Stress

(Day 71: Sunday Evening)

Doug sighs as he sees the time on his watch, before he stands from his seat and walks over to him, "Ben." He halts and slightly widens his eyes in surprise, before he takes a few more steps and leans his head down, "Ben?" His eyes are shut, and when Doug glances down he sees the phone had turned to black. He takes a few more steps and carefully takes it from his hand, slipping it into his pocket before shaking Ben on the shoulder, "Hey." He makes a noise in his sleep, slightly changing his position and rubbing his head against the pillow. Doug shakes him again but speaks a little louder this time, "Ben. Hey. It's time to wake up."

Ben cracks his eyes open; however, it's not a moment later that they fully widen and he gasps, sitting straight up and pushing the hair from his face, "What time is it." Doug opens his mouth to say it, but before he can Ben sees the digital watch around his wrist. Ben lets out a slight breath of relief, "Good. There's still time." before he notices the unfinished can of soda and gulps down the rest of it.

"You just woke up," Doug complains. "You're really drinking that?"

"I was just finishing it," Ben furrows his brows in comment, before he stands from the bed and goes over to the fridge.

He watches him pull another soda out, "And now you're having another one."

"The other one was little stale." Ben reasons, "I need something to wash it down with."

"And you couldn't have that flavored water of yours?" Ben opts to take another drink instead of commenting, and Doug slightly shakes his head, "You shouldn't be having that."

Ben lifts up a finger, "Don't test me." before he lowers his arm and takes another drink. "I have a dinner with my father, and—" He glances at his watch, "I only have ten minutes to get ready." He finishes off the soda, tosses the crunched can in with the others, and then heads to the dresser to rummage through the clothes.

Doug watches him for a minute, "How are you feeling?"

"What do you mean, how I'm feeling?" Ben irritably questions.

"You weren't feeling well earlier," he informs. "Okay? You had a high fever, you weren't making any sense at all…" He shakes his head at the absurdity, "And you kept talking about how there was this clock that was going to help you save some girl."

"Huh," Ben comments. "That's a weird thing for me to say." He piles the clothes into his arms, "Doesn't even make any sense."

"Great. So, you're better, then?" Doug cautiously questions, but as Ben enters the bathroom and shuts the door there's no response. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"

"How am I supposed to tell you? I don't even remember it."

"Okay," Doug accepts. "But it's your mind." He takes a moment to think, "Maybe you were worried about something, like some girl getting hurt… is there any girl that you're afraid could die somehow?"

Ben opens the bathroom door, "Look. I'm not in the business of recuing damsels." before he turns and puts toothpaste on his toothbrush. "It's the twenty-first century. They can do that themselves."

Doug is quiet as he watches Ben bring it to his mouth, "You just drank a soda. The acid will make it so it's like you're practically brushing your enamel off."

Ben spits it out, "Haven't had any issues yet." before he cleans the brush under the running water. "And anyway, if there was a girl who needed saving…" He turns to Doug, "Don't you think I would have mentioned it when I wasn't completely out of my mind?"

"It happened for a reason," Doug frowns.

"Yeah." Ben steps past him, "It happened because my fever caused me to become delusional." He takes the tic-tac case from his pocket to check the amount left, "Never actually happened to me before, surprisingly considering how much brain damage a high fever can do, but there's a first time for everything."

He watches him re-pocket the case, "Okay, yes. But there still has to be a reason why that was specifically what you came up with." Ben gives him a look. "Just think about it for a minute. You said that he was going to kill her, whoever he and she were, and you really wanted me to help you find the clock. You said that he could help you… well, help her."

"He?" Ben leans forward in question. "The clock was a he?"

Doug lets out a loud breath, "That's what you said."

Ben smiles and then slightly nods, before he lifts up a hand, "Now, that makes sense."

"It does?"

"Yeah." Ben looks around the room, "I think I know who he is." before he goes back over to his bedside table and moves some of the items into his pocket.

"So, who is he?" Doug prompts.

Ben turns around and questions, "Where's my phone?" before he sees the textbook on the table and walks over to it.

After Doug sees Ben open the book and take his phone out from it, Ben faces him again and Doug questions, "Who's the guy, Ben?"

"Oh," Ben half laughs. "He's the clock."

"The clock," Doug repeats.

"Yeah. My father used to have a clock that worked for him back when he was the beast." He turns back to the table, placing a notebook inside of the textbook and then shutting it again. "His name was Clocksworth."

"Clocksworth?" Doug slowly responds.

Ben looks back at him, shifting his eyes for a moment, "That doesn't sound right, does it?" before he hums. "Keep in mind, I was about," he lifts a shoulder, "six when I was told all of that." He looks off again, "Or most of it anyway." He eyes the room again, "It's completely possible that I just heard his name as Clocksworth, because he was a clock at the time. I should probably ask my parents." He smiles again and lifts up a hand, "But I won't." before he moves away from Doug.

"Why not?"

"Because," Ben states matter-of-factly, "questions are bad."

"Okay." Doug rushes over and stands in front of the mini fridge, "You know what's bad for you? That soda." He glares at him, "Tell me that you're getting yourself one of your waters."

Ben stares at him a moment, frowning, before he says, "I'm stressed. I want a soda."

"You already had two," Doug sternly addresses. "You don't need another." Ben glowers at him. "Just tell me, do you still need me to help you find this clock or Clocksworth or whoever the guy is?"

"Why would I need you to do that?"

"So that girl doesn't get killed," Doug loudly reminds him.

"What girl?" Ben exasperates.

Before Ben can continue Doug counters, "I don't know. What girl could your father's former employee possibly help you to save?"

Ben's expression softens, before he shakes his head, "I don't have time for this." and makes his way to the door; however, as he stands in front of it he can feel the silence weigh on him. "I know what you're thinking." He turns around and waits for Doug to admit to it.

He steps forward, "She never leaves the castle, Ben. Why do you think that is?" and he takes advantage of Ben's quietness. "Admit it. She's afraid to leave. She's afraid of him."

"No, she isn't," Ben nearly shouts. "She's afraid of the rumors and conspiracies she's confronted with every single time she leaves the safety and comfort of home." Doug silences, and Ben can feel his face warm as tears intrude his eyes. "My parents love each other." He takes a step towards him, "My father would never hurt her. You don't hurt the people you love."

"Ben," Doug softly speaks, before he eyes the ground for a second. "Look. I—" He makes a noise and takes a small step forward, "I didn't mean to imply that they didn't or that he would. It's just…" He sees the hurt in Ben's expression, "There must be a reason why you were so desperate to find the clock to save that girl from being killed." He pauses, "Is it possible that you're afraid that your mother could get hurt, even if you know it could never happen?"

Ben wets his lips, "I think that delusions are thoughts or beliefs that aren't real and that they are a known uncommon symptom of a high fever, and so it was bound to happen to me eventually." He looks at him for a moment, "It wasn't real. If I were anyone else— had I said anything else— you would have believed that." He sees Doug about to speak, "You can't tell me that you didn't write me off as crazy and blame the fever too, or else you would have called someone, they would have been here, and I wouldn't even be attending dinner right now."

Doug's quiet for a second, "I'm not the one who was able to figure out that the clock was a real person." There's a knock at the door and Ben stares towards it for a minute, before Doug calmly comments, "You should get it."

Ben glances towards Doug and then back towards the door, before he goes over to crack it open and his mouth slightly gapes, "Mal." He quickly shuts it to undo the chain and then fully opens it. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Sunday," she frowns in response.

"Right," Ben sighs and shuts eyes, before he gestures from her to the dorm. "Why don't you come in?" He sees that look in her eyes, the one of guilt and fear and just general uneasiness.

She glances at Doug before staring up at Ben, "What's going on?"

"Look." Ben lifts an arm and then closes his hand, "I'm not entirely sure if you should come to dinner tonight."

Mal uncomfortably laughs through her pained grin, "Okay. I know I was really horrible to you the other night, but I don't hate you. Ben, you need to know that."

"I know," he frowns in response.

"Because," Mal quickly interjects, but it's hard for her to continue. "I don't hate you. I really like you, and what happened." She breathes, "I'm so sorry."

"Mal. It's okay." He places one hand on her arm and wipes her newly fallen tears with the other, "This has nothing to do with that."

"Then, why?" she intensely questions.

Ben lets go of her, eyeing the dark carpet for a mere second, "It's just—" and then he folds his hands together. "My father wasn't feeling very well earlier." He wets his lips, "I just don't want to cause him any more stress."

"And I'm stressful," Mal insecurely responds.

"Not you specifically." Ben sighs again, "He just doesn't really like that we're together, and with the trial and everything…" Mal shakes her head as she scratches her forehead with her light blue nails. "I'm just concerned with the impact it may have on him."

She looks away from him "I understand."

"No." Ben lifts her chin back up and looks into her eyes, "This has nothing to do with you. It's not your fault."

"How can I believe that?" she tenses. "After all of the horrible things I've done and then to you, and we haven't spoken all week, and now—" She shakes her head.

"Mal," Ben begins.

"It's got to be my fault," she insists. "I mean, what else…"

He watches her shake her head again, and then he places his hands on her shoulders, "Look. If it's this important to you, then you can come to dinner with me."

"Really?" Mal disbelieves.

"Yeah." Ben tries to reason, "Father should be feeling better by now anyway, and Mom will probably just ask where you are." He lets his hands fall and then squeezes them together, "It's completely possible that they may ask you some questions."

"I want to go," Mal insists.

Ben nods, "Okay, then." before he hesitates. "But let's try to make it a nice, quiet dinner, okay?" and then he makes a noise. "If my father still isn't well—" He looks pointedly at her, "I don't want to be confrontational or to, uh." He looks away for a second, "Or to stress him out."

It takes a moment for Mal to respond, "You think I'm confrontational."

"Not so much confrontational as just… outspoken." When their eyes meet he continues, "There's nothing wrong with it. It's just that my dad— He gets stressed easily, and it really isn't any good for him."

Mal slightly nods, "Yeah. Okay."

Ben attempts to smile, "Thank you." but before she speaks he points to the door. "We should go or we'll be late."

"What are you thinking about?" Mal questions.

"Huh?" Ben looks at her.

"You're thinking." She frowns, "It's not about me, is it?"

He tries to smile, "No. It's not you. It's—" Ben glances over the car's interior, "My father was getting stressed about the tuition before, and I just get the feeling that whether I pay for it or not it would still upset him." He thinks aloud, "Probably more so if I did pay, since he told me not to worry about it after he complained."

"The tuition?" Mal questions. "What's tuition?"

Ben almost laughs, "It's money that goes towards an individual's education. Auradon Prep is a private school, so there is some tuition." He notices her nervous expression, "But you don't need to worry about it. Technically speaking, you're all here on scholarship."

"Scholarship meaning that it's free?" she inquires.

"Correct."

She shifts her eyes, "What about Doug? He doesn't look that rich either."

"Because, he's not," Ben glances down. "Doug's on a scholarship too."

"For what?"

He shifts uncomfortably on the leather seat, turning more towards her, "Doug's the son of Dopy, as you probably already know."

"One of the seven dwarves," Mal remembers.

"Yes, well, the dwarves," Ben uneasily comments. "They were once part of a tribe that roamed the Black Forest, but with settlers and explorers and all that… You know."

"Know?"

Ben speedily answers, "Well, you know, genocide and all that." before he makes a noise and turns away from her shocked expression. "After my parents united that kingdoms Snow White informed them about the remaining family of the tribe, and it was decided that a piece of land would be put aside for them so that they could feel safe." It takes him a moment to continue, "In return, my father insisted they… that they pay for the land by mining for the country. And, um, they get a scholarship to better their education and all that."

Mal sees Ben gulp, "You don't seem very comfortable with your father's decision."

"Because, I'm not," he frowns. "That land was theirs to begin with, and now we expect them to mine for it like— like slaves?" He shakes his head, "We should at least be paying them better, but Father—" He looks back at Mal, "He thinks that we've already done more than help their community."

"How could he think that?" Mal questions.

"Because," Ben answers, "if it weren't for him, then they would still be hiding out in the woods waiting for another attack rather than living in a legally protected area that consists of more land than they could have ever dreamed of." He glances down, "Or so he says." The door opens and Ben gets out, "Thank you, Travis." before he offers his hand to Mal, she takes it, and they walk up the stone path to the front door.

"So, Mal," Belle smiles, "how has life been treating you now that you're free?"

Mal looks down at the white plate, "It's been…" She glances at Ben before attempting to smile at his mother, "I'm just glad to be free."

"And you've been…" Adam makes a circular motion with his hand, "You know, complying with the court's demands?"

"Uh, yes," Mal looks down for a second, before she nods with reassurance, "I've been attending the classes, and I have a therapy session tomorrow."

"What about those temperature logs?" Belle worries. "Have you kept up on those?"

"Yeah, actually." Mal eyes the table, "Evie reminded me about it the day I got out." before she attempts to smile at her again. "Better to be careful than sorry, right?"

"Very much so," Belle smiles in agreement.

"So," Ben interrupts, "is it okay to dish up or are we still waiting?"

"No. It's fine," she answers, and when Ben starts to place some of the pasta onto his plate his mother continues, "You were a little late, you know."

Ben stops to look at her, "Yeah. I know." and he makes a noise before glancing down for a second. "I didn't feel very well earlier." He frowns, "I slept it off, and the time escaped me."

"You're not getting sick again?" his mother fears.

"No. I don't think so." Ben slightly smiles, "It's probably just…" He was going to say stressful, but as he eyes his father he knows that would only further prove how he clearly can't handle the strife of being king. He shifts his eyes back to his mother, "You know, the usual."

She lets out a breath of relief, "Thank goodness. You had me worried there."

"Worried?" Mal questions, but when Ben turns to her she sighs and slowly comments, "Not that it's any of my business."

Ben looks between his parents, noticing his mother's unsureness and his father's caution, before he turns back to Mal, "She just means that I wouldn't be able to do my job if I got sick."

"Oh," Mal uneasily laughs. "Of course." They continue to look at her, so she hurriedly goes to dish up the pasta, "This looks so good. What is it?"

"That is beef ragu," Belle informs. "It's basically just noodles, a beef sauce, carrots and celery, and garlic— of course."

"Mrs. Potts is so good at making it," Adam compliments.

"Yes," Belle agrees, before she puts some onto her own plate. "It must be the wine. She doesn't use those salted ones most people do."

Ben sees Mal with a spoon halfway towards her mouth and stops her, placing his hand over her wrist, before he turns back to his mother in shock, "It has wine in it?"

"Many traditional dishes do," she informs.

He lets go of Mal and furrows his brows, "I've been eating this since I was a kid."

His mother smiles, "Honey, most of it evaporates by the end of the cooking process. There's no way it would have affected the development process of you or any child."

"It's not about the development process," Ben's voice raises.

"Then what?" his mother patiently inquires.

Ben makes a noise, letting out a breath before finally saying, "You should have told me."

"Should have told you?" his mother questions. "Why? It's not of any importance." He shakes his head and then goes to scrape his serving back into the commune bowl. She almost laughs, "What are you doing?"

"I just think it's ridiculous to have wine in food," Ben blatantly answers, before he takes Mal's plate and scrapes the pasta off of it as well.

"Ben." His mother tries to reason. "Don't you think this is just a little too childish for you?" before she gestures to Mal. "Let the poor girl eat."

"She can have the beef roast," he immediately responds, and then he nods once in thought. "Dragons are carnivores, aren't they?" He turns towards Mal, "It would probably be better for you anyway."

It takes a moment for Mal the say, "I guess." before she looks at Belle.

Adam firmly comments, "Mrs. Potts made us this dinner. I expect you to respect her great cooking and eat it."

Ben narrows his eyes at him, "I am eating it." He goes to take a few cuts of the roast and then bites into a slice, "See. I'm eating it."

His father sits up straighter and points a finger down at the table, "This is my castle, and when you're here you will do as I say." Ben's mother turns towards his father, but although it looks like she may say something, she says nothing. "Now. I suggest you drop this attitude, get yourself under control, and eat what's been served."

Ben widens his eyes, "Get myself under control."

"Yes."

"You're telling me to get myself under control?" Ben exasperates. "After you just showed up at my school the way you did?"

Mal watches as Belle turns to her husband and asks something in French, before Adam slowly makes an incomprehensible statement and Belle gives him a look of disbelief. She seems to ask something, Adam unwilling to answer, before she turns to Ben and asks the same thing. Mal watches Ben make a noise, before he wets his lips. He's making an excuse, or something is wrong. It's something, but as the conversation paces faster she realizes she has absolutely no idea what could really be going on. Belle and Adam argue back-and-forth, before he quiets, rests for a moment, and then stands from his seat. He looks at Mal for a moment, as though he thinks he should say something, but he quickly decides against it and turns to stride out of the room. Mal watches Ben glance over his shoulder as his father leaves, before he turns back to his mother and comments, "You shouldn't have done that."

"Honey," she begins.

"He's going to blame me," Ben interrupts. "He's going to think this is my fault."

She lets out a small breath, "Ben. He can't blame this on you." before she reaches for his hand. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Ben pulls away, "I told you about something that he thought we had solved ourselves."

"It's not your fault he left the castle when he was unwell," his mother counters.

"It doesn't matter." Ben glances down for moment, "He will find a way to blame me." before he looks into her eyes. "He always does. It's all my fault. Everything. All the time."

She shakes her head and briefly shuts her eyes, "That's not true."

Ben's quiet for a second, "No. Of course, it isn't."

Mal watches them stare at each other for another minute, before she asks, "What was all of that?" Ben looks at her. "I don't speak French," she slowly says.

"Right." It takes a moment for him to answer, glancing down as he does so, "It's nothing, really. My father just… I told you how stress affects him." She observes him intently. "Well, uh, he isn't supposed to leave the castle when he doesn't feel well." Ben pauses, "And he came to, uh, check on me earlier, and he wasn't well. I just told my mother that he broke that rule, and because he didn't feel well earlier she suggested that he shouldn't be eating with us now."

"And because you told your mother," Mal slowly questions, "that's why your father would blame you?" She gives an unsure look, "Is because you told?"

"He's just stubborn," Ben excuses. "He's always just trying to do the best he can, you know… so when something goes wrong he has a hard time blaming himself." Mal doesn't speak, so he eyes over the table, "Where's the catchup?"

"The catchup?" his mother asks.

"For the roast," Ben softly responds. "It's always drier than I would like."

"Of course," she remembers. "I'll go get it for you."

"Thank you."

After Belle exits to the kitchen Mal comments, "You know, don't you?" He looks at her again. "You know about the… the…"

"I think so," Ben answers. He sees her eyes glisten as she nervously smiles. "Hey." He takes her hand, "It's okay."

"I am so much more trouble than I'm worth," she sadly laughs.

His frown deepens, "We all have baggage, Mal." He quiets for a moment, "Some worse than others?"

"What do you mean?"

Ben opens his mouth to speak, but just as he finds the courage to say the first syllable his mother comes back in and sets the catchup next to him, "Here you go."

It takes Ben a second to say, "Thank you." before he shakes the bottle and squeezes some onto his plate.

"I just remembered," his mother sits in her seat. "Audrey has invited us to dinner for Saturday night."

"What?" Ben questions.

"All of us," she informs. "Something about past transgressions and forgiveness and all that." She takes a bite of the pasta, "Mal. Your attendance is required, obviously."

Ben hesitates, "Is Father coming?"

His mother smiles, "Everyone is coming."

"Of course," he frowns before mumbling, "I should have known."

Mal asks, "Is there a dress requirement?"

"I don't think a dress will be required," Belle informs.

Ben nearly smiles, "Mother. I don't think she meant literally."

"Oh," she laughs off her mistake. "Silly me. Ah, yes. Try a casual formal look."

He sees Mal's confusion, "She means to dress in something that is casual but that looks nice enough where you wouldn't wear it for just anything." before he raises an eyebrow and lifts a hand. "One of those outfits you wear on our dates, for instance."

Mal shifts her eyes, "Just drop the leather."

Ben frowns, and it takes a minute for him to comment, "I don't care if you wear the leather or not. With everything Audrey put you though…" He slightly shakes his head, "You don't need her approval, okay? Just be who you are."

Mal looks away for a second, "Who I am got me in jail."

"Mal," he begins to excuse.

"You can say it wasn't me," Mal interrupts, "but doesn't it scare you? Doesn't it scare you to know how far I can go if I'm desperate enough to do it?"

Ben slightly shakes his head and softly comments, "No. It doesn't."

"It's scares me," Mal admits, and she eyes the empty plate before continuing, "I mean, what's stopping me? What's stopping me from becoming just like her? Like my mom?"

"Me," Ben answers. "You have me." He sees her disbelief, "You have me, and Evie, and all of the people you care about and who care about you."

She looks at him, "You could never stop me. You know that." and she pauses to gauge his expression. "If I wanted to destroy the kingdom, pit the citizens against each other, and eat those who rise up against me, I could. I could, and you wouldn't be able to stop me."

"No. I couldn't," Ben accepts, "but only because I love you. I love you, and I would never want to hurt you." He sees the tears intrude her eyes as her breathing becomes unsteady, "You don't scare me, Mal. We've gone over all of this before." He pauses, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. "You hear me? You don't scare me. I'm not going anywhere."

She gulps, "Maybe you should be." and a couple tears fall. "Your father's right. You shouldn't date me. I could destroy everything for you."

It takes a minute for him to say, "There's nothing to destroy." before he moves the stray hair from her face. "You're the most important thing in my life. There's nothing else."

"You can't say that," Mal loudly denies. "You have a kingdom. You're the king."

Ben makes a noise before commenting, "I may be king, I may have a loving family, and I may have devoted friends… but I don't really think my life had true meaning until I met you." She doesn't speak, and he slightly shakes his head, "I don't want to make you feel trapped or… obligated." He offers a sad look, "But I do need you in my life, because without you my life is just, well, my life. It's tiring and hard, and you are my shining light." He takes her hand, "And I know you would never betray me. I can feel in my heart how good you are— how right we're meant to be— so you can't turn out like your mother. I know you won't, and I promise you that."

After a moment Mal merely states, "I hope you're right."

- This was the first of the last two chapters that I wrote while the internet was out. I feel like there's continuity errors as the conversations switch from one to the next, but then again I kind of like that I had to write Mal's part first. I feel like I would have made her more relaxed had I not written her part first, even though her apology to Ben was initially the purpose of the chapter. However, it's kind of realistic to have Ben going through all of his garbage and then having someone else deal with their issues at the same time.

- RadioDog77 Don't feel bad about not answering sooner, although your explanation was appreciated. Thank you for clarifying your answer. Details like Evie's bleached hair and the dying may not matter at this moment, since it's already been well established, but I'm thinking about translating this fanfiction into a novel. I would want to be a lot more accurate there... It's kind of an issue, because I would have to avoid copyright; however, I've already started translating the characters' names (and families) and made a few maps. The maps themselves are of after the water levels rise and the continents shifted closer together, just because it's easier to deal with less land and to have that land together (which means it's probably not the 21st century and I couldn't use that "joke" there)... should I tell you. Yeah. I want to tell you. Once I'm far enough into the fanfics to translate the chapters over, I've decided that in the novel Mal (Lor, as in Mallory) and Audrey (Harmony) would be half-sisters, and their father would actually tell Harmony not to report Mal's... attempted kiss, because she's her sister and all of the reasons that stem from that. Also, I have an idea where the prequel (or first book, depending on how I spin things) would be from the point of view of a character inspired my Lonnie. Her father would have died in the army, and her and her mother who are spies would be sent to the prison island (Purgatory) shortly after to gather information. I'm thinking three years? Because, Mal's life in this fanfiction is divided into the three years in Uma's gang and the three years after she had left it, so in the novel Lonnie's inspired character would be there around right after Mal left the gang... I have way too many ideas for my own good, don't I? I'm kind of thinking a mix of Christian and Greek theology for symbols and analogies throughout it, but I'm not sure. I would probably have to research them more first and the Bible is just so hard to get through. What was it, the second book, where all they did was give the dimensions of three objects? And then that other book that had nothing but numbers... maybe I should just do what my mother told me to do in the first place and start at the new testament, but I have a thing about going in order (which is probably why I would be writing the prequel first)... Mallory too close to Mal, even if her nickname Lor is usually always used? Or what it not be changed enough to be considered copyright safe? These are the questions I struggle with! Lol.

- Last Chapter: So, because of my rant in the author's section of the last chapter I forgot to mention something I really wanted to mention for some reason (no idea why). So, the part where Ben hit his calf on the metal bar of the bed was actually inspired from back when I had hit the front of my leg on a wooden coffee table. It made a dent actually, and to this day I can still feel it. It's weird... Also, not something I would mention had I not done that rant, but the part where Ben says there's nothing to tell is also inspired by something that happened to me. One morning when I was about to walk to school my dad was sitting at the kitchen table, and he just started pleading in desperateness that I wouldn't tell anyone, that he was my father and I wouldn't do that to him... I had absolutely no idea what he was referring to, and it was only after that I started to question if there was something to tell. Sure, he did things he wasn't supposed to do, but I never thought any of it was serious enough to tell anyone about (like "smoking" in the apartment, for instance)... Thinking about it now, I probably could have reported him for neglectfulness and such; however, I'm actually thinking that it would have been tied to one of his delusions... and if that's true, I really don't want to find it was.

- Words: Okay. This will be my last point for this chapter... as you may very well already know. So, 1) I hope you didn't find the way I spelled catchup irritating. Apparently, it's a very outdated way of spelling it and that it was never even common back when it was used... I would think that dialect would be why I then started spelling it that way, but when I was putting groceries away today my mother said the word differently so I have absolutely no idea now. 2) The thing is I grew up speaking English; however, I spent a couple years in middle school with my full German grandma, and when I took German class in high school I figured out that a specific word we had used often was actually a more or less direct translation from German. Nightstand. That is what we call a bedside table (it's nice and short, and I like it), and every single time I go to type the word I always want to say nightstand instead (meaning night table from the German nachttish). Apparently nightstand counts as English, so I could get away with writing it; however, I always felt like it wouldn't fit the area where the characters live. Also why I say soda instead of pop... I feel like there was a time when I didn't use "halt" either, because it's either of German or Russian origin (don't remember which) and it's just a very strong word. I feel like there was a time when I felt it messed with the atmosphere of a scene (for this fanfic anyway) and didn't keep you (a person) immersed in the reading experience, but I know for certain now that I've forgotten about that on and off and so have used it in here. 3) Just to make three. I wouldn't mention this, because it's really not important and I can probably just look it up if and when it does, but when I was making a list of what the island prison might have for education, I put down kindergarten. And now I'm ultra paranoid, because this is saying it's English. I really don't know, though. I feel like there should be a "d" in there somewhere, probably eliminating the "rt". That's how it works, doesn't it? German words with "rt" tend to translate to "d" in English? I really don't know. This is what happens when you mix up your English and German, people. You know, it's the words that are English that mess me up most with foreign languages. Once, back in German class, we had to do a skit, and the one word I forgot was the one that was the same in English. *Sighs* Why couldn't German have been chosen for America's language? That would have been so much easier. *Thinks for a moment* Nope. I wouldn't have wanted to learn English either. Never mind.

- Thank you everyone for reading. Next chapter-