First/Previous
“How’d you think that was going to go?” asked a voice from the other side of the door.
I lay on the bunk and stared at the ceiling; my head throbbed. The place where I’d been grazed stung whenever I touched my fingers to it. A bullet had—by whoever’s grace—scraped my scalp and traced a line from the far corner of my right eyebrow. It'd only been three days and it still caused pain. No doctors came and I was certain there would be infection—if not plain infection, then it could always be the worser: skitterbugs. I ached still. I had never fully recovered, not like how I should have.
The day of anger, as I’d begun to think of it in my mind, had caused no great ruckus beyond a few dead men. Two were Bosses, but who knew if they’d announce that as casually as they’d surely announce my execution. Perhaps they’d string me up alongside thieves. A good thief and a bad. What a riot; I deserved no thieves, of course.
What was I? Some great hero? Some idiot was more likely. I wanted misery to befall those that perpetrated it themselves and there I was, more miserable. Perhaps the wrath in my heart came from some mutation; the demon Mephisto resurrected me (so said the demon) and I’d begun to accept it. It was the reason for my poor state, surely, and the more I thought on it, the more I believed it was true; it felt true right down to my bones. The truth hurt or it was age and I rose from the cot I lay on; I’d been detained in a room beside the one I’d visited Andrew many months prior. They’d starved me, rattled the door to try and frighten me, and they’d wasted water on my head to keep me from good sleep.
I did not respond to the voice from the other side of the door and the object rattled in its frame and the voice came again, this time angrier, “Really? How did you think that was going to go? Crazy bastard! Thought you’d put the hurt on the Bosses? Thought you’d kill us at our worst? First, it’s that explosion. You have something to do with that? No! First, it was Harold’s daughter running off!” The voice on the other side of the door grew with mirth as it did with anger. “I’d seen you around town a bit. Thought the Bosses always liked you. Huh. Boss Harold mentioned you at his parties and said how you were a smart fella’, a good fella’, and there you killed him. Stone cold.” The man which spoke was a jailor that tortured me in those dreamlike days I spent locked in their prison, and he seemed personally affronted. “So first it’s the explosions; steam or dust rose out of cracks in the ground you know—some thought hell was rising up, but the Bosses put those thoughts to bed. God, what’s it with the likes of you? The explosions and now I’ve lost an eye and its because of the skitterbugs. You probably brought that on!” The voice muttered and then the door shook in its frame again, seemingly from a hard kick. I wished I could see the face of the man throwing his tantrum. “Can’t wait to see you hang.”
“So, I’ll hang?” I asked the door. There was a long silence, and I was uncertain if I’d pitched my voice enough for the man on the other side to hear me. I opened my mouth to ask, “So-
“You’ll hang.” The man on other side seemed to knock his knuckles against the surface of the door. “Or you’ll die here.”
“What’s Maron said?”
“Don’t you worry about him.”
“What’s he said?”
“Said you’d probably appreciate the punishment that we’d put on you. Said you’re a sick man. Said you like speaking with devils and people like you only find pleasure in such things.”
“So, I won’t hang?”
“Oh, you’ll hang, sir. You’ll hang if I need to do it myself with no one else. If not that, I’ll be sure to put you under one way or another. Accidents happen.” He chuckled. “Maybe you’d enjoy it, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever enjoyment you find in your tortures won’t compare to what ideas I have.”
A long silence followed, and I watched dust motes dance in the air; the place was stagnant and even a breath caused a shift in their glide. I closed my eyes and tried to remember a better time. I thought of Suzanne. I thought of Gemma. What a time to be alive. I thought of the movies, the books, the musical cartridges that sung of yesteryears. How unlucky I’d been, of course. Something had changed in me though and it was totally refreshing. Perhaps it was in realizing the evils of my brothers was that of a man and not some otherworldly force, or perhaps it was a push that came from years of terrible inconsistencies. All that living in the past and so it was. It didn’t matter—the past. I’d been so busy with it that I’d been in a constant state of unliving. I’d known that always, of course—something new had come.
“You dozing off in there?” asked the jailor.
“Nah.”
“Good. Stay awake or I’ll be forced to stay you awake.”
I’d been reborn with a rage, justified or otherwise, and it was felt all over. It was a wild compulsion. All that time and it had been me that was brought back.
The wound on my head throbbed and I prodded it with a finger and brought the finger away and examined the digit; it was dried well enough, and I did not smell infection nor were there any of the accompanying symptoms of a fever or hallucination. I was me, through and through. For now.
The door banged. I didn’t bother an answer and the door banged again.
“Who’s there?” I asked, surprising myself with the sarcasm.
“Why’d you do it?” asked the jailor.
“You wanna’ ask me about it now?”
“Tell me.” The voice on the other side of the door was serious entirely.
“Bah!” “Bah to you! Why’d you do it?”
“Is there a reason to explain myself? If you knew better the things I knew, would it get you to unlock that door and let me walk free? Would it change your mind even?”
The jailor caught a laugh before responding. “Can’t say it would.”
“So, what’s it that you want? You won’t understand me, and I don’t think I’ve got the energies of persuasion to try.”
“Try.”
“You like the Bosses?”
“They’re okay. Keep me in work anyway. Keep people safe.” I slumped forward onto my knees where I sat and placed my elbows on my knees and watched the crack at the base of the door on the other side of the prison cell. “What’s it matter if they keep you in work? Think they care about you anymore than what you represent?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you keep riffraff down and they like you for it. I wonder if they know you. You ever get invited to the feasts they hold at the hall? You ever worry about your water rations? You ever wonder why it is that so few of the women or men invited to the hall return? Children too, now that I think of it. They’d call those captured criminals, I know. Those brothers—the sheriff is to blame too—they’re bastards. You know they are.”
“Is that so? What’s that make me? A bastard too?”
“By proxy maybe.” I dryly chuckled. “What’s it matter? What do you want outta’ me anyhow? Some gratification? Some confession—you’ve gotten that already, ain’tcha? Maybe a repentance? Why don’t you call one of those Bosses on down from their throne and have them here on the other side of the door so I can apologize? Or call Lady and I’ll get her to channel some message to the afterlife and I’ll plead for forgiveness. That what you want? Now I’m a bad man and I know it, but it ain’t for the reasons you believe. What you want is belief that there’s a man under the skin of the monster you’ve projected? No, I won’t shoo away your boogeyman for you. It can’t be done, not from me.”
“You talk big for someone in your predicament. I like how you talk so holier. Like you’re talking down on me. I just wanted to know what made you want to go on a mad-killing spree the way you did.”
“Mm.” I cupped my hands together; as it was, my left knee shot off with pain and I tried to massage it to little comfort and stretched it out straight from my body. “When violence keeps you bound, violence is necessary to free yourself. That’s all I’ll say about it. If you hang me, then hang me. Spill my guts out for the birds and put a sack over my head so you won’t be sick by my face.”
“You’re a mouthy pig.”
I listened to the jailor’s footfalls disappear down the hall and finally it was totally quiet and all I could hear was the throb on my head. Lucky or unlucky? No, it wasn’t luck. I’d been marked. I was the payment, and I knew the price. The demon had my soul. Whatever protection it afforded me, I intended on using.
The image of that room continued over in my mind, with the peasantry (that’s what I saw them as then) knelt in front of the Bosses and the wall men, with the intense blood-smell, with the surprise on Maron’s face. Billy’s face. There was still a part of me, however small, that wanted to plead with him to change his ways. That wasn’t the part that welled up in me then though. The piece of me that wanted to see him die was what took over. It hadn’t been Maron that fired his gun; he’d still been fighting with his holster. I’d only taken a step in through the door and a spray of gunfire from one of the wall men’s rifles exploded and I was sure I was dead because I fell, and my vision went white. They should’ve put me down then.
I didn’t come too fully until I had a few goons on me, hauling me upright roughly under my arms. Maron didn’t say anything at first and those wall men took over; they shouted that I was alive still and I felt a hot gun barrel against my cheek.
“Stop!” shouted Maron. The Boss Sheriff stepped forward with his stilted gait and looked me over thoroughly. The gun barrel fell from my cheek, but they held me still; it wasn’t like I planned on fighting. “You got uglier,” said Boss Maron, “Really ugly.” His left eye, afflicted by the skitterbug infestation, had gone dead white with only the faintest trace of an iris; it dribbled pus.
I held his stare to the point that my eyes watered—whether from anger or sorrow or both—and my muscles tightened like an animal threatening to pounce. It was a ridiculous display.
“Lock him up,” said Boss Maron.
So, I was locked up and those uncounted days I was mildly tortured: sleep deprivation, pummeling, and sometimes they spit on me. It could have been worse. I’d seen worse.
The cell was numbingly quiet, and I continued to massage my knee, continued in thinking about how investing so much thought with the past twisted any future of mine into a dismal satire.
I could not tell how long it had been without sunlight and the jailor returned (he was bulbous and fattened and old but very strong—it could be sensed in how he carried himself) pushed through the door this time with a tray of diced potatoes, steamed but cold, and a metal cup of water. He sat them on the floor, stared at the tray there with his one good left eye, and it was like I could read his mind as he looked at the food there. He could destroy it; he jerked from the tray without saying a word to me then disappeared behind the door he closed. The jailor remained there outside.
Pride swelled in me momentarily before I pushed whatever silliness that was and devoured the food and drank the clear water. If it was poison, so be it. If it was poison, then all the problems of the world would disperse.
Again, the jailor pushed in through the door and bent to remove the tray and I was struck by the immediate thought of strangling him. So, I tried and threw myself at the man.
My hands felt the scruff around his throat, and I pressed hard with my fingers on his Adams apple. He’d lurched forward to lift the tray and he immediately came up with force, throwing me off him; my nails raked his cheek as I scrambled for purchase. He took the metal tray in both of his hands and thwapped me across the head—it rang, and I was stunned while he lifted back his right hand in a swing. In the dizziness, I momentarily caught a glimpse of the holster on his left hip and reached out dumbly for the revolver there. A meaty smack could be heard, and I didn’t even feel it when his fist met my face the second time. My head rocked and I fought to look upright, and his hand came again, and I put up my own hand in return; it was pushed away, and he continued at me, muttering epithets he found useful.
Once he was heaving and spitting, he left me on the cot and directly before slamming the door, he mentioned something about violence and how if I liked violence so much that he’d show it to me.
I nursed myself to sitting right-up and though adrenaline kept the pain away, I felt my face bruising already. There was no way for me to inspect the welts his hands had left, but I could guess their places by touch and how they thrummed with my heart.
Two days passed, if I counted them by the visits from the jailor and then Maron made his appearance to me, and I was surprised to see him with a leather eye patch over his left eye; he seemed ill on his feet and the jailor, though the man was there, did not move to stop Maron from entering the room and relieving me of my prison. He and the jailor roped my hands together in front of my pelvis and I didn’t fight.
Boss Maron stank of infection and yellow oozed from beneath his eye patch and he kept his cowboy hat pulled snugly over both his ears and did not speak so jovially—there were no crude jokes at my expense. A warmth radiated off him. The Boss carried my shotgun with him but made no remark on it. He marched me from the prison, and I met daylight, and it burned my eyes while I stared up into the reddish sky. Dust scattered from the nearest portion of wall and caught on the wind till it was carried and disappeared overhead, and I briefly thought how nice it must be to fly.
Golgotha stirred as ever, and people spoke loudly and candidly as I passed them by. Words came my way from passing faces like, “You kissed the devil’s ass!” or, “You sure are a monster, look at you!” and Maron pushed me on with the gun at my back, and I wavered on my legs like I was without any control.
“Is it true?” asked Boss Maron, “Did you kiss the devil’s ass?” He tilted the shotgun casually on his shoulder and kept me ahead of himself. He was taking me to hang—and making a big deal out of it too. “I know how you like to speak to them. The demons. I know how you conspire with them. I told them all how you do. Now they know I was right.”
What a rotten town it was, and it smelled like it. The atrophied muscles and diseased infections of those fine folks emanated in the air, flies buzzed around my head, bloated and doubtlessly happy from whatever corpse they’d sprung from.
“Say somethin’,” said Maron.
“What do you want?” I asked, watching my footfalls, ignoring the screeches of those on the sidelines; he marched me through the runways, past the onlookers which saw me with faces of twisted hatred. The tension was palpable—I could feel the venom off the eyes of those that watched. Blood red eyes which judged carelessly.
“I want you to say it,” said Maron; I felt the nudge of the shotgun at my back again and I stumbled forward, caught myself, carried on, “I want you to admit it to me. You’re like a mutant, ain’tcha? No better than any other monster. I knew it all them years. I seen it.” We took an alley and cretins followed behind; wall men flanked Maron and on either side of the narrow stretch there were faces made even with the wall, pressed there like they were afraid to be involved.
“Whatever you say, brother.”
“Don’t,” hissed Maron, “Don’t even.”
“What?” I spat the word, “Afraid they’ll treat you differently if they all know how close we are?” I felt the gun barrel press against my back, and I yelped out the words, “Hey! He’s my brother! My baby brother!” The barrel jabbed me in the spine, and I spilled forward, catching myself on one of those nearby faces. It was an old woman. She shoved me from her, and I flailed across the ground after trying to catch myself with my bound hands. Dirt met my face and exploded around me. I laughed, blinking through the dust. I spit too. He couldn’t kill me. Whatever black magic there was in me—bequeathed by Mephisto—refused me death. Maron lifted me with the help of his wall men, pinching the coat around my throat with his fist. He shoved me on, and we continued.
“You smell that?” I asked Maron.
“Stop talkin’. You might not be a man, but you’ll die like one,” he said. The wall men around muttered, and we took the way to the front square; already there were looky-loos gathered, throngs of them not at all bashful to see the day’s line-up—it was just me. The platform was emptier and that was good (Frank, Paul, and Matt looked naked without their eldest brother). Those Bosses which remained looked drunk as they did for any other execution. It was a good day for it. Warm. The stink of the crowd was worse and as those gathered parted for my entourage, the warmth of them cloistered us like the blood of a wound.
Even through the vile aroma, the smell of rotted poultry rose like nothing else. “You don’t smell it then?”
The roar, a cacophony of the damned souls stolen, shook the ground and the air changed. A dragon—Leviathan.
Along the wall which old skeletal corpses hung against dried blood stains from hook-chains, men and women scattered the length of the parapets with their weapons. Gunfire came and one of those atop the wall shouted, “Artillery! Dragon! Big guns!”
There was fire in the sky and the creature circled overhead and its wings beat the wind like mad; those organic ropes that hung from its body took on horrid shapes with its movement in the high noon sunlight.
Screams filled the air as the square erupted into panic. I dove into the sickly crowd; among the loudness, the horses which were lined by the big door fought against their ties and bolted across the square. Arms and heads disappeared beneath those dashing hooves, and it was not long before people were trampling people and in a quick glance I saw the Boss platform came down in splinters as the horses rushes it. Blood slickened the feet of many as they rushed to the buildings adjacent the square—what a small protection that’d be against Leviathan. A wall man went stumbling over the wall’s ledge and his body met the ground beneath the hanging corpses and he didn’t get up.
In the wild fray, Maron fired the shotgun into the air, and I briefly thought of where the pellets might fall.
Finally, artillery fire came and put a hole in the creature. It wavered in the air, its head lurched downward like it might pierce the ground and it pulled its long neck back and blew flames across the buildings. The heat was immaculate. Rotted chicken filled my lungs.
“There’s more!” shouted a wall man above, “Running across the field.”
The crowd grew more enamored with escape; there’s no good way to say it—blood frothed around our heels as I was shoved through the avenues of elbows, rocking heads, plunging knees. I pushed on, shielding myself with my bound hands as well as I could. I kept my head as high, and felt scratches reach my throat—doubtlessly those which could not continue—nails and fists came from every direction. In the ephemeral madness, I too screamed and it did not stop until I spilled into an alleyway along the wall nearest the execution chains. I ran and tripped from the crowd, slid, and bit my tongue so thoroughly that my teeth clicked together though the tissue; my breath was knocked from me. My pants were wet from the viscera. Others too had found the opening and barreled past me. I went to my feet and panted thought the pain, through the twinge in my left knee. I took the walls for support and still, those which rushed past nearly knocked me from my feet.
Some poor child—a lean, bony-faced boy—fell in the rush and before I had a moment to reach out, he was gone. Whether he lived or not, I did not stop to know. The crunch of bones as more people spilled into the narrow stretch indicated the worst.
First/Previous
Archive

"Thunderclap, will you fucking stop that?" Green Growler said.
"Uggghhhh, stop what?" Thunderclap replied.
"That isn't him, that is your own pulse in your head dumbass." Esperelda, the mind sharing martian maiden said, she was usually far kinder. Green growler cocked an eyebrow at her in surprise and mouthed 'dumbass?' at Thunderclap, who only shrugged. Then the martian vomited, blue, so much blue. She'd tried to share their last party member's mind, but she was still whirling drunk.
The woman on the ground was called Kickass Karen, she was... well, a kind of generic super. Super strong, but not like... punch the planet in half strong or anything. Just bending steel beams and jumping over medium size buildings in a single bound, strong. No flight powers or laser eyes, but she could run about as fast a car on the freeway in short bursts, but a motorcycle might get away, however clearly she did not have super alcohol tolerance. Oh, she was also mildy bullet resistant. Small caliber tended to bounce off her, but she was hit in the hand with a .50 cal sniper rifle once, and it broke a bunch of her hand bones but only left a small cut on her skin.
Esperelda was the only one on her feet. When she stood up a handful of cows in the pasture noticed them, and started coming over.
"Mooooo!" Thunderclap said to them as they walked up. He slapped himself slightly in the face. A barbarian of a man in all ways, but still a little too hungover for that. He groaned, regretting slapping his own face.
Green Growler turned himself into a green housecat. Any predator would do, but he didn't want to startle the cows by being a tiger or something big. "Is Karen alright?" He said as a cat.
She lifted up her head at hearing her name. "I'll live. Ugggghhh my head. I swear to Mrs Infinity, I'm never drinking again. What even happened last night?"
Kickass Karen sat up, her bob hair cut somehow still immaculate. Super hair. A digital camera dropped from her chest and landed in her lap.
Esperelda, being the least hungover by far, asked, "What is that device? Is that a camera? Perhaps it'll have some clues as to how we ended up in this state."
Karen tossed it to her and then rolled over onto all fours and threw up. Super threw up. Sitting up was a super mistake.
Thunderclap staggered to his feet and made himself busy petting the cows. Using them to keep his balance too. He was still drunk, hungover for sure, but also still drunk. "There's a plume of black smoke rising over the horizon."
"Oh no..." Esperelda said, looking at the last couple of pictured they'd taken before jumping from what looked like a private jet they'd stolen. "That's probably the airplane we jumped out of."
Kickass Karen groaned. "That must be why I feel like I shit."
Green Growler jumped awkwardly up onto Esperelda's shoulder, ended up needing to use far more claws to get his perch than he meant to. "Shit sorry, sorry, sorry. I was just trying to get a view of the camera."
"You were trying to not have to walk yourself." Esperelda said settling him on her shoulders, "I don't even need to use my Martian Mind powers to know that."
Thunderclap laughed. "She's got you there bud."
"Good Lord! Delete that immediately." Growler said to Esperelda looking at a picture of him being ridden as a tiger by three scantily clad women.
"Did you see this one?" She scrolled back the other way. Taking them later in the night, this one showed him having his belly pet by a handful of nude party goers.
"Okay, so what the fuck happened last night?"the Green cat said, "Go back toward the start."
"I am, I am. Look at this one." Esperelda showed him a picture of him as a green tiger licking a woman's back.
"Delete that too." Growled the Green feline.
"In the mean time we should head toward that plume of smoke in case people there need our help." Kickass Karen said. She tried to stand and immediately regretted it.
"Use a cow." Thunderclap told her, helping her up to lean on his while he staggered to the next one. "Good cows."
They were good cows. Friendly cows. The one Karen was leaned against licked her face. "I'm tellin your manager you're licking the customers." She joked.
As they walked toward the plume of black smoke, Esperelda and Green Growler put together the story of the previous night. They'd ended the night by crashing a plane, but before that they had had a wild night of debauchery... or maybe interrupted a wild night of debauchery and joined it. About half way through the camera roll the four of them stopped even being there. It was however pretty obvious that the revelry the people on camera before them was having was... well very illegal. It makes sense that they showed up.
"Look at this guy. He's in the background a bunch later in the night too. He's always there." Growler commented from Esperelda's shoulder, "Is he wearing horns? Or are those really part of his head."
"In some of the pictures he doesn't have them, and in other's... Oh it's when he's not looking at the camera, that he does." She said.
"I dunno how you two are looking at a screen right now." Karen said. Thunderclap grunted his agreement.
"Well, based on what we've seen, you two drank a magnificent amount, far more than either of us. Also Martians process alcohol much faster than humans. And Growler's his own weirdness."
"Hey, I'm not weird." The green talking cat said.
"Shape shifting green blob from outer space, that can only become predatory creatures... not weird at all." Karen said, and they all shared a good-natured laugh, and then groan at their head aches.
Esperelda kept flicking through the camera roll and finally coming to the begining, "The guy with horns absolutely started the out of control part of the party. This camera started it's night at a divorce party some twenty somethings were holding for their friend. There were six pictures on it before he showed up in the background the first time. And then things start to get wildly out of control, and fast. Fifteen minutes from his first appearance to straight up nudity and drinking to excess. He seems to have riled up enough people to join him in whatever he was up to that he robbed both a bank and a museum with a drunken mob, and then we showed up."
"Scroll us back toward the end of the night now." The green cat said, "I missed most of the part where we stole a plane."
The four of them crested a small hill in the cow pasture, and saw the smoldering ruins of their airplane not too far away, on the other side of the home attached to this pasture. There were fire trucks around, emergency personnel all over the place.
"Ah, here it is. Horn man joined us in the airport." Esperelda said, and then flipped through some more, "Here's us drinking with the TSA agent, and another of us pouring shots into a pilot's mouth... oh dear."
"Horn man?" A familiar, yet unfamiliar voice said. "That's a terrible name. How about you kids call me 'The Reveler!'
There he was, the man from the camera roll, sitting up in the pasture with them, like he'd just woke up well rested. The bastard had no hangover. He only had horns on his head when you weren't looking right at him in person, and only on camera when he wasn't looking.
"Hey buddy, don't take this weird, but are you aware your legs are on backward?" Thunderclap said. Kickass Karen grunted in agreement.
The Reveler laughed. "You must still be quite drunk if you're able to see my true form, but they're just goat's legs. Now, I had a good time with you kids last night. You lot came to break up my party, but you joined me instead. I like that. Lets do it again soon."
A pair of women had broken away from the fire trucks and emergency personnel and was walking over to meet their little group in the cow pasture when The Reveler turned to leave. He took one step and vanished in a puff of smoke that smelled of wine and weed.
The two women walking over were identical. A pair of Mrs Infinitys. They walked over to help Thunderclap and Kickass Karen to stagger out of the cow pasture and give them a hand getting over the fence. Esperelda set Green Growler on a fence post and hopped over herself, and then re-collected the cat.
When the two aliens turned back to face the humans, both Kickass Karen and Thunderclap were crying and apologizing to the Mrs Infinitys. And they were both being very reassuring and promising the young supers they had done a good job.
"Oh no no my dears, you did great! That was an ultra omega triple S-level threat, and you four managed to get through the night without anyone getting killed, surprisingly enough. A lot of property damage and theft though. A lot. That's Pan for you though."
Kickass Karen swallowed hard and squeaked out, "Did you say Pan? Like the Greek God?"
Both Mrs Infinitys sighed. The one next to Karen spoke, "Yes, he resurrected a few years ago. Since then, twice a year at the spring and autumn equinox he goes out partying. Looks like he likes you four though."
She plucked a green rectangular business card from the back of Thunderclap's costume. It had 'The Reveler' pressed into it. "Ahh, I see he's come up with a new name for himself. Wonderful."
Esperelda knew better than to try to share minds with Mrs Infinity, so she asked, "Well what's next?"
"Electrolytes. Probably something greasy to eat, and a nap, I assume." She smiled, and the other one started talking. "But in six months I expect Pan comes calling on you four again, and I hope you'll be up to the task to keep him entertained again. As yet, we have no idea how to contain him."
Kickass Karen swore, and Mrs Infinity said, "Language, Miss Miller."
Karen laughed and then groaned because her head was pounding. "Sorry, but just a few minutes ago I swore on you that I'd never drink again... and well ain't that some shit that you of all people would show up to tell me I need to train for a drinkathon with literal Pan. At least its not Dionysus right?

”Stop.”
I really needed the bathroom.
For fifty painstaking minutes, I had been staring at the clock on the wall, willing it to go faster, uncomfortably shifting side to side in my seat so much that I was starting to get weird looks.
2:52pm.
Eight minutes, I thought dizzily, squeezing my legs together.
Which was just two chunks of four minutes.
Four chunks of two minutes.
The pain started like normal stomach pain, the kind I could deal with.
I swallowed two Tylenol with lukewarm soda.
But this was different.
This kind of pain was contorting and twisting my gut so much, I had to keep leaning onto my left buttock for relief.
I must have done it so many times, I caught the attention of the guy sitting next to me. Roman Hemlock who was half asleep, dark blonde curls hanging in half lidded eyes, his chin leaning on his fist. He shot me a look. I couldn't tell if it was Are you okay? or Can you stop moving around so much?
From the single crease in his brow, the slight curl in his lip, I guessed the latter.
It's not like Roman was helping.
For half the class, he'd been tapping his foot on the floor, then his chair leg, and to complete the orchestra, his fingers joined in, tap, tap, tapping on the edge of his desk. I didn't know if it was a bored thing, an ADHD thing, or he was trying to keep himself awake. It was easy to tolerate without the pain, but with it, the boy’s incessant tapping was more akin to a dentist drill splitting my skull open. I already felt nauseous, the sad looking chicken nuggets I forced down at lunch making an unwelcome appearance at the back of my throat.
It was too fucking hot, the stuffy summer air glueing my hair to the back of my neck. The material of my shirt was making me cringe, sticky against my skin.
Tipping my head back, the lights were too bright. Every sound was too loud. Imogen Prairie, who was sitting behind me chewing her gum a little too loudly.
Kaz Samuels scribbling notes like a maniac.
I could hear every stroke of his pencil, every time he paused, looked up at the presentation, and continued writing.
When I leaned forward in my chair, I could smell exactly what Isabella Trinity had eaten for lunch, the stink hanging in the air.
It became a case of sucking in my stomach and taking slow, deep breaths.
I’d never had these kinds of stomach cramps before. But it didn't take me long to figure out what they were.
I was yet to start my period at the grand age of sixteen, which meant this was it.
After countless sessions with the doctor, and feeling like a social outcast among my group of friends who started their periods in middle school, it had finally happened. The cramps in my gut that felt like my torso was being ripped apart, was in fact me entering womanhood. When my breath started to quicken, my mouth watering, I raised my hand, biting my lip against a cry.
Fuck.
Something lurched in my gut, a wave of nausea crashing into me.
I was going to throw up.
“Mr Brighton.”
Roman spoke up before me, waving his arm. “Can I use the bathroom?”
The teacher’s answer was always the same. Which was why I had been crossing my legs for the entirety of the class, unable to focus on anything but my gut trying to twist itself inside out.
Mr Brighton leaned against the wall, his eyes glued to the PowerPoint awash in our faces. We had been staring at the exact same slide for maybe five minutes now, and our physics teacher was yet to speak, his gaze somewhere else.
Mr Brighton was my Dad’s age, a greying man in his early fifties who always wore the exact same suit with the exact same stain on his collar.
The man was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
Normally, I would drift off myself, lulled into slumber by the low drone of his voice.
But the pain ripping me apart was keeping me awake.
“Mr Brighton.” Roman said, louder. His voice snapped me out of it. “Can I use the bathroom?” He paused, exaggerating a loud sigh. ”Please?”
The teacher straightened up, folding his arms.
“Mr Hemlock, you know the rules. Why didn't you go before class?”
“I didn't need to go an hour ago, did I?”
“You will no longer need to go to the bathroom, Mr Hemlock.”
Roman made a snorting noise.
“What?”
The low murmur of my classmates collapsed into white noise.
Glancing at the clock, I was anticipating the school bell.
The sickness swimming in the pit of my belly was reaching dangerous territory.
2:52pm.
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
It was 2:52 the last time I checked, and five minutes had surely passed.
This time, I waited a whole minute and counted the seconds under my breath. The clock still didn't move. The ticker was frozen halfway between three and four.
Slowly, the same realisation began to hit the twelve of us. The clock on the wall had stopped. But it wasn't the only thing that had stopped. The cool breeze drifting through the window was gone.
The sound of birds outside, and the cheer squad practising their routine.
Everything had stopped. Trying to ignore a sickly slither of panic twisting its way through me, I checked my phone under my desk. There was a text from my Mom lighting up my notifications. When I tried to swipe it open, nothing happened. My lock screen was frozen, stuck at 2:52pm.
With my hands growing clammy around my phone, I stared at the time, willing it to move, to flick to 2:53.
But nothing happened, the numbers stubbornly staying at 2:52.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roman’s voice brought me back to reality, though I was sure I'd dropped my phone. I heard it hit the floor with a sickening crack. Whatever he was saying, though, faded into dull murmur, when I turned toward the window.
Something was wrong outside.
The cheer squad were nowhere to be seen.
Being on the top floor gave us a front row seat to their practice sessions.
I stopped watching when their flyer did a death defying flip, almost breaking her neck. 2:52pm. I couldn't see the cheer squad. But I did see Jessie Carson mid-sprint across the track field, strawberry blonde curls suspended in a halo around her.
I could see exactly where she had frozen in place, her left foot hovering off of the ground, her right foot driving momentum. It wasn't just Jessie who had stopped. The dirt she was kicking into a cloud behind her was hovering, caught in mid-air.
Studying the faces around me, my mouth went dry.
Roman Hemlock, mid-argument with our physics teacher.
His eyes were wide, lips curved into what would have been a yell.
Fuck.
Was I the only one?
But then Roman blinked, and I realized the boy wasn't frozen. He was trying to think of a comeback. “What do you mean I won't need the bathroom anymore?”
“Mr Hemlock, please lower your voice.”
“Why? You can't dictate to me when I do and don't need the bathroom, dude!”
Moving onto the rest of my class, the others were still moving.
It was too quiet, though.
Yes, Roman was still tapping his foot.
Imogen was still chewing her gum.
Kaz was still scribbling notes like a psychopath.
But they were the only noise I could hear.
I wasn't the only one confused. The classroom had pricked with a sense of urgency. Kids were checking their phones, their gazes glued to the clock. Even Roman, who was still arguing, was starting to notice. I watched his gaze lazily roll to the clock on the wall.
I pretended not to see his cheeks visibly paling.
We had all come to the exact same terrifying conclusion.
2:52pm.
Time had come to a halt, and somehow, we had not.
“Is that clock broken?” Roman interrupted, leaning forward in his chair.
Kaz twisted around, settling the boy with an eye-roll.
“Check your phone, dumbass.”
“I broke my phone.”
Imogen threw her iPhone at him, narrowly missing hitting him in the face.
“Everything is frozen,” She said, her voice shuddering. “It's not just the clock.”
I waited for Roman’s response. For once, though, he was speechless.
“Well done, Imogen. That is correct.” Mr Brighton spoke up, tearing a piece of paper from a workbook and striding over to the door, glueing it over the glass window. When we started to protest, some of us were shouting, while others bursting into tears, he calmly took out his key and locked us in.
I should have been surprised that our teacher had spontaneously decided to take his entire class hostage, but the rumor mill had been churning.
According to Becca Jason, the guy’s wife divorced him and took his kids.
I could feel myself sinking into my chair, phantom bugs filling my mouth.
So, this guy had nothing to lose.
Taking his place in front of his desk, the man settled us with a patient smile.
“From now on, you will stay inside this room.” He said. “In case you haven't noticed, time is currently frozen at fifty two minutes past two. The thirteen of us are tucked into the twenty first second, and will be, for the foreseeable future.”
I could tell the others wanted to argue, but we couldn't deny that time had stopped. Kaz was staring down at his frozen phone, Imogen hyperventilating behind me, Roman glaring at the clock, chewing on a pencil. We wanted it to be a prank, a joke, some kind of glitch in the matrix that would fix itself.
But then a whole minute passed by. Followed by another. Kaz threw his phone on the floor, hissing in frustration. Imogen let out a wet sounding sob.
Roman’s pencil split in his mouth, slipping from his fingers. We couldn't pretend it wasn't happening or call our teacher out on his BS, because it was everywhere around us. The sudden absence of outdoor ambience, birdsong, planes flying overhead, and traffic outside the school gates. Everyone and everything had stopped, and we were the only ones left.
This was a nightmare, surely.
My physics class were some of the most boring and pretentious people in the school, and somehow the world had been reduced to the twelve of us inside our classroom. We were scared, of course we were. But reality had stopped making sense, crashing and burning in a single second. We had no choice but to listen to our teacher. “Now, before you freak out, it may not feel like it, but the twelve of you have also stopped.”
Mr Brighton held out his own hand, and placed it on his heart.
He was right.
I was so busy trying to understand what was happening, I had failed to realize my period cramps were gone.
“Do me a favor, and press your hand over your heart.”
“You mean like, in a culty way?” Imogen whispered.
“Obviously.” Roman grumbled, halfway out of his seat. He was hesitant, though, in case our teacher was armed. It only took one glance from our teacher, and he slumped back into his chair. “This crazy fucker clearly wants to play mind games with us.”
“No, I'm just asking you to feel for your heart.”
I felt for mine, and there was nothing, my stomach twisting.
Roman stabbed his fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse.
He tried his wrist.
Then his heart.
Nothing.
“The twelve of you are currently in a state of stasis,” the teacher explained to us, “You are not alive, nor are you dead. Your bodily functions are also on pause, such as your heartbeat and your pulse. In this state there will be no need for food and water, or going to the bathroom.” His gaze found a ghastly looking Roman, who looked like he was going to faint. “Your minds, however, as you can see, are working as usual.”
“But why?” Imogen demanded in a shriek.
Mr Brighton’s lip curled. “I would rather not answer that question.”
“Because you're lonely.” Roman spoke up. He swung back on his chair, narrowed eyes glued to the teacher.
“Your wife and kids left you, so you're asserting power over a group of sixteen year olds. Which is kinda fucking pathetic.”
Mr Brighton’s expression darkened, and something slimy crept up my throat.
The worst thing any of us could do was threaten him. He had taken kidnapping to a whole new level, and we were alone with this psychopath, trapped inside a second. I waited for the man to stride forward and attack the kid. But he didn't. Instead, the teacher leaned back on his desk. “Yes.” The man nodded.
“I suppose you could say I am.”
“But why us?!” Kaz hissed.
“Because you are children.” Mr Brighton responded casually.
He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards Roman’s desk. The rest of us leaned back. I tried to pull my desk with me, but it was glued to the floor. Frozen. Mr Brighton’s shoes went click-clack across the hardwood floor.
“You are right,” the man said in a murmur, “I am lonely. My wife and kids did leave me, and I have nobody left to control. I have nobody else to contort and use to my advantage.” Reaching Roman’s desk, he leaned in close until he was nose to nose with the kid.
“Congratulations, Mr Hemlock. You have just earned yourself detention.”
Roman stayed stubbornly still, but he was visibly afraid. I could see him very slowly backing away. Roman was all bark and no bite. He was a loud mouth, sure, but he was also the least confrontational person in the class.
“What?” He spluttered. “You trap us in a time loop or time trap, or whatever, and you still want to act like a teacher?”
“Stand up.” The teacher ordered.
“What if I don't?”
Mr Brighton’s expression didn't waver. “You said it yourself. I can and have trapped you inside a single second. What else do you think I'm capable of?”
Roman stood, kicking his chair out of the way.
“What are you planning on doing to me, old man?”
The teacher maintained his smile. “Stand up straight, and close your mouth.”
To my confusion, Roman Hemlock did all the above.
He straightened up, and closed his mouth.
“Do not fight me.” The teacher said calmly, “Do as you are told, and follow me.”
The boy did exactly as instructed.
His jaw slackened, that rebellious light in his eyes fizzling out.
I think that's when we all collectively agreed that going against this teacher and trying to escape was mental suicide.
“I will use Mr Hemlock as an example to all of you,” Mr Brighton said, turning to the rest of us. “If you break the rules or are derogatory in any way, you will be given detention.”
He grabbed the boy’s shoulders, forcing him to walk towards the supply closet. Roman moved like a robot, slightly off balance, his gaze glued to thin air, like he was tracking invisible butterflies.
"Your time in detention will depend on the severity of your rule-break.” He opened the door, gently pushing Roman inside, and following suit. When the door closed behind them, there was a pause, and I remembered how to breathe.
Kaz Samuels slowly got up from his desk, inching towards the closet.
“This guy is a certified nut.” He announced.
He turned towards us. “Whatever he's doing to Hemlock, we’re probably next.”
“He stopped time.” I spoke up, my own voice barely a croak. “He’s capable of anything.”
“But how did he stop time?” Kaz whistled, tipping his head back. The boy was slow, his fingers grasping each desk as he slid down the aisle. “He said he was lonely, right? But why take it out on us? What did we do to him?”
“Check his desk for a weapon!” Imogen whisper-shrieked.
Kaz nodded, striding over to the man's desk, his hands moving frantically, shoving paper on the floor. He took an uncertain seat on the man's chair. “There's nothing here,” he murmured, lifting stained coffee mugs and ancient textbooks. “It's just…test papers.” Kaz ducked from view, trying the drawers.
“He's a fan of Pokémon,” he said, “There's a tonne of Pokémon cards,” Kaz straightened up, running a hand through his hair. “No sign of a weapon, though.”
He picked up a ruler, waving it around. “This could work. If we plunge it in his eye.”
“Try his laptop!” Imogen was halfway out of her seat.
Kaz did, slamming the keys. “It's locked.”
“Look harder!” Ren Clarke threw a pencil at him.
“I am!”
After a minute of searching, Kaz grabbed a single piece of paper.
He held it up, and I squinted.
It was a list of our names, with several of them highlighted.
“Fuck.” Kaz dropped the list, his expression crumpling. The stubborn bravado facade transforming him into our sort of leader dissipated, hollowing him out into exactly what he was. Just a scared kid. Kaz’s hands were shaking.
“Mr Brighton’s got a hit list.” He whispered. “He's going to kill us.”
“How do you know that?” I found myself asking.
Kaz slowly dropped into a crouch, picking up the paper and holding it up.
“Look.” He pointed to a capitalised name at the top of the list highlighted in red.
ROMAN HEMLOCK.
There were six names highlighted in red, including mine.
CRISTA ADAMS.
As if on cue, Roman’s cry rang out from the supply closet, suddenly, freezing us all in place. Kaz jumped up, adapting the expression of a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide, almost unseeing.
He fell over himself to tidy up the desk, putting everything back where he had found it, sliding the list between a pile of test papers. Kaz took slow, stumbled steps back, his feverish gaze glued to the closet, before turning and making a break for it and diving into his seat.
“Brighton’s got a hit liiiist,” Kaz said, in a mocking sing-song, “And we’re all on it.”
What followed was deathly silence. I think we were expecting Roman to cry out again. But when he didn't, the class started to stir. Some kids started praying to a god they didn't believe in, while others were in varying states of denial, trying to call their parents with dead phones.
I wasn't sure what parts of me had stopped, but I was still alive, still felt like my lungs were deprived of oxygen, my chest aching. I'm not sure how long I sat there, trying to find my voice, a shriek trying and failing to rip through my mouth. Being kidnapped and held hostage is one thing, but being imprisoned inside a single, never ending second, was an existential hell worse than death. Slowly, I pressed my palm over my heart once again. Then I breathed into my cupped hands.
I was expecting it, but no longer being able to feel my own heartbeat and breath, was fear I didn't think was possible. The kind that glued me to my seat, hollowing me out completely until I was nothing, an empty shell with no heartbeat, no breath, no thoughts, except denial, followed by acceptance.
And finally, regret.
I regretted not hugging my mother goodbye before I left for school.
I regretted acting like a spoiled brat when my parents refused to drive me halfway across the country so I could attend Coachella.
I regretted stepping inside Mr Brighton’s fourth period physics class.
Mr Brighton reappeared, slamming the door behind him and locking the boy inside. Part of me flinched, while the rest of me remembered not to move a muscle. I was barely aware of time passing. Or it wasn't. Time had stopped, so now long had I been sitting there?
I could no longer measure the passage of time with hunger or thirst, and my body felt the same. I wasn't stiff or tired or achy. Looking out of the window, the sky was the exact same crystal blue, every cloud in the exact same place.
Jessie Carson was still frozen mid-run, strands of dark red hair caught around her.
“What's wrong with you guys?” Mr Brighton chuckled, and I twisted back to the front, a shiver writhing down my spine. “Why don't you give me a smile?”
The teacher returned to his desk, and I was already subconsciously sitting up straight in my seat, forcing my lips into a jaw-breaking grin, following Brighton’s instructions. In the corner of my eye, Imogen was sitting very still, forcing an award-winning cheesy smile, while Kaz grinned through gritted teeth.
“Mr Hemlock just earned himself two weeks inside the supply closet.” he said casually, perching himself on the edge of his desk. The man studied each of us, taking his time to rip every shred of us apart.
Mind, body, and soul.
I struggled to maintain my stupid smile, shoving my shaking hands in my lap.
“Would anyone like to join him, or are you going to follow the rules?”
The rest of us stayed silent. I don't think any of us breathed.
Our teacher nodded to Kaz, inclining his head.
“Samuels. Are you all right?”
Kaz’s smile faltered slightly. He shifted in his chair. I could see sweat trickling down his right temple. “Uh, yeah.” He swiped at his forehead, like he couldn't believe he was sweating. “Yeah, I'm good.”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed. He moved toward his desk, and we all held our breaths. Mr Brighton seemed to study his hit-list, lips curving into a frown.
His gaze flicked to the boy, and then the paper.
He knew, I thought dizzily.
Mr Brighton knew the kid had been rummaging through his desk. But this was all about control. The teacher was using fear to control us, to manipulate our thoughts without having to get physical. He could have called out the boy right then, but Brighton was settling with mental torture instead. He just wanted to make my classmate squirm.
Without a word, the man folded up the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket. “Mr Samuels, you are sweating,” our physics teacher said, mocking a frown. “Are you feeling okay?”
Kaz hesitated, tapping his shoe in a rhythm.
Being one of the smartest kids in the room definitely gave him an advantage.
I could already see the cogs turning behind half lidded eyes. Kaz was weighing each scenario, sorting them into positives and negatives.
The positives of answering would mean he was one step towards being in the clear, but there were two negatives.
Brighton would question him if he had left his seat, and then demand how his hit-list had magically moved across the desk.
Talking back was surely a rule-break, as well as outright lying.
Opening his mouth would get him in trouble, either way, and Kaz knew that.
So, he just nodded, forcing an even bigger smile.
Brighton’s lips pricked, his gaze straying on Kaz. “Good!” He cleared his throat, turning to the class. Kaz slumped in his seat with a sharp breath, resting his head in his arms. If Mr Brighton noticed, he didn't say anything. “Ignore the sweating. It should stop, along with hunger and thirst.”
Our teacher seemed to be able to manipulate everything in his vicinity.
Time.
Minds.
And slowly… contorting us into his own.
In the single second we were trapped inside, I felt days go by in a dizzying whirlwind that was like being permanently high. When I stood up, I felt like I was floating.
When I sat down, hours could go by, even days, and I wouldn't even feel them. I did try and count the days, initially, scribbling them on a scrap piece of paper, but somewhere around the thirteenth or fourteenth day, I lost count. The world around us never changed, in permanent stasis, and maybe that was sending us a little crazy.
After a while of being stuck at our desks, Mr Brighton allowed us to wander the classroom, as long as we stayed away from the door. I lay on the floor for days, counting ceiling tiles.
Sometimes, Imogen would join me.
I couldn't sleep, but I could pretend to sleep, imagining a world that was back to normal. I didn't feel hungry, but my brain did like to remind me of food at the weirdest times. I was aware of weeks passing us by, and then months.
I never grew hungry or tired, and my bodily functions were none existent.
I couldn't remember what pain felt like, or the urge to go to the bathroom. Even the concept of eating and drinking became foreign to me. Putting something in your mouth and chewing to sustain yourself?
That sounded odd.
The only thing that was changing was our slowly unravelling metal state.
I don't know how it started. Weekends and Tuesdays blended together. On one particular SaturTuesday, I was hanging upside down from my desk, watching Kaz and Imogen doodle on the whiteboard.
Kaz had a plan to escape, but after a while, his ‘plan’ to distract the teacher, had gone nowhere. After passing notes between us, the twelve of us had decided that we needed a weapon.
That was maybe a month ago. I wasn't sure what mind games our teacher was playing, but Kaz Samuels, who we were counting on to be our brains, was slowly falling under his spell. Their game had been going on for three days. The two of them were having a competition to see who could draw the craziest thing.
Mr Brighton was at his desk as usual, marking papers.
Imogen was drawing a weird looking ‘skateboard’ when the doors to the storage closet flew open.
Roman Hemlock appeared, and to my surprise, wasn't a hollow eyed shell.
He held up his hand in a wave, his lips forming a small smile.
“Yo.”
Roman’s reappearance was enough to snap us out of it. Kaz and Imogen stopped arguing, the rest of the class going silent. I sat up, blinking rapidly.
I was sure our collective consensus was that Roman Hemlock was dead.
Mr Brighton lifted his head and gave the boy a civil nod. “Mr Hemlock will be rejoining us,” he said, his gaze going back to marking papers. “Please make him feel comfortable. I'm sure he's very excited to be able to talk to you again.”
Instead of going to his desk, the boy immediately joined the others, snatching the marker off of a baffled looking Kaz, and drawing an overly artistic sketch of a penis. I wasn't sure what confused me more. The fact that Roman Hemlock had some serious artistic skills, or that he seemed suspiciously fine for someone who had been locked in the storage closet for two weeks with no social interaction.
With my last few lingering brain cells still clinging on, I studied the boy.
There were no signs of bruises or scratches.
His eyes seemed normal, not diluted or half lidded.
Unable to stop myself, I jumped off of my desk and joined the others, where Kaz was already interrogating the guy.
“WHAT–”
Imogen nudged him, and he lowered his voice, leaning against the wall. “What did he do to you?”
Roman shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Relax, dude. He didn't do anything to me.”
“Then what was that yell?” Imogen hissed.
The boy cocked his head. “Yell?”
“You yelled out,” Kaz folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. He was already suspecting one of us had been compromised– or worse, brainwashed into compliance. Kaz stepped closer, backing Roman into the desk. “You cried out when you first went in there,” he murmured, “So, what was that?”
Something in Roman’s eyes darkened. “Oh,” He said, his lip curling. “That.”
Kaz’s expression softened. He rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Yeah,” He whispered. “What did he do to you?”
Imogen shoved Kaz out of the way, shooting the boy a glare.
“You don't have to tell us, you know.” She said in a small voice. “If it's too traumatising, or he did something you don't want to talk about–”
Roman cut her off with a laugh, and suddenly, all eyes were on him.
The remaining nine of us were eagerly awaiting an explanation.
“Are you fucking serious?”
When Kaz didn't respond, Roman gathered us in a kind of hustle, the four of us grouped together. I felt like I was on the football field. Still, though, if the guy’s goal was to look as suspicious as possible, he was doing a great job.
Roman studied each of us, one eyebrow cocked. When Mr Brighton glanced up from his work, Roman shot him a grin, lowering his voice to a hiss.
“You seriously think our fifty year old physics teacher has been abusing me in the storage closet?
“Then why did you cry out?” Kaz demanded. “Did he hit you?”
Roman stuck out his bottom lip. “I'm pretty sure he didn't hit me.”
“So, you cried out for no reason.”
“Why are you covering for him?” Imogen poked his forehead. “Are you lobotomised?”
Roman wafted her hand away. “Stop prodding me, and no, I'm 100% good.” He backed away from us, like we were observers, and he was the zoo attraction.
“I won't be, if you keep treating me like I'm senile.”
“Okay, fine,” Kaz sighed. “Just answer one.”
“Shoot.”
“When you first went in there, you made an unmistakable sound of distress–”
“Not this again,” Roman groaned. “Of course I yelled! I was shoved into a pitch black storage closet on my own! What, did you expect me to stay silent?”
Kaz didn't look convinced, Imogen nervously sucking her teeth.
The boy leaned back, resting his head against the wall. His eyes flickered shut.
“Stop looking at me like that, there's nothing to tell you,” he murmured, “Brighton didn't do shit to me. I was just freaked out.” Prying one eye open, he fixed us with a glare. “I am so sorry for reacting like a human. Next time, I'll make sure to attack him and pin him to the ground.”
It's not like we believed him. I don't think Roman believed himself.
Something significant had changed in him. He was no longer argumentative, like half of his personality had been torn away. Roman set a precedent. Because once he was following instructions and walking around with a dazed smile, others began to follow. I can't remember how much time had passed since I thought about escaping.
Days and weeks and months had collapsed into fleeting seconds I only noticed when I wasn't playing games.
I wasn't aware of my own lack of sanity until I found myself, on a random SaturWednesday. I was laughing, gathered with the others on the floor, around a Monopoly board. The game had been going on for almost a week.
Reality hit me when I was laughing so hard I tipped back.
I can't remember why I was laughing. I think Imogen told a bad joke.
“Hand it over.” Roman, who was the King of Monopoly, held out his hand, demanding my last 250 bucks. I remember noticing his smile, my foggy brain trying to find hints that he was in some kind of trance, or being controlled by Brighton. But no. His smile was real.
Genuine.
To my shock and confusion, so was mine.
I wasn't in a trance or any type of mind manipulation. I was completely conscious.
Was this… Stockholm syndrome? I thought dizzily.
Was I enjoying this?
My thoughts were like cotton candy, disconnected and wrong, and they barely felt like my own. My gaze found Imogen and Kaz, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder, enveloped in the game.
They looked exactly the same, their hair, clothes, everything about them staying stagnant. It was them themselves who had drastically changed. I had never seen them look so carefree. Imogen was a hotheaded cheerleader, and Kaz was the smart kid who gave himself nosebleeds from overworking himself. But now, they were laughing, nudging each other, caught up in an inside joke. Blinking slowly, my gaze strayed on them.
Sure, it could be manipulation. It could be brainwashing. But it could also be real.
Kaz caught my eye, raising a brow.
“You good, Christa?”
Again, my smile felt real. Like I was having fun.
“Good. It's your turn.”
I picked up the dice, throwing them across the board.
Two sixes.
“I can already see her landing on one of my hotels.” Roman murmured. He sat up, resting his chin on his knees. “As the clear winner, I have a proposition.”
Ignoring him, I moved my piece– immediately landing on Park Place.
“I'll give you 500,” Roman announced, “If you give up New York avenue.”
“That's all I've got!”
Imogen nudged me. “Don't do it. If you give him New York Avenue, he only needs one more.”
“One thousand.” Roman waved the notes in my face.
“My final offer.”
When I reached for the cash, he held it back.
“New York Avenue, he said, with a grin.
“And your pride.”
Reluctantly, I handed my only property over.
Kaz threw the dice and moved his piece, and I half remembered we had an escape plan. “Community chest.” Kaz picked up a card. “Go straight to jail.”*
Roman spluttered. “That's karma,” he said, “For stealing from the bank.”
“You were stealing too!”
We had a plan.
We had…. a plan.
After discussing it in detail, Imogen and I were going to try and get onto Brighton’s laptop. It wasn't a perfect way to escape, but it was coherent.
So, what happened?
We were going to get out, so what… what was this?
Kaz’s earlier words hit me from months ago.
“Mr Brighton *is the thing keeping us here,”* he explained. “If we kill him, I'm like, 98% sure we’ll go back to normal.”
“Okay, and what if he dies and we’re *stuck?”* Imogen whisper-shrieked.
“I said 98% for a reason. Yes, there's a small chance his power will die with him. But there's a bigger chance that its effects will die when he does.”
Ren nodded slowly. “Right, and where exactly did you learn this information?”
“You'll feel a lot better if I don't answer that.”
“Okay.” Ren gritted his teeth. “So, we just need to find a weapon, right?”
“And don't tell Hemlock,” Kaz rolled his eyes. “I don't care what he says, that boy definitely had his mind fucked with. Hemlock is a liability. If we tell Roman, he tells Brighton, and we’re screwed.” Kaz nodded to me, then the others. “Keep your mouths shut.”
Presently, I wasn't sure the boy wanted to escape.
Slowly, I rolled my eyes over to Mr Brighton, who had joined us to play.
He was happily marking papers, taking part when he could.
It felt…right.
Not like we had been forced or manipulated, but more like he belonged. Part of me wanted to question why I felt like this, but I found that I didn't care. I didn't care that we were essentially dead, in a never ending stasis and stuck inside fifty two minutes past two. I stopped thinking about the outside world a long time ago.
I couldn't even remember my Mom’s face.
I made my decision, dazedly watching Imogen throw a chance card at Roman.
He flung one back, threatening to tip the board.
I wanted to stay.
In the corner of my eye, however, someone was still awake.
Ren, who had been sitting next to me, kept moving, further and further away. I didn't notice until he was inching towards our teacher, a box cutter clenched between his fist. There must have been a point when we found a box cutter, when we made it our weapon of choice.
But somewhere along the way, I think we just… lost the longing to want to escape.
I didn't see the exact moment the boy stabbed the blade into the man's neck, plunging it through his flesh, but I did feel a sudden jolt, like time itself was starting to falter and tremble.
Mr Brighton dropped to the ground, and I found my gaze flashing to the frozen clock.
Which was moving, suddenly.
Slowly creeping towards 2:53pm.
Something sticky ran underneath me, warm and wet.
Blood.
Blood that was running.
Roman’s half lidded eyes found mine, and he blinked, dropping the dice.
Like he'd been asleep for a long time.
2:53pm.
We were free.
The cool spring breeze grazing my cheeks was back. I could feel my own heartbeat, sticky sweat on my forehead.
And outside, Jessie Carson let out a gut-churning scream.
For a disorienting moment, I don't think any of us believed we were free.
Roman twisted around, his gaze on the doorway.
The piece of paper the teacher had stuck to the glass slipped away.
But Roman’s gaze was glued to the door, his cheeks paling.
His lips parted into a silent cry.
Following his eyes, I glimpsed a shadow.
A shadow that was frozen at 2:52pm.
2:53pm.
“Fuck.” Roman whispered, stumbling to his feet.
He turned to the rest of us, his eyes wild.
“Get DOWN!”
I dropped onto my knees, crawling under a desk, the classroom exploding around me.
2:54.
Blood splattered the walls, and I was crawling in it, stained in my friends.
2:55.
I grabbed Mr Brighton's hand, squeezing for dear life.
Roman joined me, his trembling fingers feeling for a pulse.
A gunshot rang in my ears, rattling my skull.
When Roman went limp next to me, I wrapped my arms around my teacher.
“Mr Brighton, say Stop.”
He was so cold…
“Mr Brighton! Take us back!”
Footsteps coming towards me.
2:56.

Sitting in my captain’s chair, my fingers drummed on my armrests. Religion was a bittersweet subject for me, the churches not allowing mutts into the congregations. Staring out at the endless expanse of darkness and stars, a familiar sensation of Jack playing with the tips of my ears whipped me back to reality. Leaning down close to me, his lips brushed against the nape of my neck.
“Try to be civil with this religious city. I know that you don’t have the best relationship with them. The people need help with another one of those toads.” He begged with a crooked grin, a brisk fine leaving my lips. “That’s good to hear. The more that we have of that venom, our luck sure would look up. Maybe we could play when we get home.” Flushing a deep scarlet, my husband was lucky that Icy was the only other recruit with us for this mission. The others agreed to watch the kids, the way Catz suggested a movie night had me smiling to myself. My friends were amazing in the best way, Scampy looking more than thrilled to have such an experience. Chewing on my lips, the monks had agreed to help move the frozen venom onto the ship. Perhaps this church was different, the monks raising the orphans from all over the universe. Mulling over what we had to do, the word was that a neon green slime covered the infected areas.
“They come in all kinds of colors.” Jack pointed out simply, wonder shining in my eyes at how he knew what I was thinking. “The venom is all the same, so do be careful.” Shooting out a quick sure, an awkward silence came over the ship. Staring ahead numbly, he plopped into his seat. Hooking up his harness, Icy threw a crumpled up ball of paper into the back of my head. Catching it in my palm, the neat cursive had me smiling to myself. Unfolding it, the words are you okay were a blessing in a dark moment. Fishing around my space suit for a pen, the tip moved quickly. Crumpling it up, Icy caught it without an issue. Reading it with a quiet chuckle, the joke lifting his mood. Tucking it into his pocket with a proud smile, a deeper scarlet painted my cheeks. Humming to myself for the remainder of the trip, the descent had me back to my attentive self. Parking the ship in the dock, Icy and I undid our harness. Popping to my feet, my face fell at the father in his worn brown robes. His kind brown eyes followed me, his bald head glinting in the light of the three blue moons. Pressing his palms together, shock rounded his eyes at the metal covers slamming shut behind us. Jack apologized casually, the two of them breaking into a pleasant conversation. Icy took my side, his polite smile matching mine. The priest was a stout human, his aura seeming apprehensive of us.
“Do you think he will treat us with a little less hesitation?” He inquired curiously, both of us laughing softly to ourselves. The father snapped his head in our direction, both of us straightening up. Mumbling a couple of apologies, Jack cleared his throat. Tossing my staff into my eager palm, his rifle resting on his shoulders. The church was not a place we could sit next to each other if good behavior was required.
“Let’s go before you two start any more troubles.” He barked impatiently, the father narrowing his eyes in our direction. “Father Paldin promised to house us tonight if we do a good job.” Staring out at the swampy land in the distance, an impatient groan tumbling from my lips. Storm clouds rumbled to life, heavy rain dripping off of our suits. Rushing back towards the ivory sea homes surrounding a single marble church, the three of us stood in a pensive silence. Jack seemed pissed about something, his eyes scanning the area. Approaching me as casually as he could, he leaned down to whisper into my ear.
“There isn’t a toad here. The whole thing is a farce but I can’t turn my back on these people.” He spoke loud enough for only me to hear, my ears pinning back. “Solomon won’t be here but I can attest to the fact that he is a shapeshifting alien. I know the father and he is not him.” The color drained from my cheeks, the shapeshifting aliens being the trickiest to catch. Not knowing what to do, Jack yanked me close to his hips.
“We need to create steam and that is where you two come in.” He whispered into my ear with a bit of annoyance, his hands sliding up to my cheeks. “Look natural while he spreads ice to melt. I will shoot down the ones that get exposed.” Kissing my lips feverishly to cover our conversation, a bit of neon goo hitting my boot had a low hiss flooding from my lips. My scaly friends joined my side, Icy and I heading in the opposite direction of Jack. Darting along the edge of the town, more globs of neon goo covered the brick. Picking the lowest part, the brick groaned as I leapt over the wall. Whipping the goo off of my boot, screams and pleas caught my ears. Wandering over to a decaying marble church, my hands pushed the door open. Horror rounded my eyes at the entire town staring at me with big hungry eyes, the father waving me over. Rushing over, his kind eyes were of true emotion, the other’s look seeming falser by the second. People needed to be saved no matter their beliefs.
“Those things took over my town and locked us up. Do you have any food or water?” He begged with dry cough, Icy creating ice cubes for everyone while I fished around my pockets for anything to eat. Pulling out bag of cookies, eager hands shoved them into their mouths. One more remained, the father pointing to an adorable terrier mix. Tossing it in the pup’s direction, the poor thing devouring it in seconds. These bastards were going to pay for their crime, their presence stealing everything in sight. Things should be earned not stolen.
“We are going to save you and soon your homes will be yours. Relax the best you can, folks.” I promised with my genuine smile, Icy marching over to the door. Pressing his palm on the loose dirt, ice devoured everything. Rising to his feet, golden energy built around heel. The moment I slammed my heel into the ice, the hard work would begin.
“Ready?” I inquired with a tired smile, Icy shooting me a thumbs up. “Cool. Let’s do this!” Raising my heel over my head, a hissing sound joined the bright flash of my heel meeting the ice. Steam devoured the town, Icy closing the door behind us. Translucent forms of slimy aliens darted out of their homes, inky bullets took out half of them. Neon green goo shot in our direction, a quarter of them coming after us. Spinning our staff in our palms, our objective was to keep the steam curling into the sky. Unleashing a wave of ice underneath me, the ride threw me into the air. Taking in the entirety of the town, the town square would be an excellent trap.
“Town Square!” I shouted over the chaos, my snakes slithering up to my side. Keeping up with me, Icy skidded a couple of streets away. Sending Ratonia to help him, Ratalia snuggled into my palm. Shouting thank you over the chaos, swift swings sent the aliens flying into the air. Pops announced Jack’s rain of bullets, the bodies dissolving before they hit the melting ice. The town square was in view, Icy flipping onto the fountain. Mouthing the plan, a couple of exchanged winks had sly grin curling on our lips. Slamming the tip of his staff into spout, ice crept down the statue. Devouring everything in two inches of ice, cage walls made of ice cracked into place the moment the last alien sludged in. Golden energy glowed to life in my palm, the ice hissing in protest the moment my palm met the frigid surface. Cracks danced up to the top, steam twirling into the sky. Jack appeared out of nowhere, bullets ricocheting off the walls. Something seemed off, the rotting stench of the goo swelling over my head. Jumping out of the way, the leader’s goo melted the ice. Panic contorted my features, the king of the hive had been found. Forming his goo into a bomb in his palm, a mean green glow illuminated his body. Fantastic! My enemy was a living night light. Spinning my staff in my palm, golden energy had it glowing brighter than him. Throwing it in my direction, a swing of my staff sent a wave of golden energy in his direction. Ice melted in seconds, his body shot into the air. No more goo remained, Jack cursing under his breath at his lack of bullets. Something warm tickled my lick, my trembling fingers grazing my nostrils. Blood glistened on the tips of my fingers, a green gas knocking everyone out but me. Splashing behind me announced his landing, every muscle ached in protest as I raised my staff into the attack position.
“Leave while you still have some of your dignity left!” I barked hotly, everything around me doubling. Hitting the street, a couple of Jack’s bullets rolled into my palm. A weakened Jack smiled lovingly before passing out for a second time, the color draining from my face. Pretending to be knocked out, his wet body sloshed closer to me. Attempting to build up the energy around my fingers, nothing would happen. Picking me up by my waist, the bastard tossed me over his shoulder. A bright green heart beat in his chest, my new gloves burning as I slid my hand into his chest. Smoke muddied up his body, my trembling fingers pushed the bullets into his heart. Staggering back, a puddle of cool water caught me. Shrill shrieks filled the air, his hands reaching in to rip out his heart. His skin bubbled, my inability to move was about to bite me in the ass. Preparing myself for a world of hurt, Father Paldin stepped in front of me with his palms pressed together. Blinking a couple of times, the sight of him had to be a hallucination. Singing some sort of hymn, a bright ivory light bathed the town. Praying to save us and grace us with his presence, a ball lifted the evil alien into the air. Childlike wonder brightened my eyes at the green coating the bubble and the bubble alone. Snapping his fingers, the light died down. Crouching down to my level, his hand cupped my arm. Singing another hymn, time rewound to heal my burn wounds. Choking out a painful protest, his gentle smile had my fraying nerves relaxing a bit.
“We may not worship the same god but I can see a pure soul from a mile away. Do you need me to join your nation?” He asked politely while helping to my feet, the other townsfolk waving in the distance. “If you give us religious freedom, you have our support.” Too stunned to speak, the others began to stir awake. All of this was nothing, rescuing people was second nature to me. My lips parted to speak several times, the trees in the square dropping every ounce of water onto me. Feeling my hair cling to my face, Ratalia and Ratonia began to lick my cheeks. Placing his hands on his hips, the townsfolk run up to him in a line. Barking orders, my friends were carried off to the main church. Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, a couple of the kids were struggling with a box of medicine. Sliding my staff into my belt, both of them cheered up at my slender fingers plucking the box from their hands. Staying on my heels on the way to the church, he had them working like a well-oiled machine. Noticing that I was carrying the box, the blonde children giggled behind me. Setting it on the table next to him, there was a lack of good stuff. His shining eyes met mine, his eyes flitting between the wedding bands. Unsure of how to respond, a stiff silence hung in the air.
“Would you allow me to bless your marriage? Good luck can only follow your relationship after such a gift.” He offered sincerely, his hands placing ours together. Jack mumbled something, the images of his family at church flashed in my mind. His family went to church before the program killed them to kidnap him, tears welling up in his eyes. Praying over our rings, a bright light blinded us. The light died down to reveal a strange symbol on our bands, pride glistening in the good father’s eyes the moment he let go. Turning towards me, his hands crossed on his lap. Please don't ask too much of me.
“Come back and get blessed by me when this is all over.” He suggested sweetly, his head snapping in Jack’s direction. “Bring your family as well. I would be honored to have you in my parish.” Excusing myself, my empty footfalls echoed in the streets. Skidding to a rough stop in front of my ship, the armor clanked back into its pocket. Hissing announced my pets’ presence, both of them snuggling into my palms. Smothering them in feverish kisses, long tongues flicked against my cheeks. Letting myself in, a quick change into my mechanic’s suit made me more comfortable. Loading up a cart with a couple of spare generators with the battery rocks, and two thirds of the medicine we had on the ship. Kids and women must have gotten sick and the supply had been too depleted to the bare minimum. Snaking their bodies around mine on the way out, their scales felt like a warm hug. Locking my ship behind me, a rare good mood came over me. Pushing the cart back into town, curious eyes glinted to life at the odd items. Knocking on the heavy wooden doors, a couple of his hooded monks let me in. Father Paldin approached me cautiously, his sharp eyes focusing on the generator. Calling a couple of nuns over, they rushed off with the medicine. Leaning onto my cart, the generator wasn’t something that I wanted to push onto him.
“I don’t know what your religion allows this machine but this is a generator that runs on its own. We will come back with more if you allow it but this is a sure way to keep your people safe in one of your many power outages.” I spoke with a nervous grin, his fingers tracing the metal barrel. “That medicine should last you a few months. Since you are a part of my side now, I will personally deliver whatever you need every six months in exchange for a few goods and shelter that night.” Offering him my hand to shake, his fingers curled around it without a second thought.
“That is almost excellent.” He gushed gleefully, shaking my hand vigorously. “I look forward to you being my president.” Scarlet painted my panicked features, Jack hiding back behind the corner with his trademark guilt ridden grin. Softening my expression enough to keep him in his good mood, the orphans bounced up to Ratalia and Ratonia. Scooping them up, the kids giggled as they slid down their backs. Wagging their tails with excitement, his hearty chuckle seemed to make this situation a bit better. Someone called him over, his smile growing wider. Zoning out for a few minutes, familiar fingers playing with my ears snapped me back to reality. Some explanations were owed.
“Join me on a walk. Icy, stay with our scaly friends.” Jack commanded with a stern expression, a quiet fear hiding underneath my bright smile. Telling my girls to stay, Icy spinning over to smother them with love had them wagging their tails once more. Hooking his elbow around mine, the cool air of the planet lashed at my cheeks. Stealing me away to the docks by our ship, the armor clicked back enough to let us in. Scooping me up, his boots crossed the threshold. Locking the door behind him, his strong arms carried me to the back. Laying me down on the bed, he climbed on behind me. Tears soaked my back, his arms yanking me into a desperate embrace. Burying his head into the back of my neck, the loss of his family was hitting him all over again. Rolling onto my back, his strong arms yanked me on top of him. Holding me like his life depended on it, his snores echoed in my ears. Every attempt to get out of his arms had him embracing me tighter. Giving up, the radio wasn’t too far away. Grasping at it, Icy needed to know what was going on. Kicking the table until it fell into my hand, a couple of clicks had him answering. Explaining the situation, he promised me that he would handle things. Children begged for him to read another story, he hung up with a hearty chuckle. Staring into the darkness, something had me squinting. What was moving in the shadows? Squirming out of his arms, knocks on the outside had the thing with bright eyes scurrying across the ceiling. Leaping to my feet, the door hissed open on its own. The small bit of light revealed a bright yellow tentacle, the color draining from my face. How did a venomous space octopus get in here? Crashing through my ship, a steady stream of curse words flooded from my lips at it heading into the engine room. Plucking my staff from my belt, a quick press to the button had the doors clicking open to let my girls in. Whistling sharply, they took my sides like the obedient bodyguards they were. Creeping down to the engine room, a flash of yellow into the engine had me pounding towards the access panel. Digging through my nearby toolbox, a wave of relief crashed over me at the sight of my favorite screwdriver. Moving a mile a minute, the screws clattered onto the metal floor. Pulling myself in, my girls found their way in. Allowing them to lead the way, their senses were stronger than mine. Maneuvering my way around the cramped spaces, a slick noise had us shrinking into the shadows. Venom from my pets pooled around my feet, both of them watching me dip the tip of my staff in it. Banging my fist on the metal wall, the scurrying noise had chills running up my spine. Hisses alerted me to the slimy yellow mass flying towards me, golden energy mixed with my venom powers. Aiming the end of my staff for its rows of glinting fangs, the wet noise of my staff meeting its organs had nausea wracking my body. Pinning it to the wall, thousands of eyes opening up to bleed had clammy sweat drenching my skin. Must certain aliens look so terrifying! Twisting it in further, the squeals threatened to burst my eardrums. Golden smoke swirled from its mouth, the space spinning around me. Knowing that I pushed myself too far, blood and tissues rained down over me. Flicking everything off, the body wasn’t poisonous. How venomous its slime was, that was a different story. Searching for the lights, the plastic switch grazed the tip of my finger. Clicking it on, a bloody mess had me wincing with regret. Climbing out to get cleaning supplies, crimson painted my cheeks the moment I ran into Jack’s bare chest. Holding up the cleaning supplies, his eager smile hid a darker undertone.
“You running out woke me up. When I saw the slime, I had an idea of what was going on.” He chuckled with an even bigger smile, his arm curling around my waist. “I need my pillow to get through the pain of seeing a church community.” Resting his chin on my head, his tears dripping down my soaking wet strands. The cleaning supplies hit the floor, his finger lifting up my chin. His wet eyes met my exhausted smile, his lips pressing against mine tenderly. Time stopped, our hearts beating to the same song. Walking backwards, he pinned me to the wall. Understanding that he needed me in more ways than one, his lips hovered inches from mine.
“Grant me a lovely evening.” He pleaded adorably, his hand sliding down to my waist. “Anything to forget the pain.” Arching my body towards him, his shaking hand tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. Tossing me over his shoulder, Icy poked his head. Cocking his brow, his quick mind put two and two together. Picking up the cleaning supplies, his order for my girls to stay behind resulted in them cuddling up against him. Hiking through the ship, we found ourselves in the bunks.
“Sorry about calling him back.” He mumbled under his breath, a quiet smile lingering on my lips. “What are you smiling about?” Shrugging my shoulders, the evening became ours.

This month marks six months since my ex (25F) and I (29M) broke up. We had been together for a little over a year, until I found out she had been lying to me so her and her friend (34F) who is also in a relationship, could both go out dancing with other men one night.
I have contemplated posting this story for a long time as the situation still weighs heavily on my mind, she never so much as offered a sincere apology to me and even blamed me for her actions in the end.
This is going to be a long post with 6 months worth of trauma and lingering confusion so readers beware.
For anonymity I'll refer to my ex as "Yesica" her friend as "Jezebel" and her friend's boyfriend as "Eduardo".
This all happened around Halloween of last year, one Friday afternoon she had mentioned to me how she had become mysteriously ill at work and her whole body was aching so she couldn't wait to get home. I found this odd because, one, we were set to go to a Latin Halloween dance cruise on a boat in San Francisco together with her friends the next evening which she had been very excited for the whole month so I knew she wouldn't miss it, and two, because she had displayed a questionable pattern of disappearing the previous two Fridays in a row and texting me back the next day at some ridiculous time like 1pm as if nothing ever happened and we hadn't just gone 24 hours without hearing from each other.
I grew suspicious of this pattern because she had just broken up with me after a night out together the month before as I was crying in my car with her for an hour begging her to let go of a grudge she had been holding against me for 2 months and fix our relationship, then the next morning she sent the most pathetic excuse for saying sorry and that it was for no reason other than that she was drunk, to which I replied "I appreciate your apology" but she didn't respond afterwards and we stayed broken up for 3 more days before she finally said "Let’s just move past this, but this is the last time.” as if she wasn’t the one who broke up with me.
With all of the this in mind, I realized this would be the third Friday in a row that something strange was going on, so I decided to go to her apartment and surprise her with soup from her favorite restaurant and flowers to make her feel better in case she really was sick, or to figure out whether she was really there or not, only to find that her car was nowhere to be seen and there wasn't a single light on in her house.
As I was actually on my way to her house from the restaurant nearby, she texted me around 9pm asking what I was up to so I told her I was just relaxing watching TV so as not to ruin the surprise and asked her the same question, which she didn't answer until 11pm saying "Just chilling too" with sunglasses emojis; after I had already gotten there and waited about an hour and a half seeing that her car wasn't there in the off chance she had gone to her friend's house which was also close by so I could bring the soup and flowers there just in case. Since she was obviously not "chilling" at her house, right away I sarcastically asked "Interesting, what does that entail?" which she surprisingly also quickly replied to saying "Well it entails me being in my warm bed watching movies bc it's f*cking cold and I'm sick" with an extra "Lmao" added at the end.
Knowing now that I was in fact being lied to and possibly even cheated on in my relationship, I threw the soup and flowers in the dumpster behind her house and drove home.
After getting back to my apartment, I didn't hear from her for the rest of the night so I just started drinking Tequila. It had occurred to me that her friend Jezebel who I have heard say she believes she is so sneaky and good at hiding things is a bit silly and follows all of the Instagram pages of the clubs they like to go to, so I checked her following and it didn't take me much longer than 5 minutes to find exactly what I was looking for, but the same club we had went to the night her and I broke up a month earlier just so happened to be having a Halloween Fiebre de Cumbia Party in Oakland that evening, and they had posted a story about 10 minutes after midnight of people doing a group dance with a woman that looked very much like my Yesica. She had a very distinctive hairstyle she would always use with her natural dark hair and the bangs and ends dyed blonde so she could roll it up into two blonde buns on the back of her head, and she had been talking all month about how her and her friend were going to dress up as devils for Halloween so I imagined she would probably be wearing red if she went out. Right away as I viewed the story, my eyes were immediately drawn to a woman with the same hairstyle as Yesica that I described wearing a tight red dress dancing in the group and although the video was blurry I was 90% sure that it was her.
Seeing that I was not only being lied to but that she was there at that very moment and imagining what else that night could possibly lead to and what her intentions were honestly broke me, it made me sick to my stomach and I actually ran to the toilet and threw up the tequila I had been drinking after watching the video. I didn't even have to see her dancing with anybody else to feel utterly betrayed, it was just the fact that I had constantly begged her to spend more time with me throughout our entire relationship as I watched her choose literally everybody and everything else over me and now she was also willing to lie to me because she'd rather spend her time with and get attention from complete strangers instead. It was still early enough in the night that I probably would have drove there myself and caused a scene before they closed, but I was already too drunk to drive so I took one last shot of tequila and went to sleep.
The next day, Saturday, she texted me at 11am saying good morning with a bunch of loving emojis, and I didn't say much to her so as not to raise any suspicions that I knew what she was up to the night before on her end, but told her that I hoped she was having a good morning so far and matched her energy by returning the same emojis and asked her what time she wanted me to get there for the boat dance in SF later that night. To that she replied to me at 2pm saying it had been an early morning for her because as a teacher she had "training" for work which was also unusual for a Saturday, but she had just got done with it, with more sunglasses emojis, and knowing what I knew then that she probably left Oakland around 2am and got home to SF no earlier than 3am, I can almost guarantee you she didn't go to any "training" Saturday morning.
She wanted me to get to her house at 6pm that night, and I was still furious, yet playing it cool over text and when I eventually saw her in person later, even when she miraculously didn't appear to be sick at all. I had every intention of confronting her that same evening, I was going to wait until we got on the boat and it had departed the pier so that she had nowhere to go afterwards, where I imagined that her and her friend would probably ask me to take pictures of them in their costumes and ask me show them how they turned out, before showing both of them the screen recording of the Instagram story from the club the night before to their faces as they looked in confusion and I asked her to explain herself.
Inadvertently, Jezebel's boyfriend Eduardo appeared to have started the drama first that night, before we had even boarded the boat we were all going through security and when it came to be Jezebel's turn they thought she was wearing a backpack so they asked her to spin around but it was actually just the strings on the back of her shirt, Eduardo had thought that Jezebel was just trying to show off her rear to them so he said something along the lines of "Why don't you ask him to feel it so he can see if it's real too?" and this turned into a big argument between them that continued onto the boat and had Jezebel going off and crying as Yesica followed her.
I had gone with Eduardo onto the side of the boat where we spoke briefly as it departed the pier. While we were talking, I asked him if he had been with Yesica and Jezebel the night before and if they went out anywhere as if I was just curious if they did anything fun, to which he answered no, but that he knew that Jezebel said that she had been at Yesica's house that night. Meaning that not only would his statement further contradict what Yesica had told me about being sick, as I doubt Jezebel would be there if she actually was, but that Jezebel had also gone out without Eduardo's knowledge and they had both gone together. After this I looked around to make sure that Yesica wasn't anywhere close by before taking out my phone and showing Eduardo the video of Yesica dancing in the club the night before. I told him that she said she was very sick that night and went home right after work, but when I went to her house to bring her flowers and soup her car was gone and nobody was home. Naturally, he thought this was really weird and immediately asked if I could see Jezebel in the video, but as we both looked and she didn't appear to be in that specific video he began to doubt that it was her because he said that if they had gone out then they would always stick together, which I could say based on our history would probably be true, and I honestly wanted to and started to believe him. I told him about what I planned to do that night and that I didn't know what to do anymore because I knew that if I didn't say anything that this behavior would only continue and I wasn't okay with that either, but he had convinced me that unless I had an undeniably clear video of her where you couldn't say it wasn't her, it probably wasn't worth it, and knowing them, they would probably deny it anyway, so I took his advice and decided to save it for another time.
The issue had still not left my mind however, only now I decided to approach it differently. Halloween was coming up on Tuesday of that week and I asked Yesica what she was doing that day, she said she was going to take Jezebel's three kids trick or treating since Jezebel was taking night classes at college after work and couldn't go with them, so I asked if I could join her because I wanted to see her that night in person. We had a fun time taking the kids out together before dropping them off and going back to Yesica's apartment to talk on the couch. We had a normal conversation for about 30 minutes before I started prodding for information. Since Yesica had told me that she was at home sick Friday night, I casually mentioned that Eduardo was asking about where Jezebel was that night as well on Saturday. She didn't immediately answer the question, but you could tell right away that she got defensive as she went from leaning in towards me the entire conversation to leaning back positioning her head upward as she talked to the ceiling uninterrupted for almost 5 minutes about how "Eduardo just likes to say things to start drama and then gaslights everybody to play the victim" to which I kinda just nodded and said "Hmm." The next thing I asked Yesica was if she had been with Jezebel that night directly, still keeping it casual, as I was trying to determine whether she went out on her own that night or with Jezebel which I honestly would have preferred as opposed to the former cause I thought that at least then they probably would have just danced with each other, and so she couldn't backtrack on any of her statements if one of her answers turned out to be contradictory later, to which she answered "Yeah, we hung out for a bit but not for long because I was sick like I said." so she was still not showing any sings of slipping up in her story. An important thing to note is that Jezebel and Eduardo had been constantly arguing in the weeks leading up to this, it seemed as if every time we all went out together one of them got upset with the other, and it had not shown any sign of getting any better at this point. Knowing this, I asked Yesica that if Jezebel had ever been mad at Eduardo and just wanted to go out without him, would she ever tell me about it, and I assured her that she could and I'd never say a word to Eduardo because the only person I was loyal to was her, and to this she became slightly defensive again. She asked "What do you mean, like hypothetically?" so I said yeah, or just in general, and all she could say to answer was "I mean yeah, I always tell you what I'm doing and what I'm up to." as her look grew increasingly concerned. This led me into my final question, where I asked, so if you were at home sick Friday, and Jezebel wasn't with you either, is there any reason why I might find something on the internet that would lead me to believe that you weren't where you said you were that night?
She pretended to act confused, while still looking concerned, and said "Like what?" so I took out my phone and handed it to her with the video from the Instagram story which I had trimmed down and placed on a loop so that it played only the part showing her in it. She stared at the screen silently for about 30 seconds before finally saying "The Cumbia place?" to which I answered yeah, with somebody who looks just like you, with the same exact hairstyle you have right now, wearing a red dress like you did Saturday night too. I still hadn't blatantly accused her at this point, but I calmly asked her as I started to become choked up myself, "Is that you?" She couldn't look me in the face when she answered, but she shook her head left and right as she continued to stare at the phone and nonchalantly said "That isn't me." before handing it back. I hadn't even told her that I had gone to her house yet, which I did next by saying that it wasn't even until after I went to her apartment and saw that her car was gone and there were no lights on in her house the same time she told me she was laying in bed that I found the video so I asked her to explain that to me, and she tried to play it off by saying “You know how bad parking gets here, I had to park far away that time, but I was in my room before going to bed like I said I was and the lights were on in there.” But I can tell you right now that both of these statements were false, as I drove around the entire block and more to make sure that her car wasn’t there specifically so that I didn’t make any false accusations towards her and I didn’t see it parked anywhere, even in places we parked before when we had gotten back very late at night, there were still plenty of spots available. I also had to walk past the back of her house when I took the flowers and soup I had brought for her to the dumpster, and none of the lights nor a flicker from the tv in her room were visible not even 5 minutes after she had said she was laying in bed watching movies either. I didn't even know what to say at this point, and its honestly hard to remember what happened after that because it was such an adrenaline rush at that moment, I could feel my heart pounding, but I remember asking her "Are you sure? Because if it was just that Jezebel was mad at Eduardo like I asked and you tell me I won't be upset." I honestly would have forgiven her right then and there if she had just told the truth to me, but she swore that wasn't it either and again said she wasn't there as she grew increasingly more defensive and said that it was starting to feel like I was accusing her. I tried to reassure her that I wasn't accusing her, I was just asking, which was why I was there with her now, but it only seemed to make her even more mad. She asked "Is that all you came here for? Why didn't you say anything on Saturday?" to which I answered no, I actually enjoyed the time I was able to spend with her that night, and I was planning on saying something on Saturday, but that would have sounded a lot more accusatory so I took a few days to collect my thoughts. She said something along the lines of it wasn't her and she has always been honest with me one last time, and I told her "Okay, if that's what you say to me, I believe you. But just like you have expectations of me in the relationship, I have the same expectations of you, and if I find out later on that you weren't honest with me, I won't tolerate those things either." We both sat in silence for several minutes later as neither of us had anything else to say, I continued to glance over at her in case she said anything else or had a change of heart after what I had just said, but she just concentrated away from me with a blank stare at the floor. I told her I should probably get going now, so I got up as she walked me downstairs to the door and we didn't even exchange goodbye's or hug or kiss, I just stepped outside and left.
I left knowing full well that she had just lied to my face. Despite the video quality being poor in the Instagram story and what Eduardo had said on the boat, as much as I wanted to believe him, I wasn't stupid either. There were far too many inconsistencies for it not to be true, as much as I wish I would have been wrong, there's no one else that looks like her, and I knew that it was her in the video. I just never thought that she would have lied to me. But I also knew that more information would come out eventually, as it's a monthly event at the club and they always post videos from the previous occasion on their Instagram in the lead up to the next date, so all I had to do was wait.
I texted her goodnight after I had gotten home about 45 minutes later, which I didn't expect her to reply to, but she never said good morning or anything else all day Wednesday either. Thursday also passed without hearing anything from her, so I sent a text to her earlier in the evening before she probably would have been asleep saying "Goodnight, I hope you have a great day tomorrow" and she still didn't respond. Friday passed without hearing anything from her, and eventually on Saturday afternoon I reached out and said "It's been 4 days now, will you please talk to me?" and she answered saying "What so you can take your time when you get pissed but I can't take time to think things over?" I knew exactly what she was doing now.
She was pretending to be fake mad to get revenge for a time where I hadn't talked to her for 3 days after a heated argument 2 months earlier, also revolving around her going out to a club with her friend, except this time it was because it was a Friday afternoon and I had texted her at 2pm asking her how her day was going and what she was doing later because I was hoping we might be able to see each other that evening. 5pm rolls around and she responds "good" to me asking how her day went, but doesn't bother saying anything about what she's doing later. I try to call her a short while after as I'm all cleaned up, dressed, and ready to go just in case we were able to see each other that night and she doesn't answer my call. She never answered my calls in fact, even with her apple watch on her wrist, so I know that she always saw them, but that's beside the point. At 10pm she finally tells me that she's going to an all-girls reggaeton event with Jezebel in SF and sends me the information for the event, which isn't even what bothered me, it was the fact that I asked her those two questions at 2pm and she selectively chose to answer one and not the other almost as if she didn't want me to know about it until she was already there or on her way, and maybe it was my fault for assuming we might see each other on a Friday night like couples in a serious relationship typically do and we had consistently been doing, but I felt like an idiot sitting around in my house for 8 hours waiting to get a response to a simple question from her and couldn't even get her to answer or return my call. I was frustrated to say the least, but not mad, so I just let her do her own thing and went to sleep for the night.
The next morning, I told her that I really didn't appreciate her not telling me what her plans were until it was so late in the evening, especially when she had saw my messages and responded to one and not the other, I reiterated to her that I literally wouldn't have cared if she had told me earlier, I would have told her go ahead and have fun, but the fact that she didn't made me think that she feels she needs to hide things from me. I don't know why, but this immediately caused her to blow up. She responded viciously saying that it was because they were last minute plans, but that she doesn't need to ask for my permission to do anything, and that she had no reason to hide anything from me, if anything, if she would have known that I would have been bothered by it she would have never told me about it at all. I was dumbfounded by this response and admittedly went on the offense myself. I clarified to her that at no time have I ever told her that I want her to ask for permission before doing anything, nor did I expect it at any time in the future, I even sent a screenshot of the text I had sent immediately before highlighting the part where I said I literally wouldn't have cared if she had just told me earlier, and then went on to explain that the reason why I asked her what she was doing later was because I wanted to see her that evening, I wasn't just asking her for no reason at all, and I dedicated my weekends entirely to her so I just thought it would have been a common courtesy to tell somebody you're in a relationship with on days you usually spend time together that you may have plans that would mean otherwise.
To which all she said was "Ok."
Ok? Ok, what? Ok, you understand? or Ok, you don't give a f*ck? because I couldn't tell anymore. This drove me completely over the edge. I had never felt so disregarded by any woman I had ever dated in my life. It was like every time I expressed my feelings or concerns to her in the relationship she took it as a personal attack and was completely incapable of constructive communication, and she did this every time. I was honestly ready to just tell her "You know what, this isn't gonna work out anymore" or say something else that would have hurt her feelings. But I did not want to do that. I literally did not have anything good to say to her for 3 days until I had collected my thoughts, so I just didn't say anything at all. But neither did she, and on the third day I had finally calmed myself down and apologized to her saying that I was sorry if what I had first said came off as accusatory. She on the other hand was still enraged so we went back and forth a bit for a few more days as I tried to deescalate the conflict until we eventually settled and went on a trip to Las Vegas the following weekend.
So this is why she ignored me for 4 days after confronting her about lying to go to the club with her friend, and seeing as how everything I had suspected turned out to be true, she had no reason to do this other than to get revenge for the time I didn't talk to her for 3 days when I was actually upset with her.
When she did finally talk to me after the 4th day of purposefully ignoring me, she tripled down on her position, saying "I'm not going to be telling you every single thing that I'm doing or who I am with, or where as if you're my mom/dad. As for your accusations, if you don't trust me that's your issue I can't help you there. At this point in the relationship, I think you should know what kind of person I am and if you don't like it then we can stop this because I am not changing who I am just to make people or you happy." This was the moment I realized that she really just didn't care at all, like even if she didn't hadn't lied to me, which she did, why go out of your way to say such a thing to someone you supposedly say you love. I tried to play it off and sent an agreeable message in appeasement, "I believe your word that is enough. I never asked you to do anything differently and you didn't do anything wrong so I don't see any reason why you would have to change anything about yourself. So long as we're still holding each other accountable to the same values we agreed upon when we established our relationship I don't see any problem here. Like you've always said, just don't do anything you wouldn't want me doing, or that will be the end of that for me too." I was honestly still willing to let the whole thing slide just this one time, even at this point. My relationship with her meant too much to me to let it go over what I still had hoped was just another girl's night out, although the damage to trust built within our relationship had still been done. I was willing to look past it so long as I didn't learn more such as if she had been dancing with another man.
Two weeks passed and everything had returned to normal, she was being nice to me again, we were seeing each other regularly, and we had just spent a few days together over Veteran's day weekend. I continued checking the Instagram page of the club every night as the next event was coming up that Friday. One Wednesday night around 7pm, the club had posted a video to their page, this was a professionally edited video uploaded in high quality this time and not just a story. In this video, I was able to see Yesica perfectly clear. She was facing toward the camera, I could make out all the features of her face, there was no way you couldn't say it wasn't her, and she was with another man. My heart sank immediately. The video must have replayed about 10 times as I watched in disbelief. Jezebel was in the video too, and she was dancing with another man that wasn't Eduardo. I screen recorded the video, trimmed it, zoomed it, enhanced it, and put it on a loop so that it focused on Yesica as I had done before. I saved it to my phone as I contemplated which actions to take next.
This was the red line for me. Yesica had crossed it. To those unfamiliar with Cumbia, it is a form of dancing that could be considered as Latin social dancing such as salsa and bachata. There are group dances, cordial dances, and couple's dances. What she was doing was not the dance where everybody dances in a circle, this was the couple's dance where they had their hands on each other's backs and waists, bodies close together facing each other, and everything. I had been to that same club with Yesica as I mentioned before myself and there is lots of alcohol, flashing lights, and the music is loud. There are some people who might say that Cumbia is an innocent form of dancing and they wouldn't care if their partner danced with another person which I could understand, to each their own, it didn't bother me when Yesica danced with someone else on occasions that I had accompanied her either and it did happen, I didn't like it, but I was unbothered because I was there. But one thing I can tell you about the men who go to such events is that I can guarantee you there is not a single one there that goes just because they like to dance Cumbia, and it is not a situation I would be comfortable with my significant other placing themselves in alone, especially in an environment like that. I know for a fact that Yesica would not have been okay with it if I had done the same to her because we explicitly stated during a conversation at the beginning of our relationship establishing our boundaries and expectations that we didn't want each other alone with someone of the opposite gender while either of us wasn't around, in fact she was the one who said this herself, and she broke those promises that we had made to each other.
And that is the entire principle of this post, contrary to what Yesica and Jezebel would have themselves believe, I didn't come to the decision that I made because she chose to go out dancing one time, I got there based on the fact that she lied to me to do it. She showed me that she was willing to lie to me to do things I wouldn't be okay with behind my back, she was willing to lie to me so she could spend an entire evening with a whole other man, and she was willing to lie to my face when I had asked her for the truth. Knowing what she did the first time that I had confronted her, I didn't have any reason to believe that going to her house and talking about it a second time would end any different. There was no scenario where I imagined her taking accountability for her actions and sincerely apologizing, she had never done it once before, otherwise I probably would have gave her another chance. She always blamed me, every time that I had expressed my concerns to her before she found a way to make it my fault and ended up manipulating me into making me be the one who had to apologize for bringing it up in the first place, and I just couldn't imagine myself doing that one more time, not for this. So I decided to break up with her.
I sent her the video along with a short text "Hey Yesica, I don't want to be in a relationship with you anymore. Say what you want to turn this around on me or make it my fault somehow but I can clearly see that that's you with another man and I don't even care enough to argue about it with you I'm just done. I was honestly hoping to get a ring and propose to you soon but I couldn't imagine myself marrying a woman who makes up stories to go out clubbing behind my back and then lies to my face when I ask about it, you knew exactly what you were doing and I know it wasn't a mistake so this is the result. I'll let you go now so you can continue running around doing whatever you want since that's obviously more valuable to you. Good luck with your life I guess." As the message said delivered, I broke down and began wailing.
This was one of the worst pains I ever had to experience in my life, despite all our differences, I did deeply love her unlike anybody else I had ever loved before, and I was planning on proposing to her only a month later on an international trip to Mexico we had planned together over Christmas. I wanted to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her, and this was the first time I ever had to be the one who had to let go of the person they still loved.
I didn't hear anything from Yesica at all after that. Not a sorry, not an I understand, not a I respect your decision, nothing. But I don't blame her.
As time went by, it was still the only thing that occupied my mind. I knew Yesica wouldn't talk to me, nor should I reach out to her at that time either, but I still had questions I sought answers for, I just wanted to know why. So I decided to reach out to Jezebel. We went back and forth a bit as she blamed me for the break up, saying things could have ended differently if I had just talked to her in person, but I let my emotions get to me instead. She didn't appear to be aware that in reality I had done just that and talked to her in person 2 weeks before while giving her every opportunity and more to tell the truth, as I would have preferred because I would have forgiven her if she had just been honest with me, but she chose to lie. As I told her this and continued to ask for the reasoning behind all of it which she had been refusing to answer all she could say was "I don't know, maybe she was scared of losing you, but again you chose to act out of your emotions, and it was just dancing, so what, I don't know what else you want me to say you acted wrong and now you're talking to me, oh well" I was beginning to lose my patience with Jezebel. But after refuting her claims and pushing a bit more the truth seemed to finally come out, I had mentioned that I had been getting advice from Eduardo on the situation prior to the break up as well as I had shown him the first video that only had Yesica in it and she quickly answered "First of all don't involve Eduardo in this conversation, he didn't know we went, that's another story, my story." So it would seem that my suspicions surrounding the idea that they had gone because she was just mad at Eduardo were true.
This changed my perspective on everything. I did end up sending a long drawn out message to Yesica apologizing for the way which I handled things and explained every reason why I made the decision I did, and that I understood if she had not wanted to reconcile either, but I never heard anything back from her.
It was now late December and had been two weeks since I had spoken to Jezebel last and I had still not heard anything from Yesica. I was now mad at Jezebel as I saw this whole situation being her fault more than anyone else's at this point, I still had more I had to say to her. I messaged her one day saying "Hey what's up Jezebel, hope you're doing good. Quick question, if going out and dancing with other men is no big deal like you say it's not and Eduardo doesn't care, why didn't you just tell him Hey Eduardo I'm gonna go dance with other men tonight, it's no big deal right? Just curious" This pissed her off having her say "OMG really? Please stop trying to blame others for your actions, the issue is not me dancing it's you and your decisions not me" but I was prepared for it so I ripped into her. “I’m not blaming anyone for my actions, yes I take responsibility for what I did. And what I did was hold Yesica responsible for her lying. Because your friend is not the only one who didn't do anything wrong. And all that you've told me from all the messages that you sent me is that you basically think it's okay to lie. Because you have completely failed to acknowledge that fact this whole time. The problem is not my reaction, the problem is your friend’s dishonesty and I'm sure any other self respecting man with a backbone wouldn't tolerate that either. And that is the problem that I have with you, because for whatever reason you wanted to go out I'm sure it was your idea for Yesica to tell me a bullsh*t story that night. And the problem is not that I won't tolerate a liar, the problem is the only person who hasn't taken responsibility for their actions is your friend. She is not the victim in this situation because she did this to herself.” To my surprise it silenced her.
3 hours later, even more to my surprise, I hear from Yesica for the first time since the break up saying “I’m reaching out to you to have some closure and to say sorry for how things came about, l didn't know how to deal with things and it was my fault for lying. You are a good person, you were nice to me and I truly wish you the best and I hope you find the person that deserves you. And please do not bring in anyone else into how the situation ended, we are both responsible and I wish you nothing but the best. I kindly ask to leave things as is I need time to process all this but I truly wish you the best.” Given that I had just been barking at Jezebel and this sorry was not as sincere as I hoped or believed I deserved as it was likely only to get me to leave Jezebel alone, I took it as the best I would probably ever get from her and said “Thank you for finally saying something to me Yesica, I accept your apology and I forgive you for all that has happened. I will respect your wishes to leave Jezebel and Eduardo alone and give you some time and space to yourself. Maybe I'm the one who's naive, but I still love you and hope we can find a way to make it back to each other. I agree that things should be left as they are for the time being and if we were to work things out a serious conversation needs to be had about how we will move forward, but I will leave that up to you to decide if or when that ever happens. You can always reach out to me and I’ll still have your contact saved in my phone, take care”
3 months after the break up in February, I can't help but reach out to Yesica one more time. I still loved her and missed her so much, I just wanted to know why she made the choices she did and sought real closure myself. I sent her a short message asking "Hey Yesica, can we talk?" I'm not upset or looking to debate you, I just want to know some of the reasons behind why you did what you did. Was it just me? Did you just not care anymore? It's the only thing that's been on my mind after all of this time" Sadly, she took up the same position as Jezebel saying “Hi, first of all you are the one who broke up with me. You let your emotions get to you instead of talking about it in person. After that happened, it got me thinking about everything we went through. We both made bad choices that lead to this situation, after you broke up with me it made me reflect on how things fell apart and it got too overwhelming for both us, you were the one who made the last decision and that's where we are now. Instead of trying to figure me out… figure out your thoughts and decisions...” And that's where things been left ever since then, we both have each other blocked on everything.
I personally feel like as though I obviously could have handled things better than I did, but ultimately made the right decision in breaking up regardless of the manner in which I did it, and all of my friends and family have come to an agreement with me, that if she wants to party and act single, she deserves to be single. I just know someone who actually loved me never would have done any of those things she did to me. Even I would never consider doing such a thing to her, I would be completely disgusted with myself. Nor did I ever do anything to her that was even remotely close to this. I was the sweetest person I could be to her and went above and beyond to make her happy because that’s when I was happiest. When she expressed herself I was caring and attentive, and when I expressed myself it was always my fault. But it's just sad because I was her first boyfriend that she had ever had before, so I never would have imagined something like this of a girl like her. I just see that as straight up disloyalty, and would personally even consider it as essentially cheating. But I don’t blame her entirely, I see this as her friend's fault more than anything, I just wish she would have chosen better examples to follow. Despite what all of my friends and family have said towards the contrary, she is still the one who said it was my fault and unfortunately it has been her opinion which has weighed heavily on me the most. Some days I find myself asking if it really was my fault and even find myself believing it. But I wanted to know what Reddit thinks so that's why I am here.
TLDR:
My ex girlfriend lied about being sick one night so she could go out to the club with her friend
I found out about it via an Instagram story and calmly confronted her about it in person a few days later
She lied to my face when I showed her the Instagram story from the club and said that it wasn’t her
She proceeded to not talk to me for 4 days and pretended to be fake mad just to get revenge
When she did finally talk to me, she tripled down on it saying if I didn’t trust her that was my problem, but she’s not changing herself to make me or anybody else happy and if I didn't like it we could just break up
Two weeks later another video from the club gets posted in much higher quality than the story where you can not only clearly see that it is in fact her, but it was her doing a couples dance with another man
I send her the video immediately after its posted and instead of driving an hour to her house to be gaslit, manipulated, or blamed again like she did before and many times in the past, I break up with her over text
3 months later I reach out to my ex for closure trying to get an explanation for her actions and she offers none, saying the break up was my fault because I didn't talk to her in person and communicate when in reality I had done just that 2 weeks prior to breaking up and she chose to lie and play games instead
AITAH?

Hello, my POTS symptoms were escalating past few months to the point I had to order myself for appointment to my doctor, for blood tests and possible (i hope) referal to cardiologist. So I'm not officialy diagnosed yet. However, i had trouble with my cycle years back when I had low iron, i bled heavily, had cramps to the point i threw up/passed out from them and other uncomfortable symptoms. Last month, my period even got a little late, which im not used to. When it came, again- suffering. The flow was heavy, i had aches, cramps, but the worst thing was the extreme fatigue. I couldnt even walk to get a snack. I had to cancel appoitment with my gyn (i was suppused to get IUD placed, but i guess i'll have to wait until i manage this) and i wasnt able to call her since. My next period is approaching slowly,and i can already feel im getting more and more exhausted. Do any of you have tips for managing fatigue during menstruation? Or generally any tips to manage the whole cycle with POTS?

Somehow I found the ability to pull the bathroom door open and ran as fast as I could all the way down the steps, snagging my keys and phone from the table in the living room before running outside to my car. I could hear her shrill laughter behind me but I didn't hear her getting closer. I didn't bother shutting the front door. I drove away from the house faster than I legally should have, shivering the entire time, either from fear or the cold. Maybe a little of both. I hadn't grabbed a coat or even a pair of shoes. I was still in my boxers and my hair was still damp.
I drove straight to my brother Chris's house about 40 minutes away, ignoring any and every call and text I got. I didn't check my phone until I was safely parked in my brother's driveway. Lynn had called 4 times and sent a flurry of texts, all wondering where I'd gone and why I left "like that."
I threw my phone at the dash in a rage, furious at her nonchalant attitude. My brother and his wife were surprised to see me, especially dressed in just a pair of boxers, but told me to stay as long as I needed. Chris lent me some clothes and asked me what happened. I told him Lynn and I had a fight, but didn't get into the details. I didn't want him to think I was overreacting, leaving my wife over a prank, even if it was a strange one. I mean, hadn't I encouraged her for years to lighten up instead of being so serious all the time? I had wanted her to relax and loosen up, but this was definitely not what I'd had in mind.

I tried to sleep on their sofa, but my brain wouldn't let me sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Lynn's face staring at me from inside the closet. Knowing she'd been in there with me the entire time made my skin crawl. She'd never left the fucking bathroom at all. Instead she slipped inside the closet and slammed the bathroom door shut to fool me.
The mere thought of going back home gave me anxiety. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Chris ended up giving me a sleeping pill so I was able to get a little rest. My sleep was filled with terrible dreams. All of Lynn's smiling face.
I woke up just as the sun started to rise. My sore body ached from the sofa, and I felt drained. I knew I'd have to call Lynn at some point, but I didn't know what to say to her. I wouldn't be going home unless she gave me her word she'd never do anymore creepy shit.
I just wanted my wife back. Her normal serious self never looked so good to me.
I was contemplating calling her and telling her that, when that familiar feeling came over me. I was being watched. I was staring at the ceiling, my heart in my throat. I didn't want to look away but the longer I ignored the feeling the worse it got.
My eyes drifted away from the ceiling almost on their own. Her face was pressed up against the window beside the couch, staring down at me with that same gaping smile. Drool dribbled down her lips, leaving two long streaks down the glass. I didn't know how long she'd been there, but something told me she'd been there quite a while, possibly all night.
I didn't bother screaming, though I was afraid anger trumped any fear I felt at that moment. I jumped up from the couch and pounded my palm against the glass.
"Lynn! Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you? Just go home!" I shouted. "Now!"
She didn't move, and her ghastly expression never changed. If anything her smile only grew, as if she had never been more elated.
I could hear Chris and his wife moving around upstairs. As if Lynn could hear them from her place outside, her head twitched slightly in their direction, and she began to close her mouth slowly.
Chris called my name from upstairs, obviously concerned. I turned to see him and his wife Rebecca hurrying down the steps. Subscribe for part 3

They left me. Dear God, they left me. They really fucking left me. I’m… What, millions of miles away from home?! I’m hiding in one of the bunkers on this God-forsaken planet.. M.I.A, no reinforcements, no objective, starving, and I’ve been her for God-knows-how-long. I’m alone with those THINGS. THE DEATH TOLL IS ALWAYS CLIMBING, THE MORTALITY RATE IS ALWAYS CLIMBING. THERE ARE NO “VETERAN HELLDIVERS”, BECAUSE WE NEVER SURVIVE ONE MISSION! WE’RE NOT MEANT TO SURVIVE! Please, someone, anyone come. I didn’t ask for this, for enlistment. They promised adventure, liberation, heroism. THEY LIED! I still hear the screams, the smell of the blood, the cries of my comrades. God, I’m so sorry, Anna. I’m sorry I was enlisted before our anniversary. I’m sorry I won’t see Henry's fourth birthday. I’m so fucking sorry
The rest was completely illegible, even to Styer’s trained eyes. Maybe it was the tear stains, or the dried bloodstains that took up half the yellowed paper, but for all of him, Styer could not read the bottom half. He adjusted his white collar, and tugged at his light red tie. He had read through and destroyed tens of hundreds of these types of “traitorous” notes and transmissions, to ensure these never reach the public. The Ministry of Truth had put him, and countless others in charge of what they called “Filtering”. It was a long and arduous process that took hours, but when he moved to the small incinerator beside him to finish off the process his body had practically saved in its memory; he hesitated. This struck a chord in him, one worse than all the others had. His black eyebrows knitted together as he re-read the paper for what seemed like the fiftieth time. Well, to be fair; he was trained to skim-read through them, then throw the damn things to the incinerator, but today.. He didn’t. For one, he was glad nobody was present at his little cubicle besides himself and his still-on computer, displaying the flag of Super Earth. Any sort of hesitation was an act of high treason, and punishable by death on the spot. Normally, there would be two specialized “Eighters” keeping watch over him and the countless other “Filtration enlistees”, but there seemed to be a lapse in security. One Styer was thankful to Lady Liberty for. A cold sweat beaded on the back of Styer’s neck, as he felt the heat through the vents even as it spilled ice-cold air. He could faintly hear the sound of boots stamping on concrete, and the sound of dying engines coming from above. After two quick glances around his surroundings, and ensuring the camera was turned in the opposite direction of him, Styer quickly stuffed the note in his coat pocket, almost fully concealing the small paper.
Mars Docking Bay September 27th, 2184, 1200 Hours.
The brisk winds of the Red Planet hit Uzi like the most welcoming sucker punch as the VTOL’s ramp dropped, especially after the “training” that was Hellmire. Just thinking of that planet sent a chill down the worker’s spine. God, she wanted to never return to that planet. Those bug things, and that absolutely fucking horrible smell would surely haunt her dreams for months to come. The docking bay was a breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively. It was the first time Uzi had seen this many living humans. People were pushing carts full of equipment, Helldivers were being saluted, and soft jazz played from the speakers overhead. Wait, was that… Cantina Band? Uzi could’ve sworn that it was Star Wars music playing, but it had a different rhythm. Uzi grabbed at her hair slightly, slightly frowning at the feeling of a small Super Earth pin on the fabric as she walked down the ramp along with the seasoned Helldiver and the rest of the drones. The Sergeant had taken the beanie and stuck a pin on it, due to it being “Important for patriotic duties.” The moment the group stepped a single foot on the ground level of the dock, they were met with suspicious, almost angered glances from almost everyone besides Andrew, who guided the confused drones throughout the mass of humans. Some were in blue and black work uniforms, others in black and golden armor, but without Helldiver helmets, keenly watching the people and putting up posters glorifying Super Earth and the Helldivers. Andrew had no need to push past the people, for they made way for him, as if the Helldiver was some Royal. “This,” He began, turning around to the drones and throwing his hands up, walking backwards with seemingly no care at all. “Is how us Helldivers are treated. We’re basically the guardians of all things Liberty, so they owe everything to us. I hope you all know how to act rich, because I sure as hell don’t.” Turning back around, the Sergeant picked up speed, albeit slightly. The sound of a car engine humming was barely heard through the constant noise and the sounds of ships docking and taking off, but the humming got louder the more they proceeded to the other side of the dockyard.
After what seemed like a century of walking, they finally were graced by a flight of stairs, and an armored car that looked more like an APC than a regular transport vehicle. Uzi took a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing as she tried to will away all of the possibilities that were going fifty-over in her CPU. She turned to J, the two normally sworn enemies sharing nervous glances as they all proceeded down the marble stairs. V’s hand brushed against the freezing gold railing in the middle of the stairwell as she tried to push yesterday’s incident out of her mind. Yet for all her efforts, it would not stop replaying in her head, as if it was her only core memory set to replay.“Alright, get your asses on the Freedom Brick, as I call it.” Andrew broke the silence the moment they had finished descending, gesturing to the open back doors. J gulped as she stepped in, taking the rear velvet-colored seat. They were oddly comfortable for an APC, and there was even a walnut armrest to the left of her. She was soon followed by Rex clamoring into the front seat, then Uzi in the back with the other three. The two drones made a short, yet incredibly spiteful bout of glares before Uzi took her seat at the front.
Then came N and V, the two taking opposite seats. Uzi blinked hard, her body shaking ever so slightly as the worker tried to piece everything together. It had all happened so quickly; it seemed blurry. God, Uzi was getting a migraine just trying to piece it all together. Uzi rubbed the ache between her optics as best she could as the doors slammed shut, making her and some of the other drones jump as the APC took off. Her mind wandered off, thinking of Copper-9.

She wouldn’t say it was simpler times back then; it was far from a happy life, much less a simple one. Her thoughts wandered to her father, to Doll, the prom incident, and meeting that space girl. What was her name…? Tessa? Uzi was far too stressed, tired, and on edge to remember. Every jolt of the car, every bump in the road, and the faint radio playing were all multiplied by twenty. Trying to ignore the constant thudding in her heart, Uzi pressed three fingers to the side of her visor, turning on her playlist yet again. She began to slightly sway her head to the music, lulling her head back and trying to will her body to relax into her seat. Uzi forced an exhale as she listened to the song’s somber melody, tapping the outside of her thigh to the rhythm.
*Underneath the bridge, tarp has sprung a leak… And the animals I've trapped have all become my pets… And I'm livin’ off of grass, and the drippings from my ceiling… It’s okay to eat fish, cuz’ they don’t have any feelings….*Every time the worker was just about to be lured into unconsciousness, the car's constant jolting would startle her at least half-awake. For all of their constant speak of Liberty and paradise, one would think they would be able to flatten out their damn roads.

Something in the way… hmmm-mmm… Something in the way, yeah. Mmmm-hmmm…

Uzi rarely got much of any sleep at all due to the newfound burning discomfort of the seats, and the constant screeching of the bugs, the gunfire… The corpses. Uzi shook her head, leaning her elbows on her knees as best she could, trying to once again will away the gnawing feeling of dread that accompanied thinking of Hellmire. It was practically three hundred thousand degrees down there. Well, Uzi didn't know the exact temperature, but it sure as hell felt like it. The way sweat streamed down her visor like she had just sucked in all of Niagara Falls’ water, and it was now all spilling out was incredibly exhausting. Uzi was just about to let out a groan and toss in her seat when the vehicle came to a halt. J and V were fast asleep in their seats, their arms slumped on the armrest in a position that would no doubt give them both one helluva cramp, and their bodies were relaxed in the faux leather. Edge, meet Uzi. Yeah, the worker was on edge, in a major way. Thousands of questions and scenarios swarmed her mind like thousands of maggots designed to chip away at sanity instead of bodies. By one-thirty, the APC had come to a halt by some sort of security checkpoint. Uzi didn’t know, she couldn’t see half of anything from her seat. But she could see just enough to make out what it was by slightly stretching up and looking over her shoulder through the small window behind her seat. Preventing the APC from going much further than five feet was a dual boom gate, controlled by an operator cabin on each side, the white yellow and blue lights slowly blinking as if they had run out of battery. In front of the two cabins were two soldiers. They were heavily armored, but Uzi couldn’t quite see the weapons they carried, but it was safe to assume they were just as big as their wielders. Juggernauts, that was for one. Both in mass and in height. They looked like they could squash N on a rainy day. The two soldiers stood at perfect attention, not moving a muscle; as if they were toys yet to turn on.

The checkpoint was guarding what looked to be a tunnel going under Mars' surface, but there were no lights illuminating the passway. At least, no lights Uzi had seen. The checkpoint itself was a muted, yet oddly clean darkish-blue. The two operating cabins' front-facing windows were tinted to the point of complete invisibility. Uzi felt an ice-cold fear slither down her spine like a snake slithering towards its prey as one of the soldiers marched towards the driver's window. It was almost robotic, almost preprogrammed. They exchanged words that Uzi could barely hear at all. But just as the soldier began to march back to his post, the drone could've sworn they had looked dead in her eyes for a split second too long. Even through the gas masks that made their eyes look like two voids, Uzi could tell. That pair of eyes burned into her very soul for a second too long. Another cold chill ran its way down her spine, and everything seemed to get colder. The APC once again accelerated, almost throwing Uzi out of her seat and forcing Uzi to turn back around as the armored vehicle slowly passed over the once-guarded tunnel, the boom guards raising up just enough for the APC to pass over it. They entered the underground entrance just as hundreds of overhead lights clicked on almost instantly, its silent hum quickly overtaken by the echo of tires on pavement as the APC picked up speed. A mix of fear and excitement coursed through Uzi's veins as the APC sped down the long tunnel. The music that was once playing smoothly was now choppy, stuttering and buffering to the point of unintelligibility, and was accompanied with occasional static. The electric guitar riffs that now came off as nails on a chalkboard, drums that sounded like guns being fired right next to her auditory receptors, and vocals were now almost ear-piercingly distorted to the point of Uzi barely being able to make out the most of the lyrics.

I must'a died alone… A long, long time ago… You're face… To face… With the man who sold the world…

Okay, now this was beginning to get on her nerves. Uzi irritatedly turned off the music, playing with her fingers as the seconds ticked by. Excitement was soon overtaken by fear as the teen tensed. As much as she tried to push out the fear, or at least trap it in a secluded corner of her mind, the primal emotion always seemed to seep out like small tendrils bending the bars of its imprisonment, waiting for the perfect hour to break through any and all defenses and overwhelm the young drone as quickly and devastatingly as a cyclone. Minutes drained into hours as the APC finally came to a stop. Just a couple seconds after, the back doors flew open, and the four drones were roughly grabbed and thrown out of the APC by four different juggernauts. The next thing the worker knew, she, along with the rest of the drones were being pinned down by some sort of metal dog that bared its sharp teeth at her, saliva dripping from its mouth and bubbling at the rims. Though Uzi wasn't able to see their weapons earlier, even through her pained and swimming vision from landing back-first on titanium flooring, she could just make out the small flames that sprouted from the nozzle of their weapons. Her heart hammered in her chest as she frantically turned her head to V, now wide awake and panicked. She was trying to squirm out of the hold of the hound, but the more she squirmed, the more it barked and snapped its jaws at her, making V lean into the titanium flooring as best she could, trying to create some distance between those razor-sharp teeth and her head.

In the corner of her eye, J spotted Andrew. He circled around them almost casually, as if determining what to say. J’s body shook with anger, but she held her tongue. The last time she had done something like this, it ended with a splitting headache on her end. “Don't worry, they're not gonna kill you. You're gonna be taken in for questioning, then you'll be trained as Helldivers.” He explained. Even still, that didn't serve to calm the four drones much, if at all. “If it helps any, I really didn't know this was going to happen. Only learned; like… A couple hours ago. Alright, goodnight.”

Each of the four drones felt a sharp pain in their neck, then their vision slowly darkened, and the pain numbed. The last thing they saw was those hounds, as bloodthirsty and animalistic as ever, saliva still dripping from their mouths and onto the drones’ clothes. Then nothing.

Mars under Super Earth Control, 1500 Hours, September 27th, 2184.

When J came to, darkness surrounded her. It was almost peaceful. Peace. That was something J had never felt at all. She never remembered feeling at peace…. Well, ever. This was new, unnerving even. Hell, the drone was half-tempted to think they had killed her. A sudden, and bright white light shining directly in her face proved her wrong, making the drone wince and shut one eye; instinctively moving her head to the left in a futile attempt to shield her optics from the light that blinded the Apostle Paul. She leaned back, and cold metal pressed against her, sending a chill of equally as cold fear down her spine. Her optics hollowed, questions and possibilities running through her mind at thousands of miles an hour. Cotton brushed against her arms and back, loosely so. Her heart rate skyrocketed, and she felt lightheaded the more she looked down at the ceil blue gown she was in. Was she in a hospital gown?
Then the pain came. It was a searing, slow-building pain that started off as a dull sensation, and grew into a white-hot, burning, stinging agony. It started at her torso, then spread throughout her body like a cancer. J’s chest tightened, and she struggled to take a breath she was damn sure she had no need for.

“Apologies for the pain, and what we had to do to you.”

‘ What did they do to me?! ’ A primal fear caused J’s body to shake as her CPU tried to bridge the gaps. Tens of thousands of possibilities; each worse than the last, ran through J’s systems like a flood of patrons on Black Friday. She squirmed on her seat as the light died down, black and red splotches dancing across her vision. The light itself did not illuminate much of the room, and J’s night vision wasn't doing much either, surprisingly.
NIGHT VISION NUMBED.

‘ Oh. Oh fuck. ’

The more the murder drone squirmed, the more the cuffs dug into her wrists. Trying to ignore the pain as best she could, J wiggled her arms, trying to dislocate any of the two limbs. Almost like being struck by a bullet, a searing volt of electricity shot through her systems, making her cry in agony, her optics completely whitening as she slumped over on the table, the prickling sensation akin to a million needles pricking her casing. J’s every breath was shaky and erratic as she struggled to straighten up. The former torrent of anger, rage and fear was completely consumed by one emotion. An ice-cold, primal dread.

“Like I said before, please excuse the pain. We had to make sure you weren't an Automaton. You don't look the part, certainly. But we had to make sure.” The voice coming from the other side of the darkened silver table was a smooth, honeyed, masculine voice Lucifer probably used to deceive Adam and Eve. “Your functioning, systems… Your inner workings are unlike anything our top scientists have ever seen before.”

J had no idea if that was a compliment, or an insult. The very distant sounds of a certain gruff voice shouting was faintly heard by J, getting closer and closer.

“So, let's cut to the chase, shall we? You are from… 3071, correct?”

“Correct.” J replied, a sense of uneasiness in her voice as her brows pulled together.

“We already know what you are. A Disassembly Drone, purposed to eliminate Worker Drones and construct spires out of their corpses. Reminds me of Dead Space, really. Our technicians did some prodding in your systems, and… The results have been passed up to High Command. Not much has been… Publicized, about your kind.” He said. The ranting and shouting grew closer, yet closer as the interrogator pressed on. “What brought you here?”

“I don't…. Know myself. I nodded off while on a ship, and… I wake up on another.” J spared the details of the exact ship she was in. J’s mind rushed over to Tessa, and an anxiety crept down her back. That was practically the only friend she'd ever had, like Hell these motherfuckers would track her down.

“What ship?” He asked.

A dead silence, only broken by the shouting in the distance, still growing closer and more audible.

“ What ship? ” He pressed.

Before J could even answer, the interrogation door flew open, revealing a very pissed off Rex. He stormed into the interrogation room, and began ranting once more about the “procedure” J and the other drones had gone under involuntarily.

“Sergeant Andrew, calm down.” The interrogator said, trying to calm the Helldiver as he pressed on.

“Calm down?! You're telling me to calm down when you people just fucking… Cut the four of them open?” The Welshman shouted, pointing to J. “If they were Automatons, I would've blown their brains out by now.”

“We do not know what they are, and their capabilities will give us an edge over our enemies. Even a source of how they change weapons somehow will help us dramatically . The wings, the missile launchers. Hell, the regenerative capabilities If we can… Replicate what they have,” He reasoned, pointing to J, only a half of his hand peeking into the light. “We would have a completely unimaginable boost. Our scientists have extracted what they need, but I must do my job. Now, leave so I can extract the proper information from this drone.”

“I'll tell you how you can help yourself, you can cease all study of my recruits, and return them to my sole custody, or I will shove my boot so far up your ass that it'll nudge your microscopic brain, and maybe promote some damn growth.” Andrew snarled in reply.

“They're yours?” The interrogator asked, surprise evident in his voice. That calm and collected voice was completely overtaken by surprise.

“Oh, no shit. I wouldn't have given a damn if they weren't.”

J felt like she was in the middle of a custody dispute.

“In that case…” The cuffs on J loosened, slowly but surely. In a couple seconds, it popped off, as well as a sort of shock collar on her neck, clattering to the floor harmlessly. “Under policy, we are not to question Helldiver recruits. You may proceed to training.” J breathed the largest sigh of relief at those words. But when the drone got up, her legs buckled, and it took all of her willpower not to fall over flat on her face. Without even thinking, J outstretched her arm, slinging it over Andrew’s shoulder. The Helldiver didn't resist, instead helping the beleaguered drone out of the room.
Mars under Super Earth Control, 1800 Hours, September 27th, 2184.

The first thing that has struck them all was the sheer scale of the large underground facility. Cool winds washed over the group as they entered through the large, reinforced doors, clad in Helldiver armor, but missing their helmets. The facility was massive, with sprawling training grounds that seemed to stretch on forever. Just a short walk away was an obstacle course, with towering walls, rope climbs, and muddy trenches. Above them were what looked to be machine guns stationed across the trench lines.

They weren't live… Were they?

Just overhead, the Super Earth anthem’s instrumental version softly played on the speakers. Groups of trainees were already present, some giving confused glances at the drones. Some of them were running through exercises, the stamping of boots on concrete filling the air. Andrew… He was quite literally shaking with elation, as if he was an excited toddler on Christmas morning. They were all quickly pushed off to the central area, filled with obstacle courses, muddy trenches, rope climbs, and different rooms with monitors plastered with the flag of Super Earth, news outlets faintly detailing the latest happenings of the “ Special Military Operation ” currently going on, several different planets flashing across the screen. At those words, a cold fear slithered down all four drones’ spines. They regarded the shit they saw, what they had to do… As a special military operation? A simple skirmish?
Standing there was a stern, sharp-featured face, a scar running down his left cheek. He was clad in Helldiver armor, but he had medals adorned on his left breastplate, and he also was without his helmet. When he laid eyes on Andrew, his eyes momentarily softened, as if he had come across an old friend, but it vanished like a vapor in the wind. In a flash, he brought his left arm upward, saluting the drones and Andrew. The Welshman salutes just as quickly as the man, but the drones took a couple extra seconds to reply. His eyes fell to Uzi, who was nervously glancing around, twirling a strand of her dull purple hair with her index finger.

“You.” His voice boomed, causing the startled worker to look up at the man, his cold and calculating eyes sending a chill down her spine. “One step foward. March !”
Without any of her usual backsass, Uzi took one step forward, not daring to move a muscle after that.

“Feet closer. Hands to your sides. Head up. Stern. No emotion.” He commanded, watching the teen's quite horrible attention stance, which was quickly straightened up as best as possible. Though the man wouldn't admit it out loud, it was… Rather impressive, for a first-timer. He nodded a nod that even Andrew barely noticed before stepping forward, analyzing each of the drones, now standing at attention, trying to mimic Uzi's stance as best as possible. He slowly walked up and down, his eyes never leaving each of the five. “Sergeant, these are yours, correct?” He asked, quietly chuckling after Andrew nodded. He nodded once more, this time more noticeable. “I see Hellmire has taken them to shape. I can see why you see something in them.”

The man spoke to Andrew like he was an old friend, a warm edge to his voice, despite his outward appearance. “Alright then. Let's see if you are what you seem. I am General Brasch, and I will be your drill sergeant, and your guide to joining the Galaxy's most elite peacekeeping force.” He introduced. “Now, I have far better things to do than teach recruits, but I will make an exception, in this case. Now, each of you, drop down. I want ninety, right this instant. Let's see if you're really up for being a Helldiver.” His voice lost that warmness, quickly replaced by that cold edge from earlier. “Then after this, you are to run the obstacle courses after doing ninety more sit-ups, and navigate through the trench within thirty minutes.” He said, holding up a small digital timer.

The oil in each drones’ veins froze at that statement. Thirty fucking minutes?! ‘That's impossible.’ J thought, staring at the general with widened and hollowed optics.

A dead silence, as if time had frozen at his words.

“Now, ‘fore I bump it up to one-hundred!” He barked. If anything, his order sounded more of like a pitbull barking than a human shouting. Far worse than the generic drill sergeant they had naively expected. Brasch nodded to Andrew, prompting a nod from the younger Helldiver as he walked off, the General watching the drones drop down and begin to do the push-ups.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

Brasch counted loudly, his counting only serving to heighten the four drones’ stress. Sweat beaded on J’s visor as she cleared her thirtieth push-up.

“After this segment of exercise, you will be each handed a schedule paper detailing your new workday. I suggest you get used to it, and quickly.” He said, his voice growing colder and colder by the minute.
It was times like these where Uzi had the sudden wish to go back to Copper-9. Back home, to her dad's horrible parenting, and rants about Nightcore. Hell, she'd be glad if she had to put up with Lizzy of all people, again! After a couple grueling minutes, they had all finished. Though they were all far from completely tired, the constant exercise had made their muscles ache. It was a dull ache at best, however. But Brasch gave them no time to rest.

“Back down, ninety-five sit-ups.” Even when he didn't raise his voice, he still sounded intimidating. Without question, the drones obeyed, trying their best to ignore the General's loud counting that did nothing to soothe their fears.

Wait, didn’t he say ninety beforehand?

“Dive, dive, dive! You straighten up, you get fucked up! Keep your heads down!” Brasch’s shouting was barely heard over the auditory receptor-piercing sound of gunfire. ‘ Holy shit, they were fuckin' live! ’ Uzi’s dull purple hair was matted with mud as she crawled through the mud-filled trench, occasionally freezing when a bullet almost grazed her. Her eyes snapped shut, and her muscles ached and cried for respite. The once reasonably-lightweight Helldiver armor had become an anvil strapped to her body. The other drones fared just as, if not worse than Uzi. Bullet whizzed by them as they slowly and painstakingly crawled through the mud. Her holstered rifle brushed against the mud, adding to the weight she had to carry. Even through the fatigue, the teen pushed on, the bullets flying by her constantly reminding her of what would happen should she dare to stop for one second.

“Jesus fuckin' Christ, what the hell?!” J screamed, her hands flying to her head as a bullet zoomed past her, barely missing her head, her body stiffening for a second before the murder drone forced it to resume crawling, this time much faster. “Is he trying to kill us or something?!” The words came out in panicky bursts as the drones scrambled like rats in a race across the trench, caked in mud. The dark brown gloop obscured V’s vision to the point of being unable to see five feet ahead of her. The murder drone ground her teeth and forced herself to press on, albeit nervously and clumsily.

“Come on, go, go, go! The enemy will not wait for you to get your shit together! Move your asses!” Brasch shouted over the chaos. He stood a safe distance away from the chaos, hands tucked behind his waist, but he kept those cold dark-gray orbs on the drones, analyzing their every move and imperfection.
Midway through the already arduous climb, the scorching heat was replacing with a biting cold that even Copper-9’s climate could not even hold a candle to. Uzi felt like she’d completely freeze, even if she moved. But the end was in sight, thankfully. Each of the four drones scrambled up the rope, mantling up the ledge and doubling over in complete exhaustion. There was a whole other segment just a walk away, but their bodies would no longer heed their orders to move. Each of the recruit’s breaths came out in shaky gasps as V was suddenly pulled up. It was another Helldiver recruit. “Up you get.” He said, his voice youthful yet stern, much like Andrew’s.

“Corporal Michaels, you are to guide the recruits through the minefield and guide them through engagement with the Automatons.” Brasch shouted from below. Damn he had a loud voice. The platform itself was… Substantially high up, for lack of a better term. None of the four recruits wanted to look down, though. Uzi’s hands shook at the thought crossing her mind, her hand brushing on the railing to her left.
“Sir, yes sir!” He shouted back without missing a beat before turning to the exhausted recruits, most of which now back on their feet. “I'd watch where you all put your feet. Oh, and don't look down.” He warned, before gesturing to the minefield. It was intricately laid out, like a series of dominoes waiting to fall. He walked up to the field, stopping short when he came to the end of the small ramp going down into the hazardous grounds, waiting for the other drones to come along. He stood as still as a statue, the lights above casting a glare on his pitch-black helmet. After a second’s worth of reluctance, the drones exhaustedly staggered forward, stopping beside the corporal Helldiver, staring down the narrow, yet spacious passageway. “Normally you won’t be given this time to survey, but look around you. Any way to bypass these mines, you use it.” He explained, his voice monotone and body unmoving, as if he had said this millions of times before. “However, you are to never use your fellow diver as a meat shield. That is a complete disgrace to everything we stand for as Helldivers.” His voice grew into a cold disdain, as if those who did that were roaches that needed to be exterminated. “Worst comes to worst; and you die, you die. It happens.” He continued, the sheer callousness in his voice sending chills down the four recruits’ spines. “Once again, look for ways to bypass these mines. I really don’t want to have to see another batch implode again.”

And with that, they began. Almost instantly, V drew her rifle, firing thrice. The three mines in the middle detonated, taking three more with it in the process, clearing the path for the first segment of mines. Michaels slowly clapped as they pressed on, clearing the mines with surprising efficiency. This was generally the first time Uzi had held an actual rifle in her hands. The only “rifle” she had ever held was her railgun. The weapon felt good in her hands, and when she fired it at the mines, the recoil was surprisingly minimal. Uzi’s lips curled into a shadow of a smirk. Oh, hell yes.
“Good, you’re not mashed potatoes. Now let's see how you fare against this.” He said, swiping on the small screen on his wrist. Almost the second after Michaels stopped swiping, five robots were elevated to the surface. “These are Automatons. You kill them.” Three were just their height, two equipped with rifles and one a rocket launcher. The other two were far bigger, their spine and head glowing a fire orange. Instead of arms, they had chainsaws, and long, curving spikes adorned their backs. They were certainly not drones, that was for sure. They looked like humanoid endoskeletons, and their eyes were two glowing orbs of red, as if it had been extracted from the fires of Hell itself. The moment they had laid eyes on the recruit Helldivers, the two big ones charged forward, while the three smaller bots raised their rifles and launchers.

“What the hell are those things?!” V shouted, raising her rifle and firing, striking the bigger bots God-knows-how-many-times. Even though it was practically riddled with bullet holes, it charged forward at V and J, a high pitched manic laughter crawling up from it's voice box as it's chainsaws revved. Both drones’ mouths fell open, but no sound came out. They squeezed the trigger, not even bothering to let go as N and Uzi dispatched the other three bots. The small teen’s bullets made contact with the smaller Automations, oil splattering out of their bodies as they were peppered by Liberator bullets. Uzi watched as the Automatons fell, the glow dissipating, leaving only blackness in their eyes. It felt… Exhilarating. A fresh adrenaline rush that almost overwhelmed her. With the smaller ones gone, she and N turned their focus to V and J. J barely dodged one of the swipes from the bigger Automaton, a surprised yelp slipping from her lips as she ducked. The chainsaw barely missed her, slicing a couple strands of her silver hair clean off. A kick took the murder drone completely off guard, sending the drone staggering back. Her back pressed on the rail, before she flipped over, her hand instinctively grabbing onto the rail, holding on for dear life as she dangled off the edge.
Another swipe forced the Helldiver-in-training to swing leftward, creating enough momentum to propel herself upwards, flipping herself over the Automaton, and towards the railing. She landed with catlike grace, landing in a perched position, despite her peglegs. She dodged yet another combination of chainsaw attacks, jumping back, and to the left, back onto solid ground, almost bumping into Uzi. J breathed a sigh of relief after her feet (or lack thereof) made contact with the floor, her heart rate still going one-million per second, even though the short worker was now giving her a short-lived but intense glare.

“Watch where you're going, will you?” She snapped.

But there was no time to rest. Another swipe forced J to lean backwards, the blades barely grazing her armor as her sidearm flung out of its holster. She fired blindly at the Automaton’s torso, the chainsaw-bot finally falling over, dead.

“J, down!” Uzi shouted. Almost instinctively, J threw herself downward as another shot rang out. The Automaton behind her was now without its head, small flames belching out of where the head used to be as it leaned sideways, tumbling down the platform and landing below with a sickening thud . Uzi raised her weapon, admiring the smoke that came out of the barrel. “Y’know, I had half the mind to shoot you both.” She remarked, her head craning to the side, her smirk now more noticeable. She holstered her pistol, turning back around to Michaels for approval, her breaths heavy, just like the others, but her smirk still as present as ever. Each of the recruits’ bodies ached and begged for respite. N felt lightheaded, and had to brace himself on the railing. He ran a hand through his hair, heavily sighing. Michaels was leaning on the railing, arms crossed, as if unimpressed. Uzi's face fell.

But Uzi had a feeling he was, though.
“Haven't seen a show like that since… Well, ever.” He congratulated. “Next up is bayonet and Hand-to-hand training. Enemy won't give you a shit's worth a’ rest, so we're not giving you it either. Brasch and I will keep watch, and make sure you all don't hurt yourselves too much. But, you have made Super Earth proud thus far. Keep this up, and you'll make great additions to the Helldiver Corps. Down we go." The platform slowly began to move downward, past the corpse of the Automaton, which was now sporadically twitching. Brasch himself was nowhere to be found, as the platform descended further downward into the training facility.
Author's Ramblings: Shit, bootcamp really is fucking our drones up! But they will come out stronger, better, and more PATRIOTIC! FOR SUPER EARTH!
This message has been approved by the Ministry of Truth. Glory to Super Earth.

29F, 5ft4, 238lbs, white, usa, adhd, prolactinoma, anxiety, hypothyroidism; take levothyroxine, atomoxetine, cabergoline, and hydroxyzine for breakthrough anxiety. Recent labs were all good except high cholesterol (ldls) and high insulin (18.2 on a scale ending 18.1 or something like that).
Sorry this is so long. I tried posting in askdocs but I think my post is stuck in limbo. Trying here for any insight since my drs appointment isn't for another week.
I've had this issue on and off for the past few years where I would eat and sometimes it felt like the food was just sitting in my esophagus and then it would involuntarily come back up in mouthfuls. It has not been a consistent issue over the years, but it used to happen a lot with fries and pho broth specifically the most. I feel like I went through a long period without much issue. A couple months ago, I had McDonalds and my entire mcflurry came up after eating. Sometimes when I eat, a few bites makes me feel full. Sometimes I eat breakfast fine, but Im not hungry until dinner, so I dont eat lunch. Lately, it seems the food stuck/food coming up issue is becoming more frequent, and as of the past couple days, I can't really keep a full meal down.
Over the weekend, I went to a wedding where I was drinking. I was on my third cocktail when my stomach started to burn. Weirdly the champagne from the toast didn't bother me, though. I didn't finish my cocktail and didnt drink more after the champagne. No other digestive event that night, but I also weirdly did not get tipsy at all, which is abnormal for me. I mention this because I'm wondering if the alcohol was just sitting and not digesting.
The next day, Sunday, I felt fine until after dinner iirc. I had smoked wings and fried okra for dinner (didn't eat all the okra). About an hour later, food started to come back up. Mouthful by mouthful, my dinner exited over the span of at least an hour. I got concerned when I started seeing the eggs I had for breakfast 10+ hours prior.
We drove back home that night (9.5 hr drive+breaks), and I started getting a stomach ache. I originally thought it was just a combination of lack of sleep, coffee, and menstrual cramps. I was able to get down an egg mcmuffin (road tripping, not much else available) without event Monday morning, but I just didn't really feel great. I tried to nap, but couldn't.
The next day (Tuesday) after some sleep I felt a lot better. I visited my parents, and we had some coffee, an oatmeal bake with nuts and berries, and a hard boiled egg. For lunch, we had a salad with shredded barbecued chicken, figs, greens, soft cheese, and a touch of dressing that seemed a little alcoholic. About an hour later, I started getting a really bad stomach ache. I couldn't concentrate on my work. Nothing seemed to help. I took a bunch of tums, drank apple cider vinegar, walked around, went into the sun, went into the AC - nothing. I decided to take a shower (I WFH), and that did seem to help. But it was short lived. My stepmom bought me some broth, soft foods, etc. My stomach finally started to feel a little better in the evening. Although I kept feeling like I had to go to the bathroom and nothing was happening. Anyway, for dinner, I had saltines and broth. And eating that made my stomach hurt the first few bites. It got a little better. We went on a walk, and I threw up some of the food a few times. A little later, I had a boost and a small hard pretzel, which I was able to keep down.
Yesterday, I tried to keep it low key most of the day, snacking on boost, cottage cheese, Gatorade electrolytes, and pretzels. No issues other than feeling just a touch acid refluxy. Took tums that helped. I had to drive back home and was really hungry, so I got a turkey sandwich, yogurt, and pickle from the Royal Farms gas station. Very shortly after eating, it felt like food was stuck in my esophagus and the pickle started coming up. And then some of my sandwich. Food kept coming up for over 2 hours before it finally subsided. I drank a boost since I threw up a lot, and I kept it down.
Today, Ive had boost, a cottage cheese, some Gatorade, and a little seltzer water. I pushed it a little and had a small cake ball from the wedding (I know, I know...). Stomach is a little burny right now, and i did throw up a little. I have tums on the way. I usually take zantac. I'm a professional singer after hours, and I dont know what to do at this point. I made an appointment request through the patient portal with my pcp, but the place to leave a message had a small character limit, so all I could basically say was it felt like food was stuck in my throat and I was throwing up. They called me the next day (yesterday) and told me if I felt like I had food stuck in my throat, I needed to go to the ER. The scheduling person was clearly flustered and frustrated with me for reasons I dont understand. I think they thought I was choking or something. I explained the symptoms had subsided for the moment. She offered me an appointment in a week and told me to make sure I cancel if I start to feel better.
Anyway, what do I do? What do I have?? What can I eat??? Any help is appreciated!!

Here’s the intro “Trouble had a way of finding me from a young age. I often fell in with bad influences, and I had a knack for stirring up chaos. My reckless and often illegal antics frequently brushed against the law. Countless close calls only fed my misguided sense of invincibility until one night, when my so-called ‘friends’ and I made a huge mistake.
One night, under the influence of beer and a bit of weed—not exactly the best substances for making rational decisions—my friends and I were playing video games. We came up with a stupid plan to sneak into the neighbor’s garage for a “smoke and chill” session. The reasoning behind our sudden desire to smoke in my neighbor’s garage is now blurred, lost in the haze of that night. My parents were away on a weekend trip, mistakenly assuming I was responsible enough to stay out of trouble.
Feeling like secret agents on an absurdly low-stakes mission, we crawled through a gap in the fence. Inside the dimly lit garage, we settled in and sparked up a blunt. In a sense of competition, we challenged each other to see who could take the longest hit. I went first, taking a massive puff and exhaling a cloud of smoke like a malfunctioning fog machine.
Whether it was the smoke or just bad luck, I lost my balance and stumbled back, sending a toolbox crashing to the floor with a deafening clatter. In that moment, a spark from the metal tools hitting the ground ignited a pool of spilled solvent that we hadn’t noticed before. The spark and the solvent mixed, erupting into a huge flame.
Panic spread faster than the rapidly growing flames, and my so-called friends ran off. As the fire grew, my lungs ached for fresh air. With a burst of desperate energy, I bolted past the searing heat and threw open the garage door.
There stood Mr. Smith, my neighbor, his furious gaze piercing through the disheveled frame of his bathrobe. Without a word, he grabbed my collar and hurled me onto the damp grass. Then he ran over to a fire extinguisher, extinguished the fire, and desperately attempted to save what remained of his burned-up garage.
Mr. Smith called the police on us, and it didn’t take long for my ‘friends’ to point fingers in my direction as the one responsible for the accidental fire. Even though the fire was unintentional, the act of trespassing into the garage and possessing weed muddled our predicament.
From a legal standpoint, the authorities classified my inadvertent arson as a criminal offense. Regardless of my lack of intent to start the fire, our prior actions held substantial influence. The combination of trespassing, smoking weed, and the consequential fire left little possibility of leniency in the eyes of law enforcement.
The charges pressed against me included criminal trespass, possession of a controlled substance, and reckless endangerment resulting in property damage, which ultimately led to a four-month term in juvenile detention—it was a difficult and eye-opening experience, and certainly not a moment I look back on with any pride.
As part of the court’s ruling, the court granted me a conditional release slightly prior to completing my 4-month sentence during the summer. I was released early under the agreement that I would pay for the damages to my neighbor’s garage. This meant that I was obligated to secure employment and save enough money to fully cover the repair costs.
Together with my parents, I scoured job listings until one caught our eye: a pizza delivery driver. The requirements were straightforward—you just needed to be at least 17, have a valid drivers license, and no prior working experience was required.
The job itself wasn’t terrible; there was plenty of downtime. The base pay wasn’t great, but at least there were tips. Even so, it didn’t really matter how much I earned, since it all went straight to my neighbor.”

my (22f) mom (63f) has always had a weird relationship with me. recently, we settled on calling it a trauma bond because we were kind of forced to be close to survive my father (violent alchoolic). my sister (33f) ran away from home when she was 16ish, and that plus the age gap between us really makes me feel like there isnt a relationship between us. My uncle tried to kill himself in front of me this year, and my aunt is always kind of reminiscing about her traumatic life.
It feels like my whole entire family's deal is suffering loudly, besides for my mom, who suffers very quietly.
When i was growing up, i really loved my mom, she seemed so strong to me: she survived a toxic ex husband and her current abusive one, she survived debt, she survived the death of her brother, her parents and of all of her friends, she survived everything.
and she used to tell me that we are exactly the same, with one difference. she has never wanted to die, and i have.
I've struggled with bpd, gad and aspd all my life, plus anorexia when i was an infant (i was born that i already wanted to die, as she puts it) and binge once i was older. ive never had a dream because from how far back i can think of- ive always wanted and actively tried to end myself (by the rules wont say how).
i always thought my mom was on my side, until recently i moved away to another country to be with my partner, who is very much my opposite. im high masking and push my limits a lot. he's low masking, knows what he wants from life, takes meds if he needs to, eats healthy, has friends and in general- he's a raging green flag that has taught me a lot. he has his issues too ofc, he has autism and schizophrenia, and maybe bpd too, but he tries really hard to be good and never once has he made me feel bad.
i may still not feel empathy, and i may still not feel guilt or pity or anything of the sort, but he has taught me a lot.
the issue started two months ago, when suddenly i developped a stomach ache, a lower torso explosive pain accompanied by constipation. He had to practically force me to the emergency doctor, which told me my intestine was really swollen, prescribed some pills, an enema, and from there we fixed the constipation issue in the matter of 10 days.
but the pain, the swolling, stayed.
we went back to my original country because i had to do some bueaucratic stuff, and here the pain just got worse. i blame the fact i dont get to choose what i eat here, so ive been eating less fibers and have been doing less walking, but my mother thinks its all in my head.
She doesnt wait around to tell me so, we'll be maybe in the car to go see my sister and oh: anyways it's all in your head
or: "i wont allow you to do more than an ultrasound, a colonic would be too invasive" or: "anyways i was right, it's not appendicities"
the last one in specific came after an internal ultrasound, which was incredibly painful. in general the gyno visit was so crazy painful, ive been flaring up ever since, i started even crying during the visit. she did tell me my intestines were huge, and prescribed pills, which im taking, and are doing nothing.
and also, im back to being constipated.
today again, i couldnt contain myself, i started crying uncontrollably and am still crying as im writing this down. my partner had to go back home for some exams and all i can do is cry to him in chat or by phone, about how i want to be back home to him because he takes my pain seriously.
when it hurts really bad he even tries to stay awake at night, he does the chores, he gets groceries or goes to the pharmacy, he tries really hard to alleviate the pain. right now hes even keeping a food journal for me of all the things i eat so we can hopefully find out what is the root problem.
the more i stay in this house, the more im around my mother, the more i understand why my sister always said she was the devil. it's true, she never cared about me, she just used me to not have the blunt of my father's rage.
i was the one getting in fights with him, i was the one listening at the door every time they spoke to make sure she was okay... the more i stay here... the more i realise how cruel she was to me. never once protected me, slapped me often, made fun of me often (calling me a cry baby), never allowed me to go to the school i wanted to do (and recently i found out my father was supportive of me doing it, she was the one against it), never helping me through my crisis, never holding a secret. i remembered how she would introduce me to all of her or my friends as "the frail one who always harms herself".
and now that im back, she's been extra mean. she used to spend time with me earlier, she used to like my drawings, used to be interested in what i created. in the 3 months i was away from home... she threw away my bags, my childhood toys, put down my paintings... eradicated my existence from any. any. picture. in. the. house.
when i pointed out to her how it's been easier for me to talk to my father instead of her, how ive hugged him countless time these days but ive yet to hug her... she said "good, then go to your father"
i just, realised, at the ripe age of 22, that she was just as much of a monster as my father, and i understood it just because for once i have a healthy reference, my partner.
i understood it because if i say: im in pain, my partner will react with "im worried" "how can i help" "im here, ill search things online/ill call my mom/ill call a friend/ill get you an appointment at the doctowe can wait together all day at the emergency room/ill stay up for you/ill make you some soup/ill get you medicine at the pharmacy/im not gonna leave you alone in this" and my mother says "it's all in your head, i dont know what to tell you"
and the funniest, yet sad last fact
is that my partner is a fashion student with no medical training
my mother is a nurse.

I'm a foreign student(20y/o almost 21), came here for studies at 19. So I found out I was pregnant like a week ago cause I was throwing up and got sore breasts. I told my bf and that same night we went to this aidaccess.org site which he had already researched a long time ago just in case. And we got the quiz done, mails sent—pic of my id and such. It was on a Thursday night. And I got the package with a Mifepristone and a misoprostol bottle on that following Tuesday morning. I took that Mifepristone pill as soon as it got there. I didn't feel any different till 24 hrs later. I took the ibuprofen 4pills. After that I waited for an hour and then I was stalling and not taking the second pill cause I was afraid of what's coming. That's around when I bled a bit but it wasn't completely blood yet, idk it was mixed like watery with a lil blood. So I went ahead and took the pills before I ruined the process or anything. Two pill on each cheek. I thought it'd have a very disgusting taste like other pills but it didn't really have a taste. The texture was kinda chalk like which wasn't very pleasing but better than what I expected. So I sat there with 30 min timer on, tryna pass time. My tummy started cramping and it started feeling like shit. 30 mins over — swallowed the remaints with water. After that things started really taking off very fast like bruh go easy on me T T. I'm not tryna scare anyone, everyone has different experience with abortion but mines wasn't very nice at all. It was a very very terrible experience for me overall. I was prolly the one scared the most tho. Well anyways, A few moments after that, it started cramping like crazy, I had my heating pad but still hurt like crazy. No position felt better or anything. Soon after it felt like I needed to poop. Which is what idk period cramps usually makes me feel like so I went to the bathroom. Little did I know T ^ T I was sitting in the 🚽 with the heating pad in my tummy. Crazy cramps, felt like nothing I've felt before. At the same moment, diarrhea hit me so bad like it was basically water coming outta my butt.(I've always had a diarrhea problem but I've never had anything at this level. It was like my body wasn't mines, I had no control over it. It could be different for others. ) All that goin on and to add onto that I felt like I had to puke. My bf came rushing in with the bin. I was groaning in pain. He was there at the right moment bruh or else it would be all over the floor. Anyways, I threw up, ughh so fucking bitter and that was the worst experience too oh gosh T ^ T I was sweating like I've never had, cramps were crazy, diarrhea flowing like tap water, blood clots were coming out, and throwing up on top of that. Took a number on my body. The diarrhea was wiping out all the fluids I had in my body. I hadn't even eaten much before all this, just a veggie sandwich in the morning. I started getting chills, I was shivering hard, my tshirt, my hair everything was completely drenched with sweat and aching all over. I was there for over an hour. It was miserable. I was leaning on his arms most of that time. My bf stayed with me right there through all the process. I would've been dead if not for him. This is a crazy shit to go through alone, not recommended. So after an hour +, it finally kinda settled down a bit—the diarrhea thingy and the cramps. Cramps was still there but not bad at that moment. So I finally cleaned myself after trying like 3 times and got up with his help. Oh yea, while I was in the toilet I felt smth come out, yk like a small ball of tissue. I'm guessing it's "that" cause it def didn't feel anything like blood clots. It just plopped out. I couldn't see it cause that was the least of my concerns at that moment.
After that, I went to bed trying my hardest and wishing I'd fall asleep. Cause that cramps started cranking up. I was curled up trying to find the best position. Nothing worked and it hurt so bad. I had to take two more of the ibuprofen pills. Maybe like 10-20 mins after, my bf started falling asleep and I did too, I was kinda sitting up curled with knees in and my head on his body. That was the comfy position I finally found. Two hours later I woke up, and the pain was very little. I felt so much better. Like no nausea or pregnant feeling. Went to the bathroom cause the pad was almost leaking and bruh I've never seen that much blood gushing out of my body. Lots of big clots and blood. Felt much better after that tho. Then it felt like regular period with cramps. It's much bearable.
Well that's my story. Thankyou for reading TT

[Main Story] [1] [2] [3]
Firelight cast flickering shadows across the walls of the chieftain's hut. Gribble sat cross-legged on the dirt floor, his striking yellow eyes fixed on Chief Gnarltooth, his grandfather. The old goblin's deep voice rumbled as he spoke, wisdom gleaned from countless years leading the clan.
Gribble's unruly mop of black hair fell across his forehead as he leaned forward, hanging on every word. Tales of bravery, of hard-fought victories against rival clans. Of the challenges of uniting squabbling goblins under a single banner.
Chief Gnarltooth stood tall and proud, corded muscles rippling beneath green skin crisscrossed with battle scars. His long beard more gray than black now, but no less impressive. He gestured with a gnarled hand, a simple iron band encircling one thick finger.
The day would come when Gribble would wear that ring. When he would wield the chief's spear and lead the clan to glory. For now, he was content to learn. To soak up the wisdom of his grandfather, the greatest chieftain the goblins had ever known.
Grubnik ducked into the hut, a freshly-snared rabbit dangling from one hand. Gribble's father moved with the easy grace of a born hunter, green eyes sparkling in the firelight. He crossed to the hearth and set about skinning and spitting the carcass.
Gribble smiled up at him, heart swelling with love and pride. No one could track prey like his father. No one was kinder or more patient. When Gribble struggled with a new skill - setting snares, or fletching arrows - Grubnik was always there with a gentle word of encouragement.
Grubnik looked up from his work, winking at his son. His strong, angular features so like Gribble's own. He often said Gribble had his mother's eyes though. Mika's eyes.
Gribble's smile faltered. He had no memory of his mother, taken by fever when he was still a babe. But he had the stories. Of her gentle heart, her clever hands that could coax healing from plants and weave baskets so tight they held water. Of the way her amber eyes danced when she laughed.
Grubnik caught his son's gaze, his own eyes softening with shared sorrow. He reached out and squeezed Gribble's shoulder, rough palm warm through the worn fabric of his tunic. A silent promise. I'm here. You are not alone.
They both looked up at the sound of heavy footfalls. Grimrock shouldered his way into the hut, his bulk filling the doorway. Gribble's uncle had a flat, brutish face, with small dark eyes that always seemed to be glaring. A puckered scar ran down his right cheek, twisting his mouth into a permanent sneer.
Where Grubnik was lithe and quick, Grimrock was all brute strength. Cords of muscle strained against too-tight skin, his green hide crisscrossed with pale scars. He wore a shirt of scavenged chainmail, the dull silver links straining to contain his bulk.
Grubnik's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Just jerked his chin in the barest nod of greeting before turning back to the roasting rabbit, jabbing at the coals with a bit more force than necessary. Chief Gnarltooth watched his sons, ancient eyes unreadable in the flickering light.
Gribble's belly churned. He didn't understand the tension between his father and uncle. The dark looks, the weighted silences. He knew only that Grimrock seemed to resent Grubnik. Resent that he would one day lead the clan, as the eldest son.
Grimrock's gaze fell on Gribble, as if sensing his thoughts. His eyes glittered, hard and black as obsidian. His mouth curled into something that was not quite a smile, baring pointed yellow teeth.
Gribble looked away, skin prickling. He suddenly wished he was anywhere else. Out in the forest, practicing with his little bow. Checking the snares for rabbits. Anywhere but here, pinned under his uncle's cold stare.
Grubnik cleared his throat, drawing Grimrock's attention back to him as surely as if he'd shouted. He gestured to the carcass on the spit, fat sizzling as it dripped into the flames.
We'll be eating well tonight, looks like.
Grimrock grunted, moving to take a seat on a low stool near the fire. The wood creaked alarmingly under his weight. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, to watch the cooking meat. The orange light flickered across the hard planes and angles of his face, darkening the hollows of his eyes to pits.
Gribble hugged his knees to his chest, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the fire. His gaze kept crawling back to Grimrock, to the resentment simmering behind his eyes. A shiver walked up his spine, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck.
Chief Gnarltooth settled himself on a hump of dark patterned fur - a throne in all but name. He leaned his spear against the wall and started picking burrs from his beard, clever fingers flicking them into the fire.
Your snares are pulling in more meat than Raggok's, Grubnik. Old fool's like to chew off his own foot if you don't take over trapline soon.
Grubnik looked up with a crooked grin, eyes glinting with mischief. Aw, don't be too hard on him. He only caught his ankle the once.
Chief Gnarltooth barked a laugh, chest shaking with mirth. He slapped a broad hand against his thigh, the sound ringing through the smoky air of the hut.
Grimrock snorted. His dark glare was locked on his brother, jaw muscles working as if biting back words that wanted to spill out. His fists clenched atop his knees, thick fingers digging into the rough flesh.
Gribble watched warily, chewing his lower lip. He wanted to ask what was wrong. Wanted to crawl into his father's lap like he used to when he was smaller, to feel the rumble of his laughter. But something held him back - some animal instinct that said to be still, be quiet, don't draw attention.
So he sat, holding himself small and silent, waiting for the tension to break. Praying to the spirits that it wouldn't come to blows. Not again. The last time his father and uncle had fought, Grimrock sent Grubnik through the wall of the smithy. Grubnik walked with a limp for days after, though he never spoke of it.
The spit creaked as Grubnik turned the rabbit, the skin crisping to a rich golden brown. Juices dripped and hissed in the flames. Gribble's mouth watered at the rich scent, despite the sour tangle of dread in his gut.
Grimrock leaned forward abruptly, snatching the spit from its cradle. Grubnik opened his mouth as if to protest, but bit it back at a look from Chief Gnarltooth. The old chieftain watched his second son through narrowed eyes.
Grimrock tore a haunch from the carcass with his bare hands, ignoring his father's grunt of disapproval. He shoved the meat into his mouth and chewed noisily, grease smearing his chin. All the while his hard gaze never left his brother's face, as if daring him to say something.
Grubnik looked away, grabbing a wooden trencher and slicing off a portion of rabbit with quick, precise motions. He set it in front of Gribble with a wink and a rueful half-smile. Eat up, pup. Gotta keep your strength up.
Gribble accepted the food with mumbled thanks, eyes on his lap. He picked at it with his fingers, appetite withered under the weight of the icy silence. Across the fire, Grimrock continued to tear at the carcass, cracking bones with his teeth to get at the marrow.
They ate without speaking. The only sounds were the pop and hiss of the fire, the wet smack of Grimrock's chewing. Gribble forced down a few bites, each one a dry lump in his throat. Dread sank icy claws into his belly and squeezed.
When the last scrap of meat was gone, Grimrock tossed the splintered bones into the fire and wiped his greasy hands on his breeches. He leaned back, idly picking at his teeth with a sharpened nail.
Yer can't baby the boy forever, Grubnik. His eyes cut to Gribble, glittering with malice. Kid's got to toughen up if he's to be any use to the clan.
Gribble froze, rabbit halfway to his mouth. Shame and anger burned hot beneath his skin, warring in his chest. He grit his teeth and stared hard at his plate, willing his eyes to stop prickling.
Grubnik's hands flexed, knuckles standing out white under the green. His voice was tight and controlled, barely above a growl. He'll be a fine hunter. Best we've seen in generations. Got his mother's keen eyes.
A hollow barking laugh. Sure, could shoot a leaf off a tree. Still wet behind the ears though, ain't he? All them stories you been fillin' his head with. Glory and honor and that rot.
A snarl rumbled up from Grubnik's chest. He set his plate aside with exaggerated care and stood, body coiled with tension like a snake about to strike.
Gribble watched his father with wide eyes, heart thudding almost painfully behind his ribs. He wanted to cry out, to beg them not to fight. But his tongue was nailed to the floor of his mouth, useless.
Chief Gnarltooth stood abruptly, faded eyes flashing a warning. Enough. Both of you. His voice cracked like a whip in the smoky air, freezing his sons in their tracks. There was a mountain's weight of authority in that single word, honed by decades of leadership.
Outside, now. Gribble, stay here.
Grubnik and Grimrock filed out into the night, shoulders tight with resentment. Gnarltooth followed close behind, a silent specter in a cloak of shadows. The hut's walls felt flimsy as parchment in their wake, too thin to block out the muffled argument bursting to life beyond them.
Gribble hunched over his plate, appetite crushed to nothing. Shame still burned in his cheeks, Grimrock's words ringing in his ears. Baby. Weak. Useless. Each one striking with the force of a blow.
He knew he wasn't the strongest, or the quickest. Other goblin lads his age were already joining the hunting bands, learning to shoot and track with the warriors. But he was trying. He practiced every day with his little bow until his fingers bled. He set his own traps, treated the furs himself. He would make his father proud. Would prove himself worthy to lead the clan one day, as his grandfather had. He had to.
The shouting outside reached a fever pitch then cut off abruptly. Gribble held his breath, straining his ears in the sudden silence. A lone set of footsteps crunched across the packed earth, growing fainter as they stomped away. Too heavy for his father's quick, light tread. Grimrock, then.
Gnarltooth shuffled back in, looking older than he had only minutes before. New lines seemed to have been carved into the weathered map of his face. He sank onto his stool and stared into the guttering fire, shoulders slumped under a weight Gribble could only guess at.
Where's Da?
Gribble hardly recognized his own voice. Small and frightened, like a child half his age. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.
Gnarltooth sighed, ancient lungs crackling. Out walking. Grimrock too. Tempers are high, need to cool off.
He poked at the coals, sending up a burst of orange sparks. Gribble watched them dance and swirl like fireflies before winking out, thoughts still churning.
Gran?
A grunt.
Will Da really make me Chief someday?
Gnarltooth turned to look at him then, eyes clearer and more focused than Gribble could ever remember seeing them. He leaned forward, hands clasped loosely between his knees.
You got a good heart, pup. Just like yer mam. And that mind of yours... sharper than any blade. Grubnik sees it. I see it. Grimrock... he'll come around. But you gotta be strong, ye hear? For the clan. For them what depends on ye.
Gribble swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His grandfather was not a goblin much given to praise. Every word was sincere, and all the heavier for it.
Gnarltooth held his gaze a moment longer, ancient eyes searching. Finally he nodded, as if satisfied with what he saw there. Get yerself to bed, pup. Big day tomorrow.
Gribble jolted, remembering. The hunt. His father and grandfather were to lead a band of warriors deep into the Wild Wood, to bring back a stag for the Winter Feast. A dangerous journey, but a great honor. Gribble had begged to go, but Grubnik had forbidden it. Said he was too young, yet. That his time would come.
Gribble scrambled to his feet, head full of snares and arrows and stealth. He paused at the doorway, looking back into the dimness of the hut. Gnarltooth still sat by the fire, a weathered green statue, eyes lost in dancing flames.
G'night, Gran.
The old goblin lifted a hand in silent farewell, gaze never leaving the dwindling fire.
Gribble slipped into the quiet of the night, a strange heaviness in his heart. Overhead the stars glittered like chips of ice, impossibly distant and cold. A sickle moon hung low on the horizon, as sharp and pale as a blade.
He walked with his head down, watching his bare feet scuff the well-trodden paths between the huts. All around the sounds of the nighttime village rose up - muffled conversation, a burst of laughter, a high thin wail quickly hushed. The soft clucking of sleepy chickens, the grumbling of goats. The homey scents of cookfires and pipesmoke.
It was all so familiar, as much a part of him as his own heartbeat. And yet some part of him whispered that it could all be taken away in an instant, as ephemeral as dandelion fluff on a strong breeze. Nothing was certain, nothing was safe.
Grimrock's face swam up in his mind, twisted with contempt. He shook his head to banish it, shoving into his family's hut with more force than necessary.
He checked that his mother's little loom sat safe in its corner, the half-finished cloth protected by a scrap of hide. His fingers trailed across the warp, worn smooth by the work of her hands.
Then he threw himself down on his pallet, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push away the day, the fears that wanted to rise up and choke him.
He prayed that the hunt would go well. That his father and grandfather would return with a stag to feed the village, horns held high in triumph. He would not let Grimrock's darkness poison this, would not let it plant seeds of doubt in his heart.
Gribble pressed his face into the musty furs and dreamed of a day when he would make them proud. When no one, not even his uncle, could look at him and see anything but a strong leader. A chieftain to lead the Bloodfang Clan to greatness.
He fell asleep with that dream held tight to his chest, a fragile flame against the darkness of the night.
Dawn came gray and cold, pale light filtering in through the drawn hide window. Gribble startled awake, heart thudding behind his ribs. For a moment he couldn't place the unease that clawed at his belly, the dread that sat heavy on his chest.
Then he remembered. The hunt. His father and grandfather would be leaving today.
He scrambled out of bed, bare feet slapping the packed-dirt floor. Da, wake up, it's-
But the hut was empty, Grubnik's pallet cold to the touch. Of course. They would have risen long before the sun, to make the most of daylight.
Gribble grabbed his tunic, yanking the rough fabric over his head. He hopped on one foot and then the other, cursing, as he struggled into his breeches. If they had already left... but no, they wouldn't go without saying goodbye. They couldn't.
He burst out into the watery light, stumbling a bit on the raised threshold. The village was already stirring, the smell of cooking fires wafting between the huddled huts. Women with baskets hurried toward the foraging grounds. Children dashed underfoot, their laughter high and thin in the chill morning air.
Gribble dodged around them, heart pounding as he ran for the central clearing. Hunters gathered there before heading out, sharing bawdy jokes and boasts over their bows and spears.
Please still be there. Don't go yet.
He rounded the edge of a storage hut and skidded to a stop, heart in his throat. The clearing stood mostly empty, save for a few wizened goblins passing a pipe between them.
His gut sank, a sick twisting emptiness that threatened to crush the breath from his lungs.
Gone. They were gone. Without even a word.
He stood frozen, mind refusing to push forward into a day without their presence. The sudden realization that for the first time in his life, they would not be within the gentle circle of the village's palisades. That he could not run to his father if he scraped a knee or caught his hand in a snare. That he would not hear his grandfather's gruff bark of laughter when he made a clumsy joke over dinner.
The emptiness in his chest yawned wider, a dark gaping maw that threatened to swallow him whole.
As if in a dream, he turned and wandered down the meandering path that led to the village gates. He came to the edge of the wild wood, ancient oaks towering overhead, their trunks lost in the mist that pooled between them. His mind spun a dozen ways they could be hurt, a hundred dangers that might keep them from returning home.
He shook his head, grasping for the steadiness his father always seemed to wear like a cloak around his shoulders. He would be strong. He would make them proud. There was much to be done in the village, much he could learn from the elders in their absence.
With a last look over his shoulder at the forbidding wall of trees, he turned back toward the huts. He would check his snares, and oil his bow, and help with the smoking of the fish. He would keep his hands busy and his mind full, and pray to the spirits of wood and wind to guide his father and grandfather home safe.
Days passed, each one bleeding into the next until Gribble stopped counting sunrises. Every morning he scrambled to the top of the palisade wall, scanning the treeline for familiar shapes. Every evening he tossed in his bedroll, ears straining for the sound of feet crunching up the path.
But none came.
Gribble threw himself into the work of the village, as if by grinding himself down to bone and sinew he could push away the fear that gnawed at his gut. He checked traplines, hauling the small carcasses to the skinning sheds. Helped the village elders mix medicines and poultices, grinding herbs until his hands cramped and his eyes stung. Practiced with his bow until his fingers cracked and bled, ignoring the pitying glances from the other young hunters.
All the while, the village churned with rumor. Women whispered behind their hands as they gathered firewood. Men huddled around the evening fires, voices low and urgent as they stared out into the night.
What if they fell to cave lions? Or the mad hermit that was rumored to stalk the eastern reaches of the wildwood, killing any goblin that stumbled across his path? What if they starved, or froze, or were taken by the elves that sometimes crept from the high reaches of the mountains?
No one said it too loudly, but Gribble could see the question behind their eyes, in the careful way they avoided his gaze. What if they weren't coming back?
He shoved the thought away, burying it deep where it couldn't cut at him with vicious claws. He would know if something happened. He would feel it in his bones, in the deepest corridors of his heart.
But as days became weeks, the sliver of stubborn hope he carried began to fray and tear, threadbare under the weight of cold reality.
Grimrock lorded over them all, settling into the camp chair outside the chieftain's hut as if he'd been born to it. He spoke of new rules, new orders for the guards and hunters. Scowled at any who dared question him, hand resting on the bone-handle of his knife.
Gribble avoided him, unwilling to face the triumph that glittered in his uncle's eyes whenever they landed upon him. He knew, with a sinking certainty, that Grimrock had gotten exactly what he wanted. The leadership of the clan, the power that should have been his brother's. It was only a matter of time before he made it formal, before he took the chief's spear from above the mantle and named himself ruler.
The thought made something small and fierce burn in Gribble's chest. A stubborn coal of anger that smoldered and hissed, sharpening his grief to a cutting edge.
It was near a month before Gribble faced it, the knowledge sinking its fangs deep into his heart and refusing to let go.
They weren't coming back.
He sat beneath the towering oaks at the far edge of the village, their leaves whispering mournful secrets overhead. The wild wood stretched out before him, misty and impenetrable - a dark sea of twisting trunks and reaching shadows. It had swallowed his father and grandfather whole, never to spit them back out.
Scalding tears burned down his cheeks, dripping from his chin unchecked. His shoulders shook with the force of holding back sobs, each breath tearing at his throat like shards of broken glass. The pain of it threatened to shatter him, to break him open and spill his guts across the forest floor.
He fumbled at his side until his fingers closed around the small carving of a wolf - his father's final gift, pressed into his hands the night before the hunt. He clutched it to his chest, its edges biting into his palms until a dribble of blood ran down his wrist.
Not alone, his father had murmured, cupping Gribble's face between rough, calloused palms. Never alone, pup. No matter what comes.
But that was a lie, wasn't it? He was alone now. More alone than he'd ever been in his short life.
Gribble hunched forward, shoulders bowed under the weight of his grief. His tears fell onto the little wolf, darkening the cherrywood, the tang of blood sharp in the air.
He let himself cry then, silent and shaking in the shelter of his oak tree. Let the sorrow and rage boil through his veins, hot enough to scorch. Let it sink its teeth deep into the meat of him and shake, worrying at the wounds until they ran red with memory -

• his father's gentle hands, calloused palms enfolding Gribble's as he taught him how to carve a snare
  
• his grandfather's roaring laugh, the scratch of his beard as he pulled Gribble close
  
• the wistful smile on his father's face when he looked at Gribble, as if seeing someone else in the curve of his brow, the bridge of his nose
  

Each one a shard of glass beneath his skin, embedding themselves so deep he would never dig them out. he would carry their weight, the aching absence of them, for the rest of his days.
But even through the haze of pain some stubborn spark in him whispered no. this could not be the end of it, the final note of their song. they had not raised him to lay down, to let his loss carve him hollow.
His father had taught him how to set his jaw, square his shoulders against the weight of the world. his grandfather had shown him that true strength lay in standing back up, no matter how many times you were beaten down.
Gribble clutched the wolf carving tighter, his knuckles straining white through the green. tears still spilled over his cheeks, but slower now, the first torrential flood ebbing to a trickle.
He would live, for them. he would grow, and fight, and one day lead, as they had wanted. he would keep their memory burning bright in his heart, a torch against the darkness. he would not let their lives, their lessons, crumble to bitter ash.
The sun dipped below the towering oaks, shadows unfurling across the loam. gribble straightened, every joint protesting. his eyes felt raw, swollen, his throat scraped clean. but beneath it a small ember of resolve took light, steadied by the weight of the wolf in his palm.
Gribble stood, brushing the leaf mulch from his breeches. he looked into the wild wood, at the twisting labyrinth of oak and shadow that had stolen his world.
I'll make you proud, he promised the waiting dark. I will be everything you taught me to be. everything you saw in me.
He tucked the wolf into his belt pouch, its slight weight a comfort against his hip as he turned back to the village. back to the huts and fires that seemed dimmer now, faded without the light of his father's smile, the warmth of his grandfather's laughter.
The days ahead would be hard, gribble knew. grimrock's shadow loomed, dark and hungry. the losses that gaped within him would never fully heal, not truly.
But he would endure. he would remember. and he would grow into someone who could bear the weight of his father's bow, his grandfather's spear.
He could do nothing less, to honor them. to keep their light alive, even as the rest of the world moved on, forgetting.
Gribble sought his bed as true night fell, his limbs aching and heavy. he thought of his father's hands on his shoulders, his grandfather's steadying gaze, and let their shades soothe him into sleep.
Tomorrow would come, as it always did, and he would face it. at first it will be just one day, without them. then two. then a season, a year.
Time would make strangers of his memories, wearing away at the keen edge of loss. but he would still carry them, faded but cherished, in some quiet corner of his heart.
A piece of his foundation. his history. it was their final gift to him, as valuable as his father's bow or grandfather's spear.
He would make it enough.

Let Me In: All-Seeing Eyes Rewrite
October 20th, 2023, Long Island. Abby and Owen were flying for a while before they eventually got to their destination. It was a park. It wasn’t anything special, mostly your standard park with playground equipment. But this one had a picnic area, along with a small lake where ducks and swans frequent. Usually, it was open for kids, however, it closes at 7:30PM for the older kids. The reason why they were coming over here is cause they met someone recently. It was a boy, a Kind boy named Adam. He was nice enough, but they didn’t really care. They mostly really had friends to fill the odd void of being normal. But none of their friends lasted long. ….Except for one, unsure what happened to that one. Anyway, they planned to eventually eat him, and today, was that day. They asked him to meet him at the park when it got later, that way no one would be able to hear him scream. However, when they got there, he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was running late? But this annoyed Abby and Owen. Owen didn’t really mind Adam, but still didn’t really like him much, he didn’t like how he could just talk to Abby. “Where is he…?” Abby asked, frustrated. “Maybe something came up? Or he just figured out something was off and didn’t come..” Owen suggested. Abby turned to look at him. Despite what Owen was saying, he was somewhat right, Adam did seem to be a bit more wary of them recently, almost as if he was frightened by them. “He didn’t play along. We should go find him. And show him what happens if you don’t play along.” Abby stated, her voice filled with malice and hunger. She glanced at Owen and leaped up into the tree, with Owen Following.

As the two vampires flew around town and leaped from Building to Building, two creatures watched them from afar. Ghostgoyles, was it? One looked like a Rat, while the other looked like a fox. “Here they come,” the Rat said. “Aye, It ain’t gonna take 'em long to find him, he almost done in there?” The fox asked. “Yeah, should be out in a bit. We should get going then.” The Rat replied. The Fox nodded as they leaped from the roof and into the building.

The two looked around, searching, looking for their prey. When they almost gave up, the door to a High School opened and Adam walked out. Abby’s first neutral face turned into one of predatory glee. “There he is,” Abby whispered. He was African American, had a Mario hat on due to the weather, a blue sweat jacket, a backpack, black sweatpants, and black and white sneakers. “Alright, guys, I’ll see you later,” Adam said. “Oh, you better believe it man, we’re gonna kick their ass!” Joe exclaimed. “YEAAAH!” Adam yelled with glee. Adam and his friends parted ways as Abby and Owen watched from afar. Adam was about to run but stopped. “What’s wrong?” A voice asked. “...I think someone’s watching me. I’ll walk until I’m sure no one’s watching.” Adam replied. “Alright, We’ll keep you safe.” The voice added. Adam nodded and began to walk home, paying attention to his surroundings. “Come on Owen, let's have some fun,” Abby commanded.

Abby and Owen followed Adam from above, their stomachs growling in hunger and slowly turning more and more rabid as the excitement of eating him gnawed at them. Owen was about to jump down to tackle him, but Abby stopped him. “Don’t worry, we will soon, just wait…” Abby ordered. Owen groaned. “I’m just getting hungry..” Owen replied. Abby stopped and kissed Owen’s cheek. “There…Something to hold you over..” Abby said, her voice filled with love.

“THERE’S SOMEONE FOLLOWING YOU, SPEED IT UP!” A voice barked. Adam stopped cold in his tracks and began looking around. No one was behind him, no one was in front of him, and no one was above him. He breathed a sigh of relief and kept walking until he stopped. Abby and Owen were standing a few feet away from him, smiling with predatory smiles. Abby waved at him. "THEY ARE GOING TO HURT YOU, TURN AROUND." The voice commanded. Adam turned around and began to walk away, but he heard Abby and Owen following close behind. "GO LEFT INTO THE ALLEY, I'LL TAKE CARE OF THEM." the voice instructed. Adam complied, darting into a narrow alleyway, but found himself at a dead end.

Adam turned and went to the alleyway, but there wasn't anywhere to go. "Wait..where am I gonna-" Adam said to himself. However, he didn't need to worry as something changed. His eyes turned green. He was…not himself as if he got possessed. “And now... to wait,” the voice within him stated ominously, as the alleyway grew still, the night air thick with tension.

Abby and Owen entered the Alleyway to find Adam facing away from them as if he was waiting for them. Abby didn’t seem to notice, she was too hungry to even care. “Oh? Look, Owen, he stopped running. I guess he gave up.” Abby remarked. But Owen wasn’t so sure. "Abby, I think there's something wrong," Owen said with concern. Abby simply shrugged it off. "Chill out Owen, he isn't gonna do anything. He's just a scaredy cat." Abby replied. Almost as if in response, Adam turned around, his eyes a vibrant, unsettling green, his expression unnervingly calm. "Follow my lead,” Abby whispered to Owen. She stepped forward, a false smile plastered on her face. “Oh hey, Adam! Sorry for scaring you earlier, we were just fooling around, you know?" "Yeah, come on, and we'll walk home with you," Owen added, trying to mask his own unease. Adam just stared, his expression unchanging, a silent challenge hanging in the air. Then, he finally spoke, his voice filled with rage. "Liar." "...What?" Abby asked, taken aback. "You guys are liars. You are trying to hurt me. So I'll hurt you," Adam replied, his tone seething with anger. "We aren't lying, calm down," Owen reassured trying to calm him down. Adam began to whistle a tune, similar to The Death Whistle from Puss in Boots 2 and slowly began walking to them. Abby's eyes began glowing and she grinned as he began walking closer. "Don't Owen. It's fun when they fight back." Abby said. Adam kept walking closer. "Abby, I think something's wrong here," Owen said. Abby grinned. She had an idea. As Adam got closer, Abby grabbed the nearby dumpster and slammed it right into Adam. It hit him hard and it dug into the wall. “There we go. Now he’s not a problem..Let’s eat.” Abby said. Owen nodded, but then…the dumpster began to move. “What..what?” Owen stammered. Adam's eyes glowed an even brighter green, and the dumpster, despite its weight, started to slide away from the wall. His voice, now a blend of his own and the sinister presence within, echoed in the narrow alley. “Silly…Silly….” With a sudden, unnatural force, Adam pushed the dumpster aside, standing up, his face slightly disfigured, but he put his hand over his face, as if wiping a window, and his face was back to normal. “Tis, but a scratch.” The alleyway filled with an eerie silence as Abby and Owen realized they were not the predators tonight. Abby’s eyes turned yellow as she barred her teeth. “Come on Owen, let's kill him,” Abby ordered. Adam laughed, it sounded similar to Sonic.exe’s laugh. “Alright then, let's dance!” Adam replied. Owen leaped for Adam, but Adam, with almost inhuman speed, dodged the attack, appearing behind Owen. With one swoop, Adam backhanded him, causing Owen to go tumbling down. Abby leaped for him but Adam turned and grabbed her in mid-air and threw him. His eyes turned Blue. “Haha! Come on, is that all you got?” Adam taunted. Abby got up, not too injured at all. “No.” Abby stated. Adam chuckled. “Good. Me too.” Adam remarked. He sensed Owen coming behind him as his fist began to glow. “Mach Punch,” Adam said to himself. Before Owen could react, Adam used Mach Punch and Punched Owen hard in the gut, causing him to go flying. Adam chuckled, but then Abby jumped on his back, Adam quickly grabbed her and threw her. “Come on, I’m not even trying that much!” Adam taunted. Adam’s eyes turned red as he looked around, noticing Abby and Owen were nowhere to be found. “Hey? Where did you two go?” Adam asked. He didn’t need to wait long as Abby tackled him, stabbing him into his side. He roared in pain as Owen tackled him as well, the two pinning him down. Abby bit into his neck, which caused Adam to roar in pain. It seemed to hurt a lot.

PLAYTIMES OVER.

Owen was about to bite into Adam when he heard an odd pulsing sound. “Wait, what's that sound-” Owen began to say. But he was cut off when Adam used a Nuclear Pulse attack. If you didn’t know, The Nuclear Pulse is an omnidirectional blast wave that is used to either send foes back when they are too close or deal damage up close. To use this attack, the user's scutes flash in a bluish color (usually) and then their entire body flashes and glows with the same bluish color, signaling that the atomic energy is about to be released into a physical form. Then the energy is released outwards as a pulse wave from the user's body in a powerful omni-directional attack. Owen and Abby flew back, a bit injured from the blast but Fine. But something changed again in Adam, this time his eyes glowed a deep purple as electricity sparked all around him. A Humming sound was heard coming from him as something glowed behind him. Oskar could tell that his ribs began to glow from under his shirt, his eyes becoming a sharp burning blue. “DUCK!” Owen yelled. Right on cue, Adam opened his mouth and arched forward as he released his Atomic Breath at them. The two vampires gasped and ran, the Atomic Breath following them. But then Adam began to move faster, the Atomic Breath growing more powerful with every movement, until it clipped Abby, causing her to gasp and collapse. Adam laughed, but this time it sounded more deep and gruffer…not to mention evil. “ABBY!” Owen yelled. Abby got up, but she struggled to stand. “A-Abby…?” Owen stammed. “We’re gonna tear him apart,” Abby stated. Adam’s eyes went wide as an eerie grin formed on his mouth. “Heh, well you know what they say…” Adam began, raising his arm as it began to shift and change. “Be Afraid of the Bark.” Just as he said that his arm became clad in red bark wood, spikes, and thorns. A green bulb appeared at the front as his fingers began more bulky. It was mimicking the arm of the Giant Tree Rex. He slammed the fist into the ground, using his ability Shockwave Slam on the ground, causing Owen and Abby to go flying into the air. His other hand became one of fire as he shouted “GET OVER HERE!” A chain with a sharp tip at the end fired out of his hand, similar to that of Scorpion from Mortal Kombat. The sharp tip stabbed into Owen and dragged him down, slamming him into the ground, making him pass out. Abby jumped on Adam’s back, but Adam grabbed her arm with his teeth, his eyes turning a bright yellow as he swung her, making her hit a wall and dislocate her shoulder. She looked up to see Adam rush at her, his jaws opening wide, and an imprint of sharp jaws appearing in front of his maw. She got out of the way as his face dug into the wall, but he quickly got out of it and hit her with his arm, making her back away on her legs. He began to chase her on all fours, grabbing one of her feet with his jaws. In response she kicked him, which pissed him off, his eyes turned emerald green as he leaped onto her, scratching her, making rips and tears into her clothes and tearing into her flesh as she kept backing up into the wall. Adam slammed his foot down onto her heart, causing her to yelp in pain, and punch him in response. He roared in pain and slammed it down once again, twisting it. Abby tried to pull his foot off but she couldn’t. She sighed as she stared at him. Adam looked down at her, eyes changing color as if multiple souls were taking turns to look at her as he glared down. That’s when Abby realized…they weren’t fighting Adam this whole time…they were fighting someone else. Adam roared at her, the roar mimicking that of Godzilla. Abby simply roared back. All of a sudden..he stopped. "You’ve got spirit, I'll give you that," Adam said, lifting his foot off of her. Adam began to shake his head, as if confused and bewildered. Abby stared as she began to realize.. The Real Adam was taking back control. His eyes turned back to brown as his eyes tried to look around and focus. “A-Adam?” Abby asked. Adam turned in response to his name but didn’t say anything, as if he was still dazed. He walked away, out of the alleyway. “WAIT, COME BACK!” Abby yelled. But Adam left. She stammered out, but Adam was gone, almost as if he disappeared.

Abby stood at the mouth of the alleyway, bewildered and aching. Adam had vanished, leaving behind only the echo of his supernatural wrath. Owen groaned from where he lay, beginning to stir. Abby rushed to his side, her dislocated shoulder throbbing with each step. “Owen, are you okay?” she asked, her voice strained with pain and concern. Owen blinked, his vision coming into focus. He winced as he sat up, clutching his side where Adam had hit him. “Yeah, I’ll live. What... what happened? Where did he go?” Abby shook her head, helping him to his feet. “I don’t know. One moment he was... something else, and then he just... stopped.”

“Something else?” Owen asked, leaning heavily on Abby as they made their way out of the alley. “Yeah, like he was possessed or something. His eyes, his strength... it wasn’t just Adam. It was like a dozen different creatures were fighting us,” Abby explained. “Should we…go after him?” Owen suggested. Abby shook her head. “No..We’ll come over tomorrow and get answers, let's just go home.”

The following Evening Abby and Owen got to Adam’s house, both healed, but a bit of phantom pain was still there. But they were both a bit nervous about doing this. Would he attack them again? Should they just turn around and forget this whole thing? No. Abby needed answers. Abby rang the doorbell and waited. But when the door opened, Adam wasn’t there. Instead, it was a girl. She had freckles and black hair, wearing a black t-shirt with a burning skull on it, and a skirt. She had bows in her hair and ribbons on her harms. It was Esther, Adam’s adopted Sister. “...Carrie? What the hell are you doing here?” Esther asked confused. Abby and Owen looked at eachother before Abby spoke up. “...I’m not Carrie? Who are you?” Abby asked. Esther stared for a second before it clicked. “Oh! Weird, you look almost EXACTLY like her. I’m Esther.” Esther stated. “Is Adam home?” Owen chimed in. Esther nodded. “Yeah, but he’s been asleep all day,” Esther said, but with a bit of worry. If only she knew what happened last night. “Can we uh..can we see him?” Owen asked. Esther looked behind her but stepped aside. “Sure, but he’s asleep, doubt you’ll be able to wake him up,” Esther said.

Owen and Abby walked down the hallway to Adam’s room, looking around at the photos on the wall, before Abby stopped. There was a poster on the wall that she had never seen before. It was a poster of a Lion lifting a crown over his head and holding a microphone. He wore a blue suit. It looked.. familiar. The tagline on it said “ALL HAIL THE KING!” The Character was…King Louie the Lion, from The King of the Jungle Cafe. Owen and Abby went there once back in the 90s when it was still open. Their prey- a friend’s dad worked there often- so they went there. It was a bit childish, but there was some charm in the colorful cast of characters. They do remember one odd day however when the Police were there. Apparently, Children went missing at the establishment. But that’s a story for another day. Abby blinked and the poster was gone. “...You saw that too?” Owen asked. Abby nodded. Was it a hallucination?

Abby and Owen got to Adam’s room and knocked. There was no response, but the door was unlocked. Abby looked at Owen and nodded, before opening the door. His room looked more or less the same: Blue-painted walls, a large mirror with a large TV, Posters lined the walls, and a large chair with a nice red Carpet with a dragon on it. And there on the bed was Adam in a deep slumber. He was sleeping on his belly and he snored a bit. It's almost like he was a large dog sleeping. Wishbone, an old white Dalmatian mix was lying next to him on the side of the bed when Abby and Owen walked in. He got up, sniffed Abby’s dress, and licked Owen’s hand before leaving, seemingly knowing they wanted to be alone. “Adam..?” Abby asked. Adam didn’t respond but shuttered, seemingly sensing someone's presence in the room. That’s when Owen noticed something. Abby bit his neck the night prior, but the scar was not there, it was as if he had never bit. The windows had curtains, but the sun could easily peer out. Was he..somehow not affected by vampire bites? “Abby, the bite mark… it's not there..” Owen stated. Before Abby could speak, Adam’s eyes slowly opened, for a second they were yellow before they changed back to brown. It took him a second to process that Abby and Owen were in the room. “Oh…Hey guys..” Adam spoke tiredly. Owen reached to touch his head, but Adam slightly moved away, seemingly not wanting to be touched. “How are you feeling?” Abby asked, putting on a bit of a facade. “...Weak. Like all the energy was drained from me, I don’t even remember what happened..” Adam stuttered. Owen and Abby’s eyes widen. “You don’t remember?” Abby asked, her voice filled with disbelief. Adam slowly shook his head. “Nope. Not a thing… All I remember is someone calling my name..” Adam stated. Owen was about to speak but Abby stopped him. “You…You attacked us.” Abby said, her voice a bit serious. Adam looked at her as if processing what she just said before his eyes went wide. “...Not again..” He said under his breath. “What?” Abby asked. “Nothing..Nothing. I don’t remember…If anything, I just defended myself from that f**ked-up prank you guys did.” Adam stated. He was hiding something..It was clear. “What do you mean?? You shot some kind of blue fire at us!” Abby asked with a bit of frustration. Adam’s eyes went red as if angry before going back to brown. Adam rolled his eyes tiredly. “That’s a nice argument, how about you back it up with a source?” Adam asked smugly and tiredly. Abby got more frustrated. “Trust me, I was there..” Owen replied. Adam groaned. “Listen, this happens to us sometimes, we sometimes end up fighting back when we feel threatened, if anything you guys saw a hallucination,” Adam said. Owen tilted his head. “That’s…not how that works,” Owen said. Adam stared and closed his eyes, before opening them again, but his eyes were swirls. Hypnosis. Before Abby and Owen could react, they were under his spell. “You will believe me about saying the breath was a Hallucination, the night was just a prank gone wrong. You will drop it. Now..AWAKE.” Adam ordered. Abby and Owen snapped out of their trance and looked at each other confused. “What happened?” Owen asked. “Nothing, you guys kind of just…zoned out,” Adam reassured. Abby looked around, somewhat concerned, until she noticed something. Eyes were peering out of Adam’s closet. Abby walked towards it, the eyes looking up at her. But when she opened it. Oh! It was just a Foxy Plushie. “...Huh.” Abby sighed. Adam looked at them. “You should go. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Adam stated. Abby and Owen looked at eachother and left the house.

As they walked away from Adam’s house, Abby’s expression turned serious. “He’s lying,” she muttered. Owen glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “You really think so?” Yeah, definitely. He tried to use hypnosis on us. It kind of worked, but not completely. He doesn’t realize it doesn’t work fully on us,” Abby explained, her tone laced with frustration. Owen lifted his beanie and scratched his head. “But..what would he be hiding?” Owen asked. Abby shrugged. “Something, that’s what. We’ll deal with it later ok?” Abby suggested. Owen nodded. “Alright, the night’s not over yet, what do you want to do?” Owen asked. Abby’s sly smile caught him off guard. It took a moment for the implication to hit him, and when it did, his face turned bright red. “Oh!” he exclaimed. Abby giggled. “Wanna watch a movie first?” Abby asked. Owen nodded. “Sure, but uh…” Owen began to say. Abby tilted her head. “What?” Abby asked. Owen tapped her and sprinted off, shouting “TAG, YOUR IT!” Abby giggled. “YOUR ON!” Abby shouted, sprinting after her lover.

From his window, Adam watched the two of them disappear into the night. “That was a close one,” he muttered to himself. “You guys need to stop being so aggressive.” “They were going to hurt you. We had to step in,” a voice echoed in his mind, firm and unwavering. Adam sighed, rubbing his temples. “I get that, but you didn’t need to go so hard on them.” “It was necessary. They bit you. We had to teach them a lesson,” another voice insisted. “Bit me? Weird, what the hell was that about?” Adam questioned. The figures shrugged. “And please don’t use the Atomic Breath after using so many attacks, it takes a lot out of me..” Adam stated. “No promises.” The voice inquired Cheekly. Just then Adam heard a radio frequency in his ear, but he was too drained to deal with it. “Don’t worry, We’ll get the others to handle it. Go back to bed.” The voice assured.

As Abby and Owen walked away, A shadow resembling that of King Ghidorah flew over the moon in the night sky.

To be Continued in Let the Old Dreams Die Retold.

Glory to the highest, I'm back! And now that's everyone else's problem...
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Notice: This story is about to humanity, but they are introduced much later into the narrative.
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Prev: Chains of the Veiled (4/?) :
Next:
First: Chains of The Veiled :
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Alcohol is a gateway to terrible things, but terrible things are the gateway to alcoholism. Such is when there are fewer things that are more appealing than forgetting tragedy, even if it’s all for a moment. I should have never indulged Kazzi with such an outing, even if it was something she seemed to enjoy so… When Kazzi finally reached the point of reconnecting with reality, I felt relieved. Having to deal with her being tipsy was tedious, and needing to carry her back during her blackout wasn’t any less annoying. She wasn’t heavy by any means, but good lord was she difficult to navigate with. All those horns made her difficult to carry, it was a pain to say the least. Not having to deal with any of that anymore made me pleased. However, in her somber state, Kazzi demanded to know everything that happened. Not wanting to be left in the dark regarding what was essentially a alcohol induced corrupted autopilot.
Telling her the information regarding the PSA really threw her for a loop and spurred her to delve into research regarding the topic herself. For an hour or so, Kazzi did nothing but sit at her personal computer, looking at all she could regarding all the response to the attack against her people. A study which spurred her to block out any background related details aside from her focus. It wasn’t until an hour or so later that Kazzi ran out of her room to ask me to pilot the ship to one of the local shipyards for some sort of important errands…
I never realized these errands would pertain to such maddening decisions being made. Then again what else was I to expect after all that’s happened…
The venture to the shipyards was one based on the need for maintenance. Which made complete sense when looking at the claim at face value. However, I could just feel from Kazzi that there was more to this venture than repairs. If what I predicted Kazzi was doing was indeed what this whole ordeal was about, then I wanted no part in it. I sacrificed enough in the last war that I served in, a service which I continue to regret for a multitude of reasons.
The casualties, the violence and unnecessary cruelty in several engagements resulted in a mind-numbing feeling to the pain no matter if it was felt or inflicted. It was torment for me on a personal level. Even if it was needed for the sake of survival, those shrill screams would forever haunt me in my darkest of dreams. I still wonder how I properly regretted the action, whether it was because of survivor’s guilt, guilt of cause, the numerous and horrible engagements. I could only guess how many times I was cursed by those who fell by the barrels of our guns. The war was needed as the Foretold was an existential threat, one that needed to be dealt with before it grew out of control. I played my part as sailor in the conflict, and I never want to go back… it’s an aspect of my life that I just refuse to go back to. No matter how good I might be at the helm, I refuse to let myself reminisce upon the memories of the past… None of them are worth remembering.
I Almost lost control during the escape of the Fulkari home system, and I can't let myself be subjected to situations that bring out that panic attack again. It’s too much for me… And going with Kazzi will only leave me susceptible to more of those traumatic withdrawals.
I Knew what she was doing, preparing for a complete refit, setting herself up as something of an independent… and I knew she was crazy. I knew she was crazy before, but this just takes the cake. Independents were the names given to crews of ships who were bound to no borders and served only what they were paid for, like mercenaries of sorts, hawking their services to whoever was willing to pay for them. An interplanetary guild was formed early into the GA’s founding in the effort to function as a support organization for independents alike, taking jobs that they had to offer. Whether it be from the government of wealthy people alike, work was provided to independents through the Guild. Many wannabe heroes go to the guild with whatever ship they can purchase, and most never manage to live long. To thick herself to be any different because of that bottomless wallet is laughable in my eyes.
Though, such expenses would provide quite the heavy amount of options for Kazzi to utilize. Ach! I can’t imagine it ends well even with the most advanced ship. The crew is what matters, and I doubt that she’ll manage to find the necessary people to form a coherent and effective force. Though…
She’d need me in order to-.
No, NO! Kovvak you’ve handled more than enough combat during your time in service to the Navy. You’re not going back to fighting… but can I?
I despise the time during my service, even if it was for something good. I can’t stomach the idea of going back to the frontlines again. But at the same time, the GA has issued a total war against the opposing force. Can I really avoid being pulled back into combat? I’m a veteran of war, but many will likely return to put an end to the Foretold as is needed. I know well that I never want to fall back into the military echelons, no matter the rank I receive. Should I follow Kazzi into the fires with whatever plan she has? I shouldn’t… I still have something to live for…
No, that doesn’t sound right…
…
I can’t avoid this conflict no matter how much I desire to… My species, the Galvaatus, were an honor-based race. To abandon those who needed you in their weakest moment would be a sin. To flee when your services were required, to leave for your own selfish desires rather than to give your life to fight the threats which put our very existence in danger, is a crime of which is worthy of great scorn. I was cultivated in this ideology for much of my life, and it’s shaped me into the man I am now. To deny myself is to abandon everything I have. I can’t leave Kazzi, no matter how much I would rather return to my home on Haphantus.
Even if what the Fulkari planned with nigh suicide, I couldn’t let her face it alone. Being honor bound had many downsides in that regard. I was never allowed to show any selfishness in regard to my own wellbeing. Something that I desperately wanted to improve given all the experiences as of late. Though, reminiscing on what I wish could be isn’t helpful when I should be preparing for the outcome which was most likely. I could only sigh and stare up at the ceiling which hung so far up above me.
It was like that due to just what kind of station section I was in. I was in the shipyard drydocks of one of the Core’s construction yards. It was an enclosed hanger for the most part, but that didn’t mean all of it was pressurized. I found myself on one of the pressurized walkways though, out of the way and giving me all the peace and quiet I could ask for. I found myself here out of an alien desire for solitude, something that I can't help but feel I’ve been needing for quite a while. It was relaxing for the most part, laxing along one of the gantries that ran across Kazzi’s yacht. It was a surreal feeling, to find such peace in such eerie and quiet.
After a while though, I received a notification of a text from the Fulkari. Pulling out my holo, I read the message which could be summarized simply with her wanting me to show face. Disappearing off like I did wasn’t something she appreciated, as I could clearly gather from the tone of the message. I could only huff in compliance, begrudgingly leaving my spot to head back and join her in the lobby of the dock.
It wasn’t too long of a walk, but given that the dockyard was over a kilometer long in order to accommodate any manner of standardized GA ship, it certainly wasn’t short. I walked the length of the dock, looking at the tube shaped yacht with the sloped and blocky bridge. This thing wasn’t built to handle combat like Kazzi was wanting. I had yet to understand what she was planning fully, but the general idea was her ordering Jasvikan ship modules to house weapons to create a warship. Turning a yacht into what I could only assume would be a battleship by purchasing parts, and making it to where she could do so legally by being an independent.
It was a simple idea, and one that the Fulkari intended to see through to completion. However, she seemed to make some massive oversights, especially regarding the obvious problems regarding a crew. There is no ship in the galaxy, civilian or otherwise, that can be operated by two people alone. Ships are not these craft that can be acquired on a personal level. They are a means of transportation and freight farrying that are operated by massive transport and shipping companies alike. They were parrales to ships in an aquatic sense. Sure there were some outliers with certain yachts and privately owned craft, but not to the scale of a Jasvikan ship like the one Kazzi Had. Even a skeleton crew would take dozens of people, especially considering how large she intended on expanding the craft with new Jasvikan ship modules.
I certainly hoped she didn’t plan on recruiting other Fojhiam escapees to whatever crew she planned. Not everyone was built for trauma in such a manner, and few would ever be willing to return to that forsaken system, even should it be to discern the true fate behind the planet. It likely still lurked with the remnants of souls forsaken by those wretched forces of the Black fleet. Not to mention any remaining ships of that scourge against the stars, scouring the space between the stars for any refugees. Hunting stragglers who couldn’t make it to the warpgate in time. I could only hope that maybe the military could organize a large enough scouting fleet in time.
It was spoken in the council of a fleet, organized from the forces and admiralty of several species to use a first contact warp gate, to scout the Fulkari home system. To get a lay of the land and analyze the damage that the enemy was able to inflict. To gauge their strategies and potential firepower. Given the severity of the situation at hand, it was issued from the council chambers of the Core that Independents would be able to apply for positions in the exploration fleet and be paid for in full at a rather large price as well. Millions of credits really. It seemed like too little to be risking your life, at least in my eyes, but others weren’t so lucky and surely needed the money.
Kazzi was not in any immediate need of financial aid due to her comfortable safety net of a bank account to fall on, but she was intending to join in the combined force regardless. Her need to know about the fate of her home world was a great one. Possibly debilitating based on how little I found her sleeping in her bed since we first arrived on the station. It’s been days since we initially arrived, and I feared the worst for that woman’s well being. She steeled herself in that metal tube, bolstering it with powerful armaments to turn it into a veritable battleship, but I knew she was fragile. She was scared…
She had every right to be in such a state.
The lobby of the dock where the Prestigious Vow was parked was just as prestigious as the Vow itself. As the dockyard was of the Core, it was one of luxury and amazement despite how bland and utilitarian they usually were. Compared to more other things that the core had to offer, this was utilitarian. This system was the culmination of endless wealth and influence from hundreds of species from over centuries ago. To create a political and economic powerhouse that all the GA would find profitable. This was the capital system of the entire organization after all. Not a single planet in this system was a home world, it was all constructed with the GA in mind, not one species over the other.
In this system, I found no home… it was too much for me, as I’d much rather live a more quaint and quiet life. At least as quaint and quiet as one could get in such a busy and crowded galaxy. I wanted to return to my home system of Quevrin, to live on the system’s fringes upon a station far from the busy conflict of modern-day issues and politics. All I wanted to find peace in my existence after all the Hell I was forced to experience and inflict. All I wanted was to live how I chose to do so. Unfortunately, duties pried us of our selfish desires in order to fulfill a task that we are obligated to see through. Mine was of no one but my own, to care and stand by someone who needed me, despite me not caring for such a thing. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to, for her sake.
“Kovvak!”
Speaking of the Devil herself…
Kazzi walked up to me in the lobby, looking almost offended that I wasn't here with her sooner. “What took so long,” She asked, “Were you on the other side of the drydock or something?” I sighed, before looking directly at her to respond. “Yes, actually… I needed some alone time to process and reminisce upon everything.” It was a statement with plenty of understanding to it. I was never one to be able to handle the weight of the world for so long and needed breathers in order to recollect myself. She seemed to huff in annoyance though.
“Fine, I guess, but I was worried that maybe you left. Took a shuttle from the hangar bay… I know that you don’t want to stick around.” Her statement caught me off guard in many ways, the most crucial detail being that she knew my intolerance to being dragged along. I wasn’t going to- “I know you want to leave, despite your species’ society being honor bound in a rather strict manner. I’m not stupid Kovvak, I know how you’re not supportive of your people's ways, wanting to live life as you see fit, and I get that. It’s why I’m choosing to become an independent, because it’s how I’m choosing to live in the new life that I’m forced to live. You don’t have to come with me should you not want to. I won’t force you, and I implore you to make the best decision for yourself.”
…
“W-Where did this come from?” I couldn’t help but ask, stunned by her dedication and acceptance of my wishes. It conflicted with a lot of what I figured about Kazzi at the moment. The loss of Fojhiam seemed to strike her harder than any kinetic round. This complete shift from what she once was completely stunned me. I had my thoughts, but this was outright confirmation of Kazzi developing in the right direction. She seemed to chuckle at my stunned expression, “I really threw you for a loop huh? What is me being more than some executive douche really that surprising? That I’m more than a cardboard cutout of stereotypes?”
… I could only stare, unsure of how best to respond to her question. I couldn’t avoid that my views on wealthy executives of such high rank were scum in my eyes. And that translated to my initial perspective of the Fulkari as well. Her being so rambunctious and extravagant really didn’t land with me the right way. Not to mention my history with the idea of superiors didn’t translate well into my office life with my previous service. The ship that I served had a captain less than stellar. My experience with him left me with a general unease with the concept of leaders in general. Everyone has flaws, but oftentimes those flaws are magnified by people being willfully ignorant to them… How Ironic that I thought that of her, when I didn’t even know mine myself.
Kazzi’s face seemed to stiffen when she realized the truth of my thoughts. She seemed to sigh in a disappointed manner, looking at me in a disappointed way. “I’m sorry.” I could only mutter. “I’ve never thought highly of those with a higher social class. It’s just, I’ve grown to see it as a festering pit of evil filth, even if it’s a view that I have because of my Bias…” I was ashamed of myself, more so disappointed to find out that I’m so close minded. I just hope that maybe I’m lenient enough to develop a better self-awareness of these flaws in the future. The Fulkari looked at me in a disappointed manner but shifted to one of understanding as she also reflected upon the words spoken.
“I can understand that” She stated, “I’m not unaware of the kinds of opinions people have about Millionaires. But at least we’re not billionaires! All joking aside, I try to not be so stupid and disrespectful to people in worse financial situations. There are many wealthy folks who refuse to even acknowledge them, leaving those beneath them to scrape away at whatever crumbs left behind. I know that it might be hard to believe, but I don’t want to be like that… I don’t want to be as much of a scum as some of my peers.”
“I can respect you for that” I said, “I’m sorry.” She smiled softly at that comment before replying, “But I wanted you to come and see the others! I gathered who I could from station 68 and had them come here once they agreed to my idea. I’d like you to come meet them… at least, the ones we haven’t already met.” Her self-correction was something that I found strange. Kazzi had a potential crew selected, but knew some of the people? Wait were… were Zikee and Bocc here to join in the endeavors?
Kazzi gestured for me to follow her to another room in the lobby, and I followed in kind. Wanting to know what she implied drove me to comply with meeting this supposed crew. The fact Kazzi was able to achieve this at all was amazing given the short amount of time it’s been. We’ve only been at the shipyard for a few days, and she’s already organized an entire force to assist her in the role of being independent. Fighting for what you chose to fight for… I followed her into another wing of the lobby to find a group of five people. Each species was different in the group, Bocc and Zikee among them. That confirmed what my Fulkari associate was implying. though one of them was…
“Vaggu?”
I asked aloud as I looked at another Fulkari woman who was no doubt the one that I saved back at the spaceport on Fojhiam’s surface. The gray skinned, black horned alien smiled at the sight of me, a light in her eyes forming in response to taking notice of me. Kazzi was surprised that I already knew one of the selected crew. Vaggu stood up from her seat and walked over to hug me, a gesture which I was greatly surprised by due to the rather unfamiliar relations we both shared. She likely did this out of appreciation for my assistance in escaping the Foretold machines.
“It’s good to see you again! I’m grateful for your efforts in getting us out of the mitts of those machines. Kazzi told me of how you were the one who piloted the ship, and I’m grateful for your skills at the helm. You saved a lot of good people, you’re a hero.” She said, leaning back to look me in the eyes. I could only chuckle and smile in response all the same. Hearing such praise from her really warmed my heart, making me feel all the more appreciated for my deeds all but a few days ago. I rubbed the back of my head as I sought to reply. “Thank you Vaggu, but I’m a soldier, not a hero. I put my life on the line so that others shouldn’t risk theirs.”
She smiled all the same, with a more somber understanding in her eyes. “Then thank you for being such a reliable soldier.” she stated, before stepping back to her seat, with Kazzi taking the floor in her steed. “So, Kovvak, I’d like to introduce you to the other two, since you apparently already know Vaggu… These two are Gavco and Ressej, our new logistical and weapon specialists.”
I looked over to the two unfamiliar sights to register them in my mind. They seemed like unique folk. Gavco was of a species of gelatinous slimes called the Urfokan that functioned as a cell. despite being multicellular, their bodies were comparable to amoebas, absorbing material through their red shaded translucent outer textures. The only qualities that they had that differentiated them from their amoeba counterparts was the neural network that weaved through their body which functioned as a nervous system and brain. Ressej was a member of a species of serpentine mollusks called the Trascill, with a body that seemed around 4 meters long. She had arms and a slim frame on her body’s top half, with two sets of arms. Her head was flat faced, and slopped at a steep angle, with her eyes placed upon the tops of waivable stalks. Her black body was viscous with a slimy texture that I refused to touch.
Kazzi continued on, “Vaggu here will act as our medical officer, and Bocc will be our reactor technician and engineer… Zikee has a unique role in this whole crew.” I turned to Kazzi directly before asking, “What’s her role?” I was expecting the Fulkari to explain herself, But the Kriviska stood up excited beyond belief. Her excited jittering was already extreme, but she jumped up exclaiming the whole plan with a single comment. “I’m going to be a Queen!!”
…Ah. I see…
From there it was simple to understand. The idea of Zikee being a queen would provide the crew with Kriviskan drone units. Drones, which depending on the food ingested, can serve in a multitude of roles. The idea was to simply ensure that Zikee had enough food for her and her drones to be able to create a full crew rather than a complete hiring. In a relative sense it was cheaper, as they simply needed to ensure there was enough food for the crew. The only Issue I would see forming is having to train them properly, as well as ensure that no hierarchical confusions occurred.
It made sense from a tactical and economic standpoint, but I couldn’t help but ask, “Doesn’t this seem a bit strange to you? The idea of using drones for service work?” Zikee stepped up to explain a bit further. “You see, drones function as a servant to the queens that birth them. In Kriviskan society, drones are a subclass compared to the queens. They’re not our children in the same sense as a royal larva is. That being said, it’s not legal or ethical to treat them like slaves, as per the GA Sapient Accord Doctrine. There are many ships and fleets operating in Kriviskan space with crews devised of drones with a queen commander. There’s nothing to fret about my Galvaatus friend.” Zikee’s confidence in the fact spurred a bit of ease in my demeanor. If what she said was true then I was simply worrying over nothing. I sighed turning to Kazzi once more, “Sorry, I was just a bit caught off guard by the idea.”
“It’s quite alright. I needed to know if you wanted to join me as a part of the crew for the new independent status, we’re after. You could be the Helm of the Prestigious Vow. What do you think, willing to give another chance at kicking in the teeth of Foretold?” Asking me in a somewhat excited manner. I was a bit conflicted, but ultimately the conversation with myself from earlier came to light. This wasn’t about honor; this was about doing what was best for the people that needed your help.
If there’s any sliver of a chance of survivors on the other side, then I must do what I must to find and save them. Such is the will and role of a soldier. My days in such a position might be over, but I don't need to be in the military to fight the good fight. The quiet life is always waiting for me, I’ll be able to go whenever. But not for now, I am needed. I have been called and I will answer.
“Very well. I’m needed, and I might as well. A quiet life is always waiting for me after all.” I stated, nodding in agreement. I watched as Kazzi smiled, mouth open, and eyes gleeful at the fact. She went about turning to frivolously type away at the Holo she held, completing what looked to be an independent resume. Filling in the last of the crew ledger and marking all the boxes for the required positions green. With all the information needed, all Kazzi had to do was press send. The click of approval rang out as well and all came to the realization that this was it. Whether or not we were accepted from our request form was up to the guild…
“And now we wait…”

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Memory transcription subject: Herq, Tilfish Junior Exterminator
Date [standardized human time]: December 4th, 2136
I was so tired. My body ached from the last few tortuously slow hours, filled with wary exterminators, carrying crates, and explaining the same things over and over again. My arms and legs felt like jelly, my thoughts were little more than mush, and my whole body disagreed with every motion. But I endured it. I couldn’t stop now.
Our first stop had been Jarn. Her and her team were easy enough, their position was right next to where we dropped off Luke, Dusty, and Reno, and she took the weapons without much question. That was where the easiness ended. Dernst’s team was next, and he was apprehensive of Frankie. So were all the others. It was a terrible repeat of what happened at the predator disease facility. Even when faced with what I considered more than enough evidence of their good intentions, they were skeptical. And once again, it was up to me, an exterminator, to smooth things over.
Frankie pulled up to our last stop, and I tapped at my holopad to inform Verlli of our arrival.
Frankie yawned. “Right. Last one.”
I flicked my antennae, shoving the door open. I almost let my guard down. We hadn’t encountered any grays in Tepisil so far, mostly in part to Frankie’s navigation, but that fact only made me more worried rather than relieved. It was like the gentle breeze before the whirlwinds of a storm.
I walked towards the side exit of the building. It was inconspicuous enough, opening into the dark alley we were currently in; just a small opening with dumpsters alongside the walls that stretched upwards for three floors.
I extended a feeler to test the door when it suddenly jerked open at me, making me flinch. Verlli stood in the doorway, and he looked about as tired as my body felt. To no surprise, he looked like he’d been up all night, and his vest had some sort of stain on his left side, where the exterminator’s insignia was. He clicked his mandibles. “It’s about time.”
“You were the last group,” I responded.
“I’m aware. The predator is with you?” He stuck his head out the door, casting wary glances left and right before settling on the human.
“Frankie,” I corrected. “I could use some help getting it upstairs for you.”
“Mar and Cogal are upstairs. Keeping watch.”
“That’s fine.” I turned around, spotting the muscular human already with a pathetic pile of crates stacked beside the truck. Only a few were left inside when he slammed the doors shut. As I approached him, Verlli followed, although kept his distance. He must have recognized Frankie from the predator disease facility.
“Here’s the rest of it.” Frankie huffed. He adjusted his gaze, taking in Verlli’s form. “Hey… Do I know you from somewhere?”
Verlli shifted. “I don’t believe so.” I cast a glance at him for his lie. He tilted an antenna at me, signaling to not pursue it, though I didn't have the energy to do so regardless.
Frankie shrugged. “Fair enough. Well, I’ll leave you gentlemen to it. Don’t take too long, I’m overdue for a nap.”
I grabbed two of the crates. “Thank you, Frankie.”
Verlli waited until the Terran disappeared around the side of the van before inspecting the crates. “This is it?”
“You can complain like the others did, but you won’t get any more.”
“Are they covered in fucking Arxur blood?”
“It’s a long story.” It was, and I had already explained it to all the other teams.
He clicked his mandibles. The silence that hung in the air when he picked up the remaining crates reminded me why I was dreading this meeting. Verlli and I never got along before everything, and that wasn’t helped by his strong anti-human sentiment which had gotten even worse after the PD facility. Most of the other exterminators I’d met with so far didn’t entirely appreciate Frankie, which was why he stayed in the truck for our past few encounters. I had a feeling Verlli would be worse.
I walked inside, waiting for Verlli to take the lead. He passed me. “Working with a predator must be stressful.”
There it is. I waved an antenna in response. It wasn’t worth getting into it with him. Not now, not after all the others who’d said similar things, all trying to antagonize me or get a reaction.
We came to a flight of stairs. “Have you heard about Dirlsil?” he asked.
My interest was piqued. “I don’t believe so…?”
“You know General Ticoid? He was in-”
“Dirlsil. I know.”
“He’s likely dead,” he bluntly stated.
My antennae straightened in shock. “W-What? He had access to all the weapons the UN left behind. How?”
“How do you think?”
“I thought he would’ve… I-I don’t know.”
He turned the corner to the next flight of stairs. “We got news of it just a few minutes before you got here. They don’t have the full details, but they were attempting to relocate when his team suddenly went dark. We think most of them were wiped in an ambush.”
“Has anyone else taken charge?”
“We just got the news,” he bitterly remarked.
I lowered my antennae. “W-What about the shelters?”
“No clue. With no proper leadership, I can’t imagine they’re going to be faring better than the bunker the humans were supposed to defend. Not to mention the loss of personnel over the past week due to our wonderful occupiers.”
“It shouldn’t be like this,” I muttered. “It didn’t have to be like this.”
He wiggled his antennae. “You’re right. It all came down to the actions of… a select few people.”
I looked up at him, wondering what was hidden in his tone. I decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. We came up the final steps, and he led me around a few corners until we came into a room overlooking the street. I could see the entrance to Bunker Five further down the road. Mar and Cogal rose from their sitting position once we entered.
I never interacted with them much, but they hadn’t been a part of the few who were forced into the predator disease facility. I never got a terrible impression of them, which left me wondering why they were with Verlli.
Mar, the slightly taller of the two, approached. “The weapons… this is it?”
Verlli flicked his antennae. “That's all Herq could muster.”
“It’s better than one gun and two mags split between the three of us,” Cogal added.
I tried my best to pretend like Verlli wasn’t there. “I think Reno showed you everything you need to know about these…?”
Verlli scoffed, “You mean that Yotul? The diseased primitive that the predators brought with them?”
“I…” My voice faltered. His words were true enough, but they didn’t sit right with me, in part due to his tone, and after everything I learned.
“Thanks, Herq,” Mar finally said, relinquishing me from my encumberment. “It’s a damn good stroke of luck that you happened to be in Dirlsil when the grays came.”
I was all but ready to leave this planet before that, and I wasn’t even the one who thought of the idea of getting them. My own inaction is the only reason I’m here, and what I have done won’t amount to anything.
I swallowed. “Luck. Yeah.”
“You didn’t see anybody while you were gathering them, did you? I heard-”
“No, he was with his predator,” Verlli interrupted. “If there were any others, they would’ve shot the beast like any sensible exterminator.”
“He’s not a beast,” I stated. “He’s done more than anyone could ever ask for.”
“I’m sure you would think that. You’ve been spending an awful lot of time around the predators, haven’t you?”
I glared at him. “An invasion is hardly a good time to make accusations, Verlli. Especially after what happened at the facility.”
“Funny of you to bring that up. You mean how you froze up like a coward?”
I disregarded the comment. “They came with good intentions, just like any of us would.”
“They killed eleven of our people after that anonymous tip was made.”
“I won’t argue about this. I’m tired.”
He pushed it further. “We’re down a quarter of our forces after that happened. These weapons aren’t going to cut it. It doesn’t make up for the situation you forced us into.”
He was absolutely correct, but he shouldn’t have known why. That was something I was supposed to carry alone, yet his voice dripped with blame that settled heavily into my thoughts like concrete. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my voice from quivering. “You have your weapons. If you have nothing else to add, I’ll be on my way.”
He tilted his head up, and I thought that was the end of that. Neither Mar nor Cogal had anything to say, relegating themselves as bystanders to Verlli’s vitriol. I was ready to leave, and was in the doorway before he threw out one final insult.
“I could see it in you from the first day. I don’t know why Poccel ever let you near him.”
My legs anchored themselves on the floor, and I angled my head back. “I watched Poccel die. Don’t you dare say that.”
“And who is to blame for that?”
I felt my heart creep up my throat. “What are you talking about? Many things went wrong that day.”
“We’re all aware… You know he survived an Arxur raid? Long before you were even a thought in anyone’s mind.”
“I am well aware of his accomplishments,” I angrily clicked.
“His experience would’ve been paramount right now. He worked his ass off for all of us. His entire life, career, what he stood for, gone in an instant. You just carry all that weight around? Like it’s nothing?”
I had the unshakable feeling that he was leading me on, but he was doing an excellent job at pissing me off. “What is your problem with me? Across our planet, millions of people are dying. Being herded into cattle ships. Is there really nothing better you can be doing than lob insults?”
“They aren’t insults. You know as well as we do what you did, what you’re still doing by toting yourself around with that predator.”
“Verlli…” Cogal started.
“No,” the exterminator continued. “I know the truth about what this freak did. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, to see if he showed any self-awareness of his actions before sharing, but he's clearly diseased.”
Verlli was taking this further than I ever would’ve liked. I should've just left, but at this point, it was more than personal. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
“It was you who called the humans. That ‘anonymous tip’?” Verlli looked back at Mar and Cogal. “That was him. He's the reason Poccel’s dead; the reason eleven people died by predators’ hands; the reason the rest of us are going to die in this invasion. He thinks he can drop off a few weapons and it will all be better.”
The other two looked taken aback. I struggled to find my own voice. There was no way he could've known that. I only told the humans immediately after the firefight. Ever since I said the words aloud, they kept coming back to me, pounding into my thoughts collectively with all my other mistakes.
Mar twitched her antennae. “Herq?”
I didn't have a response for her, or even myself. I felt dizzy. My only saving redemption was that I could've carried the guilt all on my own without the others knowing, and now it was gone. There was more to it, but they would never see it. They would only see the bodies, just as I did every time my mind wandered.
“He doesn’t even try to deny it,” Verlli clicked, taking a step towards me. “He knows what he did, and he tries to act like a normal person. Like he isn’t diseased.”
“W-We were locking up our own people…” I managed. I glanced back at Mar and Cogal, but they averted their gaze.
“And you should’ve gone down there with them,” Verlli finished. “If our planet weren’t being bombed, I’d put you away myself, along with all the others who sympathize with the predators. You make me sick.”
“You’re… You’re just as scared as Poccel was.”
“I’m not scared of anything. There’s thousands of ships up there, and I’ve all but accepted my chances. You? You’ve hidden yourself away with the vicious beasts because you think they can save you. They see us as plague-bearing pests, which only makes me wonder what you see yourself as. The vest you’re wearing is a mistake, and the rest of you is no better.”
I took a trembling step towards him before I knew what I was doing. “If I die on Sillis, it will be for what I know is right.”
“We’re all going to die here. I’m going to bring down as many monsters as I can before that happens.”
I took another step. We were now face-to-face, my heart hammering. “If you think I’m a monster, I’m right here.”
Verlli hesitated, as if sizing me up. “Do you want to do this? What the fuck do you think is going to happen?”
“You’re just as blind as he was, too.” I stated, my voice strangely calm. “Everything I’ve done has been to avoid fighting. And no matter what I do, people like you always try your best to ruin it. No amount of convincing or proof will ever be good enough for you. You have eyes, but you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.”
“I see a diseased coward.”
“And that’s all you’ll ever see because that’s all you want to see.”
This close to him, I could feel the heat of his rage. “Get the fuck out of this building.”
I finally backed up. “I didn’t need your permission.”
I could feel their gazes on me as I left the room and casually made my way downstairs. The moment I was out of their sight, I heaved an enormous, painful breath that was building inside me. My legs were trembling as I made my way down the rest of the stairs.
I began clawing at my vest. I felt disgusting wearing it, the exterminator insignia a revolting stain on my body. Verlli was right. I didn’t deserve to wear the thing. My entire experience with it had been one mistake after another.
You did nothing before you ever put it on, and after you did, eleven people were killed.
I burst out the fire exit, heading towards the truck while yanking off the thing. I opened the door to the truck, where Frankie was waiting.
“Hey, what-”
I threw myself into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind me. I wadded up the vest as best I could with my supplies still in it and tossed it into the back seat without giving a second glance at it. Frankie had a confused look on his face, but didn’t open his mouth.
“Just drive, p-please. I want to get away from this place.”
He nodded and started the engine. I ran through the confrontation over and over in my head, wishing I’d done everything differently. Wishing I just left before it escalated, or that I’d thought of some more clever response, or that Verlli had simply been respectful for once.
It was self-torture at best. Every time I ran it over again, the outcome was always the same. Ripping off my vest. The damn thing never belonged on me to begin with. I hated it. I hated the reflective suits, I hated the smell of gasoline, and I hated how it never amounted to anything. There was always another predator attack, or a sighting, or a drill. And there were always the scared people who expected me to save the day.
I had nothing to offer them. It was always an empty promise that I gave them, something I knew I could never fulfill.
Now the facade was gone for good. Everyone would know what I was. A mistake.
I just wanted to help. To improve the lives of the people around me. Formi knows that’s all I ever wanted.
“That Verlli guy is a massive prick,” Frankie abruptly said. “I reckon he said some proper nonsense.”
My breathing hitched at Frankie’s sudden voice. His gaze hadn’t left the road, and his expression didn’t betray anything unusual. “Y-You knew…?” I managed.
“I knew he recognized me the moment I saw him. Spineless mongrel.”
I ran my feelers over my antennae over and over. I felt like huddling in a corner and falling asleep forever. I didn’t belong anywhere with anyone.
Suddenly there was a warmth on my chitin. “You’re one of the best people I know, Herq.”
I almost pulled away from the touch. “W-What?”
“I mean it,” the human stated. “I don’t know what happened back there, but I honestly don’t care. You’ve already done more than anyone could ask of you, and you’re still doin’ it.”
He withdrew his hand, leaving a sudden coldness where it was.
I had no idea what to say. Or what to think, even. My own people thought I was a diseased monster, while a predator—one of the same my government opted to bomb to extinction—thought I was a good person.
A wave of nausea rolled through me like a harsh stormfront. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything—everything—is wrong.”
“Are you trying?”
My body didn’t want to respond. My mandibles refused to move and my feelers were plastered to my antennae. I took control of what little I could and awkwardly bobbed my head forward and back in a bizarre motion.
He returned the gesture. “So am I. Can’t ask much more from me, I reckon.”
I sucked in a shaky breath of air. I gradually, laboriously withdrew my feelers from my antennae. They still felt like bricks on my head.
“Sky’s getting lighter, perfect time for a nap once we get back,” Frankie remarked. He faced me, eyes tired yet still so full. “How’s that sound?”
“It… It sounds good.”
—
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Thanks to u/WCR_706 for proofreading. And, of course, thanks to SpacePaladin15 for the wonderful universe.

This started happening 2ish years ago when I was under a lot of legit hardcore stress. Not petty stuff but like legit chronic debilitating psychological stress from an ongoing abusive living situation. I don't really have that kind of stress anymore since my life has changed a lot since then, however...
These symptoms are still happening to me but even over minor stress now, maybe once every 1-3 months but it always starts out with stress even if it's just something stupid like my computer mouse batteries died while I was playing a game, or my cat threw up on my bed, or my food delivery was wrong, or technical difficulties in a discord call. Basically just stupid things that are annoying that people rectify and mentally get over in a few seconds or minutes, and that I myself usually get over just as fast.
But during when this headache/throat thing happens as a result, it's like a lever has been pulled that can't be set back and all I can do is ride it out until it's over in couple days. I start feeling aches in the front of my head and behind my eyes, and my throat and jaw starts hurting. The headache starts spreading down my neck and shoulders over the next couple of days. My head starts throbbing harder and harder every hour and I feel like I'm not getting oxygen or something. Something is also happening to my vocal chords or throat, because I find it hard to speak as if it requires a million times as much energy to speak words, and there's a really strange feeling in the throat that I don't know how to explain well, it's like muscles tensing up uncontrollably and its extremely uncomfortable.
It usually lasts a couple days, but the trigger is always the same, like a switch got flipped in my head after I got even briefly upset that suddenly makes my body start uncontrollably torturing me with aches and pain in my head/neck/throat/shoulders for days. It's really weird and I just want it to stop.

Wanted to share my experience thus far on compounded tirzepatide as it's been almost a month now and I only have good things to say about the experience.
I may catch some flack for this, but I am not overweight. (Please continue reading this post before you decide to roast me.) I decided to consider the medication because I am always losing/gaining the same 15 lbs and I needed a little help and I have significant issues with "food noise."
I have been in a weight loss mode since December. In addition to working out 4-5x a week, I am good at sticking to an appropriate deficit (~300 below my BMR), but I struggle with food noise and binging at times.
My binging is not out of control, but it happens enough to make me uncomfortably full, cause stomach issues, lead to severe nausea, and oftentimes negate deficits from prior days to the point that I maintain rather than lose. The food noise issues are unreal and very much not "normal", if I wrote about all the instances I'd struggle this already long post would be double the length.
I struggled with a restrictive ED about 10 years ago, but have been in active recovery for a long time. I don't have any current issues with over restricting or purging, just the food noise and overeating.
So anyways, I went to a medspa and they threw me a prescription. I've been doing 2.5mg.
I've stuck with a calorie intake of about ~1300 calories a day, continuing my focus on high protein. I've also stayed fairly consistent with my working out. I've had zero negative side effects aside from some mild constipation and occasional fatigue. Some upset stomach if I eat something fatty. While the weight loss is nice (about .75 to 1 lb a week), here's the benefits that are the best:

1. Food noise is reduced DRASTICALLY. My appetite is reduced but not nonexistent, so I am able to eat at appropriate times and eat appropriate amounts.
2. I can pay attention to my hunger cues. I stop before I'm so full that it hurts.
3. I'm CHEWING my food instead of shoveling it down. I was a very fast eater before.
4. Emotional snacking is out the window. I used to be an anxious nibbler at social events and now I'm really able to keep that in check (i.e. not mindlessly munching on stale chips and salsa while out with friends, grabbing a piece of candy because I'm bored at work)
5. My stomach issues are so much better. I used to get constant stomach aches and gas cramps when I would overeat. I can avoid foods that I like but upset my stomach like dairy.
6. Reduced desire for nicotine. I've been using nicotine pouches for a few years now (smoker beforehand) and I've cut my use of those by about 50%.
7. Not much of a drinker to begin with, but I was definitely someone that once I DID drink, I found it hard to stop. I drink much slower now and drink much more mindfully.
8. Lack of overindulgence on vacation and holidays. A little fluctuation here and there by a pound or so, but nothing like in the past when I'd come home and see 5+ extra lbs on the scale. (Which I know is mostly water weight but is also demoralizing let's be honest)
9. I'm actually quite happy with my weight right now compared to how I felt when I first asked for a prescription. I'm technically still 7 lbs away from my original goal weight, but I'd be completely okay if I stayed exactly where I am and continued to benefit from the other effects. It's been a massive mental shift. I feel much more comfortable in my body now that I'm not bloated from overindulgence or eating food that I'm sensitive to.

I initially only told my husband that I was starting due to the stigma behind this medication, especially people using it that traditionally don't qualify with normal BMIs. But I wound up disclosing to my therapist, psychiatrist, and parents because the mental health benefits have been so strong. My mental health team was surprisingly supportive, noting that this is just "a tool in my tool belt" for weight loss/maintenance. We all agree that the help it's given me with overeating and food noise is better than anything I've had in over 10 years of therapy. Obviously I'm being monitored to make sure I don't slip into disordered territory.
I do wish more people in my boat would be transparent about their use of the medication. It's no secret that a lot of celebrities, influencers, and even just everyday people are using compounded GLP1 medications and passing it off as something else. So that's why I'm posting today because I know I'm not the only person using it for "those last 15-20 lbs."
I also think we need to be careful about who we're just throwing these meds on with no guidance. If it weren't for my past work with dietitians, ED therapy, and just therapy in general, I feel like this medication would have thrown me right back into eating disorder territory. It's genuinely concerning to me when I see people post on here about using the medication to completely fast or eat far less than a recommended deficit.
My biggest belief is that habits on these meds need to be sustainable off the meds as well.
My plan now is to try and stay on these meds for the next few months to really solidify my new habits (paying attention to hunger cues, not eating past the point of being full, actually chewing my food, avoiding emotional eating). I won't be increasing my dose anytime soon as I want any additional weight loss to be slow and steady.
Happy to answer any questions if someone has them and wants to ask or DM me.

With productive farming, the oil industry, and the major highway I-44 running through the county, there are historical sites. Visits should check out some of the more popular spots.
The unemployment would lead a man to kill, breaking the commandments. The jury voted with head and heart. “Thou shalt not steal”, “Thou shalt not kill”, and love thy neighbor seemed a long way from this story.
Ronson Kyle Bush is a man whom, to say the least, is a man with many problems. The first of those being aggressive and abusive. The second, he landed on death row after a long criminal history.
Ronson Bush made himself as well-known a quantity to law enforce as anyone could get. The Grady Police picked him up for bar fights and bad behavior that led to more than just abusing his wife.
Stepanie Morgan married in 1998 To Ronson Bush. It would be not long after that the nightmares of not knowing his moods became the worst kind of game ever, a game of survival. After two years of this aggressive abuse, Stephanie got out and got a divorce. It would still take a long time to get any child support and he even claimed the child wasn’t his.
Bush was always obsessive. He would follow her around in the daytime instead of working. She felt trapped, imprisoned, by his mental illness and his unwillingness to do something better. He was a heavy alcoholic. Bush would end up with a DUI.
After the divorce, his behavior became increasingly alarming. It was as if he was already poised for this behavior. Bush’s didn’t seem to pause with the marriage. Instead, he became more aggressive, and harming those he swore he loved. It is obvious his love map is extremely confused. His marriage to a good Christian woman ended in 2000.
It is quite the set back as far as being able to prove he was something more than just an abusive drunk. He was mentally ill, with bouts of jealous, anger management, and paranoia. This led to following his ex-wife around as if he owned her, even causing confrontations if he found her having a date. Bush didn’t believe their marriage was over and he owned her.
Reportedly, Billy Harrington, his closest friend, often tried to help Bush through mental health and legal events. He often helped get Bush into a facility, in Oklahoma or out of jail. But Bush could be very combative, to the point of violence, even on his closet friend. A thing Billy would not live to regret.
Stephanie Morgan, Bush’s ex-wife, had a restraining order against him due to his nature, domestic abuse was a big issue in the divorce. They had one child together, and this restraining order was the best way to protect her child. This was a sour apple pie for Bush. Bush felt justified in often violating the restraining order. After all this was His wife and she had promised him forever. Those vows meant something to him but to her she threw their love away. But Bush had several nefarious things on his plate, in between tormenting his ex-wife.
The child he refused and was cruel to, had one good thing starting out, his MOTHER. The child was given a paternity test in 2010, this sealed the deal for Bush on the child. Too bad he was such a terrible human being to others, were he not, his family would be there for him. And this murder would not have occurred.
Even before the marriage to and during the dating of Stephanie he was breaking and entering, beating people up and even the DUI. In 1997, Bush was convicted of Second-degree burglary.
In 1999 he stole a credit card and ended up charged with stealing the card and possession of a stolen credit card.
In 2001, he would be convicted of 3 counts of receiving/possession of stolen property, and 19 counts of uttering a foreign instrument. He received twenty years in prison and later got out in 2007.
On the evening of December 22, 2008, while at Billy Harington's home, Ronson Bush shot Harrington six times with Harrington's .357 caliber revolver. Harrington made it to the front yard of the home, where he collapsed. Bush then tied Harrington to the back of his pickup and dragged him into a field near the house.
Everyone gave accounts, Harrington and Bush had been best friends for a number of years. Harrington did what he could to aid Bush who dealt with addictions, paranoia, and other related mental illnesses. Harrington's final attempts to assist Bush came just days before the shooting. On December 18, Harrington attempted to take Bush to Griffin Memorial Hospital in Norman, Oklahoma but Bush was exceedingly drunk, and the two men fought during the trip.
Harrington left Bush in a parking lot in Norman and drove on to Tulsa for work. Bush hitched a ride back to Harrington's trailer. When Harrington arrived home that evening, accompanied by Jimmy Barrington, they found Bush passed out on the couch with Harrington's firearms purposefully placed around the house. Concerned for his safety, Harrington made a call to the County Sheriff's Office. It didn’t take long for deputies to respond. This wasn’t the first time with Mr. Bush.
Calling the Jefferson sheriff's office for assistance was the beginning of the end of a situation too far over the heads of all those involved, including Bush. Bush was already fast approaching his break during all the traumatic turmoil he had caused. The disaster he left in his wake left Bush on the outs of society.
There had yet to be an altercation with the deputies, Harrington didn’t want that for his friend, Bush. Sadly, this situation also foreshadowed a series of events involving his ex-wife and his best friend.
Drunk and combative when officers arrived. Bush had to be subdued and found himself nearly under arrest for resisting and officer. Bush had several priors by this point, including a murder he was acquitted of committing. This didn’t mean he didn’t do it; everyone just knew the kind of man he was. For that reason alone, the officers didn’t waste time getting to the Harrington’s trailer.
Harrington not wanting his best friend behind bars, kept them from taking Bush that night from jail. After negotiating with the officers that Bush would voluntarily check himself into the Griffin Memorial Hospital, they apprehensively let it go. One of the deputies muttered as he left, “man, your too good a friend for this.” But without any official report of charges, they couldn’t take him without Harrington stating a trespassing or other more serious threat.
Harrington was convinced Bush just needed help and his friend, Harrington, was determined to get Bush help from some professionals. Unfortunately, Part of Bush’s illness inspires great distrust in said professionals.
Along with a long criminal history in the state of Oklahoma, Bush had also seen more than his fair share of mental and physical illness. Even as a child, his parents had treated him differently, he was “loved” like most children, it was almost as if Bush were merely tolerated.
It was not enough hugs, genetics, a terrible skill set for making choices, and his inability to tell who was truly, just his friend trying to help and the rest of the world, which landed him on death row in Oklahoma.
Harrington, again, agreed to take Bush back to Griffin Memorial Hospital. Where Bush voluntarily admitted himself for treatment. This was not his first ride in the mental health unit. He wasn’t about to stay, not of his by his own hand.
Bush checked out on December 22, just a few days before Christmas. Thoughts of his ex-wife and child, mainly his ex-wife, dance through his head like sugar plumb fairies, armed with jack and sledgehammers. Darkness was creeping into his sober, troubled mind. He refused the medication upon leaving. Because he went willing and signed himself into the facility, Bush was able to check himself out of the hospital.
Not having had a way home from Norman, when Bush got out of Griffin Memorial Hospital, he called Harrington for a ride. Even though he was a friend of Bush, very loyal to the end, with the best of intentions to his friend. Harrington should have thought twice and told him to stay, take the meds, get help. But Harrington drove to Norman to get his ill friend.
They made their way to return to Harrington's home. Along the way, bush insisted on stopping at a liquor store. Harrington didn’t think it was a good idea and discussed it and discussed it. Harrington was hoping to dissuade Bush from alcohol, he attempted to distract Bush the best he could. But they finally ended up stopping in Blanchard, Oklahoma.
Much to Harrington’s frustration and disappointment, Bush drank vodka from a pint bottle on the way home. All the while he thought of all the men who had been with his “wife”. He just could not bear it, the thoughts of all those little Nutcrack Toy Soldiers parading around “his” home, in front of his “wife”. Harrington had not a single clue as to the self-torment slowly ready to boil over in Bush’s head. Like a country band attempting to play dance of the sugar plum fairies only on banjos and tabletop guitars, it just wasn’t going to go well, there seemed to be nothing to stop the train wreck of thoughts Bush had toward anyone, Harrington included.
Every so often Bush would say something under his breath as if speaking to himself. This made Harrington only slightly uncomfortable. This had been his best friend since grade school and Harrington believed he knew this man, this friend better than any other human on the planet. Harrington would sadly be proven wrong.
Once back at Harrington’s home, they played with Harrington’s dogs, bullshitting, and talking about the world. All the while Bush’s brain slowly cooked over the men in his ex-wife’s life.
Harrington sat his friend down for a haircut hoping to let Bush sober up a bit and maybe get a little sense. This haircut would be the last one that Harrington gave to anyone.
The men decided, for some reason, it was a good idea to shoot guns off the back porch. Some very bad decision making was shown with this act. Harrington wasn’t aware of how his friend was quickly evolving into the green-eyed monster. The jackhammers inside Bush’s brain pounded out of rhythm. The last dosage of medication at the hospital, and the days he took it, combined with alcohol in vast amounts, as Bush drank it would only lead to additional fuel for his psychosis. A kind of possessive darkness crept slowly in, ever since Harrington picked him up from the hospital, it only seemed to grow darker faster. Harrington had no idea what was about to boil over and change the harshest of realities for his loved ones, losing Billy.
Sometime around 7:15 p.m., Harrington was talking to his girlfriend on the phone. Harrington’s girlfriend heard Bush in the background. The idea that Bush was at her boyfriend’s house made her blood freeze. She knew her boyfriend, Billy, was loyal to Bush. But she had said before maybe the friendship was taking advantage of his very kind nature.
Things started downhill when Harrington mentioned he had gotten Christmas presents for Stephanie Morgan, an ex-girlfriend, and her child. As a friend, he was so loyal he considered it his duty and his kind heart weren’t going to let that child think Bush didn’t love him. So, as a good friend to Bush, Harrington had gotten them a little something. It wasn’t really anything to write home about, but Harrington had been a little generous. After all he considers himself the godfather.
Harrington told Bush to forget about Morgan, as she was sleeping with other people. According to Bush, Harrington had even gone on to say he had slept with her. More fuel for his dark thoughts if Harrington had really said this to him. Law enforcement only have Bush’s account to confirm details.
Bush felt provoked by Harrington’s push to forget about Morgan. Morgan had tried to go on with the life of herself and her child, Bush wouldn’t let them leave him behind. That was “HIS” wife and his child. NO ONE was going to do anything for them or be in her bed, it wasn’t going to be his best friend, Harrington.
Bush said he snapped; it was too much for his darkness to handle. Bush picked up the .357 revolver and started shooting Harrington. They were in the den, Harrington got up. He didn’t pick up the gun they had and fired back, he turned away from his friend to flee the gunshots. The first would be in the front. Harrington managed to make it to the kitchen, Bush continued to fire into the back of his now former best friend. He kept shooting Harrington as he made it out to the front yard where he collapsed.
Bush wasn’t satisfied with just shooting his friend once in the front and five times in the back as he tried to flee. This turned from a flash of anger to revenge in less than a heartbeat. Bush hooked his friend, Billy, to his own truck and drug him around, while still dying from the gunshot wounds. He had become a mass of unrecognizable him.
Bush took a photograph of Harrington just minutes before he shot his friend, and nothing seemed amiss; minutes later, however, Bush shot and killed Harrington, then drug him like an animal around behind Harrington’s own truck.
Around 7:44 p.m. Harrington's mother, Kathy Harrington, tried to call Harrington's cell phone, Bush answered. Kathy Harrington had already been worried when her son told her he was going to pick up Bush from the hospital. A mother’s intuition screamed inside her head. Kathy’s heart had the ache of a mother who knew something was wrong.
Bush kept putting Mrs. Harrington off, probably because Harrington was already dead. Finally, she heard the crunching of leaves and gravel. A moment later Bush told her Billy couldn’t talk on the phone, that wasn’t capable of speaking to her or anyone else, then he hung up the phone.
Mrs. Harrington’s heart hammered in her ears as she called friends to go check on her baby boy. Sherrif’s office arrived out there with Mrs. Harrington’s friends, discovered Billy Harrington's body a field near his home. Billy was dumped like a carcass left for the vultures.
Bush took off in Harrington’s truck. Grady County Sherriff’s department was on it the moment his mother had given a description of his truck. The idea of this loyal friend shot and then drug to death in a most disrespectful manner, it sickened the deputies on scene.
Bush had one thought on his mind, when he stole Harrington’s truck. He wanted to get back at that Bitch, who’d just made Bush kill his best friend. This was all her fault. She let any man into her bed and just didn’t value the vows they took they day they got married. However, Morgan was still out, she would be a work for at least another hour. Bush knew this, by heart, having married her. This gave him time, on his already bloody hands.
Bush stopped at a liquor store to get beer. Then he headed to morgan’s to wait. When he arrived, it wasn’t hard to get in. He simply kicked in the secluded back door.
It didn’t take him long to finish the beer he’d brought with him. He knew Morgan kept commemorative liquor bottles in her room, old and unopened. This was a problem he could solve for his ex-wife. He staggered his way to the bedroom they had once shared with each other.
Bush paused in the hallway. He felt as though he were a broken man. His best friend had been brutally taken from him, and his wife was trying to leave him forever and was cheating on him with every man in town, including his own best friend. Now, Morgan was going to pay for all the hurt she had caused.
Staggering on down the hallway, Bush didn’t bother to turn any of the lights on in the house. He didn’t need to; he had lived there with his wife during the good years of their marriage. This was all before she left him and started cheating with others. She had taken their child, for all Bush knew, the whore could be doing it right in front of his own child.
As he drank, Bush laid down on the bed, one of the bottles in his hand. He sipped from it as Morgan made her way in the dark. She’d heard noises as soon as she’d gotten home.
Morgan had gotten the call before leaving work, Harrington had been murdered by his best friend, her ex-husband. Morgan knew it wouldn’t be long before he would come to see her.
Morgan moved through the darkness, she trembled harder and harder with each step. She could hear noises, long dead from the past of her marriage to the monster she’d come to know all too well. She didn’t understand how Harrington could forgive him so much and yet now he was dead.
In her heart, Morgan knew she was next. She wasn’t going to cower and wait. She wasn’t about to let him use their child like she’d seen on television. She would allow this to become a hostage situation.
Her hands found the walls, her fingertips trembled against the wall so hard she could have been a telegraph operator without the telegraph. Each finger shook of its own accord. She didn’t know if it was true fear, or anger. White hot anger filled her with the rage of a thousand suns. She’d seen a star explode on the PBS show NOVA, and she could feel it build in her with each step down the hallway. As she came closer to the open bedroom door, she felt her feet turn to molasses.
Morgan heard him breath. That heavy alcoholic breath and sigh so heavily, Morgan remembered from the marriage. A sour pit in her stomach formed as she rounded the door frame and plastered that automatic smile on her face, as if she were happy to see him.
The conversation felt like it droned on forever, drowning Morgan in her ex-husband’s thoughts. They discussed things at length, most of which were a moot point, no matter what. Morgan made him all kinds of promises as she slowly inched back out of the door frame. Her heart hammered out of her chest as the adrenaline rose up in fear, threatening to take over. Her fear was on His side, and she was not about to let either of them win. Finally, she told him she would be right back, she made a bee line for the front door, only to have Bush follow.
Bush was still talking and accusing as they got outside. Morgan got into her car but wasn’t quick enough to lock the doors. Bush got in with her on the passenger side. It didn’t take long for other notice Bush. With help from others, Morgan was able to get Bush out of her car. It was long after the authorities arrived.
Bush allowed them to take him, he chose not to go quietly and banged himself up a little in the process. He continued to cry and sobbed, he then confessed to the murder of his best friend, Billy Harrington. He had broken the commandment “love thy neighbor.” It was obvious he had not learned the lessons taught in The Good Book.
No one cared right at that moment how many fits the piece of garbage had throne; it wouldn’t make a difference. He had Murdered one of his own, and that wasn’t looked on kindly anywhere in Oklahoma.
After being taken into custody, Bush was taken to the Grady County Jail. This was his last taste of freedom, not only because he couldn’t help himself, but also, he refused mental health treatments. This wasn’t and still isn’t an uncommon occurrence, to refuse mental health treatment. Even for the ones who do, there are a limited number of beds available. Bush would have triaged it as harmful to others and himself. This would again have helped the people he hurt.
If a person tells you who he is, believe him. Don’t wait for him to Show you his true sides, the darker sides of a human psyche. Bush found his darkness easy to cling to and it came easier when he drank, which was often.
Bush would go to trial, but as he was nearly through, he requested to put in his plea. This changed things for the legal persons representing Bush and the Prosecutors. Bush would waive the rest of the trial for a guilty plea. It was to “save the family” from any more pain. But each of the members of the family was crying, heartbroken as they testified during the penalty phase of the proceedings.
Bush received a death sentence for his heinous crimes. His appeals on death row would be denied. He now waits on Oklahoma death row for a date that will mean the end of his life.

i sent him this email today, i know he doesn't read emails, what would you think if you got this? we broke up because of his anxiety and depression, he felt he couldn't be there for me anymore, we were great these last 6 months but trust me we were for a long time. i know be doesn't read his emails typically so i sent this... tell me ur thoughts if you stayed long enough to read it "from what i can remember you don't really read your emails maybe you will but if you don't that's okay, this email will exist in the world at least i still love you i still want to have summer with you and fall and winter i'll remember our anniversary 8 years this year i'll think of how we would've been in salem i was hoping that could've been our tradition we got what, three years out of it i think? the first year we went i had a terrible stomach ache oh my god that was bad i'll think of you this summer when i'm in maine at the restaurant i won't order the bacon cheese fries it's too much food for me and it'll just remind me of you i won't even finish attack on titan unless it's with you i can't, it was an us thing not a me thing i'll never even know what happens in naruto either, i won't bother looking it up, i hope we can watch it together someday i dont think i can see the new into the spider verse when it comes out, my favorite movies but only because of you and they're only my favorite when im watching them with you i cant watch la la land, you love it so much and i should've watched when you told me to, it's too late now i hated the movies but i loved it with you, and your brother i liked when he came with us it felt like family time we were family i packed up everything, all my funko pops are in the closet in a box with my tummy hurts sweater and my birthday card you got me last year and some other things, this poetry book you got me when we were still seniors in high school that i kept all these years, they're all in a box marked "you" i was going to give away my prom dress too but it just feels wrong i threw away my Sakura halloween costume, i'll never wear it again and it was the easiest thing to get rid of, i want to give you back the pretty orchid lego set, i think i will soon, you might find it outside your house one day. i wake up and its right there, reminding me of you every morning and night, like a knife in my chest, but i can't throw it away! i think it just needs a different home for now what would we have been like living together? i think you would've been eating a lot more fruits and veggies with me, i would've cut them up for us at the beginning of every week on our days off we would've rotted away in bed together, id try to do chores and you would try to stop me and get me to lay with you i would vacuum with my head phones on blasting taylor swift and maybe you'd clean the bathroom? i wouldn't mind doing it either, we would just have to split the chores some how maybe you'd make me an egg sandwich instead of me always making them for you your mom was eventually gonna teach me how to make tortillas i was hoping, i love her fresh tortillas i can't wear that gold chain she got me should i give it back to you also? i dont want to her hurt feelings (his cat) was gonna come with us too, i would've loved to live with him, i want a pet again, i miss my dog so much i love (his cat) so much, he would've been the bandaid on my broken heart caused from loosing her (my dog), i hope he lives forever we could've gotten another kitten, maybe a girl and i could name her
i thought maybe at our wedding we'd do different segments of your spanish and my white people music lol, i wanted to learn a song for you and sing it in front of everyone, i always pictured taking singing lessons for our wedding to sing you something beautiful and corny we could've had two first dances, one to a taylor swift song and one to a song of your choice i wanted to say some vows in spanish and embarrass myself in front of everyone to do it i never wanted a diamond engagement ring, maybe something green or purple, i told my mom that so she knows, she probably would've told you i know we weren't perfect but we were best friends we grew into amazing people together, our comfort level people would kill for you didnt judge me with all gross farts and burps you saw my body the way no one has and maybe no one will, i cant give myself to someone the way i did to you, my first love i wish i told you i loved you more, because i do, i can admit i was also unsure of marrying you, simply because we are so young still, but id be proud to be your wife, you think i wanted/needed to be with a girl, yes women are beautiful but so are you, you are the most beautiful you are beautiful inside and out, you always have been, your beautiful hair, i'm sorry for the time i bleached it and turned it green, i really thought i knew what i was doing!! i didn't .... maybe in another life we are high school sweethearts i know it's uncommon but isn't it just so sweet to think that we could've found the one at only 17 you broke my heart at 17, then came back and healed it again, you showed me what a man could be, how a man could take care of me, you also showed me how a man can crumble and fall apart, it's all normal and all apart of life, the ups and downs, it's normal, you can find yourself while still loving me, at least i was able to, i was able to grow and love myself by loving you, you helped my anxiety, my body imagine and my mindset we were so beautiful our time feels almost too short together most people wouldn't say 7 years is short but when a life time exists it is too short you sent me an email on valentine's day that reads "good evening! i’d like to inform you that i’ve been thinking about you all night, and hope that we can meet soon, and hope all is well!
love,
(his name) Professional Boyfriend Xoxo" maybe you'll want to be my professional boyfriend again, if not in this life maybe the next i always wanted to dance with you, i feel like we never really danced a lot because im shy, im sorry im shy can we dance in the rain together in the next life maybe can we make love in a car once? be a little risky, i'd be down i hope we can remember how i said i wouldn't want someone to propose to me at a taylor swift concert? that doesn't sound so bad now, being your wife doesn't sound bad at all, i would keep my last name but still i would have your child, maybe only one because it gives me anxiety but i could do it for you, again maybe in the next life or maybe we did in our last life together or maybe we could just be pet parents you can decide i'm just along for the ride can we go to texas to visit your cousins? tell them that i loved them, they are beautiful and so sweet, i wish i could've seen them again, they are so fun, tell those girls i'll miss them wendy's, starbucks, espresso martinis, downeast, tavern in the square, boston calling, maine, salem, the movies, cologne, me and u by cassie, book smart, 110 grill, pupusas there's no end to what reminds me of you because everything is you there's nothing with out you just emptiness if you come back i'll be here with open arms ready to make up the time we lost, we can start planning for the future right away, what's our next trip? europe? we'd have to save up a lot but i want to see italy, they have good gluten free food, we can make endless memories, i hope we didn't stop making memories memories i wish i had more of when you come back we'll make more there's memories i want to forget but i know i never will, you will always hold the biggest chunk of my heart and soul we can't be friends, because you're still the love of my life "i'll still see it, until i die, you're the loss of my life" xoxo your ex professional girlfriend"

As title says I have patellar tendinitis In my right knee and an undiagnosed left shoulder that pops out of socket often. I am young just graduated still only working part time, and having a hard time healing in both places. I have had a knee that locks up,aches,and cannot bend backward whatsoever for over a year but has been improving, and recently I threw my shoulder boxing. I want to take lifting seriously again but having a terrible time, my shoulder popped out twice today while hitting chest and back. I’m looking for any advice, with workouts,stretching,compression,supplements, even just call me idiot for not going to the doctor (I did my only option was PT and I’m not currently insured). I cannot take NSAIDs forever I’m worried about my stomach and liver, and kidneys what are my solutions? 

(Sorry for grammar and formatting this my first Reddit post and I’m on my phone)

Hey, I'm still slowly working on the next chapter of Only Predator and Prey but I wanted to work on something a bit different so here it is, I hope you enjoy. Criticism is more than welcome. This post was inspired, in part, by this. Thank you to SpacePaladin for creating the NoP universe.
Memory transcription subject: Evpa, Venlil Civilian
Date [standardised human time]: April 11, 2029
I pushed open the door to my apartment and stepped inside. I was completely exhausted. Nearly two and a half paws working straight had sapped all my energy and now all I wanted to do was go to sleep, however, something towards the back of the room drew me in, refuting my wish to sleep. A series of monitors, machines, and radio equipment crowded a desk leaning against the back wall, formed in a semi-circle around a keyboard and mouse in the centre. This collection of equipment had been my father’s pride and joy during his life, sometimes of greater importance to him than I was though I never really minded, much to my mother’s chagrin. After his passing, it, along with many other items he had collected over the years, were passed down to me. I had to sell most of them to keep afloat but this setup was something I refused to sell. It was of too much importance to both me and my father. I still remember the days I used to sit in his lap as he would teach me how to operate these devices, his voice full of excitement as he described the purpose of every knob, switch, button and such. I was a child then and didn’t quite understand it all, but over the years I managed to figure it all out to the point that I could reliably operate these devices and now, just like my father, it nearly consumed every moment of free time I had.
I threw myself into the chair in front of the desk and for a moment just stared at the black screen of the monitor, my brain seeming to take some time to process my next course of action. I knew this drill well, however, and once my brain finally willed my limbs to move, I set upon the devices with the grace of an automaton, flicking switches, pushing buttons and, slowly but surely, the machines whirred to life. This was perhaps not the most efficient method of operating this equipment but since it had worked for my father, I assumed it worked well enough. The screen before me flickered on and presented me with nothing, just as intended. I turned my attention to another screen to my left and began turning various knobs on the console, tuning the device to different frequencies as I searched for any possible signals I could pick up. On most days I found nothing but static, but sometimes, I would pick up communications from nearby ships or radio signals from passing exterminators and, on occasion, chatter from military vessels. To the average person this would seem like a waste of time and incredibly boring but to me it was exciting perusing through space for noise. It was hard to describe why I enjoyed it so much, perhaps it was merely nostalgia for my father? Or maybe the idea of listening to conversations I was clearly not supposed to be hearing pleases something in me? Or maybe it was the chance that I may find something truly exciting out there: A signal from an unknown world or something so alien I would not be able to comprehend it. Whatever the case, it was one of the few things I enjoyed in life which wasn’t really saying much considering most of my life was consumed by work.
After a few moments of fiddling with the device, I decided to leave it be for the time being as I was getting hungry and hadn’t eaten in a while. I got up and made my way to the small section of my apartment that was delegated to being a kitchen. Being as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t be asked to cook a full meal so I instead settled for a simple salad. I opened up my fridge and grabbed some leaves and vegetables to chuck in a bowl and then sat down to eat my feeble attempt at a meal. The apartment was almost dead quiet, the whirring and humming of the machines and the crunching of my salad were the only noises in this solemn space.
Suddenly, I was alerted to the sound of beeping coming from the living room. It had found something! I left my meal on the counter and near-sprinted into the room to inspect the find. I began fiddling with the machine and, within minutes, the signal was being processed. I switched on the audio output on the monitor in front of me to see if I could make out any chatter but all I received was blaring static so I swiftly turned it off. Seeing that there was little else to do for it and assuming it would take a while to download, I returned to the kitchen to finish off my dismal meal.
After putting my bowl and cutlery away, I returned to the main room to check on the progress of the signal. I flopped down into the chair and saw that it had already been downloaded. That was quick. Usually they would take much longer but, seeing as it meant I got to see what it was sooner, I wasn’t complaining. I transferred the signal to the computer screen in front of me to see what was on it and, as soon as I did so, my blood ran cold. Displayed on the monitor was a fleshy, flat face with two blue, piercing eyes staring at me. A part of me wanted to run, to scream, to hide, but my body remained completely frozen as I stared at this horrific visage before me. This predator had a vicious snarl plastered across its face and a large lump of flesh starting at between the eyes down to above its upper lip, a nose perhaps. I lurched forward and hit an arrow on my keyboard to move this image from my monitor only for it to be replaced by the image of another predator with that same snarl on its face. I mashed the arrow key, each press revealing another face, until I ended up on a black and white image of one of these predators. This one did not have that snarl present, but instead had a seemingly solemn expression on its face. I stared at its eyes which seemed partially sunken into its skull, it had a patch of fur covering the top and bottom of its face and it appeared to be wearing some sort of formal attire. I lingered on this image for a while, afraid of what the next one would be. This image at least made me feel a little less fear, although my emotions were still running high after that first one. Who would send this and for what reason? Was this some sort of prank? Or maybe… Just then, a horrifying thought went through my mind: it was the people in the images, or at least their species, that sent this signal! But then, who were they? My mind scrambled as I tried to recall any species that matched this description until I realised that I was an idiot. They had eyes facing forward, and there were only two known instances of predatory species with any semblance of intelligence: the Arxur, and Humans. But they were meant to be extinct! How could they have sent this signal?
With newfound curiosity, I decided against my better judgement to see what else was present in this message. After swiftly going through the last of the predator’s faces, I was met with a large body of alien script. Luckily, my monitor was equipped with a translator for text and so, within seconds, it was translated, allowing me to read it:
For centuries, Humanity has looked to the stars with increasing curiosity as to what may be up there and, as each decade passes, we learn more and more. One of the biggest questions was whether or not alien life existed and that, if it did, would it be intelligent? And so, Humanity has endeavoured to reach for the stars, exploring, watching, and listening for any sign of life. While we have so far been unsuccessful in this venture, we have sent offerings into the cosmos for anybody to find. In 1977, the Voyager 1 was launched into space and with it was the Golden Disk, a record containing images, sounds, music, and various other items which represent life on Earth. 30 years on, we celebrate this achievement with this: A Message From Earth. This message will be a collaborative effort by members of the public to curate another ‘Golden DIsc’ of Human culture. And so, I invite both participants and potential receivers to partake in this exchange of cultures across the cosmos. The images, messages, and sounds enclosed on this signal will be chosen based on how well we believe they represent Humanity and its diverse cultures. This message will take a little over two decades to reach its intended target and when it does, we hope whoever receives it responds in kind. And finally, to whoever does receive this message, we on Earth would love to hear from you and, perhaps even meet with you one day. But for now, we shall remain on Earth and keep listening out for a response. See you among the stars.
I stared in disbelief at what I had just read. They must have sent this out to make potential prey reveal themselves, right? But then this message implies that they haven’t invented advanced space travel and the fact that they estimate it to take quite some time to reach its destination suggests that that could not be the case. Maybe that was some predatory deception though? And what was this about ‘offerings’ and this ‘Golden Disc’? Maybe they assumed that life in the universe was also predatory? It would explain why those humans had snarls on their faces. But then this message made it seem like they wanted to make friendly contact with aliens, unless that was also part of the ruse? Every theory I made was easily contradicted by one thing or another until my brain began to ache. Perhaps if I looked through the rest of the messages it would start to make sense? I began to read through the other messages on this signal to see if I could make any sense of it all, but the more I read, the more confusing this all became. Another one of the message read:
In a universe so cold and empty, life is a miracle. We on Earth are lucky to have such diversity on this planet and I am grateful I was born on such a wonderful world. I sometimes wonder if there are planets just as wonderful elsewhere and if there are, will they have beings just as intelligent? If they do, will we ever meet them? Will we even know they exist? Or will they be long gone by the time we find them? There are so many potential reasons why we may never encounter any form of life whatsoever in this universe, but that won’t stop us from trying nonetheless. If anybody does receive this message, I hope that someday you may visit our beautiful plant and that we may visit yours. The universe is such a vast space that this may never be possible, but one can hope. If you do find this though, we’ll be waiting.
Wonderful? How can a world inhabited by predators be wonderful? Well, I suppose it's no longer inhabited by predators as they wiped themselves out, but still! And what do they mean by, ‘we’ll be waiting’ , do they expect us to just walk into their trap? I shook my head. These thoughts were getting me nowhere, I should just keep reading for now.
I read through more of these bodies of text, each containing more predatory deception saying how they would love to meet us and how they hope we respond to them, or philosophical ramblings, or life stories. It was all a ruse to trick anybody reading into thinking that they were friendly, it had to be. Eventually, I stumbled upon a message that made me pause briefly. It was different to previous ones in that it appeared to be in memory of someone. They care to remember their dead? My cynicism was abruptly halted as I properly began to read it:
I would like to dedicate this message to the memory of my father. He was born in Minnesota in 1967 and though he wasn’t in my life for as long as I would’ve liked, he was a great dad. I remember he used to take me out into the middle of fields at night and would point out constellations in the sky above as we lay in the grass, weathering the biting cold. In those moments though, I didn't care much for the weather, my attention was fully focused on those dazzling lights in the sky which he would tell me represented something. I didn’t really understand it at the time and if you asked me today I wouldn’t be able to identify a single constellation, but those memories were some of the best I ever made and some of best I have of him. He passed away a few years ago after battling with cancer for some time but I’m sure he would love to know that his memory is being transmitted across that sky that he and I used to gaze at on countless nights, and the fact that this message might even reach extraterrestrials would absolutely thrill him. I hope that whoever may receive this, you cherish those in your life, you never know when you may have to say goodbye.
I miss you dad.
I was dumbfounded by what I had just read but before I could react, a sudden wave of sadness struck me. Tears began to well in my eyes as I recalled memories of my own father. How could these predators have such similar experiences? They weren’t like me, right? Memories of his frail frame entered my mind, skin and bones laying helpless in a hospital bed. The doctors said there was little else they could do for him and so we could only watch as he deteriorated further until death finally snatched him away. I was only 19 then. But that wasn’t similar, I had wept when my father died! I bet that this predator just carried on with their day when they heard the news. Or… or… I cradled my head in my paws as this new revelation plagued my mind. Maybe they were like us? I sat there for a while as tears slid down my face and that dreadful message lingered on the monitor. I was too tired for this. That was it! I was simply tired! The predator’s messages had caught me in a weakened state! This triumphant revelation did not last long as another thought dawned on me. Was I the only person to receive this broadcast? This message may have been a genuine attempt to reach out to the universe and the only person who received it was someone who despised them without having met them. These were the last echoes of an extinct species and all I did was denounce them as evil predators. What did that say about me? I glanced back up at the message displayed, “I’m sorry.”, I muttered as I reached over to turn it off. I would go through the rest of this another day when I was less fatigued.
After powering down the last of the machines, I got up from my seat and finally headed off to bed. Flopping down into my sheets, I struggled to find sleep despite the long day I had had. As I stared up at my ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder: far above it was a blanket of distant stars and, amongst them, somewhere, was a small, blue marble so alone in the universe and now so quiet, and, on it, was a species of people like me who had tried to reach out to the stars, longing for friendship. They didn’t know that the friends they would find would despise their kind and so, perhaps it was for the best that they fell to their own devices. Despite this, and everything else I knew about predators, a part of me couldn’t help but think:
I wish I could’ve met you.