I come up with the best, most creative chapter titles, don't I? Lol, no.

Friday, October 11th, 2008

International Waters

The lights were off when Dean and Sam returned to the cabin. Sam flicked them back on and they were immediately met with the sounds of a dying cat. How Skye was able to produce such an unnatural sound, they didn't know, but it did serve to inform them that nothing had changed since they left her behind to scrounge up dinner.

After the incident in the crew mess, the two Winchesters brought Skye right back to the cabin. They had tried to offer to stay back and help Oswin clean up the mess, but she assured them that she could take care of it. All they needed to worry about was to get Skye as close to the bathroom as they could before the next round of vomiting hit, and there was going to be a next round.

They'd just barely made it back to the cabin when it did. Once Sam got the door open, Skye bolted straight for the bathroom. With no obstructions in her way, she was successful in making it to the toilet this time. For the next ten to fifteen minutes, the Winchester brothers had to put up with the horrible sounds of Skye retching intermittently broken up by her gasps as she struggled to breathe. They'd try to help her – hold her hair back or something – but the bathroom was only big enough to handle one person at a time. So all they could do was silently sit on the loveseat and hope that she didn't start choking to death on her own vomit.

Eventually, Skye's retching ceased and she was able to emerge from the bathroom. She stumbled around awkwardly like a newborn deer just figuring out how to use its legs until she found the waste basket. She wrapped her arms around it like it was the sole buoy keeping her afloat in the storm and clung to it even as she sat down on the bed and fell over onto her side. Sam tried asking if she was okay, but they were met with no response. The two brothers exchanged a concerned look before getting up to check on her.

Pressing two fingers to her jugular vein, Dean confirmed that she still had a pulse seconds before a few sickly, ragged snores escaped her. She wasn't dead, her body had just given out under the strain of her sickness. She just needed her sleep. Still, Dean felt it necessary to move his hand from her neck to her forehead. To his surprise, she felt clammy rather than hot. Given the piss-poor excuse for air conditioning they had on this boat, he expected her to be sweating up a storm, or at the very least be a little feverish, but apparently not.

Seeing as Skye appeared to be down for the count and they didn't have the slightest idea what was happening with her, the brothers moved on to a problem that they could solve; food. Between them, Sam and Dean only had four fives, a ten, a twenty, and a handful of ones. Unfortunately, all of that accumulated would only pay for one meal for one night, so they were going to have to get creative. They had unlimited tap water from the bathroom sink along with plastic cups, so dehydration wasn't a concerned. However, they still needed to eat.

Around the corner from their cabin was a set of vending machines. They didn't offer many healthy options (much to Sam's displeasure) but at least it was available to them and had items priced at a dollar or under. They got crackers in hopes that it would help to settle Skye's stomach, but the rest mostly consisted of different types of chips and candy. It wouldn't fill them up the way a proper dinner would, but at least they had something to put in their stomachs.

Once they had enough goodies to hold them over, the Winchesters returned to the room. They had hoped something would have changed for the better in the ten minutes they'd been gone, but that must have been too much to ask for. Skye appeared to be somewhat aware, but it was hard to tell if that was a good or bad thing.

Dean wasn't going to wait to find out. He tapped Skye on the calf, making her groan yet again.

"Hey," he said, trying to grab her attention. "You awake?"

"No," Skye answered in a weak, sleep-laden voice. "…Think 'm dead."

"Nope," Dean said, taking a knee in front of her. "You're not that lucky."

While Dean had been trying to bring Skye around, Sam had gone into the bathroom and filled a plastic cup with water. Stepping back into the room, he tapped the cup against the back of Skye's hand, hoping that the feeling of the cooled plastic against her skin might help to rouse her.

"There's a cup of water here if you need it."

Skye made another distressed sounding noise but was finally stirred into action. She finally unwrapped her arms from around the waste basket and scrubbed at her face with the heel of her hand. Slowly, she lowered the waste basket on to the ground and forced herself to sit up. Then, she took the cup from Sam's hand and cautiously took a small sip.

"Ah," she said, pulling the cup away from her mouth and handing it back to Sam. "Refreshing."

"How are you feeling?" Skye scoffed at Sam's question.

"Really?" she said. "You really need to ask that?"

"Yes." Skye rolled her eyes.

"Like crap, genius," she said. "What did you expect?"

"How exactly do you feel like crap?" Sam clarified. "It might give us some idea of how to help you."

Skye huffed, but Dean could tell that this wasn't out of annoyance. No, this was her trying to suppress pain.

"I have cramps," she said. "I feel sticky. My stomach's rolling around all crazy. The vibrations are just so weird…"

"Vibrations?" Dean questioned. Skye's eyes flashed wide for a couple of seconds.

"Yeah," she said surprisingly quickly. "It just doesn't feel natural, going up and down, side to side…"

"So, you're seasick," Sam concluded.

"No shit," Skye said before clearing her throat. "I don't understand this. I've been on the Staten Island Ferry plenty of times before and I've never gotten sick."

"Well, it's a bigger boat," Sam pointed out. "And we're on the actual ocean. All of that has to be having an effect on you."

"Plus, all your girl problems and stuff…" Dean made some vague hand gesture that he wasn't entirely sure the meaning of. Skye rolled her eyes again and laid back down on her side, pulling the pillow down to take the place of the waste basket in her arms.

"It's called a period, jackass," she said. "It's not a swear word. We can call it what it is."

"Speaking of which, how are you handling that?" Skye shot Sam a look at the awkward avoidance of the word. "I know you wanted to get back to shore because you didn't have anything…" Skye sighed.

"The one tampon that I had soaked through, so I had to take it out," she explained. "All I can do is line my underwear with toilet paper and throw them out as soon as we get back on dry land. Is that what you wanted to know?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. They weren't going to win here, and they clearly weren't doing anything to help. The best thing they could do was retreat.

"Well, uh, get some rest," Dean said. "Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

"Uh-huh," Skye murmured slightly despondently as she got comfortable. Looking back at Sam, Dean just shrugged.

"Okay," Sam said, taking a step towards the nightstand. "I'm just going to put your cup of water on the table next to you. There're some crackers there, too, if you want them."

Skye made another weak noise of agreement, but that was the only indication they got that she was listening. Sam put her water and the food where he said they would be before he and Dean started to back away. They retreated to the small dining set along the opposite wall. Dean looked back at Skye one last time. She didn't move. Within a few moments, her breathing slowly evened out, signaling that she had started to drift off to sleep.

"Well," Dean said. "Looks like she's down for the count."

"You do realize she only pushed herself because you made it seem like she had no choice." Dean scoffed at her assessment.

"She isn't always going to have a choice," Dean said. "She's gonna have to learn to play through the pain eventually. Besides, I didn't realize she was that sick. Thought she was exaggerating."

"Dean, girls don't fake things like that," Sam said. "At least, not to that degree. If they do, they say, 'I have my period' and leave it at that, and that's usually to get out of things like swimming or running."

"Oh?" Dean questioned. "And since when were you an expert on girls and their periods." Sam huffed as he started to open a granola bar that was (sadly, for him) probably closer to being candy than anything healthy.

"I lived with a woman for a year and a half," he pointed out. "That's more than you have."

"Uh, Mom," Dean pointed out.

"That doesn't count," Sam said. "She was our mother. She wasn't going to let you see the ugly side of things."

With the image of his mother menstruating now in his mind, Dean shuddered and rushed to move the conversation on to another topic.

"Either way," he said. "We didn't find what we were looking for. No sign of the shapeshifter."

"Yeah, about that…" Dean's expression hardened as those words came out of Sam's mouth. In a show of exasperation, Sam dropped his granola bar on the table and shook his head. "Look, I think at this point it's obvious that there's nothing here."

"Sam, you saw that shifter's skin," Dean said.

"Yeah, and it was a week old and almost completely decomposed," Sam said. "I'm not saying there was never a shifter here – there clearly was – but they're long gone now!"

"So, what, you're saying you want to just give up?" Dean asked.

"I'm saying that there's not a hunt here," Sam said. "Maybe there was a week ago, but not now. I don't think we should be wasting our time pursuing something that we know isn't here. Not when we could be trying to get back onto dry land."

"Well how do you plan on doing that?" Dean asked. "We have no phone signal, so we can't reach Bobby. We can't call the Coast Guard 'cause they'll know we're bullshitting about being FBI agents."

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said. "But there's got to be some way to get off this ship. I can't be stuck on this boat for three days."

"Why not?" Suddenly, Sam had that same look in his eyes as Skye did when Dean asked about the vibrations.

"I left some things that I want in the car, too, alright," he said.

"What exactly?" Dean asked.

"Just some of my stuff," Sam said. "It's not a big deal. I'll be fine."

Dean gave Sam a skeptical look, but it was completely ignored as Sam suddenly became very interested in eating his "granola" bar. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to make his brother spit out whatever was wrong, Dean grabbed a candy bar off the table and forcibly ripped it open.

He didn't like this. Everyone was hiding something from him. He didn't know what it was or even if it was the same thing, but they were hiding it. Skye, he somewhat understood. She didn't know them, and they didn't know her, so she had no reason to be a hundred percent honest with them. Sam, however… He'd been hiding something ever since Dean came back, and he had a feeling it was more than just Ruby. It might be a sick, anxiety-laden feeling, but as far as Dean could tell it hadn't been wrong yet.

Please be wrong, he thought. Please be wrong.

Dean kept repeating that in his head until he found himself at least somewhat believing it. He ate his candy bar as well as a few other junk snacks as he waited for his metabolism to decide it was time to go to bed.

When that time did come, he and Sam found spots on the floor that seemed comfortable enough to fall asleep on. Since Skye was sick and already passed out, they let her stay where she was on the bed. Although Sam did steal the other pillow she wasn't using and brought it to his spot. Dean, meanwhile, made his own by folding up his suit jacket. They left the lights on in case Skye needed to get to the bathroom fast. It wasn't the most comfortable way to fall asleep, but both Winchester brothers found a way to put up with it.

"Ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be; what my true happiness could even look like, and I never found an answer. Because the one thing I want… It's something I know I can't have."

Dean shot up, his breathing ragged. He recognized the dream as soon as it started and fought to wake himself up. This was the first time he'd been successful in doing so, though. Normally, he'd be forced to sit through the whole thing from start to finish. He supposed the uncomfortable sleeping conditions made it easier to do so, but he couldn't be sure.

Sitting up, Dean took stock of his surroundings. Sam was still asleep in his chosen spot on the floor, while Skye had spread out a bit more comfortably on the bed. Dean noticed that the comforter and sheets had been knocked to the floor and decided to get up to check on her.

Rounding her bedside, Dean saw that she was pale and sweating. She'd shed her dress-shirt and shucked off the blankets to cool off, but it hadn't worked. Gently, he pressed the back of his hand against Skye's forehead. Thankfully, she didn't stir, but she felt just as clammy as she had when he checked earlier. Unfortunately, the only thing he could do for her was make sure that the waste basket was within reach. After all, it wasn't like they had access to fever reducers or even something as basic as ice.

Moving away from Skye, Dean went to check on Sam next. His brother was sleeping peacefully, or at least as peacefully as one could on the floor of a cruise ship. Since Skye had decided she was too hot for blankets, Dean picked one up and draped it across the younger Winchester's prone form. He heard Sam grumble something, but otherwise he didn't rouse. Dean was grateful for that, especially since he didn't want to explain to anyone where he was going.

Slipping out of the room, Dean headed down the hall towards the main deck. He was sure he had seen a bar onboard and that presented him with the perfect opportunity to earn some money. Sure, it had been five, six years since he had last reduced himself to this, but it couldn't be too hard. He was on a couple's cruise. There had to be at least one lonely schmuck willing to pay for a good night, or a couple willing to fork over some dough to spice up theirs. It didn't matter to Dean. If he could get the money to make this trip just a little less miserable, then it'd be completely worth it.

Saturday, October 12th, 2008

Bahamian Waters

Sam woke up with a thick sheen of sweat coating his body. Dread started building up within him. He couldn't be going through withdrawal already, could he? Flipping back onto his back, his worries were quelled when he saw the reason for all the sweating. The comforter had somehow ended up on top of him in his sleep.

Thank God, he thought as he tossed the blanket to the side. Slowly he sat up and wiped the sweat from his brow. He might be safe for now, but Sam knew that the withdrawal was going to kick-in sooner rather than later. The worst part was, he didn't know how bad it was going to get.

When he and Ruby were hunting down Lilith, he'd had unlimited access to Ruby's blood. Every time he started feeling the effects wearing off, all he had to do was ask and she would provide. She did warn him that if he tried to go too long without it, he'd be in for a rough time, but Sam hadn't taken it seriously until that night she had shown up at Bobby's. Then, he'd only progressed to chills and trembling. If she hadn't shown up when she did, then who knows what would have come next. Sam certainly didn't.

However, he wasn't going to find out just yet. Making his best attempt to feel his own pulse, Sam reasoned that it seemed steady enough. He reckoned that he probably had under a day before the first side effects kicked in. Once that happened, he'd only be able to hide it for so long…

Forcing himself to stand up, Sam shook off the thoughts before he could allow them to consume him. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it. Worrying like that would just make him paranoid. Besides, it wasn't like he was running low on things to worry about.

The first thing Sam noticed once he got his bearings was that Dean was gone. He wasn't on his spot on the floor and the bathroom door was wide open with no one inside. The discovery left Sam with a sense of dread. He had no doubts that his brother was getting into trouble somewhere on the ship. Already he could picture Dean getting arrested for stealing food from the galley or trying to hijack a lifeboat so they could make their escape. Whatever he was doing, Sam could only hope that he didn't get caught. God only knew what kind of prison people got sent to for committing crimes at sea.

If that wasn't enough, Sam just had to take one look at Skye to be hit with a whole other batch of problems. Her clothes and her hair were damp with sweat, and despite the fact that her pants were black, Sam could still see some staining. A part of him wanted to wake her up and get her into the shower to clean herself up, but then they'd have to figure out what she could do for clothes. Even if they had access to a laundry machine, the clothes were well past the point of saving. They also couldn't force her to get back into those clothes. Not only would it be cruel, but it would also completely erase the point of having a shower in the first place.

So, that left them all stuck between a rock and a hard place, and Skye specifically between a rock and an uncomfortable place. The only thing that could make this better was getting off the boat. Sam might not have been able to get a signal the day before, but they had to be close to the Bahamas by this point. Maybe they'd be within enough range to get a call through to Bobby.

Resolving to head out on deck to try to catch a signal, Sam jotted down a note for Skye explaining where he went and headed out into the hallway. He followed the signs that directed towards the main deck and was met with shock as he stepped before the exterior archway. The sky was a shade of gray very close to black, and rain was coming down in sheets. It looked like a hurricane out there.

Sam really shouldn't have been surprised, though. He had felt the boat oddly rocking and had written it off as his imagination, mostly in hopes that he wasn't becoming seasick, too. Still, he couldn't help but think that maybe this was just a small squall that would be over shortly. However, if the deep boom of thunder and the ominous flash of lightning didn't squash that idea, the announcement that came over the PA system did.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Captain Avellino's voice crackled over the sound system. "Due to inclement weather, we will be unable to make our scheduled stop in Freeport. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you. We will continue our route to Nassau and make port there as scheduled tomorrow morning. In recompence we will be providing food and entertainment in the main lounge for any interested passengers. For your own safety, we ask that you refrain from stepping out onto any of the decks. Imperial Ocean Lines and VHR Tours thank you for your patience and understanding."

Reluctantly, Sam backed away from the archway. As desperate as he was to get off the boat, he knew it wasn't worth the risk. Even if he could get a call through, there was no way anyone would be able to rescue them in this weather. He had no other choice but to accept that at least for the next twenty-four hours, they were stuck on this ship.

Once he felt he had gotten far enough away from the door, Sam slumped against the wall, knocking his head against it for good measure. He had no way to get to his flask of Ruby's blood, no way to prevent the inevitable headaches, and no way of hiding it from Dean once the pain had finally set in. In other words, he was royally screwed.

Sam groaned as he pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. He didn't realize he wasn't alone until he heard an accented female voice speak up.

"Don't get so down, mate. It's not that bad." Sam looked up and saw Oswin standing a few feet from him. She was smiling, but it seemed to be for his benefit as stress was radiating from her in waves. "At least you don't have to entertain over two hundred pissed-off cruise goers."

Sam shrugged. That might be bad, but his situation was still worse.

"I was gonna try to make a phone call, but I don't think I'm gonna get a signal unless I go out in that." He gestured out the archway and into the storm. Oswin shuddered.

"Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that, though," she said. "Mobile signals are never good unless we're close to Florida."

"You're kidding," Sam said, but Oswin's expression made it clear that she was not. "Well, is there any other way we can get into contact with people on land? Like a payphone or something, because we don't have a phone in our room." Oswin shook her head.

"No," she said. "No phones. I'm pretty sure this ship was built before even the telegraph was invented."

That just sunk Sam's hopes even further. Sure, this might be an old ship, but not to even have payphones…

Oswin took notice of the distressed look on his face and frowned.

"If it's an emergency, I'm sure the captain can help you," she said. "If not with phone service, I know he can radio back to our main offices."

"Thanks, but the captain is the reason we're stuck on this boat in the first place."

Oswin asked what he meant by that, and Sam gave her the condensed, censored version. They had no passports, no luggage, and weren't even supposed to be there. The story should have left her in disbelief, but she didn't seem all that surprised that Captain Avellino would pull a stunt like this. Clearly this wasn't the first shady thing he'd ever done.

"Look, I'm sorry this happened to you," she said. "I have to set up guest activities right now, but if you need anything I'd be happy to help."

Sam perked up at the offer. He didn't think she could do much to help him, but Skye…

"Actually," he said, catching Oswin's attention before she walked away. "I don't think you can help me, but you can definitely help someone else."

When Skye woke up, the first thing she did was fall out of bed racing to get to the waste basket. She missed. The only bright side was she didn't get it on anything but the carpet. The old, old, cheese puff orange carpet. Disgusting.

Speaking of disgusting, that was the only word in the English dictionary that could exactly describe how she was feeling. Disgusting. She could tell that she had bled through both her underwear and her pants, her skin was sticky with sweat, and her head was pounding like it never had before. The only thing she could imagine that was worse than how she felt was how she smelled. The only mercy she had on that front was that she probably didn't smell as bad to herself as she did to others. It made her feel sorry for Sam and Dean.

Climbing back onto the bed, Skye just had to take one look around to realize that the brothers were gone. The only evidence that they had been there were the pillow and discarded blazer on the floor. Other than that, Skye could have honestly thought that she had spent the night in this room alone. She wouldn't be surprised that she did.

Skye sighed. She had gotten the sense that Sam and Dean had been grossed out by her the night before and she couldn't blame them. She was grossed out by herself. What she was experiencing wasn't normal. Not for her, and she was suspecting that it wasn't normal for most women either. Going into this, she knew this period was going to be a bad one. Every period she's had since May was far lighter than usual so it was predictable that she'd be in for something bad, but she really didn't expect that it would be this bad.

The easiest explanation was that the combination of the tropical heat, the motions of the boat, and the resulting sea sickness all factored in with the bad period she was already expecting and culminated in an absolute monster of one. It made sense, but for some reason Skye just couldn't think that was the end of it. Call it paranoia, but she had to think that these powers – whatever they were – were factoring in somehow, too. They already seemed to give her low tolerance for everyday vibrations. Maybe the vibrations from the boat's engine and the rocking sea below were just too much for her.

Almost as if on cue, Skye's stomach lurched and caused her to buckle forward. She gagged, but fortunately nothing came up. It felt horrible, but at least she didn't ruin the bed. That was a bright side.

Finally realizing that she might be in real trouble, Skye forced herself to get off the bed and stand. Easier said than done, though, because as soon as she did her knees buckled underneath her. She hit the floor hard and black spots began to fill her vision. However, she didn't give up.

Crawling on her hands and knees, Skye made it to the cabin's door and reached up to the handle. She used it as leverage to pull herself into a fully standing position. That probably wasn't the brightest idea but having the door in front of her kept her from falling forward again.

Skye waited until the black spots cleared from her vision before she tried moving. She took a step back and while she still felt light-headed, she didn't think she'd fall again. At least, not any time soon.

Pulling open the door, Skye stepped out into the hallway. It was only once the door clicked shut behind her that she realized that she had no idea where to go. She couldn't be sure where Sam and Dean went, and beyond that she didn't even know if there was a doctor onboard to help her. Still, she felt sure that she couldn't wait. Figuring that heading towards the main deck was her best option, Skye turned in that direction.

For the first few minutes, Skye did good. She made it about twenty feet down the hallway before her knees threatened to buckle again. From that point, she had to support herself against the wall and even that didn't help much. Slowly, she started slumping more and more, and her head started to ring with a deep sense of dizziness.

Eventually, she came to a four-way intersection. If she wanted to get to the main deck, she was going to have to make a left turn. That meant she had to let go of the wall.

No problem, she told herself. I can do this.

Pushing herself away from the wall, Skye managed to make two stumbling steps forward before she started to fall. She tried to reach for the corner of the wall diagonally across from her, but she didn't make it. She collapsed right in the middle of the intersection, her hand just barely brushing the wall.

The first thing she tried to do once she hit the ground was trying to get back up, but as she tried to push herself off the ground, black spots filled her vision and all her strength left her. She fell on her face again and completely blacked out.

Skye eventually came back to some form of awareness, though she had no idea how long she was out for. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids stubbornly refused to budge. The same was the case for the rest of her body. For all intents and purposes, she was weightless and almost completely paralyzed. The only things she could move without feeling like she was going to lose consciousness were her fingers. Obviously, that wasn't going to be of much use to her.

Opening her mouth, Skye tried to scream but all that came out was a low, pained groaning sound. Not enough to catch someone's attention, but it's not like it mattered anyway. No one was around that could hear her. She was going to have to either wait for someone to come across her or die right there on the floor. Given the amount of pain she was in, Skye couldn't deny the appeal of the latter option.

She spent a long time lying on that floor. She wasn't quite sure exactly how long, but it was longer than was necessary. Skye tried to move a few more times but was completely unable to do so. By the time she felt the vibrations of footsteps approaching her, Skye was close to giving up.

Skye couldn't discern much about the person that was approaching her. Her brain was too muddled to even try to make a guess. All she could tell was that they were coming from the same direction that she had come from, when they noticed her, their pace significantly sped up.

"Oh my God, are you okay? Ma'am? Ma'am?"

Skye tried to say something, but the most she was able to get out was a low, pained groan. She felt the person check her pulse and try to rouse her by gently jostling her shoulder. She somehow found it in herself to open her eyes, but not much more than that. The person cursed and moments later Skye heard the crackling of a radio. Voices were speaking, but she couldn't make out what was being said. She was more concerned about staying conscious.

Despite her best efforts, Skye must have blacked out for a moment because the next thing she knew, she was being hauled to her feet. Her rescuer had draped one of her arms over their shoulders and had one hand securing her waist to their side. Blinking, Skye worked as hard as she could to get a word out.

"Where…?" was all she could manage to get out. Luckily, that was all her rescuer needed to hear to know that she was awake and aware.

"It's okay, ma'am," the person said. "I'm taking you down to the medical bay right now. You have nothing to worry about." Skye could make an argument to the contrary, but she assumed that they just meant they weren't intending to harm her. Speaking of which, she should find out who they were.

"Mm, who're…?" was the most she was able to slur out before her mouth started feeling like it was filled with cotton balls.

"What was that?" Skye cleared her throat and did her best to wet her mouth. It didn't do much to make her feel better, but she hoped it would keep her voice from giving out.

"Who're you?" she asked, proud to be able to get out something.

"Oh," they said. "My name is Ed Clarke and I'm a steward. I'm going to take you to the medical bay on deck five. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Skye confirmed, but it wasn't like she had much choice. It was either that or die.

"Okay," Ed said, readjusting his grip to make carrying Skye a bit easier. "Are you alright being carried like this, or should we do it another way?"

"I'm fine," she said, not wanting to be a burden. Though, that probably wasn't the best idea. As soon as they started moving, Skye had a hard time keeping her feet from dragging on the ground.

She tried her best to keep in-step with Ed but found it difficult. Eventually, all the energy zapped out of her, and she tumbled to the ground, taking Ed with her. Before everything went black, she absently wondered if Sam and Dean had noticed she was gone and if they were worried.

Probably not, she decided.

Not gonna lie, this work was originally planned to be eight chapters long, but somewhere along the way it ballooned up to thirteen. I don't know how that happened. My best guess is that I couldn't stop rambling. There was so much that I balled up and threw it away because I felt like I wasted a lot of words saying nothing. I hate that feeling. It stresses me out and makes me feel sad. In the end, though, I think it paid off. As long as you – the reader – walk away feeling like it was worth your time, then I've done my job.

Remember kids, bitches say shit and they ain't sayin' nothin'. (It's me. I'm bitches.)

Originally uploaded on 9/19/2024.