A/N: Now that I've finally breathed life into the very much hated Belinda and Mathieu (except by Katie, Annie, Keri, and myself of course because they're my fucked up beautiful people and unlike all of the other CI characters in here, I own them entirely mwahahaha) it's about time you understood a little about Trevor.

This is for Sam, who just broke my heart by telling me that she won't be able to update Breaking the Broken for a while. Wahh. For those of you who haven't checked that out, you should. It's kickass.

Chapter 19: Desire's Manifestations

"Never a possession, always the possessor, with skin as pale as smoke, and eyes tawny and sharp as yellow wine: Desire is everything you have ever wanted. Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Everything."

-Neil Gaiman

We are driven by desire. The desire for more, that inner craving to experience each and every pleasure life, with all its complications, can ever offer. It's what gets you to fall asleep each night, the desire for a better day to follow, the desire for this day to end, the craving to fill that confused, hollowness in your soul. It manifests itself in different ways, a shape shifter that simultaneously changes as it reads your mind. What do you want? If you attain it, you're either left salivating for more or you want something different and something more at the same time.

It was desire, that persistent, passionate seductress woven into one's mind, which caused Trevor Smith a certain kind of longing for the face that graced the magazines. Lush, blond hair, sexy gray eyes, a perfect body he would have gladly spent the rest of his life buried into.

Trevor understands. Trevor cares. That's what Annette said to Sebastian during The Bet, and Trevor did indeed understand. Then. Now, however, now was an entirely different concept. In the past few weeks, his life hadn't even resembled the normalcy it did in the past. Meeting Belinda, her strange yet so beautifully colored eyes fixed upon him, the bizarre proposition that escaped her red mouth, and the Trevor Smith Annette Hargrove fell in love with, even with all his morals and understanding, was slowly succumbing to his desire to be with her. Never mind the fact that he somehow knew he was being used, all he had to do was remember how she'd whispered in his ear, how her tongue flickered over his lips while he could only stare at her in sheer wonder and admiration. Belinda Van Ryan was a drug; she was every bad habit he should never even try. She was every female he'd secretly lusted after, a combination of all the traits he loved wrapped into one particularly sinister albeit gorgeous package.

But he did try the drug. And he wanted more. She was so different from all the other women he'd dated, and even further from Annette. While they both had the same general hair color, (although Belinda's were a darker shade), it was where the similarities ended. For one thing, Belinda was the object of lust of about every man who'd ever seen her (There are of course, two men who held her younger sister very near and very much venerated in their own visions of desire and love, but Trevor didn't quite understand that.), and he felt like he couldn't escape her. She was everywhere he looked, in every svelte woman he ran into, not to mention in every damn magazine and billboard that had to feature her with that smoldering look of hers.

Perhaps you might call it sudden. How could he forsake the woman he'd loved for a chance with the unattainable goddess who'd allowed him to taste that exquisite nectar of lust? Trevor might understand. Trevor might care, but Trevor was still a man. And men, according to the Merteuil siblings, were simply toys (Except again for two very charming men Belinda and Kathryn loved) and could be bent and broken as they wished, given the right temptation. It was for this reason, aside from the utter look of blind love in his eyes for a woman who wouldn't even return his calls, that he managed to crush that amount of guilt he had whenever his ex girlfriend confided in him about Sebastian. He had to have her. It didn't matter how long; he just had to have her again.

Desire was a powerful motivator and as Trevor tried his best to listen to Annette, who'd finally told him about that intriguing bet that had transpired and that had brought on their breakup, he focused on her blue eyes and imagined they were gray. Then, there was that name. Belinda. Something about having a ladder hit her head during rehearsals the other day. Then something about Sebastian growing more distant and how Annette was in love with him and didn't know what to do. Then something about Belinda again. About rumors of a concussion and how she had been confined to the hospital.

"Who?"

She gave him a confused look, "That blond model, Belinda. You've heard of her right? She's Kathryn's sister."

"She's what!" Even though he'd never laid eyes on Kathryn Merteuil, the name alone gave him the chills. Sebastian Valmont and Kathryn Merteuil, Mathieu De Comte and Belinda Van Ryan, all powerful, beautiful people who could suck you into their bliss laced world, a world where one's secret dreams are felt and nightmares ensue more frequently. The knowledge that his beloved Belinda shared the same blood as cruel and manipulative Kathryn frightened and aroused him at the same time, yet he tried his best to absorb the facts. "What happened to her?"

"Rule number one. Never tell Annette our relationship."

Her blue eyes widened in bewilderment since she'd stopped talking about Belinda minutes ago. Assuming Trevor was one of the eldest Merteuil's fans, she decided to humor him. Her pretty face expressed a sweet, teasing look while she gently shoved him. "Oh, I get it. Does somebody have a crush? I could introduce you, if you want."

He forced himself to laugh, looking unabashedly adorable as he looked into her eyes earnestly. "I don't care about meeting her or not. I'm just surprised, that's all. It's a pretty far fetched thought for Sebastian's stepsister to be related to her. And besides," he continued softly, noticing the indecision flicker through her eyes once again. It seemed to be happening more and more and it stayed longer each time. "I care about you. It just pisses me off to see you wasting yourself on Valmont when you could do so much better, Annette."

Her hand on his groin, blonde curls smelling of sweet scented shampoo, red lips even redder from the wine. He'd gasped, died and gone to heaven at the seduction.

"Make her feel as if you care about no one else."

The sadness that he saw in form of the sweet and pure Annette Hargrove almost made him want to tell her the truth because of its rawness. She was neglected, slowly being unloved while her boyfriend, the one she'd given herself to entirely, fucked his stepsister. The ever elusive and dangerous Kathryn. It always came back to her, didn't it?

Belinda. Supple, succulent, every ripe and red fruit from the most forbidden tree of beauty and sadness. Gray eyes of mischief and a hidden pain he couldn't comprehend. But he wanted to. He wanted to take care of her, to hear her say that she loved him and even though this in itself was an implausible idea, he had to try.

"I just wish things would go back to what they were before." Annette whispered, tears slowly running down her cheeks while he automatically wiped them with his thumbs.

"Do you want me, Trevor? To possess me, to ravish me when and where you want?"

"I know." He said gently.

"Take advantage of her vulnerability."

Belinda's advice, or more specifically, her voice, reverberated in his ears as he leaned in and slowly kissed Annette, surprised that this time, she actually returned the affection. As they tumbled down the bed, her tears moistened his cheeks and he momentarily had a fleeting thought that he was losing himself. Trevor Smith was selling his soul in exchange for that beautiful blonde goddess and he didn't even know it.

"Fuck her. She left you for an asshole, remember? Fuck her hard." There was a twinkle in her eyes as she rode him faster, her arms wrapped around his neck. "Pretend she's me." She whispered teasingly after he'd let out a loud groan.

And so, at the picture of adultery and the corruption of two once pure souls, desire once again laughed in mirth. It's amazing what people do just to be desired in return.

---

Desire has taken another form. This time, it wasn't a desire for sex and love. It was a desire for clarity, sanity and understanding. The woman who laid on the kind sized warm bed in the Valmont townhouse had had sex, and love was a disease that only plagued her. She had no use for it if only to experience hatred and pain.

While Belinda's current toy was now asleep with Annette curled up in his arms and a happy smile on his face at the thought of being with the gray eyed blonde that was the object of his lust and affection again and finally proving that small question at the back of his head if Annette really believed in the sanctity of sex (No. How hypocritical of her to write that manifesto and then proceed to screw a guy she'd only known for a couple of days. Trevor understands, all right.), Belinda's mind was not full of malicious plans against Tiffany and that secret and envy and hatred for Kathryn at the moment as she touched the bandage wrapped around her head. The doctors had insisted she stay at the hospital for further observations but she screamed at the staff and threatened them until they finally relented and let her stay at the Valmont house. Now there she was, restless, her mood worsening and her head aching.

Had she somehow just imagined him? That now graying brown hair, his signature leather gloves, that still, vacant expression that would shift from father to immoral? It was ridiculous, to be frightened of a hallucination. She was twenty four, for fucking sake. She wasn't Belinda Victoria Merteuil anymore, that girl had died a long time ago. As dead as Julian Merteuil… Right?

She sat up at the knock on the door and almost breathed a sigh of relief. It's Mathieu. It had to be.

"Come in."

The thick door opened silently and a shadow crept in the darkness, the silhouette not at all resembling Mathieu De Comte's broad form. This man was angular, his gait older and more distinguished. The kind that could only be brought on by decades of being in power and in control.

"Hello, Belinda." It took to words to cause her head to hurt more, her pulse quicken, and to feel a certain kind of fear she'd only felt as a child.

"You're dead!"

Julian Merteuil stepped out of the darkness and she almost fainted in anxiety. Though his features were still obscured by the shadows of the night, it was him. Dark hair slicked back, large jaw line, green eyes of Kathryn's color and mystery… But it was his voice, sounding eerily familiar and oddly strange that made him real

"Yes, I should be. You had me killed, didn't you?"

His tone, cold as ice and radiating with dangerous warmth. Kathryn got that from him, as well as the sad, secretive eyes of silent ponderings… No, was she going insane? He stood at the foot of her bed, the Ghost of Christmas Past himself, dressed in a deep gray suit and his black leather gloves.

"I'm going mad, aren't I? You're not real." She couldn't bring herself to scream. His presence had the same effect it did when she was a child and he was in her room.

Her father laughed at her confusion, his steps slow as he sat down by her bedside and took out a cigar, grinning as he lit it. The familiar scent of tobacco made her recoil in disgust and she visibly shivered while the leather gloved finger of his cold hand touched her face gently.

"Papa's little Belinda," he whispered. "All grown up."

"What do you want from me?"

"I missed you, my darling girl." There was still a trace of Parisian accent in his reply and she finally had the strength to push him away.

"Fuck you." His words, his touch, his voice, every detail about her father caused her to remember all those nights of self loathing, of incestuous transgressions, and the hatred she'd been keeping burst out of her, "I killed you once, I can do it again."

"Apparently not well enough. I'm still alive, aren't I?" He placed the cigar on the crystal ashtray, easily shrugging off her threat. "Take care of yourself, my sweet Belinda. That was quite a nasty accident the other day."

"GET OUT!" Belinda screeched, throwing the ashtray at him as he left her room.

Minutes later after she'd managed to shatter everything inside, her bandage already soaked through with blood, Kathryn came to her room and had to take a step back when she saw normally put together Belinda looking crazed and disconcerted. She was followed by a bewildered looking albeit sleepy Sebastian, whose blue eyes also widened in surprise at the scene.

"Fuck. What the hell happened in here?"

But Belinda was too enraged to answer his question, "Fils de pute! Salaud!" Son of a bitch! Bastard!

Carefully avoiding the shattered debris, her sister grabbed her shoulders and forced her gray eyes to meet hers. "As-tu perdu la tête?" she asked calmly. Are you out of your mind?

Something about Kathryn's piercing gaze forced her to calm down, the irony of it all was that the same gaze had made her scream and yell earlier. Why, of all things to inherit, did she have to get his eyes?

"Papa." She whispered and once again, Kathryn's mouth fell open.

"Quand?" When?

"As much as I appreciate the fine language of your homeland, I'm too fucking sleepy and irate to translate your conversation, so can you please stop with that?" Sebastian called out wryly, scratching his dark blond hair. True, he had been fluent in several languages, but as of now he really didn't want to have to translate every fucking word. He raised his arms in innocence as Kathryn shot him a glare. "What?"

"Just now. He was here." Belinda thankfully complied, her face was red from the yelling and it really was a disturbing sight to see her wound spill out blood like there was no tomorrow.

Sebastian exchanged a look with Kathryn, who quickly understood. Adjusting Belinda's hastily thrown on robe in a strangely sisterly manner; she tried to tread on the topic gently. Merteuil women are never a good idea to confront. Especially when one is about to accuse them of madness.

"Maybe you imagined this? Something about the accident the other day?" Maybe you're insane? Kathryn thought to herself.

"Imagined it! Imagined it! For fucking sake, Kathryn. Even I wish I was going insane! She pointed to the still lit cigar from the shattered remains of the ashtray, the smoke still dissipating in the air quietly. "You do recognize that, don't you?"

The label made her pale cheeks even paler; she'd know that cigar anywhere. It was their father's and he was in Belinda's room… Unless…

"This isn't your idea of a sick joke, is it?" she demanded, the idea of Belinda scaring the hell out of her just for kicks actually appealed to her more than the actual fact that the lit cigar presented.

She rolled her gray eyes in derision, "Oh sure, I get whacked in the head, see our supposedly dead father staring at me and I happened to have a couple of his favorite cigars, ones you could only buy in Marseilles, where I've never set foot in ages, and just for fun, I decided to light it, place it on the ashtray, scream and cuss until the wound opened, then go on a crazy fucked up trip by fucking everything up in sight just so I could see the look on your face. Get it through your thick head, Kathryn. Like I'd go through all that just to mess with you."

"It's just…" for once, Kathryn was at a loss of words. She refused to believe that he was alive, he couldn't be. Their handsome stepbrother stepped beside her and placed a comforting look on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that Belinda couldn't hear. "The funeral, you did attend it didn't you? You saw him inside the coffin?"

"Yes! I don't know what the fuck is going on! I saw his corpse!" She started to rant again, "Mathieu would know what to do. He has to go back. He has to be here."

"No, he doesn't." Sebastian interrupted, the look of jealousy passing through him as palpable as the feeling of her father's cold finger on her face. "You just need to take a moment and sleep on it."

Belinda glared at him, "You don't know anything, you imbecile. This goes beyond you and your infatuation for Kathryn."

He did not appreciate being talked down to, and he made this point known as he gave her a dark look, scowling. "Sure. The fact that you're a bitch, you're insane, deluded, and possibly might have tossed that lit and I'm guessing not sucked on cigar on the ground just to scare the living hell out of Kathryn really does go beyond me."

"You wouldn't be so protective of her if you knew how much she—"

"Shut up." Kathryn hissed and before Sebastian could realize the gravity of Belinda's words, she changed the topic. "Both of you. Shut the hell up. I'm going to call Mathieu later and he'll be here okay? End of discussion." She turned to him, the tiniest sliver of an apology in her slight smile. "I'll follow you in a while. I need to have a word with Belinda."

"Bitch." She snarled, almost throwing up in disgust as Sebastian walked away.

"You and I share a sordid past." Kathryn spoke calmly yet her voice was clear and icy, "Bonded by the joint disgust for our family and the need for retribution. For that, I respect you; you're my sister, my blood. But understand this: If you ever do that again, if you ever jeopardize or say something like that in front of Sebastian again, I won't hesitate to ram all the pieces of the ashtray you just threw inside that red, bloody cut on your forehead."

Unfuckingbelievable. "He's getting to you, isn't he?"

Her green eyes were once again made of steel walls, unreadable to anybody. Were they hiding something or did they not contain what she thought they did? Green eyes of elusiveness... Such hard windows to look through. "Goodnight, Belinda."

---

The sky was already showing faint signs of light as Kathryn made her way to her room, her mind clouded with disturbing thoughts of the recent revelation and the other part of her thoughts clouded with uncertainty at the possibility of Sebastian knowing her initial intentions for this insanity they both were in. The blue and gold room looked comforting to her and just as she was about to lie down, she nearly jumped in surprise when she realized there was already someone seated on her bed with a scowl of suspicion on his handsome face.

"What Belinda said, what was that about?" he asked evenly, his voice no longer sleepy. He had lost all hope of falling asleep after hearing Belinda's strange reply.

"Nothing." She lied, swallowing thickly. "She's insane. Now would you mind leaving so I can call Mathieu?"

"She said I wouldn't be so protective of you if I knew how much you what?"

The suspicion further consumed him, and even from where she stood, Kathryn could see that the promise of sex wouldn't be able to distract him this time. Sebastian Valmont was the very paradigm of one of those tragic Greek heroes who tempted fate and came out losing, with his attractive physique seated stoically on her blue blankets, intense gaze fully fixed on her, and his chin slightly tilted up as he watched her every move.

Kathryn sighed impatiently, her own pretty features twisting into the same scowl as her apprehensive stepbrother. "She was babbling, Sebastian. Don't mind her."

In a flash, Desire floated from Belinda's room and let itself into the Ice Princess's domicile. It came in the form of the yearning for truth and a preference for lies, depending on which one would hurt less. Sebastian's desire at the very moment was for her to tell him the truth, to stop playing these fucking games and confirm what he wanted her to say. That she'd let it go, she'd let her grudges go, even though hell would most likely freeze over before that actually happened. It had never been in her nature to forgive and forget. In her case, it was most likely to punish and bury alive.

Thus came the preference for lies. He shared this desire with Kathryn, because if they were rebuilding the torn and frayed remnants of their affiliation with each other, they were currently building it on thin ice. It would only be able to hold so much before they became submerged into the frozen hell of cold waters. Annette's warnings, her apparent loneliness and suffering for his lack of attention came back to him, causing him to feel guilty for his behavior and causing him to feel angry at Kathryn for making him feel the things he shouldn't be feeling. Sebastian got off her bed and came toward her, and while any other person would've shrank away at the intimidating, angry look in his blue eyes right now, Kathryn held her ground. She stared at him just as pointedly, just as deeply, and just as angrily, as if she blamed him for her lack of control these past few days.

"Tell me the truth." His voice no longer had the warmth it did when he comforted her the night Julian returned. "Tell me the fucking truth."

"Or you'll what?" she shoved him and he stumbled backwards in surprise but quickly righted himself. "You'll go back to Ms. Teen Magazine? GO AHEAD! I don't need you!"

Letting out a snarl, he grabbed her neck and slammed her against the wall, the engraved panels digging into her back but she didn't allow herself to cry out in pain. Their faces were inches apart and at the close distance, she could see the pieces of hope filling the spaces between his anger, the ones pleading for her to say what they both knew she could say but never really mean.

"This is it, isn't it? It's part of your game. The war you've been waiting to start ever since I chose her."

Her eyes narrowed at the mention of Annette, "Don't you fucking dare say her name." she seethed, struggling in vain to free herself from his grip.

"What did Belinda mean when she said what she said?" his breath felt warm against her lips and her body reacted to Sebastian the way it always did. Despite her anger, she felt her lips part at the sensation of his nearness.

"Nothing." She said again, twisting around for him to loosen his grip.

His profound sea colored eyes penetrated deep into her, the gaze Sebastian was doing similar to hers when she tried to read other people's thoughts. Sebastian had the same trait, and while it usually worked with other people, he never could read her simply because his feelings for her always got in the way. Now was no exception. If Sebastian Valmont didn't feel anything for her, he would've seen the clear and blatant lie in her green eyes. However, his hope, that tiny splinter that burrowed its way into his life when she returned, blinded him once again and he believed her.

"Promise me."

She was silent, her breathing no longer shallow and fast as it had been when she was angry. Kathryn gazed back at him, at her Sebastian, looking so solemn and dangerous at the same time. Her protector and her torturer.

"I do." She whispered, for once the lie she told him tearing through her.

At this, he loosened his grip and buried his face into her soft hair, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Kathryn?" His lips brushed the side of her neck, making her shiver involuntarily. Only Sebastian could altercate from pain and pleasure so fast and still make her react the way she did.

"Hmm?" she murmured, already starting to lose herself as his body pressed into hers.

"If you hurt me, I'll kill you."

"Is that a promise?" she gasped, the gentle way he pulled the straps off her short nightgown and the way his boxers had dropped down the floor as he entered her in one angry thrust driving her into incredible heights of awareness and bliss. He cupped her ass and pulled her while she wrapped her legs around him, their pleasure filled groans filling the room and melting away the tension that was once there.

Yes, Desire had done it again. To bring two people equally cunning, devious, and devilishly gorgeous together was no easy feat, but it was their inherent need, the one tucked away in the area of their blackened hearts as The Unmentionable Thought, that brought them back together. Of course, it was all based on a lie. And lies have a way of surfacing sooner than anybody would ever think… Like a bomb, the red glowing numbers counted down the agonizing remaining time of this pleasure and peace filled world between Kathryn Merteuil and Sebastian Valmont, biding its time, growing stronger as each minute passes.

Even later, at exactly dawn, as Sebastian was sprawled beside her on the ground, looking adorably delicious and unbelievably innocent in that cherubic handsomeness only he possessed, Kathryn was still awake. The phone rang and even before she answered it, she knew it was him.

"How's my lovely seductress?"

"Fine." She said, wishing Sebastian would just keep on sleeping so he wouldn't have to hear her talk to Mathieu.

"I should be back in New York in a couple of days… Business went well. How's Belinda?"

"No. That's not soon enough. Belinda had a concussion the other day, she says Papa's alive. She needs you to come here now… He was just here, Papa went to her room. I saw his favorite cigar on the floor."

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Need me to come back."

"You need me, remember?"

"I don't seem to recall making that statement."

"Well, I do."

"What?"

"Need you."

She paused, but it was enough for him to feel that flicker of apprehension he'd felt when Belinda had called to inform him that things might not go as smoothly as Kathryn had planned. "Mathieu, I—"

Not wanting to delve into this conversation over the phone, he quickly changed the topic. "Kathryn, I need you to know something. Belinda has a history of mental illness… She was confined at the institute when she was fifteen." There was a rustle in the background and his tone changed, "Listen, I can't talk right now. I'll be on the next flight back to New York."

She was about to hang up when she heard his voice speak once more.

"Kathryn?"

"What?"

"Remember your promise..." He paused, "I love you."

"Promise me you won't make the same mistake he did."

"You have nothing to worry about."

---

Lenny Grandsky did not particularly like being appraised by this intimidating, elegant man and had no problem expressing his discomfort.

"Look, man, it's nothing personal, okay? I was hired."

The honey colored irises of the businessman seated in front of Lenny were devoid of any emotion as he surveyed the photos Lenny had been taking ever since he left New York. It featured him at the Methadone Clinic, then it featured him speaking with Court Reynolds, and then there they were. It featured him in a place he didn't want anybody else to know about. The private detective had been hiding out in a rented car when one of Mathieu's bodyguards came up and seized the protesting, sleazy looking man with the mousy persona while he held the incriminating camera and had various surveillance photos of Mathieu. Now, minutes later, after being both fascinated and creeped out at the way his strange eyes somewhat softened while he spoke to someone named Kathryn on the phone, Lenny just wanted to get out and never come back. Mathieu De Comte was a man of anonymity, and the Parisian businessman prided himself for it.

"Are you going to kill me?" Lenny asked timidly, the menacing glares from Mathieu's bodyguards reminding him of the Mafia.

His serious voice shifted as a genuine chuckle escaped his throat, "Kill you? Hardly. I came to offer you five times what your employer is paying you for you to tell me who you're working for and then I'm prepared to pay you ten times the amount of that if you work for me."

Lenny's eyes grew large at the opportunity of an obscene amount of wealth this man was offering him. Before he could remain loyal to his employer, the greed outweighed the other instances he'd been given a job by the same person and he held out his hand. "Deal."

Mathieu smiled, "The name?"

" Blaine Tuttle. That faggot fairy back in Manhattan, you know him?"

A sudden dawn of understanding lit Mathieu's handsome face up, "Of course. But he wasn't your real employer, Lenny."

This piqued his interest, "Oh?"

Mathieu leaned back, the light of the room making the glossy photographs shine. "I believe it's a man named Sebastian Valmont."

He had made a mistake he should've never made. He underestimated Valmont, and though the hiring of a PI to follow him around almost ruined things, he knew he'd learned his lesson. This was spiraling out of control and he had to move fast before he lost her.

A/N: Yes, it is still my midterm week but fortunately I arrived earlier today so I was able to get some writing done. And then after reading your reviews, I became hungry for more. I love you guys for it but I hate you guys because your reviews make me write more. So I posted. Haha.

Annie: He is, isn't he? Even though he's being hated by some people, I think he's damn fine too. More than fine. I made him so hot that he'd melt a girl's panties right off. I know mine would if he were real. Lol. I know Sebastian's the one for Kathryn, so maybe I can have Mathieu after all this. Hahaha. Right. That story would be safely hidden in my computer. Lol. About wanting him and Kathryn to end up together, you and Katie should talk about that.

WashedOut: Don't worry, I won't leave your questions unanswered. Soon you'll know the truth behind the elusive Julian Merteuil. There's so much to write, a lot of new characters to twist, fuck up and mold!

Katie: How do I do it? Good question. Let me know when you find out. Wahehehehe, I still love Mathieu too. About who gets Kathryn in the end, again let me reiterate that I'm currently under suspicion by very loyal K/S shippers and I have no plans of getting angry emails and reviews. But I won't make it so easy. Where's the fun in that?

Keri: Interesting theory… That's all I can say about the Mathieu-Daddy Merteuil-Belinda connection. About their lascivious fornicating father, I'll let you decide for yourself. About the letter, I'll let you know as soon as I finish writing it. I'm halfway done though.

Anonymous: You should've given your name so I could have thanked you properly. Anyway, this'll have to do. THANK YOU. I had actually just finished taking one of my midterms online and I happened to read your review. It made me smile. Seriously. Thanks. I'm glad you liked it.

Kirsty: If you're addicted to reading it, I'm addicting to writing it. A perfect symbiotic relationship. Lol

Sam: The delusional girl herself. See? I even promoted your story at the start of my chapter. That's to get you to UPDATE. Lol

Oh, while we're on the topic of writing (duh) here's a little something you might find amusing. The reason why I began AIE was because I read Keri's Dangerous Liaisons and Sam's Breaking the Broken and I said, "Hey, I should try that." So now here you all are reading about it. Hahaha