Disclaimer: The Among Us universe belongs to InnerSloth LLC and PlayEveryWare. This is a work of fanfiction and is not intended for profit or copyright infringement. I do not own the rights to Among Us or its setting/universe.

Over the next two days the residual tension from the fight lingers like a bad cough. Laughter is scarce and smiles are fleeting and die quickly. Minka has been sentenced to an entire week in confinement and Zale has quickly resumed his usual pomp.

The very first thing he does is assign Quill a new buddy. The odd numbers mean he's joining a group of two existing people, who happen to be myself and Del. I'm more than okay with this arrangement. Not only does it mean I get to spend more time with my brother but it also means Del and I aren't alone together in our cabin anymore. It's a tight fit. With two tall full-grown men and myself squeezing into one cabin, nights aren't super comfortable but I rest knowing that I'm well-protected.

The eight of November dawns just like the rest: dark, cold, and starry. I'm wrapped tightly in my bed sheets, squished between Quill and the wall of the cabin like Sage sandwich. Sharing a bed with my brother leaves very little room for tossing and turning and I'm pretty sure one of my arms has fallen asleep. Quill is the heaviest sleeper I know and only one of two things can wake him up: his bladder and the smell of food. Since I don't control either, I'm not worried about disturbing him as I extricate myself from the blankets and crawl over his snoring form. The LED numbers on the ceiling indicate that it's still fairly early. Del is also asleep, nothing but a shadowy mass on the floor amid the sheets and pillows. Figuring it would be nice to have some alone time with the journal, I slip it out from under the mattress and open the door to the shower stall. I flick on the light, settle in on the tiled floor, and open the journal back to where I last left off. I notice the next entry is much shorter than the one before it and the date indicates that my grandfather skipped a couple days, which doesn't line up with his previous habits at all.

November 30, 3023,

Around this time of year the grateful spirit of Thanksgiving turns into the cheerful attitude of the Christmas Holidays. There were rumors of throwing a party. What strange things, parties. To think that one has zero trouble in the world and would celebrate it with a party.

No parties will be taking place on The Skeld any time soon.

It was Anne who found him. He hadn't shown up for two meals in a row and no one had heard from him. Naturally, we got suspicious and went to search the ship for him. I can still hear Anne's blood-curdling scream, dark blood staining her hands as she burst from the commander's private cabin, tears streaming down her face.

Commander Hawks is dead.

G.K.

I stare at the word dead, dark and ominous against the stark white of the paper. A thrill runs through me and it has nothing to do with the cool air in the shower room. I don't know what I expected but this grisly twist was not it. Fingers trembling, I turn the page and notice the next entry is dated seven days after the thirtieth of November. The handwriting is considerably shakier and messier and blots of ink dot the paper in random places.

December 7th, 3023,

Things aren't the same without the commander. A silence blankets The Skeld, heavy and unyielding. No one smiles and no one laughs. We barely speak to each other anymore. WE just want to get to Polus as soon as possible.

I suppose I should talk about what happened to our mission specialist yesterday. I don't think Aubrey would approve of me recording such grisly events in a journal that's meant to be happy, but Professor Kane was like the glue holding everyone together.

I say 'was' because he's also dead.

He died from a bullet wound. Who the culprit is, we have no idea. All we know is that this trip has turned into a nightmare and it's becoming more trouble than it's worth.

Any one of us could be next.

G.K.

A nightmare. The word resonates deeply within me - sometimes it feels like my own voyage aboard The Skeld has been a nightmare. If I had know the entries were going to take such a dark turn I would have gone to Ebba and asked her more about what she thought.

December 10th, 3023,

Ebba found Dr. Ambrose in the kitchen today.

The details of his death are too gruesome to fathom. I will not explain them here.

The killer is getting braver - their confidence allows them to kill faster and more recklessly. No more are we worried about things like plants and soil samples and Polusian air quality. Every day is a fight for our very lives.

I told Ebba today that I love her.

G.K.

Was it possible that my grandfather's experiences on board were some awful precursor to what was doomed to happen twenty years later? Is history repeating itself?

I don't want to read any further - not right now.

I close the journal and tilt my head back until it hits the wall of the shower room. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. None of it makes any sense. How could there be a monster on The Skeld twenty years ago and another monster - perhaps even the same monster - on board now? Is there some sort of curse? Are we going to reach Polus at all or are we all doomed to die?

A soft knock on the door pulls me from my morbid thoughts. I stand and open the door, finding myself looking into the mesmerizing blue-brown eyes of Del. Our faces are so unintentionally close I feel the breath leave my lungs. He glances down at the journal in my hand and smiles.

"Ah. Should have known. Read anything else interesting?"

Interesting is an understatement. The look on my face must convey the trepidation I feel because he scoots himself into the shower room and I back up, allowing him to close the door with a soft clack behind him. He fixes me with a kind, almost tender stare and I hold up the journal to his eye-level, creating a sort of barrier between our mouths.

"It was the same back then as it is now," I breathe, not sure how to present the news. "They started with twelve people on the crew and then they mysteriously started dying off, one by one. He's recording less and less - only when something happens. He's getting scared - desperate."

"Did you finish reading it?" Del asks gently. "Did you find out what happened in the end?"

I shake my head. "No. I couldn't bear to read any more." It's slightly embarrassing admitting that I was getting uncomfortable but I fight through the blush and add, "We should really go talk to Ebba about this. She's read the whole thing - she'll know more about it. Hell, she knew even before she gave me the journal. I wonder why she didn't say anything..."

Del nods, agreeing with me. "We should definitely go talk to Ebba. We're going to have to tell Quill about the journal, though."

"Yeah, I know. And Kenzo, too. We're going to need an interpreter - I can only read lips to an extent."

"Are you okay with that?"

I sigh resignedly. "I don't really have a choice, do I? If we're living a repeat of history then we need to do everything we can to prevent it from happening all over again. Our lives could depend on -"

Thump.

I pause. The noise came from above us. We look up in unison at the tiny air vent in the ceiling.

Thump. Screeee.

It's the sound of metal scraping against metal and the distant thud of something hitting the wall. I grip the journal so tightly my hands shake. I feel my eyes go wide and my breath comes in short, laborious spurts.

I know that sound.

"Del." My voice breaks, nothing more than a faint whisper. He nods and puts a finger to his lips. Quiet. Then, ever so gently, he eases the journal out of my death grip and places it aside on the floor. I'm shaking like a leaf. The last time I heard that sound my life was spared but it spelled the end for Professor O'Connell. This time around, I have no reason to believe it will skip me again - or Del, for that matter.

For once I'm grateful we're stuck in a tiny room together. Right now all I can think about is the thing moving around in the vents. All I can focus on are my fear and the inevitability of death. I don't want to die. I don't want anyone else to die. I know I'll hate myself for it later, but right now I don't care. I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around Del. He responds immediately, one arm secured around my lower back, the other hand anchored in my hair. My heart is beating fast. Pressed against his chest, I can feel his heart beating fast, too.

Thump. Thump. Screeee.

The noises are quieter now - farther away. Where is it going? Is it going to strike again? Del squeezes me tighter and I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the subtle scent of something light and clean. I have no idea how long we stand like this. I lose track of time, ears straining for more sounds. Eventually Del loosens his grip but doesn't let me go. I don't pull away. Something wet covers my face and I realize I'm crying.

When it seems like the danger has passed I pull away to wipe at my eyes. I press the palms of my hands into my eyeballs, hard, like I think it might bring me anywhere but here. When I remove them the world is slightly blurred and the light of the room is dazzling. Del rubs my back and my heart aches to throw my arms around his neck. I restrain myself. Sniffing, I reluctantly step out of his warm embrace.

"Quill," I croak. I fling the shower door wide open and clatter into the adjoining room. When I see Quill's tall form tangled in the blankets on my bed, chest rising and falling, undisturbed, I exhale heavily. I crawl onto the bed and smother him with a giant hug. He continues to sleep, unaware of my presence.

"Sage," Del says, his voice low, "let's take this journal to Ebba. Wake him up - he's going to come with us."

I nod. Of course, waking Quill up is challenging enough to be an Olympic sport. I start by removing the pillow from beneath his head and untangling his gangly limbs from the thin sheets. I grab his feet and tug, pulling him halfway off the bed so he dangles like a weird doll. I continue to pull until he's off the bed completely. His head bumps the frame of the bed and he sucks in a startled breath, eyes popping open as he scrambles to a crooked but upright position.

"Huh - wha?" He looks around wildly. "Sage? Del? What's going -?"

"Shh!" I shush him and kneel to look him in the eye. "It could still be lurking somewhere in the walls."

"The...walls? What?"

"The noise from the vents. We heard it a few minutes ago. We think it's moving deeper into the ship. But right now I need you to shut up and listen."

He obeys without question. I start by telling him about our grandfather's journal. As I predicted, he looks shocked and hurt that Ebba gave it to me instead of him. The look intensifies when he realizes that Del found out about the journal before he did.

"I didn't want him to - it just happened by accident," I explain hastily.

"Your sister is very bad at sneaking," Del supplies unhelpfully.

"Whatever, none of that matters now," I snap impatiently. "The point is, something was stalking the crew on Polus I and I'm pretty sure it's the same thing that's been haunting us. I don't have any proof but we're going to talk with Ebba about it. We're pretty sure she has answers that the journal alone can't give us."

Quill squints tiredly as he tries to assemble the pieces of information in his had. I'm feeding him a lot of material at once and I can tell he's struggling to keep up. "And you think the drawings in the journal are renderings of the monster that was attacking the Polus I crew?"

"We suspect so," Del nods. "We're not sure what it is, exactly, but the drawings depicted some sort of transformation from human to beast. The notes your grandfather took suggest they're beings of incomparable strength and speed with multiple appendages that can act as lethal weapons."

Quill pales under his mop of unruly brown curls. "And you want to go after this thing?" he says dubiously.

"We want to find out as much about it as possible," I amend gently. "Know your enemy, and all that. So we need you to get up and get changed because we're going to Oxygen to speak with Ebba and you're part of our buddy group now."

Quill's movements are slow and laborious, almost like he doesn't want to find out more about the bloodthirsty beast that's killed off two of his crewmates. About five minutes later the three of us leave the cabin and rush off down the hallway toward the Cafeteria. The hallway is deserted and the curved metal walls disappear into the black shadows of the ceiling above us. It's unwise to make an excessive amount of noise - the ship's rooms have a penchant for echoing and we still don't know where the thing in the vents is. We shuffle-run as quickly as possible without calling too much attention to ourselves. The Cafeteria is likewise empty and by the time we reach Weapons without encountering a single soul, I begin to grow suspicious. Where is everyone? Why does it feel like we're the only souls wandering aimlessly through the hollow metal halls of this ancient ship?

We reach the open door leading to Oxygen, only to find the place deserted. I stick my head inside and look around, careful to avoid being poked by the wriggling vine that has wrapped itself around the doorframe. Ebba isn't here. She must be in the kitchen with Kenzo. I'm about to voice my guess when a strange noise meets our ears. It's a weird sniffling, shuffling sound with uneven footsteps, like someone is limping. It comes from behind us, down the short hallway and around the corner towards Navigation.

We stare as a long, warped shadow flickers upon the wall, announcing the arrival of someone or something making its way closer to us. Then the shadow splits in two and we hear additional pairs of footsteps. The sound of something heavy being dragged joins the footsteps and the three of us draw together tightly. I grip both Quill's and Del's hands and they instinctively step in front of me, shielding me with their bodies.

We watch with bated breath as the first figure turns the corner. Hunched and silver-haired and wearing a forest green space uniform. Ebba. I open my mouth to call out to her, but when she sees us she stops short, her eyes wide. She doesn't look happy to see us. In fact, she looks horrified. She places a hand on her mouth and stops. A second figure appears, walking backwards and bent over at an odd angle, like he's dragging something. He doesn't know Ebba stopped and runs right into her. Kenzo. He grunts in surprise and turns to look at the source of the holdup, sweat breaking out across his brow.

Then he sees us. We watch as his expression turns from strained to confused to scared in the span of a second. He swears and quickly tries to hide whatever it is that he's dragging but it's too late. I can tell by the stretch and the white cotton material that it's a bedsheet - most likely one from Medbay. But something is wrong - that much is plain.

I step forward but Kenzo holds up a hand to stop me.

It takes me about three seconds to realize that the substance smeared across his hand is blood.

"Kenzo?" Quill grips my shoulder and steps forward. "What in the -?"

"What's going on?" a ragged voice demands from around the corner. I recognize it as Zale's. "Kenzo, why did you stop? We need to get him to Medbay as soon as -" the words die in his throat as Commander Zale rounds the corner and sees the three of us standing there, gawking.

He's covered in blood. It soaks the front of his unform and streaks through his golden curls. It pools on the ground by his feet, dripping from his shoes and leaving a bloody trail in his wake. His hands and arms are stained red and his entire body is shaking. His eyes are bright with fear and when he sees me standing there he shouts urgently, "Shit! Keep here away! Kenzo, keep her away from him!"

My stomach drops out from beneath me. Surely this is the work of the thing we heard crawling through the vent. Ignoring Zale's protests, I rush forward, intent on helping whoever it is that's bleeding all over the floor. All three of them - Zale, Kenzo, and Ebba - stand shoulder to shoulder, blocking my path.

"What the hell is going on?!" I feel hands grab my arms and shoulders. At first I only protest slightly, barely noticing the pressure. Then my gaze travels down to the floor where Kenzo and Zale have dropped the sheet. It's white, but not for long. Most of it has been dyed deep red and resting on top of it is a hand that I recognize.

A hand attached to a bright orange sleeve.

It's in those few moments of tense silence when the world slows to a crawl and I register what I'm seeing. At first it makes no sense. Why are they dragging Dr. Barnett around on a bloody sheet? Then the truth strikes home and my world turns upside down.

I let out a blood-curdling shriek and lurch forward. The hands on my arms tighten and I'm just barely restrained. I scream and scream and scream until my throat is sore. I scream through the pain and the confusion and the razor blades tearing up my throat. I barely notice Zale as he tries to push Dr. Barnett's body out of my line of sight. I thrash and twist, trying to free myself from Quill and Del, who struggle to keep their hold on me. Kenzo stands stock-still, unsure what to do. Ebba moves forward, one hand on her chest and the other held out placatingly towards me. She cups the side of my face with her warm, wrinkled hand and that's the last straw.

The hallway blurs. Colors bleed into each other. Tears pours down my face. A high-pitched ringing pierces my consciousness. I collapse onto the floor, dragging Del and Quill down with me. "LET ME GO!" I screech, clawing and biting indiscriminately. My nails catch on one of their hands and I feel a chunk of skin pull away beneath my fingernails. I don't care. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care. Someone shouts my name. It sounds muffled and distant. I kick out and my foot connects with something solid. There's a grunt and the hand releases me. Scrabbling like a crazed crab, I crawl over the hard floor to where Dr. Barnett lies on the bloody sheet.

Nobody tries to stop me.

What I see only makes me scream harder. He lies on his back, one arm slung across his chest and the other splayed out above his head. There are so many wounds in his torso it's impossible to staunch the bleeding. It's everywhere. I approach his side, slipping and sliding on the slick floor, and cup the sides of his face with my hands. Fresh tears flow harder and faster down my face. His glasses are cracked and hang crooked on his face. I scream again, rocking back and forth as the sobs come in waves.

"NO!" I barely register the words coming out of my mouth. "NO! STOP! YOU CAN'T BE DEAD! PLEASE! PLEASE!" A horrible, wrenching wail tears from my mouth and I press my forehead against his, feeling the warm wet stickiness of the blood as it adheres itself to my hands and cheeks and hair. My nose stings with the sharp metallic stench of iron. "Come back to me!" I plead, hysterical, gripping his head, my tears falling onto his face and mingling with the blood. "Come back to me, please! Please! I...I can't do this on my own!"

I don't know how long I sit there, crouched next to my childhood hero and friend - my mentor - sobbing and retching over his lifeless form. Eventually the screaming catches up with me and I feel exhaustion tugging on my muscles. The tears continue to flow but not as heavily. The spinning hallway slowly comes back into focus and I notice for the first time that Dr. Barnett's eyes are still open, dark and lifeless and staring, unseeing, at the shadowy ceiling. With a shaking hand I reach out and remove his glasses, close his eyelids, and wipe away the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm s-so sorry," I whisper in a wobbly voice. "I'm s-so so sorry. I f-failed you. I sh-should have b-been there for you..." Fatigue closes my throat and I can say no more, so I do the only thing left that I can. I lie down on the bloody floor next to him and curl into a tight ball, closing my eyes against the cruel world.

Footsteps. Voices. Hands on my arms - gentle this time. Someone says my name. I keep my eyes tightly closed. More voices. Arms slipping beneath me and lifting me off the floor. My head lolls against my shoulder, my body bumping gently with the footsteps. The voices begin to fade and soon all I can hear is the steady tapping of someone's feet on the floor.

At some point my eyes open briefly and I recognize the dark blue fabric and the soft smell of something clean, gentle on my senses after all the blood. The harsh lights hurt my eyes so I close them again. Where are you taking me? I try to speak but my lips are cracked and swollen and refuse to part. My tongue is dry in my mouth and I release an unexpected sob, feeling the tears run wet tracks down my face.

Eventually his footsteps stop. The sound of a door opening. A few more footsteps and another door opening. He lowers me gently to the floor. There's a rustling sound, some grunting, and hands on the front of my space uniform as they unzip it. At this point I don't really care what's going on or why he's trying to take my clothes off. I just let it happen, limp and useless and alone.

All alone...

There's a squeak, a sharp hiss, and my entire body is doused in cold water. A strangled gasp escapes my lips and I feel him prop me up on his knee. The water runs clear and pure from the ceiling, swirling dark and red around the drain on the floor. It's not comfortable but it's refreshing and I feel the pounding in my temples subside. Hands scrub my hair, wipe my face and neck, wash my arms and rub my hands. I remember the blood everywhere and my stomach pangs with guilt.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper.

The hands pause briefly. Then the weirdest thing happens. He leans in and kisses my temple, briefly and tenderly. A whisper next to my ear. "Just rest, Sage."

Rest sounds great. My eyes flutter closed again and I lean into him, relishing the cool caress of the water as it washes away the pain and the grief.

And that's the last thing I remember.

When I wake up I'm warm and cold at the same time. Warm because of the fresh sheets tucked up against my chin. Cold because I'm in nothing but a tank top and shorts. Warm because someone sits on the bed next to me. Cold because I remember what happened.

The memories rush back, relentless and full of pain. My eyes open, crusty and sticky, and the blurry image of Del swims into focus. My head feels like it's full of cotton balls and my tongue is twice its normal size, the texture of sandpaper. I try to move a hand by my muscles feel like they've been pumped full of lead. Every movement is agony so I lie still and try not to speak.

Del sees my open my eyes, his expression unbearable. I scan his face, pleading, willing him to tell me that it was all just a dream. He reads the question in my eyes and shakes his head.

"I'm so sorry, Sage."

Tears sting my eyes, spilling hot and fresh down my face. I swallow the lump in my throat and gaze past Del's shoulder into the empty space, feeling nothing and everything all at once. I lie there, crushed and delirious, too weak to even lift my head, wondering what the point is of it all.

Why are we even here? Are we doing the right thing? Nothing matters anymore. The mission failed a long time ago. We're all going to die on this broken hunk of metal drifting through space and no one will ever know what happened...

For some reason my tears dry up instantly at the thought. It's not a matter of finding out what's going on - now it's just a matter of survival. But without Dr. Barnett working by my side, my will to survive has dwindled to nearly nothing.

"How are you feeling?" Del asks the question hesitantly and it's clear he knows the words are empty. He doesn't need to ask to know how I'm feeling. He's doing it out of courtesy - out of the need to say something - and I have to force the bitter, spiteful retort out of my head before it slips out.

"Exhausted," I murmur, still staring into the middle-distance. I haven't blinked and I feel my eyes begin to burn. Del slides off the bed and kneels on the floor so he's at eye level with me. Both of his hands cover mine, bringing with them an incredible warmth. My muscles twitch. My eyes flick back to his. "Where is Quill?"

"He's with Commander Zale, cleaning the hallways. Everyone is."

"Why aren't you with them?"

His brow furrows, like he thinks I'm being stupid on purpose. "I'm not about to leave you alone, am I? They're all worried about you."

"And where...where is...he?"

The wrinkles in Del's face softens and he squeezes my hand. "They cleaned him up the best they could. He's in Medbay being...prepared."

I should be out there helping. I'm a nurse. I'm a professional. I shouldn't be lying in bed, weak and helpless, while the others are slaving away. I dig deep and manage to find the barest hint of strength - enough to slowly lift my head and shoulders from the pillow - but Del puts a hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me back down.

"Absolutely not. You're going to rest."

A flash of indignation flares in my chest. Since when does Del have the authority to tell me what to do? But then a white-hot pain bursts in my head and my vision goes spotty. I flop back onto my pillow and squeeze my eyes shut, grimacing.

There's a short pause and then I say quietly, "What happened to him?"

"I don't know the details. All I know is that he and Commander Zale were walking in the hallway when he was attacked from behind. He must have been dragged off and killed without Zale noticing. Also...they found the weapon. It was Minka's dagger - the one she accused Zale of stealing."

My stomach wrenches and I open my eyes. Del's face is mere inches from mine. This close I can see the different shades of blue in his left eye, the right one a dark brown pool with tiny flecks of gold.

"What?"

"I know. Zale is furious. He's convinced Minka killed him, even though she's been locked up."

I stare at him, trying and failing to process this new and horrible pieces of information. This certainly doesn't bode well for Minka, but how could she have done it? Even if she was a monster in disguise, what could she possibly have against Dr. Barnett? The tears threaten to spill again and I bite my lip, forcing them away. He was the most likeable person on the ship - everyone got along with him and he was the least selfish person I knew.

Intense, conflicting emotions flare inside my chest, battling for precedence. Frustration at feeling stuck and useless. Relief at being free to slip back into unconsciousness whenever the pain becomes too much to bear...

A tear slips from the corner of my eye before I can stop it. Del brushes it away with his thumb and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I relax at his touch. He continues to stroke my hair, slow and comforting. I hold his hand against my cheek and lean into his touch. My other hand touches the corner of his blue eye, sliding down his cheek and resting at the corner of his mouth. My thumb traces across his bottom lip.

"Sage..." he sighs quietly, his warm breath tickling my hand. He angles his head to capture my fingers and kiss my knuckles. A small, sad smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

"I don't care what people think," I whisper so quietly the words are barely audible. "Not anymore."

He nods, smiling a little. His hand slides to the back of my head and tangles itself in my hair. He pulls my face towards his and I close my eyes as our lips meet. It's gentle and sweet and slightly chapped. Seconds tick by in time to my heartbeat. Too soon he pulls away - just far enough for our lips to part but our noses to touch.

Fire burns in my veins and I refuse to let him go. I run my fingers through his hair and pull him in for another kiss. He responds by smiling against my mouth, leaning in and angling his face to fit snug and warm against mine. I savor every second, breathing him in, banishing each negative thought that fights to pervade my mind. The only thing I let myself think about right now is Del. His scent, his touch, and the way he nibbles my bottom lip. A thrill shoots through me, the flames beneath my skin flaring brighter.

I'm a professional. I am here to colonize space and carry out my grandfather's legacy...but that doesn't mean I can't make sweet memories along the way.

We pull away for the second time and there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before. I feel the warm stir of something in my chest. Unbidden, the image of Lenna swims into my mind, her brown doe eyes wide as saucers as she demands to tell me every last detail. I smile at the thought.

It's a welcome distraction. Dr. Barnett is still dead and the gaping hole in my chest isn't going to be fixed with a kiss, but I can finally relax around Del and that's enough for now.

The thought buoys my mood and we allow ourselves a moment to revel in the giddiness. I scoot over on the bed and gesture for him to join me. He does with a shy smile, leveraging his tall frame up onto the mattress. He's significantly larger than Quill and even with my slight form there's zero wiggle room. I press myself into his chest and we wrap our arms and legs around each other. I close my eyes against the world and let myself drift into a blissful state of calm.

"You're brave," he murmurs into my hair. "I admire that about you."

The words are flattering coming from him. If Del thinks I'm brave then I must truly be underestimating myself.

"I'm brave for other people," I reply. "For Quill and Dr. Barnett and Lenna...for you. I don't feel brave but if I pretend long enough it's got to eventually be true, right?"

He laughs and I feel the vibration in his chest. "Don't sell yourself short. You're a strong woman and you're going to get through this."

I let his words wash over me, chasing away all doubt for the time being. He's right. I can still count my blessings. I don't want to lose sight of the good in my life. I will continue to mourn Dr. Barnett in my own way, but I am determined to continue living my life in honor of my grandfather's memory. I refuse to let myself waste away in the face of death.

Instead, I will number the reasons for living.