LadyOfThieves – You alcoholic you. Yeah, it was definitely surreal, but I liked my little anonymous hustler – he was kinda interesting to write. You still on for the 17th? Now, don't get too drunk between now and then – save some for me! I've got a bunch of Evanescence stuff, some copied from other albums – do you want me to email them to you? Talk to you soon, remember to go to the AA meeting! (joke…)

Lilsara723 – Yay! Thank you! Your review totally brightened up an otherwise crappy day. And I love those themes. They're totally going in here – probably around chapter 10 or something. Thanks for reviewing!

Beena-Pani – Yay! I'm so glad you found this story – your reviews were so helpful when I was writing Understanding. Unfortunately, I don't start holidays until April. And I'm meant to be revising then…bah, screw that, I'd rather write! Anyway, catch up on your sleep (I know the feeling – I'm meant to be turning out five A3 pages of art work a week in the run up to my exam, and so that's meant compromising on sleeping. Fun…), and I look forward to hearing from you again soon!

Okay, and after the great surrealness that was the last chapter, here is some less surreal MikeScott fluff. Well, all MOPI stuff is surreal to some degree, but this is less so than last chapter.

By the way, to anyone who has read Understanding, I've planned out a sequel, called Conviction and will hopefully start writing it soon. It's going to be a trilogy, so I've even got a third part planned. Wow. I've never really gotten as far as a trilogy before…

Also, I realised last night we are entering the 15th year of MOPI, since it came out in 1991. I was a little over two when it came out – according to the IMDb, it came out on the 18th October 1991, so I would have been two and sixteen days old. Weird, huh? Just out of interest, how did everyone find out about the movie – I know about you, LadyOfThieves, I leant it to you!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter IV: Pain

et verbis favet ipsa suis egressaque silva,

ibat, ut iniceret sperato bracchia collo.

ille fugit fugiensque 'manus complexibus aufer;

ante' ait 'emoriar, quam sit tibi copia nostri.'

retullit illa nihil nisi 'sit tibi copia nostri.'

And she herself is as good as her words and, having come out of the woods

She went up to him to throw her arms around the neck she hoped for.

But he runs away, and fleeing says, 'Take your hands away! Don't embrace me!

May I die before you enjoy me.'

She said nothing in reply except, 'May you enjoy me.'

Echo and Narcissus - Ovid

It's like a knife in my heart. And he's twisting the blade. I can feel it, hot red blood, falling from my chest, pulling me down. And the man inside the hood laughs, and as long as he laughs, it doesn't fucking stop. He laughs and I hate it. I don't want my fucking life to end with the sound of his laughter. The hooded man moves, and I catch a glimpse of his face. I know that expression. I can picture it in my mind, and every time I've seen it before. I need to see his face properly. I want to run over to him and rip his hood off, but it all hurts too much. I can feel it, the blade in my chest, twisting, and every other muscle in my body singing in pain. I press my hands to my chest, trying to keep the blood in. I can taste it in my mouth, sharp on my tongue, but familiar, like eating a food you used to have when you were a kid. And I don't have that whole 'life flashing before your eyes' crap. I just see him. The man in the hood. I know who he is. And I want to hate him, to loathe him, to curse him with my dying breath. But I can't. Because I know who's behind the hood.

Scott Favor killed me. Scott Favor cut my fucking heart out. I look up and see inside the hood. I see his eyes, shining darkly. And I know he's smiling that vintage Scott grin, the one that means that some bastard's got screwed over. Me. I'm dying and this is the last thing I'll ever see…

"Mike? Wake up Mike."

I open my eyes, and the first thing I see is Scott's dark eyes, loaming over me, and I could feel my fingers twitching.

"Mike man, you were dreaming," I hear Scott say, but it takes a few seconds before all this makes sense. Even then, I don't believe I was dreaming. You don't taste your own blood in dreams, or feel a knife blade beneath your skin. Not even me, and I've had some fucked up dreams. I didn't fucking believe it.

Or maybe I didn't want to believe it.

"I'm okay man," I say to Scott. "Go back to sleep." We are underneath a bridge. A friend of a friend sleeps here and we sort of hijacked it. That is, Scott did. I wouldn't have had the guts. I just went along with it. But at least it was dry and sheltered, though it wasn't all that comfortable.

I hear Scott settling back down to sleep, but I don't. My fingers pick at the earth out of habit, as a distraction, a mindless endeavour so that my mind can shut off. I don't want to think, but I do.

I knew all along that it was Scott beneath the hood. I knew he stabbed me. And I really, really wanted to hate him, even in the dream. But I didn't. I couldn't. Because I don't and can't while I'm awake.

God, I fucking love him.

And every night I get stabbed in my sleep, as a reminder of how much it hurts when someone doesn't love you back.

And I can't ever tell him, because I know that he would reject me. And I'm scared of that pain. I can't I can't I can't…so I live in this pain. There's no way out now.

I'm dying every night, and I'll always wake up the next day. Ready to disguise feelings and hide behind a mask, so that no-one will ever know.

I rub my hand rhythmically over my ribcage, my breastbone, the closest I can get to my heart without ripping it out of my chest. I rub it soothingly, like my mom rubbed my back peacefully when I was scared or in pain. Now I'm in the worst kind of pain, and I don't know how to make it end. I only know what will make it go away.

Scott…

Ah, so sad…not really sad, but I couldn't think how else to end it. Please review!