Hi everyone! I'm so sorry about the delay in all the updates...I have a bunch of stuff written...but my computer is as good as broken. :(
Plus, school starts tomorrow- tomorrow!- and I'm totally unprepared, so I haven't had the time. Thank you all for the great reviews; they're appreciated, as always. :)
I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It's a bit longer, so hopefully that'll satisfy you. :)
And, just to answer any questions about this class Chandler is taking...I really don't know what philosophy classes do, lol, so I'm making it up. :D Well...I don't know exactly what normal classes do, but I know what theirs will. I just needed him to take a class to...well, you'll see. :)
Thanks for all the ideas about her weight. I'm going to go with about 230 lbs. It seems about right. :)
Please enjoy, read, and review. :D (In that order. ;) You know, if you want to.)
----
She was cold- freezing, in fact.
Wind billowed around her, making her thick hair swirl furiously into the breeze.
She was standing at the edge of a cliff, a cliff that overlooked the waves crashing against the rocky shore from the ocean below.
The cliff was her haven; the sense of absoluteness that she had sought after for so long.
Seagulls cried out her name in anguish, begging her to stay put...pleading with her not to jump to her demise.
Toes positioned precariously at the edge, she leaned back and forth into the wind, humming her silent song and dancing inside her weathered heart.
The song she sang was too perfect for words; her dance too free for movement.
She was so wonderful...so special in her own way.
But she was getting cold.
So cold from the rocky cliff that was slowly beginning to erode from the waves tearing against its surface. So cold from listening to the seagull's taunting cries...they begged her not to jump, but they had been the reason she thought of jumping in the first place. So cold from standing at the cliff's edge for so long.
Cold from loneliness. Cold from heartbreak. Cold from the fear of the cold itself.
Her heart pounded in tempo with the crescendoing waves. Stealthily, the beat quickened as the tide rolled in from the depths of the ocean. Night would soon blacken the iridescent pink sheen stretched across the vast horizon.
Soon it would be colder.
Waves erupted from the once steady sheet of blue. Once there was rhythm. Before, there had been rhyme.
Now, she simply didn't have the time.
Out of time, the waves pounded, thrashing wildly on the rocky cliffside. As they crept back into the ocean, the waves left their mark: a dark, wet stain, splashed upon the surface.
They left a kiss...the kiss of lingering death.
Thunder clapped in the distance, its power resounding her decision.
It was time to jump.
Taking the plunge, she swiftly dived into the rocky waters below, never to return again.
Now, the seagulls mourned, for it was their taunting cries that had pushed her over the edge.
As her body washed up to the shore, lifeless and numb, the seagulls hummed a low melody, brimming with solemn tones and soft cries.
A requiem.
----
Drenched in cold sweat, Monica awoke with a start.
There had been a dream, she knew. It wasn't often that her dreams had a message, but something told her to listen. Something was awry.
The only catch? She couldn't remember it.
Dear Diary,
I just had the weirdest dream. I feel like I should remember it. I woke up...scared. Only the feeling stayed with me as I awoke; I can't remember the exact dream. Something tells me there was an ocean. Something tells me I need to remember this dream...
Oh well. It's the first day of school for the new year. I hate January, but whatever. There's nothing I can do, huh? Well, I'm off to another boring day at school. I'll post my New Years resolutions in here, too.
Love,
Monica
Things I want to accomplish before this year ends
1. Lose weight (amount undetermined- enough to notice)
2. Make more friends (I hardly see Rachel enough)
3. Make my parents proud of me (maybe if I'm thin)
4. Get all A's like Ross (I can do it, too)
5. Stop biting my nails (They'll grow if I let them)
6. STOP thinking about Chandler Bing so much...it's not my fault if we're more alike than he realizes...the guy thinks you're weird...not to mention fat.
7. Become beautiful. It's all I want, to be one of them...someone who is beautiful.
Beautiful...the word sounded amazing.
'wow,' she wondered. 'What would it be like to be beautiful?'
In her innocent eyes, beauty was only what met the eye. The flowing hair, ravishing smile, svelte body.
Getting off her bed, she slipped into an outfit she had lain out for school. It was a new dress, a hazy blue with little white flowers. It was a bit too soon to wear it, as it was January and it was more of an April dress, but Monica didn't know how much longer she planned to be 230 pounds...and she wanted to get some wear out of it.
Today felt like a day to wear that gorgeous dress...it was magical, almost. In her mind, she played out the future day to be one that would change her life forever.
If only she knew.
----
"Thanks again, man, for letting me stay with you these past couple of days," Chandler said while on his way to school. He kicked graying piles of disheveled snow across campus.
"Yeah, no problem. My mom loves company...and so does Monica," hinted Ross.
"Great," Chandler replied nonchalantly, not realizing the second meaning behind his friend's words.
During the remainder of the days in the past year, Monica and Chandler had barely said two words to one another.
Her crush on him was still going strong...as was her desire to lose the weight he had criticized her for.
"So," Ross broke the silence, "any new classes for you this semester?"
"Eh...not much." Chandler had been rather quiet since Christmas. "Some philosophy class. Shouldn't be too hard."
"Yeah. That sounds cool," Ross muttered as they reached his class. "This is me. Catch up with you later?"
"Sure."
As Chandler continued down the hallway, a stampede of students broke through, seemingly charging at him. In reality, Chandler knew that it was all in his imagination...but why did the world seem to be sneering-cheering-at those who were against him?
----
Feeling oddly confident, Monica strode alone through the masses in the hall. It was like a sea, populated by the most widely assorted varieties of fish.
Though confidence carried her through inside, Monica kept her head hung low, pretending to be immensely interested in the patterns of the floor tiles.
'What's the point in feeling semi-confident if I don't exult it?'
The outfit made her feel better about herself: she was slightly lighter...and the blue in the soft fabric brought out her eyes. Beautifully.
So she held her head high, looked towards the florescent yellow lighting on the dingy ceiling. Suddenly, she seemed to be flying; what a difference feeling good about yourself could make!
And then it happened.
Terribly, almost in slow motion, she stumbled, tripped, over an outstretched foot, and fell flat on her face in front of a crowd. Cringing, Monica struggled to get back up, even when she heard the jeers from her fellow classmates.
Her creamy complexion melted into a deep crimson. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn't let them pass the barrier.
Snickers floated throughout the hallway. "She looks like a beached whale in that dress!" shrieked a blond girl in a cheerleading uniform.
"Yeah," screamed her equally foul friend while obnoxiously popping her pink bubble gum. "Go drown yourself in the ocean, whale!"
Behind the two girls was Rachel, head hung low and an expression of helplessness written across her face. As she passed by Monica, she shook her head and attempted a smile. Monica saw that her eyes shone with tears.
"Wait!" Monica wanted to cry out. "Can't you stand here and talk to me for a minute? I thought we were friends! You're my best- my only!- friend and I need your help." Her eyes pleaded, but mouth didn't speak.
Rachel attempted to slow down, but her arm was seized by the gum-popper. "Rach!" she squealed. "Look at that guy! Ohmigod, I've never seen him before! He must be new! Do I look okay?" And away she pulled Monica's only hope.
Every face in the hallway seemed to scream at her as she made her way to her first class of the day, Honors English.
"Go drown yourself in the ocean, whale!"
Too bad there wasn't an ocean at her disposure- she felt like the water could soothe her.
Save her from the prison that was her life.
----
"Hello, and my name is Mr. Whitmore. We'll all be spending some time together during the next few months." The aging man beamed broadly at his class.
'Great,' thought Chandler, 'another teacher who thinks they'll change your life with their magical presence. Well, I'm just thrilled to be wasting my time with you, too, buddy.'
"Now, you may be wondering what exactly we will be learning in," he paused for a dramatic effect, "Philosophy."
Good Lord.
"Let me tell you something- we're not going to be discussing what people analyzed far too carefully in the past. No, no, no. What we will be talking about are the things that will be relevant to you. You," he emphasized, flashing his teeth widely at the already listless students.
"For who you are is just as important as what you do. And what you stand for."
'This man is worse that Mr. Rogers.'
"You are beautiful people with beautiful lessons to learn."
How the hell was this philosophy?
"Now, what we will discuss-" he grinned, "is how we can help you through life by seeing the beauty in everything, appreciating everything life gives you, and analyzing how theories of the greatest can be played out into our lives today."
What was this, a self-help motivation class?
Worse yet, it was another prison; a prison to remind Chandler of everything he wasn't.
He gazed out the window and watched how the birds soared gracefully through the sky, breaking free of all barriers.
He sighed. Everything he was not wasn't anything he wanted to be.
----
They were supposed to write a poem...this much Monica knew. The rest of it she had drowned (drowned!) out by focusing on the birds outside, and not the droll of her English teacher.
"...you have twenty minutes to finish your poems. Starting...now."
'What the hell am I supposed to do? Write a poem? About WHAT?'
She didn't want to kick off the new year with a bad start, so she began to write.
Words flew freely out of her ink pen, cutting a piece of her heart with it as the words were displayed on paper.
'I cannot move, cannot speak down under here I cannot breathe, my body's weak under the ocean clear I'm drowning here in my own blood deep blue waters are all I can see with the water my lungs flood As I become one with the sea'
She finished in minutes, looking her poem over.
Mariah Gilbert, a mousy looking girl that sat to the right of Monica gasped as she read Monica's poem over her shoulder. "Oh my God! That's a poem about your winter break?"
'Oh, so that's what we're supposed to write about. And who the hell does this girl think she is to look at my work? She's just another person who thinks...knows...she has power over me. But why the hell a poem about winter break? Isn't this an honors English class?'
Still, she shoved the loose leaf piece of paper in her binder and started anew.
Monica finished last, narrowly making the twenty minutes of allotted time.
"Look at her," Mariah Gilbert whispered to her friend. "Is she stupid? It takes her forever to write a freakin poem!"
"Yeah," the other girl retorted. "I wonder what she did for Christmas...No, no...I wonder what she ATE for Christmas!" The girls face flushed as she got a brilliant idea. "Maybe it was her FAMILY!"
Feeling her heart pound angrily inside her chest, Monica stood up and asked permission to use the restroom.
'I've got to get outta here. I'm going to be sick!'
Shaking, she led herself inside the stall, taking out her diary and pen as she went.
Diary-
I hate this...this life, if that's what you want to call it. It's just not fair. How can people be laughing at me? Making fun of me? Am I just such an easy target because I'm large?
And Rachel can't even help me...It's not her fault, but it's all her fault. I'm desperate. Confused. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore. Please save me...save me from this prison I've created behind these pounds.
Please, someone. I can't do it anymore. I don't even know what I need at this point, except to be accepted. And if I have to be thin for this to happen, then damnit, I will be!
-Mon
She pressed so hard into the paper that the ink bled through and tore the paper in half, but Monica didn't care. It made her feel better...something besides her heart was now torn.
It was at that moment that an idea began to form.
The idea was so terrible, so wonderful, so EASY, that she wondered why it hadn't occurred to her earlier.
After all, she could eat practically nothing, starve, and still be burdened by the pounds.
But, why not eat all she wanted, and rid of the food immediately thereafter?
Her insides churned, stomach doing flip-flops in its large arena.
Slowly, she raised her hand to her mouth and reached her first two fingers into the depths of her throat.
This wouldn't become a way of life for her, she promised. Just a way to speed up the process a little more.
She felt her food bubble up inside her chest and rise. Choking, she removed her fingers from her mouth and breathed.
'No. You have to do this. Toughen up!'
She closed her eyes, and to her surprise, saw Chandler's face.
'Do it so he'll like you,' a voice inside her head urged. 'Do it so you can be beautiful!'
The harsh liquid burned her throat and made her weak in the knees. Monica coughed heavily, but felt a strong sense of accomplishment.
Once more, she reached for the back of her throat...this time peering into the swimming waters of the toilet.
When she had finished, she came close to realizing the similarities between the taunting cries of her peers and the new way of life she was sure to find refuge in.
One way, she had been ordered to drown herself in the ocean.
This way, she was taking the plunge herself.
Instead of the ocean, she was drowning in her own misery.
And that was an ocean far too dangerous to cross.
----
I hope you guys liked it. This chapter was more of a filler chapter, actually, but it needed to be there. Hence the filling. ;)
And to all those of you who I haven't talked to in like a million years, I am soooo sorry, miss you all, and will talk to you soon. Once this piece of junk I call my computer gets fixed. :) (We spent a hundred dollars on software to get it fixed, and I think it did more harm than good. Figures.)
Please leave me a review because I have school tomorrow. :) LOL there's my reason. Oh, and if you liked the chapter. :)
I'll post the next one soon. Sooner than this one was posted, I promise. Any questions, comments, reviews, etc. are welcome. :)
Thanks!
Mel
:)
Plus, school starts tomorrow- tomorrow!- and I'm totally unprepared, so I haven't had the time. Thank you all for the great reviews; they're appreciated, as always. :)
I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It's a bit longer, so hopefully that'll satisfy you. :)
And, just to answer any questions about this class Chandler is taking...I really don't know what philosophy classes do, lol, so I'm making it up. :D Well...I don't know exactly what normal classes do, but I know what theirs will. I just needed him to take a class to...well, you'll see. :)
Thanks for all the ideas about her weight. I'm going to go with about 230 lbs. It seems about right. :)
Please enjoy, read, and review. :D (In that order. ;) You know, if you want to.)
----
She was cold- freezing, in fact.
Wind billowed around her, making her thick hair swirl furiously into the breeze.
She was standing at the edge of a cliff, a cliff that overlooked the waves crashing against the rocky shore from the ocean below.
The cliff was her haven; the sense of absoluteness that she had sought after for so long.
Seagulls cried out her name in anguish, begging her to stay put...pleading with her not to jump to her demise.
Toes positioned precariously at the edge, she leaned back and forth into the wind, humming her silent song and dancing inside her weathered heart.
The song she sang was too perfect for words; her dance too free for movement.
She was so wonderful...so special in her own way.
But she was getting cold.
So cold from the rocky cliff that was slowly beginning to erode from the waves tearing against its surface. So cold from listening to the seagull's taunting cries...they begged her not to jump, but they had been the reason she thought of jumping in the first place. So cold from standing at the cliff's edge for so long.
Cold from loneliness. Cold from heartbreak. Cold from the fear of the cold itself.
Her heart pounded in tempo with the crescendoing waves. Stealthily, the beat quickened as the tide rolled in from the depths of the ocean. Night would soon blacken the iridescent pink sheen stretched across the vast horizon.
Soon it would be colder.
Waves erupted from the once steady sheet of blue. Once there was rhythm. Before, there had been rhyme.
Now, she simply didn't have the time.
Out of time, the waves pounded, thrashing wildly on the rocky cliffside. As they crept back into the ocean, the waves left their mark: a dark, wet stain, splashed upon the surface.
They left a kiss...the kiss of lingering death.
Thunder clapped in the distance, its power resounding her decision.
It was time to jump.
Taking the plunge, she swiftly dived into the rocky waters below, never to return again.
Now, the seagulls mourned, for it was their taunting cries that had pushed her over the edge.
As her body washed up to the shore, lifeless and numb, the seagulls hummed a low melody, brimming with solemn tones and soft cries.
A requiem.
----
Drenched in cold sweat, Monica awoke with a start.
There had been a dream, she knew. It wasn't often that her dreams had a message, but something told her to listen. Something was awry.
The only catch? She couldn't remember it.
Dear Diary,
I just had the weirdest dream. I feel like I should remember it. I woke up...scared. Only the feeling stayed with me as I awoke; I can't remember the exact dream. Something tells me there was an ocean. Something tells me I need to remember this dream...
Oh well. It's the first day of school for the new year. I hate January, but whatever. There's nothing I can do, huh? Well, I'm off to another boring day at school. I'll post my New Years resolutions in here, too.
Love,
Monica
Things I want to accomplish before this year ends
1. Lose weight (amount undetermined- enough to notice)
2. Make more friends (I hardly see Rachel enough)
3. Make my parents proud of me (maybe if I'm thin)
4. Get all A's like Ross (I can do it, too)
5. Stop biting my nails (They'll grow if I let them)
6. STOP thinking about Chandler Bing so much...it's not my fault if we're more alike than he realizes...the guy thinks you're weird...not to mention fat.
7. Become beautiful. It's all I want, to be one of them...someone who is beautiful.
Beautiful...the word sounded amazing.
'wow,' she wondered. 'What would it be like to be beautiful?'
In her innocent eyes, beauty was only what met the eye. The flowing hair, ravishing smile, svelte body.
Getting off her bed, she slipped into an outfit she had lain out for school. It was a new dress, a hazy blue with little white flowers. It was a bit too soon to wear it, as it was January and it was more of an April dress, but Monica didn't know how much longer she planned to be 230 pounds...and she wanted to get some wear out of it.
Today felt like a day to wear that gorgeous dress...it was magical, almost. In her mind, she played out the future day to be one that would change her life forever.
If only she knew.
----
"Thanks again, man, for letting me stay with you these past couple of days," Chandler said while on his way to school. He kicked graying piles of disheveled snow across campus.
"Yeah, no problem. My mom loves company...and so does Monica," hinted Ross.
"Great," Chandler replied nonchalantly, not realizing the second meaning behind his friend's words.
During the remainder of the days in the past year, Monica and Chandler had barely said two words to one another.
Her crush on him was still going strong...as was her desire to lose the weight he had criticized her for.
"So," Ross broke the silence, "any new classes for you this semester?"
"Eh...not much." Chandler had been rather quiet since Christmas. "Some philosophy class. Shouldn't be too hard."
"Yeah. That sounds cool," Ross muttered as they reached his class. "This is me. Catch up with you later?"
"Sure."
As Chandler continued down the hallway, a stampede of students broke through, seemingly charging at him. In reality, Chandler knew that it was all in his imagination...but why did the world seem to be sneering-cheering-at those who were against him?
----
Feeling oddly confident, Monica strode alone through the masses in the hall. It was like a sea, populated by the most widely assorted varieties of fish.
Though confidence carried her through inside, Monica kept her head hung low, pretending to be immensely interested in the patterns of the floor tiles.
'What's the point in feeling semi-confident if I don't exult it?'
The outfit made her feel better about herself: she was slightly lighter...and the blue in the soft fabric brought out her eyes. Beautifully.
So she held her head high, looked towards the florescent yellow lighting on the dingy ceiling. Suddenly, she seemed to be flying; what a difference feeling good about yourself could make!
And then it happened.
Terribly, almost in slow motion, she stumbled, tripped, over an outstretched foot, and fell flat on her face in front of a crowd. Cringing, Monica struggled to get back up, even when she heard the jeers from her fellow classmates.
Her creamy complexion melted into a deep crimson. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn't let them pass the barrier.
Snickers floated throughout the hallway. "She looks like a beached whale in that dress!" shrieked a blond girl in a cheerleading uniform.
"Yeah," screamed her equally foul friend while obnoxiously popping her pink bubble gum. "Go drown yourself in the ocean, whale!"
Behind the two girls was Rachel, head hung low and an expression of helplessness written across her face. As she passed by Monica, she shook her head and attempted a smile. Monica saw that her eyes shone with tears.
"Wait!" Monica wanted to cry out. "Can't you stand here and talk to me for a minute? I thought we were friends! You're my best- my only!- friend and I need your help." Her eyes pleaded, but mouth didn't speak.
Rachel attempted to slow down, but her arm was seized by the gum-popper. "Rach!" she squealed. "Look at that guy! Ohmigod, I've never seen him before! He must be new! Do I look okay?" And away she pulled Monica's only hope.
Every face in the hallway seemed to scream at her as she made her way to her first class of the day, Honors English.
"Go drown yourself in the ocean, whale!"
Too bad there wasn't an ocean at her disposure- she felt like the water could soothe her.
Save her from the prison that was her life.
----
"Hello, and my name is Mr. Whitmore. We'll all be spending some time together during the next few months." The aging man beamed broadly at his class.
'Great,' thought Chandler, 'another teacher who thinks they'll change your life with their magical presence. Well, I'm just thrilled to be wasting my time with you, too, buddy.'
"Now, you may be wondering what exactly we will be learning in," he paused for a dramatic effect, "Philosophy."
Good Lord.
"Let me tell you something- we're not going to be discussing what people analyzed far too carefully in the past. No, no, no. What we will be talking about are the things that will be relevant to you. You," he emphasized, flashing his teeth widely at the already listless students.
"For who you are is just as important as what you do. And what you stand for."
'This man is worse that Mr. Rogers.'
"You are beautiful people with beautiful lessons to learn."
How the hell was this philosophy?
"Now, what we will discuss-" he grinned, "is how we can help you through life by seeing the beauty in everything, appreciating everything life gives you, and analyzing how theories of the greatest can be played out into our lives today."
What was this, a self-help motivation class?
Worse yet, it was another prison; a prison to remind Chandler of everything he wasn't.
He gazed out the window and watched how the birds soared gracefully through the sky, breaking free of all barriers.
He sighed. Everything he was not wasn't anything he wanted to be.
----
They were supposed to write a poem...this much Monica knew. The rest of it she had drowned (drowned!) out by focusing on the birds outside, and not the droll of her English teacher.
"...you have twenty minutes to finish your poems. Starting...now."
'What the hell am I supposed to do? Write a poem? About WHAT?'
She didn't want to kick off the new year with a bad start, so she began to write.
Words flew freely out of her ink pen, cutting a piece of her heart with it as the words were displayed on paper.
'I cannot move, cannot speak down under here I cannot breathe, my body's weak under the ocean clear I'm drowning here in my own blood deep blue waters are all I can see with the water my lungs flood As I become one with the sea'
She finished in minutes, looking her poem over.
Mariah Gilbert, a mousy looking girl that sat to the right of Monica gasped as she read Monica's poem over her shoulder. "Oh my God! That's a poem about your winter break?"
'Oh, so that's what we're supposed to write about. And who the hell does this girl think she is to look at my work? She's just another person who thinks...knows...she has power over me. But why the hell a poem about winter break? Isn't this an honors English class?'
Still, she shoved the loose leaf piece of paper in her binder and started anew.
Monica finished last, narrowly making the twenty minutes of allotted time.
"Look at her," Mariah Gilbert whispered to her friend. "Is she stupid? It takes her forever to write a freakin poem!"
"Yeah," the other girl retorted. "I wonder what she did for Christmas...No, no...I wonder what she ATE for Christmas!" The girls face flushed as she got a brilliant idea. "Maybe it was her FAMILY!"
Feeling her heart pound angrily inside her chest, Monica stood up and asked permission to use the restroom.
'I've got to get outta here. I'm going to be sick!'
Shaking, she led herself inside the stall, taking out her diary and pen as she went.
Diary-
I hate this...this life, if that's what you want to call it. It's just not fair. How can people be laughing at me? Making fun of me? Am I just such an easy target because I'm large?
And Rachel can't even help me...It's not her fault, but it's all her fault. I'm desperate. Confused. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore. Please save me...save me from this prison I've created behind these pounds.
Please, someone. I can't do it anymore. I don't even know what I need at this point, except to be accepted. And if I have to be thin for this to happen, then damnit, I will be!
-Mon
She pressed so hard into the paper that the ink bled through and tore the paper in half, but Monica didn't care. It made her feel better...something besides her heart was now torn.
It was at that moment that an idea began to form.
The idea was so terrible, so wonderful, so EASY, that she wondered why it hadn't occurred to her earlier.
After all, she could eat practically nothing, starve, and still be burdened by the pounds.
But, why not eat all she wanted, and rid of the food immediately thereafter?
Her insides churned, stomach doing flip-flops in its large arena.
Slowly, she raised her hand to her mouth and reached her first two fingers into the depths of her throat.
This wouldn't become a way of life for her, she promised. Just a way to speed up the process a little more.
She felt her food bubble up inside her chest and rise. Choking, she removed her fingers from her mouth and breathed.
'No. You have to do this. Toughen up!'
She closed her eyes, and to her surprise, saw Chandler's face.
'Do it so he'll like you,' a voice inside her head urged. 'Do it so you can be beautiful!'
The harsh liquid burned her throat and made her weak in the knees. Monica coughed heavily, but felt a strong sense of accomplishment.
Once more, she reached for the back of her throat...this time peering into the swimming waters of the toilet.
When she had finished, she came close to realizing the similarities between the taunting cries of her peers and the new way of life she was sure to find refuge in.
One way, she had been ordered to drown herself in the ocean.
This way, she was taking the plunge herself.
Instead of the ocean, she was drowning in her own misery.
And that was an ocean far too dangerous to cross.
----
I hope you guys liked it. This chapter was more of a filler chapter, actually, but it needed to be there. Hence the filling. ;)
And to all those of you who I haven't talked to in like a million years, I am soooo sorry, miss you all, and will talk to you soon. Once this piece of junk I call my computer gets fixed. :) (We spent a hundred dollars on software to get it fixed, and I think it did more harm than good. Figures.)
Please leave me a review because I have school tomorrow. :) LOL there's my reason. Oh, and if you liked the chapter. :)
I'll post the next one soon. Sooner than this one was posted, I promise. Any questions, comments, reviews, etc. are welcome. :)
Thanks!
Mel
:)