Jacob s room coupon sodes

I have to share this. It’s not just a story; it’s a warning. If you value your sanity, stop reading now.
I spent my junior year of college studying art history in Rome. It was everything I’d hoped for: the architecture, the paintings, the endless history. But what happened during my last week there still haunts me. The Vatican City tour was supposed to be the highlight of my trip, but it became a nightmare I can’t escape.
Our guide, an older man named Marco, led us through the usual tourist spots, but he seemed distracted. His eyes kept darting to a small, unmarked door at the end of a corridor in the Vatican Museums. After the tour, I lingered, watching as Marco slipped away from the group and towards the door. Curiosity got the better of me. I followed.
I approached the door, and to my surprise, it was ajar. I peeked inside and saw a dimly lit staircase leading down. I hesitated, but then I heard voices – chanting, whispering. I descended, my heart pounding. The air grew colder with each step, the walls narrowing, until I emerged into a cavernous underground chamber.
At first, I thought it was some kind of ancient chapel, but the sight before me was far from holy. There were robed figures gathered around a long, stone table, chanting in Latin. On the table lay a human body. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I tried to convince myself it was some kind of bizarre reenactment or performance art, but the smell of decay and the horror etched on the lifeless face told me otherwise.
I hid behind a pillar, my heart racing, praying they wouldn’t see me. The chanting grew louder, more frenzied, and then they began…eating. The realization hit me like a freight train. These were no actors. This was a ritual, a feast – cannibalism. I could barely keep from vomiting as I watched them consume the flesh with a grotesque reverence.
They started with the organs, tearing into the liver and heart with their bare hands, the sound of ripping flesh and the sight of blood running down their chins making me dizzy with horror. They passed around pieces of flesh, some searing it over candles, others eating it raw. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the stench of death.
One of the robed figures held up a severed arm, chanting in a low, guttural voice before biting into it, tendons snapping under the pressure of his jaws. The others followed suit, tearing at the body with a hunger that was both primal and ritualistic. Their eyes rolled back in ecstasy, mouths stained red, as if they were partaking in some unholy communion.
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I turned, expecting the worst, but it was Marco. His face was pale, eyes wide with fear. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he whispered. “They’ll come for you now.”
He dragged me back up the stairs, but it was too late. The chanting had stopped. I could hear footsteps, quick and purposeful, coming up from behind. We ran through the labyrinthine corridors of the Vatican, the ancient stone walls seeming to close in on us. I could hear them – the robed figures, their whispers echoing in the halls.
We burst out into the daylight, but the Vatican guards were waiting. Marco was seized and I was dragged away, screaming, trying to explain what I’d seen. They locked me in a small, windowless room, and for hours I sat there in darkness, waiting for whatever fate awaited me.
Eventually, a cardinal entered. He was calm, composed, and utterly terrifying in his placidity. He sat across from me, his piercing eyes examining my soul. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he began to speak.
“What you witnessed,” he said, his voice smooth and unsettling, “is a sacred rite, a tradition older than Christianity itself. Long before the establishment of the Church, our ancestors discovered a way to commune with the divine, to gain knowledge and power beyond human comprehension.”
He leaned in closer, his breath cold against my face. “This rite, this consumption of the flesh, is a way to absorb the essence, the life force, of the departed. It grants us visions, strength, and longevity. It binds us to the ancient ones, those who walked the earth when it was young and untamed.”
I could feel the bile rising in my throat, but I couldn’t look away. “But why?” I stammered. “Why would you do something so… monstrous?”
His smile was chilling. “Have you ever wondered why the Eucharist, the Communion, is such a central sacrament in Christianity? When Jesus said, ‘This is my body… this is my blood,’ it was not merely symbolic. It was a continuation of an older, more powerful tradition. By consuming the flesh and blood, we become one with the divine.”
The cardinal stood, his robes rustling like whispers of the damned. “But the bread and wine are just a shadow of the true rite. Here, in the depths of the Vatican, we keep the original covenant. The flesh we consume is sanctified, chosen. It is our way of maintaining the connection to the divine, of ensuring the Church’s power endures.”
I was horrified, but he continued, his voice a soothing monotone that belied the horrors he described. “The world is filled with darkness, with forces that seek to corrupt and destroy. We are the guardians, the keepers of balance. To fight such evil, we must embrace the forbidden, the unthinkable. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “You have seen too much. But fear not, for your silence will be assured. You will return to your life, but you will never speak of this. Not to anyone. For if you do, the consequences will be dire.”
I was released the next day, warned never to speak of what I’d seen. Marco was gone. I returned to the States, trying to forget, but the nightmares won’t let me. Every night, I see their faces, hear their chanting. I feel their hunger.
I don’t expect you to believe me. I’m sharing this because someone needs to know. If you ever visit the Vatican, stay with the group. Don’t stray. And if you see a small, unmarked door, turn around and run. Some secrets are worth dying for.

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.

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.

I recently tried offing myself because of school stress and my girlfriend breaking up with me and was stopped by my older brother and best friend of 6-7 years my cash app is $jonyboy556 for anyone who wants to show their support
Hello I’m (anonymous) I’m 15yo M and on may 14th 2024 i attempted suicide and was stopped by my older brother (anonymous) and my best friend (anonymous), I wanted to do it because of all the pent up stress and my girlfriend had just left me that morning. I concluded in my own mind that it would be better for everyone if I was dead, sure they would miss me for a while but everyone else would go on living and contributing to society. I felt sure that I contributed little to nothing to society. I decided that if I could write 15 reasons I would do it if I couldn’t I wouldn’t and I easily came up with 15 good reasons. After I had constructed my note of 15 reasons, and thanks to my few friends who had always been there and family members who were a key part in my life, I went to my room grabbed the 22 cal. Rifle and the magazine that went to it which had about 4 or 5 rounds of ammunition contained within it I walked as far into the woods as I could while still staying invisible to the road. As I sat between two trees I sat the note at my feet hugging the gun like a family member unseen in years. I contemplated life for about 3 minutes when I called my best friend and said my goodbyes without saying them. I then called the girl I broke up with and had roughly a 1-2 min conversation with her and she told me “well just call me if you feel like doing anything” in which I responded “I just did” I don’t know if she herd me, then told her goodbye and hung up. As I held the gun in my mouth about to pull the trigger my phone was being called by my best friend and I answered, he asked me why I was in the woods on life 360 which is a family location sharing app. I responded “why wouldn’t I be” he responded with silence “…” I then said “I’m sorry (anonymous) I just can’t anymore” not knowing he had already contacted my mom which was spamming my phone the whole time. Telling her a short but obvious message “please stop him” and without my knowledge my brother had been walking throughout the yard looking for me apparently he noticed almost immediately that I was gone. After some point in talking to Markez I started crying, not long after my brother saw me sitting between the two trees and Yelled my name And ran to me as fast as he could, he then took the gun from me and hugged me and said “I know it’s hard I’ve been here before don’t do it i doesn’t have to come to that” I responded with the only thing I could sobbing and saying “I’m sorry” over and over again while clutching him tightly, he took the gun and threw it to the side and continued hugging me after about a minute he got up grabbing the gun and said “I’ve already lost to of my really good friends to suicide this year, please don’t make me lose you too” I responded again with “I’m sorry” while crying still. he told me that he wouldn’t read the note and to just ball it up and told me to take as much time as I needed outside. After he was done talking he walked with the gun to the house. After about 10 minutes outside my parents arrived home and my mom and dad comforted me and told me I should never do that. It’s been 2 days since then and it’s still the only thing I think about, I feel bad for my brother I can only wonder what went through his mind. I wonder what if my best friend hadn’t stalled me how my brother would have found me and how that would have affected him and his life. Would he have blamed himself? would he have used that same gun to suffer the same fate? If he wouldn’t have how would it change his life? And how would my parents react? I can only thank god for everyone at the same time trying to stop me, I had prayed for forgiveness before I was about to do it and u apologized to him. My lord had to have heard my cries and saved me without me even having to ask. I thank my brother, and my best friend as-well my brother most because he noticed almost immediately and took action, stopping what was almost inevitable.

hey, does anyone know what’s the probability of a freshman getting a room with an attached bathroom? I’ve heard that due to the price the demand might not be so high but I’ve heard otherwise since students have to earn points to get the room.

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.

I know this subject is discussed constantly but every building or home is different so here goes.
I’m on the lower middle coast , 50 miles inland . I bought a 14x36 portable building. The porch is in the side to preserve space needed for the project . I framed up for a bathroom which is 7’ x4 1/2 ft and a 8’x10’ storage room . It has 2 sets of 3/0 x 4/0 mulled windows on the east side . The building is spray foam insulated ceiling, walls and under the floor. The ceiling is halted from 94” on the sides to 9’ in the center. I finished taping all the drywall joints and it started hot and very humid so purchased a temporary 8000btu window unit . I need to float the drywall , texture then prime and paint . The 8000btu window unit has actually performs very well so far but the top temp has been only high 80’s to low 90’s . We had originally planned to purchase a 12000btw moni split unit but I keep the building at 69 degrees around the clock and the unit is doing a great Job handling the current temperature. As soon as I finish painting, I will order my mini split unit, but I’m starting to second-guess that maybe 12,000 BTU may be too much. The building is 14‘ x 36‘. The porch is 8‘ x 4‘. The storage room is 10‘ x 8‘ and I’ll install a louver door to the contents of the storage room to stay at the same temperature as the main building. Is 8000 fine for the current temperatures at this time or will 12,000 BTU be too large? Thanks for all your replies ahead of time

My first soulslike was Bloodbourne. It was the second game I ever purchased on my PS4. I remember making it out of the first room and into the courtyard and instinctually looking around for secrets/drops/items, etc. I had no idea what a “soulslike” was. I remember an enemy that walked back and forth down an alleyway between two building. Decided to fight him so I could nab the “sweet loot” that was surely hidden here. He beat my ass non-stop. I progressively got slightly better, and maybe after an hour or so, I finally beat him. He dropped NOTHING. There was NOTHING in the alley and it lead nowhere! This game felt like a total waste of time with absolutely no reward. Turned off the game and never turned it back on again.
Fast forward to 2022. Elden Ring releases and everyone is singing its praises. I hear it’s a “soulslike”, so I choose not to buy it, but I watched a ton of gameplay and the game looked intriguing as hell.
A few weeks ago, I watched a video by moistcritikal about Another Crab’s Treasure. I was playing Stellar Blade at the time (phenomenal game, btw) and decided to download ACT after a platinumed Stellar.
I LOVED ACT. Like a ton. It was fantastic. And it left me with both a whole to fill and an itch to scratch. Didn’t know if I could do a Dark Souls game after hearing how difficult they were, and I was intimidated by the bosses of Elden Ring. Before knowing ANYTHING about the game, I decided to pick up a copy of “Lies of P”.
Hardest. Game. I’ve. Ever. Played. But I love it. And I’m enjoying it. I’m about 10 hours in on Isabelle Rose street. I hear the game only gets harder, and I’m honestly intimidated.
As someone who has never played a soulslike (besides ACT), how scared should I be? Do y’all have any hope in me beating the game?
Thank you!

An introvert is someone who can socialize, they just feel tired from too much socializing. Not having any conversation for a week and being locked in your room all the time is not an introvert, it’s an unhealthy person.
Unluckily, I’m such a person and don’t know how to deal with it.

I’ve been dating my girlfriend who is also my coworker for almost a year now and as of late management is getting so frustrating and telling us we cannot take our breaks the same time or lunches at the same time. They go as far as even scheduling us at different times due to “conflicting with each other” however we work in different departments and do not interact with each other unless it’s work related like her needing me to do a carry out, find something for her or grab something from top stock down for her. On our breaks we talk in the break room or when it’s really packed or we just need space from work we go to my car or walk to the nearest offee shop. They’re really pushing it as far as saying we talk to each other too much because we kept our relationship hidden for a really long time and ever since they found out recently they just have been really stubborn and resentful towards us. Can they legally try to not have us take breaks and lunches together? We always did that and we are always in time coming back so I don’t know why they have a problem with it.

HRT has been saving my sanity after I started having the intense hot flashes from HELL (like, “am I becoming a fire demon? Will I spontaneously turn into a column of fire stretching a mile up?” level hot flashes). For the first time in like 6ish weeks of increasing levels of HRT dosage, I forgot my pills both last night (progesterone) and this morning (Estradiol). Will I notice much? Should I drive home from work? I have a 1/2 hour commute each way and no lunch break so it’s not quick or easy to head home for something like this (I’d have to use PTO and reschedule meetings etc). I normally wouldn’t stress about missing one day of meds but this has been so awful and I am worried if I will start turning into fire again later today.
Before anyone says anything: yes I’ve heard the criticisms of pill based HRT; I discussed them with my doctor who I like and trust and she made the point that a) my risk profile is very good (no cancer etc in the family) and b) my symptoms have been very severe (way more than just hot flashes) and in her opinion pills will be the most effective relief for me right now and we can always tweak later. I was sliding into severe clinical depression and worried about losing my job before HRT (and even now I can seem some small room for improvement), so I’m just letting the pill issue lie for now until things are more stable (I literally have spent the last two weekends just catching up on sleep after severe sleep deprivation).
Sorry this seems crazy to ask but Peri has been making me crazy.

Long time commenter here but I finally had a post worthy encounter! Nothing extreme but still peak boomerisms.
So I regularly go to my local library. I’m broke af and don’t currently have wifi so if I want to watch movies or anything, it’s either youtube or physical DVDs. So I go to the library all the time for movies and tv shows.
Anyways, last night I was at the library and was perusing the movies. It’s about an hour or so until close so there’s maybe two other people besides me in there. There’s a conference/meeting room off to the side and I can see that there’s a bunch of people seated in there, obviously for some type of meeting. Then Big Boomer Man comes out, his phone ringing loudly.
BBM answers his phone, on full volume speaker of course, and proceeds to loudly have a conversation with who I can only assume was his wife. I didn’t hear the entire thing because I was wearing my headphones but I did catch a few bits.
There was something about how his son is “full of shit” because apparently “no one has headaches that often” and how he “had better get to” some obligation he had “or else”. All I could think was I would absolutely have constant headaches if I had to deal with BBM as a father. I have chronic migraines as it is and I could feel one brewing just from listening to this guy.
Then BBM proceeds to spend like 3 minutes straight trying to get off the phone. Again, couldn’t pick up everything the woman was saying but he kept interrupting her trying to get her to stop talking. Finally he straight up yells “I HAVE TO GO! I’M IN A MEETING!” hangs up the phone, says “Jesus Christ!” to himself, and waddles back to the meeting room.
I looked over at the help desk and gave the librarian a look of “wtf was that all about?!” which she promptly returned with a smile.
So I’m a matter of a couple minutes we had:

• phone ringer on full blast.
• using his phone speaker at full volume.
• literally yelling in a library.
• getting angry at his wife.
• not believing medical conditions of someone younger than him.
• the weird threatening “or else” thing they do

Add on top of that his “boomer uniform” (a promotional/free tshirt stretched over his beer guy and tucked into his pants, suspenders, faded and stained jeans, crusty New Balance sneakers, and what looked like a veteran hat of some sort) and it was like playing Boomer Bingo.
Anyways, I usually go to the library during the day so the only people I really encounter are moms with their toddlers. I guess that’s what I get for getting stir crazy and needing to get out of my house at 6pm.

The people involved (names are changed):
Jake – me
Tom – my flatmate
Kath – Tom’s girlfriend
Emily – Kath’s flatmate
TLDR (but context is very important for how the situation develops):
· Me and Emily get with each other at a party.
· It turns out Kath had forbidden Emily from getting with me. Since Emily went and did it anyway, Kath falls out with her.
· Kath ends her friendship with Emily. Me and Emily continue seeing each other.
· When I plan to go to see Emily at their apartment, Tom tells me that Kath is in a really dark place mentally, and the thought of me and Emily being there together while Kath’s there is triggering her anxiety, so he asks me not to go over.
· Me and Emily follow these instructions for months, all whilst Tom and Kath continue coming and going to either of our apartments as they please.
· Emily eventually gets in touch with Kath to try and understand exactly why me coming over is an issue, since Kath has no problem coming to my place. Kath has a meltdown due to this and it makes her suicidal.
· Tom falls out with me because I knew about the messages that caused his girlfriend to feel suicidal.
(Skip to 'Late April' if you want to go straight to the crux of this post, but I do think it's quite an entertaining read).
Background Context
Me and Tom (both mid-twenties) have lived together in our apartment since I moved to the city last year. I’ve known him for several years and would put him in my inner circle of closest friends, so living with him was all just good chill vibes as expected - or at least it was for the first six months.
I met Tom’s girlfriend of several months, Kath, for the first time pretty soon after moving in. Although she was kind of shy, I thought she seemed nice enough. I noticed that Kath would seem to lean on Tom a fair amount when it came to support for her mental health (she had been diagnosed with anxiety), which of course is normal as her boyfriend. On one occasion, she had a particularly bad anxious episode during a group hangout, with Tom consoling her about it afterwards. Following this, Tom seemed exhausted, saying to me “I’m not a professional, I’m not equipped to deal with all this mental health stuff. She needs help from someone who can adequately help her deal with these thoughts. When she blows things out of proportion and she stresses out to me about her anxiety, it just ends up making my own anxiety worse”. He also said that he had even offered to pay for therapy for Kath, but she didn’t want to accept it.
I just felt bad for Tom, especially since I had some understanding of what he was going through. I had previously had a girlfriend who had anxiety/depression/BPD and put all her mental health issues on me. That girlfriend was also very manipulative and would mention suicidal thoughts any time she started feeling like she was losing control over me (just to be clear, there was no indication that Kath was acting in a manipulative way towards Tom at that point). In my experience, when you end up in a situation where you’re essentially acting as someone’s full-time personal mental health counsellor, it hardly ever ends well.
At some point in January, I met Kath’s “bestie” flatmate, Emily. I remember thinking she was cute, seemed nice and easy to talk to. We all hung out as a group a few times that month and I thought there may have been a little bit of a vibe between me and Emily.
So as you do, I slid into Emily’s DMs and basically let her know I was interested. I messaged her a week or two before our party that her and Kath were coming to, but her response was lukewarm so I just thought she probably wasn’t interested.
For context, I had recently broken up with my girlfriend in January, who had just got back from travelling for the last 6 months. Things in that relationship weren’t great before she even went travelling, and during the months she was away I had come to terms with the fact that it was best to end it. I waited until she was back to say it in person, as I didn’t want to drop that on her while she was travelling and ruin that once in a lifetime experience. However, deep down I knew I had wanted talk to other girls and explore new connections for the last few months, but obviously I didn’t want talk to anyone until it was cleanly over. Me messaging Emily was only a few days after breaking up with her, which I guess isn’t great, but in my head I had been ready to move on for a while, I saw no point in putting an arbitrary time limit on myself. I made sure to explain this context when I messaged Emily so that she was aware of my recent circumstances.
The Party (End of January)
So me and Emily end up getting with each other at the party. Initially, when I brought up me messaging her, she said “I think you’re cute, but I think it’s best we just be friends for the next couple months, since you just recently got out of a relationship, and we can see what happens afterwards”. But as the night went on, I guess Emily changed her mind, because as we kept talking it got increasingly flirty and we ended up getting together. Perfect end to the night, right? Not exactly.
At one point when Emily goes to the bathroom, she comes back into my bedroom saying “Kath is furious at me”. I ask why, and she says that Kath had basically forbidden her from getting with me.
Back when I first messaged Emily, she had of course shown Kath the messages straight away. It turns out Kath for some reason had a really intense reaction to this and was like “I can’t believe he has the audacity to hit on my best friend right after breaking up with his girlfriend! It’s so disrespectful using you as a rebound, it’s disrespectful to his ex and it’s disrespectful to me for hitting on my best friend like this! He was the only one of Tom’s friends that I actually liked but he’s ruined that too now!”.
Apparently, Kath had been used as a rebound before and this was triggering for her, so she didn’t want her best friend to be used as a rebound. She said “you can’t get with him, Emily, that’s my boundary.” Emily was a bit taken aback by the intensity of this reaction and was just a bit like “umm okay…?”. She tried a few times before the party to understand a bit more about why Kath had such a problem with it but didn’t get much further explanation than that.
Now, I agree that Emily was in the wrong for saying to Kath that she wouldn’t get with me and then went and did it anyway, and Emily also acknowledges this. Emily should have said from the start she wasn’t okay with this weird “boundary” Kath had set. It was a bit cowardly. Although given how intensely Kath overreacts to things, I can understand why Emily initially just agreed to whatever she was saying to calm her down. I can also understand how when you’re at a party having fun, drinking and realise that you do actually have a good vibe with the person, in the moment you might change your mind and be like “actually fuck that, who the fuck is she to tell me who I can and can’t get with?”.
Kath saw this as Emily having no respect for their friendship, by choosing some guy she’d just met over her. From Emily’s perspective she was choosing herself, choosing not to follow these nonsensical rules that had been imposed on her, and she was just tired of Kath overreacting to everything and trying to control her.
In my opinion, being this controlling for no good reason is pretty disrespectful in itself. Given that Kath’s reason for telling Emily not to get with me was because she didn’t want her to be used as a rebound…well that’s Emily’s risk to take, isn’t it? I can see how from Emily’s perspective, she knew Kath might not be happy about it, but it’s also not some deep betrayal, since based on the reason Kath gave, the consequence would only be on Emily herself. Emily had the exact same knowledge about my recent relationship status as Kath did, so why did Kath think she can tell her what to do?
As we get to further into this post and the real reason why Kath set this “boundary” is revealed, you will see why I actually think any argument Kath has against Emily for getting with me at the party is automatically void, but we will learn these details as they come.
Start of February
After the events of the party, Kath didn’t want to talk to Emily the next day when she tried to initiate communication via message (Kath tends to avoid in-person confrontation). Fair enough, Emily gave her space. Me and Emily spend the next day together just talking and getting to know each other more, and it’s clear that we vibe together and both feel very comfortable with each other, which is pretty rare for both of us.
I don’t see Tom for the first few days after the party, as he had been staying at Kath’s. When I do, I’m a bit surprised that he didn’t think much of Kath’s reaction at the party. He says “yeah I probably should have warned you about this beforehand”. We both agree that Emily was in the wrong for going back on what she said, but also that Kath shouldn’t have tried to control her like that. He did say “sorry I know this put you in an awkward position”.
A few days after the party, Emily again tries to get in touch with Kath via message.
Emily’s message essentially apologised for her actions, saying she was in the wrong for going back on what she said, and that she should have said from the start that she wasn’t happy with this “boundary”. She also said that Kath shouldn’t have tried to dictate her life and tell her what to do, especially when it’s something that’s none of her business, and that she is going to continue seeing me, taking the risk of being a “rebound”.
Kath’s response essentially said the whole incident at the party was only a small part of why she exploded so intensely, this was just the last in a long line of things Emily had done in the past which she had not forgiven her for. This was just the last straw for Kath because “it hit so close to home, so close to the love of my life”. She wanted things to be civil between them until the end of their tenancy, but this was essentially the end of their friendship.
Okay good, Kath flipping out so badly now finally made a bit more sense to me. Obviously, I wanted to know what Emily had done that was so bad to cause this, as any indicators of bad character would inform whether I choose to keep talking to her.
Emily went through these, explaining that these were incidents from their past that they had discussed at the time, dealt with and moved on from. I have cut these out for the word limit as they don’t add much to this post, but it was the most minor, nonsensical things (I can explain in the comments if anyone wants details).
In any case, I wasn’t particularly interested in what mistakes Emily might have made months or years ago, I was more interested in what her character was like now and going forward.
Early/Mid February
So here’s where the main situation we’re in now starts. For context, Kath and Emily’s apartment is in the city center, close to where both mine and Tom’s offices are, so it would make sense to go over in the evening and go into work from theirs the next morning, as Tom has been doing once or twice a week for the last few months.
It's worth noting that ever since the party right up to the present moment, Emily and Kath have not been interacting at all, avoiding each other in their apartment, only messaging for things like bill payments.
The first time I planned to go stay round Emily’s place was early/mid-February. When I mention this to Tom, he tells me that Kath has been having a really bad time mentally since the party, and the thought of me and Emily being there together triggers her anxiety. He asks me not to go over to their apartment for the next couple of weeks or so while she’s in this particularly bad phase. I don’t really understand what me going over and seeing Emily has to do with Kath’s anxiety (and Tom says he doesn't really understand it either himself), but I say okay fine it’s not that big of deal, I won’t go over for the time being.
Now, a valid question for myself is why I decided to keep seeing Emily, despite knowing that Kath had fallen out with her and therefore knowing it could potentially cause fiction between me and Tom. I don’t think I did anything wrong for several reasons:
· I suppose there’s the general visceral reaction against being told what to do. Like mind your own business, it’s not my fault Kath decided to get involved in my business. Why should she get what she wants when she’s the one being unreasonable? Why should we deny ourselves the opportunity of getting to know someone we seem to vibe with just because Tom’s girlfriend doesn’t like it?
· Before I even knew there was any issue at all, it was already too late; I had already gotten with Emily, they had already fallen out, and Kath already thought I was a dickhead. So what good would it do now to not see each other? Kath already didn’t like me (and she had also previously told me that once she doesn’t like someone, there’s no going back, they’re finished in her mind).
· In the initial first few days after the party, both me and Tom were kind of expecting that Kath’s reaction would blow over in a few days after she had cooled down. How could I have predicted that her reaction would instead continue getting increasingly intense as the situation went on?
· Frankly, I was annoyed at Tom at this point. He knew how Kath had reacted to me messaging Emily, so why did he just bend over and enable his girlfriends’ controlling, unreasonable behavior without question? If it was my girlfriend acting like this generally, I’d be like “why are you getting involved in their business, just let them do what they want?”, and especially so if it was directly affecting one of my close friends.
· Fundamentally, there’s no inherent reason why there had to be any issue at all? Okay Kath has ended her friendship with Emily and might not like that we’re seeing each other, but there’s no need for there to be any continued drama. Obviously we won’t all be hanging out as a four having fun like I had initially hoped, but that doesn’t mean we can’t just exist as adults and be civil? The only reason this continues to be an issue in the first place is because Kath is making it an issue for everyone else involved.
· Finally, I actually like Emily – from the first few days it was clear it wasn’t just going to be a FWB situation. If it felt like more of a superficial FWB situation, then yeah I probably would have just thought it’s not worth the drama, even though I thought Kath was the one in the wrong.
Late February
Over the month of February, me and Emily keep hanging out and getting closer. Whilst I was keeping a very close eye on her for any sign of character flaws (it was still possible that Kath could be in the right, even though her side of it didn’t make much sense to me), the more I got to know her, the more it seemed my initial judgment of her was accurate. I saw how she acted with her other friends, they all seemed to really value and appreciate her. I saw her helping out her friend in need of a fairly large amount of money without a second thought, I saw her going to accompany her friend for a medical scan they had, and generally she was really nice and thoughtful with me. Not exactly the behavior of an inconsiderate person.
Sometime in late February, Emily messages me completely baffled. She couldn’t believe that Kath had invited over a girl from their social circle, Dianne. The reason why this is a bit scandalous is because Kath is always talking shit about Dianne behind her back. And it’s not just “she can be a bit annoying sometimes”, it’s an explicit sentiment of how much she dislikes her, how much of a bad person she is and how much she wants her removed from her life. And she does this frequently, I barely speak to Kath and even I’ve heard her rant about how much she doesn’t like Dianne. So, she’s constantly saying this kind of stuff behind her back, and here she is now inviting her round for tea acting all friendly. I just found that so two-faced and this inevitably shaped my perception of Kath being deceptive.
Not long after I heard about this, Kath was round our place over the weekend. Me, Tom and Kath were heading off to our friend’s housewarming party later that day, with me driving us. At one point when the three of us are all in the kitchen, Kath speaks to me properly for the first time since the party, basically to clear the air. She says she doesn’t want there to be any bad blood between us and that her problem wasn’t with me, it was with Emily. I just say that I was cool with her, I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable with me or when coming over to our apartment, and that the situation between her and Emily was between them and not my business.
I wasn’t entirely convinced with her “clearing the air”, given that I had seen she apparently has no issue with being two-faced, but at the time I thought it was best to stay cool with her for the sake of me and Tom’s friendship and also I didn’t particularly fancy spending the rest of the day and a long car ride with awkward vibes.
End of February
At the end of February, Tom asks me how things are going with Emily and basically advises caution with her. He says that from what he’s seen she’s basically not a good person and she’s generally inconsiderate. I tell him I find that surprising from what I’ve seen of Emily, but I know it’s possible she could have just been putting on a front for the last month. I openly accept this, saying “I want to hear what you have to say, obviously you’re my friend and I respect your opinion”.
Essentially, he doesn’t bring up anything that I hadn’t already been told.
When I question Tom on why Kath thought she was a mind reader and assuming what my intentions were with Emily at the very start of this whole thing, Tom reveals he had since found out that the real reason Kath had forbidden Emily from getting with me in the first place actually wasn’t really to do with me recently breaking up with my girlfriend/using Emily as a rebound (Tom said this was a minor part of the reason, more of an excuse to base it on). It was more that Kath already knew beforehand that she wanted to end her friendship with Emily and was essentially trying to prevent her still being part of her life (i.e. by getting close to her boyfriend’s friend/flatmate).
Now it all made sense why Kath tried to “ban” her from getting with me in the first place. I’m not sure if Tom thought telling me this would make me more sympathetic to Kath’s side of it, but if anything, this deceptive behavior was even more of a red flag to me. As far as everyone (except for Kath) was concerned, her and Emily were best friends. Kath had even said to Emily a couple of weeks before the party that “she was like a sister to her”.
Tom didn’t seem to have much issue with this, saying something along the lines of “yeah I know she shouldn’t have kept all this stuff bottled up, but she doesn’t like confrontation, it makes her really anxious”.
After learning this, I think any argument for Emily being in the wrong for disobeying Kath’s instructions at the party is automatically void: Imagine having the audacity to be like “yeah I know I tried to control you by framing it as me being a protective friend looking out for you, but actually it was really because I wanted to end my friendship with you anyway teehee 😊”. In my view that is just so manipulative. No wonder the reason given to Emily for not getting with me made no sense to her.
When I revealed this to Emily, she said that she had been suspecting that was the case anyway, but it still really hurt to hear it confirmed.
Form her perspective it was like: “So was Kath holding all these grudges all the times I was consoling her for whatever mental health issue she was having at any given time?” (I wonder if Tom was thinking what a bad person Emily was when it was him and Emily staying up till stupid o’clock trying to console Kath who was crying about job applications a few weeks before all this kicked off). There are many other examples of things she had done for Kath in both the recent and more distant past.
Kath also knew that Emily’s best friend had killed herself a few years prior, and after going through the loss of her best friend, Emily had always said she was super hesitant to call anyone her “best friend”. Kath knew about this and still let Emily believe they were best friends, whilst she clearly didn’t really mean it, which I think is quite cruel of her.
Despite what I had seen of Emily so far, I still took what Tom said into account, and continued to watch her carefully.
Mid March
Another couple of weeks pass and given that my last interaction with Kath was her clearing the air with me, I thought everything was now cool between us. I mention to Tom at the start of the week that I’m planning to stay at their apartment later that week and he says “okay cool”. However, later that same evening, he once again asks me not to go over to their apartment. Apparently when he told Kath that I was going over, she started having a panic attack at the thought of me going there.
At this point I’m really started to get frustrated at this situation and again I try to understand exactly what the problem is, because this entire time Kath and Tom have been coming and going to either apartment as they please, so Kath clearly doesn’t have a problem coming to my apartment while I’m there. Tom again says that he doesn’t fully understand it himself, and that Kath doesn’t want to feel this way either, but she’s in a really bad place at the moment and me being there with Emily is really triggering her anxiety.
This makes no sense to me or Emily, because we obviously wouldn’t do anything to make Kath uncomfortable, and from our perspective this is just enabling her dysfunctional way of dealing with this situation.
Even though I still don’t understand what the fuck me seeing Emily has got to do with Kath’s mental health, I’m obviously not going to barge my way into someone’s home when I’m not welcome. So once again, I do as I’m told and say I won’t go over. But I do tell Tom that this situation isn’t going to continue going on like this indefinitely, and to me it feels to me like I’m being walked all over, in the sense of “oh yeah no worries, you two carry on going to either apartment as you please, I’ll just sit here like a dickhead and follow my instructions, don’t worry about it 😊”. He does say sorry and that he knows it’s inconvenient for us, but it's an even bigger inconvenience for Kath.
It’s worth bearing in mind that at this point, I could have responded to this situation by saying that if I’m not welcome at her apartment, Kath is not welcome here (or equally Emily could say to Kath “you can’t bring Tom round”). Whilst yes, it’s a bit petty, I think this would be a completely justified response to prevent a situation where we are being walked all over. Because what would be the alternative? They just carry on doing as they please indefinitely whilst Emily is told she isn’t allowed to have equal use of her own apartment? Now obviously telling your friend that his girlfriend isn’t allowed to come over is really a last resort and would definitely put a big dent in our friendship, and generally I have no desire to control what anyone else does, so of course I didn’t respond in this way.
Despite my frustration at this entire situation, I do feel bad for Tom because I can see how uncomfortable he seems during these conversations with me, he obviously doesn’t want to give me these unreasonable instructions. I can only assume he’s just trying to do whatever he can to keep his girlfriend afloat and prevent her next meltdown. I’ve been there myself dealing with a girlfriend with mental health issues, so I don’t want to actively make things worse for my friend either. However, I’m also worried that it’s likely to get worse for him the more he feeds into it and gets sucked into it.
At this point, the cynical side of me couldn’t help but wonder if Kath was being a bit manipulative and leaning into all the mental health stuff to maintain control of the situation.
· She seemingly is unable to give a reason for exactly why me and Emily being in her apartment makes her so uncomfortable. To me, this was completely indistinguishable from her just hating the fact that we’re together.
· All this reminds me of exactly the same kind of manipulative behavior I saw with that ex-girlfriend.
· She’s shown she has no problem with being intentionally deceptive – maybe if the entire basis of this situation hadn’t started off with Kath being manipulative she would have a bit more credibility in my eyes.
I know this kind of behavior is often not even intentional, and that it can be subconscious where the person doesn’t even realise they’re being manipulative.
(Still Mid March)
Now we get to the part that pisses me off the most in this whole situation. Only a few days after that conversation with Tom, for some reason Kath comes to stay in our apartment for the weekend while Tom was away at a house party. As in, it’s just me and Kath in my apartment.
Personally, I couldn’t imagine having the nerve to say to someone they aren’t welcome in my home because their presence triggers me, and then only a mere few days later actively choosing to go stay the weekend at their place while it’s just us two in the apartment. Like either my presence triggers you or it doesn’t?
Now to be fair, Tom had asked me a week or two beforehand if Kath could come to our apartment to hang out with someone from our friend group while he was away, and I said that was cool. Anyway, those plans fell through, but Kath still came over by herself.
But the main thing that pissed me off about this is that Tom, after knowing that I was already feeling like I was being taken for a mug in this situation, apparently didn’t even think it was worth bothering to check with me if it was still cool with me that Kath came round, given our conversation a few days prior.
If he’d at least checked in like, “I know it’s a bit weird that she’s coming to stay round by herself after having just said that your presence triggers her anxiety”, I still would’ve said okay, because I have no desire to control what anyone does. But it was just the fact he didn’t seem to care, saying “btw Kath is gonna stay here tonight” moments before leaving to his party.
To me it felt like he had spent the last month or so basically giving me instructions to make sure everyone caters to his girlfriend’s feelings, and yet didn’t give the slightest consideration to how this would make me feel. Part of me was thinking does he even see me as a friend or just as an inconvenience to his relationship at this point?
I spoke to Tom in the week following this, expressing how I had felt about Kath staying round. He did apologise and acknowledged he could’ve checked in with me, but he didn’t really seem to understand why her coming over like that was such a kick in the teeth for me. He said Kath doesn’t have a problem with me, it’s only a very specific situation that triggers her (i.e. me and Emily being in her apartment together).
Again I try to understand exactly why it’s a problem. Ever since the party, Emily’s presence in their apartment has consisted of her quietly staying in her room, quickly cooking her food and going straight back to her room. She doesn’t spend 2 hours in the kitchen making food like Kath and Tom sometimes do when he’s there.
Tom again says he doesn’t fully understand it himself. From what he understands, it’s triggering because her home is her safe space and if we’re both there it’s like there’s two hostile presences in that safe space. He reiterated that she is in a very dark place at the moment, and that she’s been having frequent panic attacks and suicidal thoughts.
Tom then says that Kath would be prepared to leave the apartment if me and Emily wanted to meet there, and Kath would basically get out of the way and come to me and Tom’s apartment instead. This did give me a bit more confidence that Kath wasn’t just purposefully making things difficult.
If Kath genuinely meant this, then of course that’s really appreciated, but I’m obviously not going to make her leave her own home and come all the way to ours to then have a 2 hour commute to her work. It’s so over the top and needless. I think that this clearly isn’t a functional solution going forward. What if one day when we want to meet up, Kath has had a long day at work and doesn’t feel like leaving her apartment (obviously, fair enough!), what if she’s got plans with friends in her apartment that evening? In any case, it’s still a situation where rules are being imposed on us, I can never just spontaneously decide to go see Emily one day after work or something. We still can’t come and go freely in the same way they have been doing for the past two months. It would be much better to understand why exactly it’s such a problem and see how we’re going to find a long-term solution, instead of Kath just running away from it.
The cynical side of me was wondering if Kath was just saying this knowing that neither me or Emily are realistically going to make her leave her own home, and if we do agree to it, then she can say “oh look how inconsiderate they are, making me leave my own home just so that they can be in the apartment”, ensuring that she keeps Tom firmly on her side.
Logically, I would’ve thought as time goes on, Kath would eventually get used to the situation and just accept it. Conversely, is it not quite understandable that the longer we have rules imposed on us, the more frustrated we become?
Once again say that I won’t go over and tell him that I won’t press this issue for the time being.
Late April
So now we get to the latest development in the situation, which is the crux of this post.
For the next month or so after that conversation with Tom, me and Emily have just been following our instructions and not pressed anything, whilst they continue coming and going as they please. One weekend we’re talking about the whole ‘Kath situation’ and we say “okay we’ve left it for a while now, it’s probably time to see how we’re going to move forward with this”.
In that next week, Emily sends Kath the following message:
“Hey, I appreciate this message might be uncomfortable but we need to discuss the fact that Jake can’t come here while you’re at home because I know that him and Tom have spoken about this but we’ve never addressed it with each other and I think it’s unfair that they’ve been largely absorbing this conflict this whole time. Can you please tell me what the exact problem would be and how we could make it work? At the end of the day we both pay equal rent here and I should be allowed to bring someone over, especially considering that Tom comes here whenever you want. We’re nothing more than just 2 housemates now and if you were living with a stranger from Spareroom such restrictions couldn’t have existed. I think I’ve let it slide and should have addressed it earlier, but it’s time we come up with a fair solution and I’d like to know if there’s anything reasonable we can do. I don’t want to go into other conversations about our fallout cause that’s done and dusted now, I want to strictly address this issue. Would you like some notice before he comes? I can’t always guarantee how far in advance I can let you know but I will do my best to give you enough time.”
Kath’s response:
“hey, I do not really appreciate this conversation being brought up 2 days before my birthday and I wish we can settle it today and not drag it on. And I do not appreciate you using Tom as a weapon to guilt trip me either. Please let me know if he is coming over tonight so that I can go somewhere else. As u probably already know I am in a really bad place at the moment and being in the apartment with both of you makes me feel very uncomfortable and unsafe. I’m already struggling to be there and I have been discussing with the agency about terminating the contract early, the terms have only been made clear to me today so I was going to message you about it. By paying a fee of £660 (£330 each) we can terminate the contract 12^th of June and I wish u will consider this. I will be gone from the apartment for 2 weeks. I would really appreciate it if you do not bring him over in the next few days as I said it will be my birthday and I will be gone for 2 weeks after if you decide to do so after this, please let me know at least 2 days in advance so that I can leave (pack clothes and everything), but do not take advantage of this as it is extremely difficult for me to commute to work – it takes me 2 hours on the bus”
Emily’s response to this:
“I don’t appreciate you using your birthday as a “weapon” to paint me as an inconsiderate person once again as you’re saying you were going to message me anyway about terminating the contract. You always have Tom round without any notice, without ever considering if it was ever uncomfortable for me given what’s happened - but now you expect me to organise our schedule around you? We can’t ever do something spontaneous or simply make plans the day before? Jake won’t be coming tonight or in the next few days until you’re away. I was hoping we could talk about why exactly this makes you uncomfortable and unsafe as it’s quite clear we wouldn’t interact with you or do anything to purposely upset/annoy you. You also had no problem being in his apartment with him without Tom there, so clearly his presence must not be that big of a problem. I am going to get back to you about terminating the contract as I have to figure out where I would go, but I’d love nothing more than to leave this apartment as early as possible too.”
There was no response after Emily’s second message.
Tom comes back to our apartment the next day and ignores me all day until the evening when he asks “Did you know that Emily was going to send those messages?”.
I say “Yes, obviously?”. He responds with “Right, okay” and starts walking back towards his room.
I ask him what was wrong with the messages, and he comes back and says “what the fuck is Emily doing sending messages like that to my suicidal girlfriend?”. He essentially thought the tone of the messages, the proximity to Kath’s birthday and the fact that we’re once again bringing up this issue of me coming round was out of order. He also said that Emily’s 2^nd message was implying that she was just going to bring me round without any notice anyway (looking at the message, no it wasn’t? It was just highlighting the unfairness of Kath expecting us to organise our schedule around her? None of the messages say that I’m going to come over, they are essentially just trying to understand exactly why it makes Kath uncomfortable).
We also did note that it was Kath’s birthday on the Friday (messages were sent on Tuesday). Maybe that wasn’t ideal, but we thought what real difference does it make? This is nothing new, it’s the same situation that’s been ongoing for the last 3 months anyway (and personally, I thought that up until the moment Kath says “okay sorry, I shouldn’t have imposed rules on you” then she shouldn’t expect that this won’t be brought up to her?).
I was a bit shocked at how angry he was and explained that we’re just trying to understand exactly what her issue is, because it still doesn’t make any sense to us. I bring up the general point about Kath imposing rules on people and expects everyone to cater to her feelings, whilst zero consideration has been given to how Emily has felt over the last 3 months, when not only does it make her uncomfortable as well that there are two “hostile presences” in her home, but especially given that those hostile presences have told her she’s not allowed to have equal use of her apartment she also pays rent for.
Tom responds with “but it’s not making Emily feel suicidal is it? Kath was having convulsions on the fucking bed last night after those messages. Why do you keep focusing on this tiny issue of coming to the apartment when my girlfriend is literally suicidal? She’s already said she’d make arrangements to leave the apartment for when you want to come over, and yet you keep pressing the issue and triggering her further”.
In that moment I was a bit taken aback and didn’t have much of a response. I kind of just sat and processed that for a few minutes, thinking “fuck, have I actually been in the wrong this whole time?”. Tom looked exhausted and stressed out, he must have been dealing with Kath’s meltdown the whole of the night before.
I say to Tom “tell Kath not to worry about me coming over while she’s there, I’m not going to, I’ll just leave it for good and won’t press this issue anymore”. Tom doesn’t give much of a response, but I think he says “I appreciate it”. He leaves for his two-week holiday shortly after.
I felt really bad that evening, thinking I had caused Tom to have to deal with whatever horrible meltdown because of me pressing this issue. Maybe I had been overly cynical of Kath, and she genuinely was just trying her best and not meaning to be manipulative.
When Tom got back from his holiday, he basically confirmed our friendship is over because I had known about those messages that caused his girlfriend to feel suicidal.
I’ve thought about the situation a lot since he left for his holiday:
· Looking back at the messages Emily sent, I think the tone is completely fine? Every single person I’ve shown the messages to has said they are actually quite kind and empathetic, and way nicer than they need to be given Kath’s behavior over the last 3 months.
· Tom’s reaction was essentially “how dare Emily have the audacity to ask for a reason why she hasn’t been allowed to have equal use of her own apartment for the last 3 months!”
· It’s true that Tom had mentioned that Kath had been having some suicidal thoughts a month prior, but I didn’t know that this would directly impact that, especially since I thought the message was quite nice and sensitive. Just the weekend before this Tom and Kath were out clubbing, having fun and they were going on holiday later that week. So obviously I didn’t realise she was still feeling so bad. How could anyone expect that simply asking the question of “why does this make you so uncomfortable” would result in this reaction.
· As soon as I did realise how intensely Kath had reacted, and what Tom had had to deal with as a result, I backed off straight away, saying that she doesn’t have to worry, I’m not going to press it anymore.
· Realistically, if this is how Kath reacts to being asked for basic fairness, then I think really she needs to be in a mental health crisis center or hospital, not just carrying on with everyday life as if everything is fine, and certainly not in a situation where she’s imposing rules on people.
· At the end of the day, Kath’s mental health is not my responsibility, nor is it Tom’s responsibility. I think it’s unfair of Kath to have made it his problem to such a large degree.
Logically, I don’t think I’m in the wrong, and yet Tom’s reaction to this makes me feel like I’m going crazy. That’s why I wrote out everything’s that’s happened from start to finish to “audit” myself and evaluate each of my actions throughout the entire situation.
I’ve looked back and don’t think I’m in the wrong for anything I’ve done. The only explanation I can think of is that Tom has been so deep in all of Kath’s mental health stuff 24/7 that he’s just not thinking clearly about this situation.

So i’ve only been married 3 months & Me and my husband are living with his family, his mum dad & younger brother.
My sister in law comes over EVERY day at the same time for around 2/3 hours, I don’t know if i’m being horrible & dramatic or if it is actually something i can feel unsettled by.
I have no problem with her coming as it is her mums house, but she brings her 2 kids & my in laws expect me to come out of my room and spend time with her and her kids. Her kids are also, to be honest, way too clingy, physically and also keep wanting to be in my space, in my room. Bearing in mind I work full time & finish work around 5/6 which is when she comes over for 2/3 hours, sometimes till like 9:00, after work, I feel like i just need space to do my own things like clean my room, (also have a new business on the side) so i want to put time into that & sometimes i just wan to chill after a long work day!
Also, if I do want to cook anything after work I have to make extra, just so her and her kids can eat, I don’t mind this, however, their have been one too many occasions where i have cooked and made extra yet she selfishly puts alot in her plate for herself and then for her kids & there’s hardly anything left for myself and husband to eat once never mind the following day. I Initially made the dish for me and my husband as meal prep for work!
I have no idea how to deal with this & if i’m just being dramatic, please help x

TLDR; I left my super team and no one wanted me, now I’m unemployed…what do I do next?
I led Man United to glory for 8 long years. I built a monster team that rarely lost. I trusted the youth, signed a few superstars and had a blast.
Though all good things must come to an end, and I was feeling that the save was stale. Contract was up, and I resigned with a plan.
Real Madrid needed a new manager and I just so happened to be interested. The new Galaticos was my dream. I got an interview, was the leading candidate for months…and they didn’t pick me.
I had chances to go to PSG, Dortmund, and Milan though I wasn’t sold. International management seemed good, the WC had just happened and it seemed like the perfect time to breathe new life into a team. I wanted England, even rejected France and Holland for them. Though once I applied I was called “desperate” and laughed out of the room.
I’m now unemployed, with no teams available that really interest me. Taking a step down quality wise isn’t ideal, but it seems like the only choice. Maybe it’s the only way to prove my worth?
Any ideas or suggestions let me know! Otherwise I will be unemployed for a while…

I’ve been working with my 9 year old client since last summer. Our home sessions usually go well and I only have to remind her to focus on our work a couple of times. Unfortunately over the last few weeks her negative behaviour has increased drastically. My supervisor for my other client has helped me with this case when I first started and at the beginning of this year had mentioned something about her having multiple diagnoses. I didn’t ask what they were at the time. More recently I overheard my client’s parents talking in the next room and I heard them talking about psychopaths/psychopathic behaviour and getting treatment for it. My client has been saying some disturbing things to me when she gets upset at her parents or with me. Is knowing the other diagnoses she has something I should be included in?

I’m suffering beyond belief from the grass pollen here.
I keep doors, windows, blinds, and curtains closed.
I have a Winix 535 in my bedroom and Dyson in the living room. I also have a dehumidifier running all day to keep humidity below 50 which makes me feel better.
I’m so desperate that I’m considering getting a second air purifier for the bedroom.
The bedroom is not even large, but I’m willing to get a second if it will make a difference.
Any other tip would be helpful.
I know it’s impossible to completely keep pollen from coming in so any advice will be helpful.

His discography is highkey Insane, maybe the best of the 2010s tbh, he made about 20 projects in that 8 year span (RIP). Additionally he was a great producer and musician, playing many instruments and producing a lot of work between him and his peers. Also all of his albums are great front to back and go great for a full listen.
Anyways for you hiphopheads let me recommend you some great music.
Experimental Psychedelic Hip Hop:

• Faces (2014) dark, honest, insanely well crafted and dense. Jazz influence. Most call this his magnum opus.
  
• Watching Movies With the Sound Off (2013)
  
• Macadelic (2012) very beginning of his transition from youthful ‘frat rap’ into storytelling, unique expressing himself. Laid groundwork for a lot of future releases. Standout tracks: Thoughts From A Balcony, Vitamins, Aliens vs Robots, 1 Threw 8.
  
• GO:OD AM (2015) is his more traditional Rap Album.
  

‘Frat’ Rap and Youthful Beginnings

• K.I.D.S. (2010) The beginning of it all. He released a few mixtapes before this but this was his first homerun. Amazing and Nostalgic. This whole era is just fun, feel good tunes. Although his early raps were alot of about girls and drugs (can you blame him? He was about 18 in 2010), from Day 1 he had something special. Flow, Lyrical ability. Also as youthful as he was, I think you will all still appreciate the old school quality about his music, dude was awesome at sampling and homage, Nikes on my Feet is a good example, from the old hip hop legends to the funky indie music he had his ear to the landscape of artists.
  
• Best Day Ever (2011) Standout tracks: Donald Trump, Keep Floatin’, BDE Bonus
  
• I Love Life, Thank You (2011) Standout tracks: Miller Family Reunion
  
• Sour Hour (4.20.2010) Has an awesome Crumblin’ Herb song. And check out Flyin’ Away.
  
• Blue Slide Park (2011) Most call this his worst album, also his first. Although it was a #1 album it recieved alot of criticism, which Mac took hard/to heart, and likely influenced his trajectory into inteospective music. Still a good album, with great songs, weaker as a whole, but fun, sorta indie vibes. I love the intro.
  

Musicality, Instruments

• Swimming (2018) Besides Faces, this is his magnum opus as well lol. Released just a month before his untimely passing ❤️ it showed a transition into a whole new era and sound of Mac Miller. A beautiful blend of hip hop and r&b with a fresh taste of musicality. Also dense and great start to finish. Standout tracks: Jet Fuel, What’s the Use?
  
• Circles (2020) Continuation from Swimming, this was supposed to be apart of a 3 album concept, Swimming in Circles to Infinity, before Mac transitioned onwards, released posthumously with Brion John I believe finishing some of it. A bit more melancholy, surreal. Good News should make you Ball, or Surf my favorite. Also Hand Me Downs a great one, Complicated.
  
• The Divine Feminine (2016) R&B Love album. Marked his transition from experimental hip hop, then GO:OD AM. Standout tracks: Cinderella. Stay.
  
• Balloonerism (2014ish) sort of a leaked unofficial album, this has some moments man. Sorta trippy/surreal idk. Stand out tracks: Excelsior, Funny Papers, Friendly Hallucinations.
  

More Experimental

• You (2012) Had an awesome phase of dabbling, this might be the precursor to The Divine Feminine. Jazzy, Love album by the artist ‘Larry Lovestein, & The Velvet Revival’ lmao.
  
• Run-On Sentences: Volume One (2013) This is my fucking favorite. Trippy beat tape produced by yours truly apparently on a laptop in a hotel room. Very trippy.
  
• Run-On Sentences: Volume Two (2015)
  

In addition, the boy has a Dense vault of unreleased bangers that are still leaking to this day. Some of his best work I’m happy to share. (Lmk. Standouts: Pure, Oracle, Sideways). Apparently there was a scrapped album with Pharrell, one with MacLib that he claimed he is finishing to be released, and many other collabs. He did a great 3 song EP with BADBADNOTGOOD titled My Shoes Are Untied.
Quit Sleeping! ⏰ Most Dope 🙏🏼

My husband is not a heavy porn user and I don’t know if it would count as addiction or not. He used a couple times a week from what I have seen, but for years he told me he didn’t touch the stuff, just had a naturally low sex drive etc. I’ve always had a high sex drive and been adventurous in bed, so I was disappointed but made my peace with it.
Fast forward to dday1 when we were engaged and I found regular porn usage in his browser. Several further ddays and it became apparent he preferred porn to sex and had a number of preferred porn stars he devoted his sexual energy to (leaving none for me). Our sex life collapsed, he’d lied to me for years and my self esteem was shot as these women are nothing like me, both in physique and age.
He also used porn at times that were especially hurtful. After fights about our sex life (like in the spare room wanking while I’m crying next door) and after I came home from a pregnancy procedure and needed his care. He also texted all his friends about how hot the nurse who delivered our first baby was, which honestly broke my heart as it was such a special, sacred moment for me and all I can think of is how my husbands eyes were elsewhere.
We’ve been through all the usual stuff, ‘it’s not a big deal’ ‘every guy does it’ ‘I wasn’t meant to know’ ‘I’m being sensitive’ but I am just so sad and tired of slowly discovering the man I loved and I have pledged my life to is just a liar and a pig behind closed doors.
This is just a vent and I guess looking for any advice from those that have come out the other side, either together or apart.
Our baby is months old. I desperately wanted another baby but am just so tired of this constant issue/sadness in my life.