As promised, I am updating early. What do I want in return? Three Things from you guys.

1. My story "The Brooke" has been nominated for Top 5 Fifty Shades Fan Fiction for the month of September. VOTE FOR ME.

Link is here strawpoll. me/11130783

2. Tell me where do you see this story going to from this point onwards? Maybe I could use some of your ideas to progress the plot.

3. I need SONG SUGESSTIONS/PLAYLISTS for my chapters, they really encourage me to write better. Pretty Please?

WELCOME ABOARD TO THE ROLLERCOASTER NAMED "THE CINDER". PASSENGERS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO LEAVE THE RIDE UNTIL THE END, AS THE SECRETS WHICH YOU THINK YOU KNOW MIGHT BE JUST AN ILLUSION LEAVING YOU HUNG OVER. PLEASE NOTE, YOU ARE ENTERING AT YOUR OWN RISK. DAY DREAMING OR OBSESSING OVER THE PLOT DURING YOUR DAYS WOULD NOT BE TAKEN UPON AS THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE AUTHOR. PLEASE FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS AND ENJOY THE RIDE.

5.

Anastasia

Waking up in the morning with a heavy familiar weight wrapped around me wasn't new.

Christian and I had had slumber parties many times after my nightmares.

He would always stay with me, sleeping by my side till the next morning.

I guess he knew that his comfortable warmth kept those horrible memories at bay.

But what was new here was waking up with a heavy familiar weight wrapped around me when we were both naked.

Yesterday had been nothing like I had expected.

I had never seen it coming.

One minute I was angry at him for walking away in between an argument.

Next minute we were all over each other.

I had told him what I had sworn to never share with my own shadow.

The final level and what happened with Lucy and Cody was something I had buried deep into my mind.

It only came out during my subconscious hours in my dreams.

Yet I found myself spilling each and every detail to D.

What was more, the words had come out of me so effortlessly.

Like water flowing rapidly after the dams were opened.

I hadn't realized how bad I wanted to let it out until I was telling D everything.

Afterward, it had felt so strange, yet so nice.

I felt lighter and happier sharing my darkest secrets with him. I felt even better that despite knowing what I had done, he didn't turn me away.

No, he did just the opposite. He accepted me. He wanted me even more.

And there was no stopping him.

My insides were still sore, my body aching everywhere, my muscles still screamed not to move.

But it was a delicious pain. Not that the intensity was light because it really hurt like hell.

Still, I would take this helluva' pain anytime when it was succeeded by a paradise only Christian could lead me to.

We didn't stop after fucking each other for the second time, where I had straddled and rode him.

After that, Christian had taken me from behind and made me come the hardest.

Then we had gotten distracted in the shower as well.

Finally, I had fallen asleep after he had fucked me sweetly while spooning me.

I never knew one could have sex in that position as well.

The angle had opened me in several new ways that had ignited our experience together.

From afternoon to night, Christian had taken me five times and made me come uncountable times.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was taking it out on me for making him wait for so long.

Well, if this was his revenge then I would be certainly happy to pay for my deeds.

Last night it had been marvelous.

Phenomenal.

Stupendous.

It had been delightful.

It had been.. supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

I giggled.

"Good morning Cinder." A deep voice rumbled behind me.

Maybe I should've taken some kind of offense to it.

Cinder wasn't exactly a term of endearment. Nor did it represent anything beautiful.

But I knew why Christian had chosen that word for me.

He was right. I was the cinder.

I was burnt, but still combustible.

And I would make those burn who deserved it.

Christian's new nickname gave me a strength so strong that wouldn't have come from being called beauty or love or honey.

I turned to him, which was a wee bit difficult since his arm that was snaked around my waist refused to let me go.

Grey-blue eyes met mine, making me still for a second or two.

Or three.

Or maybe five.

His eyes were like a clear sky where the sun was dancing happily after the clouds of desire had rained their passion.

They were shining so merrily I swear I could almost see rainbows in them.

The blue was outshining the gray.

I found myself falling so deep into them.

Could anyone fall in a sky rather than flying in it?

I could.

If it was the sky in Christian's eyes then definitely I could.

Another thing I noticed was his eyes weren't groggy like he had just woken up.

They were fresh and cheerful.

Indicating he had been up for a while.

"How long have you been awake?" I questioned my brooding.

"Hmmm about an hour? More or less."

My brows shot up. "Then why are you still here?"

He shrugged. "I like watching you sleep and holding you."

"Or maybe you were hoping for some morning sex."

C laughed. "A man could always hope Ana."

I smacked at his face.

"Ow! What was that for?" He asked as he rubbed his cheek.

Oh, come on! I hadn't hit him that hard.

"That was your advance gift for being the reason I am going to walk funny whole day today."

He chuckled again. "Serves you good for holding onto me so long."

"What do you mean?" I played along.

"This would've happened months earlier if you wouldn't have made me wait for so long. It was pointless. The wait, it was worthless. Useless, valueless, bootles-"

"Alright. I got it, C." I interrupted him. "You can stop your floccinaucinihilipilification."

Christian just stared at me. "Huh?"

I snickered. "Floccinaucinihilipilification."

"What the fuck is that now?"

"Estimation of something being worthless. You can stop doing that."

Christian looked at me as if I had grown two more heads and a tail and now my body was covered in scales.

"Where do you bring such words from?"

"I took some vocabulary classes in the spring break." I smiled sweetly at him.

He merely shook his head again. "I am getting up. That word totally deflated any hard-on I had and drowned all my hopes for morning sex."

Losing all control, not that I was exercising any here, I tipped my head back and laughed out loud.

Christian narrowed his eyes at me. "You evil wench."

He gave me a quick peach at my temple and got up.

With all his glory uncovered and staring right at me.

My mouth dried instantly.

Christian had a gorgeous cock.

I didn't ever think a cock could be called gorgeous.

But his was.

All pink and thick and long and smooth. It was like a velvet sword. A hot, big candy.

"Keep looking at me like that with licking your lips Ana and no word could deflate my rising hard-on this time."

Good God, he was speaking truth.

He was already semi-hard.

But before I could react or he could make more promises, a loud series knocks erupted from the other side of the dorm's door.
"Anastasia?" It was Jose.

"Damn!" Christian cursed, making me smile.

"Wait a sec Jose." I called out and quickly looked for my clothes, finding them on my bed.

Somehow during the last evening, we had moved from my bed to him.

My laptop was lying on the floor, long forgotten with my panties draped over the screen.

I got up from Christian's bed and bent down to snatch my lingerie.

A loud smack reverberated as a sharp sting bloomed across my ass.

I gasped and turned around.

Christian stood behind me, all smug and smirking.

I gave him a look of disbelief.

He simply shrugged. "Your fault. Don't tempt me like that."

My mouth dropped open. "Asshole."

He chuckled, throwing on a shirt. He had already worn some sweat pants for which I was grateful.

But also not at the same time.

Quickly I dressed back while Christian went to open the door.

But before Jose could enter, he was staggered forward and hugged by Christian.

"Whoa! What's up Grey?"

To my shock Christian kissed Jose's cheek, creating a loud smooching voice.

Jose looked at him like Christian had just raped him.

Oblivious to his reaction, Christian hugged him again. "I love you, dude. You're my best buddy."

I had to bite my fist to keep myself from laughing at the expression on Jose's face.

Christian let go of poor Jose and walked out of the room.

"Where the hell are you going?" Jose asked him, still in shock.

C strolled out leisurely, his voice trailing behind as he answered.

"To buy a restaurant that serves only fucking hot dogs."

All my attempts of not to laugh went in waste.

My legs gave out as my ass hit the mattress and I cackled breathlessly.

"I'm not even going to ask what that was about." Jose said, coming forward.

The door opened and C came back with a Cheshire grin splitting his face.

"What now?" I asked him.

He went to the nightstand beside his bed and fished out something.

"I forgot my wallet." He took it out and showed it to us.

"Man, are you alright?" Jose asked as he stared at him weirdly.

Like he was scared C would jump at him anytime and kiss him again.

For some reason this made me laugh harder.

"I am great Rodriguez. I feel supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

Jose's face was epic. "What the what?"

Christian threw a wink at me then dipped down to kiss me.

Right in front of Jose.

"Going to get some breakfast. Be right back." He said, kissing me quickly once more before walking out.

Correction, dancing out.

Jose looked at the opened door then me, then back to the door and finally turned at me.

"Did you guys do drugs last night?"

I answered him with a straight face. "Yes, the best kind of drugs."

It was late in the evening when we had finally reached the Bourbon Street.

The first few hours had vanished in no time with all the bickerings and giddy laughter.

Until Jose had finally groaned and literally pulled out his hair.

"Okay, I get it. You guys are feeling fucking supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and I am a floccinaucinihilipilification. So please just spare me from your high drunk asses or else I'm going to have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis by listening to you both."

"Pneumo what? That's a new word." I had said.

While Christian had been grinning blithely. "Ooooh. Ana babe, you got a vocab competition."

"He just knows one word. He didn't know supercalifragilisticexpialidocious or floccinaucinihilipilification."

"But he knows pneumonia-blah-blah-blah-fucking-blah-shit. Plus it's longer than both of your words."

"Yeah, it's also longer than your dick, Grey."

"Nah. It's not and you know it. You have seen it or maybe you would like to see it again to recall your memory?"

"You don't have the guts to show me your dick on the highway."

"You wanna bet? You'll have to suck me if I show you."

"GUYS!" Jose had yelled, interrupting us for the three-hundredth time.

"Please, I beg of you just STOP!"

He had looked like he was about to cry so we became quiet after that.

A silent road trip from Atlanta to New Orleans ended up seeming like eight million hours rather than just eight.

Jose was a horrible companion.

I was never going on a road trip with him, ever again.

After looking through the landscapes out from the window I had gone bored pretty quickly.

I had offered to drive but both of them had refused.

Thankfully I was in the back while they both were in front the emitter time or I would have seriously hurt them.

Chauvinistic morons.

Now as we reached the end of the French Quarters, I was getting restless and antsy.

Leaving the crowd and the liveliness of the Bourbon Street behind, Jose parked his car in front of a quiet building.

I jumped out of the car before he had even turned off the ignition.

Stretching my legs I looked around.

Few people were standing in front of us looking inside what I guess was a shop.

I stepped forward curiously.

Reaching there I saw it wasn't exactly a shop. More like a gallery on display.

The paintings, each of them was simply astonishing.

Each one held the viewers captivated like the fireworks of 4th of July.

Yet as I looked into them I felt nothing but dread.

Fear.

Horror.

The audience didn't know what they were looking at but I did.

They thought it was artist's unique imagination of painting such strange landscapes.

They weren't strange to me.

They were frighteningly familiar.

One of the painting was of polar bears running in snow on a red velvet floor. It was painted so vividly, I could almost see it like they were running behind me.

Another was the river. It was painted so clearly, one could see what lurked inside the calm waters. Hundreds and thousands of long snake-like fishes with sparks around them.

Electric Eels.

I hated those paintings. Yet I couldn't stop looking at them.

They held a destructive beauty in them.

They triggered my memories too. I wanted to leave. I couldn't stomach looking at them.

The indoor running tracks, the cliffs, the forest fires.

Worst was the painting of the meadow.

It was where I had seen the sun for the first time in months.

Where I had fallen asleep trusting Christopher would keep me safe.

Where Lucy had found as sleeping and entangled into each other.

The painting of meadow brought the worse out of me.

"Ana." I jumped at the sound of my voice.

My name sounded strange to my own years.

I had become Mia again for a few minutes.

Christian stepped in front of me. Blocking my view from the art shop.

"Babe what's wrong? You're shaking."

I hadn't noticed I was until he pointed it out. I hadn't noticed the mist forming in my eyes either.

But instead of answering to him I looked for Jose.

He was standing few steps away from us, looking as enraptured by the paintings as I had been.

"Jose... what's all this?" My voice sounded cracked and weak.

He glanced at me woefully. "Brandon is a painter, Ana."

"But-but you said he doesn't remember anything. Like, Christian. Then what's all this?"

"I had also said he was more disturbed. You'll understand when you see him."

"Wait." Christian stepped in. "I don't get it. Why are you both suddenly so sullen?"

"The paintings C, he has painted the Brooke. The Pinnacle Race."

Christian stilled at my comment. He turned around looking at those paintings with a new sight.

This time, I concentrated on him instead of the paintings.

He was looking at them so hard. Like somehow they could trigger his memories.

I wish they don't. He has been blessed unlike us.

I didn't want him to remember anything about the Brooke.

God knew what he must have been through when we were in Pinnacle Race.

"Come on let's go." Jose said, leading us into the small shop.

A middle-aged attractive looking woman was standing with a couple near the painting of the cliffs, telling the price.

She paused in mid-speech, her gaze darting on us as we neared.

"Hello, Jose."

"Good evening Mrs. McGregor, is Brandon home?"

She glanced at Christian and me before speaking back to Jose. "Yes, he is. Just be careful."

"Of course ma'am. Thank you."

Jose walked towards the door inside the shop, which I believed led inside the condo.

We followed.

"Was that Brandon's mother?" I asked.

"No. Her aunt. His parents live in Vermont. Brandon dropped out of college from there and came to live with his aunt's family. He couldn't bear the cold."

"Understandable. After the Brooke, I can't bear the cold or snow myself."

Perhaps that was the reason I had left Iowa.

I must have come to Georgia looking for Christopher subconsciously.
Instead, I found Christian.

Right on cue, Christian's fingers slipped through mine.

I gazed at him. He smiled at me reassuringly and squeezed my hand.

It was a much-needed gesture.

"Okay guys," Jose started as we entered the house.

"Brandon doesn't come out of his room so we'll b going in. I want you to brace yourselves 'cause what you saw outside? It's nothing compared to what you'll see inside."

I blanched. "What do you mean?"

"Means there are more paintings inside his room. More personal. Trust me they are worse."

Then he looked only at me. "You think you can handle it, Ana?"

No, but I would try. Jose has been here, he lived. So could I.

Squeezing Christian's hand, I found the strength from his presence and nodded firmly.

Jose took a deep breath as he stopped at one of the doors.

"Brandon? It's Jose. Jose Rodriguez."

We heard shuffling noises from the other side.

I steeled myself as the swung door open.

But nothing could have prepared me for this.

The boy I remembered looked no longer like a boy.

His muscled body towered over me several good inches. Almost as tall as Christian.

Dark blond hair, olive skin, hard muscles. Brandon looked pretty hot.

As a girl, I could admit that.

But what got to me was his face.

There were no laugh lines, no easy grin that usually goes along with that kind of looks.

Instead, there was a hard jaw, cheeks swollen with sadness and troubled looking eyes.

His eyes hit me straight in the gut.

The shadows beneath it confirmed he didn't sleep much. There was a darkness in his gaze behind those hazel shades.

The similar kind of darkness that was in my eyes now. Or in Jose's.

"Hey. What's up?" He asked Jose.

Even his voice sounded woeful and broken.

Brandon, I realized was damaged like us. Probably more so.

"There's someone who wanted to meet you." Jose replied and sidestepped.

I took that as my cue and went ahead.

Brandon paled visibly as he saw me approaching.

Recognition and confusion collided in his gaze.

I smiled sadly as my voice came out heavy and broken.

"Hi, Brandon. It's really nice to see you again."

Christian was looking through the paintings hanging on the walls.

I had refused to look at them, keeping my sight straight on Brandon as I waited for him to absorb everything I had said.

From my peripheral view, I saw Jose sitting on the other side of the room, in a rocking chair.

They both were giving us some privacy while I had narrated our journey to Brandon.

Jose too was lots in the canvases.

The walls were full of it. So were the windows, the bathroom door and wardrobe doors.

I didn't have it in me to wander through them.

But as I waited for Brandon to react my eyes darted involuntarily to the wall behind him.

There was no landscape or rooms or snow in those paintings. The wall was full of portraits.

Portraits of only one person, though.

Emily.

She was another contestant from the Pinnacle Race. Also belonged to our Allies Squad.

She was my friend and had come along as a freshman.

In fact, she and Kyle were the youngest contestants in our squad.

We had lost Kyle in Level Two while Emily had gone missing during Level Four.

None of us had known the depth of Brandon and Emily's relationship, or if there even was a relationship at first place, until Emily went missing.

Brandon's meltdown had left no doubt about his feelings towards her.

And now sitting here looking at her pictures left a gaping hole in my chest.

God, I missed her. And Lucy. And Garrett. Even Kyle.

Needless to say, I missed Christopher too.

"I dream about you, you know." Brandon spoke out, finally in what seemed like hours.

"You did?"

He nodded. "Not much. But yeah I have. About you and that guy's twin." He pointed at Christian.

"Though usually it was about her."

"Emily."

"Yeah, her." He then peered at Jose. "Sorry, I never dreamt about you. That's why didn't recognize you."

"That's fine. I'm happy to hear I wasn't starring in any of your dreams."

Brandon gave him a stiff nod.

"You see I don't swing that way." Jose deadpanned.

A reluctant light chuckle left my throat. Brandon didn't laugh or reacted in any way at Jose's lame attempt.

His face remained blank.

"I believe you, Anastasia."

"You do?"

"Yes. What you told me, some of those things - I have seen them in my dreams. So I know you ain't lying. It's hard to believe all this has happened to me but... I believe you."

I slowly moved my hand and placed it on his arm. "Thank you."

"No, thank you for telling me. I had been having these dreams, these nightmares, since last two years. I couldn't eat or drink or sleep. Even going to college was too much."

"I can understand that. It was a lot for me too. Especially when it all came back."

"Why do you think I haven't remembered it all?"

"Maybe you haven't found your trigger yet. But you paint your dreams so you're not as lost."

"As lost as him you mean?"

He jerked in Christian's direction.

"Yes, you can say that. Though I'd he's lucky he doesn't remember anything."

"Maybe, maybe not." Brandon shrugged. "So what was your trigger?"

An orgasm. Of course, I couldn't say that.

"Being near Christian. It brought up his brother's memories."

Brandon's narrowed eyes told me he didn't buy my lie.

No surprise there. I was pathetic when it came to lying. I couldn't lie to save my own life.

But something must have been on my flushed face that made his understand my half truth.

"Oh."

Yeah, oh.

He seemed as desperate as me to change the topic. "How did you find me?"

Jose answered him this time. "I knew you were alive."

My face spun towards him. I gaped. "You never told me that."

"I had to confirm it, Ana. If I would've told you and we wouldn't have found him, it would've hurt you."

Guess he was right.

"But how did you know he was alive?"

"That night, during the final level. I was injured and I told you all to go on without me."

I remembered it. So I hummed for him to go on.

"When the landslides hit me, I passed out. I thought I was dead, but I wasn't. I woke up when they were loading us into the time machine. Saw you, Brandon and Christopher. But then I realized it wasn't Christopher but Christian."

"Christian? How?" My gaze darted to where C was standing. His back was to us, he was staring at a painting but I think he must be hearing us too.

"Well," Jade visibly struggled to answer. "The machines were back in BMHS so I think when we were taken there, all unconscious, Christopher must have made some kind of deal with them to let Christian go in his place."

"But why would they let anyone of us go? No one ever comes back from the Brooke."

"No one ever wins the Pinnacle Race either Ana. Maybe that was the price we were awarded."

"Being tortured with nightmares and half memories was a reward? " Brandon asked.

"Ana being attacked in her college as soon as she remembered was a prize? My inability to sleep is a prize? Why? I didn't even win the race."

I joined Brandon. "Neither did I. Actually Christopher didn't either. I threw the box Jose, I saw it smashing and the Lotus disappearing."

"Then I don't know Ana. I am just guessing this all. I am as much of a victim here as you guys are." Jose exasperated.

I shut my mouth.

He looked exhausted.

I decided it wasn't fair of me to put it all on him.

Granted he was from the senior batch and he did belong to Prefect Board.

But he still was a student. A victim who was thrown into the deadly race like us.

Brandon started. "So maybe we could understand this mystery a little better if Christian remem-"

His voice was cut off by a loud noise.

We all turned to see it came from Christian's side.

He was looking down at two fallen canvases.

His back was to us. I noticed fine tremors ran down his spine while he stood there tensed. His fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

I went to him.

His face was ghost white, jaw-gritting so hard I was afraid it might break, his eyes remained on the ground.

The emotions spread in through his face were nameless and confusing to me.

My own eyes followed his to look down at the two paintings.

The first one stilled my own breathing.

My heart pounding in my ears and against my head.

It was me.

I was painted on the canvas.

My eyes were shut, I was lying down and looked fainted.

Hands were grabbing me, one beneath me to support my back while other was splayed across my cheek.

The hands belonged to a boy sitting next to me as he stared at my limp form.

Christopher, I realized. It was Christopher.

Brandon had painted it too precisely, it looked almost like a photograph.

The expressions captured on Christopher's face were so accurate.

He was looking down at me with worry, concern, wonder and something else.

Something much stronger.

Devotion.

I realized it was devotion.

The ground surrounding us was rocky and grassy but there was a bright red and yellow sheet lying around us, almost engulfing me and Christopher.

The parachute.

It took me a moment to register what this scene was.

It was Level One's cliff diving.

After taking our qualifying lotuses, we had taken the parachute bags and jumped off to survive the Polar Bears' attacks.

Some of those bags had been empty intentionally. I had gotten one of those empty bags.

But I didn't die. Christopher had grabbed me and we had landed safely with his parachute.

He had saved me. We had kissed for the first time and then I had fainted on him, in the middle of the kiss.

It had been awkward.

But looking at Christopher in this painting, one could never say it was awkward.

The way he was looking at me... like I was his world.

My first thought was that Christian had seen this painting and was angry about it.

Which I totally get.

I was about to say something reassuring to him when my gaze fell on the second painting.

Oh. My. God.

Tears welled in my eyes instantly as I realized what I was seeing.

My mind refused to let the picture sink in.

The second painting starred Christopher too.

But I wasn't in it.

Neither did it capture a scene from Pinnacle Race.

No, this was BMHS. An indoor swimming pool was the proof of that.

The water was splashing around Christopher, his hand was stretched out curling to grab hold on something desperately.

His mouth was wide open, it appeared to be screaming in agony.

A black soft looking thin rope was tied around his waist, ending up to his chest where a thin silver thread poked out of the black rope, almost cutting through his chest.

It was a wire I realized with horror.

Christopher was being shocked into a swimming pool.

His eyes were wide and helpless with fear.

The painting was a close up look at his face, unlike the wide capture of the parachute painting featuring both of us.

Dizzy with terror I realized something that made my blood run cold.

It wasn't Christopher in the painting.

Christopher had gone to the Brooke on a football scholarship. He had told me that in the Glean Center and Jose had confirmed that too.

It was Christian who had gone on swimming scholarship.

It was Christian in the painting, screaming in pain while being electrocuted.

I looked at C, shaking and breathing rapidly now. I knew why this painting was affecting him so badly.

This was his trigger.

Christian was remembering his time in the Brooke.

Eager to know what happens now?

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Love ya all,

Kaishi Springs xoxo