chapter thirty-eight

I might've thrown up. It was like everything got knocked out of me at once. That was all I could remember and all I could think about. The feeling of being so grounded and so unguarded and then feeling empty of air and of blood and of life. I hung like a doll, limbs flapping behind me like paper in the wind.

I didn't know how long it lasted. It could've been five minutes, or it could've been an hour and it would've felt the same. But one second I was flying, petrified and nothing, and the next my back was slammed against something hard. Eyesight blacked out and head dizzy, I groaned. I couldn't see. I titled my head to the side when I vomited, a pathetic attempt to keep it from landing on me but the bottom of my thighs squished something warm and chunky just a second later. I couldn't open my eyes and I didn't think I wanted to. I just held my forehead in my hands and hoped I would open my eyes to find myself in Bobby's yard.

"You alright?"

And then I started crying. Tears pooled up in the palm of my hands and I was shaking with sobs, jerky and violence and my stomach churning, sinking, ready to spit bile out again. I couldn't open my eyes and now I couldn't breathe. Every attempt at an exhale was thick with shaking wails. I was nothing but a pile of snot and vomit and tears.

He threw a water bottle at me. It hit the tops of my shins and it did nothing but make me sob harder. And I just sat there, curled up and pathetic, only able to conjure up the thought that I had never cried like this and that made me slam my feet into the ground. I felt plastic crunch under my heel and kicked the bottle away.

"Remy, look at me."

I shook my head.

"C'mon, Remy. Why are you acting like this? Just look at me."

I shook my head.

"Holy shit, Remy. Don't act like a child. Alright? You're fine. Just look at me."

I didn't want to. I didn't want to look at him and I didn't want to be there and the only thing I could think of was how cold it was. The temperature had dropped and my legs were trembling and I was sitting there, underdressed with no shoes against hard concrete, hair soaked and water dripping down my back.

And then his hands were around my wrists. The feel of them, I would never forget it. Cold and hard, like metal left out on a winter day, tight and sharp against my skin, ripping my hands away from my face and I knew I was defenseless and it occurred to me that this was the first time I had ever felt this way.

All I could see of my brother were his red eyes. Everything else was too familiar. Bear didn't have the ability to hurt me. Not Bear. Not the brother who stood in front of my mother when she screamed at me, not the brother who made threats to older men whose gaze lingered on me a little bit too long, not the brother who taught me to protect myself so I wouldn't need to rely on anyone else, not the brother who died in the woods. The red eyes were blazing. They were violent and cruel and inconsistent with everything I had ever known about my brother and when I looked straight at them I was able to believe that my brother would never do this to me.

My breathing was labored and jagged but I found the strength to scream at him, "What the fuck!" my voice thousands of shards of glass.

Briah just looked at me for a moment. He took his hands away from my wrists and threw them at my side, like they burned him. He shrugged, casually, indifferently. This was nothing to him. His posture was rigid and he wasn't breathing. I kept looking at his chest and his shoulders, waiting for something but they were still and he was statuesque and I couldn't help myself from feeling disgusted at how inhuman he seemed. "You needed to be with me today."

My mind reeled. I couldn't comprehend his words. "What?" I questioned through a strained and a tightened through. I looked around, eyes stilled blurred and unfocused and took a moment to realize where exactly he brought me. I recognized the graffiti, the abandoned cars and the crumbling concrete. It was the parking garage.

"You needed to be with me today," Briah repeated, slower, with this grin on his face. I didn't like it. I hated it. Anger tightened every muscle in my body. I had to squeeze my toes and grind my teeth to keep myself still.

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?" I seethed, sharp exhales through my nose. "You-you fucking kidnapped me! I'm not even wearing fucking-fucking shoes! And you just, you fucking-why would you do this?"

But he just shrugged, unfocused red eyes flickering around and hands bunched up into fists by his side. "You just needed to come with me."

"You could've fucking asked! Look at me! I'm not wearing fucking shoes and Bobby is going think I got fucking kidnapped or murdered or something and you couldn't even let me come up with some sort of excuse?" I couldn't help the tears when they started coming again in full force because I was thinking of Bobby and the way she was probably crying at home, alone and unable to reach Leah and unable to reach me.

Briah sighed. He was standing about ten feet away from me, looking down at me like I was some inconvenience, like I was a problem that needed solving and suddenly the red eyes were too much for me too. "It's not even gonna be a problem, anymore. So just, stop freaking out, alright? It'll all be over soon."

But his words didn't help. His words ignited something in me and my heart beat so hard in my chest I thought it might work its way up my throat and out of my mouth. His words has implications I wasn't ready to start deconstructing and suddenly, for the first time I looked at my brother and I saw him for what he really was. I saw his red eyes and his curled fists and my blood felt hot, pumping up to my cheeks and he stepped further away from me. "What are you gonna do, Bear?" I whispered, looking down at my toes.

He didn't say anything. My breathing leveled out and he looked down at the ground with a locked jaw and then he stood. I watched the way he moved, so robotic and unnatural, as he reached for the discarded water bottle and then my arm, yanking me up to my feet. I was unstable, wobbly, but his grip on me was like iron. With one hand, he unscrewed the top of the water bottle and dumped it over my legs. "Nothing bad. Don't puke again."

"Don't kidnap me again," I retorted, wanting to sound venomous but the words barely got through my chapped lips.

Briah retreated as soon as the vomit was clear off my leg, tossing the rest of the water back at me. I caught it this time, shoving it in the pocket of my gym shorts, next to my box of matches and loose cigarettes.

I decided to smoke one. I figured it would piss him off.

He didn't talk much after that. Briah paced around, running fingers through his hair and kicking old car parts. He was anxious, unsettled and eager. I could see it in the way he snarled at nothing. And though I had managed to stop the sobs and the vomiting, my fingers still shook as I lit the cigarette. I felt like I had just fallen a great distance and my back slammed flat against the concrete, over and over.

I kept telling myself that he meant it when he said he wasn't going to do anything bad. That he meant it when he said he loved me and wanted to protect me. But there was something in my gut. And I trusted my gut. I trusted it more than anything and I eyed him with skepticism. He was misguided. I knew that much.

Smoking calmed me, just incrementally. I leaned against the edge of the parking garage, looking out onto the grassy grounds below. I thought that maybe if I jumped off, I'd be hurt enough for Briah to abandon whatever fucked up plan he concocted and take me to fucking hospital. But I might bleed. Bleeding wasn't an option.

I wondered when I'd stop trembling and I wondered when Embry would realize I was missing. It wouldn't take long, it couldn't. Bobby would call him. Bobby would realize that I left my phone and shoes and money and license at her place and she would know something was wrong because Bobby isn't stupid and she would call Embry and Embry would know where to look. But Embry was preoccupied. Embry was at war.

Briah had disappeared from my line of sight. I didn't notice when he did and I didn't like the idea that he could pop out of nowhere. I exhaled, and through the smoke I yelled, "You at least wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Just be patient, Remy, shit," the disembodied voice of my brother echoed off the walls and it was harder to pretend that it wasn't my brother when all I could hear was his voice.

"Aren't you supposed to be with the Cullens?" I questioned, voice shaking in its echoes.

A scoff came from Briah. "Can't stand those fucking freaks."

The sobs had subsided, but tears fell freely, rolling down my cheek and onto the fingers that held the cigarette between my lips. I could breathe, but I couldn't manage any thoughts other than enraged and betrayed strings of expletives. I felt sick. I kept thinking that I was going to throw up but every time I did I just let the smoke fill up my lungs and flow back out again. I didn't want to be sick. I tried to focus all of my mental energy on not doing it again. I thought of Bobby, chastising me and scolding me for throwing away all of the work I did in gaining that weight back.

I wanted to be warm. I had never felt a cold like this, one so invasive and so persistent, one that I was so helpless against. I thought of Embry, bright like the sun, lying by my side with a smile that warmed me, predicting this moment. He told me, voice drenched in adoration, that I would beg for his warmth and beg for him to be by my side. And I thought, with my toes freezing and my finger stiff, that he was right. My mouth was dry and all of the sudden I hated myself for not loving him enough. I would tell him that, when he came. He always came.

Briah wandered into my view again, kicking his long legs forward and swinging them back, hands shoved deep in his pockets. I wanted to know what he was waiting for, but I knew him and I knew there was no point in asking. Bear didn't say anything he didn't want to say. I thought of him, hunched over his gym bag of small little baggies, hissing and fighting and denying. That was what he did. That was what he always did.

He noticed me staring and he froze, letting his leg halt in the air before he swung it around and turned to face me. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you remember when we were kids, like really little kids, and mom and dad would leave, and I'd have to look after you?"

"No," I spat back at him.

But there was something new in his red eyes. "Well, I did," he insisted, looking down at tips of his shoes. "You didn't talk very well and I had just started school. I used to sit you down and read you books after dinner. And you always fell asleep on top of me. So I'd end up sitting on the couch for hours with you on my lap until mom and dad got home because I didn't want you to wake up."

I took the cigarette out of my mouth and put it out against the wall behind me. "No, I don't remember that."

"Didn't think you would," he confessed. Briah looked past me, towards the rising sun behind me, and sighed. "I woke up here, after I got bit. And it was the first thing I remembered." His voice sounded wistful and I was too caught up in trying to remember that I didn't immediately realize he had just gone back on a lie. "Rem, I gotta go," he continued, tone shifting. "But I'll be back, alright? Don't go anywhere."

Panic struck up in my throat again, tight and constricting. "Wait, you can't just leave me out here alone!" I protested, looking at him with wild eyes.

But Briah just shook his head and said, "Just trust me, kid," and like that, he was gone.

After he left, I was burdened with the knowledge that it was just as quiet and still and uncomfortable as it was while he was around. And even worse, I didn't even feel less safe. Briah wasn't like that alive. You heard him rooms away, bustling and complaining, knocking shit over and laughing so loud it made you flinch. You could always hear Bear, hear his stomping and his fighting and his breathing and his snoring. But now that everything about him was unfamiliar and twisted, he was silent.

I looked out at the sky behind me. The sun was higher in the sky and it left me wondering how long I'd been gone and what Bobby was doing. The thought wouldn't leave my head and it made me sink. I wanted to talk to her and tell her I'd be okay but I didn't even know if that was true or not and I could see her, crying and yelling and freaking out that no one was answering her calls and I wondered if she blamed Embry too.

The sun provided me little warmth as my mind wandered back to Embry, like it always did. And I kept thinking that there was no way Embry would let me anywhere near Briah after this incident and I tried to think of arguments in my head. It was getting harder and harder to defend Briah and for the first time I started to question of why I still did it. I wiggled my toes.

In the time Briah was gone, I just kept trying to rationalize. But every explanation was followed by a hypothetical that seemed more realistic than I wanted to admit. Every memory of Bear as the dotting and protective brother was overshadowed by his history. I saw him walking me to school and packing my lunches with a joint between his bloodied knuckles. I saw him laughing with me in our backyard while a limp body lay at his feet. I heard him vow that he would always be my older brother while he smashed a glass bottle against the counter.

And it felt like the entire time he had been gone, the entire time I thought he was died, I was trying to prove to myself that Briah wasn't what everyone said he was. That he was who he was when he was with me. But now that he was back, new and shiny, I kept repeating to myself that this really wasn't him either and that Bear was somewhere lost inside this newer self. But the truth was bitter on my tongue. It was a fat pill with no water. It made me cough and choke and still I couldn't spit it out. The truth was that the Bear that loved me might really just be dead, and I ended up stuck with all the parts that hurt.

I heard him before I saw him, this time. I didn't know how long he was gone; it couldn't have been long. But there was boom that echoed through the empty garage, followed by something anguished, a scream that made me go still, mouth agape in horror at the sound of it. It was enraged and it was brutal and before I had time to process it my brother was standing in front of me again, eyes bright red and flaming, shoulders hunched and looking at me in a way that made me cower. "Let's go," he demanded, low and sharp.

"Not again," I protested, but it was meek. It was in vain. Briah was in front of me before I could blink, reached for my waist and throwing me over his shoulder like it was nothing.

It was better this time, now that I expected it. I knew that Briah was running, but it didn't feel like that. It felt like I was stuck in a vacuum. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, only letting air out when I felt like my lungs were about to burst. I tried to stay as still as possible, muscles clenched and curled into my brother's shoulder. And I tried not to focus on him. I tried not to focus on the harshness of his skin and how when I closed my eyes he felt like steel. I tried to force out thoughts that this was the same person who read me stories at night when our parents just left us.

He stopped again, suddenly, and the blood rushed around my head. When he dropped me this time, it was no gentler, but I was surprised to feel the softness of grass under me instead of the harshness of concrete. I exhaled, inhaled, and exhaled, slow and meticulous, trying to gain some sort of control while Briah raged around me. We were in a clearing, surrounded by a circle of trees and piles of rocks.

Violent cracking, like lightening, echoed around in my ears when Briah slammed his fist into a tree, nearly chopping it down. "It was supposed to be her!" he bellowed, and I shrunk down further and had to admit to myself that I was fucking terrified.

He was seething visibly, straining and breathing deeply. Briah didn't look at me for a while. He just kicked and punched and screamed, indecipherable madness and curses and all of the sudden I couldn't stop my shaking again and I became acutely aware of the fact that he could kill me and no one was around.

When he forced his foot through a tree and it fell to the ground, bark crunching, I couldn't help the whimper that escaped me. The fear had fell through without me realizing and it caused my brother to snap his head in my direction, fury not lessening. "Get up," he commanded, and I thought that I couldn't but I tried anyways. My legs were shaking under my weight and I had never felt so pathetic in my entire life. Bare feet, tangled damp hair and cowering in fear. Briah stared me down like he was looking through me. "Guess I have to fucking do it, then."

"Do what?" I asked, squeaky and unsure and weak.

He didn't say anything for a minute. He kicked at the ground and I licked my dried out lips. Briah sighed. He stepped towards me, reaching his hand out before he dropped it and retreated once more. "Remy," he started, "I'm gonna change you," he stated, so simply.

I'm gonna change you. It bounced around in my head and I kept trying to find a meaning but I couldn't. It didn't make any sense. I shook my head. "What'd you, what are, what'd you, what'd you mean?"

Briah kept unclenching and unclenching his fists. Biting down and releasing. "That stupid fucking redhead was supposed to do it. She said she would fucking do it for me if I spied on your little stupid fucking wolf boys for her and I did so now she was supposed to change you but she got herself fucking killed. So now I have to do it."

But I was slow on the uptake. I was still shaking my head and trying to breath in a way that would stop me from collapsing. "Change me? I don't- I don't-"

"God, Remy, don't be fucking stupid," he spat. "This?" he said gesturing towards himself, "This was the best thing that ever happened to me. Alright? If Vic didn't bite me, I would've died as nothing. I would've been nothing but another poor fucking kid who got beat down by a world that doesn't fucking care about him. But now? Remy, I'm basically a fucking god. I don't need to be taken care of. I don't need anyone."

"I don't get it."

His groan was like a yell now, guttural and annoyed. "Remy, listen! I'm your brother. It's my job to protect you. But if I do this for you, if you become like me, then I won't need to protect you. You and me, we could live forever!" he pitched, waving his hands around and looking at me with eager eyes. "Think about it! No one could hurt us, not ever again. Think about everything's Mom's ever said to you. Think about all the times Dad just stood by and watched. No one would ever have that power over us, over you again."

And I did think about it. I couldn't not. There was something about his words and the way he spoke them that made me feel all mixed up, melted and disoriented. I thought about a world where no one could touch me. I thought about a world where me and my brother were safe and unbothered, something I never had and something I always wanted. I thought about never having to worry about where I would live or being abandoned or who would take care of me. I wouldn't have to go to that stupid fucking bakery ever again and I wouldn't have to be belittled or talked down to.

But that was a world without Bobby. A world without Quil. A world without Kim. A world without Embry. And I thought about all the pain and worry and how little it felt compared to the way I felt waking up next to Embry in the morning. How it felt when Bobby let me stay with her, no questions asked, and hugged me every time my life collapsed without ever being annoyed. How it felt when Quil put himself in my life so I wouldn't be alone anymore. How it felt when Kim cried over Jared in my arms and told me I was her best friend. And it didn't seem worth it.

I shook my head. "I don't wanna be like you," I whispered to my brother, so quiet I could barely hear it.

But he could. He heard it loud and clear and he flinched. "Rem."

But I just shook my head. "Take me home, Bear."

"Remy-"

"No!" I yelled, finding my voice. "I don't want to change and I don't want to be like you! I wanna go back to Bobby's forget this ever happened."

But Briah shook his head. "I'm not taking you back."

I locked my jaw in defiance. "Then I'm leaving," I stated, and then turned.

It was futile. I knew it was. I knew it was stupid and pointless but I tried it anyways and Bear's hand was around my bicep and he was flinging me against the ground and I heard something snap and felt a pain shoot through my ankle. I gasped. "Stop being fucking stupid, Remy! This is all about that fucking Call kid. Since when are you the type of girl to turn her back on her family for her fucking boyfriend. Huh? I'm your fucking brother, Rem! Fuck!"

My ankle was stinging and snapped and I couldn't move. I stared up at him and tried not to cry. "You broke my fucking ankle," I told him through a thick voice.

But he didn't seem to care. This didn't seem to bother him and I knew that he was not my brother. "Because you're so fucking fragile, Rem! Just let me fix you! You can't just leave me! You can't just make me live like this alone because I can't fucking take it anymore!"

He took a step towards me and I shuffled back, frantically trying to get away from him however I could. And then he looked at me, eyes wide, like he finally saw the fear in me and was offended by it. "Remy," he whispered.

"Fuck off," I spat at him, heart hammering in my chest.

Something set off in him. Or, something else set off in him. His nostrils flared and he reached down for me once more, grabbing me by the wrist and lifting me up in the air. And there I was, hanging by my hand like the carcass of a cow, unable to move and unable to defend myself. "You're gonna thank me," Briah insisted, his red eyes harsh on mine.

He leaned forward. I closed my eyes, tears falling and bracing for whatever was to come. And I said a silent goodbye to Bobby and to Quil and to Kim and to Embry. And my last thought was that I loved them all more than I ever thought I was capable of.

But whatever was coming never came. I heard snapping then snarling and then I was on my ass again. I fell flat on my back, the back on my head slamming against a pile of rocks. A groan of pain escaped me, and blackness flooded into the corner of my eyes and I forced myself to sit up and see what the fuck was happening.

I recognized him immediately, in his second form. Grey and huge and formidable. Embry was snarling at my brother, ears back against his head. I gasped at the sight of him, and his head snapped in my direction. But in that second Briah had risen and took his foot and slammed it against the top of Embry's head. He crumbled.

When Briah looked at me again, it was in a new light. I could feel it. It set my nerves on fire. The back of my head was hot, wet and sticky, and Briah looked at me like that was all I was to him. A sack of blood to suck down.

He would've killed me. But Embry wouldn't let that happen. Of course he wouldn't. Of fucking course he wouldn't. And when Bear tried to rush towards me, Embry leapt up from behind, tackled him to the ground, and ripped his head clean off.

I screamed. Horrified, anguished, broken. I screamed as his head rolled off his body and just a few feet away. I couldn't see his red eyes. Just the back of his head and his messy dark hair and if I could've processed any emotion other than horror at that moment I probably would've been grateful for it. But I just screamed. I couldn't stop. I just stared at my brother's head and screamed.

"Hey, hey, hey, Remy. C'mon," a familiar voice tried to penetrate the sound of screams but I didn't stop. Hot hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground and I was being cradled against someone's chest, screaming or sobbing or some horrid combination of the two. I didn't know who it was but they were warm and kept whispering, "I know, Remy. I know. I'm sorry. I know, I know, I know," as they carried me away.

The last thing I could remember was the smell of smoke before blackness overtook my vision.

I woke up to a soreness in my throat and a ringing in my ears. The sky was black. That was all I could see at first, the tips of trees penetrating the inky black sky. There weren't as many stars as there usually was. That was my first thought.

My second was off the pain. My head throbbed. My ankle throbbed. My whole body felt sore, bruised and damaged I groaned, unable to find much strength in me. But still, I pushed my weight up on my hands to see I was lying down on someone's porch, under a thick blanket and on top of a pillow.

"Hey, hey, you need to lie down, Remy. Please."

Jared's voice was easier to recognize now. And I didn't know why he was here but I didn't have the energy to think about it. I lied back down, rolling my head over to look at him. There was something grave in his expression and I couldn't think of what had put it there. "What's going on?" I questioned, voice strained.

"You're at Jake's house," he said carefully. He was sitting down in a little white lawn chair that he looked down big for, fiddling his fingers and watching me with trepidation. "Dr. Cullen was here, fixing up Jake, so I brought you here, cause your head needed stitches." And his words I brought my fingers to feel the back of my head, were I could now feel the bumps and wires. "He put a cast on your ankle too. Said you'll need crutches for a while."

Nothing was making any sense to me. "What happened? Why did I need stitches? Is Jake okay?"

Jared had wide eyes and an agape mouth and it became clear to me that he did not want to tell me what happened. "Jake's okay. Don't worry about that, Remy. Alright?"

I nodded. It was good enough for me. "Um," I started, and the shifted, wiggling around so I could sit up and lean my back against the little red house. "Could you get me some water please?"

Without a word, Jared nodded and stood, disappearing into the house and leaving me to wonder what the fuck had happened.

It didn't take me long to figure it out. I had already started picking out little pieces and details of the day, the garage, the bare feet, when the low rumbling of Quil's truck interrupted my thoughts.

I watched as he parked the car, open the door and slam it up, and run towards me. Before I could say anything, Quil had flung his arms around my shoulders and let sobs sink into my shoulder. I felt numb, unable to move as Quil shook against me. "He's dead," Quil wailed into my shoulder.

And then I saw him. Standing there in front of Quil's truck with his hands in his pockets and his eyes hard on me. His mouth was twisted up into a grimace and his eyes contained something I knew all to well to be shame. And I knew before I remembered. I knew what he did before I remembered what I saw.

I couldn't think of Quil, in that moment. I pushed him off of me, and stood, wobbly, and limped over towards Embry, dragging my stupid fucking new cast over the porch steps and ignoring the banging in my head. I wobbled and limped all the way to Embry. I stood in front of him, unable to cry and unable to breathe. "You did it."

It wasn't a question, but tears welled up in Embry's eyes and Quil's sobs rang in my ears and Embry, the sun of my life and the only person I could ever love, nodded. "Yeah," he confirmed through a cracking voice. "Yeah, I did it."

haha. we're finally here! the idea that started this story. the plot point that inspired me to write cryptid. here we are ! what r u thinking how are you feeling? ? i really debated having embry be the one to kill briah or not, but i decided if i made anyone else do it, it would be a cowards way out. also, briah's character is a metaphor, and his vampirism is another, separate metaphor. im interested to hear what you think his character might be representing or what it represented to you.

also, did you guys know that when you say you relate to remy i worry about you. like people sometimes go a little too hard in hating kim/jared, or just relate to remy just a little too much and i want you to know that makes me concerned. like im joking, but also im not.

anways, here are a BUNCH of incorrect quotes to help u thru this chapter.

incorrect quotes

embry: i have a notebook and no idea what to put in it. any suggestions?
jared: put spaghetti in it
embry: i am currently taking suggestions from everyone except you
paul: put spaghetti in it
embry: i am currently taking suggestions from every-
quil: put spaghetti in it
embry; i am curr-
remy: put spaghetti in it
embry: i am no longer taking suggestions

remy: i swing both ways
remy: violently, with a stick

embry: he died of natural causes
quil: you set briah on fire?
embry: fire is natural

briah: fire is my only weakness
embry: yeah it's everyone's weakness
embry: it's fucking fire

jared: were you dropped on your head as a child?
briah: bold of you to assume i was held

quil: adding 'lmao' does not hide your pain
embry: yeah it does lmao

remy: *gets a paper cut*
embry, clenching his fists: hasn't she fucking been through enough?

briah: well, if it isn't jared cameron
jared: but it is me
briah: no, its an expression
jared: your villian tricks won't work on me

seth: remy look! i made you a gift. its us as marshmallow people. look that's me, thats embry, thats paul! and look, that's you! you're crossing your arms because you're annoyed at all the other marshmallow people. do you like it?
remy, choking up: i-it's fine

embry: there's only one thing worse than dying
embry: *rips away paper to reveal 'remy' above 'dying'*
remy: me
embry: NO

paul: vampires really hate us
quil: yeah, maybe they're homophobic
paul: we're not gay?
quil: ...we're not?

remy: i have a plan
quil: i'll call an ambulance

embry: remy can take care of herself
remy: *sneezes from across the state*
embry: oh my god are you okay? i'll be there in an hour
jared: i think im dying inside
embry: suffer in silence, then

embry: sam i think you should play the role of my father
sam: i don't wanna be your father
embry: that's perfect you already know your lines