I remember that day as though it were only yesterday. My species, the rulers of a vast and mighty interstellar empire, had discovered a primitive species tucked away in a remote corner of our galaxy. Naturally, we were excited to discover them, for a new species on the galactic stage could potentially bring with them many exciting new developments to keep us all entertained for a few millennia.
Our survey ships, vessels of unparalleled stealth and subtlety, flocked to the single star system with its four gas giants, a boon for any developing species, and set up shop in orbit of their homeworld. We were all so eager to see what works of wondrous art and civility they had created, and instead we watched as a planet spanning war erupted. Entire nations were consumed, millions died within the first few weeks and we were left horrified by what we saw.
Yet by our own rules we were powerless to intervene, if it was their destiny to eradicate themselves, then that is what would happen. We expected this war to end in nuclear annihilation, for we had detected vast nuclear arsenals the moment we entered orbit of that glittering blue jewel in the dark.
Yet no such cataclysm came, instead, one by one tensions cooled, warriors dropped their primitive slug throwers and went home, seeking the comfort and peace of familiar and safe surroundings. A new government was formed, a unifying body that kept the peace for the next five hundred years to the best of its ability. Yet even then conflict still raged in the far flung places of the world, and we were left to wonder…
What would happen when they leave their world?
The question terrified us to such a degree that when it became clear they were making concerted efforts to leave their world and venture out into the stars, we panicked. A species as violent towards itself as they are would surely take one look at the galaxy and its many peoples and attempt to see them struck down. Some amongst the ruling body were of the mind that such a primitive and savage species was little more than animals that deserved to be put down.
Unfortunately, they were the most influential faction of our esteemed government. So when the vote was passed for the extermination of the species, the most the rest of us could try was to make it as quick and painless a death as possible. To be kind. But yet again, the most powerful of us decided that wasn’t good enough. They said that such savagery be met in kind, and so a terrible weapon was developed.
Fear and an overinflated sense of superiority drove us towards our ultimate shame.
The Affliction was released upon their homeworld, and any intrasolar outposts that we found were subsequently wiped from existence with lightning fast attacks from weapons of mass destruction. The affliction targeted everything from birth rates to skin growth, causing patches of necrosis to form externally and internally, all while heightening nerve responses. Our leaders wanted them to suffer for their savagery. While the powerful patted themselves on the back for their valiant defense of the galaxy from a potential threat, the rest of us were left to worry, to ponder our failings and hope against hope that we could be forgiven for our ineffectual protests against this course of action.
Another five hundred years passed and the galaxy forgot all about the now extinct species, focusing instead on their own problems and several other primitive races we had discovered. But something had not forgotten us, something had lurked in the darkness and waited till the perfect moment to strike.
At first the only knowledge we had of this entity was the brief contacts our sensor nets had with some strange anomaly. We shrugged it off as little more than a mere glitch, yet over time some of us began to see a pattern as the contacts began to linger for longer periods of time before vanishing.
It was far too late to do anything, as we would soon discover, as our outer colonies came under sudden attack from an unknown enemy. An unstoppable force that seemed to sweep over our defenses with ease. Yet we received no reports of the world being razed, instead the enemy was content to occupy the world and move on, keeping the civilian populace calm and cooperative.
Of course that didn’t mean we wouldn’t fight them, just because they were being civil towards our civilians didn’t make them any less our enemy. And so we mobilized, preparing our defenses as best we could and attempting to deny the enemy strategic resources as well. But as we soon learned, our forces were outmatched even in space.
I remember when I first saw them, having been assigned to a defense post on the planet Dingalea. A tropical resort world, with vast oceans and many pristine beaches. It was a tactically unsound planet to invade, yet this foe was clearly interested in all our worlds, not just the strategically important ones. We figured it was meant to force us to commit the bulk of our forces to liberation efforts, spreading our armies and fleets thin in an attempt to reclaim every planet.
I had taken position in a bunker on a cliff overlooking one of the more popular beaches when we heard a booming sound from the sky. Our eyes turned heavensward, and I beheld what appeared to be spears of metal rain from above. They crashed down into the oceans many yektra (miles) away, yet so massive they were that we all could easily see the detailing upon their exteriors.
From where I was stationed I could only see four of them, but as I would learn later, four was all they would need for the coming battle upon our beach. Granted we had set up defensive positions further inland, but the enemy seemed content to land out at sea which led us to assume that they were mostly aquatic based. How wrong we were.
An aperture opened wide upon each of the spears and from them water based vehicles emerged, elongated and rectangular in form, bouncing over the waves as they fanned out and made for shore. We watched and waited, my gripping hands clutching all the more firmly at my plasma pulse rifle. Heavy emplacements warmed up with a whine of charging power packs, the large turrets turning to face our foe. New vehicles joined the first models, these ones clearly armored assault vehicles of a type that was unfamiliar to us, as so much about our enemy was at the time. They kept a staggered and wide formation with the other vehicles, even as air superiority fighter craft started to fill the sky. I felt something twist in my thorax, a pit of fear threatening to swallow me whole.
As I lowered my eye to the scope of my rifle, I watched as the ring around its edge shifted from red to purple, indicating my target was in firing range. The call to open fire rang out from the fortifications around me and all twelve of the hells was visited upon our foe. Plasma and beams of energy lanced out from our lines, boiling the waters and leaving burn marks upon the metal hulls that approached. Artillery began to pound, hoping to inflict more destructive results upon the invaders.
They succeeded in scoring direct hits on a few of the craft, sending burning wreckage to the bottom of the sea, but the rest simply continued on, unfazed by the death and destruction around them.
The craft reached the beach and ramps descended and what we saw made us shiver in instinctual fear. They were tall, bipedal and heavily armored. What flesh we could spot from this distance was unnaturally white, they had no hair and no features upon their heads either. Yet they sported different body shapes, perhaps indicative of sex? It didn’t mattered, they were the enemy and they needed to be destroyed. Our weapons seemed to do very little to their armor, but any hits to exposed flesh did massive amounts of damage, sending the beings falling or flying into the water and sand, pale blue blood pouring from their wounds.
Then they started to fire back, their rounds weren’t energy based, purely kinetic and yet with the speeds they were flying they were clearly being launched by some sort of rail system. The rounds would strike and bury deep before exploding, heat and shrapnel working their deadly trade. Yet the enemy seemed more intent on forcing us to take cover than actually killing us, as became clear as they took cover in craters and behind resort walls. Then the armored vehicles made it to shore and they became the focus of our efforts. Their booming cannons and spitting rotary guns threatened to destroy bunkers and crew weapons alike. Even the aircraft swooped down to strike at us, dropping bombs and firing their dogfighting weapons as well before climbing back into the sky.
For every ten of the infantry or vehicles we destroyed, another thirty was soon behind them. So focused on simply surviving were we that we almost didn’t notice the newest threat. This one walked out of the sea itself, hulking armored forms that were bipedal like the infantry but not showing a single kepti (centimeters) of flesh. These behemoths strode slowly, ponderously across the beach, waving hands at the entrenched beings who would stand and form up with their larger kin. Almost immediately the incoming fire became more intense and precise, causing us to take cover far too often.
The order to pull back to the next line was given and we did so, just as the first of the behemoths burst through a barricade, the angular helmet it wore turning back and forth quickly. It did moved unnervingly fast, but not fast enough to dodge a shot from an anti-vehicle weapon. It staggered backwards, the shot burning through metal and flesh along one side of the helmet. Yet it did not go down, instead a clawed hand rose and grasped what remained of the melting armor and tore it free, revealing a face that’ll haunt me till my dying day.
It was a face of pale flesh, black fur atop their head and around their mouth and jaw. That mouth was twisted into an angry snarl, the one remaining eye burning a cold blue. Yet it was what was on the other side of their face that haunts me. Flesh had burned down to bone, yet there was no bone to be seen, just gleaming chrome. It leered at me, silver teeth clicking as it worked that jaw and began to advance.
Hours later, the planet was theirs. I suppose they wanted to show us that even in a fair fight we were horribly outclassed. That was a few weeks ago now I believe, they’ve just taken the homeworld and are preparing some sort of galaxy wide broadcast. I wonder what they’ll have to say about all this, will they condemn us all to death for one reason or another?
The screen flickers, the normal view of our governmental building coming into focus as one of these horrible monsters steps up to a podium, our leaders cowering behind them.
“People of the Milky Way. We are humanity, a species that knew not what awaited them outside the bounds of their home system. We were hopeful that when we ventured out into the black that we could have found friendship, instead we were nearly murdered in our cradle. Your leaders sentenced us to death out of fear, sentenced millions of children, both born and unborn to agonizing deaths. Your fear led you down a path of atrocities you were all too eager to visit upon a people that couldn’t defend themselves.” The human spoke, their voice rich and booming, met with a deafening silence by audiences on every planet.
“You thought us eradicated, all traces of our existence mere dust on the wind. But you failed. For you see we are a stubborn species and we are also spiteful, spite encourages adaptation. And adapt we did, for five hundred years we suffered your manufactured plague, till it became little more than a reminder of who we were to hate. Yet while many amongst us do hate you and with good reason, we are not here today to visit the same horrors upon your peoples. Instead, you will suffer the authority of another. Our authority. For the next five hundred years you will work to make amends for all you have done and when that time is up, we shall leave you be. For we are not the monsters you thought we were, nor are we the monsters you inadvertently tried to make us. We are humanity, and we will show your people a new and better way.”
The feed shut off and I could only sit back and sigh, resting my head upon the pillow of my hospital bed, as more of these humans surrounded me and began to treat my wounds. I was left to wonder about the future. I wondered at what humanity could show us over the next five hundred years.
And so I closed my eyes, and dreamt of the future.

i am very concerned about the many people who were born in the covenant and have left or want to leave the church and have to deal with family and friends who do not support your efforts to be yourself and find your own path. I feel your pain and know you are faced with hard choices. I saw a wonderful production of Madama Butterfly, live at the Met and I thought it personified the anguish that you go through. I wrote my feelings in the following verses.

IS IT BECAUSE?
It’s lodged in my throat!
I cough, hack, spit and it’s still there.
Is it because of the anguish I feel?
Is it because you all love me, but not as I am?
Is it because you never ask me the questions
You ask my siblings?
Is it because when I see your eyes, I know you pity me
Going to the lowest Kingdom with sinners,
Never to be seen again?
Is it because to be with my family, I must pretend,
Smile at hurtful jokes and comments?
Is it because I need unconditional love, not found there?
And I ask myself, how do I survive?
With them? Without them?
Swallowing my pride, dignity, beliefs,
My tears, shame, and hurt?
How do I get rid of this feeling stuck in my throat?
How do I let loose of my pain, anguish, hurt and still be nearby?
How do I keep from being reminded of what I used to believe?
How do I find what I need without the judgements?
I don’t know, but I must find a way!

As the world faded away into nothing but a dark void, Tom felt the only mildly familiar sensation of magic flowing like a gentle stream. It wasn’t much of a draw, but it was certainly noticeable.
“Right, best make this quick then,” he tried thinking to himself, feeling the flow peak as he did.
“Who is this? Make what quick?” an ethereal sounding female voice replied. It did sound a bit like how he remembered Joelina sounding. Though she did not exactly sound calm.
“Uhm… Hello? Anyone there?”
“Yes hello. Who is this? What must be done quick? Answer me at once!”
“It’s Tom… Is that you, Joelina?”
“Yes of course it is! Stupid dragons taking ages, I have questions for you! So many questiiioooonssss...”
“Yeah I figured that… Fire away I suppose.” Tom replied a little uncertainly as to just what he might be in for.
“Firstly! Did you read the letters?”
“I did yeah…”
“Disregard them, I have learned much since they were written! So much more yes, cursed blessed knowledge…”
“So you do know we have gone to space then?”
“What? No, I re-experienced the memory you had of the movie about the moon mission. It was evident on the second watching that it was trickery of the eye! Spaceflight is but a myth!”
“Riiight.”
“Then how have your kind visited space? And what of the gods above!? it was evident that the woman with the crystals was but a fraud!” Joelina explained with all the calm and restraint of a shoppingmall Karen
“Well the rockets to the moon, that did happen.” Tom attempted, doing his best to remain calm and diplomatic. “The movie you saw was probably a recreation… Tell me, did things go wrong on that trip but they made it home anyway?”
“Yes, do you know of what I speak? Ahr what am I proclaiming! of course you do it is your own memories, how could I forget.”
“Yea…, you watched a movie about Apollo 13 I think. Good movie, and that all happened too. Like for real happened”
“I see…” Joelina replied, sounding rather unstable. “And what of the gods?”
“We ain’t got any. Well not in space at least.”
“Impossible!”
“No, quite possible. Many still believe in gods though, but let’s not get into that too much. It’s a right old mess.”
“No, you must tell me what happened to the gods? Have they left you?”
“Well some think so, but no. I just think it all works a bit different for us. They might be a little more hands off.”
“But the churches… and these religious warriors you did battle with,” the inquisitor all but muttered to herself, sounding like she was struggling to put pieces together. “Do Jesus and Islam fight for power then? no no, they would have long since lost the battles to the ancient gods of war the teachers spoke of… though why they were always naked eludes me yeeees…”
“No, again we don’t really have gods just floating around... Could we please talk about something else? Or is that all you wanted to know?” Tom tried, hoping he really didn’t have to dive deeper into that particular subject.
“No no don’t you dare cut me off! I have seen what you talked of, nuclear fire and missiles, ships of the oceans and planes soaring in the skies. But is it not all fake? Surely it must be! It must be? It must be…”
“I don’t know what you saw… but we have ships sailing around. If you’ve ever seen flying ships like you have here then that’s fake I can assure you of that. We do have airships, but they look more like really big long balloons.”
“But we could make such vessels, or someone could from times past. If you can visit the moon then surely you can make a ship for the skies!”
“No no, we ain’t got grav oil. Or dragon essence as I guess it’s called. That means no anti gravity, and that means weight is a very very big problem for anything you wanna make fly. Planes and helicopters are how we fly. Remember how I flew to Afghanistan on a big ass plane? Or when I learned to parachute later?”
“What is parachute? is it the ham from your times doing, vacationing? what has dried meat products got to do with flying machines of battle!”
“Wooo easy now easy. I guess you didn’t get that far yet. Uhm. It’s a cloth kite you dangle from and then glide to the ground. Very good fun.”
“A cloth kite used to fly?... such strange inventions. Wait was there not a movie of with something of that nature? yeeee… there was a song. I liked that song… something something brains upon his chute. Yeesss…”
“Yeah… You’ll know it when you see it. I have one actually.” Tom clarified trying not to get too weirded out.
“You must demonstrate on a suitable occasion.”
“Yeah… I do have a question too though,” Tom replied, letting silence reign for a short time. “...Your last letter was in Danish.”
“Oh, uhm yes. I- I was having some difficulty separating what was real and what was not… I still am. Do not tell Glazz, she musten know the truth yet. She seeks to limit my excursions.”
“You’ve ended up like I did, have you?”
“No no no, the effects do indeed recede as expected, everything is in good order… But I had to know more. So so much moooore.”
“Maybe you should cool it a bit. You never know when a brain snaps. Or how,” Tom tried, confident his advice would be ignored.
“There is not time!”
“And why is that? How is it going in our beloved Inquisition?”
“Mind your tongue, human! Things are progressing, but so are our enemies. Infiltrators have been caught, traitors within our ranks are making their moves. The reemergence of Rashan, attacks on mines, keeps and a daring heist attempt at a Royal Guard fortress! The game is afoot, we cannot delay.”
“You can’t overreach yourself either. Weren’t you supposed to be winning over the rest of the inquisition right about now? Can’t do that as a gibbering mess.”
There was silence for a while more after that. “Glazz sent you a letter? What did it say?! You may not keep secrets from me- wait not… I should confiscate her arm… she cannot write with her left. Yes far better plan, avoid upsetting him. And fill her pen with invisible ink. Yes very good.”
“No, it’s just obvious to any idiot. But what about winter, won’t things slow down?”
“They should, yet as autumn progresses it has only been picking up. I hope they too are running out of time… But time for what? I must know what they are planning. They might be behind schedule. But what SCHEDULE! sorry…”
“Well you’re not gonna find the answer to that in my memories, now are you?”
“You were sent by someone. You are here for a purpose. I must know this purpose. It will help me understand. The puzzle is large and much of the box kept from me.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m here to help you guys get in gear. That’s a decades to centuries long sorta problem, not a couple of years. Sounds like this war will be in the couple of years category.”
“Then why now? Why did you arrive now?!”
“Shitty luck? Sounds like 10 years ago would have been a lot better… Oh on that note, did you hear? We found something down below.”
“No, Paulin would have told me.”Joelina dismissed, he could almost feel her turning her snout up and away from him.
“Well we opened the vault like 3 days ago,” Tom replied, quite surprised Paulin hadn’t said anything. “Wait yeah she can send you messages, no? She sent the message about what we wanted to buy too, didn’t she?... How did she do that by the way? Why didn’t you just have her ask me questions?”
“That is not for you to know, and this is not for her.”
“Really? More secrets still? Come on, tell me or I’ll let you think flying whales exist.”
“I know those are not real. If they were, you would have harvested them long ago! likely for some deranged snack… or facial decoration.”
“True, but you get the idea,” Tom persisted, feeling like this was something worth pushing for. Why would Paulin not have let her precious Joelina know?
“Very well. This does not leave your mind… In the name of, what was it called… camaraderie. Paulin is in possession of joined paper. Messages may be written down and read by anyone with similarly joined paper. Unsecured. Originally believed to be fore love letters… dastardly studs and wenches using perfectly good magic for such trivialness… simply tie the message to a rock and throw it though the window. Most peasants cannot even afford glass” Joelina trailed off, seemingly zoning out once more.
“You have magical paper that can relay written information… and you don’t fucking use it!?” Tom explaimed, not quite believing what he was hearing.
“No, we do not know how to make freshly bonded paper… only more linked to all other paper in existence…” Joelina agreed. He could almost feel her looking at the floor in shame. “But it is not as if you are infallible, why did you not bring one of these radios?”
“I uhm…”
“Why didn’t you?!”
“I forgot,” Tom admitted, thinking back to his packing days. Of all the things that could have proven useful, that one might have been his biggest blunder.
“For the love of all that is holy! You are our saviour?!” Joelina scolded, understandably so, but still.
“Hey I never claimed to be smart!”
“I have lived your dreams. That is a lie! You very much claim to be smart!”
“Fuck off, I know you are just a scared little insecure girl.”
“She died 30 years ago!”
“Well I haven’t gotten to that bit yet!”
“What in the devils do you mean?” Joelina questioned calming right down in a fraction of a second.
“I’ve only had like three proper dreams about you… wait no, not like that,” Tom blurted out as it clicked just how wrong that sounded. Joelina didn’t seem to care in the slightest though.
“Three? That is it!?” going right back to outrage.
“Yeah… Wait, how many have you had?” Tom questioned. He rather wanted to know just how much she might know about him in addition to the memories she had already picked through when inside his head.
“Several a day!” the inquisitor exclaimed in reply.
“Okay, I can see how that would drive someone a bit mad.”
“I am not going mad!”
“Did Glazz say the same thing?” Tom questioned, quite certain he was striking a nerve.
There was no reply for quite some time, Tom feeling the headache growing as things grew tranquil once more. He could feel his breath. It was rapid, and his heart was pounding. He probably shouldn’t do this for much longer. Thus he endeavored to break the silence.
“You probably should listen to her you know.”
“No! These matters are above her station!”
“Hasn’t she been in the Inquisition longer than you?”
“She has yes. But she is no inquisitor. She is a body guard.”
“Seems like she is a wee bit more than that,” Tom pushed on. He didn’t yet know how those two came to stick together, but it was clear they had been working together for decades by now. All the way since she was assigned to Harvik
“Mind your own matters, human.”
“Very well, don’t think I can keep this up anyway.”
“We have barely been chatting! Where do the dogs come from?!”
“Selective breeding for thousands of years. But I’m gonna go. Take a break, do what Glazz says… even if Jacky hates her.”
Yet more silence followed that, though it was brief and Joelina was the first to speak again.
“Fine! In the interest of cooperation I shall let you rest. Wear the earring at all times, I shall be contacting you again soon.”
“I think I’m gonna be the judge of that. I’ll put it on when I feel like it.”
“You will do as I say!”
“You need a nap and a bit to calm down. I’ll give you three days. Around noon. See yah… How do I get this thing off?”
“I’m not telling you,” Joelina grumped like a little girl. She really didn’t seem quite like herself at all today. She had been the spitting image of restraint and arrogance before. The arrogance was still there, but the restraint had certainly gone.
“Come on, do I just try to cut off the magic or is that a bad idea?”
“If you answer a question I might answer.”
“Right then… Gimme gimme gimme aaaa-”
“JUST CUT IT! Farewell!” she called out loud enough Tom’s head pulsed and then there was blissful silence once more.
“Hehe. That did the trick, right concentrate on that funny feeling aaan-”
__________________________________________________________________________________
After dinner had been rounded up, Dakota had given a brief address as to some of the news received. There wasn’t much that hadn’t already made the rounds at the tables during the dinner itself. The war had been expanding, recruitment had started in full in the cities, and if not for the rather special situation at Bizmati they could have expected their banners to get called by spring.
Rumors had it that the kingdom was preparing itself for counterstrikes the following spring, which meant training through the winter for many volunteers.
“And a lot of not so volunteers,” Fengi muttered as Dakota carried on with the address.
“You can say that twice. At least the street rats might get something to eat and a place to sleep,” Tirox the trader escort added.
“I suppose that is true. Not a bad deal in winter time… I might even have taken it.”
“But we must instead keep our minds on our home,” Dakota carried on, talking to the whole hall. “There can be no mistake, we will be a target. We will be ready. They are getting bolder by the day it seems. It is not impossible they may attempt to take our keep before the winter comes. Or perhaps they will be waiting for spring. It is equally clear their forces are spread thin. We will weather such assaults, I have no doubt. But we must keep training. We must keep vigil. We cannot afford to be surprised or outmatched. I know you will all do your best. And tonight, we have no less than 4 dragons here. So breathe easy, have your snacks and your drinks. If the weather holds soon we will be finished with the warehouse and then we may make final preparations for winter. It is sure to be an interesting one for once.”
The hall replied with a half-discordant cheer, not overly enthusiastic unlike what Dakota had likely envisioned. The talk of them possibly getting attacked even before the snow came wasn’t really that encouraging. But Dakota tended to speak her mind, and she was probably right. Bizmati keep would be a damn tough nut to crack. And to Dakota’s credit she did seem to recognize she hadn’t really managed to rile them up.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she tried again in a slightly more humorous tone. “Eat, drink, and have fun! And put those tables together, don’t want you brooding in your corners.”
That did get a bit more of a reaction, as well as some good humored chuckles. People started getting up and set about moving the tables closer together.
It was a little rude to split up their guests in the same way as they normally did. Saph carried one of the benches over to the new spot, glancing around for any sign of Maiko, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
Feeling a little miffed, she sat down with the others as Ray came back with one of the small kegs of cider looking very excited. “We should have a taste, right?”
“Oh yes please!” Pho called out, Essy giving her a slight slap on the wrist.
“This one is only for those who paid for it. You will have to do with whatever you bought. Or the ale I’m sure they intend to serve.”
“Aww man. Not even a sip?”
“Okay, maybe a sip,” Essy relented. “Oh, I should get Koko his gift.”
“You got him a gift?” Saph questioned with mirth in her voice.
“Of course, that is what people do for each other… you did get Maiko something, right?”
Saph felt her expression slip a little as she prepared to disappoint their chief people person. “No, not really…”
“All that money and you didn’t get him shit? That’s cold girl,” Pho laughed, clearly finding it hilarious.
“Oh shut up, not as if I got something for Unkai either,” Fengi added, springing to Sapphire’s defence, though it seemed like the delivery had Fengi second guessing herself as well.
Esmeralda did look a little saddened by the news, but she was far too nice to say anything. Tirox however had no such filter.
“Oh don’t worry about it, just gotta go with a different sort of gift.” The diminutive guard laughed heartily at his joke. Udanti found it quite funny as well, and Pho certainly loved it. Bo just shook her head a little and went back to a small puzzle of some sort she had been working on, on and off, for most of the dinner by now.
“So uhm… One mug each?” Ray questioned, having been left hanging at the keg.
“Oh yes sorry, just the one, this stuff is expensive,” Saph replied, holding out her mug, Ray pushing it back down.
“One moment.” And she produced a wooden mallet and one of the metal taps. It looked like one of Raulf’s, so it was probably old as faded dragonscales.
Ray gingerly placed it against the cork and raised the mallet as the table fell silent in anticipation.
With a whack the tap went in clean with hardly a drop spilled, and Ray breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Right there we go.”
There was a quick round of cheers from the table, and Ray started pouring servings.
“Oh got yours open, have you?” the voice of Balethon came as the guard came walking up to the table, mug in hand and lizard on shoulder. “You all know we are gonna have to work out who got the better stuff, right?”
“Oh does it always have to be a competition with you, Balethon?” Saph questioned. She had just wanted to enjoy the cider.
“Look who is talking… And yeah of course we do! Just think of the bragging rights.”
Ray didn’t look too thrilled, nor did any of the girls who had actually paid for the keg. The rest of the table seemed to think it was a brilliant idea, even as Balethon’s voice carried and heads started to turn as people started to mingle between the now closely together tables.
“I’ll be the independent adjudicator!” Tirox declared, not receiving much attention as the full mugs started to get passed around. “Oh come on. I’ll be fair!”
“Shut it pipsqueak, you’ll end up taking 10 rounds of tastings before you make up your mind,” Udanti scolded, though in good humor.
“I might…” the guy relented, looking to Balethon. “Ey, by the way. Did you teach the brainlet any tricks?”
“Sure, Skitters can do a few things.”
“Aside from chasing the food?”
“You know what I think he might yeah,” Balethon replied sarcastically, gently tapping the static lizard twice on the head. The lizard didn’t do much save skitter about on his shoulder to face Balethon’s head, one eye pointing in whichever direction.
‘That thing just looks so dumb,’ Saph thought to herself as Ray handed her a mug. “Oh thank you.”
“Okay, Skitters. Up,” Balethon went, raising a claw into the air as if he wanted the lizard to jump. Or perhaps stand up. “Up… come on.”
There was no reaction from the lizard aside from it jerking to the left a bit, possibly having spotted a fly or something.
“Weeeell obedience might need some work,” Udanti chuckled. “Have you tried with some food in your hand?”
“Sure, then he just tries to eat the hand. Come on, Skitters. Up!” Balethon tried again, doing the gesture once more. And this time the little lizard jumped into the air. The little legs stretched out, taking its pitiful excuse for wings with it, and it half-fell half-glided to the floor where it hit with all the grace of a 6 year old on his first lesson. The slightly fat lizard bounced once, then rolled over twice before coming to a stop, looking around confused.
“Aaayyy! That’s a good boi,” Balethon went, going to pick it up again before someone stepped on it or it ran off under the tables. “And now you get a treat.” True to his word Skitters was fed a small piece of something or other which it seemed quite happy to snap up.
Fengi leaned in to whisper to Saph. “Was that the trick or did it just get sick of staying there?”
“I have no idea,” Saph replied, holding up her mug. “Cheers though.”
“Cheers,” Fengi replied as they clinked mugs.
“Oh hang on now, wait for me,” Essy protested as Ray finished pouring her mug and started on her own, looking to the girls as she questioned “Oh, also what about Jacky? Should we wait for her?”
“Who knows how long that will take?” Fengi replied, holding her mug impatiently.
“I’m sure she won’t mind. She is with Tom. We’ll let him have a mug as well,” Essy added with a reassuring nod, looking up to the high table. “Oh but we are missing Lin!”
“Oh right yeah she paid too… I can’t remember, did Edita chip in?”
“I don’t think so,” Sapphire replied, shaking her head as Essy got up to go fetch Linkosta. Balethon decided to take her place, a big grin on his face.
“So what else is going on over here?”
“Oh not much, hellooo little guy,” Pho went, trying to give skitters a scritching. In exchange he tried to eat her finger. “Oh… I mean I guess it doesn’t hurt.”
“Oh yeah, he can’t hurt a fly… well he can, but nothing more.”
“Shame he won’t get any bigger either,” Udanti added, nodding sagely. “Would have made a good rat hunter.”
“Nah… toe hunter though. Also where is the ale at?”
“Oh Raulf and Wiperna are getting ale and some of the bubble beer.”
“What is bubble beer?” Udanti questioned, tilting her head.
“Oh you’ll love it,” Saph interjected, waiting patiently as she saw Essy and Linkosta returning to the table out of the corner of her eye. “It’s an ale but it’s all fizzy.”
“Riiight… I’ve heard of fizzy beers before.”
“Oh yes, but this one is so much more fizzy.”
“It’s light and almost springlike.”
“Light ale? You mean for kids?”
“No no no. Just trust us it’s good.”
“Right right, I trust you,” the archer replied, looking to Essy and Linkosta, who seemed to be looking for a place to sit. “Should we not just put two end to end rather than this scrunching up business?”
“Yeah we should… Right get the craftsman table over here then. We don’t wanna have to smell the guards,” Saph called out, holding up her mug.
“Hey! That was uncalled for,” Balethon protested as Ray passed a mug to Linkosta. The girls all raised their mugs and had a sip, not willing to wait any longer. They all smacked their chops a little, looking down at the golden liquid. It was slightly fizzy too… and it tasted like the brew of the gods themselves. Ray was looking at them all visibly tense with anticipation and perhaps a twinge of fear.
“Ray… You have not disappointed,” Saph declared, nodding her approval, a smile creeping onto her face once more.
“Oh this is the best drink I think I’ve ever had,” Fengi added, taking another gentle sip.
Ray looked visibly relieved, her expression changing to one of ecstasy as she too took a sip herself. “Oh it’s even better than I remember. I’m glad you liked it.”
“Like it?! I love it!” Fengi cheers, Essy giving an appreciative nod to Ray before looking to Lin.
“Sooo?”
“It’s very good… Do you think we could try and cool it down a little? Imagine this cold.”
“It is often served cold, yes,” Ray confirmed, nodding her assent.
“I’ll go get the powder!” Saph called out, getting up. “I have got to try that.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
The strange ethereal world that had seemed so all-consuming started to quickly fade. Holes grew as light and reality started seeping in, sounds and noise starting to build around him. “Oom-Tom… Tom, are you okay?” came the familiar voice of Jacky as his eyes shot open and he blinked a few times as he returned to reality proper.
“Yeah yeah, I’m here… That is trippy, but hey, I think it worked.”
“How many fingers?” Jacky questioned, holding up her hand.
“4. Clear as day.”
“Pheeew. Okay look around, anything strange?”
Tom obeyed, sitting up a bit straighter and glancing about the room. “Nnnnn, nope all good. Just like last time I used one of these.”
“Right, good. Now what did she say?”
“Oh a bunch of stuff… mostly we chatted a bit about how she’s going a touch mad. Even Glazz thinks she’s falling apart at the seams apparently. She was also not happy I wanted a break.”
“Oh don’t tell me you have to do this every day from now on?”
“I said she had 3 days to get ready to try again. Hopefully she’ll have her case worked out by then.”
“Here’s to hoping… also how is your head? Does it hurt?”
“A bit, it’ll go away I’m sure.”
“Right,” Jacky replied, looking at him skeptically. “If it gets worse, tell me. But dinner was served a while ago I think. And I’m hungry.”
“Me too, let’s go.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
Well then, Joelina got her chat. She seems fine... I am sure she will continue to be a steadfast ally, within the walls of the inquisition for many weeks to co- I mean years, definetly years.
As always I hope you enjoyed the chapter, if not you know who to blame. I promise I won't cry to much if you tell me what was wrong... I promise.
Not really any news, other than fuck me I'm a busy boi, luckily I found the time to keep up with the writing yet, hopefully things will quet down soon so I can get back to begin a bit further ahead.
Untill next time, take care
Wiki and Art Gallery If you can't remember who someone is, want to read any of the side stories of fanfiction, or you just wanna watch some of the cool art that's been made for the story. Patreon If you want to help get more cool shit made consider joining the Patreon, you also get chapters two weeks ahead of time. HoH Subreddit if you want more stories from the HoH universe or are interested in writing something for this funny little world. Discord if you wanna have a chat about the story or just hang out First Previous

Hi everyone,
Me (foster caregiver) and my cat coordinator have tried our best to help this 1 year old rescue for over a month.
We tried everything to help this cat. We are so stumped at this point but we are not giving up on him. He is so loving and very social. He just would not eat enough on his own and get skinner and skinner every day. We think he wants to survive and we hope to help him.
Any advice is greatly appreciated. —————————————————-
• Species: Feline
• Age: 1 year old
• Sex/Neuter status: Male/Fixed
• Breed: Domestic Long Hair
• Body weight: 6.5lbs (04/15/24)
• History: Hoarding with other cats. Rescued and fixed later.
• Duration: 04/09/2024 - Now
• Your general location: USA DC metro area
04/09 – 【Symptoms】Soft Stool
04/10 – 04/14 -【Symptoms】Watery Stool & Vomiting with yellowish stuff. Show interest and wait for food but eat very little or none. Drinking a lot. Crying a lot. Hiding most of the day. Less energetic but still loving and seeks affection.
-【Treatments】Add Digestive Supplements to food and water. (Proviable DC & HomeoPet). No improvement.
04/15 –【Symptoms】Remains the same. No vomiting

• 【Treatments】First Clinic Visit. Got fluids and Anti-nausea. Given Hill’s Digestive Care i/d food and Giardia treatment. Weighted 6.5lbs

04/16
– 【Symptoms】Remains the same. The body temperature was normal.
-【Treatments】Syringe feeding (5ml liquid food mixed with Proviable DC and Giardia medicine)
04/17
-【Symptoms】Remains the same.
-【Treatments】Syringe feeding 15ml liquid food(5ml each * 3 times) during the night.
04/18
-【Symptoms】Remains the same.
-【Treatments】Vet visit for Bloodwork and Fecal test. Bloodwork is all good. Fecal is clear and is also negative for panleukopenia. Found some gingivitis but not terrible. The vet gave him some mirtazapine and Hill’s i/d into his mouth. No food only water as for the X-ray the next day.
04/19 - 【Symptoms】Seemed feeling better as he came out to greet people and showed interest in food in the morning before going to the vet. - 【Treatments】X-Ray found no blockage but full of gas and air and still won’t eat on his own. Put a feeding tube in. The rescue coordinator took him home for better care from this point.
04/20-04/20 - 【Symptoms】A bit of solid poop. Threw up a bunch of liquid on 04/21 night. Still not eating and just crying. -【Treatments】Tube feeding. Went back to the vet on 04/20. Scheduled for an ultrasound.
04/22 -【Symptoms】Crying and trying to escape from the playpen. - 【Treatments】Started eating a little bit dry food on his own in the evening + Tube feeding.
04/24 -【Symptoms】The cat is eating a bit of dry food on his own but not enough to survive yet. -【Treatments】Ultrasound showed all is normal. Tube feeding for another week.
04/28 - 【Symptoms】The cat is eating a bit of dry food on his own but not enough to survive yet. Enjoys the company with other cats. Poops have been fluctuating between nice solid poop and liquid again. -【Treatments】Tried to give him metronidazole but when the coordinator squirted it in his mouth he started foaming and spitting it all out. ”He was fine with it when I was injecting it directly into tube. I think if he was allergic putting it in tube would have had a much more serious reaction. He seems to not be able to tolerate any sort of liquid orally except for the water. It’s very strange. Even when I tried pulling Churu in his mouth he started foaming and trying to spit it out.” – Coordinator
———————————————
5/12 My coordinator is thinking about take him to see cat whisperer. Besides that, here is the most recent information about this cat from her:
He hasn’t has the tube for a little while. They took it out because he was eating on his own and pooping solid but now he is back to only eating little bites here and there and he cries a lot. He is very alert and friendly so I don’t get it. I cuddled him for a while last night just talking to him, hoping it would help him but nothing seems to work. He is just getting skinnier and skinnier. I feel like it’s something psychological because they didn’t find anything wrong with him but his little body is not going to last much longer. When I try to squirt anything in his mouth he gags like it hurts or burns. I don’t want to give up on him but I am stumped. He is very social and loving too.

Hello everyone.
As my title said, Dad has ALS (not sure which kind, but it affects his limbs and trunk, but other than some mild swallowing issues he seems pretty good above the neck) and because he’s a veteran the VA has approved and is currently renovating our home to make it better suited for him to be cared for at home.
Since he was insistent that he would NOT go to a care facility during the reno (long story) we instead set him up in his studio (think of it like an ADU) and by all metrics it’s working out ok. We have a care person coming in once a week to help with thorough bed baths and other hygiene things, and we are capable in helping him with his toilet needs etc. Dad seems to enjoy his “bachelor pad” and has all his basic needs and comforts met.
My question is more how can we keep him from feeling too isolated while this is happening? We do transfer him to his power chair so he can be outside and see parts of the renovation weather permitting, but I know that whole thing wears him out mentally and physically. I spend my nights in the same room as him so I can be there if he needs anything but I can’t be next to him 24/7 (I can’t handle the news he watches and he gets testy if he senses me “hovering”) his grandchildren live on this property too, and I know he misses interacting with them, but grandpa being in the studio is weird for them and they get tongue tied when they visit. (They are all under 10 years old and while they understand that grandpa is “hurt” and can’t play with them like he used to I think his hospital bed scares them)
The renovation will last for at least a month, and while I’m serving as his personal concierge I don’t want him feeling like he’s being separated from the family. Has anyone gone through something like this? I came into this pretty blind and ignorant as I don’t live here with them usually and I had been lead to believe his situation wasn’t so severe as it seems to be. I just want him to have some cognitive stimulation and a sense of family during the construction. He also is really struggling with feeling like a burden to all of us which I can only reassure him that he ISN’T a burden and we are all doing this because we love him and want him to be as comfortable in his own home as possible.
I hope this was cogent enough I confess as a disabled person myself this has been an adjustment for me and I’m a little fried.

I hear the birds. I hear the birds whistle and tweet; a romanticised conversation that no one can understand, but I hear it. The leaves rustle as the gentle wind brushes through them, stroking them one by one; skipping through them like a child. I take a deep breath, (in… out…) I am ready, I am prepared, I’ve been ready- I’m listening.
I see the colourful petals kissed by the essence of spring as it twirls around the globe. The bright green of the leaves, an evolutionary decision, yet somehow beautiful. The clouds are a warm pink, it’s not quite sunset but the sun is slowly lowering to the ground. I watch it fall, we all watch it fall.
It’s not quite dark. I like the dark; I love the peace of it all, I love the silence. People aren’t scared of the dark, no one is scared of the lights going out, no one is scared of being alone in the dark, it’s not the shadows that scare them, its what’s making the shadows.
I’m not scared of the dark, never have been; never will be. I’m not scared of the dark.
I’m scared because I know I’m not alone.
When we turn off the lights at night we can sleep in peace knowing there is nothing to fear, nothing can hurt us under our own roof. I don’t sleep, I don’t turn off the lights, I have something to fear, something can hurt me. I can feel it when it starts to go dark, the shadows that haunt me; the shadows that I fear. I know someone’s there- something’s there. I know because I’ve emptied my room four times.
The shadows come back.
They always come back.
I’ve screamed, yelled, called the police, told everyone I know… but, no one can help. Everyone thinks I’m crazy, everyone has left.
I sit here alone, on the floor, lights on, scared night after night. I’m scared to breathe, move, swallow. I don’t know what it is, who it is, what they want- are you a stalker? Did I hurt you? Am I just your next victim?
So tonight I’m ready, I’m ready for whatever’s there; I can’t take another second of this hell. Maybe I’ll go mad. Maybe I’ve gone mad. Maybe there’s nothing there.
No.
There’s something there.
So tonight when the shadows rise I’ll be waiting, listening, watching; waiting for the monster. Children think monsters are big creatures, blue or purple and covered in spikes. I know the monsters are just like me. I know the monsters are people. People are more dangerous.
So tonight when you go to sleep ask yourself, are you really alone? Are the monsters real? We don’t trust children when they say the monsters are under the bed. We soothe them back to sleep and remind them that it’s just a bad dream- a nightmare. We don’t give them enough credit, at least they have the sense to ask the age old question.
Are we ever really alone?

I'm a convicted sex offender(possession of cp). This is a throwaway account for multiple reasons, but mainly I am posting here to take questions on things and to educate people on various things, seeing the clues to see the symptoms of depression, abuse and so on.
So a little background on what led me to where I am.
A lot of my life is a fog, mainly due to a lot of abuse and developing the forgetfulness as a defense. You see, when I was extremely young, I was sexually abused by a man. This trauma in and of itself began the defense mechanism. Im still not sure, im working in therapy to discover more and uncover more of what happened.
Anyway, moving forward, my father and stepmother would do drugs in front of me, smoke a lot and argue fiercely to the point of destroying things, throwing ashtrays and so on.
My parents would use me against the other. Because of my mother, I didnt even call my dad anything other than his name until I was 6. This is the same woman that bullied me into my 20's, calling me names, belting us kids, usually on the back of our thighs, and so on.
Its not to say that I didnt also have decent time as a child. I got toys and games and clothes, same as my siblings. But I dont think my mother was emotionally there, she still does things that feel like a stab in the back.
Throughout childhood, I was bullied by just about everyone, due to the emotional issues I was given growing up by my parents, so I didnt know how to behave. Then after displaying such, im told I was taken to McDonalds by my mother, like its some reward to try and make me be behave better, but really reinforces being terrible.
Apparently sexual things were ever on my mind from an early age as I and a cousin played show and tell and touched at young ages, but nothing else developed. An older cousin had me suck her nipples when I wasnt even a teenager.
I was a bundle of bad decisions up until high school, when I began to mellow out emotionally. Still bullied but calmer. I began to develop longer friendships with those my age and date somewhat. My first sexual relationship was with a girl who cheated on me with a friend, claiming that, at a party, she got high from secondhand weed smoke and made that bad decision, but being an oversexed teen, I forgave to get sex.
It was during these years that the internet became much more of a thing in my life, looking at porn a lot, usually early in the morning before school and before anyone got up.
You see, we had one computer in the house and so in middle school, I began to get up at about 3am, we went to bed at 9pm in our house, and so I would set a clock and get up.
During these hours, i would look at porn, sex stories, roleplay sexual things with adults, after I developed my writing skill...Being oversexed and now able to have a place to put it on display, I roleplayed from 13 years old and older and plenty of adults knew I was a young teen and went along with it.
It didnt take me until many years later that id come to realize I wanted the attention because I wasnt getting it anywhere else. I equated sex with love. If someone loved me, they'd do sexual things with me in one form or the other.
I met a girl and started dating her out of high school, basically because she was dtf. I moved in with her when I was still in high school because my mother made living with her miserable to my high school brain, plus all she ever did was bully me and just be a hateful person, which only seemed to somewhat change after prison.
This was a mistake on my part. I had to work fastfood, but due to unresolved issues, I quit or was fired from a few different jobs and was forced to stay with my father for a bit until I resolved to go to college. It was too far away for me to keep good grades and dropped out. I did this twice more, even at colleges that were closer.
We were together for a decade and she cheated on me, I cheated on her as revenge. Unhealthy. She was just as bad as my mother by the end but she ran off and got married and pregnant, so it was at this time I found that I cannot have children, because in 11 years, she never caught with me. It was devastating, since I can't have children biologically in any possible way. Making my depression worse. I thought before prison I would kill myself, and almost did, if not for family pulling up at the last moment at my home. Then prison made me consider using my belt. Then I had a mouthful of antidepressants. Didnt swallow though. You know youre fucked when the only reason you want to live is so that others wont be sad you left. I couldnt care if i lived or died, but I cared what would happen to other people.
Let me explain why things were devastating; I love children. No, not in that way. I hate when adults hurt kids. I dont even like watching that on television. My first and last episode of Full Metal Alchemist was the Mina one and I absolutely cried.
However, years later, after more failed relationships, I was arrested for possession of child porn. Why did I have it? Few reasons that therapy has helped me realize. Firstly, my therapist has determined that I am not a pedophile. Its deeper than that.

1. I wanted attention because I was single at the time and back to being mentally abused by my mother when I would visit more often due to my loneliness. So I wanted to be caught. Dumbest choice ever, but it led to me finally able to get therapy.
   
2. I wanted to be those children. Let me explain: As a sexual abuse victim, I always equated sex to love. I wanted that more and more and being without sex for five years at the time, I wanted to trade places with them and be that age again. I wanted a parent's 'love' or any adult's for that matter.
   

I knew that these kids didnt want this shit, unless they'd ended up like me, can't tell. But thats what my brain wanted. I wanted to be them. To have a different childhood where I hadnt been miserable enough to wish I was dead as a preteen. To be misdiagnosed as adhd, instead of a tortured soul and put on a medicine that did nothing for me. To not receive the love a child should to be happy and healthy, I mean, that was skewed due to my sexual abuse. Anyway, I went to prison for a couple years, and let me tell you, federal is bound and determined to fuck you harder than state prison. I received a little therapy here, not as much as Id have liked or needed, and also plenty more trauma.
Now let me explain something about my case. I sat in my home and did the bad thing. The government actually had to tell the victims that they were victims. I didnt touch anyone, I didnt talk to anyone. Take that morality as you will that the government had to inform the children that they were victimized, all while the government wont delete the porn from the internet. Yes, they in fact own a majority of these sites and content. Im not makkng excuses for me, im just stating the obvious criminal behavior of the US government.
Now, when I got out, I started getting therapy once a week. Still I was in a fog though. Im not exactly sure how therapy can get me back those memories and help me discover who sexually abused me at a young age. But im trying.
However, therapy has me trying to date older people to see if that helps and really, yes. I met a woman older than me by far and strangely enough, it has alleviated a lot of the mental bullshittery that I usually had with people around my age or younger.
When I was paranoid of being left before, so I would use dating apps to find a backup for the inevitable, that I felt unloved and unwanted, I dont now. I feel accepted, wanted, loved and I assume I am equati g being with her as love and support of an authority figure with benefits. As screwy as it sounds.
So, if your child may be displaying odd behavior, look into it. Be open about things. You NEED your child to be able to come to you with any issue. They need you to be there for them. Not be a prude or overtly douchebaggy that wont even talk about sex. They need to know what is right and wrong for their safety and future. They need therapy to help. They need you to act like a freaking adult. If my parents had been adults, I might've been able to express myself in a place I felt was safe, instead of being scared all the time of what my parents may think.
I probably havent thought of everything to explain here, so please, ama. Trolls will be ignored. I get that it is reddit, but seriously, grow up, trolls.
Ama

(English is not my first language, i apologize)
I've lost my support system, I've lost my 'gifted child', I've lost my friends, my family, and myself.
I have grown up, grown up to be a complete failure. Thinking that i had a future ahead of me was only a pipe dream.
Everytime i dare to talk to anyone, it's always. "You must run to god", "pray to god", "it's because you don't go to church". and i hate it.
I was described as a very smart kid, but i can barely pass nowadays. It hurts to know that I can't live up to my parents expections, atleast not anymore. Or anytime soon.
I talk to my mother about it, she blames my phone, my laziness, and me.
She acknowledges my depression but says i have no reason to have it, that back in her days, such things were non-existent.
That i could just go and take care of my grandmother so i could have a purpose.
That some people have no choice but have their life taken away from them.,
She sarcastically told me to sulk in my "emo" and see if that changes anything,
and that being suicidal was being idiotic and that only brain-dead people would do it. And that I'm not one of those people. But the thing is, i am.
I am one of those people who wish to take their own life. Because i do not think there is any hope of redemting myself to them, their complete disappointment in me does not fail to gut me from the inside, seeing my grades makes it very hard to swallow and i can very well see why my mother would say that.
I think I'm gonna kill myself before i become a repeater. So i will burden my mother once, qnd never again.

This thought has been swirling in my head since Saturday and a part of me thinks I am awful for feeling so numb about it but I can’t do it anymore.
I (22) met this friend, Allie (21), back in 2022 and we clicked almost instantly. She and I worked at the same place, and ended up living at the same building so she could drive me back and forth for work. We hung out almost every night and texted every day. I called her my best friend.
Another thing was that she has Bipolar Disorder. I myself have MDD, and I never saw her in a negative light because of it, why would I? I supported her in the best way I could and was there for her in her lowest lows. She had attempted against her life before, I knew that, and she had expressed wanting to again and again to me. Most of the time, she could be talked away from the ledge so to speak, but she definitely needed help. I supported her in getting a therapist and getting her medication and everything seemed to be better.
However, I soon realized, she didnt want help.
She would skip appointments. When she would go, she would withhold information and not speak or ask for advice. She wouldn’t take her medication so myself and eventually her boyfriend (21) would need to push her to. She wouldn’t eat, sleep, drink water, and when we were worriedly asking her to please do those things, she would laugh.
It began to grow exhausting when we were incredibly worried and she would make fun of us and simply say she would just “die.” instead and when we pushed she would say that it is her life and she should do whatever the hell she wants with it.
Every interaction I had with her like this, I grew less and less sad and more angry. It was frustrating. She didnt want help and laughed when we just wanted to be there for her.
This year, I had to break my lease, and in the meantime, she allowed me to stay at her place and her partners. We were okay, and I could always stay at my partner’s place if I needed some space from the couple. We were living okay.
But then, this last Saturday. I came back from vacation to find her and her boyfriend outside talking in her car. I went inside to bring in my luggage and was called outside soon after.
She had missed out on a refill appointment and hadn’t scheduled a new one. She had been unmedicated for days. Minutes before I showed up, she had driven erratically through traffic trying to crash but her boyfriend followed her until she pulled over and called the Suicide Hotline.
They got back, and while upset, she seemed calm. That was until her boyfriend called me to come outside and I could hear her yelling at him to “get out of the fucking car.”
I opened the door to the passenger’s seat where he sat, and leaned against the door frame. She was yelling at us to get the fuck away. She was going to kill herself. She wanted to die. She was angry.
Her boyfriend, was pleading with her to stop and that he won’t let her leave. She said she was going to hit the gas and drive in whatever direction caused more damaged. She didn’t care. I felt this was getting to a real dangerous level as she had never threatened others in her attempts before so I quickly told him to grab her keys.
Eventually, I got ahold of them, and she screamed and pushed and clawed at him to get out. He did and she locked herself in the car. We thought that wasn’t so bad until she pulled a bottle of pills from somewhere, and swallowed the whole bottle.
At this point, I was on the phone with her mom asking what to do. And she said to call 911, and I did.
She got out of the car, and he rushed to stop her and she pushed him off. I gunned after her and she threw one of those huge trash cans you have sitting at the front of your house at me. I kept going and grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled and didn’t let go. She screamed at me and clawed at me until her boyfriend came by and grabbed her properly so she couldn’t run.
She began yelling at him that she hates him, and that they are so done.
That’s when the cops came and they tried to calm her down but she was flailing and hitting so they were going to handcuff her.
Two things I should mention. One, these cops were white, she was not. Two, she had already attempted earlier this year and had been sent to an inpatient facility where she was treated very poorly and she came out of there incredibly traumatized.
As soon as she saw the handcuffs she screamed and told her boyfriend to “look at what you did, you did this!” and broke down completely. He was agitated with the cop who was going to handcuff her, and they ended up going off to the side to talk.
That’s when the paramedics came and I told them everything I knew. They tried to calm her down and that’s when I left to go give my statement to the cops. Once she had been sedated and taken away, my boyfriend came by as I had called him to tell him what was happening. As soon as he did appear, I broke down myself.
I ended up deciding to move in with him. It’s early but I simply can’t live under the same roof as them anymore. Not only for how heartbreaking and traumatizing seeing your friend try to kill themselves is, but because she was now being violent.
I texted her boyfriend later for updates, and he told me how she was refusing to speak or see us when she gets out. I simply told him, I didn’t care. She was alive, that’s what mattered.
She then went on to send him a huge text how she will die. How she will lie to the doctors and say she is fine and she will then die and nobody can stop her. She’ll run away and end her life because that is what she wants.
As soon as she said that, a part of me just seethed and almost the words “go ahead.” left me but I felt awful for thinking that. At the same time, I just sighed and told him to send that to her mom and to the doctors. She needs to stay in an inpatient facility for way longer than 72 hours and she cannot live by herself.
The best way I could describe it is, she doesn’t want to die because she wants the pain to stop. She wants to die out of spite. She has been wronged and that’s her revenge. I tried to understand, and even used my own experiences to try to relate to that wish of death but I couldn’t. I never wanted to hurt anyone with my attempt, or do it out of spite.
I don’t think it’s my responsibility to understand, but I can’t help her anymore. Even if she did want to talk to me when she gets out, I don’t think I would want to. She hurt us. I feel bad for her boyfriend, who now seems to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He can’t be without her, but I told him he can. He has his family and his friends. He has to see he does have a support system outside of her. He has a life outside of her.
Would it be so bad if we walked away?

PREVIOUS
The light coloured wooden floorboards creaked softly under my weight as I struggled. Using human crutches wasn’t difficult, but it was demeaning. They were miss matched and that was confusing. One was from a set I'd had as a child, while I didn’t recognise the other at all.
Without giving it too much thought I turned into my fathers study to find the room was changed. It was dilapidated. The furniture was rotten and falling apart while all the books were moth eaten. Brigetta sat on the floor, weaving thread into talismans.
‘Brigetta…? What are you doing?’ I asked as the space gradually fell away around us.
‘Making an anchor for you,” she answered softly. She wasn’t crying exactly, her eyes weren’t red and she wasn’t sobbing, but water ran down her face from her eyes. It was an unnatural amount that pooled around her in a puddle as she worked.
‘Why?” my voice echoed, confused.
‘Because they’re going to kill you.’
Cold dread trickled down my spine, ‘…Who are..?’
‘The Fae.’
As she spoke a shadow moved beside her and Markos appeared from nowhere. He held something in his hand, however I wasn’t able to make it out as the panic jolted me back to consciousness.
Taking a deep breath in, I was awake before I opened my eyes. Sweat dampened my clothes and I blinked slowly as understanding came to me, I had been dreaming. I couldn’t remember falling asleep, but I awoke in darkness. My mouth was dry and the only part of me that didn’t hurt was the leg I couldn’t feel, every other part wished for death.
However I was laying on something soft under light sheets. They ruffled softly as I turned over, and the warning came immediately, “Don’t try anything stupid.” It was Nathaniel who had spoken. His voice was somehow reassuring, smooth and calm. He was sitting not far from me beside the glow of a small lamp with a book in hand. It backlit his hair, giving him an ethereal halo, and he didn’t so much as bother to look over when I stirred.
“Where am I?” I asked, confused. My voice was husky and quiet as the vocal cords struggled to work.
“You’re in my chambers, and if you try anything, I’ll kill you outright.”
It came back to me gradually, being carried through endless marble hallways, and forced to bathe. I exhaled with shame as I remembered. Showing weakness was unacceptable in my family and I was a disgrace for being captured alive… My father would hate me if he knew, he would probably never speak to me again.
“...Why haven’t you killed me already?”
“Because you’re of no use dead.”
I wasn’t sure I was of any use alive either, “...Thank you,” I murmured softly.
“It’s too soon to thank me,” he answered, uncaring, as he turned a page and I allowed my gaze to drop
He was probably right. Even if I was safe right now, this was only temporary, and I didn’t have the energy to argue even if I wanted to. “How long has it been?” I asked instead.
“A couple of days,” he moved when he spoke and I automatically tried to recoil.
It was a wasted effort. I could hardly move at all, let alone defend myself. My injuries had set, and the muscles were simultaneously weak and stiff. I swallowed anxiously as he walked past. “Whatever you’re going to do, please don’t… I’ll do anything you want…”
Of course I was lying. Pretending to be afraid and hoping I was correct in what he wanted to hear as I tried to anticipate how best to survive this situation. “What I want right now, is for you to stop talking.”
Nathaniel passed me again and I flinched, maybe I wasn’t pretending as much as I wanted to be, I thought bitterly. However, I realized then that he was largely ignoring me. He had grabbed another book from somewhere in the darkness, and returned to his seat without acknowledging me.
Gradually, my heart rate slowed. The fae wasn’t going to do anything, he was just existing in the same space… but why? Was it a ruse? Another interrogation technique? Maybe he was trying to break my mind with the endless uncertainty. I watched him with wary caution as I debated whether or not I could use my charm to get him to let me go.
However, between the warmth of the bed and the gentle rustle of paper turning, my eyelids were growing heavy. My thoughts drifted and my consciousness was slipping away. I didn’t trust him, and I didn’t want to risk being killed in my sleep, but, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst way to die. At least I wouldn’t know it had happened…
***
When I awoke next I was alone in the plush bed. Sunlight glistened off my lashes and I turned over to get away from the brightness. The air was cold and every part of me ached, but the blankets were warm. I pulled them tighter around myself, nesling lower into them as I cautiously looked around.
In daylight, the room was cluttered. A thousand different ornaments, tapestries, crystals and pendulums crowded every surface. Books were haphazardly stacked in piles on the floor and leaned at precarious angles, leaving only narrow pathways through the mess.
To the right were french doors leading to a balcony. They were framed by burgundy velvet curtains that cascaded downward into heavy folds of excess fabric, and semi-transparent curtain sheers. At the foot of the bed was a Victorian era fainting lounge with similar dark velvet upholstery and an asymmetrical, ornately carved, wooden backrest.
On the left was a small partitioning wall that blocked the rest of the space from immediate view and the entryway to the bathroom. Antique furniture hidden among the mess lined the perimeters of the room and refracted light cast dull rainbows across the walls. It was beautiful, in a chaotic way.
Nathaniel was nowhere in sight and the room was quiet except for the gentle tick of the pendulums. I was alone as far as I could tell, but it was with caution that I began to move.
“Hello?” I called, wincing as I put pressure on my arm to push myself up.
The room remained silent and I glanced around to be sure. I had half expected this to be some kind of trap, however, nothing happened and I carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Heaving the damaged one over with disgust.
A thin trail of magic wrapped around my ankle and I smiled bitterly. It was a tether, binding me to the bed with a limited range of freedom. The writing itself wasn’t overly complicated, but I had no magic to use and the breakpoint was on the ceiling where I couldn’t reach just yet. With a small irritated huff I gave up, moving instead to find a weapon. That fae bastard would regret bringing me here.
Using the bed frame as support, I stood before awkwardly hopping across the room. I tried the balcony doors first, they were locked both physically and with a rigid barrier spell. Next I tried the main door only to find a similar situation before debating whether or not I could make it out the bathroom window. Most likely not, I realized bitterly. Escaping wasn’t a task I was capable of in my injured state.
However, that didn’t make me defenseless. I limped toward the desk and rummaged through the draws. Inside each drawer was no better than the rest of the room. They were filled with ink pots and quills, pens, pencils, paintbrushes and loose paperwork.
Small trinkets and other useless things that I suppose he simply couldn’t find any other place for only added to the disarray. Shutting the drawer I snorted in exasperation. It was ridiculous. What kind of person keeps so many pointless items? He must’ve had a hundred shiny but harmless trinkets.
Eventually I came across an engraved pocket knife made of silver. It opened with a swift click and the blade was remarkably sharp. I could kill Nathaniel easily with it… However, the thought of doing so made me nauseous and I closed the blade. It was pointless anyway, even if I killed him now, I was still trapped in the fae castle.
Placing it back on the desk I slowly sank to the floor instead. I hated myself for this, for being so weak. My fingers had little grip strength with my knuckles still healing, and with my good leg being compromised it was difficult to stand for too long. If I had killed him in the forest none of this would be a problem and I would still be with my family.
Some part of me knew I had sealed my own fate, but I wasn’t sure I regretted it. At least if I died, the war would be closer to ending and I sighed, running my hands back through my hair. The situation was hopeless. I didn’t know what to do, and I was afraid of what Nathaniel would do to me when he returned. For all I knew this was just another interrogation technique…
A muted click interrupted my thoughts and I glanced up. A moment of silence followed the sound and I waited in tense uncertainty: had Nathaniel returned? Seconds passed before I heard the soft swoosh of the door closing again and the hair on the back of my neck prickled. Someone had entered the room.
Boots clacked on the floorboards in purposefully slow steps as they navigated and I moved immediately. I crawled quietly across the floor and slipped under the bed, wedging myself between the clutter beneath it. Moments later the footsteps came closer, and I watched as small white shoes with a neat heel walked past the bed. Slender legs with tanned skin filled the shoes and the girl came to a stop beside the desk where I had been.
She stood there a moment and I held my breath as she examined the area. However when she turned to go, the pocket knife fell off the desk. It landed among the junk on the floor and she stooped to collect it. The woman was human, and remarkably beautiful.
Her long white-blonde hair fell forward over her shoulders and her slender fingers wrapped around the pocket knife. Her nails were manicured, painted pastel pink with small gems encrusted on them. She wore light makeup with matching diamantes on her upper cheek bones and bore the contract marks of a Fae agreement under them.
For a brief moment I wondered who’s ‘property’ she was. Probably not Nathaniel’s otherwise, she wouldn’t be creeping around his room like a thief, I thought as she stood again. No emotion crossed her face as she set the knife back where it had been before it fell and wondered what would happen if she saw me. Would I be able to convince her to help me? She didn’t seem unkind, however, fae ‘pets’ are well trained.
They’re loyal to their masters in all ways, and in combat they’re deadly. On the battlefield they cut through my father’s human worshipers with no remorse or restraint, and will just as easily cut down any un-reveanted vanir who crosses their path. Worse still is that they’re impossible to spot until they attack.
They look alike to any other human and blend in among our forces. That was part of the reason we began to poison our horde, the trace of death separates them from the vibrant life of those controlled by the Fae.
Eventually the girl turned away and disappeared from view. It seemed whatever she was looking for she hadn't found it and I exhaled with pure relief when I heard the door close again as she exited. I wasn’t sure I could have taken the stress if I had been found.
Laying under the bed my body ached and my bruised ribs hurt. I waited there a while, gathering the willpower to wriggle back out before deciding not to. It would take too much effort, and I felt safer in a hidden place. I fell asleep again curled among a pile of worn, but not dirty, clothes.
(Next chapter available on Patreon, as well as some ahhh spicy posts...)

“T-this! This is madness!” Count Harmswid, one of the very few Human nobles of the Seraphic Empire, bellowed as his hand slammed into the table, sending scrolls flying onto the floor of his luxurious tent. “You’d be leaving me defenseless! I already have a manpower shortage, and now you’d deprive me of not just Wyverns but all of my mana users!?”
Standing across from him, seemingly unphased and unbothered by the outburst, was Tharivol, the Duchesses Dark Elf spymaster. Tharivol remained stoic as Count Harmonswid's face turned a shade of deep red; the veins on his neck bulged with every word. As the tirade continued, spittle started to fly from the human’s mouth, landing on the polished surface of the table and even on Tharivol's dark cloak. Yet, the spymaster's demeanor did not change; there was no sign of disgust, no flinch, no reaction whatsoever.
“Do you truly expect me to comply with such an insane request!? You and that damned charlatan have both lost your minds!” The Count sneered before spitting on the floor. “I cannot, and I shall not!”
Count Harmswid's rage seemed to swell within him, growing more intense with each passing moment. "I'll drag both you and that insufferable wench before the Court of Houses!" he thundered, his voice echoing off the high walls of the chamber. "You think you can force a noble of my standing to forfeit his property and forces unjustly? The court will see you stripped of your titles, your lands confiscated, and the Duchess fined! Perhaps you would even find yourself exiled, you insufferable curr!"
The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the count's threats and the tension of the confrontation. Yet, through it all, Tharivol remained as impassive as ever, his expression never wavering from its cold neutrality.
Once, the count's rant had finally run its course, leaving him panting and glaring across the table. "Do you truly intend not to comply with the Duchess's order?" Tharivol's voice was so calm and devoid of emotion that it seemed as if he was simply discussing the weather.
"NO!" The count's response was a furious shout, his hands slamming down onto the table with such force that it splintered beneath them. "I will not bend the knee to such outrageous demands!"
Unphased by the outburst, Tharivol eyes scanned the room, looking at all the Count's personal guards in attendance. Two mages and six mana-capable knights stood uncomfortably against the wall of the tent, just behind the count. "Is there nothing that will convince you otherwise?" The Dark Elf asked, bringing his eyes back to the Count. “Coin? Concessions? Favors?”
The count's face twisted with hatred at the mere suggestion of compromise. "I'd sooner turn my blade towards the Duchess herself than comply with anything that whore demands!" he spat venomously, the words dripping with disdain and loathing.
Tharivol simply nodded as if the count's refusal and insults were nothing more than he had expected. "Very well," he said, his voice still calm and unbothered, before looking behind him to two of his own guards who accompanied him.
These individuals wore unassuming attire, their features obscured behind black mosaic masks that shifted and morphed in subtle ways. Anyone looking at the masks would find their gaze unfocused, slipping across them as if they were merely part of the background. Beneath their dark cloaks was sleek armor made of a substance unfamiliar to the count, a strange blend that was neither quite metal nor leather.
"Take the Count's head and slay any who resist," Tharivol commanded his guards and turned back to the Count.
But before his eyes could leave the two shadow-like figures, their forms surged forward like a wisping darkness, their movements far too fast for any being's eye to comfortably track. Each unsheathed, jagged, wicked-looking blades, as long as one's forearms. There were subtle differences between each weapon, but they all had one thing in common. And that was the fact that they seemed to be forged from a strange blood-red metal that made people’s blood run cold.
The Count and his guard's eyes widened as they flinched back and grabbed at their weapons. However, before they could properly react, these ghosts were faster. Not a single sword left their sheathe, and not a word was chanted before blood was drawn.
As Harmswid opened his mouth to scream, a terrifying silence took hold instead. The world spun into a vortex of chaos, colors blurring and shapes warping as if reality itself was unraveling around him. Orders died on his lips, replaced by a mute plea for his men to save him.
Then, he crashed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. All sense of time and place dissolved while his mind struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him. He was trapped in a maelstrom of motion where his guards – his paragons of strength – were being ruthlessly dismembered.
The dark figures moved with a terrifying and unnatural speed. They were blurs of motion armed with those wicked, crimson-tinged blades felling season knights that were once symbols of power and protection as if they were pigs lambs brought to feasts. Their armor offered no resistance as it was pierced effortlessly, and their cries were cut short, transforming into wet gurgles and sickening thuds as they collapsed.
Blood splattered the interior of the tent, a gruesome crimson rain painting what had once been a place of noble authority into a scene of carnage. His loyal protectors, those who were supposed to be his shield, were now nothing but lifeless corpses strewn across the ground.
Through his terror, the Count saw Tharivol out of the corner of his eye. The dark elf stood unmoved, a cold spectator observing a symphony of violence orchestrated by his will. With one more attempted gasp, Harmswid’s world plunged into darkness.
With an air of nonchalant finality, Tharivol strolled forward. He bent down, not a hint of bother on his face, and retrieved the severed head of Count Harmswid. The dark elf held the head aloft, examining it with a clinical detachment as if it were merely a curious specimen and not the remnants of a once powerful man.
"Hopefully, this will deter others from such foolishness,” Tharivol remarked with a chilling yet humored voice. “I’m sure there will be a few more unwise enough to disobey our mistress, but let they and Count Harmswid serve as… palpable enough deterrent to insubordination.”
The Dark Elf spun on his heel and strode confidently towards the tent flap while his masked guards moved like shadows in his wake. What had transpired was as swift as it was horrifying, from start to finish. The once opulent pavilion, a symbol of the Count's authority, had become a macabre slaughterhouse in mere seconds, and the air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood.
Tharivol moved with the grace of a predator. He grasped a fistful of the Count's hair, casually swinging the severed head as he left the carnage behind. Stepping out of the tent, a scene of utter chaos greeted him.
A cataclysmic roar had ripped through the air, an earth-shattering crash rattled the bones of every being within earshot. Tents flailed wildly, torn from their moorings and scattered like scraps of paper by the force of the blast. Men were thrown off their feet, rolling across the dirt in a desperate bid for stable ground.
And the source of such devastation was the immense silhouette of a black dragon. A very old and very powerful black dragon of monstrous proportions. Its landing had been a display of raw power; the earth itself sundered from its weight, cracking and buckling as the beast settled into place, and smoke curled from its nostril as its massive wings slowly unfurled.
To Tharivol's left, a figure stood resolute against the swirling chaos. Clad in heavy plate armor, augmented by the bones and scales of vanquished wyverns. One of the Duchess's most powerful and he was a testament to the mistress’s influence and strength. The great warrior's hide cloak buffeted violently in the maelstrom, yet he remained steadfast, utterly unmoving. His massive sword was driven deep into the earth, his hands folded gently over the hilt, as he stared maliciously towards the soldiers and mages toppling head over heel.
Striding past the warrior, Tharivol moved effortlessly underneath the dragon's colossal wingspan until reached the other side, where a panicked crowd was already gathering. He held up the Count's head for all to see and amplified his cold voice with magic, causing it to reverberate across the encampment.
"YOUR TREACHEROUS LORD IS NO MORE!" Tharivol bellowed, "HE CHOSE DEFIANCE! HE CHOSE DEATH! AND THUS THE FATE OF ALL WHO CHOOSE SELF-INTEREST OVER THE IMPERIAL WAR EFFORT!”
The gathered soldiers gasped, their faces twisting into a mixture of shock, disbelief, and abject terror. This was a display of power unlike anything they had ever witnessed - the swift brutality, the utter disregard for a noble life, and now, the raw might embodied by the massive dragon that cast its imposing shadow over them all.
A wave of shock and outrage swept throughout the Count's retinue. They stood frozen for moments, hands clenching around sheathed weapons, before the reality of the situation sunk in. Their lord was dead, his head held aloft like a grotesque trophy a damned dark elf who stood before them. Yet, their fury was tempered by the sight of the colossal monstrosity looming above the foul man.
Not even the stoic knight captain, his battle-scarred face creased in anguish, dared break the uneasy silence that had descended upon them. His eyes flicked between the severed head and what he considered the largest and oldest dragon he’d ever seen in his damnable life. It was bad enough one of the Duchess’s hero showed up, but with this monster here, all thoughts of vengeance were crushed beneath the weight of gaping maw staring at him.
Tharivol lowered the head, allowing it swinging morbidly in his grip as he marched straight to the knight captain. Halting mere inches from the man, the Dark Elf looked down at him through his nose despite the fact that he was a head shorter than the gruff knight. But how tall one was mattered very little at the current moment. For the poor captain fought to maintain any semblance of calm as his entire body trembled, not from mere cold, but from a primal, instinctual terror.
"Gather your mana users. Assemble the wyverns, good captain." Tharivol commanded, his voice still magically amplified. "You will report to the Duchess in Aldenshore, and with haste. I trust," here Tharivol's gaze flicked meaningfully towards the dragon, "that you understand the urgency of this order?"
His tone carried not a hint of a question, but the chilling finality of an ultimatum. The Duchess' word was now law and the dragon was both enforcer and a grim reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Should the captain hesitate, should he choose to dally, the monstrous creature would likely make a far bloodier example than even the Count's brutal end.
The knight captain could only bow his head and utter a hoarse, "Aye, my lord." Compliance, however grudging, was the only path to survival. Defiance meant not just death for himself but the annihilation of his men. No amount of courage or pride could bridge the chasm of power that lay between them.
An expression like a viper's grin spread across Tharivol’s face. A macabre amusement flitted into his eyes as he raised Count Harmswid's head once more, slapping the lifeless cheek in a grotesque mockery of applause. "Very good!" he declared, his amplified voice carrying an undercurrent of cruel delight.
"You shall rest this day and prepare. But," his tone turned as sharp as a dagger, "do not keep us waiting. To delay the Duchess... well, that would be oh so very unwise."
With a final flourish, Tharivol spun on his heel and marched away, but just before the Dark Elf disappeared below the hulking mass of the Dragon, The Knight Captain attempted to rise to his feet. "Wait, my lord!" The man stammered out as his hand reached out.
However, the sudden movement had caught the dragon's attention. With a rumble that reverberated through the encampment, its massive head dipped low. Twin nostrils flared, expelling twin plumes of superheated plasma, as its eyes narrowed, burning with fury.
The knight captain let out a yelp, a terrified sound he hadn't made since childhood. His body recoiled as if struck, and his legs had given way beneath him as he fell on his rear.
Tharivol paused, turning back with feigned concern. His voice dripped with theatrical sympathy, "Oh dear, is there some problem, good captain?" He let the question hang in the air before bursting into a peal of chilling laughter.
With a dramatic gesture, he addressed the knight captain once more. "Well then, Captain, go on! What is it that troubles you so?" There was an odd playfulness in the dark elf's tone that sent chills down every man in the Count’s army’s spine.
Panic surged through the knight captain. Caught between the titanic dragon and the mocking presence of the dark elf, fear threatened to swallow him whole. Each raspy breath seemed to drag against his throat, the super-heated air of the dragon's breath filling his nostrils. It was an intoxicating mix of molten metal and sulfur, a scent that seemed to speak of fiery annihilation.
He scrambled back even further as the dragon's head moved closer. Desperation lent his words a frenzied edge. "W-what of the food stores, my lord? Our gathered supplies? And the men – the rest of the soldiers? Shall they march to Aldenshore with us, or... or remain?" The words tumbled out, laced with the fear of asking the wrong question, of drawing further ire.
Tharivol approached the man before halting a comfortable distance away. The knight captain flinched, averting his gaze from the dragon, and fixing it on the ground and started whispering prayers and reciting passages from the holy text of his god. Tharivol tilted his head, a curious, almost amused glint in his dark eyes.
For a tense moment, he simply observed the knight captain, letting the silence stretch between them before heaving a heavy sigh. “Do you speak of the mundane?" His tone was flippant, laced with a hint of disdain. "Take them, leave them – it is of no concern to me.” He answered, waving his hand dismissively. “Now that you have your answer… do not bother me with such trivial matters again. I have much more pressing concerns and so little time."
As Tharivol walked away, the knight captain scrambled to his feet. “Y-You heard ‘em! Git yer asses movin’ less ya want to be Dragon feed!” The man ordered with fear evident in his voice as the Dark Elf disappeared beneath the dragon. “And send word to the Wyvern camps of our new orders!”
Silence reigned at the order as everyone stood stock still, but everyone was kicked into overdrive with one last snort from the monster. Soldiers, mages, and workers of every type scramble about with panicked efficiency. Carts were hastily loaded, men and women ran to and fro with bundles of supplies, and the injured were loaded onto wagons with utmost care. Within minutes, the once serene camp was transformed into a whirlwind of purposeful chaos.
And as the madness unfolded, in a distant tree line, Coleman and his ODA team watched silently, peering through the optics of their weapons and purpose-built surveillance tools.
“Fuck… is that our target’s head?” Schwarz suddenly spoke up hushedly as he peered through the high-powered optic of his precision rifle. “I think that’s his head…”
Coleman released an exasperated sigh as he watched with a camouflaged high-powered surveillance device as the strange dark-skinned man walked away with the noble's head in hand. “Yep… Yep, that’s his head…” He nearly growled in annoyance. “Damnit…”
"Wait, isn't this a good thing? We don't gotta kill him," Bennett piped up, a note of confusion in his voice.
Elijah cut him off, the usual lighthearted tone gone from his voice. "No, dipshit, we wanted to bag 'em for questioning," he gestured at the chaotic camp with the barrel of his rifle, "and we can’t question a corpse."
“All units, this is Baron actual.” Coleman quietly spoke into his headphones as he informed the litany of multinational special operations forces that were positioned or prowling around in preparation for the assault on this camp. “Change of plans, our targets KIA from internal fighting.”
“Baron actual, this is Warlock actual.” An Australian Special Air Services Regiment (SASR) team came over the net. “That’s a BIG fackin’ cunt, mate... I’m not so sure about this one.”
No one could fault the assessment. That monstrosity of a dragon was well over 100 meters from snout to tail, and hefty enough to tank most of their firepower. "Baron actual, copy that Warlock. Standby, we’re trying to figure something out."
“This is Bravo actual. Yeah, I have agree with Warlock. This suddenly got a lot more dangerous. I don’t think the operation’s worth it with this thing hanging around." A new voice came over the net belonging to the Polish Commandos, the Jednostka Wojskowa Komandosów (JWK), and gave his opinion on the matter.
The chatter from other teams confirmed the general sentiment. They came in relatively light hoping to do a lightning raid and bug out. Engaging this creature felt like a suicide mission. Sure they could hit with every Javelin or Anti-Tank weapon they had, but no one was convinced they’d be able to land a killing blow and unless someone got lucky and domed the fucker.
“I can’t believe we’re blue balled by a big fackin’ lizard.” The Aussies voice echoed throughout everyone headphones. “What do ya think? Should we pull out?”
Coleman rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. The Aussie had put it crudely, but the sentiment was spot on. The mission was a bust. The tactical dilemma they faced had become far more complicated with the appearance of these newcomers and their dragon.
“Warlock, hold one.” Coleman responded before leanning back against a fallen tree.
A frustrated and heavy breath left the ODA team leader’s mouth as he popped off his helmet, exposing his hair to the hot summer air. As he contemplated his optins while his hand rubbed across his admittedly greasy hair. It had been quite some time since he had a proper shower and, the dirt was starting to build up.
As he thought of way to continue the mission, every scenario he spun out in his mind unraveled before it could take shape. Assault the camp now? With that dragon in the mix, it was madness. Their firepower was decent, but not against a beast of that size and unknown resilience. The thing would torch them before they knew what was going on.
Sneak in, grab what intel they could? Nah… that was stupider than whatever some private fresh out of bootcamp would think up. The goal was not to be decisively engaged.
The Poles and Aussies had a point. Maybe the best course of action was to just to bugger off and keep and element here to observe and mark the location for when the ground pounders came in. But that almost felt like it was a waste… Here they had a prime opportunity to turn a village into a clandestine staging point and letting go of that idea felt… wrong.
Just as another sigh left Colemans mouth, an earth-shattering roar split the air. The team leader whipped his head up, expecting the worst case scenario. The dragon had erupted into flury of motion, as the whirlwind of claws, wings, and raw power tookeof, blowing debris across the camp and scattering tents like leaves in a storm.
But it didn't attack.
The gargantuan creature circled for a moment, leaving a sinister shadow against the clear blue sky, before banking and soaring eastwards.
Coleman blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in the situation. A hundred thoughts raced through his head. Where was it going? It didn’t notice us? Would it return? But Within seconds, the beast had vanished into the distance.
Then, a flicker of opportunity flashed across his eyes. “This Baron actual, let’s wait a bit and see what happens...” Coleman suggested with a predatory grin spreading across his face.
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......
Drake tossed the last shovelful of soil over his shoulder, looking over the massive circular bunker elevator that had been buried beneath rubble and dirt. Destrier and Caz were consulting the map for any kind of clue as to how it could be opened up. Cassius and Remin both kept an eye on Charlotte and the younger of the two was playing patty-cake with the small woman. Drake paused for a moment, looking at the display with an odd trembling in his heart. It was clear charlotte was at least a teenager, but she acted like a small child, her wide eyed wonder evident in the freely smiling face and glittering eyes as she happily patted her hands against Cassius'. His stomach roiled and he almost doubled over as he spit out a mouthful of bile that sizzled on the ground ominously. Truth be told, since he'd been thrown into that strange void he'd felt sick, the tingling, electrical power in his veins only intensifying even as he dug out the massive hundred foot in diameter elevator. Chucking the shovel to the side halfheartedly, he looked up at the tree of hung corpses as the shovel clanged against a wall several paces away. His heart began to pound angrily and the feeling of nausea and static intensified exponentially, He doubled over and vomited, a pink slurry of blood and oatmeal splattering on the ground. He fell to one knee as the edges of his vision darkened for a moment, an overwhelming weakness turning his limbs to lead. Cassius appeared at his side, a look of fearful concern on his face as he went to grab Drake by the shoulders.
Drake didn't understand where the knowledge came from, but Cassius absolutely could not touch him. Drake shoved a hand out, launching Cassius back a few feet where he landed on his back. Sitting up, Drake saw the rapidly cooling red-hot handprint on the chest of his nano-mesh Gambeson at the same time Cassius did. They shared a look of startled panic and realization before Drake slumped forward, his last thought before the void took him was one of confusion.
"What's happening to me?!"
...
Charlotte saw the man named Drake tumble forward after shoving his friend, Heat mirage rising off his prone back as the soil around him began to melt into magma. She hurried to her feet when the old man in lamellar held her back, a look of confusion and fear on his face.
"Why aren't you helping him?!"
She cried trying to push past the old man's iron strength. Her hand still smudged with soot where the man currently laying in a puddle of molten soil had reattached her finger like magic. The man looked down at her, anxiously shouting.
"Do you not see the godsdamned lava?! I don't think we can even get close!"
Charlotte stopped pushing, a feeling of stark impotency falling like a pall over her mind as the ground bubbled around Drake's still form. She didn't know much about her new world, but she knew that man was a good one, and seeing him lay lifeless and still made her skin crawl with the desire to help. But then she heard a sound that chilled her to the bone.
The dull thrum of propulsor engines reached her over the wind and she whipped around to scan the sky. She could see them against the soft brown midday sky, dark shapes that hurtled through the air like birds of prey. She could see them now in her mind, loaded to the gills with Spec ops and bio-engineered soldiers, Artillery class emitters charged to full, engines thrumming under a full combat load of rockets and bombs. Charlotte wildly looked around, spotting a mostly intact, low forge building she shouted.
"If you want to live get inside!!!!"
The woman and large black man who'd been pouring over the maps looked up confusedly as Charlotte began shoving Remin towards the building. The panic she felt made her nerves burn with the need to run, but she couldn't abandon them she couldn't just let the-
An earplitting screech came from inside her skull forcing her to her knees as she clutched the aching sides of her head, a horrifyingly familiar voice speaking to her from within her very being.
"Ooooooooh Sylva my dear?~ Did my little cuckoo lose her collar?~ Ah, no matter, would you kindly clear the landing area for the buzzards?~"
Her arms fell limp as her viewpoint shrank away, leaving her floating in the darkness as she saw her body move of its own accord. Drawing a long bayonet from the thigh scabbard on the old man's leg and driving it right between his ribs, the blade expertly slipping between lamellar plates. She wanted to scream as the old man jolted back, clutching at where the knife had slipped through his armor, falling to the ground as she rotated to face the other three. Her hair swayed in front of her face, the dark brown draining upwards, leaving it a stark silver with a purple stripe. The hum of the buzzards was only growing louder as she reached for the small of her back, clawing at the veil between her body and her as a pen-flare came into view, pointed at the sky.
She silently screamed as a purple flair rose into the sky, the cold void swallowing her like it had all those years ago.
...
Nothingness surrounded Drake, a deep, endless, colorless world devoid of meaning or substance. But he wasn't alone here, something moved within the emptiness, pure, flavorless power roiling off it like the heat of his village's forge.
And it was angry.
He could feel it as it beheld him with a sort of bestial curiosity born out of its anger. Invisible tendrils snaked into his body like hot pieces of iron, molding themselves around his bones and sinews like it was searching for something. Crawling through his veins and into his heart, making him feel as though he was burning alive. His heart seized and stopped bringing a cold stillness to his body. But he didn't die as the tendrils slowly withdrew, heart pounding back to life like a bright orange flame had been ignited in his chest. The thing's viewpoint changed, looking down on him from above as it touched the glowing sigil over his heart with that same rageful curiosity, then a tendril of power touched the scythe on his wrist with something akin to fondness. He could feel hard crystalline bands forming around his fingers as the thing rumbled with amusement, the feeling of molten iron filling his body before fading as each band slowly reached completion. Then it hurled him ass over head through a wooden door.
Death jumped out of his chair, falling hard without his prosthetics and careful not to spill the yellowish water inside the odd glassware in his slender hand. The two stared at each other with similar levels of bewilderment as Drake rubbed his face before looking at the set of ten obsidian bands that encircled the base of each finger and thumb.
"How in the fuck did you get here?"
Death asked calmly, stump-walking back to his chair and taking a long burbling pull from the glassware in his hand.
Drake clambered into one of the smoky chairs death had casually summoned.
"I... uh... I got thrown through your door by... something... I don't exactly know what. It seemed... angry at me, though."
Death looked up with a blank expression, oily smoke rising from his nostrils as he said.
"Beg pardon? what do you mean you don't exactly know what did it? wait..."
A look of concern etched itself into Death's face as he grabbed one of Drakes hands, looking at the black rings with ever widening eyes. Slowly he made eye contact with Drake, holding up the jewelry bedecked hand urgently.
"Do you even know what these are?!?!"
Drake shook his head.
"Obviously fuckin not."
Death took a deep breath, taking a long burbling hit from the piece of glassware with palpable stress as he set Drakes hand down, letting his chosen look at the rings curiously and experimentally take one off. The moment the pinky ring stopped touching his flesh Death leapt back exclaiming.
"Jesus fucking christ kid!! Put it back on! put it back on!"
Drake slipped the ring back on, he'd felt a small boost to his energy but hadn't noticed anything that would elicit such a reaction from the harvester of souls.
"Who's Jesus christ?"
Drake asked as Death took another calming breath before replying.
"Probably one of the most famous demigods known to humankind, but that isn't important..."
Death folded his hands and leaned across the desk with a twitching eyelid.
"What is important, is how you managed to acquire ten heart of the umbra crystals for rings. I can count on one hand the amount of people who have acquired exactly one of these rings."
Drake looked at the dull black crystal rings curiously.
"Do they give me extra power?"
Death shook his head, slowly revealing an arm encased in the black bands.
"Quite the opposite... They typically completely restrain your power so you don't burn up and turn into a walking, talking nuclear weapon. And they're specifically given to those who have touched the Umbra and survived, typically just experiencing the primordial soup that makes reality results in a cataclysmic leap in power... but even then... it's only ever been one ring. Three humans have owned one of these rings, Archibald Sunshine, Roxanne Richards, and Bagelious Braveheart. How the Bagel god's chosen got one I'm at a loss. But of those three, One died using the power the ring held back, The other lives inside a mechanical body locked away from her powers permanently, and Bagelius? he's... He's just unhinged."
Drake gazed at his hands, the rings glittering dully in the flickering firelight. He held them up curiously.
"So... what does it mean if I have ten?"
Death took another deep breath, letting it out in an exasperated sigh. He didn't look drake in the eye as he stared at a wall.
"I... I don't know... If I had to guess..."
Death looked at Drake with no small amount of curiosity and fear for his life.
"You didn't just survive the umbra... You fought it... and lived to tell the tale... I don't even think you're human anymore Drake..."
Drake furrowed his brow, clenching and relaxing his fist, feeling the rings click together.
"Then what am I?"
Death shook his head before simply stating.
"Something I and those before me, have never seen..."
He looked into Drakes eyes, a soft glimmer in the endless, silvery pools as he rolled his sleeve back down to hide the bands around his own arm.
"You defy every law and command of the universe, just by existing."
Drake slowly nodded before standing back up.
"That explains why conquest looked so afraid. Bitch kidnapped my soul and tried to fight me on her own turf and still lost."
"Im sorry..."
Drake glanced over at Death's coldly calm words, the primordial exploding with power as he roared.
"She did WHAT!?!?!"
Drake looked at death with wide eyes, shocked at the sudden outburst, the primordial literally steaming with rampant power as he clicked his legs on. Drake was about to step through the door and back to his body when death stopped him with a snarled.
"No, you're coming with me. I need to know what she's playing at... and what better way than to bring the one person she's actually afraid of."
...
Caz had barely taken a running step towards Charlotte, blindsided by the sudden betrayal as the small woman lifted a pen flare to the sky and launched it with a Pop! Snatching her Huntress she broke it open, cocking the striker and slamming a fresh flechette into the electrically insulated chamber. A massive shadow loomed over her and she froze in her tracks, looking up at the massive metal machine as it hovered over the ruined village, her heart pounding in her throat as dark silhouettes leapt from the sides of the propulsor driven aircraft. They landed hard on the ground, Grey, patterned armor shifting to blend in with the bombed out village as their cold visors regarded her emotionlessly. Caz drew a bead on the first one, about to fire when the cold steel of a bayonet was pressed against her throat from behind. She'd forgotten about charlotte. A soft chuckle came from within the group of organized soldiers and they parted to reveal a geknosian in similar but far more ornate armor. Golden medals bedecking every available surface including a fabric crotch flap weighed down with stamped precious metals. They pulled an ornately forged helmet from their head, a dark grin on the general's face as he looked around at the general disarray the five troublemakers found themselves in.
Cassius held a chest seal to the wet gash between Remin's ribs. The old man looking pale and shaky as he weekly held his shotgun in the general direction of the soldiers. Destrier slowly folded up the map and tucked it into the pouch at the small of his back, dark eyes gliding studiously over the Geknosian forces. Caz adjusted her crosshair onto the General and felt the bayonet press harder against her throat.
"Drop it... Bitch~"
The small woman holding the knife cooed. Caz snarled and threw her Huntress to the ground, raising her hands in surrender as the blade of the bayonet relaxed against her throat. She wanted to spare Drake a glance, but she dared not turn her head lest she slit her own throat on the keen blade of Remin's long bayonet. The Geknosian General sauntered forward, attempting to take her chin in his hand.
"ARRRGH!"
The General cried out, leaping back as a burst of cold frost froze his war gauntlet into a brick of ice. Caz's eyes lit up as she backed into Charlotte, the woman crying out in pain and jerking the blade away as a brick of frosted ice formed around her chest. The Geknosian general grabbed for the blaster pistol at his hip and she kicked him in the chest, freezing his chestplate and sending him reeling back in shock. She got a glimpse of Destrier sprinting to Remin and Cassius's side, helping Drag the old man into the low forge building as Caz dove for her Huntress. A heavy armored boot slammed into her mask, throwing her disorientingly on her side even as the boot froze over. Caz slowly got back to her feet as the soldiers bore their guns down on her, wiping the blood from her split lip through her mask, she growled, glancing back at Drake's still form, the ground around him having cooled and solidified into hard stone. Charlotte slowly joined the generals side, the frost around her chest quickly melting as she leaned in to whisper in the general's ear, eliciting a smile.
"Thank you Sylva, the information is much appreciated. A little cuckoo bird tells me that you all came here looking for the human bunker. How pitiful you don't have an access remote, like this one?"
The general held out a hand, a piece of blocky, olive drab green plastic falling into his outstretched, thawing palm. Clicking a button, nothing happened and he purred.
"But, alas we're at an impasse, for only someone of human genome may access the bunkers... oh wait~"
He held the remote out to Charlotte, Who stared at it blankly, eyes glimmering dully for a second. Then they dulled again as she looked up at Caz with an odd expression.
The remote sailed through the air and Caz instinctually caught it as Charlotte monotonely stated.
"Run, Keep it away from them."
Caz didn't need to be told twice as she turned on her heel and sprinted through a small alleyway between two buildings that leaned on each other, blaster bolts ablating the stony surfaces in puffs of loud smoke and blinding flashes. Grabbing the hook at her belt, she threw it and slung herself onto the crumbling rooftops, one of the metal buzzards turning where it hovered in the air to focus a glowing emitter on her. She leapt off the crumbling rooftop just as the powerful laser ablated the spot she'd just been standing with a blinding flash and a pressure wave that launched her much farther through the air than she intended. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a crumbling wall rushing at her as she fell face first towards it, clutching the remote to her chest.
......
Part 106: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1cr3pct/troublemakers_adrenaline_is_a_superpower_in_itself/

Just had I am having I dont know what the fuck it is just over it's not about jee its about everything my life will always collapse within itself and i will never be able toachieve anything in my life madarchod yeh mama kept on snoring in the night I couldn't sleep my head hurts and now some random ass fucking auntie and her child won't let me sleep (her daughter was in her home for a makeover or some shit and my sister and she are friends and she lost some good stuffworth 40k) she came yesterday aur mere mama tak ko dhundhna mein lagaya I was about to sleep at 12pm till 1:30 pm par yeh madarchod aa gaye sone ni diya ab main so ni para sir dard ho raha and even if I manage to sleep I will still end up sleeping at like 3or 4 am advanced 9 am onwards hai it's like always like everytime I can controll nothing people might as well spit in my face behenchod God gifted behen ka loda madarchod randi hu main bas chutiya sala jhant bhar ki jindagi usne ma bap bhai behen sab munh pe antagonistic hain bak bal khatam ni hoti conditionally supportive jab main give up kar chuka tha to sabne kaha padh loda lassan ab main padhna chahta hun to sari bakchodi inki abhi yad ati hai behenchod jhoothe hypocrites moody sale aur main chutiya madarchod kuch ni kar sakta kuch ni there is nothing my life had been fucked my life will be fucked and it will remain fucked I am at the end I cannot motivate myself even further I can do nothing nothing nothing behenchod sari willpower chus gayi hai madarchod madarchod madarchodadarchid madarchod madarchod behenchod how the fuck are people even happy with their lives why don't they just die what's the point what the fuck calm down Kuch ni hora yahan mental breakdown hai and I am not sure if I can recov- Stop stop stop. It's the only chance for me to take over my broken down fucked up psyche and you must not give in to the anxious force the bitch guy within you. Feelings are fucked and they must be burned at an altar. Feel feelings selectively. Many things, many thought patterns that you find yourself in are a result if past trauma, current conditions of your life, and much more. These feelings can lead to one taking drastic steps. The only way to counteract all of this is to give into pure rationality. Giving into pure rationality I must admit that I have no way of quantifying my condition other than mocks and I am too afraid to give mocks, and they will take a lost of time. And speaking logically, the emotional blow from a fucked up performance has a very high of hindering my progress and crippling my motivation, and thus I have convinced myself to forgo mocks. Rationally speaking I must maximize the mocks, but I have mentioned the caveat which lies, what I cannot do is give up. I must study. Keep on studying. Study no matter what. Study however. But study. Work with pen. Watch videos. It doesn't matter. I have to study. I have to give my full efforts, as much as I can. That's the best thing. And the rest of it I have to bet on luck and my mental performance while giving the paper, I have to maximize that. I will not be able to do jackshit in the exams in the time which is left, that's the truth, and in a month you cannot do jackshit either. But I will have to play on the only thing which I have, my mind, i will have to pray and make sure it works in the Advanced, simultaneously I will have to prepare myself emotionally for the blow that will come with the failure, because there are high chances. Then I will have to bludgeon and carry on anyhow. I will have to keep working hard. There is no other way. I will have to go to therapy, by now my mind has completely bifurcated into two personalities, and the bitch pussy crying voice will gave to be cured and dealt with, else it endangers the survival of us both. I will have to stidy. I will have to work hard. I will have to be me. I will have to be rational. I will have to be more emotionally intelligent. I will have to know to select feelings carefully. I will have to be present and hyper aware of everything. The alternative is a very dark path. Well my mind is opting for that alternative because life seems darker. The problem is that I don't feel anything. I am an amalgamation of basic animal instincts of survival and ambition coupled with executive functions and logical side, and I am as much part of myself as the emotional side is. And I see no logical sense to give up, because all the logic is pretty much predicated around survival and increasing entropy of the universal system; and I am a microcosm in my own right, a system of my own and my stability and survival and success is what all the reasoning is fundamentally based on - ergo, dying and giving up is not an option. The emotional side has to be modulated and controlled. I will have to logically induce emotions that will drive me and efficiently deal with and soothe the negative emotions, I will have to validate many scary emotions but at the same time I will have to completely reject, invalidate, ignore, and forcibly stop multiple emotions from festering, which is not healthy for normal people, but I do not lie within the norm if the norm is overall absence of stark dissatisfaction and disillusionment with life. That being said I do not think I am in a position to attempt studying, and it is incredibly hard to determine whether this is the bitch voice or the logical voice speaking. I do not think I will be able to nap either. But I do presume similar conditions will follow me while giving exams because past patterns do not support me being in the best condition while giving exams, and this is the best way to segway to positive emotions. Fuck it I am going to study. I feel tired. Everything is impossible. But I will study. When Thor has to slay Jormungandr he knows he is going to die, but he wields his mighty hammer and accepts his destiny and valiantly fights the great serpent, and dies. I am going to do the same. I know I will fail. I will grieve. I will cry. But not give up. I know cards are stacked up against me. But i will not give up. If I fight against overwhelming odds enough number of times then I will learn to create miracles, and that is a divine power in it's own right. I will learn to create miracles. I will fight against all odds and I might win, or I might lose. But I will keep on struggling, and eventually I will be the miracle maker. What if I fail to make any miracles??? Well, what were the chances that I was born as a dog? Or I was a table? Or I was nothing. My very existence is a miracle and I will create miracle. Humans were fish struggling on land and now they are off to conquer stars!!!!!! This is a miracle!!! Everything was pointless but we kept on struggling!!!! We achieved more than what we could think!!! Why must I give up!!!! Fuck it guys let me overdose myself with caffine and start studying the fuck. Imma do organic revision and pyqs. Organic ke behenchod sare 20 sal ke paper aaj hi nipta dunga madarchod ab bolo koi mock mock (I know it's not possible, but what did I say??) Ya fir definite. Aod. Rotation. Kuch nahi padhunga lekin padhunga aur is bhakalnde behen ke lode exhausted ass state mein padhunga ma chod dunga jindagi ki behen ki chut. Bollo bhagwati maiyaaa ki jai!!!

Prof. Sam Vaknin Male Victims Don’t Cry: Real Men=No Pain!
https://youtu.be/2aPLuVfD-j8?si=1OmJjKpE7ubkyWWV
Vaknin: "Men feel less comfortable to admit to having been traumatized - it is perceived as a weakness, a deplorable and ridiculous vulnerability, effete and effeminate. If you have been victimized as a man, something must be wrong with you, maybe you are just stupid, gullible, and you had it coming (you deserve it)."
Comments to the video:
allentempleton2429
Our society can not accept men as victims of a female narcissist. The more masculine a man appears the less likely our society will understand, believe or accept him. I am viewed as a broken man by people who I have attempted to explain my situation to. Yes It was my fault for entering the relationship. It was my fault for having children with her and trusting her with my finances. Those were judgment errors but I didn't believe that she was mentally ill and evil.
Should I have left at the first sign of abuse and just took the beating that our society delivers onto a man in this situation? Yes. Unfortunately I had no understanding of narcissists or psychology. I feared the shame and retribution I would have to go through. I thought the only way I could protect my kids was to stay and take the beatings. It's a cruel no win game for the male victim , you get a beating if you stay and you get a beating if you go.
Chez8922-kf6cy
I had a full blown narc girlfriend back in 89 when I was 19. I ended up moving into her place after a couple months. I caught her forging checks from my unused check books and when I confronted her she went nuts and started hitting me and pulling out my hair from behind when I tried to get away from her. I had long hair at the time. Yes, I was taught that "Real men" don't hit women. Ever. I just took the beating. So the second time I caught her doing it I tried moving out of her house and she first threatened that she would hurt herself and tell the police I did it. I got one load out and when I went back for the rest she stood in the doorway with a hammer in one hand and a knife in the other saying she was going to kill me if I left her. I ran for my truck and got out of there.
I tried the police but they said it was a domestic issue and couldn't help me even with the violence and threats. So as a last resort I went to a place that supposedly helped people with "family violence." Apparently it was labeled as a family violence center for funding purposes but was for women only in practice. When swallowed my pride and told the interviewer my GF physically attacked me and threatened my life with a knife their response was that men are bigger than women so they are not in danger. I said what about threatening to kill me with a knife in her hand and a hammer in the other. They said that I was never in danger because I had the option to leave the situation. The point of the story is that in American society I can say that men who are victims have nowhere to go. Nobody to turn to. That was my experience.
I ended up homeless for a while because of this situation. I couldn't even go into my own home and police refused to escort me inside to get my clothes and ect. She also had my car. All I had was a work truck to use during this time.
I hatched a plan to get my car back. I knew what time she had a medical appointment so I was going to use my spare key to take my car out of the parking lot. On the day of her appointment I jumped in the car and it wouldn't start. She took the coil wire off and took it with her. She had help. Anyways I was bending over the engine looking and was attacked from behind by the crazy ex. She was beating the hell out of me in the parking garage. I was trying to get away and she was holding my hair and hitting me from behind. I wasn't defending myself and she was going absolutely nuts. I got a few steps up the stars going to the next level when I had enough. I turned around and for the first and only time I hit a woman I slapped her on the side of the head. Boy was that effective. She instantly stopped the assault and started crying. She was no longer the bully in charge. Anyways she bolted to the security office of the medical center and told the police there that I assaulted her.
Moments later two young University of Utah police officers cuff and stuff me all the while talking smack about me being a woman beater and pathetic excuse of a man. I get to the police station and got interviewed by an older officer in charge. I told him what happened and he gave me a chance to prove it. There was pulled out hair on the back of my head and when I took my shirt off there were scratches and red marks all over my back but nothing on the front. When the officer reviewed the security video he saw what she did and dismissed the report.
Since then I have changed my belief that woman should never be hit by a man. I agree with feminists that women should always be treated equally and I include defending oneself against physical violence perpetrated by woman. Men are not punching bags. Nobody is. Just make damn sure it's all on video and don't hit any more than you have to in order to stop the assault.
gracetoglory5020
My heart goes out to men, very much. I love men, they are so beautiful. I also was not allowed to cry and even now, 40yrs later, I still find it hard to cry. I am a female and I do appreciate that although I was not allowed to cry, because I associate with women, there is indeed the acceptance and encouragement for me to safely share my feelings if I so desire. I know men would rarely be afforded the same opportunity. I hope the men that are suffering can be granted the same opportunity.

I've frequently heard the argument that only a select few CTs like Limitless and Anti-gravity can have Cursed Technique Reversals (which was never stated) because some CTs just aren't reversible. To that, I feel like some people need to use some imagination. Hence why I've made a list of some CTR ideas I came up with. I didn't include cursed spirits and my excuse is that they will die upon even attempting to make RCE (it's actually cus im lazy and is trying to cut corners) the list might also be lacking in Culling Games characters cus I'm not too familiar with the stuff in culling games (i'm an all over the place reader) with that, lets begin
Boogie Woogie Instead of clapping and swapping, the user swaps first, then claps. If they dont clap, it will keep draining RCE until they do. if the user runs out of RCE, the requirement will automatically force them to convert CE into RCE, and if they run out of CE as well, it'll mess up their inner circuitry severely, permanently reducing their jujutsu capabilities to that of a regular civilian. thus this ability should be used carefully and at the right times or in an emergency. When utilized effectively, it can be used to catch opponents off-guard when they are expecting to hear a clap first, or to get out of situations where you don't have that 1 second to spare for clapping and needs to react instantly.
Ratio I had 2 ideas and can't decide which one's better so I will list both, there is an offense oriented one and a defense oriented one Offense: the 3:7 point becomes a strong point where hitting that spot does reduced damage to the target. However, the six other points all become weak points that you can score critical strikes off of. A quick combo that strikes multiple of those points in quick succession would deal extreme amounts of damage that will allow you to instantly decimate almost any target. Defense: the user applies ratio to themselves, giving them a weak point in return for greatly strengthening the rest of their body. only the user can see their own ratio (though high IQ opponents can make approximations) The user can also freely switch the weak point between the 3 margin or the 7 margin, which keeps opponents guessing as well as prevent the user from getting oneshotted in certain cases.
Uraume's CT Steam manipulation. The user can manipulate extremely high temperature steam that can instantly set things on fire on contact. Also due to the extreme temperatures, the steam would normally be highly dispersed, but the user can manipulate it to pack tightly together so that it appears like regular steam in order to conceal its destructive potential, as well as vaporize or explode things on contact.
10 Shadows 10 Reflections. The user can use the shadow of their shikigami to summon their "reflection". These reflections look similar to the original shikigami but have reversed abilities. However they are only usable when the regular shikigami is also out and their movements closely mirror the original, thus limiting what the user may be able to do with them. Below are the abilities of some of the reflections Nue - Nullifies electricity-like phenomena on contact Max Elephant - Its trunk can suck up small objects and non-solids over a fairly wide area Toad - forms a linked "portal" system between the reflection and the original by swallowing things and spitting them back out Rabbit Escape - a single rabbit that can create decoys of the user Great Serpent - a snake that can shrink itself to the size of this period . When shrunk, the snake's presence also becomes less noticeable, allowing it to stay hidden. Similar to how you can capture people by putting them inside the snake, you can send the snake to slither inside your opponent and cause internal damage, especially by returning to their original size. Basically the ant-man strategy. Round Deer - Constantly replenishes the user's CE instead of performing RCT. Piercing Ox - The longer it stays still, the stronger its next attack becomes. The downside is that due to the movements of the shadow and reflections closely mirroring each other and that they both need to be out at the same time, it's hard to properly utilize both the regular piercing ox and the reflection at the same time. Mahoraga - instead of adaptations giving mahoraga an advantage, they give the opponent a permanent disadvantage. Also when one mahoraga receives a stimulus, the other mahoraga will also learn about the same stimulus, allowing them to both make adaptations for something that only one of them experienced. Having both mahoragas pumping out their adaptations side by side would be able to achieve insane effects.
Blood Manipulation Marrow manipulation. The user is able to control their own marrow as well as the qualities and quantity of the blood they produce. The user is also able to "de-age" blood to convert them into even more marrow outside their body to produce even more blood. Marrow created this way will passively produce insane amounts of blood at virtually no cost until either destroyed or they rot away.
Projection Sorcery Instead of mapping out their next 24 frames of movement, the user will instead have to retrace their previous 24 frames of movement. Doing so will also cause time to rewind. Failing would cause you to get frozen as usual as well as stop the rewind at its current point. The only people who know time was rewinded or the original events of the rewinded time is the user and the target (if they tagged someone for the offensive version) Just like the original, this move is spammable (though less so than the original) however it is way trickier to pull off. When using the tag/offensive version, the user can alternate between the lapse and the reverse to keep opponents guessing and get them to mess up.
Cursed Spirit Manipulation The user is able to free cursed spirits from the effects of CSM to give them the opportunity to keep growing. The user is also able to take cursed spirits out of themselves and plant it into others instead. This ability works on sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. When planted into someone else, the cursed spirit will become loyal to their new host, however they are still loyal to the CSM user as well, and their loyalty to the CSM user takes complete priority over that of their host.
Kashimo's CT The user becomes "chargeable" They gain the ability to absorb electricity and convert it into vitality.
Tengen's Immortality Instead of Tengen absorbing a Star Plasma Vessel, the SPV will absorb Tengen and become the new dominant personality, as well as inheriting Tengen's memories, powers, and binding vows.
Yuta's Mimicry If the user can be thought of as a DVD/CD which you can burn/engrave CTs into, the CTR will allow the user to upload those CTs onto their target. The user needs to be careful with this ability as allies may not have the necessary physiology to withstand this process.
Puppet Manipulation Allows the user to use their curse energy to control their own biological body like a puppet. This is like as if the user could use telekinesis on themselves. The user's use of reinforcing their body with CE also becomes way more efficient and effective.
Hakari's CT Instead of manifesting objects from a Rom-Com manga, the user manifests objects from one that is dark and sad, like nooses, razors, or guns for example. When using domain expansion, everytime the user fails to get jackpot, it'll damage the opponent's mental health(part of the sure-hit), as the opponent is having to deal with the dark side of a gambling addiction. If the opponent fails to get jackpot within a certain number of attempts, they will commit suicide (this is a rule/sure-hit attack, they WILL do it) This is avoidable with the use of anti-domain techniques but you will need to do it before you become too depressed from the previous effect. If it hits jackpot, the domain will break right then and there, but the user can retry later when the cooldown ends. Just because you win once, doesn't mean your gambling addiction goes away.
Ui Ui's CT Instead of the user having to personally be there to teleport something away or to teleport himself somewhere, the user will teleport valid targets to himself. The range of this ability covers nearly half of Earth. I haven't decided yet on what makes something a valid target.
Auspicious Beasts Summon Acting as a spirit medium like usual, instead of the user channeling the auspicious beasts to his location, he instead will enter the spirit realm themselves. The user will be able to move around as though he was astral-projecting, and no one would be able to detect their location within the spirit realm. Also if the user is to use lapse while in this state, the beasts will be launched from the location of his spirit body rather than his physical body. From the perspective of his opponent, it would look like the attacks are coming out of nowhere.
Granny Ogami's Seance Technique Instead of channeling the body/soul information of someone who is dead, the user channels the body/soul information of someone who is still alive. This ability is much more reusable than the lapse variant.
Jiro Asakawa's CT It's the guy that takes less damage if you hit him hard, takes more damage if you hit him lightly. The reverse lets you apply this rule to others instead, allowing you to deal massive damage to others with little effort.
Gakuganji's Guitar CT Allows the user to absorb attacks in a Guitar Hero kinda way. The 'streak' also riles up the user and empowers their lapse attacks.
Construction Came up with two and I cant decide.

1. Allows the creation of anti-matter
2. Allows the user to convert physical matter into CE. The user is also able to automatically feed this CE straight into their lapse, essentially performing a reconstruction that is less taxing than using the lapse by itself.

Miguel's Hakuna Lana The user weakens themself but strengthens their allies. The longer the user remains in battle, the stronger these effects become. The range of this ability is extremely short, with a radius of only a measly 6 feet. Also, the buff isn't distributed amongst their allies, instead all allies in the circle will receive the full buff. Thus, the more allies you can pack into your circle (while continuing to fight by the way) the more you get out of this ability. Downside is that this ability is very risky for the user.
Alright guys that's what I got for right now.

to begin with my 6 y/o has never really been a big eater and is picky. for the past month he’s been telling us his throat hurt but i just thought it was a cold coming, for the past 2 days he has not been wanting to eat anything because it hurts his throat.
i just thought he was making it up just to get out of eating bc we make all of our kids eat 3x time a day
yesterday we was on a vacation but had to cut it short bc of his tantrum, he kept screaming “my throat hurt, i thjnk im bout to throat up” and was just spitting out saliva. We gave him water to drink but he was scared to drink because “he was going to throw up” he eventually started holding his spit in his mouth bc he was scared to swallow, when he swallow it “hurt”. What could it be? GERD?
i just dont know what to do anymore!!! im trying not to get frustrated.
im at the ER as im typing… trying to figured out what wrong.

I’m not sure what this is. I was feeling very depressed and just began writing, I thought I’d share it here. I stopped living with my mother at the age of 1, the day after my first birthday to be exact, after she had tried to murder me. This was after months of neglect and starvation. I still went to see her on weekends regularly and the abuse only continued, I didnt tell my dad. I just wanted a mother.
Uhh warning mentions of abuse??
From the moment of my birth, a silent condemnation greeted me. I emerged into a world where my presence was not welcomed but endured, where the tender arms of a mother failed to cradle me with warmth but instead pushed me away with cold indifference. Rejection, a bitter pill I swallowed with every breath, became the foundation of my existence, shaping the contours of my soul with its relentless grip.
Guilt, a heavy cloak draped over my shoulders, weighed me down as I searched for reasons behind her rejection. What had I done wrong in the moments before I even drew my first breath? What sin had I committed to deserve such disdain? The burden of self-blame crushed me, leaving scars on my fragile psyche, leading to scars on the flesh and skin she had formed of her own womb that would never fully heal.
Anger, a raging inferno burning within, consumed me as I watched other children bask in the love of their mothers. Why was I denied the simple pleasure of a mother's touch, a mother's smile? The one thing every child is taught from the moment they enter the world is that a mother is the one thing that would never harm them. Never cast them aside or fail to protect them. That was not the case. The flames of resentment seared my heart, fueling a bitterness that tainted every interaction, every relationship, with its toxic presence. Jealousy. I would watch on throughout my childhood at school trips, birthday parties, sleepovers watching television. Children with their mother’s so happy and loving- uncaring, blissfully basking in the unconditional love of their maker, not knowing anything else. Not knowing the sharp sting of a cold hand against their skin, the narrowed eyes and harsh words of the person you instinctively go to seeking refuge. His touch. His touch as she watched, as she allowed it to happen. She feels it too. She felt it too. She wants me to feel it too. And I will, I do- for her, dear ma.
It was foreign to me. The love of an elder woman. As I grew and went through the stages in life, relationships with teachers became less doting and more casual as they finally became more lenient with their adult jokes and overall conversation now learning we were forming our own ideas, minds, personalities- it made me squirm. That soft laughter, sweet smiles, gentle words of encouragement and praise from women whom would soon forget I existed once was all said and done. I craved it. I did everything I could to get one more smile, one more word of love. I hated it. Those cravings turned sick, my desires grew stronger. I longed for an older woman to hurt me as she had once done, as now she doesnt even care enough to do that much. I repulse her, disgust her, she wants me dead. I want me dead. She can kill me I’d let her! Mother! Free me!
Hate, a venomous serpent coils around my soul, poisoning my thoughts with its whispers of vengeance. Those words of praise that i so often saut out to fix me, make me whole. It only made me sink deeper and deeper into a spiral of disgust and repulsion not only to her but to myself. How dare she reject me, her own flesh and blood? How dare she abandon me to a life of loneliness and despair? The seed of hatred took root in the fertile soil of my wounded heart, blossoming into a thorny garden of resentment that choked out any semblance of compassion or forgiveness.
Solace, a distant mirage shimmering on the horizon, remained forever out of reach. No matter how hard I try to find peace within myself, the specter of rejection haunts me at every turn, casting a dark shadow over my hopes and dreams. I am a wanderer in the desert of my own existence, thirsting for the oasis of acceptance that eluded me like a cruel joke.
Acceptance, a fleeting illusion dancing just beyond my grasp, mocked me with its elusive presence. No matter how much I long to embrace myself, to love myself, the echoes of my mother's rejection reverberate hrough the chambers of my heart, drowning out the faint whispers of self-worth with their deafening roar. I accept her, and her hatred, for I am a product of it.

I (27m) have been trying to get myself in a better mental state. For some context, it’s been almost a year since I swallowed a bottle of pills and a fifth of whiskey. I was never taught how to deal with what was going on in my head. I was always told to suck it up and be a man. And a year ago, it came to ahead when I tried to take my own life. To make a long story short, my father never cared about me, no one ever cared about what I had to say growing up or now, and I’ve had a long string of relationships that have ended in manipulation, abuse, and betrayal. For a year, I have been trying to surround myself with friends and family, going to the gym, eating healthier, and I’ve even seen three different therapists. But it seems like no matter what I do, at the end of the day when I’m laying in bed, I just think of how much easier it would’ve been if I had died that night. There are people in my life who I love very much who I would never want to hurt. But I just can’t get out of my own head. I have PTSD from when two of my exes were violent and forced themselves on me. And I have trust issues because of all the narcissist that I’ve dated. This is what my therapists have told me. No matter what advice they give or how well they listen it never seems to help. I have a two year-old niece and a newborn nephew that I really want to see grow up, but it feels like I’m getting closer and closer to having another night like the one I had a year ago. I am doing my absolute best to make sure I’m OK but I just can’t do it.

I've always been bound to death.
On my eighth birthday, a shadow strode into my house and shot me and my family dead. I remember it vividly, every detail, every angle, etched and stained and carved into my memory.
I sat very still with my knees to my chest, my gaze glued to my siblings.
Lily and PJ looked like they were sleeping, and I could almost believe it.
I didn't look at the shadow.
From the comfort of my knees, I waited for my brother to lift his head.
But his body was so limp, so still, every part of him faltering. My sister’s head was nestled in his shoulder, thick beads of red running down her face.
They're just sleeping.
I could tell myself they were— as long as I didn't look at the splatter of scarlet staining the back of the couch and pooling at their feet.
BANG.
Mom’s body dropped onto the ground.
I lunged forwards, slamming my hands over my ears.
BANG.
PJ’s head slumped forwards, a teasing smile still frozen on his lips.
BANG.
Lily gently tipped into PJ, like she was going to sleep.
Before she closed her eyes, Mom told me to run.
I can't remember how long I stayed under the shattered remnants of Mom’s favorite table. The shadow was waiting for me to move, to make a noise.
I watched booted feet crunch through glass, getting closer and closer, and slowly, fight or flight began to take over.
Making it halfway across the living room, my palms slick with my mother’s blood, I thought I was going to live.
Cruel fingers wound their way through my hair and shoved me to my knees. I remember the phantom legs of a spider creeping down the back of my neck when the shadow with no face dragged the barrel of his gun down my spine.
“Turn around.”
The shadow had a voice.
When I didn't move, the protruding metal stabbed into my neck.
“Turn around, kid!”
I did, very slowly.
Behind him, my siblings still weren't moving.
They were asleep.
Lily was still smiling, strawberry blonde ringlets stained red.
I couldn't see PJ’S face anymore.
BANG.
I didn't feel the gunshot.
I didn't feel anything.
Looking down, I glimpsed slowly spreading red blossoming like a flower.
It felt like being cut from strings.
I hit the ground, just like my mother, my body felt heavy and wrong.
Paralysed.
I remember being unable to scream, unable to cry, the salty taste of metal filling my mouth. It was like being winded. Rolling onto my side, all I could see was flickering candlelight.
The air was thick, so hard to breathe.
I rolled onto my back trying to suck in air.
The shadow took a step back, opened the front door, and bled into the night.
I don't remember the pain, and I don't remember dying. I couldn't breathe, couldn't conjure words in my mouth.
I felt warm and sticky, lying in my own blood.
I think I tried to move.
But I was so tired.
I’m not sure what death feels like, because it's like going to sleep.
I remember my last shuddering breaths, a lulling darkness beginning to swallow me up. I don't know why I wasn't afraid.
Oblivion almost felt like I was sinking into lukewarm depths on a Summer’s day.
Oblivion wasn't pain, and there was a peaceful inevitability to it.
It was endless nothing, a nothing I found myself gravitating towards. But before I could envelope myself in that darkness, it was spitting me back out.
The next thing I knew, I was in a white room, a slow beeping sound tearing me from slumber. I had a vague memory of slow spreading roses blossoming across my shirt, like summer flowers blooming.
Everything was white.
The walls, the ceiling, and my clothes.
Sensation hit me in slow waves.
Exhaustion.
I felt it tightening its grip around my brain, dragging me back onto a mountain of pillows when I tried to jump up. My Aunt May was sitting next to me on a plastic chair, her warm fingers entangled in mine. Aunt May and Mom were practically twins, with the same thick red hair and pale skin.
Mom wore her hair in a casual ponytail, while May preferred a strict bun.
I had to bite back the urge to yank my hand away.
Aunt May was asleep, used tissues filling her lap.
There was a nurse pottering around, checking my vitals and prodding my arms. My eyes felt heavy. I had to blink several times to keep myself awake.
“Charlie?”
The nurse’s voice was like wind-chimes.
I pretended not to notice her forced lipstick smile, the way she stood with her arms folded, staring at me like I was one of my cousin’s experiments. “You were in an accident, sweetie,” the nurse spoke up. I could see her trembling hands. “Just, um, try and rest, okay?”
I wanted to ask where my family was, but I already knew the answer.
I think she knew that too.
“You died, Charlie.” The nurse’s voice was eerily cold. “You were dead for thirteen minutes.”
She took slow steps towards me, her eyes growing frenzied, like she couldn't understand me, like I was a puzzle she could not solve– and it was driving her crazy. I could see it in her twitching hands, her wobbling lips that were trying and failing to appear stoic.
“In fact, I just pulled you out of the morgue, honey. I opened up your body bag that I had just zipped up, and told your aunt that you were a miracle I just… can’t understand.” The nurse sounded like she was trying to choke down a laugh, or maybe a sob.
“Charlotte, you were pronounced dead at 3:02am from a gunshot wound to the chest.” Taking a slow, sobering breath, the nurse tried to smile. “The bullet went through the right ventricle of your heart and severely damaged your left lung, rendering you unable to breathe. Your heart stopped, and after four attempts to resuscitate, we called it.”
Something slimy wound its way up my throat when she began to pace the room. “I… did all the paperwork. It took me two minutes. Your death certificate was signed, and your body was taken to the morgue to be prepped for transportation. Then I had my lunch. Tuna salad with a protein milkshake. I’m not a fan of the chocolate flavor.”
She shook her head. “Anyway, when I came back to you, you were awake inside your body bag.” Her voice was starting to break. “You were…um, alive, and asked me for apple soda.”
The nurse moved closer, and yet kept her distance.
I could feel myself moving back, panic writhing through me.
“So.” The nurse spoke calmly. “How the fuck are you still alive, Charlie?”
I think I passed out after that.
When I woke up again, my head a lot less heavier, the nurse was gone.
Slowly, my foggy brain began to find itself and connect dots.
My mouth was dry, full of cotton.
There was a sudden tightness, a sharp and cruel sting in my wrists.
Something sharp was protruding into my flesh, and no matter how many times I violently wrenched my arm, it was stuck. It didn't feel right to be able to breathe so easily.
I knew the second I woke that my Mom was dead.
Lily and PJ were dead, and it was like losing them all over again.
As clarity came over me, I found my voice, a strangled cry escaping my lips.
“Get it out.” I whispered in a shrill cry.
Tugging at the IV in my wrist, I tried to yank the needle from my skin.
“Get it out!” I shrieked, my gaze glued to the tiny spots of blood staining the insertion point.
I could see it again.
So much blood.
Mom was curled up on the floor, lying in slow spreading red that wouldn't stop, seeping across her beaded rug.
She was all over me, slick on my skin and caked in my fingernails.
I couldn't wash her off of me.
“You're okay, Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice came from my right, stabling me to reality.
The world started to move again, started to make sense again, when she cupped my cheeks and told me to breathe. When I opened my mouth to ask where my family were, she lightly shook her head and I swallowed my words. Aunt May handed me a glass of water, and I drained it in one gulp.
She told me I was a miracle.
Aunt May didn't say much, and when she did, she broke into sobs.
Her eyes were raw from crying, clinging onto me, her shuddery voice reassuring me that I was going to be okay.
She told me I would be living with her from now on, before wrapping me into a hug and leaving to get coffee.
Once my aunt was gone, another nurse came to prod my IV.
I tried to sleep, but the uncomfortable tightness of the needle sticking into my skin and the sterile white lights in my eyes made it impossible. I waited for grief to catch up with me, drowning me in a hollow oblivion I wouldn't be able to claw myself out of. But I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel angry.
I wanted to know why my family were dead.
I wanted to know why I was breathing, and their skin was ice cold.
Rotting.
The sudden image of maggots crawling up my brother’s nose sent me lurching into a sitting position, my stomach heaving. Reaching for my glass of water, it was empty. The sensation of throwing up felt familiar, almost comforting.
Mom was always with me when I was sick, holding my hair back and lulling my hysteria with reassuring murmurs.
I was frowning at the trash can by the door, my cotton candy brain trying to figure out if I would be able to make it in time, when a small voice drifted from the doorway, startling me.
“I don't want you to come live with us.”
My cousin was peeking through the door, hiding behind a shock of dark brown curls. Jude was the only brunette in our family. The rest of us were redheads.
I wasn't sure why he was dressed up like a ghost, draped in a white cloak that was way too big for him. Jude was a weird kid. His mother, and my auntie, had inherited the family house, so in his mind, that made him superior.
Jude made it clear he didn't like his cousins, refusing to let us play with him and banning us from family gatherings.
When the adults were drinking cocktails and losing their awareness, Jude ordered us around. The times we did play with him, our cousin showed us his spider collection, or the raccoon brain he kept in a jar. PJ was convinced our younger cousin was a serial killer. Several months earlier, he'd happily showed us the roadkill he'd been growing bacteria on under his bed.
Jude’s ‘experiments’ were worrying.
He stuffed mushrooms down my brother’s ears while he was sleeping, to, and I quote, “Recreate The Last Of Us.”
When Lily had a nosebleed during Thanksgiving dinner, Jude collected all her bloody tissues and refused to tell us where he'd put them, and what he had done with them. Fast-forward two months, and I found them under a nest of spiders. Jude was trying to adapt the spiders to be able to feed on human blood. I was surprised my cousin hadn't immediately demanded to see my siblings’ dead bodies for autopsy.
Jude stepped into the room, shuffling his feet.
“I'm sorry about Lily, PJ, and Aunt Ivy.” He mumbled, glaring at the floor tiles.
My cousin made no move to offer real sympathy, instead speaking to the floor.
“But I don't want you to come live with us.” Jude lifted his head, looking me dead in the eye. “I don't like you, Charlie. I want you to stay away.”
Before I could reply, he stepped back like I was diseased.
“You should be dead.” Jude grumbled.
He scowled at me, getting my age purposely wrong as usual before running off.
“Happy 68th birthday.”
I was six months older than him.
In Jude’s eyes, I was ready for retirement.
Still, though, my cousin was right.
I was stone cold dead, and then I was somehow alive.
Which was wrong.
Growing up, I realized Death was not so subtly attempting to fix his mistake.
It started small. I'd choke on things I wasn't supposed to choke on.
Chips.
Candy.
Ice cream.
Aunt May had to perform the heimlich manoeuvre when I choked on a piece of chicken. I thought I was just really unlucky, but then I locked myself in a freezer that didn't have a lock, and almost drowned in the local swimming pool, catching my foot in stray netting.
At the summer fair, Jude convinced me to try apple bobbing, only for my head to conveniently get stuck underwater.
It started to make sense.
I was supposed to die with my family that night, and death was out to get me.
Death started to get clever, changing his tactic. Instead of using everyday things to try to kill me, he sent reinforcements.
I turned twelve years old, and my aunt threw me a huge party, inviting all my classmates. Aunt May was rich, rich.
Mom never explained it, but our grandparents left everything to May.
The house was like a palace, a labyrinth of floors I was yet to explore, and two swimming pools.
I was in the kitchen cutting myself a slice of cake, when, out of nowhere, a dead boy came rushing at me with one of my aunt’s favorite kitchen knives.
A dead boy who I immediately recognised.
Wren Oliver.
Several years prior, he'd gone missing from his parents' yard. The town launched a full investigation, only to find his body in a ditch a week later.
So, Death had sent a footsoldier.
Hiding under a hooded sweatshirt, Wren appeared older, like he had grown up with me. But there was a startling vacancy in his expression that drew the breath from my lungs, freezing me in place. Wren’s death was announced as an accident, though his wounds suggested the opposite, dried blood smearing his right temple and a cavernous hole in his chest, his clothes painted, stained, in bright red, glued in sticky mounds clinging to him.
The boy’s eyes were wild, feral, like an animal.
His hair was longer, a mess of reddish curls matted to his forehead.
Lip split into a demented giggle.
I remember taking a slow step back, my gaze glued to the knife.
Wren’s fingers were wrapped around the handle like he knew exactly how to use it, how to plunge it into my heart and kill me for good. He moved like a predator, zero self awareness or recognition, only driven to kill me.
The dead boy prided himself in slow, intimidating steps, shoving me against the wall and dragging the blade of the knife down the curve of my throat.
His eyes confused me, writhing with hatred that was artificial, programmed into him as Death’s official soldier.
He didn't speak, only smiled, revelling in my fear. I could tell it thrilled him, my trembling hands, my sharp, heavy breaths I couldn't control. Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited to finally die.
I waited for the pain, and to lose my breath once again.
But death was playing with me.
When I opened my eyes, the dead boy was gone, and I was on my knees, screaming.
“Wren Oliver is trying to kill me!" I managed to hiss.
My aunt knelt in front of me, her expression crumpling.
*Sweetie,” She spoke softly, squeezing my hands. Aunt May was trying to appear calm for my sake, but I could tell she was scared, her frantic eyes searching mine. “Wren Oliver is dead.”
The kids surrounding me started to giggle, whispering among themselves.
In the corner of my eye, my cousin was leaning against the door, mid eye roll.
When my aunt was ushering kids back to the pool, Jude came to crouch in front of me. Ever since I started living with him, he'd made sure to keep his distance.
This time, though, Jude leaned uncomfortably close, a sparkle in his eyes I had never seen before. Inclining his head, he rocked back and forth on his heels, prodding me in the forehead.
“If you see the dead boy again, can you tell me?” His lips curved into a smile.
“I did see him.” I gritted out. “I’m not lying.”
Jude shrugged. “I never said you didn't,” he lowered his voice into a whisper, “I wanna know when you see him again.”
“Why?”
His lips curved into a smirk.
“So, I can catch him.”
My cousin got closer, his breath tickling my cheek.
“I seeeeeeee dead people.”
After that incident, death left me alone for a while.
I was fifteen, walking through the forest with a friend, catching fireflies in bell jars. Aunt May was lucky to live so close to the forest, the entrance just outside her back door. When we were littles, PJ would drag Lily and I down the trail to escape Jude’s weird experiments.
I decided to invite Jem Littlewood on a summer walk.
Jem was cute, but in a dorky way. He was chronically clumsy, and dressed like he'd been spat out of a John Hughes movie. We hiked all the way to the end of the river and had a picnic, watching the sun set over the horizon. I was having conflicting feelings for this guy.
Jem was obsessed with fireflies.
Though he seemed more interested in photographing them than me.
The guy couldn't seem to sit still, jumping to his feet to marvel at tiny specks of light dancing in the air.
“I'm just going to take photos!” Jem beamed, holding up his camera.
I had to bite back the urge to say, “Don't you have enough photos?”
I nodded, and he turned and sprinted back down the trail.
Before his footsteps ground to a sudden halt.
At first, I thought he was snapping polaroids.
When I got closer, though, blinking in the eerie dark, I caught something.
Bending down, I picked up a bell jar still spilling fireflies.
Further down the trail, Jem was lying crumpled in the dirt, his camera smashed to pieces next to him, blood running in thick rivulets down his temple. There he was. Leaning against a tree, his arms folded, was the ghost boy. Wren Oliver was growing up with me. Now, a teenager, and yet his face was carved into something else entirely, more of a monster, slight points to his ears and too-sharp teeth, eyes ignited.
Wren didn't look like a ghost boy anymore.
Death had dressed him in shackles of ivy, a crown of glass and bone forced onto his head, entangled in his curls. Death was torturing him. Wren’s flesh was its canvas, and every time I got away, he was punished, painting his failures across scarred flesh. I should have been running for my life, but I was mesmerised by each symbol cruelly carved into his neck.
The boy did a slow head incline, like he couldn't believe I was standing in front of him.
His slow spreading smile caught me off guard.
I remembered how to run, stumbling over my feet.
But I couldn't move.
The burning hatred that death had filled him with, was stronger, hollowing him out completely. I managed two shaky steps, before I felt him, an unearthly force winding its way around my spine. This time, he didn't hesitate.
I watched his mouth move, a single curve of his upper lip that wrenched my body from my control, slamming me against a tree. There was something around my throat, choking the breath from my lungs, a thick fog spreading over my eyes. Following his mouth curving into silent letters, I could feel my feet slowly leaving the ground, my legs dangling.
I was floating.
Hovering off of the ground, suspended by his words.
Through half lidded eyes, I caught the glint of a blade between his fist, but I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
He was drowning me, bleeding into my blood, spider webbing and expanding in my brain without moving a muscle.
Instead, the ghost boy stood silently, running his thumb down the teeth of his knife while he ripped my lungs apart.
It was like suffocating, sinking into that peaceful oblivion I met at eight years old.
This time, though, the darkness was starving.
“Charlie?”
My eyes found daylight, a scream clawing out of my mouth.
“Charlie, it's past curfew!”
Wren flinched, his stoic expression crumpling.
The dead boy’s lips moved again, this time in a curse.
Fuck.
“Charlotte!”
Staggering back, Wren’s eyes widened and the suffocating hold on me severed.
His head snapped in the direction my aunt was coming from.
“Charlie, answer me right now.”
He hesitated, his bare feet pivoting in the dirt, like he was considering finishing me off. Wren studied me with lazy eyes, sucking on his bottom lip. When my aunt's footsteps got louder, branches snapping under her shoes, something contorted in the boy’s face.
Fear.
I guessed the boy wasn't expecting other humans to intrude.
Wren fell over himself, shuffling on his hands and knees, before diving to his feet. When he turned and ran, I was released, slipping to the ground, trying and failing to draw in breath. I barely felt the impact, only a dull thudding pain. I could hear the ghost boy’s footsteps, his uneven, shuddery breaths as he catapulted into a run.
Under a late setting sun, I watched his dancing shadow disappear into the trees.
Mission unsuccessful, I guessed.
When I was fully conscious, Aunt May was checking over Jem, helping him sit up.
“Where did he go?” I managed to get out, scanning the darkness for Wren.
“He's okay, just concussed.” May whispered, dialling 911.
My aunt applied a dressing to Jem’s wound, ignoring the boy’s hisses.
“Keep still.” she murmured, smoothing his bandaid. “What happened, Charlotte?”
“She pushed me over.” Jem groaned, shuffling away from me. When my aunt told him to stay calm, he straightened up, leaning against the tree. “The psycho bitch tried to fucking kill me!”
When my aunt's gaze flicked to me, I shook my head.
“It was Wren Oliver.” I gritted, teetering on hysteria. I could tell she didn't believe me, but I couldn't stop myself. I prodded at my throat, clawing for the indentations where his phantom fingers snaked around my neck, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
But there was nothing.
I could feel my mind starting to unravel. I nodded to my disgruntled classmate trying to dodge my aunt’s prodding.
“Ow, ow, ow! That stings!
“He knocked Jem out.” I managed. “Then he tried to kill me.”
Jem surprised me with a scoff. “You're seriously blaming your psychotic break on a dead kid?”
Aunt May pursed her lips, motioning for Jem to be quiet. Judging from her face, however, she agreed with the boy.
May forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Okay. Can you, uh, describe the boy to me, Charlotte?”
“He was wearing a crown,” I said, “And he looked my age.”
Aunt May cocked her head, and I saw real worry, like she was trying not to freak out. Jem made a snorting noise.
“I'm sorry, he was wearing a crown?”
“Yes!” I insisted, getting progressively more frustrated.
I tried to jump up, only for my aunt to gently lower me back down. “I know it sounds crazy, but death has sent Wren Oliver to kill me, just like my family. He tried to kill me when I was twelve, too!”
Jem let out a bitter laugh. “Your niece is a fucking wackadoodle.”
Aunt May’s eyes darkened. She grabbed my shoulders, her nails stabbing into my skin. “Charlie, I want you to listen to me, okay?” When my eyes found the rapidly darkening sky, my aunt forced me to look at her.
“Charlotte!”
She was as scared as me, her voice shuddering.
“Wren Oliver is dead.” My aunt said firmly, shaking me. Even then, though, I wasn't even looking at her. I was trying to find his ignited eyes lighting up the dark. “Wren died at eight years old in a terrible accident, and you can't keep using him as an excuse for your mental trauma.” There was something twitching in her expression I was trying to make sense of. When I risked a look at Jem, the boy was staring at me dazedly– like I really was crazy.
Aunt May pressed her face into my shoulder, and I could feel her tears soaking into my shirt. She was trying to hold it together, trying to understand.
“Charlie, I know you lost your family,” she whispered. “But you and Wren Oliver are not the same. You survived, and he didn't.” Her voice splintered.
“You need to come to terms with that, okay?”
When I didn't respond, she pinched my chin, forcing me to look at her.
“Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice turned cold. “I ignored this when you were a kid, but if you continue to use this poor boy as a coping mechanism, I will have no choice but to send you to a specialist.”
When Jem was taken away by paramedics, Aunt May held my hand, squeezing my fingers for dear life.
I caught her gaze scanning the tree's around us, delving into twisting oblivion. Every little noise sent her twisting around. She was looking for something.
“I'm going to get you help.” Aunt May said in a low murmur when we were back at the house. Jude was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. I could feel his penetrating gaze burning into the back of my head.
Aunt May set a cup of cocoa on the table.
“No more fairytales.”
By the time I was eighteen, I had bitten three therapists.
They refused to believe that death was coming to reclaim my soul, and was using a dead boy to do his dirty work.
For my 16th birthday, I braced myself to come face to face with Wren Oliver’s ghost.
I wasn't even in town, staying at a friend's house.
But dead boys, and especially dead boys moulded into Death’s personal soldiers, could materialise anywhere.
I locked every door in the house, and taped up my friend’s window.
Nothing happened.
On my seventeenth birthday, I was sick in bed with gastritis.
Still no ghost boy.
Death seemed to have finally left me alone.
On my eighteenth birthday, I was stuffing books in my locker when my cousin popped up out of nowhere, scowling as usual. After an unexpected growth spurt and losing a tonne of baby fat, my cousin had scaled the high school hierarchy, swapping his weird experiments for a varsity jacket and experimenting with his sexuality.
The two of us had come to an unspoken truce.
I kept quiet about his spider collection to his popular friends, and he tolerated my existence until I left for college.
“Your surprise party is cancelled.”
Jude leaned against my locker, running a hand through thick dark hair tucked under a baseball cap. Jude never admitted it, but he was definitely embarrassed of being the odd one out.
My siblings may be dead, but they were still redheads.
I pulled off his cap with a smile, throwing it in his face. “Sure it is.”
My cousin’s eyes widened. He lost his slick bravado, grabbing for his cap.
“Hey!”
According to my cousin, my party was unexpectedly cancelled every year.
I wasn't sure if it was his weird superiority complex, or just plain jealousy, but it was getting exhausting.
Jude followed me down the hallway, matching my stride.
“Can you just not come home tonight?”
I quickened my pace. “It's only a party. I'm having some friends over, and no, we won't go anywhere near your room.”
“No, I mean.” Jude stepped in front of me, and for the first time in a while, he wasn't trying to hide disdain for me.
His dark eyes pinned me in place for a moment, the world around us coming to a halt. Sound bled away, and all I heard were his slow breaths. There was something there, an unexplainable twitch in his eyes and lips, that twisted my gut.
Jude stepped closer, his lip curling. He shoved me back, losing his facade.
“Stay the fuck away from the house tonight.” He said, and his voice, his tone, was enough to send shivers creeping down my spine. Jude had always hid behind a ten foot wall in his mind. It was jarring to see something in him finally start to splinter. Fuck. I thought.
This kid had serious Mommy issues.
I blinked, and the world resumed, kids pushing past us.
Jude seemed to catch himself, slipping back under his mask.
“I'm having friends over,” he rolled his eyes, “Your presence will ruin the vibe.”
“It's my birthday?”
He groaned, tipping his head back. “Yes, I know. But–”
“I think you can deal with the attention off of you for one night, Jude.”
“Will Wren Oliver be there too?” Jem Littlewood hollered.
Jude didn't respond for a moment, his lip curling.
“Shut the fuck up.” He spat at Jem, who immediately backed down. With an audience this time, Jude forced an award winning smile. “Fine.” His lips split into a grin I knew he hated. My cousin clamped his hand on my shoulder, hard enough to hurt. I could feel his fingers pinching the material of my jacket. “Have it your way, dude.”
Jude backed away with a two fingered salute.
“Happy 78th birthday!”
In a sense, I wish I listened to my cousin.
My party was a success, sort of.
Four of us, a crate of beers, and no sign of my cousin.
I was mildly tipsy, sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling my legs in the water when my friend demanded more beers.
I was also hungry for cake, so I stumbled inside in search of the goods.
The house was dark, lit up in dazzling blue from the pool's lights reflecting through the windows. Aunt May was in her office on the ground floor, and Jude was getting high in his room. In my drunken state, I found myself marvelling my aunt's house, and how much of it was left unexplored.
For example, in the foyer, past the spiral staircase she’d had custom made, was an elevator I had never questioned.
There was a girl my age standing on the staircase.
She was frozen, mid run, dressed in ragged jeans and t-shirt.
Everything about her stuck out to me, bringing me to a sobering halt.
The girl reminded me of my sister– or at least, if my sister had ever grown up.
I wasn't sure if I was drunk or hallucinating.
Her flower crown was pretty…
Lily had grown wings.
I was slowly moving towards her, a sudden bang sounding from the kitchen.
The bang of something shattering on the floor.
Twisting around, I found myself gravitating towards warm golden light.
The first thing I saw was the refrigerator door hanging open, and someone, no, something, rooting around inside it.
Glued to the spot, I dazedly watched them grab milk, guzzling it down, and then soda, cracking open each can and sucking them dry, before carving their fingers into my birthday cake. But I wasn't looking at the spillage of food seeping across the floor. Instead, my gaze found a crown of antlers, both human and animal bone entangled with dead flowers and human remains glued to a head of familiar matted brown curls.
There was something sticking from battered and bruised flesh, twin gaping slits sliced through a torn shirt resembling glass wings that were not yet formed, reminding me of a butterfly.
Wings.
But not the wings I dreamed of as a kid. These things were unnatural mounds that both did and didn't make sense on a human boy. I could see the trauma of them slicing through his flesh, monstrous, looming things protruding from what was left of a human spine.
Human, and yet I couldn't call his beautifully grotesque face human.
Wren Oliver had grown up with me, now an adult.
Eighteen years old.
His clothes confused me, a single white shirt and shorts.
Wren’s feet were bare, battered and bruised, blood smearing my aunt's tiles.
Angel.
Death had turned his footsoldier, and my future killer, into an angel.
But there was nothing angelic about the dead boy, his body and mind sculpted and moulded into Death’s own.
The boy no longer resembled a human, feral eyes and a manic smile, choking down pieces of cake. His face had been contorted into a monster, gnashing teeth and sharp points in his ears, a sickly tinge to malnourished skin.
And that's when it hit me, watching him stuff himself with food.
Something slimy inched its way up my throat.
The boy didn't move. I don't even think he'd noticed me, gorging himself on anything he could get his hands on.
Chicken, raw bacon, leftover salad.
When he moved onto cupcakes, licking frosting from his fingers, I glimpsed markings on his arms, a language I didn't understand, carved into him.
His wrists were shackled, bound, in entangled iron and vine, iron that was ingrained into his skin, vines and flowers and ivy entangling his bones, that were part of him, polluting his blood. Slowly, my eyes found stab wounds splitting open his torso.
Raw flesh, where his skin had been torched, melting, and then merging, ripped apart and put back together over and over again.
I found his heart, the gaping cavern in his chest where it should be.
And it was.
Marked, carved, and branded with a symbol resembling an X.
Wren Oliver was not dead.
But, just like me, he should have been.
I remember saying his name, my voice slurred slightly.
I didn't drink that much, but I could barely coerce words, my head spinning.
Wren’s neck snapped towards me, his eyes narrowing with resentment I couldn't understand, hatred that seemed to puppeteer him. Slowly tilting his head, the boy’s lips split into a grin, eyes filled, polluted, with mania. I could see where his lips had been stitched shut, and then ripped open.
“Hi.”
He held up his hand in an awkward wave.
When one of my friends stumbled into the kitchen, Wren reacted on impulse.
He picked up a knife from the counter, throwing it like a dart, straight through the guy’s throat.
Something shattered inside my mind.
Ignoring my friend bleeding out, Wren stumbled over himself, abandoning his feast. He took a single step towards me, backing me against the wall, coming so close, close enough for me to feel his very real breath grazing my cheeks. Just like when he was a kid, he traced the teeth of his blade down my throat. I wasn't expecting him to burst out laughing, trembling with hysteria.
His eyes were wild, feral and wrong, almost euphoric.
With what all I could only recognise as relief.
BANG.
I was barely aware of the gunshot.
The bullet went straight through his head, the winged boy hitting the ground.
Dead.
I saw the blood stemming around him in a halo before the bleeding pool faltered, seeping back inside his head.
Like rewinding a VCR.
Wren was dead, and then he was alive.
Wren’s body contorted, his chest inflating.
His gasp for air was painful, strangled, eyes opening wide.
Terrified.
“You fucking idiot.”
Jude’s voice sent me twisting around.
My cousin stood in the exact same robes he wore as a child.
The world tipped off kilter, and I was on my knees, then my stomach.
I sunk to the floor, my thoughts swimming.
Jude’s murmur followed me, creeping into the dark.
“I told you not to come home.”
I can't remember how long I was unconscious for.
When I woke, I was dressed in an evening gown, a dress that used to be my mother’s.
My vision cleared, and I found myself sitting in an unfamiliar room resembling an abandoned swimming hall.
The pool itself was empty, the bottom stained revealing scarlet.
There were symbols carved into each tile.
Like a game.
“Sit up straight, Charlotte.”
I was sitting at a banquet.
Jude was in front of me, sipping on wine.
He caught my eye for half a second before averting his gaze.
At the far end of the table sat my aunt May.
Kissing the rim of her glass, her smile was twisted.
“I've been waiting so long to give you your birthday presents, Charlotte. Your memories should be returning soon.”
“Mom.” Jude muttered, hiding behind his glass. “Calm down. You're embarrassing yourself.”
Ignoring my cousin, May tapped her glass with a fork, and in walked my birthday presents.
No, dragged.
By their hair.
Wren Oliver, the dead boy, was in fact my aunt's prisoner.
Behind him, was the girl who looked so much like Lily.
I think that's why my aunt chose her.
Aunt May cleared her throat.
“For a long time, our family has lived among creatures who live in the forest you played inside! In exchange for keeping this town safe, they only ask for small favors. Wayward children who disappear into the woods are good enough payment. However, you and your siblings do not share our inheritance. Your mother never wanted fae children. She wanted you to be human.”
Aunt May’s smile faded.
“After losing my sister, and my niece and nephew, I made a deal to give my last surviving niece 100 years of life.”
Her words were white noise, my gaze glued to my birthday presents. I couldn't call them human anymore.
I couldn't call Wren human, when his face was so beautifully grotesque, painfully hypnotising.
The monstrous things sticking from twin slits in his back were supposed to be wings, except they looked wrong, cruelly protruding from his exposed spine. Under the influence of alcohol earlier, the girl made me smile.
Her wings, to me, looked like one of a real fairy.
In reality, they were torn and shredded apart, bigger than the girl herself.
When she dropped onto her stomach, she was dragged back to her feet, her knees buckling under the weight. Her tiara of flowers and bone looked pretty to me when I saw her on the stairs.
Now, though, I could see the pearly white of a human child's skull forced onto her head, dead flowers threaded through cavernous, gaping eye sockets.
The two of them were violently shoved into the empty pool.
“Jude. Please demonstrate, sweetheart.”
Jude stood, pulling out a gun, and aiming it at the winged girl.
BANG.
The girl’s body hit the tiles, her blood seeping across stained white.
“Now, of course, our king did not give you life for free.” May continued.
“The King demanded a debt, as well as two heirs to join him in his court once your hundred years were complete.”
Her lips quirked into a smile.
“The king is smart. If a child cannot be stolen from the human world, they can, however, be made, moulded and shaped from their human forms, skinned of their humanity through their suffering, leaving a hollowed out shell in the child's place.” She was speaking so casually, ignoring Wren’s whimpers.
“The conversion takes a while. 100 years to birth a fully blooded fae heir, who will lose their human memories, in preparation to join their new family.”
Jude shot Wren in the chest, his eyes empty.
This time, he dropped his weapon, using finger-guns instead.
“Bang.” He deadpanned.
Then the neck.
I watched Wren come back to life, and then die.
Over and over again.
I think at one point, he screamed and cried.
But not now.
He was their puppet on display, dancing for their entertainment.
Half lidded eyes drowned in oblivion found mine, and I understood his hatred.
Before he was shot again.
Stabbed.
Branded and burned, and ripped apart.
At some point, I screamed at them to stop. I couldn't breathe, slamming my hands over my ears and begging them.
Aunt May didn't listen, ordering for my hands to be tied down.
“The King required two human sacrifices to suffer in your place.” She concluded. “For one hundred years.”
Aunt May’s smile was suddenly sad, and she lifted her glass in a toast.
I was watching their blood trickle down each tile in the pool, like every death, every time they suffered, my body became progressively less human.
I felt disgusting. I wasn't supposed to be alive. Every single year of my life, every breath I had taken, was stolen.
Aunt May nodded at me, her lips forming a proud smile. She stood up, and was handed a sacrificial knife.
Climbing into the swimming pool herself, she strode over to Wren.
The boy slumped to the floor, trembling, his knees against his chest.
Aunt May grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up, and sliced the blade across his throat.
His eyes flicked to me, and I swore, he smiled.
Spots of red dotted yellowing tiles, a river trickling under my aunt's heels.
“Happy 78th birthday, Charlotte.”
Last night ended with me being locked in my room.
It's been almost 15 hours, and the door is still locked. Please help me. I'm fucking terrified of what my aunt is planning.
I can't stop shgajing. FycjbfucibFUCK
If she is telling the truth, I shouldn't be here, right??
And I can't stop thinking.
Is Wren Oliver trying to kill me, or himself?

So Ill write things down I learned. observations. etc. Its not organized but someone might get something out of it.
First of all Diet: There is no way around it. You gotta loose the weight. Easier said than done. your sluggish and got 0 willpower. (im talking to myself here too haha)
The diet is obvious. There is 3 food groups. proteins, sugars(incl carbs), and fats. Last 2 are your energy sources. Those you have been eating too much off. And those who bought into the "fats wont make you fat" lie will end up with a fatty liver as well. I did it that way myself. low carb high fat..... bam NAFLD after 10 years.
So solution? well low carb and low fat. What to eat? Pretend your a body builder preparing for mr. olympia and go on a cutting diet. thats how they get to 3% body fat. only, you need to do this much longer. And why isnt it a problem for you? because your already carrying your saturated fats and entire breakfast lunch and dinner on your inside. If possible do intermittent fasting. or time restricted eating window. you WILL feel low energy. Hungry. right after eating even. It sucks. but..... your liver will thank you.
Also for the males: if your like me and have low testosterone, you NEED to fix it while your doing this otherwise you wont loose weight and have 0 willpower. I myself make my own T base powder in DMSO but thats another conversation. Low T creates fatty liver. High T cures it.
Lots of veggies and lean proteins. use plenty of spices as it will taste like shit without all the good fats and carbs. learn from the body builders.
Exercise: You got glucose issues. you need to use your largest muscles every day. they suck up glucose. I got a squat rack standing in my freakin office at home. Every day I do 4 sets of heavy squats with an olympic bar on my shoulders and weights. Deep squats. I do this with a system called EWOT but thats another story. I also do HIIT 3x a week. 6 rounds. 1 min each. looong break in between.
Now here is for the couch potatoes and office workers: install software on your computer to ping you every 30 min. Get up. do 15 body weight squats. sit continue whatever your doing. THIS is more important that any other exercise I just mentioned. Do it and you will know why I said that. you will feel amazing.
I stopped playing chess and got a new hobby of table tennis. you got to move more. stop SITTING.
EMF: yes I said it..... you gotta take that shit serious. No Wifi. wire everything. turn off mobile. or put it far away from you. use speakerphone. check if all things is proper grounded. make sure you sleep in absolute pristine 0 EMF. EMF will destroy your guy microbiome. you wont be able to digest your food. And heal your liver.
STRESS: Your tired and so your most likely on coffee like crazy. what they dont tell you is this: stimulants will increase cortisol. low chronic elevation of cortisol will increase glucose in the liver and blood stream. this will increase insulin. REGARDLESS if you eat low carb. this is why some people think they are in ketosis while tripping on coffee and they are not. they are only hurting their liver. and rest of the body. I know research shows coffee to be beneficial for the liver. yes, but not if it raises cortisol long term.
Btw, the blue light from your screens can do the same. blue light increase glucose in the blood. "blue light diet" will kill your liver and kill you. Get blue light filters for your screens. all of them. there is software made for this for this exact reason.
Get in the sun. ground barefoot. sleep before 10pm. hydrate with good water. dont shower in chlorinated water. research and fix it. stop wearing glasses outside. throw the sunglasses in the trash. Along with your sunscreen. and TV btw. oh and your microwave oven.
WALK..... 10.000 steps if possible daily. liver stagnation is scared of people who walk.
Last and LEAST important but unfortunately what people gravitate towards the first: Supplements.
Berberine. lower blood glucose. helps heal fatty liver.
Gymnema Sylvestre: helps liver figure out how to metabolize sugar.
Glycine and NAC powder: use plenty. lowers cortisol. cleans out your liver.
Milk Thistle. everyone knows this one.
TUDCA. research it.
I drink Dandelion and chanca piedra tea daily during the day.
I eat fresh tumeric roots daily. And Ginger pieces I swallow with water. or its in my tea.
Garlic cloves mashed. helps with triglycerides, inflammation, cholesterol and many more things. I dont care if I stink. Not my problem.
Apple Cider Vinegar. When you wake up. when you go to bed.
Trimethylglycinate or TMG or Betaine. Buy bulk powder. put in water each time you drink it. will give energy and help liver.
Choline/inositol: helps flush the fats out the liver. take high dosages. 3x a day.
get the product on amazon called Koncentrated K. Read the owners website. great source of info.
Vit d3.
Magnesium oil..... orally isnt working well. use oil on the skin. all over the body. let it soak in. shower. use plenty.
Now I am not going to answer 1000 questions. And im not going to defend or explain myself about details in this post. I expect you do what I did..... Research. find the answers your self. And try it out. see if it works. If not.... no problem. Remember we are all different.
Hope this helps.

[[FIRST][[NEXT>]]()

Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 1 “Reaction”

Slowly, consciousness begins to drunkenly crawl its way into his mind. The first thing he notices is the softness of the sheets, then it is the pillow that is just soft enough he can feel his own arm through it, and then the gentle warmth of a sunbeam hitting his body.
It was a comfortable, comforting, sunbeam. But at this point he had learned not to tarry, his body might have learned when to wake up but if he were to answer the call of comfort he was going to be late and he would rather not be. And so Santos steps out of his bed with a yawn and grabs his holopad, tapping the alarm off before it screams at him.
Though the process of doing so draws his attention to something in the device: A multitude of unread messages from the same news site. He had grown to find Prime News a reasonably reliable source of information, particularly on their coverage of the war.
He had not opened a single message ever since he subscribed to the war news.
Setting it down he continues with his morning routine, he knows he has time. First washing up, making sure he was both clean and presentable, then getting dressed. It isn’t until he was halfway through the door that he stops and turns around to look at his apartment. Gently running his tongue through his teeth he considers for a moment.
Huhn… It’s been getting easier
Before turning around and continuing to head out. He stops in front of Keya’s door for just one second, remembering she had left before him, then makes his way down to the streets and towards the precinct. It takes just a minute for a strange sensation to settle on him… There was something wrong and he could not tell what just yet. At this point he had learned to trust his instincts in some manner, and he knew that his pattern-matching sense was warning him of something, but what?
He was halfway to work when it all clicks in place; Blackriver is silent, silent of people. Traffic was usually non-existent but the little hints of people activity were gone. Though a quick scan had shown him some part of the reason as to why, he could see people through the windows, but none outside.
His internal alarms sounded when he crossed the threshold of the precinct. The front was empty, and the only noise happening was that of a distant television. He follows it to the inevitable direction of the breakroom wherein he finds the entire office sitting, either with their focus on the television or their own pads. Even Kessa’s brother was here, and he kept an opposite shift to Marik as the only two armorers. “Clearly something very serious is going on, what happened?”
Everyone turns their ears at him, the ones that were looking down raising the centerline of their view, except for Lunek. The first response comes from the obvious, their boss, and from the contents of her sigh she’s got her full faculties today “You haven’t seen the news?”
The human shrugs “Sorry. I’ve been… Avoiding knowing about the state of the war… For my own sake.” He looks at the television, whatever had happened he had just missed it as he can barely see the governor’s tail vanish from sight and the transmission end “Tell me it’s not something like another fleet”
“Past tense” Marik answers, returning to his holopad
Keya rubs the bridge of her snout “And not for you… Apparently this mess is… Deeper than we ever thought” she presses a few buttons on her own holopad and offers it to Santos.
He takes it, looking at the video. It appears to be an official address, the one he had just missed. The specific words are not important, but the content is still terrifying. It speaks of an assault on a hidden facility, one meant to keep forbidden history. It speaks of a people who fought tooth and nail against their conquerors, and were broken in culture and body. The address is short, far too short for this much weight “I…”
Fuck… This could have been us… It wouldn’t have ended just with bombs… It didn’t for them.
Soon as the video was over, there was a simple link. Following it, there was a page- It was a simple directory of information, linking to articles and videos. Hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds… Recordings of the past, both in video, audio and text. He picks a category and looks at the file names until something familiar appears. “Ilfran’s Landing Revolt” he mutters the name as he calls up the video.
Ilfran’s Landing was a familiar name. The oldest spaceport in the region and named after the captain of the first ship to land there, originally a cargo port as far as he knew; it was a historical multi-centennial building dating all the way to venlil first contact… In the background of the video the triple launch gantries for cargo freighters were recognizable. He had seen them before for a reason: Their Regional lies in Ilfran’s Landing, and he had to go there once for paperwork when he was first assigned here.
It is strangely familiar to see the start of the video, it seems like an overhead camera looking at a riot that could have been full of humans, if not for the blending mass of grays that the venlil become when in a large group. Except this is not a normal riot, riots and protests would have signs or some other means of conveying a message, here they had only weapons. And the side opposite to them were the silver suits, strangely similar silver suits- A monospecies unit, though he can’t ascertain what one.
The video was bloody carnage, though the exterminators fought with bullet, plasma and flame the venlil had little more than sharpened iron and claw. Some scenes would remain with him, the first that’d stick with him was a closeup of a venlil, their legs lacked the inwards bow, their snout was slightly more square not to mention the nostrils- But what stuck the most was his motions. He growled and huffed and lowered himself to threaten like an angry goat.
The second scene was of an attack. It was the familiarity that struck with him, a venlil took a single step and lept through the flames, landing on the chest of an exterminator, bringing their short claws to bear. Almost every single step of the Black Claw, with one difference. This was striking to kill, even in the cacophony of battle it was sickening to see them violently snap their victim’s neck to the side before jumping off the falling body.
The last scene to stick to him was a shorter venlil running towards the exterminators, striking one at about the waist with their head and continuing, dragging them with their motion backwards until they crash through a door. A quite familiar door, this was the Regional, the same building serving the same purpose centuries ago.
Handing back the holopad to his boss, Santos was about to say something when a loud noise calls his attention, in fact the attention of everyone. A holopad had clattered to the ground, Lunek was breathing heavily as if he could not get enough air in his lungs, his arm still stretched out from having tossed the tool. Santos walks over calmly to the holopad, the crack across the surface distorting the hologram projected in the surface but not enough that he can’t see what is in it. It’s an index page for ‘Newborn Issues’.
He picks it up, and slowly walks over to the man who had thrown it. Lunek simply falls back on the couch, crying “Code blue…” he mutters when Santos sits beside him.
“Code blue?” the human furrows his brows, trying to remember some procedure he most certainly did not pay attention to.
“S-sister was a code blue… Tiss was too…” Lunek mutters “Seven… Seven minutes… Eighteen seconds…” his tail is lashing behind him with energy “That… That I didn’t know if she’d start breathing on her own…” his breathing becomes faster, stronger.
“I…” he suddenly turns around, grabbing Santos by the arms “I could have saved her!” he grasps his arms with strength “If I could have taken TWO. FUCKING. STEPS!” he shouts as he shakes “If those stupid broken legs could move, I would have saved her!” he cries out “If- If they hadn’t made us COWARDS I- I-”
Lunek’s voice starts at a low wheeze, building up in intensity into a powerful hiss “I hate them- I hate them… I hate them, I hate them! All of them, we have to-”
“Stop!” Santos finally interferes “Lunek, here” he puts a hand on the man’s shoulder “Will you listen to me? Listen to the end?” he stares directly at the enraged venlil “It will hurt, but will you listen?”
The father reciprocates the stare for a few moments. His breathing slows down gradually, and he finally flicks a positive with his right ear.
“Whatever ‘they’ tried to do to you, they failed.” Santos brings his hand closer to himself, sticking out his index finger “Because do you know the most important part of you? The one that I have seen being exactly what ‘they’ had feared so badly?” he gently taps his finger on Lunek’s head “It’s here, the spirit that is housed here”
“Do you know why I know they failed? Because, first of all, you are a wonderful father. You’d do anything for your family, you would sell your soul if you had to, and you did. You’d do anything, and more, to protect them”
“Do you know why they failed? They’ve been telling you for a hundred years that you’re cowardly and weak, and I saw you take your body to and past your limit all for the sake of saving one life. I saw you move like a storm when the time came to save someone from despair.”
“And I saw you have so much kindness in your heart, as to be able to forgive a wounded beast that nearly killed you”
“You are not weak. We’re all people in here. What the body can’t do, we find a way around as long as we have the will for it, and you’ve proven to have it” Santos takes a deep breath “But this is the part that will hurt you. Because I haven’t been where you are, but I’ve been in that neighborhood. I have to warn you away from one danger, before you step into it.”
He sits down beside the distraught officer “Answer me…” it almost seems like he’s feeling pain as Santos inhales “Would your sister hate you, for what your father did?”
Lunek’s paws twitch- And stop. For a moment he seems to stop breathing, stalled in time as if he had ceased to exist. But Santos continues undaunted “I did not know her, but if she was anything like you… I think she wouldn’t”
The human gently puts his hands on the only piece of uniform Lunek is wearing, the empty holster harness “And yet, here you are” he puts a hand on the badge pinned to it “Wearing the same badge he did”
Lunek seems to return to the flow of time, breathing faster, and looks down “But you are not him. You are a real protector, I have seen your actions since you have come here, and right or wrong your choices have always been guided by what would help people.”
“You are not guilty of your father’s sins” Santos lets go “And that holds true for everyone, you hear?”
Lunek raises his head back again, eyes distant… He takes a few more deep breaths “I… I think I get it…”
Santos raises his right arm up, index and pinky finger raised as he makes a motion with the index, mimicking the positive ear sign “And look. As a species, you’ve been like this for centuries. As a man, you’ve been like this your entire life. One more day will change nothing.” he puts as much emphasis as his tone can put “Just take time to think, alright?”
The father takes a few more calming breaths “Y-yeah… Yeah, you’re right… Yeah…” he repeats himself a few more times “D-don’t do anything rashly- Think- Think it over…”
“Okay” Keya’s voice calls everyone’s attention “But I think that right now, this isn’t the company you should be in” she takes a step back to clear way “There’s others that need you right now, Lunek. Go on, you shouldn’t be here”
He stands up, flicks ‘yes’ just once and begins running right out of the door, his destination obvious. A collective sigh echoes in the room “You do have a gift, it seems” Nila is the first one to speak “I could tell he was struggling”
Santos shakes his head “No, he did the whole job himself. Just needed to get unstuck.” the human rests his head back on the couch “He’s a good guy, deep down and on the surface, he just needs to be reminded of that”
“And how are you doing, Kessa?” Santos turns to face the source of the voice. Kessa’s brother was a bit of an elusive sight in the precinct, being the only other one with armory credentials Vess’ focus on the bureaucratic end of things had earned him permission to work from home when it wasn’t his shift in the armory.
Kessa sighs, looking back at the holopad in her paws “I could ask the same for you” she flicks her ear at Vess.
“Honestly? Angry, confused, overwhelmed… Too much at once” he sighs “But whatever I am feeling like, you look worse, so right now? I only care about how you are feeling, I can feel something later”
Kessa gently brings up her tail to wrap around her brother’s “You were also the better of us…” she sighs “I… I don’t know what possessed me… Looking at the videos, the articles- About schools”
Unlike her coworker, she doesn’t violently discards her holopad, but nonetheless just lets it limp off her paws “I don’t know… I was… Curious. Curious to know if- Ugh” she sighs, bending over to pick up the holopad “‘Associating undesirable behavior with antisocial tendencies, allowing their natural inclination for group cohesion to self-police’... That’s how they described it” she looks at the object’s screen, before setting it on her lap “You know I had… I had hoped that maybe we were just like that in some way, you know?”
Kessa shakes her head left and right with force “But no!” she looks up “Just another tool of control. Make us police ourselves from a young age! Murderous hypocrites. Making us behave like the ‘predators’ they so feared!”
With a swallow she continues “But I’m not putting fault on them like this, no. No… I could have made different choices, been better-” then she slaps her tail on the back of the couch, Vess reaching over to hold her “Tsk…”
“I just wonder…” Nila says, looking up, ears trained on her partner “Why did they do things this way?”
“This way?” Santos prods on
“There are… There’s so many ways to navigate people. There’s so many ways to-” she sighs “If they thought we were too violent then… Why do something so… Extreme?” she brings her tail up in front of her, holding the tip with both paws, staring at it “These kinds of processes don’t really work, they don’t change how people think… There’s no way they couldn’t have known it wouldn’t work out in the end, all that you wind up is… Traumatized people”
“You’re too kind, Nila” the human in the room offers “But you’re coming at this through the wrong angle” he offers a hand motion “They didn’t want to change how you thought. They just wanted to control how you behaved. Obedient and traumatized was good enough.”
“He’s right” Keya interposes “All ythe wanted was obedience, anything else… They didn’t care if it caused problems… And did it cause so many problems” their boss rests against the wall “Now that I think about it… If the way they handled ‘predator disease’ was so… Based on keeping people in line by force…”
“This is all so… Frustrating” Nila hisses “All of this and for what? Just because they were too impatient?!” she takes a deep breath “Or maybe because they’re just plain wrong” she shakes her head “It… Wasn’t just us that they were like this, was it? They were like this in some way with everyone… Void, they’re still like this now, with the facilities, the screenings… It’s all the same thing they’ve done to us then, repeated forever” then, Nila closes her eyes for a second “Boss I-”
“You’re going to have it” Keya interrupts, suddenly “A chance to help fix this mess. But you’re just one woman, even if you’re a miracle-worker. I managed to finagle a position in the next available course but it’s still a herd of paws away.”
“Thank you, boss” Nila flicks her right ear forward, crossing her arms “Is it weird that… I’m more worried about this than… Than what they actually did to us?”
“We all have different priorities, Nila” the next one to speak up is the venlil with the burned arm “Brahk, at least you have good priorities… I’m… I’m so angry and it’s at absolutely nothing, myself” Aren says, sounding irritated
“Even the smallest and strangest thing matters, Aren” she gives back “... Hah, I should listen to my own advice. But, yeah, what’s important is different for everyone, right? So what is it?”
Aren, who is resting himself against a table, looks down at his arms. “Ever since I met Lucas I’d been… Jealous” he turns aside, pulling a piece of paper from the nearby trashcan “He could do something I never could, something I never will, something I am very jealous of…” then, he pulls out a silver square object from a pocket. It’s a lighter, emblazoned with the symbol of the exterminators, a kind of memorabilia that they all have, a symbol not just of the strength of the flame but also its excess.
He flicks open the lighter, and brings the piece of paper over it. With a single motion, for a moment, a greenish jet of plasma appears igniting the paper. “Where there is fire…” he points the paper at Santos “There is smoke. The first sign of flame” he flicks the paper to extinguish it, and taps the top of his snout with the ashen edge “Is here”
“I, of course, always felt a little bit of jealousy of people who could just… Smell it. The smoke. That last bit of the flame that I am missing.” he closes the lighter with a powerful snap “I’d ask Lucas to describe to me the smell of various things burning… It… It was… Nice to have someone that understood it. And I was… Resigned, to the fact nature had made me this way, you know? Bad luck and all”
Slowly, he puts the lighter back on the pocket “And now this. I figure out that… No, that wasn’t nature giving me a bad draw” he brings his paws up to rub his eyes “‘Removed their sense of smell to increase their fear’, no speh. The first sign of fire is the smell of burning…” then, he flaps his ears like batting away some thought “Really? Just because I won’t ever really know if aramek and pine really do smell the same when burned? Is that why I’m feeling this angry? Not even because of what was done just… Just because I was reminded that I can’t…” and finally he sighs “I should be angrier at other parts of this”
Nila emits a light whistle of mirth “No, that’s fine. If anything, I know how important it is to you, Aren.” she offers him a ‘go ahead’ motion with her tail “I say this is just the thing to feel hard about, because it’s about what is important to you. As a person.”
The one who hadn’t been talking up to now finally pipes up “If you want to talk about having weird feelings… What’s it say that I am feeling a little relieved?” Marik says without looking away from his holopad
“Relieved?” Keya answers, ears splayed out horizontally in worry
The dark-furred venlil flicks in affirmative “Always knew there was… Something going on. Turns out that…” he chuckles “We’ve just always been like this”
Marik raises his holopad “I’ve gone and read some of the oldest data. Did you know there was an organization called ‘Rangers’? Their entire task was handling dangerous wildlife, they kept them away from cities and the roads safe” though nobody could really see what sort of video was playing in it, it had to be relevant “Makes sense, doesn’t it? That they’d try to fold them into the exterminators?”
“These records here? Show they tried, and oh… The Rangers made them regret that choice” he sets down his holopad “Because they were protectors of the herd, real hunters… And the exterminators… They were never about that, were they? Their real prey was always inwards.” he sighs “So… So it gives me some relief because… We’ve always been like this. There’s nothing out of the normal here, this is just… What we are”
Marik turns to Santos, looking at him head on “You were right. We are, and have always been, the greatest hunters of this world. And in some way, we hadn’t forgotten that, did we?”
“You sure didn’t” the human chuckles “I guess I can understand, if the translation is working right, why the exterminators might think rangers fit in with them only to regret it. A ranger’s job is as a caretaker of nature, no matter how dangerous it is”
Marik closes his eyes for a moment, slowly a hissing sound builds up- But then it starts to break into tiny whistles, increasing in intensity until he’s reached full blown laughter “Ah, of course! That’s right, isn’t it?” he puts a paw in his face “Father has always been right…” after a few moments he stops suddenly, then sighs “I… I need to make a call.” he simply walks out of the room.
Santos looks as the angry venlil walks out, then turns back to his boss. He stares at her for a moment “Everyone seems to be… Handling it decently, if not well.” he sighs “I know what it’s like to live through the end of the world, but finding i’ve been living this much of an illusion… I don’t know if I can even imagine what you’re going through”
Keya makes a dismissive motion with her tail “I can’t either… Honestly, this is… Just too much to care”
At that, he furrows his eyebrows, focusing his stare directly on her. But he says nothing.
“Look at the scale of this… Look at how long ago all this happened…” with a dismissive wave of her tail she continues “I think I know more than anyone here what it’s like to be stuck with the past. I got enough in mine that I don’t have space for this. We have a lot ahead of us to worry about, that’s what is important”
“What matters is the future, then?”
“Yeah… Me, I can’t bring myself to care. We still have a job to do, a job that needs done…” she then turns her gaze upwards “Of course… I might be doing that again but… I hope I’m not. Just like with the first reveal, things will get hectic. We can’t afford to be stuck in the past when the future is this uncertain.”
Then, she lets out a tiny whistle “Though, knowing all of this sure would have made solving the Black Claw a lot easier.”
Santos can’t help but follow along “Sure would. A lack of fight instinct was always too suspicious” he laughs a little bit, until he stops suddenly, staring off in the distance. The sudden shift in demeanor causes Keya to tilt an ear in his direction “Though… It does bring one thing to mind”
“What?”
“Entire species ousted as perpetrators, this entire organization historically used as colonial enforcers, an entire people who’ve been taught their entire lives that they’re meek harmless things only to learn that the fury they’ve always suppressed is normal.” Santos stands up, and stretches.
“People are going to be angry…” Keya continues
“And they’re going to make their anger known…” Santos looks at her “I think we’re about to learn what a stampede looks like, when it’s not fear driving it. But fury.”
[[FIRST][[NEXT>]]()
And here we are with one more season! "Day of Fury". Starting a little slower- As the crew receives the dreaded news from the Archives. They all have their thoughts on it, what parts of it matters to them, personally, as a people.
Though two are left with less worries about the past... And more about the future.
Not going to say i'm going to be as regular as i've been, those last few weeks have been... Something... But nothing that matters.

Having read a comprehensive book detailing the Hart Family/ Stampede Wrestling, as well as books by Bret Hart, Bruce Hart and Dynamite Kid, I can say it was great to hear from someone who was spoken about in all those books. It is fascinating to see all the intersecting points of view when it comes to anything Hart Family related.
Bret Hart book
Bruce Hart book
History of Stampede Wrestling book
History of the Hart Family as documented in various books
Dynamite Kid book
This book was short and a quick read, but you could tell it was written with honesty and truth. She doesn't shy away from her own mistakes and issues while detailing the own POV on a relationship where most people have only heard from Bret.
As always, it's done in chronological order. I hope you find it as interesting as I did...
Julie had a truly wild and horrific youth experience between being sent to juvenile detention centers and dealing with genuinely abusive step parents. She is honest and critical of her own behaviors as well and doesn't like the choices she made. I grew up in the area where she spent her teenage years, and I can confirm that the seedy ghetto areas of Saskatchewan are genuinely gross and terrifying places to be when you're young and directionless.
She talks about how she was r*ped while hitchhiking as a teenager and got pregnant. She gave the baby up for adoption and tried to press charges but got cold feet and ran to another neighboring city. She was afraid the man who assaulted her would escape the charges and come after her again. She was young and naively thought that if she had just switched towns, she could escape everything. When a cop found her, he accused her of running because she was lying about the assault. This type of bullshit is why women don't come forward.
Julie was working in Regina, Saskatchewan, at the arena where wrestling was held when it came in town. That's where she first saw Bret Hart, and Bret saw her too. He ended up asking her boss Gil to introduce the two. Bret spoke about this in his book, too, how Julie caught his eye while he was in the ring. Gil later warned Julie that dating a wrestler is risky because they have a lot of "stops on the road." Julie didn't understand that Gil wasn't criticizing or accusing Bret of anything, but how he knew how wrestlers were on the road, in terms of meeting women.
Julie speaks favorably on how Bret treated her younger sister Michelle (the future wife of Dynamite Kid) but I remember in Bret's book, him describing in detail how attracted he was to the underage Michelle when he met her. Julie says Bret treated her like a sister, and her book came out after Bret's, so I'll take her word for it.
Julie moved in with Bret in Calgary just a few months into their relationship and she remembers being a wreck of nerves and anxiety ay the start, unable to cook or even attend the big Hart Family Sunday dinner. Eventually, Bret got her out to the Hart house where she met Stu and Helen Hart. Helen was a sweetheart, but she remembers Stu eying her up and down, with Julie saying, "He gave me the once over." Adding, "Stu judged women on their teeth and legs." She said Stu stared at her teeth and legs as if she were a race horse he was inspecting.
Julie remembers how Stu would turn any conversation into something about wrestling. She mentioned being a Saskatchewan Roughrider fan (Canadian football team), and Stu went on a rant about Gene Kiniski, who briefly played for the Edmonton Eskimos This made me chuckle as Stu and Gene had a but of a rough relationship since Stu gave up on Gene when he was a rookie and hurt his knee. Gene went to Toronto where "Whipper" Billy Watson essentially turned Gene into the big name star he was known for.
In Bret's book, he described the first night Julie came to the Sunday Hart dinner and when Julie passed on the salad, Bret's sister Diana Hart snapped on her saying, "What, you're too good for fuckin' salad!?" Bret says his mom responded by saying to Julie, "So you met Bret's sister Diana." In Julie's book, she describes this event as well but doesn't mention the funny line from Helen. She says Bret just took Julie and decided to leave immediately. Bret's other sister, Georgia, followed them outside and apologized on behalf of Diana and excused Diana by pointing out how pregnant Diana was at the time.
Julie actually puts over Diana quite a bit and says she actually came to admire Diana for how outspoken she was. She says Diana had a great style and was a gifted artist. After reading so many Hart related books, it's refreshing to hear something positive about Diana. Diana is the "Black sheep" who married "The British Bulldog" Davey Boy Smith. Diana would write a scandalous and legal minefield of a book in 2001 called "Under the mat." It was quickly pulled from shelves after Owen Hart's widow Martha threatened legal action over what was said about her and Owen. Bret and Bruce Hart also denounce the book, calling it mostly lies, but not everything can be written off as fiction, including stories, some wild stores about Dean Hart. I desperately need this book.
Julie said she never got over the sight of Bret Hart eating an avacado as if it were an apple.
While Bret was in Japan wrestling with his brother Keith, Julie said she spent a lot of time with Keith's girlfriend. It was Keith's girlfriend who smartened Julie up to how wrestling works. Up to this point, she believed it to be legit, and even Bret had been selling it like this to her. She was furious, and when Bret called, she told him they were done and hung up on him. The next day, Bret's older brother Bruce stopped by to help her understand kayfabe and how silly it all was. Julie says she ended up feeling bad for reacting like that and yelling at Bret, but she says he forgave her immediately. Bret tells this same story in his book, adding details of how Julie would worry and stress about Bret Hart being brutalized every night.
Here's something I dont remember from Bret's book. He knocked up Julie very early into their relationship, and Julie got an abortion. She said they both weren't ready for being parents, but Julie says she was deeply saddened by their choice. She never expressed these misgivings with Bret, and assumes Bret was relieved, she didn't make it any more difficult on them. To Bret's credit, maybe he didn't mention it in his book for Julie's benefit. Or he did mention it very briefly, and I missed it.
Julie remembers accompanying Bret on a trip overseas where they went to a freaky sex show place where they had "baby tigers and lions and torture rooms."" She says at one point Bret got tied up on a table and was playfully whipped.
On this trip, Julie remembers a woman hitting on Bret right in front of her and had to yell at her to back off while Bret laughed. Julie was pissed and made them go back to the hotel. Once there, Julie was mouthing off to Bret before he grabbed her and "bodyslammed" her into the flower bed. He offered to help her up afterwards but she told him to fuck off.
A week later Bret came home smelling of perfume and Julie says she just snapped. She said she grabbed him and dug her finger nails into his face and eyes. She says Bret later would tell her that he never saw her the same after this incident. I don't remember Bret describing Julie ever getting physical like that in his book, but he did describe a lot of shouting matches.
Julie says she and Bret got married after her younger sister and Dynamite Kid. She says they got married in secret because Bret didn't like his siblings much and said they didn't deserve to be part of it.
When Julie was pregnant again this time they felt ready to start a family. Though Bret made Julie not tell anyone for the first 5 months of her pregnancy and when he "told" his parents, it was through a letter he left on their bed before he left for a wrestling tour. Julie remembers feeling hurt by this because Bret would say his parents always wanted their children to start families with someone who had money, a significant name and an education. Julie had none of those things and while she doesn't say it, you get the feeling that she thinks Bret was ashamed or embarrassed by her.
When she got pregnant again, she says Bret was mad at her for not being more careful with birth control. She says she became very irritable and bitchy throughout the pregnancy and always found something to be mad at Bret for. She is super critical of her behavior here and doesn't excuse it.
The night she gave birth, Bret left to go out for drinks, despite Julie asking him not to in case her water broke. When she woke up at 5am to her water breaking, she was furious that Bret didn't come home yet and had to call a friend to get her to the hospital. Bret was a no-show for her entire delivery and missed his second child being born. Julie says she was furious and seriously considered divorcing him then.
When Bret started touring with WWF, he was gone for much longer periods of time and this strained their marriage. Working for WWF really put a strain on Bret and filled him with confidence issues as well. She said between his self doubt and her loneliness, their marriage was barely holding on.
She remembers how Bret would call from the road and bemoan about how lonely he was. I'm reminded of his book, how he would complain about feeling lonely, then complain that the guilt of cheating on Julie was too much.
Julie says she got a literal itch and went to a doctor who told her that she caught "something" from a public washroom. A suspicious Julie went home and threw all her bedding in the garbage and then thought to check on her suspicion. She looked through their phone bills to find that Bret was placing a ton of calls to a girl from New Jersey and that he even kept the receipt for a Christmas present he bought this girl!
Julie describes how Bret called and she just screamed "I want a divorce!" Before she hung up and ripped the phone cord out of the wall. Eventually she agreed to go meet him and they started yelling at each other in a parking lot after a show. She says at one point Bret through a can of budweiser at her head, hitting her! She says wrestler Les Thorton got between the two and tried to calm them down. She remembers screaming how she won't get in the car with Bret and Bret yelled back, "Don't be stupid, get in the car! Your embarrassing yourself!" She says Bret later said the girl meant nothing to him and Julie should be greatful that Bret isn't addicted to drugs. Wild. At one point when they were back in the hotel room, a girl called the room asking for Bret and Julie snapped, breaking a lamp.
In Bret's book, he described how he decieved both Julie and this girl from New Jersey, neglecting to tell this side girl that he was married until she was head over heels in love with him. Bret talks about how tough this was for him and says that Stu and Helen Hart talked Julie out of leaving him.
Julie says their relationship was never the same after the affair. She couldn't trust him again.
Julie says when her grandmother died a few months after the affair, Bret was calling her everyday to check in but she said "I couldn't have cared less about those calls."
Julie says it was around this time that she and Bret started to regularly do cocaine. She said the coke helped her not think about the affair and how she would ask Bret to score some if she couldn't get it out of her head. She said she would do coke and sleep in the car just to avoid Bret. She suggests this all slowed down when Vince started cracking down on coke use with drug tests.
She speaks highly of Vince McMahon, this book was written in 2013, and she is greatful for what Vince was able to provide for her family and the opportunity he gave Bret. She says when she first met Vince, he was wearing a suit and sneakers. When she asked Bret why he wore sneakers, Bret said "so he can get around." During the show she noticed Vince was all over the place during matches, never sitting still and always running around from one person to another.
Julie remembers meeting Ozzy Osbourne at Wrestlemania 2 and "marking out" because he was her idol as a teenager. After the show, she says Ozzy was present as everyone had drinks at the hotel and Dynamite Kid spiked her drink. She said she could barely stand and Dynamite just laughed at her the whole time.
Julie notes how devoted Bret was to making sure his kids had the best toys, and how Bret would drive to every toy store before Christmas and find what the kids wanted. She appreciates this but also wishes Bret didn't miss so many plays and dances and activities due to his schedule. She was starting to really resent wrestling and wanted Bret to quit. She hated having this big house that felt empty most of the time without Bret home. In Bret's book, he wanted her to get a job to fix her loneliness.
She says her 3rd pregnancy was easier than her second and Bret was very sweet to her and praised how good she looked.
Julie brings up how devastated Bret was when his brother Dean died in 1990. She remembers watching him wrestle the next night at Survivor Series ppv and seeing the pain on his face. Bret talks about how tough this was in his book and how much shame he felt. Dean needed a kidney transplant and none of the Hart brothers stepped up. Bret didn't want to derail his career. Though you can't blame anyone more than Dean himself, who was stubborn and often went against doctors orders, so even with a mew kidney, Dean may have still died.
Julie talks about continuing her partying and drug lifestyle into the early 90s when she would party with a local band and inviting them to live at her house. She said Bret was very understanding and never pushed her for details on those nights out. Some nights Bret would watch the kids all night while Julie was getting fucked up and partying.
On of those musicians, Marc, was very close with Julie and while Julie never says she hooked up, she does say her younger sister Michelle did hook up with Marc, a bunch of times in secret. She doesn't specify if this was before or after Michelle left Dynamite Kid, but she says Marc did move in with Michelle and help her with the kids. This would have been after Dynamite went back to UK, since I'm sure Dynamite would have kicked the door down and attempted to murder Marc if this were in the final months of of Michelle and Dynamite's marriage.
Julie's brother committed suicide and Julie didn't have the support system around to prevent her from spiraling into heavy drinking.
In 1996, Bret Hart was filming a movie (Sinbad) in South Africa and halfway through, asked Julie to come join him. Julie is very honest about how she was self sabatoging her life at this point but was still deeply in love with Bret. She was excited to read an early draft of some Shakespeare work that was at a museum, but Bret couldn't be bothered to go with her so she went by herself.
She says her and Bret shared a perfect moment watching the sun set, but Bret got mad at her when she decided to record it.
Julie describes sneaking cigarettes because Bret didn't know she picked the habbit up again.
The trip ended when Julie was asking Bret something but he just ignored her several times in a row. When she finally looked at what had his attention, she saw he was gawking at a topless sunbather on the beach. She stormed off to the hotel room after telling Bret to show her more respect than that. Julie says Bret followed her to the room, with him saying she always ruins these trips. When Julie started packing her bags, she says Bret pushed her hard onto the bed. She started spewing insults at him, before, she says, Bret grabbed her by the hair and threw her from the bed and onto the floor! Julie says she started crying and demanding that Bret get her home immediately or else she would find someone who would. Bret screamed at her "Get the fuck out! I've had it with you! We're fucking done! I will put you on a plane tonight, but don't expect to win me back!"
Having read Bret's book, he does mention the trip to South Africa where he filmed the Sinbad movie. But Bret makes no mention of inviting Julie on the trip and instead points out how it coincided with a WWF tour in South Africa at the same time. Bret does talk about how the Dutch found the area and how beautiful itnwas there, which was something Julie mentioned as well that Bret talked about. Bret does mention getting a lot of ladies phone numbers on the last few days of the trip and seeing a drunk Yokozuna swapping spit with some South African PR woman when they were both very drunk. Bret makes no mention of Julie being there or how he got physical with her.
The Hart's always try to shy away from controversial truths, just ask any one of them where Bruce Hart met his wife. They will all say at a wrestling show, and neglect to mention how Bruce Hart was a 33 year old substitute teacher who knocked up his 17 year old student. Gross. (I'll never not bring this up when talking about the Hart's btw)
Julie talks about Mathew Hart, Georgia and BJ's son who died in 1996 from Necrotizing Fasciitis, a legitimate flesh eating virus. From everyone's account, the poor boy suffered for 2 weeks until he died. Julie says she and Bret took their kids on vacation when the poor kid died. A lot of people act as though the Hart Family curse started at the Screwjob in 1997, but really it started with Dean in 1990 and Mathew in 1996.
Julie remembers how gleeful Bret was when he called her up and bragged about giving a drunken Vince McMahon his tag team finishing move. Julie warned Bret that Vince wasn't the type to forget that and she suspects that it played a part in the screwjob. This sounds silly imo but what do I know, I found it an interesting and unique take if nothing else.
Julie remembers the morning of the 1997 Survivor Series ppv, someone warned Bret that Vince and Shawn were seen the night before talking and getting into an elevator together.
Julie says she and her lawyer were sitting somewhere in the arena as the Montreal Screwjob happened. Julie says she got up, looking at the monitor and said, "Holy shit, that's not supposed to happen!" And her lawyer, also shocked, said, "No, it is not."
Julie says she and the layer had to sprint to catch up to Bret and Vince and she describes her scolding of Triple H and Shawn Michaels, saying the words just poured out of her. It's maybe the most memorable scene of that documentary, watching Triple H and HBK shrink into children as Julie dresses them down.
Julie says the 1997 holidays were anything but cheerful and says she was boozing a lot and doing coke "from time to time."
Julie wanted to get a nanny or house keeper but Bret refused and put his foot down on the subject.
Julie says Bret asked for a divorce in early 1998 and she handled it poorly. She is critical of her immediate response to run away from home and stay at a hotel. When she returned home for clothes, her confused daughter asked her what was going on and a rageful Julie said "Your dad wants a divorce and I can't stay in the same house as him anymore! Julie says she was so blinded by her anger she didn't see the damage she was doing then.
Julie says that the Wrestling with Shadow's documentary crew needed Julie and Bret to reshoot something that didn't come out right when they originally shot it. So Julie and Bret had to pretend to be a in a marriage again talking things out about Bret's career. Julie says her and Bret slept together after they shot the scene and she was hurt when Bret said afterward, "One for the road, I guess."
The next time she heard from Bret, he told her to get a lawyer because he had one already.
Julie says she and Bret spent many nights yelling at eachother over the phone, with Bret calling her a whore and saying he didn't take all those bumps so Julie to take all his money. This is a statement Bret would repeat a lot to Julie over the years of them fighting. He would call her a money grabbing whore and how he didn't take a bunch of bumps so Julie could end up with the money.
Just as Julie was ready to sign custody papers, Bret's personal assistant contacted Julie and told her that Bret had been seeing some girl in the States for months. The assistant said she felt guilty arranging their meetups behind Julie's back. Julie said she later told Bret that she isn't signing shit and she needed to contact her lawyers with the new developments. She said Bret first tried denying it, calling his assistant jealous and a liar. Then Bret blamed Julie because Bret said he "couldn't get past her traumatic past." What the fuck Bret, I'm pretty sure he is referring to Julie being sexually assaulted as a teenager. (He makes this clear later in the book) Then he bragged about his new girl looking better than Julie and being younger than Julie, with Bret also saying the kids will love the new girl. Bret even later said Julie was getting heavier and letting herself go.
Pretty wild story here. Julie says that Bret started neglecting the kids, even when he was in town, and often skipped out on seeing them altogether. For Canada Day 1998 Bret promised to take them out and to the fireworks. Julie says they waited all day, expecting a fun evening with their dad. But Bret didn't show up with their friend Dean, until after 9pm, (stoned and drunk according to Julie) after Julie tried to call Bret repeatedly and got no answer.
Julie isn't proud of this, but says before Bret arrived that night, Julie had sat the kids down and told them Bret was off smoking pot with a new girlfriend. Julie knew immediately she shouldn't have said it, she saw her kids starting to cry and knew she tarnished how they look at their dad.
Bret was pissed off that Julie decided to take the kids to the fireworks, and when Julie had herself and the kids in the car, an enraged Bret started punching the drivers side window until Julie agreed to get out and talk.
Bret grabbed and dragged her off around the corner of the house where Julie defiantly told him that the kids know he smokes pot and is seeing someone else.
Julie says Bret snapped, slammed her hard up against the wall and yelled, "You bitch! I hate you! I hate you!" Then Julie claims that Bret grabbed her by the throat and slammed her on the ground where he continued to choke her until their son Blade came around the corner and screamed at Bret to get off his mom!
As Julie was catching her breath, their friend Dean, who was still there and in shock, tried to help Julie up. Bret took off with their son Blade and a panicked Julie called the police. She foolishly said to the 911 opperater that her husband pro wrestler, Bret Hart, had taken her child againt her will. The police arrived and seemingly didn't know who Bret was, tried to get Julie to press charges. The police were able to call Bret and convince him to bring the kid to the police station, so the cops could bring him home. Bret makes no mention of this in his book.
Julie says Bret stopped by the next day and apologized and tried to ask her to sit down for coffee. Julie explained how they scarred their children for life the night prior and she wasn't interested in speaking to him in friendly terms yet.
Julie defends Bret a bit by saying she could see in person that she wasn't the cause of his anger and that he was just deeply angry and disappointed with things. This would be 1998 and even Bret describes how bitter and despondent he was at this time. Julie says he stopped being around the kids and it hurt them, especially their boys Blade and Dallas who started getting a chip on their shoulders and seeking conflict. One time Julie asked Dallas about Bret and Dallas said, "He never calls and is never around."
Julie says things were getting stable but she and Bret started secretly sleeping together again and complicated things. She says Bret would pick her up and drove to a seedy part of town before casually dropping her off at home after. She says she was initially amused by this but eventually began to wonder how many other women Bret does this with. It made her feel uncomfortable to say the least.
One time as she was being dropped off, Julie asked Bret if he was happy. Bret said no and that he couldn't get happy. Then Bret asked if Julie was seeing anyone, but didn't let her answer, he just said "of course you are." Julie realizes now that Bret was suffering some deep depression and at the time she mistook codependency for love.
Eventually Bret's other girlfriend caught wind of his and Julie's rendezvous and made Bret break things off. Julie could hear the woman on the other end of the line when Bret called to inform Julie that they need to set boundaries in their relationship now.
Julie says Bret once called her to say he tested for hepatitis and that Julie should get checked out as well.
Julie later found out that the girl Bret was seeing was nearly the same age as their daughter.
Julie says her and Bret continued to sleep together behind his girlfriends back though, with Bret always asking for "coffee" before making a move, which Julie always reciprocated.
Bret would break up with his girlfriend near the end of 1998 and ask Julie if he can spend the holidays with her and the kids. Julie relents, and soon they seem to be trying to salvage their relationship with Bret more present then he ever has been.
Soon after the new year, Bret and Julie take a trip together to Hawaii. Julie finally builds up the courage to ask Bret what he thinks of them getting back together, and Bret says he doesn't want to get "trapped" again. Julie snapped and said, "That's it I'm done, I can't keep playing these games with you!"
During this conversation, as Julie was walking away, Bret randomly said, "My therapist said that sometimes girls, like the ones your age when all that stuff happens to you, they like it." Julie burst into tears and ran out of the room. What the fuck Bret, to imply that that when his wife was a 16 year old girl, she liked getting r*ped!
Helen Hart died a few weeks after 9/11 in 2001. She was from New York, and Julie remembers how devastated Helen was following the September attacks. Helen went back to New York a few weeks later to visit her sister, but due to the border concerns, she was held up for hours after her plane landed back in Calgary. She wasn't able to reach her insulin and eventually went into a coma.
Helen was on an off ventilation a few times while at the hospital, and one day Alison (Bret's sister) called and told him to come visit asap, because Helen was back on a ventilator and it wasn't looking good. Bret thought Alison being an alarmist and decided to visit the next day. Julie says she wishes they had visited that night, because Helen passed away a few hours later.
One afternoon, Julie came home to find her son Dallas on the phone, when she asked him who he was speaking to, Dallas said, "It's dad, but he sounds drunk." Bret told Julie that he fell off his bike and couldn't get up. He wasn't speaking clearly and couldn't properly explain where he was. Julie and her daughter Beans, drove around looking for Bret based off his perception and directions.
Julie and Beans found him laying casually in the grass, as if he was resting. She said one of Bret's eyes was wide open and the other was closed, and half his mouth was dropping. She struggled to move him as he slurred his words and insisted he was fine. Eventually an ambulance was called and Bret was loaded in.
Julie says the stroke changed him, made him mooder and more depressed. She isn't casting judgment, just pointing out changes she noticed as she spent every day at the hospital with him, helping to feed and cloth Bret, even helping him to the bathroom.
Julie remembers one night that Bret confided in her that he feared he got a stroke as punishment for all the bad things he done. He told her that the morning he got a stroke, he was planning on signing the divorce papers.
Several months later, with Bret moving aorund more, he spent Easter with Julie and the kids, but Julie found an email from some woman in Italy, directed to Bret and it suggested some heavy sexual stuff. Julie felt stupid and used again. When she confronted him on it, he denied anything and she reluctantly believed him.
A week later as Bret prepared for a trip, she found a plane ticket to Italy, when she asked Bret where he was going, he said England. Julie drove him to the airport and told him to get the fuck out.
Bret went to Italy to be with a fan he met at a contract signing, who was obsessed with him since she was a little girl. Julie says she is exactly what Bret needed to feel like the Hitman again. After reading Bret's book, this assessment is completely accurate.
The Italian woman's name was Cynthia and she was also just a year older than Bret's daughter Jade. Julie said Jade had the hardest time accepting Cynthia, whom Bret was determined to integrate into the family.
When Bret's dad Stu died, Julie remembers how she, Bret and Stu's granddaughter Jenni all stood by the bed and watched as he passed. She remembers how she kissed his cheek and told him he could go see Helen now, he didn't need to be here and longer. I remember the speech Stu gave at Helen's funeral, with one line in particular staying with me, "I'm glad for the time I had with her," he said full of love, but his pain was on display too, "Ill never get over this" he finished solemnly, "I don't have enough time."
Julie remembers one day that their son Blade called her from Bret's house, begging for her to pick him up. Blade and Bret started arguing about Cynthia, with Bret saying to his own son, "Don't make me pick between you and Cynthia, because I'll pick Cynthia! And if you don't like it you can get the fuck out!"
Julie started calling Bret "Hitman" when he acted like this to his children, with Julie telling them that their father still loves him and not to worry about what The Hitman says, because it's coming from a broken mind.
One day after Julie bought a house, Bret randomly showed up with a turkey and tried to hit on her. Julie found it amusing and asked him if Cynthia knew he was there. Bret tried to make a move on her but Julie made it clear that won't happen so Bret left. As he left, he told Julie, "I still have cravings for you and I'm not sure I'll ever get over them." To which Julie just cooly responded with, "You will."
After Bret left that day, Julie called his assistant who confirmed that Cynthia was literally on a plane back to Italy right then. Julie laughed at how pathetic it was for Bret to say goodbye to Cynthia and then an hour or two later, show up at Julie's with a turkey and looking for sex.
Bret secretly married Cynthia and months later told the kids after the fact. Their son Blade was so furious he could barely speak to Julie when he got home and eventually blurted out, "Dad married that girl!" Their other son Dallas was also furious and explained how Bret callously told the kids "tell your mom, make sure you tell your mom." He was clearly trying to hurt Julie and used the kids to do so.
When Bret was inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame in 2006, Julie insisted on going and told Bret if he doesn't find a way for her to be there, then she would call Vince McMahon herself and arrange it. Bret promised her she would be there but asked her to be discreet about it.
Julie got asked to do an online interview leading up to the Hall of Fame, and she let slip that she would be at the show to support Bret. Later, an irate Bret called her, yelling about how she was supposed to be discreet. Julie clued in on the fact that Bret didn't tell his new wife yet about Julie coming and now he was in hot water. In the end, Bret refused to allow Julie to come to the Hall of Fame to support him.
In Bret's Hall of Fame speech, he just talked about his new wife and how Cynthia was there for him after his stroke and just put her over big. He didn't mention Julie and only mentioned 2 of his 4 children. She says her children were extremely hurt by this and calls it the ultimate betrayal.
Julie started running low on money in 2008 and even attempted to be on a reality show. It was all a BS scam though and she had to invest money into it and eventually it all fell through. She speaks of this with a bit of shame while framing it as something she learned from.
Julie was facing bankruptcy and foreclosure on the house, so as a last resort, she called Bret. She asked him for 9 grand to cover 3 mortgage payments so she can sell the house. Bret chastised her for having money problems before ultimately saying no. He suggested that she rent the house out or have the kids pay rent. As they left, Julie warned him that if she loses the house, Bret may need to take the kids at him place. She doesn't say what he said to this, but she does say, "His response was too cruel to put into writing." Good lord, considering all she told so far, I wonder what Bret said that was so bad, Julie didn't want to even write it down?
Julie does point out that Bret didn't owe her a damn thing and she was in this situation by her own doing. Julie felt like she was letting her kids down most of all.
Julie would move in with her daughter Beans where they split the rent together. She got a job making $14/hour working as a janitor at a local middle school and Julie notes that she was living well below the poverty line.
Julie remembers how absurd it was for her to show up to her janitor job driving a Lexus.
Julie ended up selling her Lexus to her daughter Beans, and Julie bought herself a 1999 Sunfire. It was the first car she ever bought with her own money.
Julie's father died in 2012 and Julie says she wrote a letter to him, promising to make him proud, and stuffed it inside his coffin.
Julie says she spends most of her days being a grandma to Jade's daughter and how grateful she is to be close to her kids still.
Bret can't say the same, Julie notes how he travels alone or with his wife and never offers invites to his kids. She says it breaks her heart to see how far Bret drifted away from their children, even if all her kids insist that they don't care. This was in 2013, so potentially Bret and his kinds could have a better relationship by now.
Julie spends the last several pages of the book detailing her kids and all the ways she loves them. You can tell she is a mother first and foremost, you can tell she loves them unconditionally. Jade, Dallas, Beans and Blade, weird names for kids but I also have a weird name so I can't judge.