Quotes about family turning on you

This is going to be a long one so I suggest sitting down and eating a snack lol. This honestly starts back from kindergarten when I first met my boy best friend (21M) who I'll call Joey to keep things private. Joey and I grew up together, we've lived across the street from each other for the past 15 years. I would say our friendship didn't start to pick up till the 4th grade. It was me, Joey, My brother (18M), Tom ( 21M), Diana (21F), and Joey's little brother (18M). Diana was my best friend the girl I hung out with everyday and spent all my time with, shared secrets with. Tom was that type of person to joey. Joey and I have always had some form of mutual crush towards each other and I honestly I believe it started in the 4th grade. Growing up our parents were best friends and to this day still are. So Joey and I spent a lot of time together, we would watch movies, go to the park, go on trips together, go to the the local community street and just hang out we spent all of our time together. The first time I told Joey I liked him was in 5th grade, I've always known I loved him, He was my first love, my first kiss, the first boy I cried about, the first boy who made me jealous although we never dated, there was a lot of first between us. Joey use to be really mean to me, would always make fun of me, constantly chase me, and just in general say mean things and always shut me down whenever I confessed my love to him. Everyone knew I liked him, I would never stop talking about it. Our friends would have us kiss during truth or dare or have us confess our love for each other. Thats just how it was growing up. In middle school is when things started to change and I started to get involved with other guys. It was nothing more than the middle school relationship, just people I liked. I can't remember exactly what summer it was but I believe it was 8th grade summer going into 9th grade when things between really started to pick up. During that summer our family went on 2 week long camping trip and joey and I got really close and he confessed his love for me, but nothing came from it and when we got back from that trip we shared our first kiss together during a scary movie we were watching at my house. After that there was nothing. I started high school and we really drifted apart. I remained with Diana and some other close friend while Joey made new friends and kept his distance. It was like that all of high school. But a lot happened during that time. I dated my first boyfriend who i broke up with within a year and I dated my second boyfriend who I broke up with 3 years ago. My second boyfriend is honestly the root cause to things getting messy. I started dating my second boyfriend at the end of 10th grade, and that summer I went on a trip and Joey and his family and some of my cousins. That trip joey and I flirted a lot, spent all our time together and just got really close. But when it was over it was if nothing had ever happened and I went on to continue dating my boyfriend. Without getting into too much details about my ex lets just say he was a horrible person who physically and mentally abused and manipulated me and basically turned me into the person I am today. He ruined a lot for me and he tore apart my friend group. Joey, Diana, and Tom all saw how much my ex was hurting me and they tried multiple times to get me out of the relationship but It just never really happened and things got messy. Joey continued to distance himself from me and Tom started to fill joey's mind with horrible thoughts about me which honestly really turned joey against me. The summer of 2021 is when I was finally able to escape my ex but the way it panned out wasn't good. My friends first tried to force me and joey to date even if It was as rebound, they used our history as an excuse to get me out of the relationship and well that didn't work. And a month later I tried to kill myself, I ended up in the hospital with 11 stitches in my wrist and lots of therapy. I ended up going back to my ex a few days later. Thats when I saw joey and tom distancing themselves and honestly they said some hurtful things to me. My now boyfriend is the reason I was able to leave the relationship. 3 days after I broke up with my ex, my best friend Diana got with him and yeah thats another story for another time. But basically to keep it simple after that happened they all left me and I was just left alone in pain with my now boyfriend picking up the pieces. Everything went well since then. I grew up and I really matured and got my life in order. But last week something unexpected happened. Joey entered my life again. I was at the bar with my parents when he arrived with his parents, I would be lying if I said I wasn't already drunk, But I was way drunk. And I got wasted even more after joey arrived. But we talked for hours that night and I found myself confessing my love for him all over again. And he started confessing his love and basically he had to carry me home cause I was wasted. I waited 10 years for this boy to tell me he loved me and now I don't know what to do. He went on to apologize for all the things that happened and how he was never there for me and he basically was just sorry. I kept asking him why he never dated me or why he never took the chance when I gave him chance after chance. And he told me he was jealous and mad at me for all the times I went out with other guys and he thought that I didn't genuinely care for him. I basically told him I felt like you constantly played with my feelings. Now I am in a relationship. A very loving relationship fully committed one too. We live together already. But after hearing joey's words and the things I said when I was drunk I feel so conflicted and have no idea where to go from there. Joey told me he would wait for me as long as he is still in love with me. He told me he's been in love with me for that past 14 years and that there's never been anyone else for him. He's never dated anyone the closest he's ever came to was me. My boyfriend knows some of the story he knows basically all the childhood drama and everything that happened, and he knows Joey is back in my life as a friend. I don't know if the love I had always had for joey is the same or if i'm acting based off old emotions. I don't want to hurt anyone but I know someone is gonna get hurt. And for more reference tom joined the marines and isn't really in anyones life atm and diana is getting her veterinarian license. Joey just graduated from college and is joining the army in 3 months. I am just focused on my career and planning out my future with my boyfriend. What should I do. Joey and I have talked a lot about just rebuilding our friendship and getting to know each other again because the last we talked like this was 6 years ago so we definitely have grown and matured since. I love my boyfriend but I worry I still love joey.
TL;DR! - To sum everything up my first love confessed he's still in love with my and is willing to wait for me as long as he loves me. I confessed I still loved him when I was drunk. But I am planning out my future with my boyfriend.

Hello,
First time Reddit poster. Started watching in 1998 and wound down in 2011.
I read/hear a lot about how Shawn Michaels/HHH pulled a last minute swerve for Shawn to win the European Championship over The British Bulldog at the 1997 One Night Only PPV. The detractors say that although Shawn's excuse was that he was doing it for "heat" and to make the title mean something, he didn't really do much with it and treated it as an afterthought joke. The D-X vs Hart Foundation feud happened a little bit before I started tuning in, but over the last 10-15 years, especially with more "shoot" interviews available, books/articles published, etc. it's possible the narrative of what happened at One Night Only is a mischaracterization of Shawn Michaels.
What We Know: In 1997, The British Bulldog aka Davey Boy Smith -- a member of the heel stable, The Hart Foundation -- is the European Champion and is always expected to "go over" whenever the WWE travels to Europe. 9/20/97 is the One Night Only PPV, in Birmingham, England.
What has been said by a few sources: Up till the day of the show, Davey was under the assumption that he was not going to lose the title to Shawn Michaels, since England is obviously within Europe. What made this event extra special is that there had been a plan for him to be escorted to the ring by his sister who was sadly stricken with a terminal illness. There would've then been cheers all around for this valiant hero and the 11,000 fans would then be sent home happy with a feel-good story.
Here is where things get murky: The same sources state that Shawn and HHH decided to pull a fast one on Vince McMahon an hour or so before it was show time. The two demanded that Shawn beat Davey for the European Championship. Has Shawn or HHH ever independantly admitted that it was in that short of a turnaround and that the two went behind Davey's back? Even Jim Ross says that Davey was with Shawn and HHH when the idea to change the finish was pitched and blames Davey for not "protecting himself." That means Davey agreed and was not forced. As mentioned earlier, the excuse that has been used is that Shawn felt that it would be a great way to draw "heat" since there was very much a pro-Davey crowd watching and so the return match in the Spring of 1998 (when they headed back to not just the UK, but this time in Manchester which was The Bulldog's billed hometown) would have a massive redemption arc which would be that much greater for the fans. In the meantime, Shawn would have good matches and elevate the European Championship, something, quite frankly, he was better at than Davey. It ties into the reasoning that has been given in that Shawn (arguably being at the peak of his ability), would be able to make that title mean something (like what he did for the Intercontinental Championship).
However, because of the backstage Kliq stories which continue to come out, the manner in which Shawn later dropped the European Championship, and the fact that there really was no return match for Shawn vs. Davey since both were out of the WWE by then, many fans have pointed to this PPV as an "obvious" example of the weight Shawn and HHH carried backstage. In recent shoot interviews, Bret Hart (who would leave the WWF six weeks later in spectacular fashion) has said this match was simply a way to make Davey and the rest of the Harts look foolish.
What you can't deny is the heat in the arena, after the match, was white-hot.
Okay with that background established, let's look to see why I feel that what happened at the One Night Only PPV is a mischaracterization of Shawn Michaels:

• The Hart narrative.
  • It's hard to put a lot of stock into "he said, she said," but in case you want to take it as gospel...in Page 256 of Shawn's book (yeah, yeah, I know) Heartbreak & Triumph, he details that Davey was on board with the plans -- with no mentions of if it was pitched an hour before or days earlier. If fans are ready to believe Bret, why can't they leave wiggle room for Shawn?
    • While Shawn certainly has excuses (and apologized) for his sophomoric hijinx and makes himself sound like a creative genius, Bret has consistently come off as two things: 1) Making himself look heroic 2) Making himself look like he's had a perpetual gloomy cloud over him at every stage of life. His book, My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling, briefly mentions this match and some nonsense of how he "saw the light die in Davey's eyes that day, darkness seeping into a heart that was giving out."
  • Bret points to how Davey told everyone he expected to win, promised everyone that he was going to win the match for his English fans and especially his sister...as proof that Shawn swerved plans at the last minute just to needle the Harts ("It was designed to make us all look stupid." -- Inside The Ropes ).
    • What? There's literally thousands of instances where wrestlers lose in their hometown and use real life to push stories. And finishes change all the time. The new storyline made long term sense and Vince/Creative agreed. It could have been great, but no one expected Bulldog to quit six weeks later because of the Screwjob. No one expected Shawn's back injury to happen a couple months after that.
  • Diana Hart Smith (Davey's wife and Bret/Owen's sister) in 2012 said, regarding the changed finish, you "have to do what you're told." However, she is not credible, by Bret's own words, stemming from his reaction to a largely fictional biography on the Hart Family, written by Diana (Under the Mat).
• Davey was still booked to look strong, despite losing.
  • The RAW before the event, Davey had his knee "injured" from chair shots by HBK/HHH. And yet Davey still didn't "quit" when locked into the Figure Four at the PPV (even with HBK getting help from all the members of D-X). The match was stopped, akin to Stone Cold vs Bret Hart at WrestleMania 13. Diana Hart Smith even got involved in the post match antics with Chyna.
  • I don't believe, for a moment, the Hart family -- especially Bret -- didn't fully agree to how it all precisely happened especially when you're getting non-wrestlers involved inside the ring. If they wanted to change it, they could've.
    • There's been no mention from Bret about going to bat for Davey and them getting rejected.
• Bret Hart and the Hart Foundation still had a lot of backstage influence.
  • This wasn't Savio Vega or Dean Douglas eating an unnecessary pin. There is an established history of the Harts wanting to do things their way. Bret was World Champion and by far the highest paid wrestler on the roster so although Shawn had stroke, Bret certainly did too. And Davey had been with the company and had success far longer than Shawn (though in interrupted stages). DQ/Countout results are a common occurrence for situations where two powerful wrestlers/factions don't want to "job" to one another. In fact, the 10/6/97 RAW had Bret changing a finish where he was supposed to eat a pin from HHH (via HBK interference) into a Countout.
  • Yes, certainly, maturity was something Shawn and HHH lacked but you have to remember that unlike the Harts, they were not nepo-babies raised in the industry. And they were much younger (Shawn is 8 years younger than Bret whereas HHH is 12 years younger). Even Davey could be considered a nepo-baby since Dynamite Kid was his first cousin and he debuted in the WWF largely because Stu Hart cut a deal to include his son-in-law.
• Bret's possible thought process
  • My opinion (yes, speculation) is that Bret knew he was out the door and so he didn't care too much about what happened to Davey's European Championship since he had his own issues he was dealing with, regarding WCW contracts, Wrestling with Shadows, and dropping the World Championship. He mentioned how stressful all that was. What is fact though is that Davey wasn't someone Bret held in high regard. From talking about him not being able to construct matches, to being under the influence, to personal life issues, to even forcing Davey to cut his long braided hair because according to Davey's family, Bret said it was starting to look too much like his (even though it wasn't the same type nor color).
  • I also feel that with everything that happened between that period, and to Brian Pillman, Owen, and Davey dying very young, it understandably left an awful taste in their mouths. It all gets magnified a bit. Then add that Bret's time with WCW wasn't really anything extraordinary (for his standard), and his constant reminding us of how Goldberg ended his career makes me believe that there still is a grudge with HBK/HHH which will never truly go away. And unlike Shawn who seemingly has moved on, Bret hasn't. Which is why he keeps establishing the narrative that the Hart Foundation was always in the right and the D-X was always in the wrong.
• Finances
  • 1997, the WWF was in peril. House shows and merchandise were selling, but PPVs were not. Having a swerve on a PPV makes the next one "must see TV" (again, this was a world before streaming). In this instance, the next time they came to England. Nitro was still beating RAW.
• Storyline
  • Shawn had only recently turned heel (after SummerSlam, a month earlier). The plan was established from back then to have a heel Shawn face Austin at WrestleMania XIV. This was an era where there really was only one major show per week (and some on tape delay) and most fans did not have internet access at home, so establishing quick, obvious heat was important. What better way than to "screw" Davey in front of his fans and family? Beating Davey in the USA wasn't going to do it because, remember, Davey was a heel in the USA. 9/29/97 (two days later) Davey faced Vader in New York. Vader was about to beat him clean and then the Harts stormed in and used weapons on Vader, resulting in a DQ.
    • If not beat Davey, a former Intercontinental Champion, then who? The talent roster was quite thin and a memorable Undertaker program was upcoming. Also, Shawn had not had a singles belt since Feb 1997. Nevertheless, the ratings jumped towards the end of 1997.
• Defending the European Championship
  • How many of you remember Davey ever defending the European Championship on RAW or a PPV? From the moment he won it on 2/26/97, over the next seven months, he defended it only four times on non-house shows. Even if you include house shows, the vast majority of the defenses were in the USA so it was hardly a Europe-only belt. All the four RAW or PPV matches ended in DQ/Countout type finishes. I'll be honest, I haven't watched every single one of those matches but I do see that he beat HHH via pinfall, as one of his first defenses on 2/28/97. Davey regained the belt on 10/26/99 after he came back, but lost it six weeks later on 12/12/99 as he started spiraling, defending it only a handful of times on TV.
  • Shawn, unlike Davey, really could make that belt mean something so I do believe the Manchester return match in the Spring of 1998, after he dropped the World title to Austin, would've been big (not unlike Hart vs Bulldog at SummerSlam 1992). Even his most ardent haters will admit to HBK's talent. Yes, he dropped it to HHH in a comedic fashion on 12/11/97 but what was the alternative? With Bret leaving/gone and Shawn in a program with The Undertaker (who didn't need the European Championship since he was about to face Kane), as a World Champion (earlier than he thought he was going to be -- Screwjob plans were hatched later than Sept) him randomly losing the European title would've made him look bad even if it was lost in an underhanded fashion. Losing it to Owen could've been a possibility but Owen would win the Intercontinental Championship on 10/5/97 so that wouldn't really make sense neither. That said, the two of them faced one another on 10/20/97 in a title for title clash (No Contest). Owen later beat HHH for the European title on 2/26/98 (and then lost it back) and the two later had a WrestleMania XIV match for it. So dropping it to HHH made sense. Look at the roster back then and tell me who an alternative could have been?
  • Shawn gets a lot of heat for not defending the European title as often as some feel he should have. But as of 9/20/97, the WWE didn't know what Bret was going to do. Shawn infamously won the World Championship on 11/9/97. I'm not going to rehash the backstage Montreal play-by-play but I firmly believe that if Bret stayed with the WWE for a bit longer, Shawn would have had more time to have matches for the European title. The problem is everything happened so quickly. Unlike Davey, it's not like Shawn spent seven months as European Champion and defended it only four times on TV. Shawn did defend it three times on TV but in 2 1/2 months including an epic with Shamrock on RAW on 11/3/97, before he won the World title from Bret. Between a program with The Undertaker, leading D-X, and becoming World Champion sooner than he expected, there was no time (or really justification) to defend the European title even more often, when he had a program with Austin coming (in arguably the biggest title change in history).

TL:DR Even if (big, if) the finish was changed an hour before showtime, Davey agreed to the finish (with what I believe is with the Hart family on board -- but seeing how it all played out over the next few months and years left a bad taste and narrative change). Shawn winning the European Championship was what was best for business. Therefore Shawn flexing his backstage power "just because" or "only to hate on the Harts" makes zero sense.

I'm a 29 year old male and i will try to summarize the horrendous situation I find myself without leaving to many crucial details out. I was with my ex girlfriend for nearly 6 years. The red flags were present fromn the beggining but looking back I had no way to understand what they were at the time partly due to my young nievete and partly due to the fact that coming from a emotijallyabusive household I had normalized many of the more subtle behaviors and therefore they fell within a blindspot of my cognitive distortions at the time. From the very start she would begin punching herself in her own head if i ever became upset with her in any way or during any attempt to verbally work a problem out. I thought she was just a bit flippant and intense. Dare I say I almost found it attractive in a strange sense. She was and still to this day, stunningly beautiful and menacingly seductive and knows how she can have a significant effect on males especially without doing very much in the way of actions. Fast forward she unknown to me at the time discontinued her birth contorll pills while still assuring me she was taking them and ultimetly lied by telling me she had just to fund out she had become pregnant herself after missing a period. We were both in our mid to early 20s still more or less financially dependant on our parents and were living on public city streets in our tow behind rv with our 2 dogs. She was idealizing me and to be frank I remebr this period of time as the happiest iv been eever before and up untill now. This memory of "happiness" I think was the biggest reason it took me so long to finally start trying to advocate for my self respect instead of hanging my head and just ignoring the abuse so that I would get the sweet reward of psedo- intimacy with her a few times a week. Despite my fond memories looking back I see now what could only be described as patterns if coercive control that seriously escalated over the 5 years we were in a relationship with each other and included her beggining to cheat early on and the resulting systemic lies and relational damage from needing to formulate and bend the nature of reality around those lies. Her hot and cold treatment of me with any postive(hot) behavior usually at least in the last few years being exclusively sexual in nature and cold behavior usually manifesting as her stonewalling me and or simply disappearing for multiple days at a time sometimes. The day my son was born i accompanied her to the hospital and sat with her the entire time helped her push ans enouraged her with love. She treated me with indifference and disdain. Once our wonderful little boy came along this a became even worse. The sense that she was making it about him and her vs everyone else including me was strong. She became quite introverted secretive and "cliquey" with my newborn and at the same time seemed to loose all desire to be physically or emotionally intimate with me. (Of course i gave her plenty of time and space right after she gave birth amd was understanding that it might be a while before things were back to normal).it was almost like she had a new partner-our child. she refused to fully move in to the apartment my grandparents had spent a huge amint of money on to give us a chance at raising our soon in a healthy environment. She would start random and seemingly pointless arguments often escalating into her screaming mean things at me innfront of our 3 month old son like she ****ed me and then raging followed by quickly slamming the door and taking our infant son backto her mother's house where she would stonewall me for a few days then send me. A message that emotionally blackmailed me into taking full blame for the rupture and apologizing profusely. In addition she did not trust me with our son but had no reason not too and as a result gatekept him in an extremely overcintrolling and damaging(for him and for me) manner. to this day (he is 3.5] I have never spent the night alone with him and have had him 1 on 1 dad and son time signifigantly less than I should have and not for lack of trying on my part. Despite her overcontrolling coercive sabatoging and alienating actions my son and I formed a loving and beautiful bond that up untill I saw him last a few months ago has amazingly endured through the storm. The tradegy goes on and on but to wrap up ultimitely she purposefully betrayed me by starting a relationship with my good friend and had him suggest to me that he should move in so he became my roommate all the while lying to my roommate that I ht her and simultaneously having him report back to her on my whereabouts at any Givin time and the things I said about her when venting after a prticulringly humiliating attempt to see my son or similar interaction and also give her info about what I was doing during the day. He became quite controlling himself and severed to further isolate me from people that weren't trying to ruin my life. They started to play mindgames with me that ibsee now attempts to gage how much I knew or suspected about what was going on. Mind you my son who was around 2 at this point was privy to the whole thing it was only kept a secret from me and due to this my son was coached to not tell me about it although what was actually said I will never know. Eventually a mutual friend of my roommate and I reached out and told me he had seen my roommate "playing dad" with my girl and son at dollar tree that day. I remebrr that day I sat at a local park in my car sullen and confused having been led on via sms from her only to randomly stop responding and never managing to get any time with my son. This sort of thing had become a regular occurance She then began withholding my son all togethar simply not answering at all or lying about him being asleep ridiculously early in the afternoon etc etc. My own parents failed to suppprt me and are still failing to show any sort of care other than somehwat monitarily. In fact my mom and her were two peas in a pod and my mom activly participated in the emotional abuse partly becauee of being manipulated by her partly because my mother is emotionally abusive. If I had better support or access to court resources at the time I'm confident things would have gone much differently but I was so isolated and lonely and in a deep state of despair at this point and the only thing I still was enduring for was the brief and inconsistent times i got with my boy whom I love more than life itself. I managed to get a hold of her via phone at this point and said i was going to go to court and pursue custody since she seemed unwilling to value my valid role as father. Her mom and her immediately became overly nice and invited me over where they sat me down and offered to make a visitation schedule and kindly suggested I dident go to court. It wasent much but it was signifgantly more respect than I had been shown any instance prior so I gobbled up the manipulations and left feeling invigorated and hopeful. The schedule was never adhered too and within a few days it was back to me not even be able to get a hold of her let alone see my son. The final day I saw him before things blew up I went over to her house in the evening. My son wanted to play hot wheels so we began to line them up on the floor but my ex was hovering over us with a hostile air. I asked if we could have some space or if at least she could sit down and play with us and she just kept standing there glaring at me. This made me uncomfortable and my son noticed this by sayig daddy play with me! Upon hearing this she in a angry tone said "play with your effin kid isent that what you wanted to do soooooo badly" right in front of him. I asked not to be spoken to in front of him like that and she went and got her mom and started whispering abut me to her mom in the hallway while they watched my son and I. I got up and said I'm leaving this is innappropriate and she said "wow that checks out you harrass me to see your son and then you don't even wanna see him. how pathetic and typical" " you just want to stress me out dont you" you don't actually give 2 you know what's about him" right in front of my son again. I speechlessly went to leave and my son comes running after me begging me to wait. I'm on the verge of tears and i picked him up cherishing how warm he was and how lovingly he was clinging to me. I tentatively requested I be allowed to go for a walk with him around the block and her mom this time dismissively says ya go and shoos us out the door. I get down the driveway and my ex comes sprinting out of the house tears streaming down her face and a look of rage and starts hitting me while I'm holding our son. Amazingly he start4d pushing her away saying mommy stop mommy stop. She says you have 5 minutes or I'm calling the cops and goes back in. I walk him around the block and say "mommy's feeling sad right now but it doesn't mean that either one of us loves you any more or any less than we used to and it's absolutely not your fault." I go back inside and without saying anything I walk up to her and give her a hug wich my son joins in too. All the sudden she is happy again and trying to speak to me in a casual tone but I basically just leave without saying much else. After this a week of no contact with my son occurs which at the time was the longest we had gone apart I felt like I had no choice but to confront her and assert my rights AGAIN although looking back I feel terribley silly for thinking she was going to repsect me at that point. Keep in mind i ALWAYS was extrmely respectful of her space and never would just show up at her moms house even though our relationahip by many accounts was more than informal ennough to make an occasionaI drop in to say hi. In addition she on Many occasions had told me that I could just come by if she didn't Answer her phone or simular situation arose. I texted her I was coming by to say goodnight to my son and phrased it as a statement not a question or request. I was already on the way when I sent the message and so I arrived (unintentionally)before her being able to fully respond to it to see my romate come running out of the front door (this is when I first had proof ab about all the stuff I mentioned earlier about their secret relationship) and go hide in the bushes, her poke her head out the door and then shut and lock it and turn all the lights in the house out and close the blinds. I walk up to the door and knock to no avail and so I confront her about what i know and saw via sms. She directly denies all my proof and accusations and then after calling me crazy and a stalker blocks me on all channels of communication. I go back to my car and collapse in tears and ultimtly fall asleep. I wake up to see her quickly shoving a duffel bag and my son into her moms car and her and my roommate get in and she pulls quickly away. Upon passing me on her way to the main road she becomes aware that im still there in my car and she burns rubber and begins driving extremely fast and erratically. In a moment of panic I knew she was probably trying to go into hiding with my son to prevent me from evrr seeing him again and I fearing for the safety of my son and our relationship I regrettably felt compelled to follow. We got on the freeway where she initiatied speeds of 100 plus miles perhour weaving in between semi's and this sort of thing continued d for an hour in the interim I had called 911 and also she had pulled up too a gas station casually got out and pumped gas upon her getting back in the car I witnessed my roommate making derogatory and taunting sexual gestures referring to my ex and also what i can only describe as cuddling with my son in the back seat and became enraged and made some threatening motions with a large wooden shovel handle while standing next to her car that were directed at my betraying friend and I feel terrible for doing in front of my child but in the moment I was so desperate and upset by the psychological torture i had been through it clouded my normally good judgment. In the end the police couldn't locate us due to my 911 call continually being transfered fron highway patrol dispatch back to whatever city we were in at the times dispatch. Also ultimetly no physical harm or even any other attempts happend or anything to anyone of the people involved and eventually I gave up and drove back to my hometown. She immediately filed for a domestic violence restraining order and used a recording she took of me looking aggressive and threatening outside her car as proof im abusive and violent even though i have never been either of those things. Especially not violent. I may not have been the most mature or experienced or attentive partner for some of our relationship but anything I did was truly a far cry from the serious emotional anguish I have ben subjected to here and not abusive. I did not lie, cheat,manipulate, gaslight, trick, triangulate, turn family againts or ever feel superior or entitled to harm or use her in any way. I loved her and she did all those to me and now is trying to steal the most precious thing I have left in the world from me so she can emotionally scar him with her idea of what good parenting is which in truth is emotional abuse.. She moved my old roommate in to her moms house full time the very next day and from what I hear they both are abusing meth and who knows what else currently plus this guy is not somone that is safe around my son to that degree. He is not a healthy safe adult for such a young boy and in addition he is vindictive and dislikes me mostly because my ex told him I hit her and abused her which are absolutely complete lies. I'm facing a situation now where I have to sit by and watch my son turned agsints me and withheld from me and abused and eveyone treats me like im the abuser. I have tried to contact every dv organization in my local area and as soon as they hear what happend it's almost like I can Feel the switch flip and in the moment it's evident that all the abuse that I had recounted surviving through doesn't matter because I'm some "unhinged abusive guy that chases people down the freeway" eveyone I have reached out to locally has invalidated me and berrated me for "what I did" and successfully pathologized what I consider to be a huge mistake that I feel very regretful for loosing my composure but also a rather understandable emotional reaction to severe mistreatment and fear for my son. I'm beggining to feel so isolated riding the emotional Rollercoaster of self doubt and powerlessness that this abuse at the hands of my ex but dare I say worse yet the abuse by way of victim blame and invalidation from these people and organizations that exist to help dv survivors has caused me. which because I reacted I'm not worthy of being included as a survivor. Cn you offer any advice or support or suggestions? I'm terrified for my sons wellbeing currently and haven't been able to see him in going on 2.5 months now clear and to be clear the domestic violence restraining order is still temporary. I have the final hearing in August.i

TL;DR : (M18) turning 19 in August and (F20) This is our 3rd time breaking up along with our 2nd cancelled engagement with plenty of separations and rekindling throughout our entire 4+ years knowing eachother. We’ve done a lot of growing up together as well as apart and over the years we’ve both done eachother wrong but we’ve also done so so so much for eachother as well. However, it was always me who was less mature and messing up more. I recently messed up once again and in a state of high emotion on both sides, she was fed up and said We were never getting back together. Will I ever get one last chance with her?
Please, I miss her so much and I’m willing to do anything just for one final chance. I love her and I’m IN love with her with all my heart and soul bro. I am extremely attached, connected, and emotionally invested in this girl and we have been through so much together. I desire(more than anything else in the world) a future with her.
For more context:
Our first time breaking up, I had just turned 15 and she was 16. Her and I barely even dated for a couple months before I had indirectly and immaturely broken up with her by leaving it “upto her” because of me wanting to talk to other girls, but her and I still ended up talking and being flirtatious anyway. But then we had separated because of me getting my phone taken away for months. She had started talking to someone else who was MUCH MUCH older than her and was grooming hevery toxic to her but out of strange obligation, she stayed with him anyway although she really just wanted to be with me. Her and I still remained as close as ever although she had to turn me down twice when I wanted to rekindle things. Later on, I had got my phone back and as we entered into the next school year( she turned 17 and I turned 16) we grew closer and closer and feelings developed stronger and stronger meanwhile her relationship with him was getting worse and worse and they were having multiple breakups as well. She even at one point expressed to me that she was on the verge of breaking up with him and very bluntly hinted at as well as indirectly told me she wanted to leave him for me. But ultimately after she knew that my hopes were all up and everything she ended up just choosing him over me anyway and leaving me hanging. a couple months afterwards she posting vulgar things on social media with the caption “I’ll suck my man d#%k fr” or something along those lines. That’s when I fully moved on and went on to get in multiple relationships/“situationships” over the course of that year. Until fast forward to November 2023, she comes back and we very very quickly rekindle/get back together. over the course of that year, because of my porn and masturbation addiction we’ve separated as well as had many issues interfering with my attraction of her because of my skewed image of women and interfering with us having proper sex or intimacy without my fetishes being involved. Fast forward to August, I ended up falling into watching porn for almost my entire birthday week behind her back while she was working so hard to eventually bring me gifts on that day which I later confessed to the following month. We separated for 3 days and this is when I finally started taking my walk with the lord seriously.(she began months ahead of me and she was the one that even introduced me to Christianity in the first place)(her entirely family is Christian) 2 months pass and a couple days after I propose to her for the first time and posting about it? a girl I used to talk to had replied to my iG story congratulating me and as we talked and catched up, I fell to temptation once again and ended up saying more than I should have/inappropriate things but by the time I realized what I was doing and ended it. It was too late and I confessed to her immediately. after a couple of days, she took me home from work and broke up with me. We talked about it over text an hour or so later and agreed we would be going no contact for a month, but over that period we constantly broke it(I even indirectly tried killing myself with alcohol and drunk texted her to which she was very sympathetic to and when I ended up blacking out she was terrified and prayed all night over me and even reached out to friends of mine to make sure I was okay.) fast forward, she ends it early and we rekindle. Fast forward to either late March or April 2024, I fall into looking at iG couples art and ecchi aesthetic art aka softcore porn and I confess to her afterwards. She’s initially upset but she stays with me.
Later on down the line I begin to question my faith entirely and my foundation crumbles after following the teachings of fallible men/cult leaders and mainly doing it for her and because I loved hewanted to bond with her and not actually seeking the truth for myself(although I had my moments of genuinely being curious and wanting to discover it for myself.) However, she was still just as firmly rooted in her faith as ever and maturing even more. On the contrary, I grow weak and undisciplined in my flesh, I fall back into bad habits, I stop reading the word, praying, fasting, I isolate myself from fellowship. And as it gets harder and harder to resist my sexual urges and with her unwavering on her boundaries of no sex before marriage and etc. I fell back into masturbation but eventually back into porn as well(softcore stuff again mainly but I slipped into some fetish stuff too) and it was over the course of a couple days again with me feeling very guilty and being afraid to tell heI just wanted to repent of it and be done but she ended up getting dream a about it and asked me about it the very next day to which I was honest with her and confessed. Then after however many minutes go by and her breaking up with me a third time with her saying “We are done.” and “We will see” “Love you, Bye” instead of taking the advice everyone was giving me and giving her time and space from jump. I pressed her, begged/pleaded, and blew up her messages making it worse and aggravating her until she followed up with the next day with telling me “Sure I’ll let you know where we stand”We are never getting back together.”
I panicked and went into a high emotional state myself and went to her house late at night(1 or 2 am), and pressed her even more begging and pleading. But this made it worse as well and she had said “what us? there is no us” “go home” “you did what you did”and etc while pushing me out and slamming the door in my face. She originally only talked to her mother about it but because of my stupid decisions while being emotional I unintentionally involved everyone else in it. Her older sister’s husband went through a very similar situation with the older sister and had offered to talk to me about it along with everyone else. But when I followed up later on that day it created a misunderstanding and I ended up getting blocked by him and her older sister after she texts me on her older sister’s phone saying the same exact hurtful and cold/seemingly detached things and after begging and pleading to call, we did but it only made it that much worse. I tried to explain my side of things the best I could while being highly emotional but she didn’t want to hear any of it and proceeded to say even more hurtful, cold, seemingly, detached things, cussed me out, then hung up in my face and blocked me. This whole breakup was very messy and happened over the course of barely 3 days.
I’m still in contact with her mom and I recently contacted her dad as well(parents are divorced) and he had told me she never even mentioned anything to him about it which goes to show I made things worse/unnecessarily involved other people in it that otherwise might not have been involved.
Now I’m giving her proper time and space but I’m still extremely anxious/uncertain about where things will go from here.
(I ask that you be honest but also open minded/considerate in responses please, this all happened over the span of a couple of days and I’m still very fresh in the grieving process)
What do you all think about this situation? (I especially want to hear from a female perspective)

We were talking about some movie quotes and we went to a point were I said that if I’ll die, my last words is I love you, or saying I love you over and over again. We were bantering and I ended up joking along the lines like “no, that’s impossible because I have to die before you”. And he said “no, I have to because I can’t live without you”. I replied back, “yeh, but who is gonna bury me? You’re my only family babe”, his mood kinda change to serious and tried to lighten up by saying, “dw babe, this is just s joke ”. We turned silent and I tried to change the topic and he looked at me and he cried and I cried along with him. I just joked “no matter what happens, don’t bury me in ph 😂”. He assured me by saying he is gong to take care of me and help me with the life I want. That I have been through a lot. Tbh, I’m already grateful of him in giving me a good start beside that I love him. In the back of my mind, even if we broke or divorce in the future, I will forever thank him for helping me to get out of my situation and live the life I have been desiring since childhood. A life with basic rights.
Context as to why: You can check my previous posts to have clearer reasons. My own soon-to-be-enstranged family wants me to be killed. I grew up with abusive parents. I still have an ample time that they spare me for masters as an excuse and I am using it in planning to cut off them off indefinitely. Pagod na ako sa kultong pamilya na ito. Pagod na ako tratohing aso.

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

TL;DR : (M18) turning 19 in August and (F20) This is our 3rd time breaking up along with our 2nd cancelled engagement with plenty of separations and rekindling throughout our entire 4+ years knowing eachother. We’ve done a lot of growing up together as well as apart and over the years we’ve both done eachother wrong but we’ve also done so so so much for eachother as well. However, it was always me who was less mature and messing up more. I recently messed up once again and in a state of high emotion on both sides, she was fed up and said We were never getting back together. Will I ever get one last chance with her?
Please, I miss her so much and I’m willing to do anything just for one final chance. I love her and I’m IN love with her with all my heart and soul bro. I am extremely attached, connected, and emotionally invested in this girl and we have been through so much together. I desire(more than anything else in the world) a future with her.
For more context:
Our first time breaking up, I had just turned 15 and she was 16. Her and I barely even dated for a couple months before I had indirectly and immaturely broken up with her by leaving it “upto her” because of me wanting to talk to other girls, but her and I still ended up talking and being flirtatious anyway. But then we had separated because of me getting my phone taken away for months. She had started talking to someone else who was MUCH MUCH older than her and was grooming hevery toxic to her but out of strange obligation, she stayed with him anyway although she really just wanted to be with me. Her and I still remained as close as ever although she had to turn me down twice when I wanted to rekindle things. Later on, I had got my phone back and as we entered into the next school year( she turned 17 and I turned 16) we grew closer and closer and feelings developed stronger and stronger meanwhile her relationship with him was getting worse and worse and they were having multiple breakups as well. She even at one point expressed to me that she was on the verge of breaking up with him and very bluntly hinted at as well as indirectly told me she wanted to leave him for me. But ultimately after she knew that my hopes were all up and everything she ended up just choosing him over me anyway and leaving me hanging. a couple months afterwards she posting vulgar things on social media with the caption “I’ll suck my man d#%k fr” or something along those lines. That’s when I fully moved on and went on to get in multiple relationships/“situationships” over the course of that year. Until fast forward to November 2023, she comes back and we very very quickly rekindle/get back together. over the course of that year, because of my porn and masturbation addiction we’ve separated as well as had many issues interfering with my attraction of her because of my skewed image of women and interfering with us having proper sex or intimacy without my fetishes being involved. Fast forward to August, I ended up falling into watching porn for almost my entire birthday week behind her back while she was working so hard to eventually bring me gifts on that day which I later confessed to the following month. We separated for 3 days and this is when I finally started taking my walk with the lord seriously.(she began months ahead of me and she was the one that even introduced me to Christianity in the first place)(her entirely family is Christian) 2 months pass and a couple days after I propose to her for the first time and posting about it? a girl I used to talk to had replied to my iG story congratulating me and as we talked and catched up, I fell to temptation once again and ended up saying more than I should have/inappropriate things but by the time I realized what I was doing and ended it. It was too late and I confessed to her immediately. after a couple of days, she took me home from work and broke up with me. We talked about it over text an hour or so later and agreed we would be going no contact for a month, but over that period we constantly broke it(I even indirectly tried killing myself with alcohol and drunk texted her to which she was very sympathetic to and when I ended up blacking out she was terrified and prayed all night over me and even reached out to friends of mine to make sure I was okay.) fast forward, she ends it early and we rekindle. Fast forward to either late March or April 2024, I fall into looking at iG couples art and ecchi aesthetic art aka softcore porn and I confess to her afterwards. She’s initially upset but she stays with me.
Later on down the line I begin to question my faith entirely and my foundation crumbles after following the teachings of fallible men/cult leaders and mainly doing it for her and because I loved hewanted to bond with her and not actually seeking the truth for myself(although I had my moments of genuinely being curious and wanting to discover it for myself.) However, she was still just as firmly rooted in her faith as ever and maturing even more. On the contrary, I grow weak and undisciplined in my flesh, I fall back into bad habits, I stop reading the word, praying, fasting, I isolate myself from fellowship. And as it gets harder and harder to resist my sexual urges and with her unwavering on her boundaries of no sex before marriage and etc. I fell back into masturbation but eventually back into porn as well(softcore stuff again mainly but I slipped into some fetish stuff too) and it was over the course of a couple days again with me feeling very guilty and being afraid to tell heI just wanted to repent of it and be done but she ended up getting dream a about it and asked me about it the very next day to which I was honest with her and confessed. Then after however many minutes go by and her breaking up with me a third time with her saying “We are done.” and “We will see” “Love you, Bye” instead of taking the advice everyone was giving me and giving her time and space from jump. I pressed her, begged/pleaded, and blew up her messages making it worse and aggravating her until she followed up with the next day with telling me “Sure I’ll let you know where we stand”We are never getting back together.”
I panicked and went into a high emotional state myself and went to her house late at night(1 or 2 am), and pressed her even more begging and pleading. But this made it worse as well and she had said “what us? there is no us” “go home” “you did what you did”and etc while pushing me out and slamming the door in my face. She originally only talked to her mother about it but because of my stupid decisions while being emotional I unintentionally involved everyone else in it. Her older sister’s husband went through a very similar situation with the older sister and had offered to talk to me about it along with everyone else. But when I followed up later on that day it created a misunderstanding and I ended up getting blocked by him and her older sister after she texts me on her older sister’s phone saying the same exact hurtful and cold/seemingly detached things and after begging and pleading to call, we did but it only made it that much worse. I tried to explain my side of things the best I could while being highly emotional but she didn’t want to hear any of it and proceeded to say even more hurtful, cold, seemingly, detached things, cussed me out, then hung up in my face and blocked me. This whole breakup was very messy and happened over the course of barely 3 days.
I’m still in contact with her mom and I recently contacted her dad as well(parents are divorced) and he had told me she never even mentioned anything to him about it which goes to show I made things worse/unnecessarily involved other people in it that otherwise might not have been involved.
Now I’m giving her proper time and space but I’m still extremely anxious/uncertain about where things will go from here.
(I ask that you be honest but also open minded/considerate in responses please, this all happened over the span of a couple of days and I’m still very fresh in the grieving process)
What do you all think about this situation? (I especially want to hear from a female perspective)

For the past year I’ve been dating my gf. We met in 8th grade at the time she had a boyfriend so whenever I would make advances they’d just get shut down. We rekindled my senior year of high school when I discovered her instagram page. At the time I didn’t know if she was currently in a relationship and didn’t really care to ask. We made small talk here and there but never anything flirtatious or sexually suggestive. One day she texted me and asked if I wanted her to hook me up with one of her friends, so of course me being me I accepted the offer. She then proceeded to ask me if I was a cheater, I told her no. She then asked for my number to put us into contact and right after I sent it. She texted me on iMessage stating that she thinks we’d make a good couple. I had been tricked. And in this moment when I read her text I couldn’t help but feel like the nice guy who finished last and got what was left over. we started chatting again more frequently and this was probably at the peak of my “hoe phase” I had just recently got a car gifted to me by my loving parents. So as a horny teen who just recently graduated I was doing bad. Seeing girls daily (intimately) sometimes even two. So as you could imagine I was not in the mental head space to jump into a relationship especially seeing that I’ve never been in one. Mind you she knew the type of guy I was, Because during my “hoe phase” I would publicize me going on dates with various girls on my instagram story cause I thought it was cool and my buddies would always ask how can I maneuver so carelessly and still have women that still put up with me. Around this time we weren’t in a relationship yet so their wasn’t any consequences for my actions. She’d see it complain then brush it off. But seeing that I did use to like this girl a lot…and I mean a lot, Just to put it into perspective for you on how delusional and down bad I was. When we first started chatting again, I went to our old Snapchat messages and reread every single one which took about 3 hours and they were so cringey and sappy to me that I took the time to delete every single one. (She was one of those weird people who’d saved the messages instead of letting them automatically delete after 24 hours) I felt like I had to do this because I didn’t want her to have any recollection of that desperate version of myself. Fast forward a few weeks and we went on our first date. I decided to take things slow with her by limiting myself to only kissing and fingering her. Then About a month after that is when we first had sex. And it felt exactly like I expected it to…magical. It was like we were two bodies who were meant for each other that finally met. Fast forward a few more months now it’s time for her to go off to college and when she left I slowly started reverting back into my old ways of seeing multiple girls a week and being promiscuous. This continued up until about January the next year when I got caught. Long story short, she cried I cried and we both decided that we’d like to move forward. During this season of our relationship I was constantly feeling guilt so much to the point where I ever considered suicide. I was constantly in my head saying things like “is it even worth it” “she probably doing it too and you just don’t know” “leave her” “it’ll never work” “you won’t regain her trust” “our relationship is irreparable” “don’t waste anymore of your youthful years on this failing relationship”. And with due time these negative thoughts stopped consuming my mind and we actually started doing better. I quit my job moved in with her and started working remotely. At this point in my life I couldn’t be any happier. It felt like a dream come true. All it took was one weekend and all of this ended. At this point it’s around spring break so all the surrounding colleges are having parties. I devised a plan to pick all the boys and go on a little road trip. We hit different colleges daily to party, drink and smoke and the biggest of incentive all, to meet girls. Looking back on it, this was a recipe for disaster. On one particular night I uploaded a video of me getting twerked on my by a girl to my close friends on instagram not remembering that she was still included in it. And before I could even sober up and realize what the fuck I’ve just done she eventually saw it and messaged me stating that this is her last time and “we’re done”. In this moment when I read the text while being drunk & high I just couldn’t find it in me to care or fight for our relationship. So I just thought to myself “ok”. As the night proceeded I found myself in some random suite where a girl approached me and began express her interest in me and long story short I ended up cheating. When all the fun was over and I dropped all the guys back home. I was still tasked with having to drive my girlfriend m back to her dorm cause she stayed with family for the weekend. I didn’t want to take her but no other buses were departing and everyone who she could’ve possibly asked was already preoccupied or just didn’t feel like doing a 4 hour drive there and back. And plus before all this turmoil I had already promised to her that I’d drive her back. I go to pick her up and she’s all moody and for the first 3 hours of the ride she gives me silent treatment. And the first words out of her mouth were “you know when we get back to my dorm you’re packing your shit and leaving right?” At first I didn’t respond. I laughed actually, not hysterically but more of a “wow after all we been thru you’re really ending this?” Laugh. All types of thoughts started racing thru my head. Part of me wanted to serve the car in front of an oncoming 18 wheeler but then I remembered that she’s still here with me and as ironic as it sounds I’d never want to hurt her, especially in a way that could result in fatality. The laughing slowly turned into silent tears. The pain I was feeling in my stomach was so excruciating it felt as if I had just been stabbed with a 10 foot sword repeatedly over and over and over again. I eventually started uncontrollably crying and spewing out my feelings. While doing this I confessed to cheating on her and told how I’d been long before that weekend. I pulled over to the side of the interstate in the middle of nowhere with no reception got out and just started crying even harder so she couldn’t see. I felt like my life had been ruined and the only person I could blame for it was myself. I eventually got back in and started driving in silence again. After all that crying with the added partying the past week and weekend I must’ve been real tired cause I started to doze off which I usually don’t. I’ve taken the drive enough to become accustomed to it and have built up enough stamina to make it all the way through without having to fight the feeling of tiredness. She noticed this and offered to take the wheel which I respectfully declined. I then told her I’d be pulling over to the side of the road to catch a quick 2 minute nap. I typically do this whenever I’m on extra long drives and my friends know me for it. I set a 2 minute timer on my phone and let my body temporarily rejuvenate as much as possible. And chances are they usually fall asleep too. Because I’d literally rather trust myself to drive tired before I let one of my unlicensed friends behind the wheel. I put my head down for what felt like 10 seconds and woke up to her nudging my shoulder saying that 7 minutes have passed. This bothered me because if I was so tired to the point I myself didn’t hear the alarm she should have came to the realization that I was genuinely tired and let me rest a little longer. But because it was her birthday she probably overlooked this aspect of my situation because she was just tooeager to get to her own birthday party that her friends had started without her. I began driving again will still tired and now aggravated from being woken up. I began to speed at this point we’re 40 miles away from our destination. The tiredness began to take over again and before I knew it I wake up to the screaming of my name as the car is slowly drifting off the road and I’m stuck in mud on the side of the interstate. A state trooper and tow truck arrive to assess the situation and we end up taking a Uber the rest of the way. At this point I’m stranded. I spent my last on tow truck fees and don’t even have anything saved up to pay for the mechanic fees, let alone worry about gas money. We somehow managed talk and temporarily bandaid the under lying issue and sleep in the same bed that night but things progressively kept on getting worse and worse as the days went on. It got so bad to the point where we slept in different rooms, Or so I thought. The morning after I go into her room to check on her and see paper towels and her sitting up still crying in the same position she was the night before. I on the other hand actually slept pretty well. She then came into my room still with water in her cute pearly big eyes. And to my surprise sat down directly on my lap and told me how she couldn’t get no sleep. We hugged and talked and cried then ultimately came to the conclusion that our relationship is worth more than my stupid mistakes and I have some more maturing to do.

First/Previous
"Watch out!" Jack yelled out to the crowd as the now-glowing overhead turrets, long dormant and forgotten, suddenly whirred to life with a mechanical hum, tracking his movements as he ran, shoving past a group of unsuspecting Xarak to the side as he moved to dodge the torrent of rapid fire aimed right at him, kicking up smoke as the superheated plasma churned the ground underneath him, before the sound of gunfire abruptly stopped.
"Fucking overheating shittubes!" the voice on the speakers cursed. "The Outsider is by the two broken pillars!"
"I see him!" a voice replied from out of the crowd as Jack got his bearings, spotting a group of three uniformed soldiers rushing towards him. As the leader moved to stab him with a nasty-looking barbed shortspear, Jack quickly juked the direction he intended to dodge, dipping to the right as he smashed the avian in the stomach with a vicious kick, shuffling back as he caught the blade of the second soldier with his bracer before throwing them off balance, lashing back at the first with his elbow as he did.
He moved to check the third that was moving to take a swing at him with a bat, but before Jack could do so the soldier was suddenly yanked back as a long, coiled leather whip snapped around them. Following along, Jack spotted an older grey-skinned ganger in black leathers with a coarse, black beard to match his scraggly hair sat down with his back to a wall, casually drinking a beer as he observed the chaos with a mischievous smirk.
As the soldier pulled back his bat to strike the interloper, the ganger grinned and looked down where his legs were already spread wide, revealing a strange metal crotch plate. Suddenly making a jerking motion with one of his legs, the plate flipped up to reveal the barrel of a huge codpiece gun that flipped up to point directly at the soldier, before it fired once, catching the solder completely by surprise as the top of their body was utterly obliterated by a bolt of powerful plasma energy. Smirking, the ganger gave Jack a wink, chugging down the rest of his drink, before charging into the brawl.
Hearing an almighty roar, Jack turned around only to be knocked back yet again as a broken, avian body was roughly lobbed at him, staggering him backwards as the Redeemer turned to the last of the bird-like gangsters, picking him up with immense strength and smashing them to the ground before advancing towards the human more cautiously this time, shoving drunken brawlers out of the way.
“I have long waited for this moment, Outsider. With your death, my King shall grant you redemption!” The Redeemer snarled. Now having a good look at him, Jack couldn’t see any visible weapons on him, which was strange. Last time, he’d brought a gunship and was taking potshots at him with some kind of high-powered rifle. Then again, considering what happened last time, maybe The Redeemer wanted the satisfaction of using his bare hands to beat him to death.
It wouldn’t be a terrible plan considering everything the Ogar had pulled off so far…
While sports on Earth were often separated by gender, despite some resistance from the more liberal-minded, due to biological differences between men and women, combat sports were a whole different game, with mixed martial arts organisations having very specific weight classes for fair competition between athletes, with two fighters of similar size and weight less likely to cause serious injury to each other.
But if you placed an experienced lightweight against even a novice heavyweight? That would introduce major problems for the smaller fighter, who would need to contend with the extra size, reach and power of their larger opponent. Not an impossible fight, but a tough one.
And Jack very much felt like a lightweight here.
Though of course, he had faced larger opponents before. Even an Ogar, though they had defeated the Laird with a cunning trap. However, he didn’t know how well matched he and The Redeemer were in a fair close-range fight outside of the opening moments of the ambush.
Still, he had little choice but to find out. He didn’t have an easy way to escape, and he didn’t know what the status of the others was. If he ran while they were still here then The Redeemer and the Regulators would simply go after them instead to get to him…
No. He couldn’t allow those thoughts to shake him. His friends knew what the hell they were doing, and they could handle themselves just fine. He had to worry about himself right now.
He couldn’t run, so he had to fight.
With a speed he didn’t expect from The Redeemer, they grabbed a nearby chair and lobbed it right at Jack in one smooth motion before following through with another charge.
‘Aegis!’ Jack yelled as he brought his forearm up, as his new and improved shield eagerly sprung up to take the hit from the chair, before a fist smacked into the side of his head as The Redeemer used the chair as a distraction to change his angle of attack.
Spinning with the blow, Jack fought in his mind to stay in the fight as his vision blurred, with the powerful strike threatening to knock him out then and there, before another fist caught him in the stomach, with his battleskin dispersing a hit that would have otherwise easily taken the air out of his lungs.
Retracting his shield, Jack ducked another punch that threatened to decapitate him as he skidded under the blow, parrying a backfist with his forearm that tingled painfully as he ate the blow, before clocking the Redeemer with a punch to the jaw, his gauntlet extending to cover his knuckles with a well-forged plate of metal to add their power to the strike, before the Redeemer threw out a punch that caught him on the shoulder, sending the deathworlder reeling back.
Jack grit his teeth as he fought through the pain, adrenaline rushing through him. He wasn’t out of the fight yet, but he knew he’d gotten the worst of that engagement.
The Redeemer clearly understood this as well, as the zealot strode towards the human with a confident, wicked grin.
But this time, Jack was ready.
‘Caltrops’ Jack whispered the command word, as his gauntlets gave him a good handful of them, subtly tossing them in front of him with an underhand throw, which had gone unnoticed by the Redeemer as they stared at the human with hatred.
Suddenly dashing forward to quickly close the remaining distance between them, the Redeemer roared as he charged Jack again, suddenly grunting in pain and stumbling as his full, heavy mass sent a sharp, painful spike straight through his armoured boot, causing him to lose focus as he looked down at his foot for just a moment to see what had happened.
A moment of distraction that Jack used to its fullest, as he quickly swung his axe down right at The Redeemer’s head.
However, the Ogar reacted with surprising dexterity as he used his forward momentum to avoid the full force of the axeblade, his metal helmet taking a glancing blow as he shoved Jack off balance, causing him to stumble. Quickly predicting what would come next, Jack dropped his axe on purpose as he prepared for a takedown attempt, dropping low and widening his stance as the Redeemer tackled him around the waist to try and bring him to the ground for a quick finish.
“There will be no salvation for you, human!” The Ogar growled through his pain as Jack was forced back by the Redeemer’s superior strength.
“Aww, did you miss me?” Jack taunted, holding on and walking back with the ever increasing momentum The Redeemer was building as he was pushed back along the dancefloor. “I saw your tantrum on the TV afterwards, didn’t know you were a bitch too!”
‘That’s it, asshole.’ Jack thought to himself as he felt his axe clip back onto his back. ‘Get mad. You showed me last time that you like to talk too much. I need to time this right…'
“Your blasphemy ends here Outsider! I shall smite you in the name of my King!” The insane zealot roared out in an enraged challenge.
With a roar the Redeemer pushed with much greater strength, forcing Jack to change his slow backpedalling into a full on sprint as he scrambled to stay on his feet, fighting to keep his grip above that of the Redeemer’s to maintain his control of the grapple for as long as he could as he was gradually being put off-balance, almost being lifted upwards.
‘I’ve got to hold on until the last possible moment…’ Jack thought to himself, as tables, chairs and people alike were battered to the side.
‘Now!’
As the wooden pillar supporting the balcony passed them in a blur, Jack shifted his weight to the left and relinquished the grapple, using the Redeemer’s momentum against him as he shoved the Redeemer off balance, as they smashed into the crumbling brick wall head first with an almighty crash.
As they stumbled back, yanking their head back out through the newly formed hole, Jack growled as grabbed the Redeemer around the top of one of his legs, yelling with effort as he was only just able to lift the Redeemer up and over him, slamming the Ogar down on the top of his head as hard as he could in a vicious suplex that gave a satisfying crack.
Growling with effort, the Redeemer pushed himself back into a crouch and looked up just in time as Jack’s foot smacked into the side of his head in a savage kick that cracked his metal helmet and dislodged one of his fangs. Roaring in rage and pain, the Redeemer got to his feet only to meet a flying knee that shattered his nose as his helmet cracked and dented with the heavy impacts.
“Redeem that you ugly cunt!” Jack growled, moving in for another strike as the Redeemer shoved him away, showing no signs of faltering as he slowly got to his feet, even after the devastating blows he just took. The Redeemer simply gave Jack a wicked grin of satisfaction, before it fell slightly upon seeing something to Jack’s side.
As Jack’s Ring of the Berserker vibrated again, he spun around to spot a large, lanky Vivren with several piercings in overt heavy armour grinning at him with malicious intent as she pointed a wand at him and cast a word of power.
Before he had any time to react, Jack’s entire body erupted in a wave of agony unlike anything he had ever felt before…
*****
“Fuck! Alora! Sephy? Chiyo? Dante?” Nika coughed as she got up from where the balcony had collapsed from under them.
Looking around, she could see even more patrons fighting around them, revelling in the chaos of the brawl, but she couldn’t spot any of her friends in the immediate aftermath, as thick dust plumed out from the wreckage below her.
‘At least the crew of the ship we’re meant to be travelling on are probably out by now.’ The Kizun thought to herself. ‘Can’t go back, the CorvMart crew will have moved on by now, so sticking to the original plan is probably the best move, unless we can steal a vehicle one of us knows how to pilot.’
Assessing the situation before her, Nika went for her bo staff, though made sure that her shotgun was well within easy reach. Though many of the people fighting around her looked rough, they weren’t attacking her or her friends, and until that changed they could make good allies of convenience, or for a smokescreen to give their enemies the slip if they had to run.
Though slaying as many of their attackers as they could would be preferable.
‘Best way to do that is link up with the others, we’re better as a unit.’ She reasoned, hearing an almighty crash. ‘Well, that’s probably Jack.’
Dodging a thrown bottle as a Squarri ganger missed their intended target - a pissed-off looking quadrupedal furry species that Nika didn’t recognise - before dodging a swing of a bat from a Xarak that saw her as an easy target. Quickly raising her staff she parried the backswing before cracking the other end of the staff across the reptilian’s face, knocking the rough-looking thug out as he collapsed to the ground.
Yet before Nika could think to move on from the conflict, she had to dodge out of the way using her tail as a large Balnath with some kind of cleaver-like sword took a swing at her. Recognising the sigil of the Regulator group Chiyo had told them to watch out for - a stern-looking demonic rune surrounded by a neon-red triangle - Nika parried the next sword swipe from the figure.
“Let me guesth, you want to get to the Outthider?” The Balnath sneered at the Kizun with a lisp so thick that in any other situation she’d have to stop herself from laughing. “I’m stho thorry, but we can’t let you have sthilly ideas like that!”
“Are you for fucking real?” Nika asked as she dodged to the side and put some space between them before quickly switching to her shotgun, letting loose a powerful blast that the Balnath was able to raise his shield up to block.
‘Skill like that? Probably the leader or an officer of some kind.’ The Kizun noted to herself. ‘No choice. I’ve got to kill him.’
“Yeah, I know that you’re finking! You fink my teef make me sound sthupid?” The Balnath growled, with a few experimental chomps. “Well these teef like to gnaw and gnasth on Kizun flesth!”
“Come and try it!” Nika snarled as she twirled her staff around her in a well-practised flourish, eagerly accepting the challenge.
The Balnath charged forward with lightning speed as it came at Nika with a series of feints, before swiping at her with a brutal overhand chop, using both hands. The Kizun was able to deftly parry with her staff, the kinetic modules battering her opponent’s grip to the side, though she felt the strength behind the blow and knew that the Balnath was stronger.
Still, she knew she could take him.
Ever since she was little she had roughhoused with her brothers and the local boys in fights around their ranch, and had learned the hard way from an early age that her gender and short build worked against her when facing her peers, so she had trained to be the strongest she could be, and learned to be quick and tactical to make the best use of that.
She had eventually kept up with the neighbourhood boys, using holds and precise strikes until her elders found out what she was doing when she was meant to be working on the ranch to help the family scrape by, and quickly put a stop to the shenanigans.
When she moved to the city, she only got better from there.
The tip of her staff thundered against the Balnath’s shield like the striking of a gong, forcing the larger being back as Nika could tell he was already tiring. Though she wanted to finish this fight quickly and get to her friends, she knew she couldn’t allow herself to give her opponent an opening, even as she sought to exploit an opening of her own. She had to be patient.
Her staff rattled against the shield again and again, as she felt her opponent’s defence get weaker and weaker, with the powerful force of her kinetic module focusing the strength of her strikes into a single point. Eventually something would break, his shield of his arm. Once his defences were finally down, she would go in swiftly for the kill.
Her opponent’s frustration won out as his shield shattered and fell to the floor, forcing him to attack Nika with a vicious two handed swipe. She blocked the strike handily, before the Balnath grabbed her staff, locking them in a clinch.
“Giff me sthome help over ‘ere!” The Balnath called out, as Nika reached for a knife, forcing the Balnath to adjust his stance as she stabbed blindly, glancing off armoured plates before finding purchase somewhere, causing her attacker to grunt with pain as he shoved her back, holding her up against a wall.
‘Shit.’ She cursed in her mind. ‘He’s stronger than me, but all I need is a moment to take him by surprise and I can break away and kill him!’
She held strong with her arms, holding the Balnath back as his jaws snapped shut barely an inch away from her neck. He tried again, and she pushed back harder, the jaws snapping shut around nothing, but much closer this time.
He tried again, bringing his vicious maw even closer still…
‘Gotcha!’ Nika thought to herself, as she jerked her head forward in a headbutt, catching the Balnath by surprise and giving the Kizun the space she needed to bring her knees up to her chin, before kicking out as hard as she could into the face of the Balnath, knocking him back with a roar of pain, before he leapt forward with a side swipe that Nika used her tail to quickly dodge, before in the same motion she brought the tip of her staff round and smacked the Balnath as hard as she could, right in the face, the powerful strike shattering its lower jaw completely.
“My fathce!” the attacker got out, clutching what little remained of his lower jaw, before looking up in the next moment as they stared down the barrel of Nika’s shotgun.
“Plea-” They got out, before their head was obliterated in an explosion of dark, blackish blood as their body clattered uselessly to the ground.
“Fuck you.” The Kizun retorted. Using her tail to quickly clip the sword to the magnets of her armour, Nika could see more Regulators in the crowd heading towards the DJ booth. Quickly checking her weapons, she headed right into the brawl!
*****
“You don’t belong here, girlie!” the thug cackled as their cybernetic arm crackled with electric discharge.
“Replacto!” Alora snarled as she swiped her wand out, blasting her attacker with a sudden flash of light that sent him stumbling back, clutching at his eyes.
“Anyone else?” Alora asked, trying her best to channel Nika’s cool, calm demeanour, crossed with Jack’s intimidating presence as the cluster of gangers and mercenaries all looked around at each other for just a moment, before deciding that the Eladrie wasn’t actually that intimidating, as one tried to rush her with a broken chair.
‘Oh by the Mother Tree! How do those two do it?’ Alora cursed in her mind as she summoned her spiritual weapon - a spear of light - that she quickly stabbed at the fish-like Osi, gutting them in the stomach which quickly made them drop the chair, while Alora wisely moved to the side to get out of the vicious melee happening all around her. Where were the others?
‘I have to make sure they’re all right.’ the Eladrie determinedly told herself as she began casting another, more complicated spell…
“Attention all idiots!” The voice over the speakers sneered out over the ever-changing music that the DJ didn’t seem to have any control over. “We discussed this. Though the Outsider is a priority, you target the spellcasters first if you can! Must I do everything myself?”
Thrumming with sudden power, the turrets above them finally opened fire, shooting almost indiscriminately at the crowd below, cutting several of the brawling patrons down before they even knew what hit them.
Chanting and waving her hands around as quickly as she dared, Alora maintained her concentration of her spell, completing it just in time as the turrets finally tracked her as she summoned a great holy aura of light to cover herself that would give her the protection she needed, the Armour of Faith deflecting the lights of the laser turrets harmlessly aside.
A loud bark sounded out, and knowing Dante’s warning for what it was, Alora spun around to see two Regulators, who were both Vulstas fighting through the brawl to get to her. Unlike Rena, these two were males, both carrying plasma shotguns but unable to get effective shots off through the crowd. Not that something like that stopped them from trying…
“Stevarin!” she yelled out, pointing her wand at one of the two who was about to open fire on a downed ganger, as with a flash of yellow light their movements slowed, quickly freezing stiff as a board as they failed to resist the Holding spell, their eyes widening in sheer terror as the gang-mates of their would-be-victim set upon them in a fury with fists and clubs, before a spell cast from the rafters sent all of them clattering to the ground clutching at their minds.
‘One of the enemy mages providing overwatch.’ Alora noted as she quickly looked up for any sign of them, but not seeing them. ‘Under a veil of invisibility no doubt.’
Feeling the dull impact of a shotgun blast dissipate harmlessly against her magical armour, Alora spun round to the other Regulator, cursing her moment of hesitation as the Vulsta drew a long knife with which to get in close with.
Remembering her fight with Izadora all those weeks ago, Alora waved her arms around quickly to summon a bubble of light to engulf her, before quickly following it up with an explosive flash that thundered all around her like a flashbang grenade, while leaving her unharmed.
As the light dissipated, she deftly avoided the blind lunge from the temporarily blinded Regulator, before jamming her spear into his stomach, using her reach advantage to dodge the desperate swipes he sent her way.
“Garrash!” Alora spoke a quick cantrip, using her affinity with life magic to channel poison through the top of her spear. Her already-weakened attacker quickly slumped to the ground as the debilitating effects took hold, but before Alora could pull her spear back, she was hit by a spell that came from above, disrupting her magic and causing her magical spear and armour to disappear.
‘Damn! It’s that mage above me!’ Alora cursed to herself as she quickly ran underneath one of the balconies, as the turrets chased after her with gunfire. ‘You want to hide in the shadows like a coward? I’ve got something to fix that!’
Quickly making sure there weren’t any immediate threats around, Alora quickly rummaged through her pockets for a wand of white crystal she had prepared about a year ago that still had a few charges. Casting quickly, she levelled it towards the ceiling and prayed to all the gods that she was aiming it at where the enemy mage was hiding,
“Glitasha!”
A spray of shining, sparkling particles of light shot out of her wand, puffing out to cover a good half of the ceiling, and as they began to fall to the floor and latch on to the people below, Alora spotted a huddled form by one of the rafters.
‘Got you!’ She thought with satisfaction.
“Ilthax! Get out of there!” The voice over the speakers warned, presumably the name of her target, but it was too late…
“Solaris!” Alora yelled, throwing her palms out in a thrust as a great javelin of light shot out of her palms. The enemy mage had barely moved before it impaled their centre of mass, sending what must have been a fireball spell way off target which blasted apart a huge, gaping hole in the back wall.
The invisible form of the glitterdust-covered mage slowly began to materialise as the blue-furred, ape-like Regulator clutched at their chest in pain, with wide eyes of disbelief at the spear of hard light that had gone right through their torso. As their flight spell dissipated, their lifeless body fell three stories from the rafters to slam down on the ground floor below.
“Nice one Alora!” the Eladrie heard the voice call from behind her as Nika came up next to her, the Kizun bleeding from a cut on her face. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. But we need to find them now!” Alora frantically told them as she took in the sheer state of chaos around them. Many broken bodies lay amongst the carnage, and though the Eladrie knew some would likely be still alive at the end of the night, she knew that many would not.
“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Nika agreed with a grim expression.
*****
First/Previous
Looks like Jack, Nika and Alora are holding on for now! But how long can they keep it up?
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As the last orange light of day drained from the sky, the living dead in Club Vlad rose. Max the skeleton and Jessie the…not skeleton…sewed up the gaping Y-shaped incision on Dom’s chest under Merrick’s direct supervision. Dom sat there, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. He’d woken with a headache and a feeling of cold, and even now, he could feel the dull throb above his left eye. It felt like someone was tearing his brain apart with a fork. He had told Merrick, and Merrick had nodded sadly. “Is my brain rotting?”
“Most likely,” Merrick had said.
There was a certain peace in the idea of losing his cursed humanity. As Merrick had said, he would feel no pain, know no quandaries. He would live only for the night and for his master. On the other hand, watching someone like Matt sit and stare into the distance, drool coursing down his chin and nothing happening behind his dead eyes, scared Dom. He didn’t want to be a braindead idiot. He didn’t care about keeping his emotions, he just wanted to function.
Like Merrick.
There wasn’t much he could do, however. He was dead and that was the end of it.
Once Dom was patched up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, Merrick called his children before him. “I have done my best to love and protect all of you,” he began. “Jessie, you were miserable with your grandmother, were you not?”
“Yes,” Jessie said tonelessly.
“You were depressed, bipolar, and cut yourself. Now you’re happy.”
“Yes,” she replied again.
“Joe, you were a two bit nobody staring down a ten year stretch in jail.”
“Yes.” Thin yellow liquid dripped from his nose.
“But now you are free.”
“Yes.”
“You appreciate what I’ve done for you.”
“Yes.”
Merrick flashed then, slamming his fist onto the arm of his wheelchair. “Then why do you keep fucking up? The police were here earlier. They have messages between you and Jessie. I told both of you to delete those. Then I find out that you bit someone and turned them despite my orders. We have an endless supply of blood here but you still went off on your own. How many are there?”
“Just one,” Joe said.
“Are you being honest with me?”
“Yes.”
Merrick sagged back in his chair, looking somehow older. “Joe, take Matt and go to her. Bring her back here before she causes any more problems. God alone knows how many people she’s changed. Too many vampires without a father will bring heat on us, and you know what happens in that case? We get pieces of wood shoved in our chests.”
Turning to Dom, Merrick said, “I have a job for you and Jessie. We’re nearly out of embalming fluid. You haven’t had your first dose and the rest of us are starting to get ripe as well. I have a contact at a funeral home. He texted earlier that the order he placed on my behalf has come in. I want you to pick it up and to pay him.”
Dom had never been picked for anything in his whole life. No one had ever wanted him on their team and no one had ever placed their trust in him the way Merrick was now. He was honored, proud, and would do anything to not let Merrick down.
“That cop who came here might be a problem,” Merrick went on. “We may have to deal with him, but we’ll leave that for another night. In any case, I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. If the police come, I want them to see nothing out of the ordinary.”
Now that everyone had their marching orders, they dispersed. Merrick handed Dom an evelope stuffed with cash, and Dom slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. The other team - Joe and Matt - left, while the remaining vampires began tidying up.
A fleet of vehicles waited in the parking lot behind Club Vlad. Dom and Jessie took a black pedo van with no back windows. They drove in silence, the radio off. Dom did not want to hear music, nor did he wish to speak to Jessie. Their kinship was one of blood and circumstance, not one of words and emotions. He had no questions for her and wished to answer none of his own. The only thoughts he had were of the mission ahead and of the growing pain in his skull. He thought of the staring stupid Matt, of the decayed Max, and a shiver went down his spine.
What was left of his humanity recoiled at the idea of becoming like them.
The pain grew hotter, more intense. He forced it away and focused on driving.
The funeral home was on North Allen Street, next to a restaurant called Pepperjack’s. A tall, white house with dark shutters and a sign out front, it looked like a quiet, peaceful place. “Pull around back,” Jessie said.
Dom pulled the van around back and parked under a balcony, killing the headlights. They got out and went to the back door, Jessie in the lead. He assumed that she had done this before and that the seller would recognize her. She knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened. A youngish man with a shaved head appeared, wearing an apron and gloves. He saw them and tensed a little. Dom could smell, rather than sense, his fear, and his throat panged with thirst. “Come on,” the man said quickly. He stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Dom noticed that he walked behind them, wary of putting his back to them. “Do you have the money?”
“Do you have our order?” Jessie countered.
“Yes,” the man said, “I’m really risking my neck for this. They don’t just give embalming fluid away, you know. They keep track of it and if they realize I’m over ordering, someone from the state’s going to come down here and check.”
He led them into an embalming room. Three boxes sat on a table. Dom gave the man his money, and he and Jessie carried the boxes outside, loading them into the van. The whole time they were there, the man was edgy, like he was afraid they were going to attack him. Dom would be a liar if he said that the hot smell of the man’s blood didn’t excite him. Perhaps once his brain rotted away, he wouldn’t be able to control himself, but for now, he could.
A lightning bolt of pain shot through his head and he nearly dropped the last box onto the ground.
Once the man was paid, Dom and Jessie drove back to Club Vlad. In fifteen minutes, they were drinking side by side from two passed out partygoers, their reward for a job well done.
Meanwhile, across the city, Joe and Matt weren’t doing as well. They were standing outside of Heather’s apartment. Joe, slightly annoyed (anger being another emotion vampires could feel, along with fear) pounded on the door. He knew she was in there; he could smell the putrid odor of decay. “Let us in,” he said. “We won’t hurt you.”
Joe could barely remember changing her. He didn’t mean to, it just…happened. Like an unwanted pregnancy. You can bite someone as much as you want and drink as much as you want, but if you take too much at once and they die, you get the vampire equivalent of a baby. Joe liked the hunt. It was exciting. Having his meals brought to him Club Vlad didn’t arouse the same level of excitement. It was like shooting an animal tied to a tree. Or hiring a prostitute instead of wooing someone. No real satisfaction to it.
That was probably his greatest downfall. He had lured Jessie the same way, though Merrick was indeed interested in rescuing her from her grandmother. People you have saved obey just as well as people with no brains.
He felt fluid on his upper lip and sniffed. “Come on, let us in,” he said.
No response.
He looked at Matt and nodded to the door. Together, they rammed their shoulders against it. It shook in its frame. They were both dead and weak, but modern American architecture is even weaker, and the door eventually slammed open. The apartment beyond was dark, messy, and reeked of death. They searched high and low, and eventually found Heather huddled in a corner, trying to hide. She was naked save for a pair of panties, her body bloated and beginning to turn black. Her skin hung from her frame and her eyes were filled with blood and fear. It was a wonder no one had called the police yet. The smell was overpowering. “We’re here to help,” he said. “You have to come with us.”
She shook her head and trembled. Maybe she remembered that he was the one who did this to her. Maybe her memories had rotted away. Those were usually the first to go. Then your emotions, then your personality. Finally, your capacity for higher reasoning. “I’m sorry I did this to you,” he said. That was a lie. He was not remorseful. Nor was he proud, for that matter. It just happened. Like rain. “But I want to help you. We can fix you.”
No amount of coaxing or conjoling could induce her to move. Joe weighed his options. He doubted anyone would call the cops even if they heard the door coming down - people who lived in places like this rarely called the cops, which helped Joe and his cause immensely. Even so, there was the possibility. Every minute they spent here was a minute that something could go wrong, and Joe had a lot to lose.
So, too, did Merrick.
Giving up, Joe took out his cellphone and called Merrick. “She refuses to come,” he said simply.
The line was quiet for a moment, then Merrick’s voice came back. Cold. Calculating. “Then do what you must.”
That was the go ahead.
Hanging up, Joe looked around the apartment and found a wooden chair in the kitchen. He lifted it over his head and slammed it on the counter, shattering it into a million pieces. He selected the longest, sharpest, and sturdiest looking one. He went back into the room and directed Matt to hold her down. She fought, kicked, and spat, but she was weaker than even they were. They had been embalmed. She hadn’t.
Matt pinned her hands above her head and Joe straddled her. Animal terror filled her eyes and she whipped her head from side to side. Joe lifted the makeshift stake with both hands, and brought it down as hard as he could, driving it deep into her heart. Her eyes bulged from their sockets and a high, otherworldly scream ripped from her throat. She bucked, thrashed, and kicked her feet. Her resistance began to ebb away until she was twitching…until she was still.
Heather from OKCupid was dead.
Truly dead.
Joe couldn’t help wondering what it was like.
Pulling the stake out, he tossed it aside and got to his feet, Matt doing likewise. A soul petrifying scream might be cause for even the tightest of lips to start talking. “Let’s go,” he said. And together, he and Matt fled, leaving the poor, dead body of Heather behind.
***
As it turned out, one of Heather’s neighbors did call the cops. At 10;13pm, Vanessa Rodregiez arrived with two patrolmen and found the front door of Apartment 237 knocked down. Guns drawn, they entered, Vanessa at the head. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It jammed itself into her nostrils, shoved its tongue down her throat, and violated her - all without even buying her dinner first.
Vanessa hadn’t been at this as long as her buddy Bruce had, but she knew a dead, rotting body when she smelled one. They searched the premises, and sure enough, they found a vic in the bedroom, lying in the gap between the bed and the wall; it looked like the former had been moved, perhaps in a struggle. Vanessa knelt down to check the vic’s pulse, but stopped.
There was no need.
The vic - who looked like a female but could have been an overweight male - hadn’t had a pulse in a very long time.
Examining the body, Vanessa found a wound in the chest, just above the heart. Black, stinking goo leaked from it, and Vanessa gagged. She fisted her hand to her mouth, retched, and then ran for the kitchen sink. Her partner for the night, Jim Walsh, stared down at the stiff before him, and his face turned a sickly shade of green. He avoided puking because he didn’t nose fuck the wound like Vanessa had, but he wasted no time in getting out there, dry heaving in the hallway where the air was somewhat fresh.
After leaving her lunch in the sink, Vanessa radioed back to headquarters, and before long, the place was crawling with cops. The assistant medical examiner - who had taken over after Ed Harris quit the previous night - knelt over the body and studied it. A solidly built black man with a mustache, his name was Leon and he knew death just as well as his old boss, so when he said the vic had been dead nearly two weeks, Vanessa accepted it.
That begged the question: Who broke in and screamed just now? A relative? The caller clearly heard screaming and peeked out her door to see two males fleeing on foot. Maybe they found the vic and freaked out? Or maybe they were the killers returning to the scene of the crime. After all, the vic had clearly been murdered.
In fact, they found a likely murder weapon. A long sliver of wood soaked in black goo. Blood turns black after a while, but there was something different about this stuff. “What is it?” Vanessa asked Leon.
“I’m not sure,” Leon said and pulled off a pair of Latex gloves he’d donned to examine the vic, “could be blood or…”
“Or what?” Vanessa asked.
“Or something,” Leon said. “Give me a few hours.”
And a few hours it was. Just before 1am, Leon called Vanessa at her desk. “I think you should come down here,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa stood over Leon as he pulled the vic’s chest open with a pair of tweezers. “That’s the heart,” he said, “whoever stabbed her scored a direct hit, but this…this is what concerns me.”
He prodded a furry lump with the tip of his scalpel.
“What is it?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, “it looks like mold.”
That word - mold - triggered a memory in her brain. “Ed said something about mold last night. He found it in -”
“The Mason boy,” Leon finished.
“Yeah. The one who got up and ran off.”
Leon turned away from Vanessa and looked at the dead woman - for it was a woman. Vanessa got the impression that he didn’t want her to see his expression. “I’ve known Ed ten years. I know something happened last night, but a stiff getting up and walking off? I thought he was confused. Now…I don’t know. That makes two bodies in 24 hours. And get this. The chest wound? It was done post-mortem. I can’t find a cause of death anywhere. Except maybe blood loss but it’s hard to tell at this point. And speaking of blood…”
“What?” Vanessa asked quickly.
“When I opened her stomach up, a whole shit load of blood spilled out. And a lot of it was a lot fresher than she is.”
Vanessa furrowed her brow in confusion. “You mean…?”
“It’s not hers,” Leon said. “I can’t be 100 percent sure until I run tests, but I’d put money on it.”
Vanessa’s head spun with information both new and old. You know that full, heavy feeling you get when a poo is brewing in your guts? That’s kind of what Vanessa was feeling, only in her head instead of her stomach.
Leon was just as mystified by the whole thing as she was and stayed up late to run a few preliminary tests. By sunrise, he had confirmed that the blood inside of Heather’s stomach was not hers. In fact, it had come from at least three different sources. “Is it human?” Vanessa asked over the phone.
“Yes,” Leon said, sounding troubled, “it’s human.”
In the cobalt hour before sunrise, Vanessa sat at her desk and tried to piece this whole thing together. They had:

1. A corpse that (allegedly) woke up and dipped out
2. A dead girl who’d been stabbed in the heart with a piece of wood after somehow ingesting the blood of three different people.
3. Some missing kids
4. Oh, and both bodies - the girl’s and the runaway corpses’ - had the same weird fungus in their heart cavities.

All of this - even the missing kids, Vanessa felt - was related. She just didn’t know how. The only answer that half way fit was that both of those bodies were vampires. Like…what’s a vampire but a dead body that gets up and walks around at night? And how do you kill a vampire? Why, you drive a piece of wood through its heart.
The idea that vampires were real was dumb, but the more she turned it over in her mind, the more she became convinced that it was at least an option. A lot of things people thought were fantastic and made up turned out to be real, so why not vampires too?
Shortly after 8, Bruce came in. He was just sitting down when Vanessa came in and slapped her report on the desk. “Buckle up, bitch,” she said, “things just got weirder.”
He stared up at her with one of those grumpy - but cute -expressions he was so good at putting on. As he read, however, his brow knitted. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh.
“I have a theory - kind of,” Vanessa said, “but I don’t want to say it.”
“You might as well,” Bruce said. “It can’t be more kooky than reality these days.”
“Okay,” Vanessa started, “what if - and I’m just thinking out loud here - what if there are vampires in Albany?”
She expected Bruce to give her a dirty look, but he chewed it over, actually taking it seriously. “And those missing boys are victims?” he asked finally.
“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “That girl’s been dead two weeks. Maybe she bit Dominick Mason and he came back for revenge after realizing he was cursed to be a goddamn shit sucking vampire forever.”
Bruce nodded. “Yeah, but who turned her?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said, “I don’t know.”
***
Before dawn painted the eastern sky, Merrick Garvis sat in his chamber like a withered king, a mess of IVs hooked into his arms and neck. The vault was silent save for the soft noise of the machines as they filtered out the old embalming fluid and replaced it with new embalming fluid. Embalming fluid always made him spacy, like a drug. The others had gone first, and even now lay near comatose around him like addicts in an opium den.
As far as he knew, Merrick was the oldest vampire in the world, perhaps, even, the oldest vampire to ever live. Though he was not fully honest with Dom, he was not lying when he said that vampires rotted like any other dead thing. Conditions considered, you had a few weeks tops if left untreated. There may be living vampires in remote corners of Egypt or the northern most reaches of Russia, where the climate preserved dead things, but unless you made it to one of those places, you were pretty well fucked.
Merrick was not a proud man, nor was he concerned with saving face - the dead have no need for that. He was being truthful when he said that he feared death. What’s more, he feared being helpless. Deep down, vampires are people, and people don’t exactly have the greatest track record with caring for their infirm. He read once that the first sign of a civilization was a broken leg that had healed, as it showed that someone stayed with and cared for a fellow human long enough for them to get well again. In Merrick’s opinion, that was true…and thus there was no civilization. Merrick was fifty-one when he died in the year 1982. In his lifetime, he had seen The Great Depression, World War II, and a million small acts of cruelty and selfishness in between. He’d seen beggars starving in the streets, abused children shuffled out of sight and out of mind, and disdain for the poor and the weak.
The living were awful, and the living dead were no different. Once their humanity rotted away, they cared only about filling their stomachs. They were like ticks - they would drink until their bellies literally ruptured…and then keep on drinking.
That left him in a precarious position. He was old, his body was weak. He couldn’t stand unassisted and if left to fend for himself, he would decay into a pile of bones within days. He would be cursed to lay in one spot for all eternity, aware and hungry, little more than a ghost tethered to a black and still beating heart.
He refused to let that happen to him. Thus, he had created a family, a clan of vampires loyal to him and to him alone. He did this through acts of simple kindness and understanding…but also through deception. He knew, for instance, how to preserve the brain. He’d figured out how to do it early on - you pickle it. Like a fetus preserved in a jar. He sawed off the top of his own head and filled it with a special solution that kept his brain - and his intelligence - intact. It slowly drained out through the nose and ears in a thin, yellow liquid, but it worked well enough. He couldn’t save everything, however, and had lost vital things in the process, such as most of his human memories, his sense of humor, and some motor functions. He shared this secret with only Joe, and a few others before, because he needed a strong captain. He kept the others in the dark because vampires - like people - are easier to control when they don’t think for themselves.
Right about now, however, Merrick was beginning to regret sharing the formula with even Joe. Joe had brought him nothing but grief. Joe, you see, could think for himself. He could make decisions. He could go behind Merrick’s back. Joe had something called free will, and free will is a worse affliction than vampirism. Free will is messy, free will is dangerous.
Free will could very well turn Merrick into a pile of bones.
That was, of course, if they weren’t discovered first. Joe had made several mistakes lately, not least of which was the turning of Heather. Sitting there in the predawn hour, attended by Tony, his gay bartender and human familiar, Merrick decided to have Joe killed. There are only two ways to kill a vampire: The stake and the flame. The latter seemed somehow appropriate in this case. After Joe, there would be no more captains, only him, one father with absolute power. That was how it had to be. One man, one vision. Democracies didn’t work. That was especially clear today. Everyone was so divided and nothing ever got done. If the humans had one strong leader, they might go in the wrong direction, but at least they would go somewhere. Instead, they stagnated.
Merrick didn’t particularly look forward to killing Joe, but it had to be done. To protect the family. To protect him.
And Merrick would do anything…anything at all…to protect himself.
***
Vampires.
Bruce kept coming back to that single wor, hoping each time that he would chuckle at the absurdity of it.
But he never did.
Did that mean he believed it? Not necessarily, but damn it, he considered it a possibility, and that alone was enough to make him feel like a fucking clown. All the evidence he had pointed to vampires, but then again, it might point to other things as well. Like aliens.
But let’s say the whole vampire thing was real. Who, like Vanessa asked, was patient zero? Who started this whole mess?
A name came to mind.
Merrick Garvis.
He had not had time to check into Garvis the previous day, but by God, he was going to do it now. He ran his name and social through the system and everything seemed to check out. Merrick Garvis was born on June 31, 1963 in -
Wait a minute. Weren’t there only 30 days in June?
Bruce checked, and there were, indeed, only 30 days in the month of June. Hm. Bruce did a little digging and found something out. Before 1987, social security numbers weren’t issued at birth. You had to sign up, using other forms of ID. Merrick Garvis applied for his in April 1984 and the date of birth on his state issued driver’s license was June 31. Bruce spent an hour on the phone with the DMV and learned that they had never issued a license to a Merrick Garvis. He then spoke to the Social Security Administration, and after much wrangling and frustration, he managed to get a photocopy of the license Garvis used to get his social security number. It was dated 1983.
The face staring back at him was almost exactly the same face he’d seen at Club Vlad, except maybe a touch less stiff and waxy. Though not as rough looking, there was no way in hell Garvis was 20 in that picture. It had to be a fake,
Bruce thought back to the events of the previous two days. Missing bodies, staked corpses, hearts that still beat after death.
Vampires didn’t seem like such a crazy explanation.
And if anyone was a fucking vampire around here, it was Merrick Garvis.

My boyfriend and I have been dating and living together for six years! We've been good friends since middle school! (If you're into zodiacs, I'm a march Aries and he's a January Aquarius) I feel like everything was going great until I stopped working to go to cosmetology school. Going into cosmo school I knew this was going to be a slow process to start making my own money so I had a plan on at least working overnights or part-time and then going to school full-time, luckily my boyfriend offered to give me a $500 allowance every two weeks and told me just to focus on school and he'll help me financially.For context we live with my parents and siblings, he really doesn't pay bills here unless my parents asks him to help with electricity but other than that, all he has is his phone bill and car insurance,No chores or anything as well. NGL I have a bad spending habit, l was used to buying everything myself (Hair, nails and makeup I bought that all myself) so $500 went away pretty fast nothing too bad but my account would go in the negatives, maybe like -$10 at the most but I would ask him if he could just send me at least $12 so my account will not be in the negatives(and avoid overdraft fees) , this was turned into a big deal with him. He stop talking to me for about 2 1/2 weeks(this happened about three times.) His way of ignoring me was getting home from work and he would just stay in his car until 1 am(off of work at 10:30pm and was home by 10:45pm) when he would come inside he would sit in the living room in the dark and anytime l'd walk by He would turn his phone off, so I wouldn't see him . I was the one who had to ask him what was wrong and his reason for ignoring me. His reason was because I was stressing him out cause my account went into the negatives, it really pissed me off since we live together at my parents house and just felt childish of him ignoring me.After I had a "talk" with him (really it was just me asking him what's wrong and if he's OK, kind of felt like I was babying him) he got over it the next day, but the third time he ignored me I told Him that "This is very childish of you and why do you not want to talk things out? If you do this one more time l'm done" he hasn't done it since.
Another point is our sex life is gone. Again, I live with my parents and three siblings so it's a little hard to get intimate, especially in a Mexican household, someone is always home, but when we do have alone time he would rather play Fortnite, sleep all day or work on his car. I feel like I'm also to blame since I did let myself go so that could be another reason why we're not intimate. what I also mean by intimate is him not even wanting to hang out with me on his days off. He's heavily into Godzilla, anime,cars and video games, so of course, anytime he wanted to do some thing or go to an event that he's interested in and I'm not, l would still go because I wanted to be with him and have a good time but when it comes to things that I want to do he acts like it's the worst thing ever, also feels forced. So majority of the time l'm going to the movies or going to a restaurant I'm just doing it by myself because he doesn't want to go. I've also been home alone more lately in order for me to save money. I just stopped getting my hair and nails done and I just stopped going out in general. Unfortunately I did pick up a smoking habit Since all I do is watch him play Fortnite or his other interests, I decided I'll at least make it fun and get high while watching. He says that he doesn't mind me smoking, but there are times where he acts like he's better than me because he smoked when he was younger and not now as an adult. He's also been working a lot lately, He works at a warehouse so 10 hour shifts four days straight and he has three days off, but he's been working six days out of the week now and only has Saturdays off, but on his days off, he sleeps all day and then stays up all night playing video games. I try not to get mad at him because I understand he's tired, but if he has plans with his friends he is up early in the morning and is with them all day and I do get a little jealous of it. At this point, I really feel we're both using each other. He gives me an allowance and he lives in a house rent free. I still love him, but I just feel nothing back. He says he still loves me and I quote " well I still give you money and fix your car so that should mean something right?!" I don't need a pity party. I just need other peoples opinions. This is only a very small portion of my relationship that I am posting here, but from what l have written on here (can provide more stories/info if needed) I just need to know your thoughts and what would you do in my situation.

Saw the post yesterday about how the brothel madame has a “scar” (it’s not a scar, is a protruding vein) on her left hand and it matches Michelle Bonnard’a hand and therefore, Aemond has to be with her. I want to counter that theory with a few comments/a theory of my own. I know the majority of people here (within this sub) just despise the idea of canon Helaemond and therefore will shoot down any theories surrounding them, but hear me out.
-For one, Phia has the exact same protruding veins in her hands as well. They’re in the same exact spot, right under the knuckle. Frankly, I think most women have them lol. It’s not a unique feature, and the only reason you can see it in the trailer shot is bc the woman is flexing her hand just a bit to hold Aemond’s arm. I’ll post Phia pics down in the comments to prove it.
-My theory is that the scene itself happens really early in the season; either 2x01 or early 2x02, before B&C happens. We see Aemond looking emotional/sad in the shot itself, so perhaps the context of the scene is that he is still dealing/processing Luke’s death and what happened in Storm’s End. He’s never going to admit to his family (or to anyone) that Luke & Arrax’s deaths were accidents. Doing so would mean he was an irresponsible, impulsive fool who can’t control his dragon, and he absolutely doesn’t want to be perceived that way. It would also just make him look weak in general, which again, he doesn’t want. So he has all these inner emotions of guilt and remorse and he has no outlet to turn to in order to help him process everything, except Helaena. Phia said herself that Helaena can see the future and the past, so perhaps she saw what really happened at Storm’s End & how everything was an accident, so she wants to comfort her brother & be there for him. She would be the only one who would truly understand. And if it is her and he’s laying on her naked, then it’s pretty clear that they’ve been together.
-I don’t think the scene takes place after B&C. With Ewan saying Aemond goes “black” this season, and with Tom also saying that Aemond “flies off the rails”, I think he’s going to be too enraged and too heartbroken* and too focused on revenge after Jae dies to do anything else but seek out vengeance. In the shot itself, Aemond doesn’t look absolutely destroyed. Sure, he looks sad, but again, Luke’s death & his guilt over Storm’s End could explain that.
-If you actually focus on the shot itself, you’d see that whoever Aemond is with is wearing a blue dress that seems to be pretty form fitting at the shoulders/bodice. The sleeves also seem very loose as well, and looks similar to the loose sleeved dresses both Alicent & Helaena wore in S1. Judging by what we can see, it definitely seems like a dress that’s fits regally/is worn by royalty, and doesn’t really appear like something a brothel girl/madame would wear. It seems modest and tight fitting; something that you wouldn’t find in a brothel itself.
-This isn’t really part of the theory itself, but my own personal opinion. Regardless of how “in his feelings” Aemond was, I don’t think he’d ever allow himself to be that vulnerable (naked, eyepatch off) with just anyone, much less than woman that abused him. That is definitely something that fits more with Aegon than with Aemond. His missing eye is a huge insecurity for him. I don’t think he takes it off freely in front of just anyone and leaves it off.
Yes, I realize that this post with probably be brigaded with antis and book purists and helaegon stans. I’d still love to have a civil discussion about it if possible though. Let me know what you think.

Hello there!
I would need some new insights/opinion about this topic from people who also practice spirituality/meditation and are familiar with this spiritual concept. I'd like to present my own insight first and then gather different opinions, it would personally be very helpful to me.
Things that are up for discussion (and also my own insights after practicing meditation for a long time and learning from different spiritual teachings) - feel free to comment on them:

1. If existence/ego/our bodies is an illusion then why don't we just stop drinking or eating...? It's all an illusion anyway.
2. Since everything is an illusion and nothing is real including psychical existence, then anyone who is a serial killer is not responsible for what they've done or the victims family they ruined with their actions at all.
3. I've read different insights on this same topic from various spiritual masters. While some completely deny our psychical form and teach us to destroy/remove our ego and to forget ourselves as a separate self, others teach that the outer and inner are part of the same whole, and that one is just as real as the other - claiming that that's the true wholeness. And denying one or the other either leads to material or spiritual poverty.
4. Down below I'll copy some quotes from a spiritual master that's speaks about this particular dynamic.
5. My own opinion is that not every teaching made in spirituality in realization will always stay the same or can be applied in current reality/developed society or in the upcoming future. We are made to evolve in psychical and spiritual realm.
6. What is your own interpretation about completely removing your ego or denying it existence? Can we use it as a tool, is it an essential part for everyday living, our ego has its own function in our family, work, and so on.. Is it automatically wrong to have it and should we deny it existence?
7. Do you know any quotes (from any spiritual master) connected to the topic, that do not completely condemn the ego and rather describes it as a useful tool for daily functioning and living in society, while also using it as a part of our individual roles in society?

Here are the quotes from an enlightened master about the outer vs inner:
"I teach you the whole man. The inner is real – as real as the outer. And the outer is as significant as the spiritual. You have to attain to a certain balance, a balance in which both are equally complementary to each other. This has not happened up to now. But unless this happens, there is no possibility for any humanity to exist in the world."
“And a mobility…just as you come out of your home and go back inside the home, your coming out of your being and going into your being should be as simple as that.”
“Whenever you are needed in the market, you should be in the market with your totality. The market cannot destroy your soul. And anybody who has preached to the world to renounce it, was against humanity. Neither does going inward, being in a meditative silence, take away anything from the outside world. You don’t have to condemn it, and you don’t have to declare it illusory. It should have been so simple to see, that I am amazed why thousands of years have passed, and still it is not a recognized fact around the whole world.”
"The outer cannot exist without the inner. Neither can the inner exist without the outer. They are both two sides of the same coin."
“I cannot believe it – if the outside is unreal, whom are you teaching? If the outside world is unreal then what are you renouncing, where are you going? To the Himalayas? The Himalayas are as much outside as M.G. Market!”
"These two thousand years of slavery are not just an accident. The East was prepared for it. It has accepted it – what does it matter, in a dream, whether you are a master or a slave? What does it matter if in dream you are being served with delicious food or you are hungry?"
"Every day you need the outside food and every day you need the outside water, and still the outside is illusory?"
Feel free to share your own insights from your spiritual journey.
Much appreciated!

Sorry to get this out so late. Bernie has been experiencing side effects from her radiation treatments. Please keep her in your thoughts.
Hope all is well, Ladies!
Heidi, so glad everything worked out. I hope your call with Guy provided you with some new perspectives. And Lita, exciting things ahead!!!
One more quote to highlight from this section of Ikeda Sensei's lecture that we have been studying this week:

In terms of our own practice, the hardships mentioned here refer not only to persecution and harassment by the authorities, but to the ignorant criticism we may encounter as we work to spread the Mystic Law.

We've all talked about sgiwhistleblowers (WB) and I recommend that everyone read it from time to time. Let's prepare ourselves, Ladies! It's a case study of "the ignorant criticism we may encounter as we work to spread the Mystic Law."
The prime mover behind this site is a "BlancheFromage" who now operates a set of other accounts since she was permanently banned from Reddit. She doesn't believe I exist but nevertheless has spent many an hour denigrating me personally on WB, mocking my sexuality and family lifestyle, my history with mental illness, tracking me down to NSFW Reddit sites that I visit (sorry to admit, Ladies, I am no saint), and even my past work with RV campers such as Heidi. When she feels the risk of crossing boundaries and getting herself banned from Reddit again, I guess, she drops links to her WordPress site where she supplies her readers with more dirt on me (and some of you).
But do you know the one thing she hasn't engaged with? This is #85 in our "Good Morning Ladies" series of posts. Most of them have two or more sub-entries (i.e., this is #85D). So let's estimate we are at about 200 posts here. All of them are flaired with "I read it in the World Tribune." They are all rich in content from our publications. Surely, this is what SGI members read and use to understand our movement.
But Blanche dares not engage here at this level of ideas. She would rather have her followers believe that what she says are the core beliefs of the SGI are the core beliefs and not all of the guidances we all read in publications and hear at meetings. So she cowardly hides with the dust mites. Rather than engaging in the plane of ideas, it's so much easier to mock me as "u/JulieProngRider" and as u/Marilynnnn's sockpuppet (I keep telling her we are all u/Andinio's sockpuppets but she ignores that).
A couple of years ago Guy and I critiqued one--that's right, I said one--of Blanche's posts. It took us 18 posts--that's right, 18 rebuttals--to clarify and clean out her junk and trash. Did she engage and respond to any of our posts in detail? She actually did once--only to say I'm a sockpuppet so she doesn't have to respond. A very flimsy excuse, Ladies, to avoid engaging in the field of ideas.
So, Ladies, this battle of words will continue for the rest of our lives. Roll up your sleeves, put on your mascara and lipstick. Why?? It is in the Gosho and it is a proud feature of SGI history.
Thank you, Sensei, for opening the way! We got this!

I’ve had this theory in my mind for a while, and I’d love to expand on it with Scout’s Honor answering my questions. I think I might have an idea as to how the Infected psychology works. Be warned, this is going to be a very long post.
First, I want to look at Ink. He retained almost his entire personality, even after being Infected. I’m going to use him as an example through this entire theory.
We know Burt used the line “The smarter you are in life, the smarter you are in death” and it was brought up again much later on in Season 4, signifying some serious importance. Kelly also once said, referring to Ink: “What happens when they turn you, but you’re already a monster?” I don’t think this was just a throwaway guess. I think this has serious significance to the story and helps build my theory a bit.
Let’s use Datu and his perspective after he was turned. He said he felt like he was “watching his life through the backseat of his mind.” Like he was lacking control. But Ink retained control, and both of them are smart cookies. Why? Or why doesn’t Randy show nearly as much control as Ink, and why did his eyes AND Datu’s go cloudy?
You could say the eyes thing is related to how much control you retain, but with Scout’s Honor and Joe, and also Buffalo Bill, I don’t believe this is the case. Rather, there are THREE components at play that separate Ink / Datu and Randy / Joe and Buffalo Bill.
Using Burt’s first line, we can say intelligence is a factor in how much of yourself you maintain. But intelligence alone isn’t enough, because Randy didn’t have control like Ink did. Another factor is how much of a leader or a “follower” you are (wink wink). I think this plays into the clouding of the eyes. Every Infected we’ve seen without cloudy eyes is some kind of leader, Ink leading mass hordes, “Coal” leading the Scorpions, Buffalo Bill holding alpha status, and Joe leading the… other Scorpions. (I see what you did there, Kc) Now, whether or not the green eyes is a coincidence between all the leaders or green eyes form in Infected leaders, or green eyes has a relation to leadership, I’m not sure, but I do think how much of a leader you are also goes into play as to how much of yourself you retain.
Finally, using Kelly’s quote, how much of a monster you are. This is the third and most important component and it hasn’t been explored much, but I think there is something about how Infected turn that protects them from retaining their future self, should they hate what they’ve become. Basically, if someone who hated Infected turned, they would have the least control, because otherwise they would try and take themselves down. It’s like how humans have self-preservation, Infected also have a more complex self-preservation instinct.
The higher each of these components are, the more of yourself there is after you’re turned. Ink was a rare and lucky combo of all three, and so when he turned, he remained himself. Randy was high in intelligence but wasn’t a monster or a leader, so he had cloudy eyes and only had a small part of himself left inside. Datu was similar because he wasn’t a leader either and his eyes went cloudy, but he had a comparable intelligence. He also mentioned seeing from the backseat of his mind, as in being without control because he wasn’t a monster either.
Joe wasn’t a monster, but he was a leader. He most likely had a good intelligence because he was able to trap the kids in Scout’s Honor and predict their movements (if I listened to that right). So he didn’t retain his personality, because the “monster” part is what an Infected needs to be like themselves. In simplest terms, if you’re an unintelligent monster who follows rather than leads, you most likely won’t retain very much of yourself, but if you’re an intelligent leader who can’t stand hurting others, you would most likely see the same effect. You need all three to be like Ink.
This means Buffalo Bill was probably also a good person before death, as he shows leadership instincts and intelligence, but isn’t coherent like Ink.
Finally, there are two other parts of how the Infected work that are separate but I’d like to still mention them. One is physical characteristics, and the other is your deepest drive. I believe both of these are “amplified” once you turn. For physical characteristics, I think the changes an Infected goes under that makes them tougher, also makes them better in whatever they’re good at (an athletic person would become a runner, which could explain why jumpers were so rare because most people aren’t extremely good at jumping versus running. Also, the Infected are better on ground and chasing and so probably are strengthened in that field more).
The deepest drive thing comes from some of the conclusions made from Scout’s Honor and Descendants, with Fredo and the wedding couple and more. I think that whatever your deepest motivator or drive when you turn becomes your main drive as an Infected. I imagine the more you retain from life and the more control you have, the less of this exists, but it still does exist in everyone depending on how motivated of people they were. Many people who turned probably had no drive (like, living life day to day, with no goal), and that could explain why so many Infected are mindless.
I’d love to hear some thoughts on this and see if anyone agrees or disagrees. There’s a few leaps but I’ve tried to keep it as close to the story as I can.

Me (24F) and my boyfriend (28M) met 17 months ago on a dating app. At the time we were both in different countries and had set our location to a place we were both planning to visit. He asked me on a date for new years eve and even bought an event ticket for that night when we were both supposed to be there . Unfortunately a few days before my flight I got sick and never got to visit that country or see him there. I was expecting us to stop talking and I was talking/dating afew other people since I thought him and I would never meet in real life but to my surprise we started talking every single day and he was the sweetest guy I had ever met . We got to know each other pretty good to the point that he kept asking me to move to his country. After around 4 months of talking online he told me he’s getting a ticket and coming to see me for a week . And that’s when we had our first phone call , over that phone call he said he needs to tell me something because it might be a red flag for me and he just wants to be honest about it , he said he has dated a stripper before me (around 2 years before me) but they were never official and it was something casual just because he was lonely and she was pushy. To be honest I didn’t like hearing that but I was still okay with it. Fast forward to our first week together, we went on date every single day , we went to really nice restaurants and bars and he was putting in so much effort into our dates, we eventually spent the weekend together and that’s when he gave me a gift along with a letter telling me how much he loves me and then we were intimate for the first time and spent the entire weekend in his hotel room .
He went back to his country for work and came back to see me after 5 weeks and we had another amazing week together and that’s when I told him that I love him too so we got alot closer and talked about our past, about how he used to be a party boy and into drugs but he’s changed now and people we have dated and exes , and in a funny conversation the topic of body count came up and I told him mine is 3 and he said he has been with 6 people in total which was shockingly good in my opinion. He also told me that the last time he slept with someone was a year before me because he’s not into one night stands or casual sex because he is emotional and can’t just have that with anyone and that was very respectable and admirable in my opinion and made me fall in love even more . I was honest with and told him the last time I had slept with someone was a month or two into us talking but there was no emotion connection with that person, he was upset but he said he understood that we weren’t that serious back then .
He came back for the 3rd time after 2 weeks and that’s when we got an Airbnb and spent the whole week together cooking and talking like a married couple in love , on the same week we ran into a girl in our airbnb building and she was so happy to see my bf , she jumped to hug him and gave him a kiss on the cheek but my bf seemed kinda uncomfortable. After the interaction I was curious to know how does he know someone in my country so I asked him who she was and he said she is his high school classmate that lives in the same city as him now and she just got married so it must be a coincidence that she’s visiting too.
He was back to see me for another week after 2 weeks and at that point we both knew we are offical and that neither of us has even talked to anyone else for the past 4-5 months but we still didn’t put a label on it because I was so afraid of doing long distance and the fact that I was going to move to a country even further away from him in a month. On that week we went and got an STD test together and I even got an IUD so we don’t have to worry about using protection anymore. He knew that I had this unreasonable fear of contracting HIV and this was him being supportive and calming my nerves.
Afew weeks later I moved to a different country around 17000 miles away and when I was looking for a place there we decided to lease an apartment together and furnish our home together because he was planning on moving there to live with me . He came to visit me for a month and we had more amazing days together and became officially girlfriend and boyfriend .he was the sweetest most loving and understanding guy ever.
We did 3 month of long distance and I missed him so bad that I decided to leave everything behind and sell my stuff to go travel with him for 3 months and also go and visit his family and his hometown , it was hard but we made it work and we were both on cloud 9 for the first 2 weeks together. And after meeting his family things were even more serious , they all loved me and keep asking him when he’s going to propose and end the long distance and I even got invited to his brother’s wedding.
One night my trust issues got the best of me and decided to check his phone ( I know it’s bad) I didn’t see anything too bad as his chats were mostly deleted but I came across a chat with that high-school classmate I mentioned earlier and I found out that they had been on a few dates and that he had sent her the same sweet questions as he sent to me word for word. I also saw that they spent the night together and he had a hickey on his neck from her . I also saw that before meeting me he was sliding into girls dms calling them hot and being sexual and I was sooo shocked just because the image he showed me of himself was so so different. I gave him a chance to come clean in the morning but he kept on lying to my face till I showed him the chats , even then he denied ever sleeping with her . I was so hurt that so early in our relationship he could lie to my face for no reason .
I was upset so I left our villa to stay at a hotel, he kept texting and calling and begging me to give him another chance and go to dinner with him and I did, he was so apologetic he was so upset and he kept saying all he wants is to go back and never lie to me so I asked him to come clean about anything else he has lied about . I went over everything with him and asked if they were lies too? he said no . I decided to stay and give us another chance .
Just 3 days after that night I asked him if I can delete his exes number that is a stripper off his phone in front of him he said yes and when I went to delete it I saw their messages , it wasn’t from 2 years before me ! The last message was 15 days before meeting me and turns out she was actually his friend’s girlfriend and they were secretly seeing each other… I was so heartbroken I couldn’t believe he is a person like that and that he has lied to my face again! He used to always say he hates cheater and that he has been cheated on before so he would never do anything like that but in the chats they were making fun of that girl’s bf which was his friend.
He started apologising again and told me there is more, there is someone else he has slept with shortly before me and that whole not sleeping with anyone for a year and no one nights stands was lie to make me fall in love with him . I forgave him again and decided to help him not feel ashamed about his past .
4 days later I asked him to send me our STD test results from months ago to me again because I lost it and my doctor wanted see it he started looking at his emails and said he can’t find it so I offered to help him look and I found it in his trash folder, but again I wanted to give him a chance so I asked if he has deleted it? He said no ! Turns out he was tested positive for a very minor and not dangerous STD and because he felt ashamed he edited the results when he sent it to months earlier. And deleted it afew days prior. His excuse was that I’m very anxious and fearful about STDs so he didn’t want to worry me because the doctor said it doesn’t need a treatment , And again I was convinced .
A few weeks passed and we were arguing a-lot because of trust issues but we were trying to get help and work on the relationship, he even confessed that there were more small lies he has told me , like saying some of the girls he was following were his friends or friends of friends when in fact they were girls he had met on tinder before meeting me . I struggled to understand why he would lie to me about stuff like this when I had never showed to be a jealous or not understanding GF .
A few weeks later we were doing better and travelling different countries together and I thought we’re done with lies so one night I was overthinking and asked him about a blocked number I saw on his phone that first time I looked through it , I asked who’s number that was because It had the country code of the country I lived in when we first started dating. He reassured me that it’s probably a scam number and that I was overthinking but I wasn’t convinced so I put it into google and it brought up so many escort websites from that country. For a whole week I begged and cried for him to tell me the truth to tell me I’m not crazy and what I’m seeing is right but he denied it every time for a whole week and even cried because I couldn’t believe him till one morning when I promised him I won’t leave if he just tells me , he confessed that on that first week after or first or second date when he went back to his hotel room he looked at escort sites and texted them but kept swearing that he never saw one and to him it just like watching porn . Once again I was in disbelief because he used to always say people that pay for sex are evil and are using girls that might have been trafficked for sex , I was also heartbroken and disgusted that he could do that in my city , somewhere that was my home and he was supposed to be there just for me and the fact that I’d have been on the same bed we had sex for the first time and the same room he told me he loved me in only 2 days later …
He blamed it all on porn and his porn addiction, I was shocked because I never had a problem with him watching porn I had even asked him if he wants to watch it together but he always seemed not that interested. He said that he has had trust issues and the reason why he went on an escort site in the first place was to make sure I wasn’t one … Honestly I didn’t know what to do with that informations ! How could he even possibly think that but it doesn’t bother me what bothers me is thinking that he got on 5 hour flight and took me on all those nice dates thinking I might be an escort?? And when he realised I wasn’t he looked for a real one ? Like he was disappointed that I wasn’t an escort? After 5-6 months of talking to me all day and night . I couldn’t not understand and will never understand .
Because of my promise I stayed and went to therapy ever since then he keeps saying I know all of his dark side and secrets and there is nothing else he would lie to me about. He’s been super apologetic and putting up with my anxiety and hearing out my hurt and looking for ways to fix our relationship and trust.
Our trip ended and we are doing long distance again and I told him I won’t be like before because it takes time to rebuild trust he understood and said it’s fair for me to look for things or have doubts . The other night i was looking at his email to make sure there are no more escort or things like that and I saw an email from a almost a year before me , it was from a flowegift shop that he has bought me flowers from which was very meaningful to me .
I saw that he had sent the same flower to that stripper girl that he claimed he was never in a relationship with only difference is hers was way more expensive and it had a note saying she is his world and there was another flower order worth 500$ sent to the same girl and the note was he is sorry for not keeping his promises and that he is in love with her more than he could have ever imagined.word for word of how he has apologised to me.
He has been telling me for over a year now that he never told that girl he loved her without me ever asking him . So I asked him if he has ever bought her flowers? But I also sent him a text saying he doesn’t owe me anything from his past and he shouldn’t worry about hurting my feelings and just tell me truth because I love him . He said no . Afew hours later he said he remembered that it was one time and it was from the same shop but what he got me was better and once again without me even asking he said no but I never loved her and never told her I lover her . I gave him the benefit of the doubt and asked if there is a chance he doesn’t remember ? Maybe because it was over text ? He said no there is no way he wouldn’t remember saying something like that .
I sent him the email and all he had to say was that he wasn’t lying he just didn’t remember… And he kept saying but that’s all , I never got her anything else (like that’s the point) but I also saw another email in his trash folder and it was another gift order to the same girl and he deleted that email the same day so there is no way he wouldn’t remember those gifts …
I’m so done and over the lies but I’m starting to blame myself for asking things for caring about the past , my mind keep telling me at least he didn’t cheat on you . But then I remember he lied to me about things I never even asked for cared about. I remember that he might have been interested in me because he thought I might be an escort not because of who I am .
He has been the kindest and nicest person to me and has done everything to make sure I’m okay during our relationship . Am I doing something wrong? What to do ? I’m so confused

Many thanks to u/LieutenantRayne for helping my learn about the DLC through their guides.
What you'll get from this guide: Great economy, great living standards, victory in Verdosam, a new alliance with Derdia and Morella, a new wife (the inferior romance choice but alas), a new heir, reunification of the peninsula without war (no torturing Axel, sad!), the grace of god and ultimate political power.
Achievements you'll get: Prologue, chapter stuff, Great Unification, Intermekopum alliance, Wruceh's Second Coming, True Master of Crisis (unsure about that one), Glovurius axa Rizia axa Pales, The Prince, Fall from GRACE, Domineering, Mine All Mine, Ready To Love Again, Case Closed, My Rule Continues, Game Of Spoons or Two Birds for Beatrice, So It Is and Make Yourself Great Again.
Notes: Be polite even to your enemies and say Halaita alot.
PROLOGUE - Visit family in Zille, close friebds with Pabel, university (+1B), crackdown on traitors (+1A), rebuild (+1B), truly love your wife, family got in the way of work, vacation with wife and daughter, solace in faith, meet duke and agree with him, lie to dad, don't tell anything to your father, gold and tax focus (+2B and +1B per turn). Absolutism, Diversify (+1B), Third Way and no military spending (+1B).
TURN 1: A(8/+3) B(11/+6) E(3/+1).
Decrees=> Sovereign Transition and Clemency (-1A), Raise base income tax (-2A, +1B per turn), Geological Survey (-2A, -2B), Zpana Dam (-2A, -5B, 4T to complete, +3E per turn on completion) and Expand Esqiris Gas Field (-1A, -3B, 3T to complete, +2E per turn on completion).
Events=> No speech at coronation, allow vina in the council, small parade at Port Drazon, host concert (-1B), no sanctuaries restoration :( and football auto-skips due to lack of budget.
TURN 2: A(3/+3) B(7/+7) E(4/+1).
Decrees=> Housing for the poor (-1A, -1B) and Build Qalus Gold Mine (-1A ,-3B).
Events=> Oil dries up, trade talks with Sordland (invite Elena): Accept alcohol deal "is there a way to rephrase this?" accept resort deal "less gaudy", investigate dad's death thanks to Pabel (leave him out of the suspects), donate to Arufelde (-1B, makes dealing with Morella easier), build statues of all the family (-1B, +1A), in the hunt go with Hugo but tell him Vina and Rico are cousins after that go back with your daughter, ignore commie propaganda (we need to get in Hegel's good side) and be polite with Smolak regime.
TURN 3: A(5/+3) B(8/+7) E(4/+0).
Decrees=> Monqiz Port and Naval Expansion (-1A, -3B, 2T to complete, -1E per turn on completion) and Sallabes Consumer Park (-2A, -2B, 2T to complete, -1E per turn on completion).
Events=> Fund Golden Guard and focus on Su Omina (-3B), denounce Su Omina, accept Rumburg MAXIMUM energy deal (-3E, +2B and -2E per turn), deny police transfer to idiot Rico, tell manus to fuck off and don't let him dance with Vina, allow safe passage for Goldoncondists, rizz Lucita up (grab ger hand, don't le go etc) and refuse deal with Rusty but have lunch with him.
TURN 4: A(6/+4) B(9/+9) E(0/+0).
Decrees=> Build Tank Factory (-3A, -4B/ ONLY AFTER WINE TRADE SOARS!!!)
Events=> Disperse protests by force (+1A), Pales Stuff: Say u wanna talk to Axel and DON'T initiate blockade - Say to him to keep the field in exchange for something, "don't let hostility colour the negotiations", "predecessors were out of line", "caught between superpowers", "how big of a parachute?" - Pay what he asks and tell him about your daughter (-5B, -3B per turn and +3E per turn later), send 500 equipment abd 50 support vehicles to Verdosam, tell Alvarez to fuck off - at the AN meeting: don't interrupt Smolak, applaud him politely, don't applaud Lespia, don't confront Hegel, Speech: "Honor to adress assembly", focus on unity, Smolak is being understandable and you'll count with his transparency, "Morella looking is east is understandable", offer help to Morella, say a compromise with religious travellers is possible, "regarding Pales", "golden age" and "end cycle of violence" - attend H.o.D and give rights to all workers (-2B, -1B per turn, industrial power weakened), NO Wehlen cooperation (We won't get Smolak in the alliance but he's an asshole anyways), wine trade soars (+2B) - Wine Event Speech: "fruits of our lands", "yes, even Sords", "doubts about stability", "with your help", "proud son of Valenqiris", "richly rewarded", "rise a glass to a reunited Rizia" and "you're here to drink wine" - Invite Lucita to open the bottle, rizz her up, say good night to staff, play drinking game (No Pablo), get something to wrong to gwt drunk, say you're lonely. If things goes right Lucita will knock on your door and have sex with you,. Sordland Investment auto-skips (no money).
TURN 5: A(8/+4) B(5/+5) E(0/+1)
Decrees=> Build Military Eq. Factory (-1A, -2B), Build Support Vehicles Factory (-2A, -3B), Sell 1st Batch of Military Eq. (+2B/ immediatly AFTER football auto-skips AKA after Hegel's Call) and enforce Wruceh education (-3A).
Events=> Agreement with Wehlen: *Import Oil and Medicine, *Export Wine and Small Arms, *Aid against BFF, *Ban Bluds and *Grant Wehzeks equal rights to work. Fund no organization in Zille, continue investigating Du Omina (-1A) and ask about Iza and give control to Lucita, tell Titus to look into Hugo, Football auto-skips :), complain to Hegel about the late hour so you can cut Lespia out for ships, be polite to Alma and DON'T eat the cookies (they're horrible), tell her about spliting Lespia's shares 50-50 between you and Morella, at plane - Speak with Derdia, Energy Agreement and Pollution reparations (-1B/ Make sure to do this in the plane to get the toy bird), Vina diplomatic envoy, send sordish tourists back home, Gas Field meeting - Tell Vina to be diplomatic envoy, "Absolutely not!", "single", "handsome" - Scrap Boat (-1A).
TURN 6: A(4/+3) B(8/+7) E(4/+4).
Decrees=> Enact investment in Public Transport (-2A, -3B, 1E/ FIRST THING TO DO AT THE START OF THE TURN! If u don't u get transport crisis), Excavation of Topes (-2A, -2B, 2T to complete) and Medium Energy Sale (-3E, +2B/ AFTER council meeting to avoid energy crisis - always one step ahead of Torpor).
Events=> Massive Global Media Campaign (-3B/ SUPER IMPORTANT!), send 1 infantry div. to confederacy, DON'T start war, Axel talk - Shake hand, don't interrupt, "peace", "peaceful resolution", let soldiers leave immediatly, "i do not underestimate the gravity", "what would we gain?", "I'm starting to suspect that", "someone else", "Lespia", "this is precisely the point", "why wouldn't he?" and "anything for peace"(-1B), sign paper and talk about cooperation and friendship (+6E, +6E per turn).
TURN 7: A(3/+3) B(8/+8) E(13/+7)
Decrees=> Abolish Blasphemy Law(-3A/ SUPER IMPORTANT).
Events=> Invite Sal to H.o.D, don't fund Zille, Grand Wiseman Talks - Let Titus fight don't talk to him or interrupt him, Trade deal (-2E, +2E per turn) and mediation with Morella - Send 1 ship and 1 sub to confederacy, Hugo will tell Toras are happy, order Manus arrest, rid Rico of his title put Iza under your control, tell Hugo you're but that's it, improve enviroment (-3B), Azaros and Lucita will be happy, go to private lounge with her.
TURN 8: A(6/+7) B(16/+9) E(13/0).
Decrees=> Increase Health and Education Funds (-2A, -3B), Tenant Protection Laws (-2A, -1B), Remove Provincial Police and Levy Obligation (-8A, -2B/ SUPER IMPORTANT/ Do it AFTER meditation investment/ U get enough authority for it through the dissolution of the H.o.D) and Small Energy Sale (-1E, +1B/ Necessary to remove Provincial Levy Obligation).
Events=> Host banquets to celebrate victory (+2A,-2B,+2B per turn), don't reveal Lespia evil doings to the world, be polite to drunk Alvarez and reveal the your findings at the end of the conversation so he can offer a deal to arrest Rusty - take it, arrest Rusty, nationalize his assets by buying shares (-2B), invest in renewable energy (-3B), welcome brave sailors back home, invest 1A in Derdia-Morella talks (SUPER IMPORTANT), close H.o.D (+A), -3B for Intermekopum, (SUPER IMPORTANT) , Smolak will ask the AN for a referendum, AN Stuff - Vote Nay to island claim, interrupt smolak bullshit speech, in your own speech talk about the importance of treaties, how bad people are treated by Wehlen, how Wehlen doesn't respect democracy and that Weheln wants to stela land, if done correctly AN will vote against referendum and you'll get Zille back (hooray!) - Talk to Vina about marriage with Axel respect her but tell this is the best for Rizia - she'll say yes :) - don't give ring her so u can give to Lucita, marry Lucita through Sal, be polite at the weeding and reveal your own with Lucita (Taddeus Azaro will have an orgasm).
TURN 9: A(9/+9) B(11/+10) E(12/-1)
Decrees=> lower conscription to 18 (-2A, -2B, +1000 men) and Launch Anti-Narcotis Campaign (-1A, -1B/ reduces tourism and doesn't last. Now is the best time).
Events=> Derdia-Morella Talks: offer -250 men, vote yes to new MITZ, offer -5E for Intermekopum (alliance formed +10A), Accept aid from Valgsland (+2B), leave Grace (middle finger if Sordland Save or correct spoon shit), Zille is returned! Give it to yourself (Great Living Standards + Cucked Sazons = No unrest), Wruceh Guardians (-1B) and Pales Unification Plans (-2B).
TURN 10: A(15/+19) B(17/+9) E(8/+1).
Decrees=> Expanded Border Guards (-2A, -1B/ Now because it reduces tourism and it's one less red modifier).
Events=> In the meeting with Titus say Luciat is innocent, declare that Hugo is guilty but just keep an eye on him (he's loyal and much better than his smooth-brained son), execute Manus and Rusty for all to see, drink with Axel and reassure that palensians will be respected, declare Theocracy, make your son the heir to get achievement and Azaros on thw jubilee, finally, enjoy becoming Rizia's Lisan Al Gaib and lead your people to paradise.
Hope you enjoyed the guide! I might make one for a reformist + Pabel romance run. No promises though.