Author's Notes: Hello everyone! As you can see, Kenju and me have a new chapter for you all! Before beginning, I only have one major thing to add, an answer to a question some of those reading this might have: Why is this story getting updated while my others aren't? That is a fair question, so allow me to answer it now.

My writing partner Kenju has been an absolute delight for this story! And while this could apply to any number of his contributions, what I am referring to in this case is the fact that he has produced MANY outlines for chapters that I haven't written yet. So I simply need to look at one of his outlines, and then add my own spin as well as some meat to the bones he already provided for me instead of working it out from the ground up. My time and sometimes attention span are limited these days, so its easier and much faster to adapt something that already has an established foundation. Don't worry, I am still working on other stories, but they sadly take me much longer to finish. I'll do my best to reduce this.

Also, due to a shift in opinion from Kenju, flashbacks will no longer be in italics. Don't worry; the indicators for day and time above each section will still easily mark out when we are entering a flashback.

Also also, for a bit of dark humor, enjoy this kind of chapter on Valentine's Day! Lol.

Having said that, let's move onto the twenty-third chapter of "Unbreakable Red Silken Thread": Chance: Buried on Sunday

November 2nd, 2014 (10:00 PM)

"God-fucking-dammit! I should have known that today was going to suck donkey dick!" Gwen muttered to herself, as she stomped down the hallway in an irate daze. She had been pacing from one end to the other for the last ten minutes without rhyme or reason save for venting, and anger blinded her as she continued her furious marching. She couldn't have seen anything or anyone in her way, so it was a small and unnoticed mercy that she was alone. "I should have seen this coming! Heaven forbid the universe give me a freebie! Noooo, instead it bends me over and shoves whatever KY jelly Heather uses to fist her prevy devil rats up my ass!" The embittered Goth had been projecting her fuming rage through the stomping of her boot-clad feet and hissed vitriol for what seemed like ages. "Whatever or whoever runs all of existence must be fighting back a touch-less orgasm!"

After countless tirades and spats of crude profanity laden venom matched only by its lack of connection to logic, Gwen finally had exhausted her reserves of savage sourness. Her body was in a similar state, feeling sullen and drained. She needed to sit, and finding nowhere better she settled for a nearby wall, leaning against it as she slid down until her backside made contact with the cold tile floor.

"It's just not fair, but I guess I should have seen it coming. This whole week has been nothing but utter shit, so why should it end on any other note?" Gwen muttered, softly but sadly. She had burned away her anger, leaving nothing but sorrow in its wake. In that mindset, she pondered, thinking back to how she reached this point. Like most horrible things in life, it started from having hope.

The hope of her and Duncan having an entire day to themselves, like how it used to be. She had wanted this so badly that she had degraded herself to giving him a tit-wash in the public men's bathroom, with the one silver lining of the entire ordeal being no one came in during it. Though it had been a tough pill to swallow, she would gladly do so for a chance to have things the way they had been with Duncan before Heather ruined everything, even if only for a day.

'But no,' Gwen thought with acrimony as she sat in the open tapping the back of her head against the wall, not caring if anyone saw her. 'I wasn't even allowed that much, that mundane, fleeting pleasure.' A sigh escaped her black painted lips, the first of many.

She had been in such high spirits too as she awoke within her prison cell with the big flat screen TV and freaky alien swords mounted on the wall. For once she didn't let the typically negative temperament of her default mood weigh her down. While moving from her shower in the floor bathroom to her and Duncan's dorm room she felt like a raven soaring high in the bright sky, seemingly gliding with each new step. Every minuscule progression forward tugged the corners of her lips into a sincere smile. Fighting to contain her excitement, she swung the door open and all but skipped inside.

However, amid the familiar (though lessened) clutter of her boyfriend's dwelling, she saw something out of the norm that stuck out, and it effectively clipped her wings. The Goth could actually feel her good cheer take a nosedive into a pool of molten lava. Her smile wilted and died, bending under the gravity of epiphany into a blank frown. From that very moment, Gwen knew she wasn't going to get the day she had craved.

The image of Duncan hunched over his desk, typing on his laptop while actually reading from an open book, spoke all the words that needed to be spoken, with the feared finality of Fate itself.

It would prove to be the first blow of the one-two punch that brought Gwen to the floor.

November 2nd, 2014 (8:00 AM)

Gwen slowly approached her boyfriend, her dark eyes taking in the sight disbelievingly as though staring at some lauded circus show freak on display. To see Duncan focusing on his studies was infinitely more puzzling than any bearded lady or dwarf lobsterman. She committed the sight to memory for at least a solid minute before clearing her throat, but Duncan's teal gaze reminded laser-focused on the text, his posture unflinching. Something was very wrong, indeed. While she knew he wasn't dumb as some who watched Total Drama believed, Duncan had never been a very devoted student, which made seeing him sincerely study a rarity but not an impossibility.

"Hey…Dunk, earth to Dunk, come in Dunk." Gwen said, only half-sarcastically.

Finally, Duncan peeled himself away from the page, and looked at his girlfriend with glaring, determined eyes. "I had a ass-load of work due Monday that I completely forgot about. I gotta get it done today." With that and nothing more said, he turned back to the book.

Gwen looked as if a fish had slapped her, her ebony eyes blinked vacantly several times trying and failing to process what he just said. She shook her head from side to side, attempting to dislodge the words from her brain until something clicked. She remembered something; there had been times back when they first started dating where Duncan would pull her leg. After a few more seconds, she couldn't help but chuckle a little. Painful though it was, she forced an awkward smile to be carved onto her ivory face. "Oh…I see. Good one, Duncan! You really had me going there!" she said, waveringly, hoping that this was just some kind of prank before the reward she had been promised.

Duncan didn't respond. The only sound filling the air was the tap-tap-tapping of his fingers striking the keys of his laptop after glancing from the opened book before him.

She realized that Duncan wasn't joking. He was being dead serious. The smile seemingly maintained by piano wire and needles quickly faded into forgotten history. In its place was a more natural and honest countenance, one of shock, revulsion, and seething rage. Within the time of a taken breath, Gwen felt something in her snap as her blood boiled.

"What. The. FUCK!?" she shouted, not caring how loud or raspy her voice may have been. She couldn't even remember the last time she had yelled so loudly at Duncan. It almost felt unnatural, foreign, and alien, but she didn't care. She was too mad. She had placed too much hope on this one expectation. "Why didn't you take care of this before!? Why did you promise that you would—"

"Hey!" he snapped with the strength of a grizzly as he rose to his full, imposing height. Glaring down at his suddenly less vindictive girlfriend, he forcefully added, barking, "It's not like I enjoy spending my entire fucking day doing this kind of crap either!"

Gwen said nothing as she stared up at her bitter beau with wide, uncertain eyes. At that moment, all the fury she had built up fled as if it were rats abandoning a sinking ship. In the silence that followed, the familiar talons of guilt and regret were impaling her placative flesh.

Duncan breathed a few hungry snorts through his ringed nose, as if gathering his thoughts. "Listen," he finally said, with a voice not exactly apologetic but not furious either, "if ya help me out, it will get done faster. If we both work at it, we may be able to do something later today. We'll have more time together then if I'm stuck doing this myself."

Not waiting for an answer, Duncan sat down in the desk's worn cushioned and wheeled chair, while reaching for a nearby wooden seat that had seen better days and placed it on the left side of the dorm's desk space. Gwen looked at the offending thing as if it were an electric chair, still processing all of this.

It wasn't often that Duncan needed her help like this, though she did have to constantly remind him about his assignments or they would never get done. The fact that his grades had improved drastically after she moved in with him had always been something she was rather proud of. Not only because it gave her a sense of accomplishment, but because it proved just how smart he actually was. The problem had never been a matter of him being unable to do his classwork, he just needed someone to push him and keep him focused.

For the last week however...she hadn't been there for him, because of Heather, and now it was the eleventh hour. Needless to say, none of these developments raised Gwen's mood from the depths it had plunged. But she forced the raw emotion out of it, and focused on the pure sensibleness of the situation. As much as she hated to admit it, Duncan's words were overflowing with logic. This stuff needed to get done or his grades would suffer. His grades, which she had pushed up from failure to getting him a scholarship to attend this university. It was what was most important. They would just have to finish it. While by no means happy, Gwen would concede it was the least she could do for not being there in the first place.

"Alright," Gwen agreed, before amending, "But I'm not writing anything for you long hand, I can't forge your handwriting that well." She couldn't help herself from grinning.

Duncan chuckled and smiled at her, acting as if he hadn't been furious mere moments ago, sporting that cocky yet charming grin of his that Gwen could never resist. "No problem, Pasty. I'll take my report if you take care of the weekly assignment and this week's readings along with the notes. I'll even let you use the laptop since I need to write out the report by hand."

Gwen shook her head back and forth. "I still can't believe that you've got a professor who makes you write papers by hand. What does he think this is, the Stone Age?"

"Tell me about it," Duncan agreed, "But to be fair, he might actually be that old, and I doubt he knows how to use a computer."

Gwen and Duncan both laughed like hungry hyenas for a while before they began work.

Despite her best efforts and more cynical mindset, Gwen hoped to somewhat salvage this day. They both continued at full throttle as they copied notes from textbooks, typed up multiple assigned "journal entries" to show Duncan actually read the required material for that week, and hashed out several large reports, including the one that had to be handwritten. At first Gwen had given it her all, believing that if she did they would get done faster, and be able to spend some much needed time together. Her only break came when she got them lunch, which they ate while resuming their academically appointed tasks. It wasn't until several hours after that lunch that the fires fueling Gwen had cooled, and she became numb. It was then, noticing that they had only completed a fraction of the work, that even with her unwavering help this would be an all-nighter. After that, her rate of progress had slowed, the fires fueling her snuffed out, covered in dirt and shit.

The despair that had implanted itself in her was the damage inflicted by the first hit, an intangible punch stretched out over nine hours without losing its soul-crushing force.

November 2nd, 2014 (10:09 PM)

Groaning, Gwen tapped the back of her head against the wall, as if attempting to force herself into sweet unconsciousness while lacking the resolve to fully commit to the idea. She started zoning out though, which she would have taken as a small, but much needed, win.

The whole day had been a wash of Biblical proportions. She had been tired and drained. Once she and Duncan were finally done getting him caught up on his coursework, neither of them felt like doing much else. A quick blowjob was the last thing that happened between them, leaving Gwen with the taste of Duncan's seed on her tongue as she quickly choked down another sandwich dinner from the cafeteria. Her stomach was only partially full, but she didn't want to be out long enough to eat more. Sadly for her, her head was much fuller, to the point of bursting.

Her mind was abuzz with a swarm of brain-bees, buzzing around in her skull, mocking her. Today was supposed to be HER day, her long overdo reward for enduring the week-long hardships of Heather so that her loving boyfriend didn't unjustly go to jail!

She wasn't able to focus on any one particular memory or thought in that savage swarm for long, but together they created a constant bevy with different bees stinging her subconscious. While walking to Heather and Cody's dorm like it were the green mile, she felt the results of the swarms' stings, feeling sour, down, and more than anything, frustrated and hurt.

The only paltry consolation prize was that at least the day was over. Or so she thought…

Within a few paces of the door to the dorm, which was slightly ajar, she heard a chorus of opposing voices. She felt curiosity and relief; the relief came from the fact that none of the voices were Heather's. The Goth knew she wouldn't have been able to handle the Queen Bee's bullshit right now. There were enough bees annoying her, thank you very much!

Having nothing else to do, Gwen decided to look through the crack in the door, and listen to the conversation. In a retrospect as short as a morning shower, she would regret that.

After all, the first fist of Fate had struck her without her input. But she had invited the second.

November 2nd, 2014 (9:43 PM)

From the slit in the door rendered slightly ajar, Gwen could make out several salient details. There was a pizza box at the center of the table that someone was opening, with the cheesy and greasy smell raising and wafting through the pearl white steam of its heat. It was an artery clogging olfactory siren song attempting to goad Gwen's partially empty belly into growling, thus exposing her. Reluctantly she resisted the tantalizing temptation. The rest of the table was cluttered with papers haphazardly piled all about the surface not covered by flat tomato sauce covered dough. But of greatest importance were the figures at the table, three of them sitting with one still standing. Though difficult, by both the narrow line of slight allotted to her and vague memories of seeing them briefly in the halls, Gwen eventually realized who the four people were. They were Cody, Cameron, Brick, and Zoey, who had just taken her seat.

The scene Gwen found upon arriving could have been labeled any number of things. A fight, an argument, a heated debate; a verbal sparing match, an examination of clashing opinions amongst intellectual equals? She settled on 'nerd rage,' given the participants. At the moment it appeared to be a contest of wills between Cody and Zoey.

"What is the big deal, Zoey!?" Cody spat, with usually foreign venom in his tone. "Plenty of people have gone in costumes like this before, and it's never been a problem!"

"Yes, but those people put more thought and work into their costumes than you have," Zoey countered, "and if you go in that, you'll die of heat stroke before the end of the first day! Sorry to be difficult, but there's no way you'd get through the whole thing wearing that."

With a violent finger pointed at the former Bubble Boy, who was mostly out of Gwen's line of sight, Cody shot back, "Cam's isn't any different! And his doesn't have any 'cooling system' in it!"

"Again, yes, but you are missing the point, Cody." Zoey said, borderline grumbled, "Cam's costume isn't made of solid leather with steel plated armor and a full face covering metal mask!"

"But it has a massive helmet!"

"Uh…actually…Cody," Cameron piped in, with a voice that was wavering and low, a stark contrast to the thunderous voices from his two arguing friends, "I—I've got a electric fan that I'm going to put inside of mine to keep me cool. And I'll be keeping the face plate up most of the time."

"And personally, I agree with Zoey," Brick added, speaking for the first time, his voice a balance between commanding and cool, "Leather is hot as hell if you wear too much of it for too long."

Bitter at having all of his friends against him, Cody jeered, "If that's the case, then why are you always wearing your chaps and jacket."

"That's because I ride a bike, and Canada is quite cold, especially when driving at eighty miles pre hour. A big difference from standing inside a heated building," Brick pointed out casually.

Cody deflated, unable to stay mad at the perfectly reasonable counterpoint. For some reason, unknown to Gwen, he released a quick pair of faint chuckles, muttering something about 'being like water' under his breath. Still, he didn't lose all of his irate tone. With only a minor edge to his voice, the Tech Geek asked, "Then what am I supposed to do? I've already bought the material, and I don't have enough time to come up with something else."

"Wait," Cameron spoke up, sounding a little confused, "can't you just buy a premade costume? That's what I was going to do when you first invited me. I've looked and they are all cover the Internet. Some are quite good too."

The Tech Geek deflated further. "Yeah, I've seen them, but I can't do that. I don't have that kind of cash on me, not to blow on a costume I'll only wear once, anyway."

There was a brief silence. Though limited from her vantage point, Gwen noticed that Cody's three friends were all looking at each other with some unspoken and forbidden comment on their lips. Even Brick's body language suddenly became tense and unsure.

Surprising the Goth, it was Zoey who apparently bit the bullet and voiced the dreaded thought. "Uh…why don't you ask Heather for a little cash, Cody? It's not like she would miss a few hundred dollars, right?"

"Sorry Zoe, but I gotta shoot that idea down," Cody commented, before sighing. The last of his fiery passion left him. He sounded dejected. It sounded like he was about to recite a speech he had to repeat more often than preferred. "Just because Heather's parents are millionaires doesn't mean she is. Sure, she might have a lot more money than most, but it's not as much as you'd think given her family…situation. It was certainly less than I had expected. Besides, her dear old dad," the Tech Geek's tone adopted a mocking quality, "has her on a pretty tight financial leash. Hell, she's still on thin ice after how much she spent on our furniture when we moved in here." He paused, before adding, "And she really hates asking him for money, or, talking to him, at all."

More was said, but Gwen had stopped listening. Unlike last time, she knew when the second blow had struck. The exact moment when the Goth felt the universe give her a knockout blow worthy of Muhammad Ali; the moment she heard the word, 'millionaire.'

The buzzing of the bees in her brain had silenced, only to be replaced by something worse. The argument between her and Heather from Friday started to replay itself in her mind like a recording set on a loop. Certain parts were recalled with more stinging clarity than others, echoing with more scolding intensity. None more so than one particular comment, intended to be the mike-drop for Gwen's victory, but ended being the turning point against her.

'Cut the bullshit, Heather. I know what your fucking game is! I know what you're up to! I know that you're fucking with me to get your jollies off, just like you're doing the same with Cody to get his money!'

Numbly, Gwen left the gateway to the dorm, the four occupants never having noticed her.

November 2nd, 2014 (10:15 PM)

Gwen stared out into the hallway, borderline comatose, her mind like roots of an ancient tree, branching off into countless random directions from a singular focal point.

Heather.

One particular large and long-reaching branch of the Goth's mental rhizome was imbedded with the memories of the cruel Queen Bee's conduct during Total Drama. Countless recollections of how the petite Asian was a completely spoiled bitch twisted back and fused with matching memories of her being self-entitled, up tight, and an intolerable snob. In darkly mocking hindsight, it should have been painfully obvious. Heather excreted the mentality of the upper class as apparently as her pores did sweat. Even so, for whatever reason, Gwen never would have thought in a million years Heather was that upper class. But the moment she heard it, she didn't question that Heather was in fact a millionaire, or at least that she was the child of millionaires.

However, this brought up another issue, one that was infinitely more vexing now.

Cody.

In the weeks since she learned that Heather and Cody were together, Gwen had been sure that Heather was just using him, after his money and keeping him under her thumb. Given the Queen Bee's demeanor during Total Drama, it made sense; it was ironclad. However, this newest piece of information caused that comforting assumption to decay with rust.

After all, if Heather's parents already are millionaires, then why was she with Cody? How did they end up together?

Though she usually didn't think in such terms these days, Gwen's struggling mind adopted a philosophical bend as it puzzled over this baneful brain twister. Everything that exists has a specific nature; each entity or construct exists as something in particular and has characteristics that are part of what it is that are fundamental and unchangeable to its being. A is A, red is red, and the sky is the sky. And no matter what she might say, Heather is Heather. She always has been, always will be, and always is…Heather. She would never change. She never did anything without a reason or without something to gain in the end. But if not money, then just what was it Cody had that Heather wanted?

Back on Total Drama, Heather had made 'alliances' with people outside her social class, but always with a reason. Beth and Lindsay to control and manipulate the votes and win, then with Harold and Cody and even Sierra at various times to avoid elimination and make it to the final three. If she was nice to you, you had something she wanted. If she helped you, it was because you had something she needed. It was always that simple.

Keeping up the quasi-intellectual tangent going, the Goth shifted focus to Cody, applying the same logic, figuring out what core aspects of the Tech Geek would be ever eternal. She recalled what she knew about Cody, and what she had seen since moving in. She knew he had money; his family was rich, but far from millionaire caliber. Aside from that all Cody really had that's noteworthy was his brain. As big of a pervert as he might have been, as bad as his stalker tendencies got, and as creeped out as he made her, she never once underestimated his intellect or his knowledge. Hell, the boy made a floating replica of her head using supplies that were meant for building a boat, and he didn't cut any of the wood, just put it together in a different way than intended!

Creepy, stalker-ish, but still undeniably amazing. As an artist, Gwen was used to seeing patterns or designs around her, but even she wouldn't have come up with what he did, using every scrap of material they were given and it coming together perfectly.

She also knew that despite all his bad qualities, Cody had two very good ones, or at least he had back on Total Drama. He was honest. True, he couldn't tell a lie to save his life, but more importantly it was very rare for him to ever lie in the first place. Those few times he had lied were to help someone else, which led to his second good quality, his fierce loyalty. If you were his friend, or he cared about you, he would not, could not, stab you in the back.

That actually brought up a third quality she hadn't thought of or realized before. He was actually a very hard and diligent worker.

Sure, he had been weak, physically at least, but when he put his mind and heart to something he gave one hundred and ten percent. It had been annoying, and…creepy, just how focused he had been on her, and while at the time she found him more bothersome than anything else, she honestly couldn't for the life of her think of anyone else having put as much effort into getting her affections than he had.

Running these thoughts over in her mind, a picture started coming together. The overlapping lines of her mind's rhizome started to become the vivid lines of pigment in a painting. They combined to form a cohesive whole, which could be understood and used.

Heather was Heather, and she never did anything without a reason or something to gain. But, that didn't mean every plot or scheme of hers was to get money, there were other things one could gain of equal or greater value after all.

Cody was kind, considerate, affectionate, smart, hard working, honest, and loyal to a fault. Add to that he came from an upper class family and had filled out rather...nicely over the last few years.

The only things Cody was really lacking were muscles and good looks. That aside, he was close to being the complete package.

Slowly, things started to come into focus. The art piece was starting to emerge from the chaos of the seemingly random patterns. She was starting to obtain better clarity.

Heather lied, cheated, and stole; she fought tooth, claw, and nail to get what she wanted. There was no obstacle or person that she wouldn't overcome or stab in the back if it meant getting what she wanted. Coupled with a ruthless nature and cunning mind, she was a top predator. This wasn't without its drawbacks or shortcomings, however. She remembered the only other person who had ever really been Heather's equal, Alejandro, and how that had turned out.

Trust was something worth its weight in gold when it came to Heather, to be more exact, people she could trust. Between his honest nature and perversions, Cody was both easy to predict and manipulate.

Remembering everything Heather had put up with from Beth and Lindsay back on Total Drama Island, but what she got out of it in return, it wasn't too difficult to see her using Cody's negative traits to get in return his positive ones.

Blinking in thought, it all made sense.

Heather was using Cody, she was manipulating him, but it wasn't to get to his money, it was to get him. But to what ends? She knew they have been together for a few years, but had she been using him for something all this time, or had she used that time to get him under her thumb for something she is planning? That was the trick and the difficult part to figure out. Heather was a planner and a plotter; she played the long game with her eyes on the final reward, not the short-term victories.

All she had to do now was figure out just what Heather was using him for, or what she needed him for.

Gwen was lost in himself, until she heard a loud cracking. She tried to ignore it. But then, right up against her ear she heard a series of sharp snaps. Her eyes turned to see a pair of fingers. Gwen felt like he had been in a deep trance, shaking her head violently to pull herself back to reality. After doing so, she turned to see who the hell was bothering her and her eyes widened in surprise. Partially this was because the person in question was crouched down in front of her, much too close for Gwen's liking. But the main reason was because of who it was.

Jo.

Gwen had never interacted with the RA before, but she knew of her by reputation. She was a hard-ass, no-nonsense bitch who could have given Eva a run for her money. The more cynically minded among the dorm's inhabitants regarded her as the true person in-charge, with Brick more or less just as a figurehead pretending to have equal authority. The Jockette also happened to be at the very top of the short-list of people you didn't want to piss off on campus. Not only could she kick you out of the dorm at a moment's notice, but also she could and likely would probably bring you to the hospital for a full-body cast. Outside of Duncan and that giantess Jasmine, no one else could have hoped to beat her in a fistfight. A spike of trepidation helped bring Gwen out of her thoughts fully, and focused on the tomboy.

The Jockette noticed that she had the sitting Goth's attention. "Yo, basket-case! You alright?" she asked oddly carefully. Her purple pupiled gaze noticed Gwen's face fill with confusion. "I've been tryin' to get your attention for a couple of minutes now. Somethin' up?"

Already not in a good mood, for the countless reason offered by her crappy day, combined with the difficult riddle she was trying to solve, Gwen's gaze turned harsh. "What's your damage?" she said raspy, not bothering to hide her considerable bitterness.

Jo offered up an annoyed expression to rival Gwen's, not in the mood for this kind of bullshit. Then again, Jo rarely was in such a mood to begin with. "I don't know what crawled into your crypt, and honestly I don't give a fuck, Vampira. But I was just walkin' along doing my rounds, when I found ya with your bloated ass on the cold floor in the middle of the night leaning against a wall. Not to mention, ya ain't answering to me calling out your name, Gwen. If it weren't for your pulse being fine, I'd have assumed that you were dead."

The Goth raised an eyebrow at that last part. Looking down, she saw Jo grapping her wrist in her hand with two fingers over her pulse point. Alarmed at not noticing that, Gwen yanked it free.

"Even though you've got the response time of a corpse, I'll ask again," Jo said, "You alright? Do you need any help?"

Still confused but growing annoyed, Gwen started to rise to her feet, only to almost fall over. She didn't realize that until she noticed that Jo had caught her before she could fall.

The Goth pushed herself off the Jockette, standing on her own two feet. "I…I'm fine. I don't need anyone's help. Nothing's wrong." She said, stating it like a memorized mantra. Her eagerness to have Jo leave clashed with her desire to not piss the tomboy off.

Jo's reply was a simple, dismissive snort. That got Gwen's attention, in the worst way. The Goth scowled at the Jockette, wishing to make her displeasure known without crossing any lines. Jo displayed a matching scowl in kind, and Gwen's scowl began to waver. It was taking all of her effort to remain focused on the conversation and yet not lash out. This tension was only increased when the older young woman walked right up to Gwen, and started to take several deep whiffs of the air around her, basically right in front of her face. To Gwen's utter shock, Jo smelled her face like a dog, giving the commonly known but rarely spoken title of "bitch" that Jo had earned more credence.

Before Gwen could comment on her strange behavior, Jo said, as if talking to herself, "You don't smell like weed, or booze, and it doesn't seem like you have a concussion..." She eyed Gwen's arms for a moment, which were covered by her typical long sleeves. "Do I need to check your arms for needle marks?" she asked, in a bluntly frank manner.

Though her face remained the same as before, Gwen inwardly bulked at the presumption. Her patience, already rendered low when this conversation started, was near empty now. Hoping it would end this sooner, she got straight to the point as she asked with finality, "What is your problem, Jo? What do you want?"

Her response was surprising, but just as quick to the point.

"I know this likely doesn't mean jack-shit to a sloppy shit-head waste of space like you, but I take my job seriously," Jo began, "So when I find someone in my dorm acting like they are high as a kite or shit-faced drunk, I make it my business to find out what is going on, and just how far out the door I need to throw them to make it look like an accident."

Sighing, chomping down on her tongue, Gwen said, "I'm not high or drunk. I was just lost in my thoughts, alright?"

Jo snorted, amused by the thought, as if Gwen wasn't capable of such intellectual activities. "And what exactly has you that out of it? Your boyfriend cheating on you? Or has one of your parents finally come out of the closet?"

Gwen, now very annoyed, stated bluntly, "No. I just found that the conniving back stabbing bitch that's been making my life hell is also filthy rich!"

Jo quirked an eyebrow, paused, then asked, "Let me guess. You talking about Heather?"

"I am." Gwen confirmed, not in the mood to beat around the bush.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Anyone who saw her car parked out front knows that. Or anyone who just spends a few minutes listening to her."

The conviction with which the RA said that piqued Gwen's interest. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"All 'rich kids' have a certain way about them. It makes them stick out like a sore thumb when you know what to look for."

There was a brief pause as Gwen pondered over something. It was clear she wasn't going to compel Jo to leave her alone. So why not use this as a chance to do some digging? Why not figure out where the RA fit into the macabre photo collage that was Heather's plans?

Hoping the bluntness would help unloosing the building bitch's tongue, Gwen asked, "Is that why you gave her the tape?"

Jo raised an eyebrow, and folded her arms beneath her breasts. "What tape?" she asked.

"The security tape from outside that Heather is blackmailing me with," Gwen clarified, keeping the volcanic emotion out of her voice. She wanted to gauge Jo's reaction.

The Jockette gave a mostly expressive and non-verbal answer as she looked around every visible angle of the hallway several times, to make sure no one was within possible earshot. Lowering her already commanding voice slightly and narrowing her eyes, she asked point blank, "Just what are you suggesting?"

With just as much directness in her tone, Gwen fired back, "Did Heather bribe you to do it?"

Gwen had expected any number of shocking responses to her inquiry. Laughter wasn't one of them. The Jockette chuckled and nearly howled, holding her hands to her sides. With a mocking smile still on her lips, Jo shook her head. "Wow, she wasn't kidding when she said you were paranoid. Here I thought no one could beat out that zombie head case Shawn, but congratulations Vampira, you get the dorm's section-eight gold medal!"

The Goth bit on her tongue. She was really starting to hate the nickname Jo gave her, partially because she might have liked being called that by someone who didn't make her angry. Instead, she merely quirked a single eyebrow. As expected, that prompted Jo to continue.

"Your itty bitty BFF from way back told me that you might say some shit like that. Good thing too, 'cuz otherwise I might have forgotten my manners and give ya the beating you deserve for suggesting something like that," Jo began, her voice normal and causal, occasional lingering laugh aside, even with the direct threat of violence. "But the answer is no. Heather isn't bribing me. She just asked for a favor, and I agreed since it wasn't too big or difficult to do."

That set Gwen off. Without thinking, she snapped, "How the fuck is giving someone access to security camera footage not a big deal!? Especially since it could cost you your job!"

That got the last of the laughter to leave the Jockette. Jo stared at Gwen, looking perplexed. There was a moment's pause, and then a new wave of laughter came forth. This second volley was even louder than the first, and even more cutting to Gwen as a result. It must have been apparent as after looking at the Goth, Jo forced herself to stop laughing, after a few unsuccessful attempts.

"Heather offered me a exchange for that footage," Jo began, "a favor for a favor, no questions asked." The building's female RA noted that she had Gwen's attention. "I'll admit that shocked me, since the security cameras are on a public server." Gwen looked puzzled. Jo rolled her eyes, even as a dark grin began to tug at her lips. "In English, that means anyone can access them or view them, or the archived footage."

Gwen blanched at that, nearly falling down flat on her ass, reeling from a third fist of Fate. Jo either didn't notice this or didn't care as she resumed as though nothing happened.

"I got Heather owning me a favor now, no questions asked, and for something she could have gotten herself if she had just bothered reading her fucking student handbook. That's what I meant when I said it's easy to pick out rich kids, Vampira. They are so used to everything having a price that they don't even consider that something might be free."

Within a flash, Gwen's reeling mind had a moment of clarity, and a burst of inspiration. Not even being fully aware of what she was doing, with unheard of speed she grabbed Jo by the collar. Not bothering to hide the desperate epiphany exploding within her skull, she asked, "Does that mean that anyone can delete the archived footage!?"

All at once, a rapidly flowing fever-dream of hopes was coursing through Gwen's brain. If the answer was yes, she could delete that footage, save Duncan, and beat Heather's ass!

With even greater speed, and the force of car compactors behind them, Jo's hands pulled Gwen's away. Any leftover sense of mirth or delight had been sandblasted from Jo's face. She was royally pissed off and despite herself Gwen recoiled. It reminded her of Duncan. She leapt like a fish out of water.

"First, don't touch me," Jo growled; her violet eyes hardened into atomic amethyst. "Second, no. That would cost something to get done," there was a moment's pause before she added, "And before you ask, no, I can't do that. It would take someone with system administrator access."

As intense as it had been, Jo pulled her temper back inside and under control, at least enough to make her somewhat civil. Key word being somewhat. Even so, it was enough to notice the Goth's panicked demeanor. She remembered what Heather had revealed about Gwen's situation, and what was on the footage of interest. If only for that reason, despite having no other desire to she offered the Goth an olive branch. She sighed, feeling uncomfortable with this, not use to being nice. "Listen, Vampira, I wouldn't worry about it. Anyone checking the footage for any reason is pretty rare." That got another reaction out of Gwen, shock. The Jockette instantly picked up on the reason why. Not beating around the bush, she added, "Yeah, I saw the footage. I know what happened that night, and what's going on."

Despite her best efforts, Gwen looked gob smacked by that revelation. No longer able to hold onto her attempted bravado and devil may care attitude, she found herself being a floundering mess. The Goth desperately tried to string together a coherent explanation that devolved into several pitiful tangents. She blurted out statements like what happened was taken out of context, Jo didn't have the whole story, that it wasn't a big deal, it was just an argument that got a little out of hand, and that they were both drunk at the time among other things. As she sputtered frenziedly, Jo said nothing. Her face remained as grim and unflappable as stone though she waited until Gwen stopped trying to explain herself to speak.

Jo gave her a look, one that she recognized from Heather, but wasn't exactly sure what it was. "Listen," the Jockette started, "I don't care. It's your life and your choice. I'm not gonna tell ya how to live it. As long as you aren't breaking any of the dorm's rules or making my life harder you do whatever bullshit you want."

Gwen puffed out a bit of tense air, relieved at finally catching a small break. "Thanks." After an entire week of seemingly everything and everyone blowing up in her face, this minuscule amount of indifferent mercy felt like a soothing balm. Against her better judgment, the Goth decided to see if she could get more out of Jo. "Listen, think you could help me out with my actual problem, Heather? It hasn't even been a single fucking week yet and I don't know how much more of this I can take."

That earned her a snort and a chuckle, which ticked Gwen off. She leveled a harsh glare at the tomboy, who was totally unfazed by the ocular assault.

"You want me to help you out? Me?" Jo said, disbelievingly and arrogantly. "You forget, I don't give a shit about you, and I have no reason to help you out," she added casually. "This 'problem' you have doesn't fall under anything I would deal with as a Resident Assistant, and I have no personal reason to help you either since we aren't friends. So unless you can offer me something to make me interested, I have no reason to help you."

Gwen was brought up short by that statement, partly because of the effort it had required to engage in this conversation. Her mind had never fully left its thoughts on Heather. "But—but…but why?" she asked, unable to hide her desperateness. "You seemed so worried about something being wrong a few minutes ago? So why not now?"

"A few minutes ago I could have sworn you said you didn't need anyone's help," Jo pointed out, a sinister sarcastic edge to her voice with an accompanying grin. Then the grin dropped, turning into a neutral frown. "Let me try and explain this for you better." She raised a fist, and for a split second Gwen thought she was going to be punched, but then the Jockette started to count off points with her fingers, a new one raised for each addition. "One, students being drunk outside of their dorm room is my concern. Two, students tripping balls on dorm grounds are my concern. Three, dead bodies in this dorm are my concern. Four, fires in this dorm are my concern. And five, no water or electricity in the dorm is my concern." Jo lowered her hand, with all five digits having been extended. She stared more deeply into Gwen, making sure that her meaning was impossible to miss. "Students who got themselves into shit because they fucked up are not my concern, unless they got into shit because they fucked with me, then it might be my concern but not as an RA. You've made this mess, so now it's your problem. Deal with it. If things are too tough for you, then you can go home and cry to your mommy, because she might give two shits and a flying fuck."

Jo paused and looked at Gwen, who was now absolutely livid. The Jockette didn't know that what fueled the fire flashing in the Goth's coal black eyes was the further conformation that everyone was against her, and that Heather had manipulated everyone against her. But even if she had known that, it wouldn't have changed her stance in the slightest. "It's nothing personal, sweetheart," Jo said, "it's just how things are. Heather can be a bitch at times, but she isn't exactly a problem. And I have no intention of getting involved in something of Heather's unless I have to."

Doubling down on her anger, Gwen tersely asked, "Why is that? Because she scares you?"

Jo chuckled again, with it sounding not as vicious as before, though Gwen was tone-deaf to that detail. "No, I ain't scared of the Short Stuff Power Puff, but I'm pretty sure you are." Gwen blanched at that. Jo ignored it. "If ya have to know, I've got three reasons for not getting involved with this. First, it's not my problem. Second, Heather's my friend. And third, the last time I butted heads with her I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover I've ever had."

She said no more as she left the stunned Goth with the worst thing possible at that moment, her own thoughts. Leaving Gwen in a Hell of her own making, Jo indifferently turned and started to walk away. She didn't want to get close to this; she had to remain unattached to this horror show because she knew getting involved would just drag her down again. This wasn't the first abusive relationship that had cropped up under her watch, but she didn't want that, not for herself or for Brick. They both deserved far better than getting tangled up in that kind of barbwire tornado a second time. There was nothing that could save Gwen and she had already wasted enough time on such a lost cause.

If Heather wanted to shove her hands down into a hamburger grinder that was her choice.

Better she learn her first year and get it over with.

She nearly flinched when she heard Gwen call out, shouting to be heard, "How on earth did dealing with Heather give you a hangover!?"

Not breaking stride, not returning to the thing she was determined to keep distance from, Jo shot back, with her cocky swagger effectively masking more human and harmful emotions, "How do you think we ended up being friends?"

Gwen was soon left alone in that hallway, left alone with her thoughts. She felt a cold chill and almost longed for the hated covers of her bed in Heather's prison cell. But she remained where she stood, unable to admit that, to act on it. Instead, she remained cold.

She remained in the hallway, remained where she had placed herself.

A Hell of her own making.

And that was the latest chapter! As always, we both hope you enjoyed it!

Ya know how Gwen was talking about "fighting back touch-less orgasms" at the chapter's start? Well, being honest, I'm doing the same right now because…THE HELL WEEK ARC IS FINALLY DONE! YAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY! Lol

But seriously, as much as these chapters were needed to fully establish Gwen, her situation, and not have that dominating the whole story, they were difficult to write at times. Don't worry, this wasn't in vain. Gwen's development is a big part of this story, and we are now at the starting point. Gwen is just barely starting to crawl her way towards the edge of enlightenment. As you saw for yourselves Gwen IS back now, she's 'awake' and thinking, able to put together facts and observations with clarity...if not hampered by her conclusions being colored by her personal bias.

Also, this chapter was the final nail in the coffin to establish what Duncan is like. His conduct here, combined with the previous chapter's tells you a lot about his relationship with Gwen, and offers some insight as to how Gwen became this way.

By the way, fun fact, that moment with Jo expressing sorrow (even if only to herself) was a last minute invention. I dunno why, I just felt like that scene needed something more at the end. Anyway, what did you think of that development?

Oh, and does anyone have any guesses as to what Cody, Zoey, Brick, and Cameron were getting ready for?

I sincerely apologize for how long the Hell Week arc has taken, and how Gwen has pretty much taken control of this story for like ten chapters. To make up for that, here's a sneak peak of the next "story arc" of the story, which will focus on Cody and Heather: The Strip Club arc! Lol. You interested? ;)

Until the next chapter, please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word!