Chapter 17: Show Goes On
A few minutes later Mr. Knight marches outside and grabs Kendall by the elbow, dragging him down the path toward the car and dumping him unceremoniously inside before striding around to the driver's side and starting the engine.
"Dad…"
"Don't, Kendall," Mr. Knight says, not turning toward him.
They ride the rest of the way in silence, Kendall practically feeling the waves of anger emanating from his dad. Kathryn arrives home soon after them with Melissa in tow, obviously wasted. Kathryn sends the girl to her room with a bottle of water and then rounds on Kendall, looking livid.
"Just what on earth were you thinking?" She hisses at him, shaking a finger in his face.
"What was I… what?" Kendall frowns and shakes his head, not fully understanding.
"I knew you had a problem, but we allowed you into our home, to be near our children because your father assured me that you were getting things under control!"
"They are under control," he argues. "I don't know how— I didn't—"
It dawns on him that either Melissa or some of her friends must have tampered with the drinks at the party, and he feels like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. My mom doesn't know what she's in for; Melissa had said that to him on his first day there... A small surge of anger courses through him. Things could have gotten way worse if he'd kept drinking. He remembers the last time he had a drink, when he woke up in the woods, covered in dirt and leaves and had to walk home and face his mom. He never wanted to see that look on her face again.
"It wasn't my fault," Kendall says slowly and clearly, looking at Kathryn and his father. It sounds stupid, even to him. Why should they believe him? He's an addict. A liar. Still, he presses on. "The kids, they must have-I didn't even know—"
"Don't you dare try to blame this on Melissa! What is the matter with you?"
"Calm down, Kath," Mr. Knight says, trying to soothe her and guide her away from Kendall's personal space. "Look, son—"
"You don't believe me, do you?" Kendall asks his dad. "You think I did this on purpose."
"Kendall, I know it's hard when you're trying to get the help you need, and coming out here and disrupting your routine and your treatment probably—"
"No. You know what's hard? Hard is having to listen to Mom crying at night when she thought I was asleep. It's trying to answer Katie's questions about if she did anything to make you leave. It's watching all my old friends get ready to go to college while I just pray to God that I'll eventually be able to transfer out of community. You don't know a single thing about me anymore, so don't sit there and act like I'm some problem kid you have to deal with, especially since at the end of the week, you get to ship me back home and go back to your real life—the one you made sure I'm not a part of. You can act like this was all just some experiment that didn't work. But you know what's hard? Hard is being so much of a fuck-up that I can look you in the eye and promise you I didn't do this on purpose, and you still don't believe me. But I guess I only have myself to blame for that, too."
Kendall stands and stalks out of the room, not registering the stunned looks on Mr. and Mrs. Knight's faces. When he rounds the corner to climb the stairs, he stops short, seeing Melissa sitting down on the first step, having eavesdropped on the conversation.
"Kendall…" Melissa starts. He ignores his stepsister and shoves past her, making his way up to his room so he can call Jo.
"Not now, Melissa," he mutters, attempting to shut the door behind him.
She follows him inside, clutching the bottle of water her mother had given her and looking decidedly more sober than she did when they first arrived home. "What's going on? What was that about?"
"Someone," he says pointedly, "thought it'd be hilarious to spike the punch at your party. Which I normally wouldn't give a damn about, except for the tiny fact that I'm currently in rehab for alcoholism."
"You… you're what? But you're only seventeen!"
"I'm aware," Kendall replies sardonically. "Look, after my dad left us, I let my life get really fucked up, okay? And I'm just now starting to put the pieces back together, and I don't need shit like this setting me back and ruining everything I've been working on."
Melissa backs out of his room slowly, biting her lip. She hadn't meant to get him in so much trouble. She had no idea it would get this out of hand. She could still hear her mother and Mark talking heatedly downstairs, Kathryn's shrill voice drowning out everything Mark was trying to say. Her mom was still bent on blaming Kendall for the ruined party, unwilling to believe that her perfect daughter could have had anything to do with it, let alone be the mastermind behind it all.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Kathryn was always doing this—trying to make Melissa out to be this prim and proper, perfect little girl. It was exhausting having to live up to that all the time. That was why she decided to mess with the party plans in the first place. Because at her sixteenth birthday, she wanted to have fun. But now her little burst of rebellion might have gotten Kendall into serious trouble… and it may have cost him his relationship with his dad.
At breakfast, Kathryn and Mark are both aggressively silent. Melissa pushes food around her plate, trying to decide whether she should break the tension. Kendall still hasn't come downstairs at all, but she's not even sure whether it's possible for things to get any more awkward than they are now.
"How are you feeling, Melissa?" Kathryn finally asks. "Do you have a headache or anything? You might need to go back to bed and rest for awhile. There's no telling what he got a hold of and slipped into the drinks."
"Kathryn," Mark says warningly.
"What, Mark?" She hisses. "I know he's your son, but you have to face the reality. He has a problem. And it's wonderful that he's trying to get help—though it's apparently not doing much good—but you have to admit that I was right."
"Right about what?" Melissa questions, her stomach churning.
"About it being too soon for Kendall to come and visit us, sweetie. It's hardly fair to expect him to uproot his routine, if that's what's helping him get better, and besides all that, to have him here around you and the baby? I mean, just look at what happened to your party. I don't know what I'm going to tell people."
The truth comes out, Melissa thinks. Kathryn never wanted Kendall to come stay at all. She wasn't concerned about his well-being; she was concerned about whether he might embarrass her in some way while he was here. Someone's in for a rude awakening.
"Shut up, Mom."
"Excuse me?"
"Just shut up about Kendall. Lay off him."
"Young lady, I don't know what on earth has gotten into you but you will not speak to me like that!"
"Kendall didn't do anything wrong!" Melissa says, speaking over her mother, a dull glimmer of satisfaction settling into her chest when Kathryn is stunned into silence. "I'm the one who got him drunk. He didn't even know there was going to be any alcohol."
"Melissa! What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I planned it, Mom! It was all my fault and Kendall had nothing to do with it! I obviously wouldn't have done it if I had known about him."
Kendall stops short, just outside the kitchen, listening to Melissa confess about the previous night. He slowly and silently backs away from the door, unseen by the rest of the family, as Kathryn explodes into a high-pitched shrieking tirade at her teenage daughter. It's too screechy for him to make out most of it, but he thinks he hears 'this is not how I raised you!' and 'I have never been more disappointed in my life!' Kendall almost feels sorry for her, having been on the receiving end of a few shouting matches in his day, but the sympathy washes away almost as soon as it bubbles up, because he remembers that it is in fact her fault.
He spends the rest of the day packing up his belongings and awkwardly avoiding eye contact with Kathryn, who seems to begrudgingly accept his presence while steadfastly refusing to apologize for accusing him of something he didn't do. Mark Knight says nothing either, and if not for the fact that his dad and step-mom didn't know he was listening outside the door when they found out the truth, he would have confronted them by now. Part of him wanted to believe his father was just waiting for the right moment and thinking of the right way to go about it. But another part, the nagging part that always voiced his fears and insecurities, even when he was trying to deny them, told him that Mark Knight wasn't going to try to fix things. That he was going to let Kendall leave believing his father thought the worst of him, so that he could justify cutting his son out of his life again. And it was that thought, above all others, that hurt the most.
The next morning, Kendall groggily turns off the alarm on his phone and wills himself out of his warm bed. He'd already checked and double-checked his suitcase, so all he had to do this morning was brush his teeth and throw on his jeans. Getting to the airport and back to Minnesota couldn't come soon enough.
"Goodbye, Kendall," Kathryn said stiffly when it came time for his dad to drive him. "I hope you'll come visit us again." She gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder, looking very much as though she hoped he would never take her up on this offer.
Don't worry, he thinks. I don't plan on it.
"Later, bro," Melissa winks at him and gives him a quick hug, surreptitiously shoving a note into his pocket and adding a meaningful look.
Mark Knight tries to make small talk in the car, which Kendall ignores.
"Look, son," he finally tries as the airport comes into view. "I know that this trip didn't end on the best note, but I hope we can still find a way to move past all of this and try again."
"Are you serious?" Kendall asks incredulously.
"Of course I am," Mr. Knight replies, not realizing that Kendall's tone of surprise is stemming from anger rather than gratitude. "You're still my son, Kendall."
"Where was that attitude for the last two years of my life?" Kendall mutters, not troubling to keep his voice low.
"I suppose I deserve that," Mark says with a slight huff. "I'm sorry Kathryn and I were so hard on you after the incident with Melissa's party, but you have to know that she's very particular about these things and she's very protective of Melissa—"
"Yeah, I get it, Dad. She had to make sure the screw-up stayed clear of her precious daughter. Wouldn't want me rubbing off on her, would we? But aren't you forgetting something?" The uncomfortable look on Mark's face is telling enough. "I know Melissa told you the truth. But you'd both rather sweep that under the rug than deal with it, and in the meantime let me believe that I did something wrong, that I'm somehow to blame for it? I'm not. And I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty for being the one to walk out on you this time."
The car rolls to a stop in the drop-off area outside the terminal. "Kendall—you have to understand—"
"No, you have to understand! I've been killing myself for the last two years, wondering what I did, what was the last straw that made you leave us! I've relived every single fucking mistake I've ever made, and while I did that, I made a hell of a lot more trying to numb it out and forget about how much I hated myself. I blamed you for so long before I accepted that I was the one screwing my life up, not you, you know? But I'm past that now. I'm responsible for my own decisions, so here's what I decide: I'm done. I will not try to be in someone's life who doesn't support me."
"Don't do this, Kendall. Think about what you're saying."
"I've thought about it," Kendall snorts. "I had an entire day waiting around for you to apologize to me to think about it. Thanks for the trip, Dad. I didn't know if this was going to work out when I agreed to come. I thought things could be different now. At least now I know."
He hauls the suitcase out of the back of the car and turns his back, walking with his head held high all the way to the door, though he's angry with himself for hoping that Mark will make some attempt to call him back or come after him. Against his better judgment, Kendall looks back one last time, only to find the car pulling out of the spot and driving away.
Anger fuels Kendall all the way through the terminal and the security line, making it to his gate and taking a seat as he waits for his flight to board. The weight of everything that's happened during the week rushes over him and before he can stop them, hot tears fill his eyes and spill out over his face. Kendall ducks his head and presses his hands over his eyes, trying to stem the flow and calm down, as he can feel strangers' eyes on him while he suppresses sniffles.
A small tap on his knee causes him to look up. A little girl with straight hair and big brown eyes stands before him. She can't be more than six or seven years old, and Kendall looks around, wondering if any parents or siblings are missing her.
"Are you alright, Mister?"
Kendall sniffs again and clears his throat. "Y-yeah. I'm okay."
The little girl shoves her hand into the pocket of the coat she's wearing, and when it emerges, it clutches a small fistful of napkins. "Here."
"Thanks," Kendall laughs, accepting her offer and wiping his eyes. "Are you lost or something?"
She nods. "I turned around just for a second! And then I couldn't see my mommy anymore."
"I'll help you find her, if you want."
"'Kay." The girl holds out her hand and waits expectantly.
Kendall grins and takes it, scanning the area for a security guard or someone official-looking to help them. Seeing none, Kendall walks a few yards, the little girl holding tightly to his hand the whole time. They stop at a vending machine and Kendall buys her a package of animal crackers, which she shares with him as they search the crowded airport for someone to help them. Finally, he spots a security person and leads her towards the man.
"Excuse me—" Kendall barely begins speaking when the sound of a woman shrieking interrupts him.
"Katie? Katie!"
Both Kendall and the little girl look around to find a hysterical-looking woman running towards them.
"Mommy!"
"Katie! What happened to you? Are you alright?" She pulls the little girl into a tight hug and exhales loudly in relief. "I was so worried about you."
"I'm okay. He was helping me find you." Katie points at Kendall, who feels his face growing warm.
"It's not a big deal—"
But the woman stands and gives Kendall a hug too, and he's surprised to realize how nice it is just to be held. He never really noticed how much he craved physical contact until he went an entire week without it.
"Thank you, so much, for taking care of her," the woman says.
"No—no problem," Kendall chokes, his eyes watering up again.
Katie waves at him while her mother leads her away, and Kendall waves back, just as he hears his flight number being called for boarding.
When he's seated (next to a window, thankfully, and he even has an empty seat next to him), he remembers the note from Melissa. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the now-crumpled piece of paper, smiling down at it in surprise.
Kendall-
I'm really sorry about everything. Hope you can forgive me. Keep in touch, yeah? Here's my Skype and my cell number. Let's talk sometime.
xoxo,
Melissa
"Jo? Something came for you in the mail yesterday." Mr. Taylor hands his daughter an envelope, his eyebrows knit together in curiosity. "Look where it's from."
With a shaky hand, Jo reaches for it and stares down. "You don't think…?"
"Open it," he encourages.
Jo rips open the sealed part of the envelope and scans the page before her, reading and re-reading just to be sure.
"I don't believe it," she whispers before handing back to her father so that he can read it too. She sits down on her bed, suddenly dizzy. "I don't believe it."
"Oh my God, Jo. You have to tell him!" Camille exclaims as she slams her locker shut.
Jo shakes her head, distressed. "I can't. I haven't even decided yet! I need more time. Camille, you can't tell anyone either! I mean it! Not even Logan."
"This is not a good idea."
"You're an actress, aren't you?" Jo demands. "Just act like everything's fine while I try to wrap my head around this."
The warning bell rings shrilly above them, and Logan rounds the corner on cue to walk Camille class. "Morning," he says, pecking Camille on the temple quickly and tugging her books out of her arms in order to carry them for her. "Hey, Jo."
"Hey, Logan," Jo replies, looking remarkably like nothing's wrong. "See you guys at lunch."
Camille frowns slightly as Jo heads toward her own class, but then wipes her face free of any sign of trouble, acting like Jo said as if everything is fine.
"I called you last night," Logan says casually as they walk toward Camille's classroom.
"I know, I'm sorry." Camille throws him an apologetic smile. "I passed out kind of early last night. Spent all day doing the homework I neglected all break."
She feels a pang of guilt in her chest because of how incredibly easy she finds it to lie to him, but the truth was, she spent all night staring from her scale to her goal sheets and trying to decide whether to tell him she was officially no longer classified as "underweight." Anxiety medication and panic attacks were also involved. As was jumping out of her skin every time her phone beeped.
"No big deal. Have a good morning. See you at lunch."
Logan flashes her that grin that melts her heart every time, and she knows that while she may be able to keep Jo's secret from him, she can't keep her own.
"Yeah. See you."
She almost blurts it out right then, but Logan's already turning to head off towards his lab, and anyway, she doesn't think it would be a good idea to spring it on him now. Instead, she ducks inside her classroom, her stomach in knots. The familiar feeling of heaviness settles over her and as she sits down and takes out a notebook she reminds herself in her head over and over again that the heaviness is just in her head. It isn't real. You aren't real. Camille closes her eyes for a second and reaches into the pocket of her sweater for the small pill she stowed in there before she left for school. Usually she refrains from taking her medication at school because of how they make her feel, but the foggy numbness is better than the weight of the stress and guilt she currently feels. She pops the pill without anyone noticing just as the late bell rings and her teacher arrives to begin the morning lesson.
By lunchtime, Camille's head is starting to clear. She smiles at Logan as he approaches to walk with her to the cafeteria.
"Hey."
"Hi. How's your day going?" He asks.
"Not too bad. Look, before we go to lunch, can we talk for a second? I have something I want to show you."
"Okay," Logan replies slowly. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes," Camille says decidedly. She digs into her bag for a moment, searching for the sheet of paper she had stowed in there before she left for school that morning, and finally pulls it out. "Here. Look."
"What's this? Your weight log?" Logan's eyebrows knit together in concentration as his eyes scan the page, wondering what it is he's supposed to be looking for. "Camille. You-?"
"Yeah," she nods.
"You met your goal!"
"I did." She wishes she were as excited about it as Logan is, but she can't seem to muster up the same level of enthusiasm.
"But this is awesome! Did you tell your dad? Have you seen your doctor?"
"Not yet. You're the first person to know," Camille tells him.
"Well I'm really proud of you."
"You know what this means, right?"
"What?"
"It means… it means they can consider releasing me from the Palm Woods," Camille says. "I mean I know I'm not, like, a hundred percent better all of a sudden, but this—this is real progress. And I don't… I mean… you how I get sometimes. Things are still really hard, you know? Every meal is still a struggle. When I first saw that I was at the goal weight… it wasn't good. It still—I know how this sounds, okay? It still depressed me to see the number that high. But my doctor told me she thought I was headed for a breakthrough… I think this is it. I think it's a sign."
"A sign of what?"
"That I can move on. Logan, I can actually do this. I can have a life again. Maybe."
Logan slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close as they start walking to meet everyone for lunch. "I always knew you could, goofball. I was just waiting for you to figure it out too."
When they arrive at the table, Camille watches Jo closely but the blond girl shows no signs of wanting to share any news. Camille glances at Kendall and feels sorry for him as he eats his lunch, blissfully unaware of the letter Jo's keeping a secret for now. She doesn't feel ready to share her own news with the group, but it's just as well because after a few minutes, Carlos clears his throat and then grins embarrassedly.
"So, um, you guys remember that art contest my teacher entered me in?" Everyone nods yes, not thinking too much of it. "Well it turns out it was like, a city-wide thing. They're supposed to pick the top 25 entries to display at the art museum, and the top 3 winners get some sort of prize."
"That's cool," Kendall says through a mouthful of sandwich. "When do you find out?"
"I already did. I'm in."
"Nice!"
"Yeah. So, the showing is on Wednesday night, and they'll announce the top three then. So, um… you're all invited to come, if you want."
"Of course we'll be there," Camille says. "Right, guys?"
"Definitely," Kendall agrees.
After school in the park, Carlos looks up when Wayne and Andy approach.
"Sup, man? You've been kind of MIA from the scene lately," Wayne says.
"Been busy," Carlos shrugs.
"Yeah, been busy hanging out with your Palm Woods crew, right? Busy getting back on the straight-and-narrow like mommy and daddy wanted, isn't that right?"
"Shut up. It's not like you've been around much either."
"Maybe not, but at least I still know who my real friends are," Wayne needles him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up.
"What, I'm not allowed to have any friends besides you two?"
"Didn't say that." Wayne blows out a breath of smoke, watching as the cloud rises and then dissipates into the air. "Just saying that all those kids you're hanging out with, they're all gonna leave. Every one of them, except maybe Lucy. They're gonna go to college, Carlos. They're gonna make something of their lives and this year will be nothing but a bad memory when they look back on it. They're gonna grow up and be doctors, lawyers, pro-hockey players. And you'll still be here in this shit-hole town. If you're lucky, you might still have us to party with."
Carlos tries to ignore his friend's words. "Ms. Tinsley entered me in an art show," he says. "Wednesday night at the museum. You can come if you want. I might win a prize."
Wayne smirks. "Yeah. Maybe we will."
"No matter what happens, I'm so proud of you, mijo." Mrs. Garcia plants a big kiss on Carlos' forehead and adjusts his tie nervously as they stand in the foyer of the museum.
"Thanks, mom," Carlos mumbles back, fidgeting as his mother continues to mess with his tie and brush lint off his jacket.
He feels uncomfortable and nervous and hot and his jacket is itchy and he's starting to wish none of this had ever happened. His parents are going to get their hopes up and be crushed when he inevitably loses, and it'll just be Another Disappointment to add to the list. Even if he wins, then what? It's not like he's going to go to college, or art school or whatever. Wayne was right. He's going to be stuck in this shit-hole town for the rest of his life while everyone moves on.
His friends haven't shown up yet, not even Lucy, but he's not sure whether that's such a bad thing. Maybe it was stupid inviting them all here just to watch him lose.
Logan and Camille show up first, with Lucy and the others not far behind.
Lucy squeezes his hand, saying nothing, and he squeezes it back, ignoring the looks from his parents, who have yet to be officially introduced to his girlfriend. She looks really pretty, he thinks, with her hair pulled away from her face and a light green sweater worn over a black dress and her usual fishnets. The sweater, he knows, is for his parents' benefit. Lucy doesn't care, usually, what people think of the scars on her arms, but that didn't mean she needed to advertise them.
"Carlos, this is really good," Camille says, peering at the sketch pinned to a canvas behind him. "This is the view of the creek and the woods from the top of the slide, isn't it?"
"Oh—thanks. Yeah. You can tell?"
"Totally," Logan adds, staring at the picture too. "You nailed it exactly. Even the way the grass is worn down right there where kids are always sitting. You could totally win something for this."
"Nah," Carlos tries not to let his face redden. "There's a ton of really good stuff out here. Kids who study art and take classes, you know? I won't win. But it was cool of Ms. Tinsley to enter me anyway."
"Don't sell yourself short," Kendall tells him. "You never know what could happen."
"That was bullshit," James declares when he's sure Mr. and Mrs. Garcia are out of earshot. "Your sketches were way better than that stupid painting. It was just a bunch of blotches! What's up with that? Any eight year old could've done that."
"It's called abstract art, James," Logan says while refraining from rolling his eyes.
"Honorable mention is still really good," Camille chimes in. "But James is right, you were robbed. It's such crap that the top three kids all came from that one private school. No one else ever had a chance."
Carlos shrugs. "No big deal." He's trying valiantly to hide his disappointment. He'd known it would be a long shot going in to it… so why was it bugging him so much when he knew he never stood a chance? "But thanks for coming, guys."
"Sure. See you tomorrow, Carlos."
"Later."
"Bye."
When Lucy is the only one left standing with him, she turns to him and speaks. "Why did you pick that drawing to enter?"
"I dunno. I liked it. I spend a lot of time in that park."
"You know you could've won if you'd picked another one."
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I'm talking about. The sketches of us. The ones I saw after I spent the night."
Lucy can practically see the dark cloud settling behind her boyfriend's eyes. Carlos shakes his head. "Those aren't… those are personal."
"You let me see them."
"Of course I did. But those ones… they're not for other people to judge."
"Why not? They're so good, Carlos."
"Because, they're us!" Carlos can't keep the edge out of his voice. "They're us, Lucy. They're memories and moments attached to stories that only we know. I don't need anyone to judge my memories, alright? Giving up those sketches to be judged would be like handing over a diary and having someone edit it for content, you know? It's too close to home. I can't put that much of myself into something and have someone talk to me about shading techniques or whatever. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Lucy nods.
When Kendall walks Jo home after school on Thursday, he can tell that something's on her mind.
"I need to tell you something," she says, as if hearing his thoughts.
"Okay…" Kendall replies slowly, growing apprehensive at the look of distress on his girlfriend's face.
Jo pulls out an envelope from her bag but doesn't give it to him yet. "Last semester, before… well before Jett… happened, I um, I applied early-action to some schools. I still—I love the idea of staying here and taking classes with you next year, and this doesn't change anything, I just thought you should know."
"Yeah." Kendall swallows thickly, nodding along and hating himself for the lack of emotion is giving her right now. How could she not have told him until now that she was weighing other options for school next year?
Jo hands him the envelope and Kendall's eyes widen when he looks at the return address.
"Princeton? You applied to Princeton and didn't say anything? You got in?"
"I'm sorry! I know I should have told you, but I honestly didn't think it would matter, it was such a long shot to get in, and my grades tanked at the beginning of the quarter after everything that happened, so I thought there was no way I'd ever get in and it wouldn't matter if I never said anything to anyone."
Kendall remains silent, unsure of what to say. He knows he should be proud of her, should congratulate her and be happy for her…
"Nothing's been decided yet," she says gently. "I mean, I still have a few weeks to decide."
"But you want to go there, don't you?"
"I did before. I mean, my parents went there and everything, and it just always seemed like something that I would do too. But things change."
"What things? Princeton is like… one of the best schools there is. Of course you'd want to go there."
"Kendall, everything has changed since I applied! I'm not the same person I was six months ago. I have other things to think about now. Stop acting like everything is already finalized."
"Other things like what?" Kendall snorts.
"Like you! Kendall, I wouldn't have made through these past few months without you. You think I'm going to just suddenly throw it all away? It's a good school, but it's not the only school."
Kendall shakes his head, unable to deal with the conversation any longer. "Okay. Whatever. Let's talk about it later, okay? I have to go."
"Kendall."
"Congratulations, Jo. I mean it. I'll see you tomorrow."
Kendall stands and kisses Jo on the forehead before leaving her house, the cool afternoon air sending shivers down his skin.
The entire way home he can't help but think, this is it. It's over, isn't it? He doesn't want her go, but how can he stop her? An opportunity like Princeton University doesn't come along every day.
He decides right then and there that he'll support her no matter what she decides… even if it kills him to do it.
A tad shorter than usual but hopefully still somewhat satisfactory! I'm back! Hiatus over. Plan to be done with this story by the end of March! Thanks for sticking with me! And you know... maybe leave a comment or something. ;)
