Chapter 11

Swinging to the left, knuckles passed through her space. She could feel the force behind the blow. Near miss. Thank God. The crowd was screeching like the vultures they were. Picking off the dead carcasses of the fallen. What were they? Warriors? Fighters? Certainly not heroes. Gladiators. That's it. The ones forced into the fights. The Gladiators. And the pit? The high, concrete walls. The rusted, gnarled, wire mesh. That was their coliseum. Where their blood was spilled. Where men died. But for what? Fame? Glamour? Fortune? Greed. Avarice. It was all there. All of those sins. But where did they all fall?

Everything was whirling around her so fast. The cries and yells were like a faint buzz rattling around in a tin can. Her head pounded, which she perceived as pain. A crack. A foot connected with her ribs and she let out a mind shattering scream. Everything was numb. She looked down, blood was pooling. How had that happened? Her hands shook as she made to grab at her side. Something was out of place. What was that? Jagged. White. Dripping.

Open fracture. Her bone was protruding from her side. Skin torn. Muscle ripped. She could hardly breathe. Maybe that's what it was like. To get your lungs compressed. She knew that it should hurt, but there was only this tingling. An unreal feel to it. There was nothing. It twinged a little. Her stomach gave an uneasy wrench. She squirmed. Fingers locked in around her throat. She was pushed back against a wall, her head making a small crack as it recoiled. Her eyes were wide. Was this fear? Or confusion?

Something grabbed her hand. Her fingers were wrenched back. She looked for the face. But she couldn't see it. There were no features. Just blank. Skin. Pulled taut over the average looking skull. No hair. No eyes. No mouth. No nose. Nothing. Like a blank canvas. Her assailant moved his jaw, the skin where his mouth should be, getting tighter and tighter. Her eyes widened. Stretching. Tighter and tighter. Sinew, muscle, fibers, she could hear it all. At first it reminded her of cloth. A zippered line began to form, the sound of tearing cloth echoing in her ears. A scream. His throat moved, a cry of pain and tears. From no eyes. What was this?

Finger nails broke into the back of her skin, something slipping off of her knuckles. Her white was flung into the air, caught by another. Cruel eyes stared all down at her. Judging. Her shoulders rippled, fear and panic surfacing. What was going on? She wasn't supposed to lose! She couldn't lose. There was no other alternative. There was no other option. None at all. Crack. Smoke billowed out of his new mouth. His breath was putrid. A tomb.

And that's how it should have stayed.

Crack.

She looked down at her stomach. Blood pooled more profusely. Her eyes widened with the tears. But. She didn't feel anything. What was this? She couldn't breathe. It was like she was being suffocated. She felt the pads of his fingers at her throat. She heard them echo in unison. Condemn. Like a judge passing his ruling onto a convict. Like a well versed choir. Their voices reached up to the heavens and down to the very pits of hell. They were the executioners. He was the axe. She was just another dog. Just like everyone before her. What right did she have?

Finger nails pulled at her skin, trying to part her throat. She could taste the blood. She could feel it. Her stomach turned. But where was everything she worked for? What had happened to it? Her mom? Dad? Where were they in this mess of things? Eyes glassy, she searched the crowd. There they sat, singing with that choir. She was nothing. Forgotten by everyone. Who would want a murderer for a daughter anyways? They had made it pretty clear. All hope gone.

The faceless man pulled his fist back again. And launched it.

Sweat dripped from every pour of her body.

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Looking for work. It was scarce and sort of hard to come by, nowadays. He waited outside of the mill in a long line full of all sorts of men. Some were tall. Some were skinny. Some were tan. Some were pale as a sheet. But they all were starving. They all needed the money. The food. They all needed the work. He was just trying to provide for his family, like he used to. Before they had taken everything away from him. Haruka was with her, today. He could trust that girl. Even though she often times came home with cuts and bruises.

It just didn't set well with him. What was she doing? What could she possibly do? How had she managed to find such a job? All of those positions had been filled. That's the impression that he had originally had, at least. Maybe not. But. Why wasn't she letting him in? Because someone always has to be home. Right. They both couldn't be gone at the same time. What if something were to happen? She was too weak and way to sick to take care of herself.

No one talked in these lines. Everyone else was the competition. He straightened himself up, his back giving a little grunt of protest. Ever since that day, his physical state hadn't been one hundred percent. All of the meager earnings that they made went towards her. His wife. She was way more important than any of them. She had to survive. But. Perhaps it was just their time? Maybe they should just let Haruka go. Let her out into the world. She could make a decent living. Wouldn't always have to worry about them. He let his brown eyes fall, a small frown tugging at his lips.

The morning air was cool. The sun had barely begun to rise over the horizon. Crows cawed into the dusk. He could see his own breath rising into the chilled air. His fingers were curled, his skin red. It was worth it. His bones ached. But it was worth it. If for only a few hours of good, hard labor. It was all worth it. His stomach twisted. A father should never have to ask his daughter to provide. That was supposed to be his job. For all he knew, she was selling her body. His jaw clamped. Teeth grinding. It made him sick to his stomach. Maybe she was selling herself. And her clients were just a little abusive? That would make sense. The bruises and the cuts. It all made sense. His blood boiled.

No.

Haruka wouldn't allow herself to stoop to that level. He had better faith in his daughter. Whatever she was doing, it wasn't sneaky or seedy like that. She had a sense of pride. She had a sense of morals and principles that she stuck to like glue. There was no way. Nervously, the elder Tenoh shifted, his dark eyes flitting around. The gates would be opening soon. The whistle would sound. And then the rush. Perhaps he was too old for this. He wasn't in the best condition. Not like some of the younger men. They all had families too. Some newborns, even. But. His wife.

Ken straightened himself up, his graying hair falling in front of his eyes. Ready. Set. Go. The whistle blew. It almost deafened him. The surge of the crowd was almost overbearing. He almost lost his balance. But, he stumbled his way forward. He was desperate. He needed to be the man. He had to wear the pants. Not let his daughter do it for him. He pressed his body up against the chain linked fence, his fingers gripping the wires as he called out like the rest of the men.

"Me! Please! I need the money! We're starving! Sick! Dying!"

It was almost frightening. But, in desperate times, fear seems to not exist at all. It just floats there. Like a body, lost to the tides.

A man approached the wrought iron gate, a guard already in his station. He surveyed the crowd. His hat was pulled down low over his ears, to keep them warm. His jacket must have been wool. His leather gloves were locked in around a clipboard. His jaw was ridged and sharp. Nose red, he began to push people through. One by one. Some he would push away and say "No not today." They would leave, defeated. Something came down upon his shoulder. That gloved hand. Fierce hazel eyes looked down at him. Ken almost wanted to cringe, but he did not. He would not. Standing his ground, he looked right back.

The man nodded his head and pushed him through the gates. They would take names later and give wages in a while. But that was of no concern. What mattered was the job. The smell of cedar. Oak. Pine. Trees. Lumber. A large sign was bolted across two guard stations. They would be searched. As usual. His eyes traced each letter carefully.

JSK Lumber

A good, strong company. It had its feet in the water a long time ago. It had been around for years. Ever since he could remember. He had gone through this process many times. With practiced steps, he made his way to the loading bay. Lift. Carry. Load. That's all he had to do. And now that he wasn't considered an enemy or the competition, his fellow workers were much more jovial to speak with. A chipper 'hello!' Or a brisk 'Good mornin!' It made a smile come to his lips. This was more like it.

The sun quickly rose, but the chill did not leave. Sweat drenched his body by the time that it was at its peak. Dragging heavy boards or carrying satchels of tools was quite a task, especially when you had to do it from one end of the work area, all the way to the other. Built upon the bay, some time was added. Had to cut and move across some rather unneeded area to avoid falling into the water. Oh well. Work was work. A shiver ripped through his spine as a conversation drifted to his ears. Normally, he would have minded his own business. Kept to himself. But not this time. The hushed words were too tempting and excited to not be aware of. He turned his back, so as not to draw attention to himself. With a pretense of work.

"Did you hear?" A younger man was leaning closer to one of his buddies.

"Hear what?"

"Bout the streets! They ain't safe in these times." The streets are never safe.

"Well, what makes you say that? They seem just fine ta me." He leaned a little closer to his friend, his eyes getting a little shifty. Ken moved a little closer to better hear. Curiosity peaked. His eyes moved to peek out of the corner of his eye briefly. Perhaps they knew? What difference did it make. They obviously didn't care.

"Mens been disappearin! Might be a murderer on the loose!" He looked around again. Ken pretended to look preoccupied so as not to cause trouble, his eyes and hands hastily working on bundling up another satchel of materials. But he needed to know. So he kept on listening.

"Bull shit!"

"No! I ain't lyin'! The word is that he strikes in the night. Some men will go out Friday to go see the bands, and they ain't never return!" The second talked in a hushed, quiet manner. His eyes were wide with a boyish delight.

"Well, maybe they's wives are just too much?" he joked. Yeah. Maybe. The two erupted into laughter, lost in their own little joke. But something just didn't set well with Tenoh. No. He bit his lip and pulled the satchel onto his shoulder. His muscles screamed in protest, but he would be fine. All he had to do was make it till that evening. What if what they had said was true? People disappearing. He looked up into the sky a frown etched onto his face. He would have to talk to her.

Something just wasn't setting well. He just wanted to protect her! Didn't want her to get hurt. Maybe she wasn't aware of the danger. If they lost her, well. The grief would probably kill them both. He swallowed, his throat dry. No. He couldn't let her go out. Not on Friday. Not that Friday. If the killer stayed to his pattern then…Unsettled and grim, the older man went about his business.

Hindsight.

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She hadn't returned in an hour. Or even two. It had been four, maybe five. Just sitting in that alley, the rain pelting down and washing over her face. It was refreshing. Stung. But Haruka knew that she had a duty to uphold. That's what made her struggle back to her feet. The sound of a feeble, weak cough. The cackle of a haggled wretch. And the smell. Oh. The smell was putrid. Awful. If all other factors had been taken away, the smell alone would have pushed her out.

Regardless.

She looked down at her hands, a half eaten loaf of bread held lightly between her fingers. Worse for ware. Her knuckles were still a bit bloodied from the last week. Scabbed and caked. Her skin was sure to be rough and callused with the hard work and the beatings that they had taken. Wonder how many small hair line fractures. How many microscopic breaks were beginning to form? What did it matter. Her well being didn't matter. So long as she was alive and could provide, that's all that was needed. Still. Through out the week, she hadn't found a new home. Of course, there was this one. But. The current owners were to move out first. He said that should be in about a week. Maybe two. They were moving further north. Thinking about Canada.

Her eyes fell upon the disgustingly familiar earthen ground. The rotting and slowly collapsing walls. The small coals of their fire pit. The crumpled form of her mother. She was alright, though. She hadn't gone into any sort of shock all week. Progress! A smile danced upon her lips. Haruka was tired. She could feel it in every muscle, joint. In every movement. It seemed to sap physical energy out of her to even breathe. Her eyes slowly started to close. In truth, she hadn't been sleeping very often. Someone always had to be awake. And when her father was out, she had to be with her. Had to be awake. Always alert.

Oh well.

Her shoulders hunched forward a little, the bread lightly falling into her lap. Her head lulled forward, sleep quickly overtaking her exhausted body. A little sleep wouldn't hurt, would it? Nah. It felt so good. Her mind was relaxing. Everything was quiet. Her thoughts. Her heart. The outside. Everything. She couldn't hear anything. She couldn't see anything. It was all black. Silent. Wonderful.

"…hey…hey. HEY. HARUKA."

She wanted to swat whatever it was away. Make it disappear. What did it want with her? She was sleeping. Her eyes flew open. She was sleeping. Haruka looked around, slightly disoriented. What had happened? She replayed the events in her head, and let out and outward groan. Damn. Okay. So. She was only human. She made mistakes. A helpless smile crossed her lips as she looked up at the person shouting.

"Calm down. I was only blinking." She flashed him a marvelous grin. Her father had a hand upon her shoulder and had obviously been trying to rouse her for quite some time. He only shook her awake when she was completely passed out. Or if something was wrong. Wait. Was something wrong? Her eyes darted past the older man to the pile of blankets. The form slowly rose and fell with a light breath. She was sleeping. Good. Nothing was wrong. Or out of place. The sky was not falling and the shack had definitely not collapsed. So. Why had he woken her?

"That was definitely one long and deep blink, Haruka." He glanced at her and took a seat to her right. He smelled of sawdust. It was a nice smell. Just like freshly cut grass. Or dirt. A very earthy smell. Calming.

"You know how it is." She shrugged. A small silence fell over the two. A comfortable silence. But she could tell that there was something on his mind. Something heavy. Something bothering and eating away at him. She gave him a sideways glance, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't want you to go out anymore." She blinked. Wait what?

"I'm not going to pass up easy money like this. You wouldn't either. It's stupid to even suggest that," she countered. What was he talking about? Why now of all times?

"If something were to happen to you, Haruka, it would kill us!" It felt like she had just ran straight into a brick wall. Her stomach turned, her throat constricted. She was being twisted into a knot. Into a web. A very sticky web. And she wasn't able to get out. If only he knew that. What was she supposed to say?

"Nothing is going to happen to me," she said all too confidently. Her words seemed hollow in her ears. She shouldn't be promising anything. Not anything that she wasn't sure she could keep.

"I heard down at the mill that men are disappearing. They think a serial killer is on the loose." He looked down at his weathered hands. His skin was cracked and rough. Dirt and grease seemed to be lodged in those crevices permanently. He was worried about her. Haruka knew that. But she had to do this. It was their only shot. And she was already caught, anyways. Gently, she grabbed his hand and gave it a small squeeze. He looked up and met her gaze. Met her cool, confident, arrogant smile.

"It's going to take a lot more than some crazed mental case to bring me down, old man. I'll be fine! Who would want to mess with me, anyways? Such a cool, confident, sexy beast of a cat?" She gave him a wink. He let out a small chuckle. "Besides, I ain't heard no news of bodies showin' up."

"That's because there are none. They just up and disappear. Like phantoms. Ghosts!" Her stomach did another uncomfortable turn. She had to leave. It was time. Shrugging on her coat, she did the buttons up, her hat being pulled down low over her eyes. She gave him another smile and shoved him lightly.

"Maybe it's their wives. Maybe they just have something better to go to." She wasn't going to stay. Not any longer. She had to leave. She didn't want to get left. Whatever the case, she shrugged her shoulders again. "Don't be senile, old man. It'll get your hand in a meat grinder." It was meant as a joke, but, to her, it seemed to come out as a warning. Don't meddle. Don't go sticking your nose into things where it don't belong. With that, the young woman turned on her heel and began to walk.

To that corner.

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They say sometimes, you can even hear a dog cry, if you listen close enough.

You just got to know where to look.

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October 20, 1922.

Friday.

Haruka was prepared. Prepared for anything. Everything. She was going to survive. She would not just disappear. She was going to go home that night. She was going to sleep in a corner next to a small, dying flame. She was going to wake up in the morning to her mother coughing. It was going to be okay. She was going to make it home. She was going to. She was going to. She was going to. There was no other option. Her hands shook a little as the car drove on. The warehouses were towered overhead, like they tend to do. Casting everything in shadow, as usual. The sun still had a small haze over the horizon. Made the sky look as if it were on fire.

She was on fire.

Everything was bathed in a flame.

Taking a deep breath, the young woman stared out the window. The car slowly rolled to a stop. The breaks did not squeal. The body did not jump. It was a smooth, gradual occurrence. She was ready. No. She wasn't. The realization was unreal. It packed a more powerful punch than a four hundred pound sumo wrestler. This could be it. The last night. Her last night. Didn't it drive the others crazy? Not to know. To live or die. Either were both plausible and possible outcomes. Equal in balance. It only took one mistake. Then you can't make mistakes. You have to be perfect. Yeah. Perfect. She nodded her head, her fingers grabbing at her cap, then pushing back her unruly blonde hair. She would be okay. Right?

No regrets.

She stepped out of the car, nodding her head at Charles. He gave her a knowing look. Was it really that evident upon her face? Or perhaps she had some soot or dirt on her skin? Was there food stuck in her teeth? She checked with her tongue. No. Raising a small eyebrow, she stared at the older man. He never spoke. Just sat and observed. He was like a statue. An emotionless, always watching statue. He was weird. Shaking her head, she moved towards the doors. Officially, it was week two. But…really, it was week three, wasn't it. Huh.

She moved through the doors. The smells, the sounds, the colors, they were all familiar. They didn't shock or startle her. She expected them. They were normal. So. Then. Was this way of life normal, now? She couldn't say for certain. What did it matter? Normalcy was often times interrupted by life. Life didn't seem to like to play fair, in this game. It was such a sore loser. A smile drifted to her other wise scowling features at the thought. That was until she felt a hand snake around her arm. A body being pressed against her shoulder. Lips brushing against her ear with a soft, spoken 'Hello.'

She whirled her head, looking at the sultry vixen that clutched her close. Haruka could feel her soft flesh through her jacket. Could feel the curves, and the rise and fall of her chest with each breath. Her heart did a small double take. What was going on. She was right. This doll was a crazy bean. The way she batted her large, green eyes. Her soft, brown hair brushed against Haruka's neck. It made her feel weird. This girl was rubbing off on her. Making her feel all weird. Not in a good way either. She really really wanted to push this girl off of her and storm away, but she couldn't. That would be wrong.

Startled, sure. But not rattled. Haruka nodded her head at the young dancer, flashing her a charming and brilliant smile. "Hello." She seemed pleased with the reply. Even if it was a little delayed. What was her name again. It felt like so long ago. What…was. Her…name. Jordan. Oooh yeah. Jordan. People milled and moved all around them, the expressions that of disinterest. It was a common occurrence. The dancers would often times pick up men. It was part of their job description. So, no one really even seemed to care. Except Haruka, that is. She wasn't here for fun or pleasure. She wasn't here for alcohol or the girls. Strictly. Business. The young woman moved in close to her, emeralds locking with emeralds.

"I was beginning to think you didn't remember me." A whine was hot in her throat. Was that supposed to be attractive?

"Of course I remember you! How could I forget such…" Haruka allowed her eyes to trace the curve of the dancers neck. She really didn't know what to say. "…eyes." Yeah. That was safe. Eyes. How could you go wrong with eyes? Jordan stared at her, a smirk pulling at the edges of her mouth.

"Oh. Yes. My eyes." She pressed her chest a little more forcefully into the scrappers arm. She raised an eyebrow. Okay. So maybe she had given the girl the wrong impression. But. That wasn't the most pressing matter. She was supposed to get her…bout numbers. The bouts. Yes. That's what she had come here to do. To fight. The people swam all around her, her head spinning. They all were beginning to blur. Her stomach felt unsettled. Was she nervous? Perhaps. Her muscles tensed a little as she attempted to pull away from the dancer. She was talking. What was going on.

Confused, Haruka brought a hand to her temple, her eyes squeezing shut. No regrets? She let her eyes open for a second. Directly in her line of sight, she saw two men. Passing a package between them. Her eyes closing again, she shook her head, trying to rid herself from the sudden sickness. No regrets, right? Her eyes opened again, four drunken men downing yet another round of whiskey. One of them toppled out of his chair, passed out, stone cold. She pulled away from Jordan, who was still talking. But she couldn't hear a word the woman was saying.

Bouts bouts bouts. Regrets? Do you have regrets?

"I'm sorry, love. I have to go, I'll see you tonight." She could barely hear her own voice as she pulled away from Jordan. She was sure that the dancer looked rather heart broken, but what was she supposed to do? Haruka didn't care. Not right now. At least she had managed to say something before she wandered off. Fear settled in the pit of her stomach. This might be the last place she would see before her life flashed before her eyes. The last roof to be over her head. The last walls to confine her. The last words.

She was split in two. A determined part and a fearful part. They were conflicting. Confused and arguing with one another. Man, they had some choice words to say. Yes, we have to do this. NO! We have to get out! Back and forth they bickered. Get the bouts. No regrets. Right? She walked, confidently up towards his door. Mr. White's door. His office. The area seemed to just melt. Everything was so out of wack. She had to calm down. Taking a deep breath, she kept her eyes closed, caught in the middle of his stair well.

"Oh, Haruka." The voice made her jump. Everything was broken. The confusion, it all calmed in that one instance. She turned around, her eyes locking with those blue ones. Her lip twitched a little, an involuntary action. It wasn't a sneer. It wasn't made out of contempt or malice. It just happened. The young woman didn't see it that way. Her features fell, her eyes hardening just a little. Right.

"Yes?" She replied. The girl obviously had something for her. Or else she wouldn't have said her name. Right? Her heart seemed to have stopped in her chest as she watched those delicate fingers pull a slip of paper out from a folder. Haruka wasn't sure what she looked like to the girl. If she looked gruff, defensive, angry. Or confused, vulnerable, afraid, like she felt.

"I've been looking for you." So have I.

"So have I." Haruka froze. Those words were just a small whisper. Like a breath being exhaled from her lips. Had she really just said that? She was really confused. Right? She had just imagined it. But those sapphire eyes looked around perplexed. Her beautiful face was pulled down into a small frown. Her eyebrows were creased. The way they get when she was thinking.

"Excuse me?" Haruka didn't know what to say. Her mouth was open a little, a look of pure shock washed over her. Michiru. That girl. She stood, the bout sheet still in her hand. The blonde wanted nothing more than to slap a hand over her mouth, right there. She was spewing forth nonsense! Madness! Perhaps she could fix this before the violinist got the wrong impression. She wasn't looking for her. She wasn't. No regrets. Right?

"Well, I m--"

"YOU CHEATED ME!" The angry shriek cut off her weak, stammered sentence. Her head whipped around to look down over the railing. People were beginning to back away, startled by the sudden out burst. That's when the loud crack of a bullet shattered the calm silence. The people all moved about, a small panic beginning to set in. Intensity sparked. More cracks. The floor level had been turned into a shooting range. Men yelled, the girls screamed. People pushed one another as the bullets started to fly.

Haruka turned to look at Michiru, her eyes alert. There was no confusion in them now. Another shot. A bullet whirled between them. Ricocheting off a metal support beam, it came right back at them. It bit deep into the wood, missing flesh. Heart now racing and pumping full of adrenaline, the blonde made her way down the stairs, grabbing the violinists wrist as she passed. No regrets. She wasn't going to let the poor girl get shot. She hunched over, trying to stay as low as possible.

"Stay calm. Stay low. It's a brawl. And a bloody mess," she called back over the panic. She expected the violinist to look shaken or panicked. But she found neither. Just calm, cool, collected. As if she was around this sort of stuff every day. She shook her head and muttered something about 'damages' but the rest of her words were lost to the thundering chaos. She didn't need her help. What the hell was Haruka doing? Her eyebrows creased.

Alcohol. Drugs. They made sane men mad.

Another crack. Hammer meeting bullet. Searing pain ripped through Haruka's side. She looked down and let out a curse.

Blood pooled.

You could become a phantom tonight. No regrets.

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AN: Sorry, folks. Not much of Michiru, this week. But. That's okay. Next chapter should make up for that. I sort of had to set up the next chapter correctly, however. So. Don't EVEN worry about it. So, what did you think? I actually am sort of fond of this chapter. It's close to my heart and it's the most morbid I've been able to write in a while. So. Woo! It makes me happy. Haha. Uhhm. RIGHT! I don't know if there will be a chapter next week. I move on Friday and I start work again on Saturday. School starts on the 23rd and I don't know if I'm going to be able to have enough time to cram in a chapter next week. It'll be busy. First week is always the busiest until I adjust to my schedule. So. If I get one written, it'll be up. PROBABLY on Tuesday, because you all know me and my being late. Haha. But I'll try, guys. I really will. I left this one hanging, a little, because I need to have INCENTIVE to come back and write. So. Yell at me. Heart!

If you have any questions or comments, please drop me a review. I love hearing from you guys.

T. - Is who a prostitute? Michiru? I guess you'll just have to see, won't you. I certainly seem to drop a lot of hints at people using her body, don't I. Hm. Buaha. I agree with the reviews. I get so confused when I go and look at some ridiculous fluff story and compare it to my own. I mean. Good for the authors that get amazing feedback, but I need feedback too! Hahaha. Shhhareee the love!

CoOkiE86 - Your name is always the worst one for me to spell. I swear. Haha. Okay. Thanks for the review. I'm glad you like it. Of course Michiru could do more if she were more aggressive more often. But that's not Michiru, unfortunately. Her hands are tied behind her back. If you know what I mean.

Swinging Cloud - I think you say that every week. Just so you know.

To Everyone Else - You guys make me happy. Haha. All of your kind words. Thanks for the reviews. They help me keep with the updating, you know. SO. Heart to you guys. If you ever have questions, I'll be SURE to answer them. In roundabout ways. Heart.

Well. That's it, I think. I'll (hopefully) see you all next week! Till then!