Well, hello.

I realize that this chapter is, in fact, four years late. Seriously, I'm sorry, and a sincere thank-you to anyone who's actually stuck around. (Finding recent reviews was a really pleasent shock.) My plan, right now, is to put up a new chapter weekly. I can't promise I'll stick to that, but the next gap will certainly be shorter than than the last.

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I'm walking, tears blurring my eyes. My chest heaves. The sounds coming out of my mouth are disgusting, hiccupy things. When I wipe my nose with my sleeve, the fabric comes away sticky.

There isn't much you can see when your vision becomes wet – you wander, aimless, trusting in your feet to take you somewhere worth going. Salt water is like a censor. Summoned by grief, it blocks the part so the world you don't want to see.

Walking like this, you could get run down.

You could fall off a bridge.

You could drown.

I'd suffocate in that endless pool. My lungs would fill with water; my skin would saturate with water; I'd decompose into the water and that would be the end of me.

This thought, though, frightens me more. Death is more eternal than water. Terrified, the tears are chased away.

My vision becomes bone-dry, and I realize, with a jolt, that I've wandered into a dank area of town. Where I live is not a wealthy area, but it's far better than Judi says – people keep up their lawns, let children gambol about their driveways, fix broken windows if they happen to appear. Here, every second window seems to be boarded up.

Someone is wailing behind a door.

I shiver.

There are footsteps behind me. A feeling like moving bug legs crawls into my stomach when they don't disappear, even when I keep walking, even when I turn a corner. I spin around, sharply. My voice is a scream without words, hoping to startle the person behind me and, perhaps, to call help.

I stop.

It is Kai.

He looks nonplussed, arms crossed across his chest. "Well," he snorts. "You've certainly paid attention."

My internal organs seem to have settled in my throat, and all of them are acting strangely – moving quickly, moving painfully – but I quiet them down and cross my arms right back at him. "Why are you following me?" I try to keep my words harsh, but they come out damp.

He grunts.

I turn, biting my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, and start walking away. The footsteps behind me start up again. They're quick. I've hardly taken three steps when a heavy hand fall on my shoulder. I shake it away.

"Idiot," says Kai.

"Shut up," I tell him. "You don't even know what you don't know."

A strange, derisive snorting noise comes from his noise. It sounds like a horse should be making it. I try to walk away again, but his hand falls once more. I jerk away and turn around, glaring. "Will you cut it out?"

"You're an idiot," he tells me, once more. Anger scratches at the inside of my skin, trying to escape and wreck havoc on this boy, but my eyes begin to water again. The stupid functions of my body are throwing me off. I don't know what to do. I stay still for a moment, and the pause is all he needs.

"You're an idiot, a stupid, self-obsessed idiot. You think – don't leave –" I've tried to get away, but he holds me still. He's strong. "You think we can't see anything, that no one comes close to understanding what's happening with you. I don't know why you're unhappy, I don't know why you hide it all the time, but you're wrong."

I glare at his feet. "Let go."

"No."

"Kai, I'm serious. Cut it out. Let go of me, or –"

He shakes his head. The blue hair scrapes across his face. "You're too full of yourself to realize that you matter."

"That doesn't make sense." I twist, quickly, but he grabs my wrist and wraps his fingers around it. His hands aren't so much larger than mine. I've always thought of him as being ancient, but when I think about it I remember he's only thirteen. "I want to go, I want to go home –"

"You're not going home."

He's right, but I can't see how he knows that.

"I live there, jerk."

He smiles, a cocky smile, a smile that belongs to someone who knows he's getting his way. I've hated people more than this. Right now, though, only Tyson comes to mind.

"You hate it there. You're coming to my house, and you're staying there overnight. Call whoever it is that takes care of you from there." With his hand still wrapped around my wrist, I follow. If I don't, he'll topple me over. There's no way he won't. "I'm going to show you something important."