Warning: the first chapter of this story is the reason for a trigger warning. I promise you, after the first chapter, the story will improve in atmosphere. If the following scenes affect you in any way, please skip ahead to Time to Shine! or stop reading. Please remember this is a work of fiction. Any and all characters hurt in this story is only for dramatic or comedic effect.
Reversal of Fortune
Thank you and enjoy the show.
*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP*
You slap at your phone alarm, knocking it to the floor. Judging by the cracking sound, you cracked your screen. Again. You reach down to grab your phone…and fall out of your bed. Again. This is the wake-up routine of New York's unluckiest person.
Rubbing your throbbing head, you look at the clock – and spring to life at the time! Crap, you're late! You rush to the bathroom to get ready, pausing only slightly to look at the mirror…
Your green eyes check for any stubble as try to fix your stringy blonde hair. You recall from high school people called you 'the ugliest Hemsworth.' You wish you could disagree with them…
Grabbing your scrubs and stuffing them into your bag, you charge for the door, tripping on your messily tied shoes. Again.
Once you make it out of the door, you run for the stairs…only for a cute redhead to step out of the adjacent apartment…
Is she new? Is she single? Why did you forget to brush your teeth!?
You open your mouth to say hi, and the floor rises to meet you…and makes you bite your tongue!
"Oh my gosh!" the redhead runs over to check on you. "Are you alright?"
You try to say "Happens all the time" but you bit your tongue, so it comes out a little garbled. She helps you up anyway.
"I'm no expert, but you might want some ice on that," she comments.
"Nuf, Nuf," you say as you walk backward toward the stairs. Pretty sure you're five steps away… "Realfth! Impfth…"
Whatever you were about to say flies from your head, as you step into thin air! Off by just a few steps…again. As you tumble down the stairs, you bemusedly think 'Well…I won't be late. Doris is an excellent driver-'
CLONK!
…
"…an you…r m…?" a distant voice calls to you. "I sa…can you hear me?" You blink awake, as a light shines in your eyes. "Pupils dilating…good sign."
You sigh, adjusting your new sling. "Hi, Elliot."
Elliot shakes her head in disbelief. "Third time this week you were brought into work on a stretcher. What was last time again? The fork or the spoon?"
You shiver at the memory. "Both. It was both."
She chuckles at that like your pain is funny. Well, when you don't suffer it day in and day out, it probably looks very comically. "Well, you seem to be okay, relatively speaking, so you can sign off on your chart."
You blink at her with your one good eye. "You know my name."
Elliot just laughs the melodious laugh again. "Protocol. Also, Kelso's on the warpath. Heard you were in…"
"Wonderful," You groan. Elliot hands you the clipboard to check the spelling of your name: James Johnson.
You barely finish confirming it, before Bob Kelso, your superior tears into the room! "What is the meaning of this! Late, no call ahead, and now laying down on the job!? What excuse do you have, and it better be good, Mr. Johnson!"
"Well, I did fall down some stairs-" you begin, but get cut off.
"Is that all! When I fell off something and called in sick, it was a cliff, and it was last year! I want you in uniform, on your feet, in the next minute!"
Elliot chimed in. "Sir, he might have a concussion. I really think-"
Kelso quickly reared on her. "You think!? This ain't no democracy! I am a king, and Sacred Heart is my kingdom! You are a knight…" and then he looks at you, his ever-present scowl twitching into a sarcastic smirk. "…and he's our court jester!"
"Somebody shoot me…" you groan mostly to yourself.
"No such luck, son! Even a jackass must run until it can't! You still have three working hooves, so I expect to hear your braying very soon!" And with that, the man storms out, nostrils flaring to find some new victim to bring misery.
Elliot gives you a sympathetic look. "Sorry, James. I did try."
"You did, and I'm grateful." You climb out of bed to grab your bag. "But between Kelso and student debt, there ain't no rest for the wicked."
With that, you stumble off to the locker rooms to change; tricky with one arm in a sling, but you have had practice. In no time, you ready for work, your black eye twitching. "Hey, Laverne," You address your supervisor. "James Johnson, reporting for duty."
"Uh-huh," she flatly hums, not even looking up from the clipboard.
"So…uh, who's on shift with me today-" Your answer is a loud 'SQUEEEEE!' Spoilers, that was not Laverne. Hesitantly, you turn to find the Clones – Sacred Heart's most annoying nurses, aka Chrissy, Kristen, and Kirsten.
Despite not being related, their identities and personalities were so similar, they could swap places and no one would bat an eye. They were so alike, the only way to tell them apart was by their eye color; Chrissy's were blue, Kristen's green, and Kirsten's brown.
They also had to always argue about who took what job every shift. If you didn't pick something quick, you would be in the middle of a Clone War, and get stuck with the worst duty…and you did mean 'doody,' if you get the meaning…
You reach for the clipboard…and slip backward…That janitor always did wax the floor too much-
CRASH!
You wake up in a very familiar hospital bed, with a very familiar doctor there to greet you. "Hey…you, uh, okay? That was a pretty nasty spill you took…"
You chuckle with all the self-deprecation in your being. "Wow. Forget unlucky. God's cursed me. What's the damage?"
Elliot looked even more sympathetic. "Well, I'm certain you have a concussion this time, so no work…and you're staying overnight."
"Hooray." You mumble as the room grows fuzzy.
"Als…ve a ro…ate for the night," Elliot comes back into focus while she continues to speak.
"A what?" You ask, confused at the gap in the conversation.
"You got a roomie for the night, James. So, at least you won't be lonely," she still had that face on…that's the face four-year-olds in the free clinic downstairs make when they don't want you to rip off the Band-Aid.
"Just say it, Elliot. I'mma be okkie~ I'mma big boy." Heh, you were speaking funny. Must be a conclusion. Why didn't Ellie say something about that?
"Weell…Kelso heard about your spill…he yelled a lot…I explained you couldn't work…he explained you wouldn't be using your vacation hours…or the employee discount…ever again…" Elliot's eyes got big and watery. Or maybe that was the conflagration. Why didn't Ellie mention that? "I'm so sorry, James…"
"Hey, I gotta headachy. Ellie, you shove shaid somethin'" you reply very smartly.
Elliot just sighs. "I should have waited for you to be cognizant…Doug's on call, he'll be watching you for the night. And don't forget to eat." Whoa! There's food here! How long has this tray been here? "Get some rest, James." She pats your shoulder and leaves. Probably to save more lives, such a nice angel. Hey, do you have a combustion?
Anywho, you begin to eat; you shouldn't be eating during a combobulation, but you've had a lot. Your brain can bounce back like that-hey, where did Elliot go?
When something groans, you look over to the other side of the room; there's someone lying on the other side of the room in the other bed. Looks like the guy's been through a gang war.
Wow, and you thought your luck was bad! "Hey, are you Doug?" Silence. "You gonna be okay?" A groan. Yay, progress! "I'm pretty messed up too. I hit my head reeeeeealy hard! Then my boss-" You blink and look around…Hey, cool! Food! You hadn't eaten all- "Hurk! I don't feel too good…"
Between the force of the vomit and the smell, you pass out immediately. Probably for the best…this day was almost cataclysmically awful…
Sometime later…
You leave the hospital the next night; between your arm needing a cast and observing your troubling head bump, you stayed for 24 hours before release. Elliot said you should have been released around Noon, but Kelso was supposed to sign off on your papers…and he'd been playing golf…for the whole day…
Also, since you lost your job, no health insurance! So, that's a hefty bill to work off! Maybe some good Chinese food at Murakami's would cheer you up…except it was about to close.
You could take the usual route, just run the entire way there…or, you could take the dark spooky alley that would cut the time in half…
As you enter the dark spooky alley, you pray – God, Jesus, Buddha! – anybody to give you some kind of a break! C'mon, your luck's bad, but it can't get any worse!
"Well well well…" As three figures swiftly block all exits, you mentally kick yourself; it can always get worse!
"This is here is the Purple Dragon tollway!" the skinniest one said. "You want to pass, you got to pay!"
"Heh, yeah! Pay!" One with lip piercing giggled in the echo.
You try and seem as meek as possible, which is not very hard. "I would, guys, but I'm broke! I-I doubt I have the cash to even pay for a pack of crackers!" They just laugh at that. "I just got fired…"
"What a coiny-dink! I just lost my old hustle too! My old man just died, and I can't fleece 'im no more!" The skinny one laughed, filling the alley with his awful breath. "Not hurry up and hand over the cash!"
Shivering, you check your pockets, and only find a five-dollar bill. "Uh…g-got change?"
The skinny one, let's call him Rancid, leaned in and snatched the bill. "This is way under our usual going rate! But, we can let you off with a warning…"
"Hee hee! Warning!" The mimic, let's go with Echo for this one, laughed like a hyena as Rancid pocketed your money. You were just happy this would end well! A warning! Phew! That is a-ok!
"Chunk, give 'im the warning." You hardly process the sentence as the largest of the group turns you around and punches you in the diaphragm! Your lungs struggle to work again as you collapse against the wall. "Next time, bring 200!"
And with that, the group walks off, leaving you to limp down the road. Forget Murakami's…forget Sacred Heart…just forget this whole town…maybe some sleep will make you feel better…
…
You pause in your walk as a faint noise reaches your ears…is that…what is that?
You sigh miserably. "This is gonna go bad for me, I know it…" With that, you wander down streets you've never seen, follow almost blindly so until you stop in front of an antique store. It's old, rickety, and completely wooden. The sign above says…Shay D's Antiques…
Whatever this place was, the noise was a bit louder, so this must be the place…
You sigh. "Well, nothing better to do…" With that, you walk into the old store, the bell clinging as you entered. "Hello? Sorry for…intruding…whoa…" The minute you enter it was like stepping into another time…
Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling – the place is packed with just old…everything! Shelves full of objects you can't even describe…but what drew the most attention was that noise…
…a…a….a…a…
What the heck was that?
"H-h-h-hello? Is anyone here?" You creep through the shelves, careful to disturb nothing. The deeper you went, the louder the noise got…
…a….a…a…ha…ha…
Soon, you were hopelessly lost in the maze of a store that really should not have been that big! Statues of stone angels behind glass, pictures of men whose eyes followed you, even a scepter that seemed to glow dimly in the thin light. Yet still, that noise called to you!
…ha…ha…hahaha…
Finally, you stood in front of a shelf; the noise was its loudest here.
hahaha…hahaha…hahaha…
It was like the heartbeat of a comedian…and somewhere on that shelf, it was hiding…waiting for you…
That laughter…that constant laughter! That maddening LAUGHTER! "It's official…my life is such a slapstick comedy, even reality is laughing at me!"
Just like that, silence falls. Nothing makes a sound. It's so quiet, you think even the statues and paints are glancing around nervously. Then…
"…heh…haha…hahhahahahaha…hahahahhahahahhaha! HAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The laughter comes back! No, hang on…that's your laughter! Still laughing like a loon, you dive at the shelf, tearing it apart! The moment you do, the other laughter starts up again…almost like it's dancing with your sudden bout of insanity.
"HAHAHA!" hahaha! "HAHAHA!" hahaha!
It continues as you reach the back of the display until your hand grabs something wooden! You rip out your prize, falling back in the process! You look in front of you to see what you dropped!
…
A chest, carved from the blackest wood, unnaturally smooth from all angles…and thumping like a little black cherry oak heart.
HA-HA. HA-HA. HA-HA.
You're on your knees in a flash, ripping the chest open! "Open fucking sesame!" You look into the chest, to find, sitting at its bottom…a small wooden unassuming mask. It's so ancient, its oaken hide is slightly emerald. So plain…and yet it shines like a diamond!
"THERE YOU ARE, YOU BUNDLE OF JOY! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Is that your voice? Never sounded like that-but who cares! Just come to papa-!
SLAM!
You fall back on your butt as a black-clad boot closes the trunk. You look up at the figure as he bends down to pick up the trunk. "There you are…trying to run again, eh?" He gives the box a shake before he gives you a wide, D-shaped grin. "My deepest apologies. Where are my manners? Welcome to my humble shop."
You follow the man as he leads you to the front, the startlingly silent chest (of course it's silent! Chest don't pulse! …and masks don't laugh.) never leaving his grip. "I do apologize; I had thought I locked that door. It is after closing time after all."
As he reaches the counter, he drops the chest on the countertop and sits down behind on a stool. On the countertop sits a wooden ship he begins to tinker with. He pauses when notices you're still there. "As I said, we're closed. You can leave."
"Um…that box laughed at me!" You jab a finger at the crate, still disoriented after everything that happened.
The proprietor of the shop just snorted, focusing on his ship model. "Don't be silly. Boxes can't laugh."
KNOCK-KNOCK!
The man elbows the box, the mask rattling inside it. "Or tell knock-knock jokes."
KNOCK-KNOCK!
You pause, deciding to try something. "Who's there?"
HA-HA-!
This time the man stands up to slam his fist on the box, the wood creaking dangerously. "Do. Not. Encourage it."
You laugh in triumph. "Ah-ha! I wasn't imagining things! That mask-"
"Is none of your concern. Trust me, I've given out many gifts, but this one is a curse." The man, fully forgoing his model building, fixes you with a stare. "Go home, James Johnson. This is not a path you want a part of-"
"I'LL WORK FOR IT!" you awkwardly cut him off. You wilt under his undivided attention. "I-I'll work for years if I have to…I…I have to have that mask!"
The man fixes you with a piercing stare. You fidget in place, wondering what he'll say next…
Finally, he sits down, leans his head on his hands, and softens his gaze…but not by much. "Tell me, Mr. Johnson. How has your day been?"
"My day?" You hadn't been asked how your day had been…such a long time. Like a dam bursting open, everything – all the shit you went through just today! – bubbled to the surface! It wanted out! "My day…fucking sucked! I lost my job, I'm broke, I'm in debt, I get beat up near every day, I just got mugged 5 minutes ago! I feel like I'm this universe's Butt-Monkey!"
The shop owner just watches as you have a cathartic mental breakdown in the middle of his wares, next to some shrunken heads. "You wanna know the worst part of this shitshow I call a life!? On some days, I just hope the accidents I get in kill me, just to spare me a life of constant misery!"
You stand firm with clenched fists, breathing heavily, as tears run down your face. "I…I just want a break…a chance to tip the scales…in my direction for a change. No big dreams, no plans, I'm just…tired of-of my life's dice being loaded snake eyes!"
The man continues to watch you, his face belaying nothing; a statue of judgment upon the weary soul that had come for salvation. Finally, he sighed as he massaged his face with one hand. "…you sure know how to pick your champions…" he muttered, apparently to himself.
Finally, he walks over to the crate, opens it, and picks up the wooden relic inside…with a pair of tongs. He proceeds to pull out a hemp bag and drop the mask into it. Leaving from behind the counter, he shoves the bag into your hands. "Here. Take it."
You blink, wiping your runny nose on your sleeve. "R-really?"
The man waved his hand as if to push your doubt away. "Clearly, this finicky thing chose you. I make a habit out of not standing in destiny's way."
You tear up again, as you cry, "Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Yes, yes. Now, please! Get it out of this shop! It scares the mogwai." The man began to walk back to his chair clearly set on finishing his model. That left you to reach into the bag and pull out your prize; you pick it up gently, almost worried it would break.
Feeling it in your grip, how firm and slightly denser than you thought, you grasp it more firmly. Upon closer inspection, the mask is old, but at the same time, pristine. It practically shimmers in the light. You turn it over to look at the back-
"Ah ah ah!" The man moves with astonishing speed grabbing your wrist and squeezing, not in a way that hurts, but your hand releases the mask, dropping it in the bag. "Do not put it on in my store! Let me get a few universes over before you unleash Hell on New York."
You try to puzzle out what that sentence means, before giving up and trying a new line of thought. "Actually, on that note…are there any downsides, catches, or other 'be careful what you wish for' crap to watch out for? When life keeps kicking you..."
"Oh, you are right to worry," the man steps back and holds up three fingers. "Three things to watch out for. One – it will only work at night. Put it on in the day, it will continue to slumber, and if sunrise comes, the power will cease to work!
"Two," he continued, "others can and will try to take it off. Keep their hands away from your face at all times! Lastly, beings or relics of mystic origin will have a slight immunity to your…shenanigans, and they can hurt you! So, if the urge to pick on a god strikes you as funny, ignore it!"
You don't quite under everything he's saying, but it's bound to make sense later. You nod, "I'll keep that all in mind! I'll pay you back, I promise!"
"You want to pay me back?" He says, settling into his seat. "Then do one simple task…do one good deed."
You cock your head to the side. "One good…deed?"
He nods. "One good deed, one selfless, unrewarding act…while wearing that." His grin comes back in full force. "I look forward to what you pull off."
As you enter your apartment, you remember the storekeeper's last words on the matter of the mask: do not put it on until you're back home. The more you think about his words, the more puzzled and worried you are; what could all he said have meant? Is this mask actually something more?
Well, it can wait until you can get inside your room; if that man was telling the truth, the last thing you need to do is walk too much with a monkey's paw. As you reach your door, you see a sign on the door…a notice of eviction.
'What!? But I paid – oh! Wait, no, rent was due the same day all my shirts went pink,' you groan. 'I don't even own a red sock!'
You glance at the bag thoughtfully. "…whatever. This is home enough, now." You pull out the mask, give a good hard look, turn it around-
And a door opens behind you. "Dad! Is that – oh! It's you!" You look over to see the redhead from this morning, now dressed casually in a tight-fitting jersey shirt, and shorts that show legs for days…
"Sorry, I, uh, thought you were someone else…" she says bashfully. "So, uh how are you? Like, how's the arm?"
You quickly stuff the mask into your jacket, and turn, managing a shaky smile as you try to not look at those legs! "T-the arm's fine! My concussion made it pretty easy to forget…"
The woman gives you a pitying look, before looking at the door. "Right…when the landlord came, I said you'd be back tomorrow to pay rent…and here you are! The day after that…you have some pretty bad luck, ya know?"
"Yeah…" You chuckle wetly, glad you seem to be out of tears for the time being. "I really hadn't noticed," You add sarcastically, but not rudely. "But…it might be getting better…"
The woman crossed those legs and leaned on the doorframe, a quirk in her smile and her brow. "Is that a come-on?" While she laughs at your flustered expression, she steps forward, hand extended. "I'm April. April O'Neal."
You cough to keep your voice level. "I'm…I'm James Johnson." You shake her hand with your cast-covered arm, keeping your free hand to keep your jacket closed. As you disconnect, you ask. "So, uh, did the landlord dump everything I own, or should I just start knocking around to see who got what?"
April's smile widened. "Actually, I can answer that." She opened her doorway up a bit more to show…a couple of boxes with clothes, bric-a-brak, and other items you recognize! "Turns out, for about 30 bucks, he'll give you the whole lot! Except your TV and toaster. Those he…confiscated."
You laugh at that, a real genuine laugh no less! "Sucks for him! That TV never worked and the toaster burned everything! His place is gonna smell like burnt pop tarts!" You laugh for a while longer with April joining in for a bit. When you calm down, you ask, "Don't suppose you take IOU's? I've been fired and mugged in the last two days."
The girl's eyes widened. "Oh my god!"
You shrug. "Yeah, that's life. Seriously, what do you want me to do for helping me like this? I don't want to make assumptions, but reciprocity at the least says I owe you one. All I ask is that I get to continue to pretend I have dignity."
She pauses and taps her bicep in thought. "Payback, huh? I could use a handyman, but…" You both look at your arm. "I think I'll settle for some company for a bit." She motions for you to come in; you hesitate (this is the first time a girl ever invited to go anywhere, even if it's just because you're now homeless!), but she comes out and drags you in any way.
"Make yourself at home," she said as she went over to the kitchenette. "I still haven't gone shopping – lazy, I know – so all I have is tap water and toilet water."
You shrug even though her back's to you. "They taste roughly the same, so…" You're rewarded with a laugh! Score, second time! She comes back with a glass, which you gratefully gulp.
"Whoa. Thirsty, are we?" April asks.
"Just nice to drink water without all the black stuff in it." As she fixes you with another worried look, you decide maybe to stop the bad humor. "Thanks, really. This is...At the risk of being a downer, I needed this."
April smiles faintly at your honesty, before sipping her own glass. "Yeah, I…kinda needed company myself. I just…" She tucks a strand of loose hair into place before speaking again. "Come on, I should be more polite. Have a seat."
As you move over to her heavenly chairs (they make them this soft!?), she starts to talk again. "See, this is my first time living on my own. Furthest I've been from home…" she chuckles sadly. "I…don't really have a lot of friends here. Kinda left them back on the farm."
You chuckle at that, which causes her to give you a questioning look. "So, the Big Apple's being its usual rotten self, huh." You sip your water before speaking. "I don't have any friends either. Been here for at least a year – nada! I remember people had friends when I was younger. I remember them not wanting me around…
"Would you believe everything you've done? My stuff, stalling Rudy, the water, sitting on this awesome couch? This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me? In literal years?" You look over to see April giving you a watery smile. "If you have no friends…would you consider letting me be one?" You offer your glass in a toast. April picks up hers, catching on. You bring them together for a clink.
CRASH!
…and they break as soon as they touch each other. "Oh my god!" April jumps up, completely dry; you, on the other hand, are soaked. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened! Those were new glasses!"
You sigh, looking at the mess. "Of course, they were… I don't suppose you have a broom?" April went to the closet nearby and got it.
"I'm really sorry," she apologized again, "I don't even know…"
"Oh, don't worry, it's not you…" The minute you touch the broom, the head falls off. As April just stares at the (probably new) broom, you roll your eyes. "This is normal; my luck is literally that awful. You ever read Spider-Man? I've got Peter Parker's luck on steroids!
"It's not all bad. I've got a fun party trick: I can call heads or tails on a coin and be wrong every single time. Even if I call heads a hundred times in a row, it'll be tails every single time." It's almost like instinct to fall into the self-deprecation mindset. You squat down to pick up the glass by hand.
"That being said," You continue, careful not to cut yourself, "this is a legit hazard of my life so I wouldn't blame you if you couldn't afford to keep me around like this. You've really nice, but there's no reason to drag you with me.
"You know, it's almost enough to make one believe in magic, 'cause I have to be cursed – OW!" Some glass pricks your finger. The good hand too! Of all the-!
"Here, let me! Be careful!" April, completely not even looking at the glass, falls to her knees without a single cut, and begins to inspect your hand. "Doesn't look like any glass got into your hand…good." She then drags you up and pushes you to the bathroom. "Now go and flush that, just in case."
"Huh? But-"
"No buts! You want an infection!?" You turn back to her and see a fiercely determined face. "Wash it out with water, or I'll do it later with peroxide." Her face softens. "I can take care of the glass, so just clean up, alright?"
How was he still here? He broke her glass…her broom…people banned him from restaurants up and down Broadway for that!
"You're…really not mad? Even though I b-broke your stuff?" Damn, still had some tears left…now, you got water, blood, and tears on her floor-!
Every thought about to bubble up dies swiftly when April hugs you…it feels like…being hugged by a unicorn… "Stuff's not as important as a real friend. And anybody who says otherwise doesn't deserve you…"
…Huh. So that's what unconditional love feels like…that's…really nice. I mean, you're crying still, but it's not large oxygen-stealing sobs, and…hold on, you feel the corners of your mouth moving up…is this – are you smiling? You could smile!? This whole time!? And it's not fake!?
You and April stay like that for a while, before she lets go, a few tears in her own eyes. She sniffles. "Alright, enough with the gooey crap. Go! Wash up, now!" As you're halfway to the bathroom, she says one more thing. "And James? It can't be all bad luck. After all…" You look back to see her blushing a bit as she tucks that same wild strand of hair back. "…I wouldn't have met you."
…one minute. That's how long it takes for your heart to start beating again. Somewhere in that minute, you had walked to the bathroom and began to wash out your finger…Huh, usually you were picking glass out for days. Nothing this time. Funny thing…
You hear a knock at the door. April shouts something like, "Dad!" Oh, yeah, she said that before…as you hear the door open, you pat your finger dry best as you can.
"Kraang, Kraang's scanner has scanned the one suspected to be April O'Neal." You pause in your drying. That does not sound like April's father…even if you've never met him!
"Then tell Kraang. What did the scanner Kraang use say about the one suspected to be April O'Neal?" The…exact same voice asked itself, what the hell?
"It is clear to Kraang that the one suspected to be April O'Neal is, in fact, April O'Neal."
"Excellent, Kraang. Kraang, take April O'Neal."
"Hey! Stay away from me!" That was definitely April!
No No No No No No No! His job – okay, it sucked! His arm – fine, it'll heal! But goddamnit, the universal drain that is his life cannot have her!
You rip the mask out of your pocket, flipping it backward. "You want one selfless thing!? How about this – PROTECT HER!" With that, you jam the mask over your fa
….
Osgvoervgoirmhprmhtydmhbdrobmofgbmtdnmdffsdmcpsmvaermv[orsgmbortnbrtmnt8589585998598598326875463521904i59043i7965iup!
A/N: So, if anyone wants to know why I split this chapter, well... real talk, if you read that and are feeling like this ever, please reach out and get help. I've been there, and I guarantee you know someone who's been there... even if they aren't saying it. Call or talk to someone, because whatever you're feeling, it's valid, and you matter. Now, if you want to be cheered up... please read on~