Flying High

by First of the Geeks

Seeker Kevin Johnson gets signed for Puddlemere United, and not as a reserve Seeker either. And while she seems to be getting more popular by the second, all she wishes to do is find out just what exactly her relationship is with Keeper Oliver Wood. RR!

2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling, although the faeries and purple humping monkeys tried to talk me into it. But I told them no! I'm not famous, I don't get money for writing, I don't have any fans.

And no! I don't own Oliver or Percy, but that's ok. I can still dream......

Summary: Blind Seeker Kevin Johnson gets signed for Puddlemere United, and not as a reserve Seeker either. And while she seems to be getting more popular by the second, all she wishes to do is find out just what exactly her relationship is with Keeper Oliver Wood. And get away from her obsessive ex, but that can wait. Oliver/OC

Chapter Summary: Kevin goes to the meeting, only to meet a sour Alex Stiller, the reserve Seeker who doesn't think that Kevin has what it takes. A bar fight ensues. Actually, they just have a Seeking competition, but it's good all the same. Oh, and Kevin meets Oliver. Plus, it's a long chapter. Nine pages full of just the chapter, none of my little messages.

Author's Notes: Here is another chapter. It's long, my fingers hurt, and I'm tired, so it's not really that good. But It's long. Nine pages, ten with the messages, 5394 words alone with out my little messages 5732 with them. And to think it only took my three hours.

And about the Name thing. I don't know. I just like the name Kevin for a girl. Is that weird or something? I am so confused......

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I was nervous. The leg shaking, sweat on your brow, stomach queasy kind of nervous. I mean, there I was, sitting alone in a cold metal chair, waiting outside of Coach Anderson's office, going through one of the scariest days of my life, and no one had even bothered to get me a glass of water or something. It made me wonder if they really wanted me there or something.

And, on top of all that, I had a pounding headache, kind of like the one I had had the night of the Quidditch Cup. And let me tell you, these were really bad headaches, the kind that you only got when you were overly stressed, or when it was that time of the month. And believe me, I knew for certain that it wasn't that time.

Now, the only time that I had ever had headaches quite like this, at this magnitude, was a couple days before the accident. At that time, they were a warning that my sight was leaving me, but now, I had no idea what they were signifying. I mean, how could a blind person get worse vision? It made no sense.

Unless, of course, my sight was beginning to come back. But I knew that that wasn't very possible, and I had no hopes that it would come back. I mean, I wasn't a very fanciful girl. I knew that, just as many doctors had told me before, my sight would never come back again. There wasn't even a magical potion or spell that could get it back.

I knew that, but that still didn't stop me from wondering just what in God's name was going on. I mean, there were many people walking past me, talking, their heals clicking against the floor, and even though I could hear their conversation, that didn't stop me from wondering what their face looked like, nor did it stop me from wondering just what expression went with their conversations.

I think that that kind of shows you how bored I was. I mean, I was so bored, I was listening to other people's conversations, wondering what they looked like. Also, I was mad too. I was mad that I was sitting out in the waiting room, all alone. I was mad that I couldn't hear what they were talking about in there (and believe me, I tried). And I was mad that I was wearing wizarding robes instead of a pair of jeans or something.

That morning, when I Flooed to my best friend Annabelle Lexmark's house, I was in, I am sad to say, a state. And I don't mean the nervousness, although there was that too. Oh no, I am talking about the fact that I was in a fashion state. That means that I barged into her living room, holding up two different robes, standing in pretty much nothing but my bra and underwear.

Now, you may think that that is a weird thing to do. I mean, for all I knew, Annabelle had decided to bring a guy over for the night, and I was interrupting something by standing there wearing practically nothing. But fear not, little friends. I knew that Annabelle hadn't had any company that night, for I had specifically told her, the night before, that she wasn't going to bring anyone over just in case something along those lines happened.

I was actually surprised to see that she actually abided by my wishes.

But anyway, there I was, standing wearing little more than my birthday suit, when I hear Annabelle laughing a few feet to my left. So I twirled around, my arms dropping to my sides. Her laughing wasn't as loud and obnoxious as it usually was, so I was guessing that she was probably eating something.

I was getting progressively annoyed, and was having trouble at not lashing out at her. I waited a few more minutes before asking with a scowl, "Well? What's so funny?"

Annabelle didn't answer strait away, her laughing making it difficult, but when she did, there was a shrug that went along with it. "Oh, nothing. Just you."

It was at this point that I let out a half growl, half swear. This was probably the wrong thing to, erm, say, for this started Annabelle off again with another laughing fit. It was at that point that I made it my life's mission to find myself some new friends, preferably not ones that seemed to think that my life was some great comedy skit.

This was what I was thinking when Annabelle stopped laughing and asked in a disgusted voice, "What the fuck are you holding?"

Yup, I needed new friends real badly, the only problem was, how in the Hell was I going to find them?

"Are those supposed to be robes?"

I nodded my head, once again letting out the half growl thing. Thankfully, Annabelle didn't start laughing again. Instead, she jumped up off of whatever piece of furniture that she was eating on, causing the floor to squeak. Then, grabbing my hand, she dragged me across her very messy living room to her bedroom. It was there that she plopped me down on her bed, and, still holding my shoulders, said, "Sit."

I, of course, obliged. God only knows what she was pulling out of her closet. Probably some Muggle business suit that she wanted me to wear to my meeting that day. I mean, don't get me wrong. I loved Annabelle and all that good stuff, despite her many quirks. But to be brutally honest, she had the worst sense in fashion that I've ever come across.

It was a could minutes before she let out a shriek and started doing what I supposed was a face paced little jig. One that, I might add, caused her floppy water bed to do funky gyrations underneath my butt. I was still holding the edge of the bed when she said loudly, "Yes! I found it! The perfect thing!"

I was very, very afraid. I mean, God only knows what she was holding up in front of my face. For all I know, it could have been some outfit from one of her many clothing fazes, maybe even something from her weird Muggle Disco faze.

This was the only reason that I asked with trepidation, "And what would this perfect thing be?"

I was practically sent sprawling on her bed by the large wave that she used with her hand. That may sound like a massive overstatement, and if you think that that is one, then you obviously don't know Annabelle Lexmark. Anne was a very tall, and from what I understand, very beautiful blonde. She was very eccentric, and tended to overact over pretty much anything,

"Oh, don't worry. It's nothing from that whole hippie thing I was going through last summer. In fact, it's not even mine. It's Alexandria's."

I let out a sigh of relief. Alexandria was Annabelle's twin sister, and while they looked alike and shared the same genes and all that good stuff, they were exact opposites. While Annabelle was loud and boisterous, Alexandria was reserved and shy. And while Annabelle went a little overboard with her fashion sense, Alexandria was cute and conservative, thus making her the safe zone.

God I loved my friends' siblings.

"It's not much," Annabelle was rambling on, describing to me the article of clothing that she held in her hands. "It's supposed to be pleaded mini-skirt, but since you're so short, it's really only a knee length skirt to you. And the top is silver, which will make a good contrast with your light skin."

"But what about the robe?" I asked, much more calm now that I knew what she was holding. "What is that like?"

"Well, it's black, just like the skirt. Pretty plain actually, but it'll do."

There was a pause in which she flew the outfit at me, causing the bed to start wobbling again. I managed to hold on though, making sure all the while that the clothes didn't fall off the bed. "Thanks," I said, tears in my eyes. "Just, thanks."

"No problem," came Annabelle's reply. She turned around and gave me hug. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

I nodded, plastering a watery smile on my face. "Oh, you're only saying that so you feel like I'll own you money or something when I become famous." She let go of me and started walking towards the doorway.

"Wow," Annabelle said sarcastically, her voice somewhere over by her bedroom door. "You sure found out my secret plan." She walked out the door. "Now get that cute little ass dressed. You don't want to go to a meeting of such importance buck naked, do you?" And she was gone.

I dressed quickly, wanting to get to the Quidditch Headquarters as soon as possible. The meeting was to start promptly at 10:00 am, and I had a good feeling that it was probably a little before 8:30. Nothing like being late before you even start to make a good impression.

When I was done, I grabbed a pair of shoes, hoping against hope that Annabelle hadn't put some random pair of shoes in any old box, and practically ran out of her room, dodging piles of Merlin only knows what. When I got to the living room, Annabelle let out a wolf whistle, getting up off of the couch that she was sitting on.

"Girl, you look hot in that. Who ever knew that Alex knew how to look sexy?"

I just stared blankly ahead, not knowing just what to say to that. I mean, I didn't feel any different than I usually did; this was usually what I wore everyday anyway. So why was Annabelle making such a big deal out of things?

"Anyhoo," Annabelle said, clapping her hands together. "All we need is a little make up on that pretty face of yours and you'll be ready to go." And with that, she plopped me down for the second time that day on some random piece of furniture, each time doing something to help me look better. With all this attention, it would make a person wonder if they looked all that bad......

A couple minutes later, I was all done up with blush, eye shadow, and lipstick, looking, as Annabelle told me, "Perfectly natural." I wanted to ask her what the point of painting me with natural colors was, but refrained, just barely.

There was a minute or two of silence in which I put the shoes on, each foot taking a while to wrap and tie. I was just getting up to leave when I heard Annabelle ask, "Are you taking Butch?"

I snorted. Like I would take a huge dog that practically jumped on anything that was female to one of the most important meetings of my life. "No," I said, not letting out that Butch went heat-crazy whenever there was anything with legs around. "I don't think that I will. I'm going to Apparate there," I added, noting her silence.

"Oh, ok then," she said, pulling me into another bone crushing hug. "Call me later, all right? I want to hear all about your day."

After assuring her that I would, I bid her farewell and Apparated to my house, grabbing my keys and running a brush through my hair. And after a pat on the head for Butch, I headed out, Apparating to the Quidditch Headquarters.

And now, there I was, sitting in a cold chair, nervous, with a killer headache and nothing to do. I mean, it would have been nice if there were some magazines in brail I could read (trust me on this, I checked), but the headquarters, like many other places, seemed to be utterly unaware of the needs of blind people.

This was what I was thinking, (well, that and wondering what time it was), when the door across from my chair opened with a loud squeak. There was a pause in which I looked from the ceiling to where the door was located, all the while wondering if it was time for me to head into the meeting. After a second, I heard a deep voice ask me, "Miss Johnson?"

With a nod, I got up from my seat, asking myself silently if this was Coach Anderson. "Yes. And who may I ask are you?" All the while I kept walking closer to him, my shoes clicking against the floor like the people that I heard conversations from. For some odd reason, this made me feel inferior to people who I had never even met,

"Oh!" The man said, smiling and clapping his hands together. "I am the Puddlemere United coach, Timothy Anderson." He stuck out his hand for me to shake, which I did, pumping his hand up and down. "But just call me Tim for now, all right? All those words make for a long title."

I smiled, liking Tim already. He seemed to be a very nice person, one that would go out of his way to make you feel good. "Alright, Tim," I said, still smiling. "Do you need me for anything?"

"What?" He asked. "Oh, yes! Yes, as a matter of fact, they want you in there now. Sorry it took so long."

"Oh, it was nothing," I lied as I walked in the door, Tim's hand at the small of my back. "I kept occupied."

"Doing what, may I ask?" Came a jolly voice from somewhere far away. Bob.

"Wouldn't you like the know," I teased him as Tim propelled me towards an open seat. He opened the seat for me, and I sat down, thanking him with a smile.

Then Tim walked away, leaving me to become very aware of all the eyes on me. If I were a gambling person, and I wasn't, I would guess that there had to be at least seventeen people other than myself in the room, and I was very aware of all of those eyes on me, assessing me for the long run.

After a couple minutes of all of that evaluating, someone clapped their hands together, drawing the attention off of me; I secretly made them my new best friend.

"Now," Tim said, his voice loud and booming. "I am assuming that you know why you are here?" After he was done saying this, I felt everyone's eyes swivel back to me.

I shrugged. "I know a little bit. Just that you wanted me here to ask me something about signing?"

"Yes," a different voice said, and I was suddenly hit with the idea that that person was nodding their head. "We want you to sign on with us as our new Seeker for the next seven years."

I raised my eyebrows; I was shocked. Seven years? Seven years? I thought that at the most, I would be signing on for three years. But for seven? Weren't they taking a great risk?

My shock must have shown on my face, for Tim asked me, "What? Is that too much? You want us to knock off a few years? Because we can do that. James, call....."

I cut him off. "No, that's all right. I'm just surprised is all. I mean," a said, regaining my composure a bit. "I'm just some Seeker playing for the Chicago Goats. I'm just some blind Seeker playing for the Chicago Goats. What can I bring to this already great team?"

"Well," A bold female voice said from somewhere down the table. "You can bring skill, popularity, and help us show equality of the sexes."

I grinned and asked, although it was blatantly obvious who it was, "Elizabeth Popper?"

Elizabeth Popper was an infamous Quidditch player that fought for Woman's Right on days that there was no practice. This alone wouldn't have been enough to make her famous, but coupled with the fact that she was arrested almost every week, that seemed to be enough to make anyone famous in the world of Quidditch.

"Yea," she said, at once on the defensive. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Of course not," I hastened to assure her. "It's just amazing that I'm in the same room as you." Ok, so that was an ego feeder if I ever gave one, but no one needed to know that.

"Good," she said slinking down in her seat, a smile in her voice.

"Ok," the guy that had interrupted Tim about ten minutes before said. "So do you want to know what you get out of becoming our Seeker?"

I was about the answer, my mouth already open, when a loud, male voice practically yelled, "Besides popularity, money, and becoming an instant celebrity, you mean?"

I was shocked for the second time that day, and decided right on the spot that that person had a death wish. I mean, someone that thought that Quidditch was all about money and popularity had to be just some jackass that didn't even appreciate the freedom that Quidditch offered.

"Alex!" Tim said, outraged. "That was uncalled for. Apologize to Miss Johnson."

"You actually expect me to apologize to that," there was a pause in which he probably pointed to me. "Some blind Seeker that is just in it for the money and the...."

"Actually," I said coolly, angry out of my mind at the insufferable boy that probably thought that he was better than me just because he could see. "I like Quidditch as a whole. I like everything about it, even insufferable cry babies like you."

"You bitch!" The man leapt up from his seat, only a couple away from mine, and practically ran over to me. "You blind little bitch! I swear to Merlin that I'm going to...."

"Going to what?" I asked, putting a hand to my chest. "Beat a poor, defenseless, blind woman such as myself? Is that hardly fair?"

"What are you getting at?" He asked me, spittle flying into my face. I wiped it away.

"Well, it's more than a little obvious that you want this job that's being offered to me, so why don't we both put our skills to the test?"

"What the Hell are you talking about?" He asked me again, this time suspicious.

"God, I feel like I'm talking to an idiot here." There were more than a few muffled laughs at this comment, and even one loud laugh that seemed to come out unadulterated from somewhere to my right. "I'm talking about a good old fashioned Seeking competition. You know, like the coaches at Hogwarts do it...."

"I know how they do it over at Hogwarts. I was the Slytherin Seeker for two years," he added proudly, like this was something that only the best could be.

"Wow, I applaud you, I really do. It really must be a shame for you then to know that I was the Gryffindor Seeker after Harry Potter for five years."

"You were the Seeker after Harry?" A female voice asked from the same general direction as Elizabeth. "You must be really good it they replaced Harry with you."

I shrugged. "I don't know. Gryffindor was looking for a Seeker and I guess I was there."

"And I guess it's too bad that they got you, 'cause Slytherin won every years after that."

I turned my head, looking at where Alex was like he was crazy. "You are really the most asinine person I have ever met, you know that?" I asked him, knowing that he wouldn't know what in the Hell I was talking about "Slytherin never won while I was Seeker. Where's the potion that you've been drinking?"

Once again, there was laughter from all around the table, only this time, not even one was covered up with a hand. Alex waited until everyone was finished before he said, spitting in my face again, "Fine. I'll do the stupid Seeking competition with you. But," he added, shoving a hand in my face. "I'm not going easy on you." And he walked away, probably towards the changing room over by the pitch.

"Oh, ok then!" I called back after him. "Then I guess I still won't need to work much harder than usual!" And then I sat back down, twittering with my fingers, trying to block out the many eyes that were looking at me.

"Uh, sorry?" I asked after no one stopped looking at me.

"You're bloody brilliant!" Exclaimed Elizabeth from down the table. "Even I don't stand up to Alex."

I shrugged. "It's not like I'm brave or anything special. That guy is a dick, and I'm not going to let him insult the fact that I am blind."

This seemed to settle differently all over the room, and after a while, the girl that was next to Elizabeth said pointedly, "Well, I guess now is as good as any to show you the way changing rooms." And then she got up out of her seat, walking towards the door. Then Elizabeth came over to me to shake my and praise me some more as she walked me towards the doorway.

As I walked out the doorway, Elizabeth next to me, I became aware that someone was watching me exit the room. I had a good feeling that it was Tim Anderson, probably wondering just what in the Hell he had gotten himself into.

"You can just use my robes," Elizabeth said, handing me a pile of silky fabric. I thanked her and turned around, unbuttoning my robes and blouse. I was just getting ready to put on the robes when I realized that Elizabeth was being very quite.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, worried. "Is there anything wrong?"

I heard her shake her head as she sat down on the bench next to me. "No, I'm fine. I was just thinking about your performance back there."

"It wasn't a performance," I said angrily, pulling on boots. "That guy is a serious asshole, and I just hate people like that; I've had to live around a lot of people like that, and it just brings back bad memories."

"It's ok. I can kind of relate," she said as she handed me her broom. By the weight and feel of it, it was a Firebolt, and it was kept in very good condition. "I mean, I was born deaf, but before my surgery, I couldn't hear a damn thing."

"Well," I said as I headed towards the doorway. "At least you had the option of a surgery." And I headed out into the Quidditch pitch, leaving Elizabeth behind me.

As I walked out onto the field, I felt the sun beating down on my neck and back, helping me feel alive. My hair was pulled back in a tight bun at the back of my head, and I was thankful that Annabelle hadn't talked me into doing it in some elaborate style. My borrowed boots were at least two sizes too big, as were the robes, but over all, I felt very good about myself.

Somewhere through my thinking process, Elizabeth had caught up with me and was now walking silently beside me, probably thinking she was giving my support or something, when in reality, she was just making me even more nervous than I already was.

It took us a couple minutes to get to where Alex was, and I knew strait away that he was in a bad mood. His whole body was giving off this aura around him that seemed to make the very ground he was standing on reverberate with his heart beat. It was enough to make my headache come back, full throttle.

"Are you ready?" He asked me in a smug voice, obviously thinking that he was going to better me at Quidditch just because he could see.

I shrugged. "Sure. It's not like this will be difficult." I was putting up a good bravado, but I wondered if her thought it was real.

"Just get on the damn broom," he said, his jaw clenched.

So I did, straddling the broom, feeling it underneath my hands. It seemed to be moving with it's own energy, probably getting fed by my own adrenalin rush. It was all kind of invigorating, and seemed to give me actual courage, not any of the fake stuff that I was using as a face earlier.

"One......" Tim's voice said from a place that seemed far away. I centered my weight evenly on my feet.

"Two....." I heard Alex laugh under his breath and say something that sounded a lot like, "Stupid blind bitch." I forced more power on my feet, ready to push up off of the ground.

"Three...." I pushed off with all my might, leaving Alex in the dust behind me.

I circled the pitch for a couple minutes, getting the feel of it. The people on the ground seemed to understand this, and waiting until I had stopped before one of them yelled, "Ok! I'm letting the Snich go now! Be ready for it!"

And, from fifty feet above the ground, I heard the tiny flapping of the Snich's wigs before it sped off into the dark oblivion.

Now, many people have asked me just how I do the job as Seeker on many, many occasions. They seemed to think that it was impossible for a blind person, especially a woman, to be Seeker, and actually be good at it. It was times like these that really pissed me off.

To tell you the truth, this annoyed me more than my memories of the first couple of weeks of my blindness because I didn't have a good answer. I mean, I just played. I just lived in the moment. When I first told people this, they seemed to think I was inane. Why, I didn't know. One day, I finally, I got the courage to ask a fellow Quidditch player why this was so weird, and he told me that it was because no one else said that Quidditch was like that. He told me that most of the time, people said that it was help from all of the strategies and fellow team members.

And then he walked away, just like everyone else did, probably thinking that I was absurd and that going blind screwed up my brain cells.

But that was in the Past, and I had told myself long ago that I would live in the Present, not dwelling on things that I couldn't change. So I forced myself to pay attention to the game.

I could tell that Alex had no clue where the Snich was, how I don't know. I just knew that he was bobbing up and down in the air, staying in one place, searching around the pitch for any flash of gold.

That was another difference between myself and other Seekers. They relied on sight to help them win a match. They didn't even seem to realize that all of their senses played into just the small act of catching the Snich.

Take, for instance, touch. With the sense of touch, you would be able to feel the difference in the air pressure, and at the end, grasping the Snich around their hand.

Sight was a given.

Taste was and could be used as a test for the wind, to see if there was any other thing sharing the air around you.

Smell was used just as taste was, as they pretty much played together.

Hearing was and still is the most important though. Hearing helped you listen for Bludgers whizzing by you, helped you hear any sounds from the fans or the other team members. But it also helped you listen for the soft fluttering of wings.

And that was what I was doing then. I was perched up on my borrowed broom, craning my neck for that one particular noise that I had listened for, for many times in my life. It was the sound of victory, my heartbeat, my life. And I wasn't going to let some punk like Alex take that away from me.

"Hey, bitch!" The punk in question yelled to me. "The Snich is right next to you. Why don't you grab it?" He asked sarcastically. "Save us both some trouble."

"I would, you idiot!" I yelled back. "Only the Snich is no where near me. Sorry!"

I knew that Alex had just opened his mouth to retort, when I heard it. The tiny flapping of wings, the sound of life. It was coming from somewhere way, way down towards the bottom on the pitch. Without consciously thinking about it, I dived, leaving Alex in my dust.

Now, even to this day, I don't know why Alex didn't dive right after me, but I have a good idea that it had something to do with the fact that he thought I was feinting. Either that, or he was just an idiot, and blind like me. Actually, now that I think about it, those options both work....

But anyway, it took a while for Alex to realize that I had indeed seen the Snich, and he did speed on after me, but by then, it was too late. By then, I was lying flat on my stomach, my weight even, my hand outstretched. He had to be a good twenty feet in back of me when I grasped the little golden ball.

I felt my life flutter helplessly in my palm as I flew down towards the ground, landing on the grass in the middle of cheering people. They all ran towards me as I looked down at my palm, hearing the small ball practically tell me to let go.

I, of course, did not, instead deciding to hold onto it for just a couple minutes more. I guess that that was for the best, for just as I made my decision, Tim can over to me and grasped my hand that wasn't holding the Snich, pumping it up and down again.

"That was a great catch!" Elizabeth cried, wrapping her arms around my neck. "That was bloody great!"

"Erm," I said, blushing. "Thanks, I guess."

"Kevin!" Bob called from somewhere in the middle of the crowd. "Kevin, that was great! Not one of your best, I must say, but great all the same."

"Thanks for the crumbs off of your plate, Bob," I said dryly, handing the Snich to the first person, which turned out to be Elizabeth. I turned towards Tim. "So, Tim, do you think that I'm going to be signing anytime soon....?"

I heard the smile in his voice when he told me, "Oh, yes, I think you will. Just wait for me to get the papers and a pen, and we'll be ready to role."

"That's good," I said. "But I kind of need to hit the showers, if you know what I mean....."

Everyone laughed and backed away, still telling me that that was a great catch. I was just about to turn around and head towards the changing room when Alex called up to our little group, malice in his voice, "This isn't over yet, Johnson. I'll see to that."

"Oh, I'm shaking!" I said dramatically to everyone in the little ground, knowing that Alex couldn't hear me. "I think I'm going to drown myself in the shower now." And on that note, I walked away, leaving everyone laughing behind me.

But, just as I was about to head into the room, I heard a deep voice with a Scottish accent say to me, "You might want to watch out where Stiller is concerned. I've known him a lot longer than you have. You don't know what he's capable of."

"That's nice Mr....?"

"Wood," the man said without emotion. "Oliver Wood."

"Well Oliver," I said, pushing my now free hair behind my ears; as I went into the dive, it came loose. "You don't know me at all, so you don't what I'm capable of. Good bye."

With those words, I left him standing there, probably with a dumbfound expression on his face. But I was too stoked to care.

I had to call Annabelle to tell her the good news.

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My poor fingers! I have been typing for three hours, only managing to get nine pages done. I feel like such a failure! Please, please don't kill me!

I'll give you a cookie. Or marshmallows. Or maybe a brownie? But please, for the sake of this bribe, don't kill me! Please!

My poor fingers! Hurts too much to type.

Must get sleep, as it is 2:50 over here. Sleep good.

Reviewing good to. Loosing your mind bad, very, very, bad.

Review please!

Peace,

Melly Mel-Mel