A.N- Update! Finally and the holidays has begun!
Guys, I was so stocked last chapter with all the lovely reviews I got. I love you all so much for putting the time and effort into writing them. I believe that you guys contribute to writing this as much as myself with the amount of writing power you give me. So thank you: XWhiteRabbitX, WxTxR, Little Wolf Vamp Hearts Yaoi, styleforever20, Your Fictional Affair, raisuke143, absababs, RainbroStache, MusicalRose1210 and GreedyEmo for your reviews!
And let me selfishly say, XWhiteRabbitX, I don't feel obligated to do anything. Your detailed and wonderful reviews just make me so happy I just purely want to.
Your Fictional Affair, wow dude, thank you so much. I'm amazed at how long your review was (and Loren). I never heard of the Hunger Games until you mentioned it, but I think I'm watching it next week now. Ha ha.
raisuke143, to say the truth, I'm glad that someone wants Kyle to be with Damien more than Stan :) …Did I just say that?
I really want to thank all you guys individually, but this is already getting too long. I think I should start thanking with PMs but I know all you don't read them.
Anyway!
Reminder- This is fiction filled with my crazy and wacked-up ideas. It has nothing to do with ANYTHING, except the characters don't belong to moi.
Man, I am taking too much on ANs. I hope you guys are skipping this.
Hope you enjoy~ but unfortunately not so much Kyle in this chappie…
Chapter Eleven: I'm an open book.
"How about that one?" I ask him, trying to indicate the wine-leathered book on the top shelf.
"Useless." He answers, not even looking up from the heavy book currently in my hands.
"Okay- How about that one then?"
"Useless."
"That one!"
"Memorised."
I growl in frustration and lean back, mentally, with annoyance. But my irritation doesn't even give Damien a nudge; he simply keeps flicking each page like a busy robot.
"Why do you even need to go through any of these books if half of them are useless and half of them are memorised?" I burst.
"Because it is important to go through information more than once. You'll never know what you'll find. Besides, there are some that I haven't yet memorised…" He throws the book behind after he reaches the last page, adding it to the pile of 'useful' books. "You don't have to try and help me you know?" He adds, scanning my eyes through the spine of each book and pulls out the thinnest one on the top shelf. The fact that he doesn't say 'because your contributions aren't helping anyway', may show his progress in politeness; but I can hear it in his voice, so it doesn't really help.
"Yeah, but what am I suppose to do then? I can't understand anything you're reading; one, because it's Latin, and two, because you're flicking every page like the wind-"
"So you're bored."
"Shitless!" I add for emphasis. But seriously, we have been here for hours with no changing stimuli on my behalf except for the occasional appearance of Pip (whoopee).
"So you want some company?" He asks with a smirk. My mind switches to denial mode, but before I can say anything, he continues. "If you want a communication, that is fine."
"Huh?" I ask dumbly, not really expecting that.
"If you want a distraction, then go ahead. I can multitask. Having a conversation with you and reading a book at the same time is nothing. Although you have to expect it to be mostly you talking to yourself." He snickers.
Half of me still wants to decline his offer, especially with his mocking tone, but the other half knows how much I would regret that from brain-numbing boredom afterwards. So I choose to accept his offer, in silence.
And I think, for something to say. I know painfully well that Damien is not much of a talker and trying to make a hearty conversation with him will be quite impossible. But there are millions of thoughts inside me that want to be spilt onto him, so it's not like I have nothing to say. It's just-I don't know how to talk to him. Accusing him, commenting on him, hell even praising him on rare occasions are easy, but personal, intimate questions? That's another story.
So I stay deep in thought on how and what to talk to him, for what seems to be a very long time. And I can get that Damien got exactly what he wanted, me being silent, in one way or another.
And then I finally ask, with slight difficulty, "Why did you want to, you know, experience a normal life?"
"You mean why did I want to 'possess' a human? Haven't I already told you that?"
"Not really." I lie. I just forgot the answer because it was a while ago when I didn't give two shits him. He sighs, but continues reading his book.
"It's because I was sick of hell." He states simply, as if it is enough of an answer.
"Yeah, but why were you sick of hell?" I demand with frustration. Damien freezes my eyes on the page, sinking in my words. It makes me think that he was serious about ending my question with that simple answer. He wasn't expecting that I'd demand for more.
"Why are you suddenly interested in me?" He spits, venom appearing in his voice as he becomes suspicious.
"Because you-" …fell in love with Kyle- The words nearly spill out of me, but my mouth instantly shuts, catching my words at the tip of my tongue. "-Dude, just… tell me, okay?"
For a second, Damien stays silent, but then suddenly flicks over a page and stares at it. But I can tell that no words are entering his mind.
"Hell is an- empty place. Filled with nothing but darkness and misery, pain. And I am its prince, being the son of the Devil, the King; I am the prince of darkness." He flips a page aggressively with the bitterness rising in his words. "Royalty in hell has no great differences from royalty on earth. We have to rule, we have responsibilities, and most noticeably by others, we have power and glamour. Everything that I ask for, even if I don't ask, is given to me with honour, respect and fear. And it comes with raging jealously and swarming desire. There are ones that want me, and ones that want to be me. They both disgust me." He spits the last sentence out with disdain, closing the heavy book shut with a 'thud'. He stares at the closed cover for a while, thinking, or trying to calm down. "As the prince of darkness I can do anything, yet I can do nothing. And I can have everything, while having nothing." The distasteful words climbing out of his mouth makes me speechless, the life as Hell's ruler something beyond my imagination.
But then there is an image, of darkness. Empty, cold, darkness reaching up and holding me, pulling me down. My hand reaches out for help, a deathly pale hand with its nails dyed black. And I notice, that it is the nightmare that I had the other day, and now I know, that it wasn't my dream, but Damien's. Only, to Damien it's not a dream, but a representation of his reality.
"So, you wanted to experience- what a normal life was like?" I ask hesitantly, nervous with the thick silence.
He smirks at himself, reaching up for a new book. "It is cliché isn't it? The prince, sick and tired of a royal lifestyle running away to become a normal man."
I chuckle weakly. "Just a little." I manage out. He smirks again at my words as he opens the next book.
But somewhere deep in my mind I can tell that it isn't only the emptiness of a glamorous life that made him sick of hell. I remember his father, Satan, from a few years back. I remember seeing him a few times, and I heard a few stories about him from Kenny. He's like a winey little schoolgirl: gullible, selfish, childish, dependent on his lovers… I can just imagine the amount of attention Satan gives his child. I always considered my own dad as a complete retard as well, but he always gives me more than enough attention, enough to be annoying in fact.
"It sucks to have a retard as a dad doesn't it?" I ask with a weak chuckle. He smirks in response, immediately understanding the meaning behind my comment.
"Fuck you Stan." But there is no venom behind his voice, and I can sense a smile tinting the edge of my lips.
A sudden throbbing pain pumps through what feels like to be my chest, and I instantly know that it's from a mixture of pity and guilt. Honestly, I have no idea what it's like to be completely and utterly alone. I have been ditched by my friends and have been in huge fights with my parents, or even worse, torn in between the fights between my parents, but… I was never completely alone, even if I felt that way.
Without knowing my pity for him, or maybe he knows, Damien continues to turn the pages of the book, swiftly, indicating that he's actually reading now.
"Why are you like, sealed… from staying on earth for a long time anyway?" I ask him, with pure curiosity, and trying to ignore the soggy sense of pity inside me. He hums in question, still reading the book. "Like, did you do something wrong? Like, are you grounded or something?" The word 'grounded' doesn't exactly seem right for the devil, but I can't find a better word for it.
"I said that I, along with my father, as rulers have responsibilities, have I not?" He asks, eyes still glued to the book.
"Yeah."
He reaches the last page and throws the book behind and grabs another, chucking it aside to the 'useless' pile without even opening it. He lets out a short sigh. "About eight years ago, there was a war that went on between heaven and hell, has Kenny ever told you of this? I nod mentally, remembering Kenny mentioning something like that. Damien continues. "It was hell's complete defeat. I was away, in South Park at the time, and when I came back my father was outraged. He blamed me for not being there during the war, and his break-up with his boyfriend set fuel to his temper. Ever since then, as punishment, I have only been able to stay on earth for a restricted amount of time."
Listening to his story, I feel like gulping, but with great difficulty. I knew that he was a complete douchebag, but practically hearing it from his son's mouth makes Satan sound much worse than I expected, on the childish and selfish, and now completely unfair matter. But even more than that, I shiver at the idea of a war between heaven and hell.
"No offence dude, but I'm glad hell didn't win the war." I squeeze out nervously, my voice rasp. The antichrist laughs highly at this. His roaring laughter echoes around the still basement and I bet it's travelling upstairs to Pip's ears.
"Oh, I'm not surprised with that human!" He cackles, palm against my forehead as if trying to restrain his laughter. The word 'human' somehow shoots through my chest, reminding me that he isn't one, but my mind is too preoccupied by his laughing.
His roars slowly die down back into its silence, and when his laughter dies down, strangely even with its mocking tone, I miss it. The silence left is just- eerie, in a way, and cold.
"What did you want then? You said you hate hell, doesn't that mean you wanted heaven to win too? Or are you just too pissed off about your punishment?" I say, out of both the annoyance towards his overly exaggerated laughter and the uneasiness of the sudden silence.
"Me?" He says, another book landing on the pile behind me. "I don't care whoever won. I hate hell, the pit of empty darkness and plain misery. But heaven is just as bad. It is also empty, with nothing but light and just-as-plain happiness. Misery and happiness both feed on each other, as do light and darkness, so without them both coexisting, there is nothing but emptiness." He flips through a long book and pauses when the page lands on a picture of the world, one of the old ones where most the countries are stuck together like one large piece of land. My finger traces through the land, drawing invisible lines that indicate the present continents. "I like earth, because it has both: light and darkness, happiness and misery, that is why I don't find it empty and meaningless."
I stare at Damien tracing over the map. I know he's saying something important, the feeling is registering in my mind, but none of it is actually processing. I give out a long and meaningful "mm-hmm" and hope that I don't sound like a complete retard.
But even with his crazy insights, I have learnt a few things about Damien. Firstly, he is actually a very talkative guy, when he wants to be. And secondly, he has always been alone, except for the small amount of time he spends with the limey upstairs.
As the long book is thrown to the side the door bursts open, announcing Pip's appearance.
"Damien, I've got another cup of tea if you want" He says, hopping over as he kicks the door shut behind him, two cups occupying his hands.
"Thank you Pip." Damien says with my voice, taking the cup of tea. They both sip in silence until Pip hums in delight.
"So, have you found anything yet?" He asks, licking his lips.
"No," Damien rolls my eyes. To this, Pip widens his eyes in shock.
"But Damien, you've been down here for nearly four hours… today. You can't say you still have nothing!"
"I didn't say I have nothing." Damien glares. "I knew that it wouldn't be easy. The seal or whatever it may be would most likely be a combination of different spells. I just need to find that perfect combination."
Pip sips his tea again. "Is it as difficult as naming all the spices used in an traditional Indian curry?" He asks subtly.
"What?"
"Never mind." Another sip.
But Damien doesn't take too much notice of Pip's words. He pauses my lips on the rim of the cup, lightly breathing in the fumes as he sinks deep into thought. Pip notices Damien's concentration and stops sipping, looking at the antichrist with curiosity.
Slowly, the cup leaves my lips and Damien looks up, as if he is nearly approaching a realisation.
"Pip?" He asks calmly, still looking into the distance.
"What is it mate?" Pip's voice is careful and calm, fidgeting in his spot trying to hide his excitement.
"Have there been any railway constructions around here?"
Pip chews his lips and searches his memory. "No, not that I know of, I don't think. Not for nearly ten years. Why?"
"So there was one about ten years ago?" Excitement slightly tints my quiet voice.
"Yeah, about eight- years ago? Why?"
"Is the railway working? Do they use it now?"
"No," Pip scoffs. "The design was stupid and it only connected the small towns in Park County. Why?"
For a second, Damien thinks, my finger and my thumb cupping my chin thoughtfully as he sinks in Pip's words.
"Do you know where I can find news articles from eight years ago?" Damien's eyes search the ground, still half in thought even as he questions Pip.
"Well sure. I think you can find them on the Internet or at the local library- but why?"
Damien finally meets Pip's gaze, the blonde's hazel-green eyes bright with slight frustration for his unanswered questions. "Because I think I might have an idea." He whispers. My eyes move to the corner of the basement, Damien's body still lying there lifelessly. "Look," Damien says. "Eight years ago when I became unable to stay on earth for a long time, I don't remember anything actually been done to me."
Pip blinks. "You mean to say, you don't have an actual spell cast directly on you?" He asks.
"Yes."
"And you think that the abandoned railway has something to do with your seal?"
"There is a possibility." Damien says. "A very high possibility. In fact, definite. I just hope there is nothing more than that. Nothing more complicated-"
Damien's last word gets cut off by the fierce ring of the doorbell echoing upstairs. Instantly both boys look up, the tight tension in the room suddenly breaking.
"I wonder who that may be." Pip says as he gives Damien a quick glance before opening the basement door. "You stay." He whispers as he shuts it.
"'You stay.'" I mock with a snicker.
"Shut up" Damien spits and concentrates his mind on the ceiling.
Small noises are heard upstairs. I can recognise Pip's bright welcoming voice and a muttering of one other, but I can't seem to get my grasp on who the other is. Compared to Pip, the person speaks in barely a whisper.
A couple of minutes later, Pip comes back down, stirring a new cup of tea and humming happily. I bet that he's bit of an addict.
"Who was it?" Damien asks swiftly.
Pip looks up, pausing his tune before chuckling lightly. "Oh yeah, um, it was a surprising visitor, I must say."
"Who was it?" Damien repeats with frustration, pronouncing each word carefully for emphasis.
"It was Kyle." Pip says nonchalantly, taking a sip of his tea. "I must say, Earl Grey is definitely my favourite-"
"Kyle?" My voice cuts in Pip's muttering. "What was he doing here?"
"You say it as if someone visiting my house is a disbelieving thing." Pip narrows his eyes.
"Yes, in a matter of fact, I can't imagine anyone coming here except for me."
"Well… you might be right there. He only came for something anyway." Sip.
"What would he want from you?"
"You say it as if-"
"That's enough Pip."
"Alright then. He said he wanted to borrow a Latin to English dictionary." Pip says with a small pout and gulps his tea.
"Latin? What would Kyle want a Latin dictionary for?" I ask Damien.
"You should be the one who knows." Damien spits.
"Yeah but- He learns quite a few languages but Latin isn't one of them dude."
For a second Damien turns silent, concerning my words.
"Did you ask him what he needed the dictionary for?" He asks Pip, who seems to have already finished his drink.
"No. I didn't ask him." Pip shrugs, sipping his empty cup longingly. His eyes suddenly widen with concern and dances up to meet mine. "Should I've?"
Damien sighs and slaps my forehead frustratingly. "Just forget it Pip, alright?" He growls. Pip shrugs.
"So, er, what are you doing now?" The blond stumbles as Damien stumps past him, kneeling beside the 'useful' mountain of books.
"I've done enough research here-" Damien answers, checking the spine of each book and throwing them to the side until he finds one thin book with a navy snake-like skin cover. He tucks the book under my arm, the half-full cup of tea still in the hand, and pushes past Pip to exit the basement.
"Is that all you need Damien?" Pip asks indicating the book, jogging to catch up. Damien sips on his cup of tea before answering.
"This is one of the only books I stole from my father after my restriction. And it is the only interesting book on seals."
Damien drops the heavy book on the kitchen table and flips through the pages. He reaches the end in less than a minute. And then he sits down in a chair, and to my surprise, returns to the start and begins again, more slowly this time.
Neither Pip nor I dare to speak or do anything that would break the antichrist's concentration. We just stare at him, in my case myself, stunned. So when Damien finally opens his mouth Pip almost jumps.
"Pardon?" He gasps, blinking a few times.
"I said, could you get me a map of Park County, please." Damien states, adding the magic word at the end.
Nodding repeatedly, Pip tumbles out the kitchen and heads for the lounge room. I hear books falling from shelves, the coffee table being flipped over and pens and pencils crashing down from desks, until he finally comes back with sweat tinging his cheeks.
"This is the only one I could find," He gulps down with a pant. He falls into the other kitchen chair and drops the paper on the table. "It's kinda old… It's the one I got when I first came here."
"So it's about ten years old?" Damien widens my eyes as he looks up at Pip.
"Ah- yeah…?" He nods with a frown. "Yeah, yup, that would be about right." He answers, not being able to hide his doubt. But I feel a satisfied smile spread across my face.
"Perfect."
"Oh, and just in case." Pip interferes Damien's smile and brings up a small laptop. "I thought you could check on the Internet for a new map, you know?" His panting finally begins to calm down.
Damien spins the computer around to face him, but ignores the screen. He instead reverts his eyes back onto the ten year-old map.
"Can you go get me a pen, Pip?" The devil mumbles. But Pip hears it and swiftly goes back into the lounge room, this time coming back in a few seconds with a red marker in his hand. Damien receives it without looking up, already preoccupied with the map.
The seconds tick by and turn into minutes, and under this tense atmosphere and heavy silence it feels easily like an hour. Damien taps the pen on the table as if confronting a brain-twisting quiz. After another few minutes, he types something into the computer, a new map popping up, and he traces his gaze through it. His eyes dance from the screen to the map countless times that makes my head spin, until he finally freezes my eyes on the screen.
Both Pip and I notice that he has come up with something and the blond leans in curiously, glancing into the screen to search what Damien has found. But before Pip even gets a good look at the computer, Damien flips the cap off the red marker and taps blobs of ink onto the map, shifting Pip's curiosity off the screen and onto the map.
One two three four five, five red dots spread out on the map of Park County.
"What- what do they mean?" Pip asks, eyes dancing around each of the dots.
Damien pushes the cap back onto the marker with a clear 'click' and looks at his work. "Cemeteries."
The word pulls Pip's widened eyes onto Damien. "Cemeteries?" He repeats. Damien nods. "But those aren't all the cemeteries, they aren't even the main ones! How about this one, or- or this one?" Pip says as his fingers traces different cemeteries. "You haven't even circled South Park Cemetery-"
"Because they aren't just normal cemeteries." Damien cuts in Pip's excitement and confusion. "They," He points at the five dots. "Are pet cemeteries."
"Pet Cemeteries?"
"Pet cemeteries?" We both ask at the same time. Damien nods.
"Elm Cemetery and Hathaway Cemetery are both normal cemeteries with a special area for pets. The other three are not shown on this map but they are there on the Internet, meaning that they were all built in the past ten years. They have a possibility of being made eight years ago by my father." My finger taps on the empty space with a red dot thoughtfully.
"But why pet cemeteries?" Pip wrinkles his nose in confusion, but Damien cuts him off, slipping my phone out and dialling some random numbers.
"I just need to confirm something." He tells Pip as he puts the phone to my ear. I cut out his little call and stare at the old map, searching through the red dots. At first, they looked like they were randomly scattered, but now that I look at it more carefully, they look like they could make out a pentagon.
A few minutes later, after a few calls, Damien finally slides my phone back into my pocket. I didn't spare one ear to any of his conversations, but when I look at Pip's expression, I get a little curious. His face is all scrunched up, yet his eyes are wide like an owl.
"Goats, Damien?" He says disbelievingly. "Goats?"
"Yes Pip." Damien picks the red marker up and twirls it in my hand. "Goats." He says with a smile. "All five cemeteries have a buried pet goat. All burials about eight years old." The marker stops spinning and he flicks the top off.
"Are you saying that Satan sealed you with goat's blood?" Pip whispers loudly, gripping onto the table anxiously for no reason.
"Not only that Pip." Damien says, the marker squeaking as it traces along the map. A red line extends from one red dot to another, joining all the cemeteries. Only, not in a pentagon like I was expecting. The squeaking ends when Damien joins the last dot and takes the pen off the map. Now, in the centre of the map of Park County, is a big red star. "And then the abandoned railway…" Damien whispers as he places the marker back onto the map and draws one last line through each cemetery.
When that is done, it is complete. I hear Pip let out a soft breath and I feel a cold shiver creep down my spine.
"That is it. The Devil's seal."
And we all stare at it, the bright red pentacle glimmering on the surface of the old map.
x
The next day, that's today, right now in fact, Damien chooses to back up his speculation at the local library, looking through old newspaper articles. The library lady gave Damien a strange look before giving him the papers. I think it's the first time in nearly ten years that Stan Marsh has come to the local library by himself, without his nerdy best friend. And for what? Looking through eight year-old local newspapers? Yeah, I think I'd give myself that look too library lady.
I can still feel the lady's eyes glaring at my back through her thick spectacles, but I don't blame her. It's the first day into the winter holidays, well, Monday, and the place is nearly deserted. She has nothing better, or nothing at all, to do. But Damien doesn't seem to care.
In no more than an hour, Damien places the last newspaper on one of the massive pile of newspapers, stretching once in fulfilment, cracking my joints. I'm so glad the local paper only comes out once every fortnight. I don't even want to imagine the massive pile of newspapers created if we had one every day.
"Thank you, Doreen." Damien says with a charming smile, glancing swiftly at her name badge. Before she notices, he dumps the mountain of newspapers on her desk in one journey, earning an impressed gaze from the middle-aged lady.
Once outside, Damien makes my way home, swiftly digging through the snow, the cold quickly attacking my body.
"So, I'm guessing you found what you wanted?" I ask him.
"Yes. A few articles on the opening of three new cemeteries. A few months between each opening in an attempt to make the opening of three new pet cemeteries in the course of one year natural. As if anyone would care. And a few small articles on the construction of a small railway, strong criticism on it, then mocking how it miserably failed and had to give up the construction."
Damien says all this in one quick blow, almost sounding excited, but it takes me a few seconds to sink in his words.
"So- that's good right? It means your ideas were right, right?" Damien smirks at my confused tone and choice of words but confirms me nonetheless. "Cool…" Is all I say in return. The whole 'Devil's seal' and black magic crap is still fuzzy in my brain.
As Damien continues to march through the snow the faint sound of heavy rock music whispers through the pocket of my jeans, making my phone vibrate against my thigh. Damien slips the phone out and answers without slowing his fast walking. It does seem especially icy today.
"Hello?" He says.
"Hello, Damien?" A jittery voice answers.
"Pip?" Damien furrows my eyebrows and glances at the phone but keeps his pace. My house, warmth, is just around the corner.
"Bloody hell…" The voice shakes on the other side of the phone. "Damien, Damien! What should I- or what should you- Damien- Oh goodness, fuck!" He bursts out almost in a sob. Wow, I didn't know he could swear.
"Calm down Pip, what's wrong?" Damien soothes, a strange mixture of concern and frustration in his voice. Deep and heavy breaths shoot through the speaker, Pip desperate to calm down on the other side.
"Damien, I think I… really really messed something up." Pip squeezes out. But his panicked voice barely reaches Damien and it barely reaches me.
As Damien turns into my street his rushing feet come to a sudden halt, my whole body tensing as he forgets to breathe for a second. Because sitting on the steps of my front door, waiting in this freezing weather trying desperately to keep warm by hugging himself into a tight ball, is Kyle.
"Pip?" Damien mutters into my phone, cutting off the blonde's ranting. "I'll call you back, alright?"
"Huh? What- wait, no! Damien-" But Pip's distant calls is cut off by a small 'beep', and the phone is slipped back into the pocket of my jeans.
"Kyle," Damien gasps, jogging up to the boy cuddling himself on my doorstep. "What are you doing here dude?"
Kyle shifts his eyes up, the shine in his green eyes being disturbed by his white breath. His eyes seem to narrow, in what I would say a glare, searching my eyes.
"Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?" He asks. His high voice somewhat low, like a warning. And to me, I know it is a dangerous warning. When something is wrong, Kyle screams. So if something's wrong and Kyle's not screaming, then something is really, really fucked up.
I feel my heart shrivel up in anxiety at his piercing eyes and low voice, but Damien manages to keep a cool tone.
"Dude, I like, live here? This is my house." He says with slight sarcasm.
In rejection to my joking tone, Kyle looks down, locking his eyes with his feet, his boots shifting deeper into the snow as he lets out a brush of white breath that rises and disappears into the frozen atmosphere.
"But it isn't, is it?" A voice whispers. It takes me a long second to realise that that voice is Kyle's. He looks up, the piercing glare of his eyes now replaced with something more desperate and aching. "This is not your house is it?" He jumps to his feet, our eyes locking together perfectly with our same height, his extra few inches gained from the step he stands on. His eyes are still searching, and his body begins to tremble from the sudden cold, but what I notice are his lips, still and tensed. He nods at me, up and down, indicating my body.
"And that is not your body is it?" The quiet words slide out of his frozen lips. His trembling hands rises from his stomach and holds out a heavy book. Its cover is made of red leather, with a demonic symbol carved in the middle.
"Is it? Damien."
A.N- Small note: I write Satan with a capital 'D'evil and Damien with a small 'd'evil. Don't ask me why.
Okay, I did quite a lot of research on the geographical stuff and the names are actually named off streets of certain towns in Park County, but other than that, it is ALL MADE UP, because I am really not bothered connecting this to real geography. So yeah, just, bare in mind that the Park County in this story is pretty much a fictional Park County.
Ha ha ha, anyways, I'm thinking on writing an M rated one-shot for my eighteenth birthday, but dunno if I'll finish it in time. Oh well.
Wow, such messy and long ANs. I just want to shout "Shut up, nobody cares about you!". Anyway, thanks for reading! Me and my story will love it if you leave a comment!
