Instant Message
By Keelah
His lips were turned, ever so subtly, into a smirk.
As though he'd been expecting me.
Chapter FORTY-SEVEN
Wintry
He ambled across the partly isolated lane, with only the glimmer of sputtering streetlamps and diffused moonlight to illuminate his path. He stepped onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road and consequently began to head en route for one of the mediocre, two-story houses that inhabited the entire east suburban subdivision of lower Konoha.
He stepped onto a granite driveway, nonchalantly sauntering through the small front yard until he reached the porch. His feet carried him step by step, up the plain, unfurnished porch, as motion-sensitive lights flickered on concurrently, flooding the low veranda and part of the lawn with a bright yellow glow. Up until that moment I had never seen the man in anything brighter than lunar, silvery-blue radiance, and to my eyes he had been nothing more than a haze shaped ambiguously like a man. For the first time, I was able to see him clearly, though still from a considerable distance.
His pastel mop of hair shone brightly, though whether it was white, blonde or even black under the meagre illusion of light, I could not tell. A white band of cloth wrapped around his waist like a belt, and draped over one arm, a coat of the same pure colour. A lab gown, it seemed, like ones worn by doctors. A crimson insignia was adorned on the left breast of the uniform, though from where I hid the icon was nothing more than incoherent lines enclosed by an exterior circle.
In the shadows of dense shrubberies, I stuck a hand inside my purse and felt for a small, rectangular device, seizing the mobile phone once its smooth surface grazed my fingers. With a subtle slide of the screen, the inanimate display came to life and, with a mere click of a shortcut-button at its side, I was immediately directed to my chosen application. Through the lens I saw the same picture of the man, though unlike the human eyes this camera had the ability to magnify. I captured the image of the man's coat only an instant before he turned away.
A tail of his tresses followed suit in the back of his head as he circled around the screen door, then the front door, before ultimately disappearing into the darkness of his abode. A few seconds later, every window on the ground level burst with light, its rays reduced to a degree because of the curtains that swathed every glass casement. I could see his silhouette, though just barely, making its way about the house, a fleeting shadow moving from one windowpane to the next.
On the other side of the road, amongst the bushy foliage directly opposite of the house, I sat in stillness and silence, waiting for him to pull another strange move. But ever since the sneer that he had sent my way, the man had carried about with his business as any other being. He had spun around and resumed his walk as though nothing had happened and, to be honest, I was beginning to think nothing did, that perhaps I'd imagined the entire thing. There was nothing suspicious in the way he walked, the manner in which he moved, the house he lived in or the clothes he wore; all of these failed to trigger silent alarms of abnormality in my brain. By the time I was crouched among dirt and mud, innumerable crawling insects and unidentified plant life, I was fed up with the fruitlessness of my pursuit.
Scrolling through my Photo Gallery, I selected the latest image taken and enlarged the frame, zooming in to one pictogram in particular. Though rather unclear, the circular emblem was discernible enough. It read: KGH
I knew what it stood for; I was familiar with the acronym, as I'd once inquired about the very infirmary. Konoha General Hospital Before the newer, more advanced Medical Centre stood erect on the opposite side of town, I used to dream of becoming an intern in the old Hospital. I'd done my research thoroughly, and drawing from my knowledge, I was aware that the crest's shape and colour signified an employee's position. I knew what his crest meant.
Clicking back to idle screen, I pressed my thumb on 1, remembering quite clearly that Sasuke had been the one to store his own name and number into the primary throne of my speed-dials. I rolled my eyes at the reminder of his immodesty as I listened to the soft chimes, waiting for the call to come through.
Sasuke answered on the fourth ring. "Sakura?"
"Dead end," I stated, plunging right to the point. "He works at the hospital. The dude's a nurse; I've never seen a man-nurse before." He's simply a strange, middle-aged man who lives alone, I thought of adding. "This is not our guy."
"Well, neither is a man with a wife and four kids," Sasuke replied, noticeably as defeated as I was about our outcomes, "...and a freaking Chihuahua."
I stifled a laugh, amused by his evident irritation. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. I went in, pretended as a survey kid, and asked where he just came from. He mentioned the alley, said it was a shortcut from the supermarket; it was his first time taking that route." No wonder he looked so afraid, I thought. The place was quite daunting. "The man bought diapers. Huggies, Sakura, he even showed me. He sure as hell isn't who we're looking for."
I sighed, guiding my eyes back upon the utterly shock-still residence. The lack of anything worthy to report reminded me of the night's fruitless exploits. "So where does that leave us?"
"Absolutely nowhere."
Movement. A passing blur in the corner of my vision.
My head shot up reflexively, viridian orbs automatically searching the source of the sudden flash of motion. As soon as I laid eyes on the white-washed structure, I spotted it. Off the side of the building was a lone windowpane, plainly garnished by a pale cloth like the rest of the windows. So threadlike it was nearly see-through, the curtain gleamed as lights from within the house shone through, forming shadows of what I can only imagine were furniture of the interior. Narrow posts resembled the shape of lamps, or coat hangers; a large quadrangle appeared to be the refrigerator, while a melange of multiple specks held by one large branch seemed to be a plant. In spite of these definite shapes, it was the organic, woolly contour on the partially concealed side of the building that drew my attention.
"Sakura?"
Against the lone casement, made visible by the radiance on the other side, the outline of a man formed upon the sallow drapery. With squared shoulders and a rigid posture, he stood facing directly out the window, as though he could somehow see through the impeding textile.
My eyebrows knitted in curiosity, interest suddenly sparked.
"H-he—" I cleared my throat, forcing voice to coherently form the words in my mouth. "He's... just standing there."
"Who? The hospital guy?"
Just as the word "Yes" was making its way from my brain, through my throat and out my lips, the man's silhouette against the curtain moved to the left and vanished. I blinked. "He's... gone."
From the other line, I heard the Uchiha noisily exhale. "Whatever," he exhaled. "Clearly, this night's a waste. Let's just go home."
"You go," I told him, shuffling through untamed hedge plants and stray branches to get to my feet. "I think I'll look around for a bit."
"What do you mean, look around?"
"I mean, the lights are all on inside the house."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"I can just sneak a peek into a window and—"
"What?" Sasuke scowled sceptically. "Look, just... where are you?" I told him the address. "That's not far from here. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Why? I'm just going to look."
"Stay where you are—"
"I'm gonna go, okay? I'm hanging up."
"At least wait for me—"
"Thanks for coming with me. Go home, Sasuke."
"You idiot—" I flipped the phone shut with a click. It would take me no more than half a minute to cross over to the house, look into the window and then leave. Sasuke's worry was unnecessary. Dusting off my jeans, I shoved the clamshell into my purse and, without bothering to zip the bag close, broke out of my hiding place and dashed athwart the street. Within a matter of moments I had my back against the side of the garage, creeping around the back en route for the window in which I'd last seen the man—or his shadow, rather. I stole beneath the jutting panes of each window and, upon reaching my destination, I crouched under the specific casement, careful to hide under its shade and avoid the beams that slipped from between the curtains.
The rambling words of the local news mixed with a chaotic arrangement of commercials seeped through the sill and reached my ears. Cautiously, I edged closer, and with a deep breath strained my neck to peer through the glass. I had no idea why my pulse was beating like drums in a rock concert, or why my heart palpitated like it possessed an assemblage of galloping horses. When I looked through the crystal-like substance however, what met my eyes was nothing worth being terrified for.
Through a small gap between the curtains, I caught sight of what seemed like a regular study. Medical-related books lined the shelves that were embedded on the far wall; a cluttered desk rested beside it, with a lit-up, inactive computer screen atop the counter. I couldn't make out the files and documents encumbered over the workplace, but from what little I could see I recognized hues and shapes: they were pictures. Off the corner of the writing table, a diminutive, black mechanism sat, it's large, round lenses faced at me with sinister forthrightness...
All of a sudden, blackness materialized before my eyes. The dark material obstructed my line of sight and just about the entire span of the sheet of glass. I pulled my head back, staring at the strange barrier, slowly realizing that it was a pair of slacks, fastened in place by a band of white fabric, like a belt.
My heart stopped.
At a snail's pace, I forced my eyes to travel up the figure's body. He stood right in front of the window, looking down at me. Though most of his face was screened by the stray fringes of hair falling over his forehead and the shade created by the light directly behind him, and though his eyes were concealed by the reflection of light on the glass of his spectacles, none of these impediments hid the unmistakable curve of his mouth.
His lips were turned, ever so subtly, into a smirk. As though he'd been expecting me.
I stumbled backwards, mouth agape and ready to shriek though I hadn't the moral fibre to do it. Staggering, I stood clumsily on my feet, palms scratching the uneven granite as I pushed myself up. My brain had no control over my body; I moved with instincts, not rational thinking, and before I could think better of my hurried, careless shuffling, I swivelled, twisting my ankle. Or had I stepped on it? Put too much weight?
I didn't know, couldn't tell, for all I was aware of at that moment was the sharp pain that travelled up my left leg and seemingly through the rest of my suddenly heavy limbs. I bit my lip so as to suppress the scream that fought to erupt from my throat. Ignoring the throbbing pain, I limped across the yard and out of the man's residential lot. The echo of clattering articles reached my heightened organs of hearing, the clanking of plastic and metal and earphones hitting the solid cement, yet I dared not to go back and pick up these fallen possessions of mine. I only ran.
My bag, its closure still zipped open like an empty, bottomless gash, dangled flippantly on my shoulder, suddenly weightless.
To say that Sasuke was livid at the sight of me unpleasantly dishevelled, panting breathlessly and limping, would be an understatement. All told, he freaked.
"I told you," he roared, stone-cold pools of onyx drowning me in utter intensity and close examination, methodically inspecting ever inch of my being. "...to wait for me, didn't I? Why the hell didn't you listen? Look where it got you." With every passing second, he sounded more and more like a parent. Or an overprotective boyfriend, a voice hissed in the back of my mind.
"And I told you," I retorted with the same voice of obstinacy, "that it's nothing. I looked into the window, got busted, panicked and hurt myself. I wasn't in danger or anything."
"He didn't hurt you?"
"No," I assured him for the twentieth time. "He didn't even get out of the house."
He had my ankle in a gentle hold, stabilizing it from any more excessive movement. "So this is from your own stupidity?"
I glared at him.
Though I hadn't tottered very long before coming across Sasuke, who was already headed for my location, the time and distance throughout which I forced my foot to mobilize, dragging it for some couple of blocks, had only worsened the joint's condition. By the time Sasuke had found me, sat me down a nearby bench, slipped off my sandals and lifted my jeans, my ankle, disgustingly, was about the size of an apple and was as red as so.
"Is it broken?" I inquired as he checked the swelling. He glanced at me, and then back at my foot. Raising a hand, he let a finger hover over injured joint and, without any warning, pushed down with excruciating pressure. Cold pain burst through my ankle and clamped onto my lower calf.
I screamed, earning myself odd looks and whispered murmurs from the strangers that passed.
"I wouldn't worry," Sasuke diagnosed with an indifferent shrug. "It's just a sprain."
"What the hell!" I shot at him, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. The twinges that sorely gripped the entirety of my left limb nearly had me screeching my head off. "Why would you—"
"If it was broken," he explicated, unaffected by my animosity and wholly unconcerned by the hurt I was in; "you'd be too busy bawling your eyes out to yell at me. So no, there is no fracture."
I groaned, eyes shut tightly as I tried to shake away the lingering soreness. It only intensified. "I can't," I gasped, half sobbing, "believe you just did that. Sasuke—oh god, that hurt!"
"Maybe it'll teach you to listen to me next time," he taunted pitilessly, followed by a sigh of fatigue, exasperated compliance and then, though this I could've simply imagined, relief.
A cool finger grazed across my ankle, against the red, swollen skin and lingering there. And then, with such gentleness that contrasted his rough treatment towards me only seconds before, he lowered my leg to the ground. "Sorry," he muttered so low it was barely audible as he took my sandal and smoothly slipped it on, like Cinderella's prince himself, his touch tender, deliberately avoiding the bloated, pulsating redness.
"Get up." He stood, pulling me with him, to him. "I called you a cab."
On cue, a bright vehicle turned around the corner and was gunning to our spot, its stereotypical bright-yellow mass standing out amidst other cars; it drew to halt in the shoulder lane beside us.
"What about you?" I asked Sasuke once he had me settled into the backseat, realizing only then that he wasn't getting in.
Sasuke's head shook from left to right. "Go ahead," he told me, simultaneously handing a few bills in advance to the taxi driver. "Put some ice for your ankle. And try not to move it when you're sleeping. I want you to call me when you get home."
Tiredly, I closed my eyes and nodded, about to lean into the comfort of old leather when I felt a tender peck on my forehead, warm and protective. Before I could react, the passenger door gently slammed and the engine rumbled beneath me, driving away.
I peered through fatigued, half-open lids and watched Sasuke shrink from my vision, the image of him progressively receding in the side-view mirror of the minicab. In one overwhelming wave, the weight of my arms and legs increased; my neck hurt from merely supporting my head, and my eyelids fought to close. With the extent of the night's length finally catching up to me, I found myself fading away, engulfed by the lingering aroma of fast food and pine-scented air fresheners.
After stumbling out of the cab, limping up the veranda's steps and then again up the much larger and more challenging stairway of my house, I finally reached the sweet security of my room. I threw my bag onto the bed, stripped away my coat, jacket and sleeved top until all I was left in were a tank top and jeans. Following two tablets of painkillers, I subsequently threw myself onto the mattress. The divan bounced, swallowing me whole in a mouthful of linen, cotton and comforters.
Low-lidded and half-asleep, I remembered my promise to Sasuke once getting home safely. Groggily stretching out my arm, I reached for the golden grey handbag that lay on the bed's brink and shoved my hand inside it for the small, handy unit that was my cellular phone.
But I felt no solid mould of a handset, no familiar shape of a clamshell phone. Instead, only the soft feel of the interior's material, of fine silk and inner cotton lining, smoothly abraded the tips of my fingers.
It was gone.
I withdrew my hand, too worn out to worry, too lethargic to be upset. Casting away these worries for now, I welcomed sleep with open arms, letting my thoughts wander through fresh recollection, memory-hopping from my rendezvous with Gaara and our drive around the city, to his touch on the skin underneath the fabric of my shirt, Sasuke's displeasure, our futile findings... and then, the strange man who lived alone, who had evoked nothing in my remembrance yet, strangely, something in Sasuke's.
Unconsciousness pulled me in deeper as this brain wave ran through my faltering mind, one jumbled mesh after another. Oddly, it was not the urgent touch of Gaara's hands and lips that I felt as I balanced on the brink of sleep and wakefulness.
Rather what occupied my mind, my dreams, was that light, fleeting kiss on my forehead that I could have easily imagined, my skin tingling still where his lips had brushed as I fell asleep.
Unbeknownst to me, as I swam through the waters of peaceful and contemplative slumber, an orange-highlighted window broke through the stagnancy of my computer screen, emitting that shrill, ear-splitting cry of warning.
Screams.
Raw and gnashing.
Shrieking voices.
These... sounds, strident and ear-piercing, resonating along the bare corridors from different points of the house, played the role of a wake-up call for me the following morning. As though someone had turned the volume up too high and situated the speakers alongside my ear, the incessant screeches of help and pain quivered my bones to the core, lifting me up to consciousness' surface. The desperate, wrenching noise bubbled into chimes and tinkles, just as shrill, seeping thickly into my dreams.
Before my eyes the gruesome illusion disappeared gradually, the red sea of corpses fading into the white background, their wide, inflamed eyes the last to die away, boring through me until the very last second. This alternate dimension of my nightmares, once black and white, was now bloodstained from the massacre, from the bath of crimson fluids that flooded this parallel world. Steadily, the picture lost colour, lightening, lightening until the scarlet smears on the wall, the floor, on my clothing and the trickles from the tips of my hair, were no more.
Crawling, clawing, I broke free from clutch of restless sleep.
The ringing continued.
I blinked up at the ceiling, at the unfamiliar assembly in which the small chandelier was attached, the strange angle of the stucco surface and the puzzling displacement of my surrounds. It occurred to me after a few moments: I'd slept on the wrong side of the bed, with my feet toward the headboard, one leg dangling of the edge of the mattress and the rest of my body dangerously close to falling over.
The windowpane, which should have been on the left side but instead was now newly located to my right, framed a sunlit portrait of the front lawn and the cobblestone driveway merging into the road, of clear blue heavens and the cloudless, fogless atmosphere. A beautiful day, I thought, but knew enough not to let the depiction fool me. The air, I knew, would be bitterly cold and dense, sub-zero temperatures nipping and compressing one's chest to a point of breathlessness.
It was the first day of December.
This is the Haruno's residence. The mechanic voice of the answering machine leached into my eardrums, drawing my interest from the picturesque sheet of glass. Sorry we missed your call. Leave your name and message after the beep:
"Wake up, Sakura."
I jolted upright, gaze zeroed in on the telephone base that shimmered a red light from far side of the room.
"...You are listening, aren't you?"
It was all of a sudden chilly, as though the wintry air had managed to leak into the room and into my body, forcing out warmth in tremors, but with a glimpse at the window I saw that it remained safely sealed. I wanted to run over to where the receiver sat and smash it to silence, but my body failed to move.
"Go to the computer." The voice was superiorly abrupt, anger underlying the terseness of his knowing tone. "Let's talk about your recent behaviour, shall we?"
The voice message ended with a soft click from the loudspeaker, but nothing was ever as simple as so. His eyes, one of his numerous, plentiful pairs of eyes, were still fastened upon me, ready to pick up the phone again with a threat if I hesitated any longer. Dragging my eyes to the computer screen, I got up and forced my feet to cross the distance between the mattress and the desk, careful not to insert too much pressure on the left heel. My ankle still throbbed, but the pain was dulled by rest, more bearable now than it was a couple hours ago.
At the reminder, last night's events came spilling into my head. How much of the evening's happenings was he aware of? Did he know about my going out with Gaara? Would he hurt him? God, no, I thought, before my mind moved on to the following occurrence: Sasuke. What if the Rogue found out about our trip to the alley? He'd harmed Sasuke, once, because of me, because he hated the Uchiha for meddling into the situation. Would he do it again?
Weakened, I slumped onto the seat in front of the PC.
There was an offline message, sent last night while I was asleep. His words, laced with malice and immersed in vice, shook me to the bone.
Rogue sent Saturday, 01:17:50AM
Sleep tight, Sakura. I'll deal with you tomorrow.
That tomorrow was right now. Another window appeared.
Rogue: When you told Uchiha, broke the only rule we had about silence, I should have killed your parents right then. Maybe slit your father's throat and smashed your mom's skull. Annihilate your circle of friends.
But instead, I let you off with a warning.
Rogue: now, though, what with you running around with Sasuke, prying around like that, thinking, for even a second, that I wasn't watching... I'm pretty fucking pissed off. That's my patience's limit.
Rogue: Do you know what I'm going to do now Sakura? Do you want to know?
I didn't. But I was pretty sure the question was rhetorical. With shivers worming up and down my spine, I waited in dread.
Rogue: Actually, I don't even know myself. There are so many choices...
Rogue: I can kill a loved one of yours. Or a relative. I can kill your family, your beloved, innocent parents. Anyone close to your heart, Sakura, can die in my hands in the next few hours.
lilpinkchiq: Right.
I had no idea where I was able to get the fortitude to reply, but as I looked around and realized my being alone in the house, I felt a strange sense of comfort. As solitude and silence surrounded me, respectively overcrowding the room and buzzing in my ears deafeningly, the isolation that generally had me terrified now provided consolation.
lilpinkchiq: except my parents are out of town. And we don't live near any family or relatives.
lilpinkchiq: You can't touch any of them.
lilpinkchiq: I'm alone. There's no one here close to me you can hurt.
Suddenly, a new message box materialized above my current conversation with the Rogue.
omg-its-ino! (Mobile, SMS): OH EM GEE sak i've been calling ur cell like forever. i have BIG news
Rogue: You think that will stop me?
omg-its-ino! (Mobile, SMS): JUST GOT MY LICENCE BABE!
Rogue: You think, just because your family is safe...
omg-its-ino! (Mobile, SMS): still have to wait an hour though, cuz they have to get registrations done. So booooring.
Rogue: ...that there is no longer anyone close to you that I can hurt?
omg-its-ino! (Mobile, SMS): anyway, im finally driving dad's bmw! Let's celebrate! Brunch. Sushi!
Rogue: Tell me Sakura,
omg-its-ino! (Mobile, SMS): meet me at noonish K? imma DRIVE there. lol
Rogue: ...are you sure about that?
Unknown
The gust of wind nipped at the exposed flesh of his fingertips, infiltrating the leather of his gloves and into his cooling palm. Tresses whipped freely across his bare face, the deep colour of them contrasting the paleness of his skin, harmonizing with the dusk in his eyes.
With iciness that matched those of his orbs, harsh, wintry air whizzed in a stunning velocity, and even the plot behind the warehouse, flanked by high, concealing walls of factories, railroad tracks and other neighbouring depots, was not protected from these glacial pangs of winter's slow emergence. Yet despite the sub-zero temperature that suffocated all of Konoha, and the even lower wind chill, he sauntered unfalteringly across the area with nothing more than a pair of gloves, slacks and a shirt. He ignored the cold, enjoying its biting sensation on his body's exposed skin, indulging the control he possessed over such insignificant pain.
He felt nothing.
He made his way towards a pale-headed man, on the opposing corner of the square, with long, confident strides, fixing upon him an empty stare he'd perfected since he was a child. Halting several feet from the four-eyes, he spoke, "You disobeyed me."
The man twitched. "I don't get why you're so pissed. I scared off the girl, didn't I? That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"
"I told you," he started calmly, annoyance and impatience masterfully tucked beneath an emotionless facade. "to lose her. That's hardly comparable to leading her home and playing peek-a-boo through the window. Now," The chain looped through his finger clinked, its contents swinging. "I've a little task for you."
He, that unimportant, disgusting little creature that voluntarily licked his master's shoes, dared to answer back at him. "You know," he said, "I'm getting pretty sick of you bossing me around. Let's get one thing clear: I don't work for you."
Inch by inch, the corners of his lips coiled, taking the shape of a smile. "Let's get one thing clear," he mimicked in monotone, his tone never rising, never falling; "we both know I have a lot on you. So I suggest you don't anger me any further." That shut him up. Good. "Don't worry though," he continued, "After all this, you can return to being your master's little puppy. The snake's... chew toy."
A razor-sharp glare.
"Fuck you."
He nearly laughed at the man's immature reaction to the innuendo, his incapability to defend himself, knowing the statement was true. "I'm only going along with this 'cause it's a job. And... the chick is quite amusing."
"Of course she is." That was why he'd kept her alive for this long in the first place, because she was so enjoyable, so addicting, like his very own nicotine. Commonly, his players never last longer than a couple of weeks; any longer and he would lose interest, killing them off the moment they fail to satisfy his amusement, his needs. Sakura was a record-breaker.
With a flick of his wrist, the keychain slipped from his grasp and flew through the air in one fluid motion. The man before him caught it and stared dumbly at the small entity, as though he'd never seen a set of keys tied together in a single shackle before. "What is this?"
"Keys for the Hummer." He almost sighed at the reminder of the mighty, prevailing car, the epitome of pristine. Pity that such a beautiful manufacture was predestined to be scratched; it was even worse to think that it would have to be abandoned afterwards. What a waste. "You'll need a huge vehicle for the job," he informed.
"Which is what?"
"Between eleven forty-five and twelve PM. HLIC, building 122, Timber Hills, along the Alpine Route. Do you know the place?"
The man nodded sceptically, "Yeah. Hidden Leaf Insurance Corporation. That's a Driver Licensing Office, isn't it?"
"Yes," he replied. "There will be a girl, blonde, my age, leaving the building within this time interval. Her car will head south of the freeway, a BMW."
A pause.
"Yeah, and?"
A smile engraved itself upon his mouth, lips curling towards the sky.
"I want you to drive it off the ravine."
Note: Back from fighting through my last month –ever– of high school! I just fed our recycling bin with cue cards 12cm tall and a pile of papers I couldn't even measure cuz it was taller than my 30cm ruler. Goodbye senior year stress, hello lazy summer days, caramel Starbucks frapps and quick updates! =)
Read, Review and Thank You. =) You guys are so amazing and supportive, and every review makes me want to keep writing. I'd appreciate the feedbacks and comments.
OH, and... btw, as for who the Rogue was talking about in that last chap, while all of you guessed Temari and Kankuro and Gaara's parents...
SomethingLikeFate goes: What did you mean by "his own blood"? I'm hoping Temari... because if him and Sakura are related... that's awkward.
LOL Ahahahha that made my day. You guys are hilarious.
No more a high school kid and now a university undergrad,
Keelah =)
Last.15. Chapters.
This is the 15th to the last.
So, really, 14 more to go.
15 just sounded cooler. x)
