When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*

This post has the potential to be a bit long, so please bear with me...
A question I often ask myself is "are there financial planners for people like me who don't have a ton of money and often barely make ends meet?" So now, I guess I'm asking this sub. I don't know where to turn at this point in my life, which has been riddled with terrible financial decisions, bad luck, and family health issues.
About me: 39, male, USA. I work full-time for a health care company in Pennsylvania, making right around $88K yearly before taxes and deductions. My wife is unable to work due to a variety of health issues (both mental and physical), but does have a small Etsy shop that brings in an average of $300 on a good month. We have an unusually large family by today's standards -- 7 children ranging from 6 years old (twins) to 17. This is the part where people usually look at me like I have three heads, understandably so. Before my wife's health issues, she was a paramedic and in nursing school. So the plan was to eventually have two incomes once the kids were a bit older, but life didn't turn out that way. And before anyone asks, yes, we are done with having kids. I love them all more than life itself and would never imagine a world without them, but I am smart enough now to know that it would not have been this hard with fewer kids.
It's been very hard (nay, impossible) to get by on one income and a large family, even with some help from relatives along the way. But through it all, we have barely made it work, although I have shot my credit to hell and back in the process. My score hovers around 550 to 570 most of the time, but plummets pretty fast if I miss a payment on something.
Right now, high interest debt is my main issue. I have a variety of low-limit credit cards all maxed out (probably $5k total) a personal loan from OneMain Financial ($400 payment), an auto loan from Carvana/BridgeCrest ($508 payment, worst mistake of my life honestly but was in a desperate situation at the time), and student loans I've had to either defer or flat out stop paying. Other high expenses are groceries, obviously, but I do get $600 in SNAP benefits each month, car insurance at $250 per month because my wife has gotten into a few accidents the last 5 years, and of course rent, which is $1,900 since we need a 5-bedroom house for our large family. We used to own our home but were forced to sell in 2022 due to a variety of issues and our dire need to find a larger place to live for our growing kids.
Suffice to say, most months we either barely make ends meet, or don't at all. I sometimes have to rely on cash advance apps like MoneyLion and Earnin just to make it to the next payday. I have pretty much nothing in savings except for a very small "retirement" account, which is in quotes because I contribute 1% to it just to get my company match. I drained it a few years ago during an emergency that is too long of a story to tell here.
Everyone that I have talked to has said the same essential thing -- to look for a higher-paying job. While this is true, it's more complicated than that in reality. My current job (which I have been at for 1.5 years) affords me the flexibility to work from home most days, and understands that I need to care for my wife (who has substantial mental health issues) and kids and not be "on" 100% of the time. That is often more valuable than a higher salary, but I do know that I am capable and skilled enough in my field to eventually take a shot at a higher paying job.
So. What the heck do I do? Is there someone I can talk to about all this, who can give me real, practical advice? Would a credit union be able to help me with my high-interest debt yet terrible credit score/profile? Ideally, I would love to be able to consolidate all my debt into something more manageable. Is that even a possibility with my credit being bad? I get mail offers all the time saying I am "pre-selected" or pre-approved for a consolidation loan from some random company. I think these are all debt relief companies or possibly a scam, right? I am also severely underwater with our current vehicle as mentioned above. I owe probably 8k more than what it's worth right now, and the van is pretty much a lemon with how many problems it has.
Thank you for reading all this. I am a fairly positive person (I have to be, with the kids and taking care of my wife) but this feels pretty hopeless to me right now. I just wish I could hand over everything to someone who can manage my finances for me, and do the heavy lifting to get things under control. Sigh.

My daughter (almost 6) had been obsessed with cats forever. She really wants one. My husband grew up with cats but never “took” care of them. His mom did.
I have always had big dogs. (Same with my hubs). I have been taking my daughter to the humane society about once a month to play with the cats, “help” clean and care for them and generally expose her to the different cat personalities.
I’m allergic but am willing to get shots and I hear you get used to your own cat.
Here are my fears… I have met cats I LOVE and cats I did not like. For example I like most dogs I meet but cats that I like are like 1 in 5. But the cats I like, I’m crazy about.
I have heard absolute horror stories of my friends or family whose cat decided to be a dick and pees on the bed, pillows, clothes when they don’t like that their food changed, they went out town etc. (yes they were checked and cleared of diabetes, uti or other health concerns, cat was just an asshole). I do not think I could tolerate an intentional repeated offense like this. Obviously, I can tolerate an animal who is sick or had an accident but these cases were long term asshole cats.
I like social cats. I have personally watched my friends’ cats grow up for the last 13 years. They went from social cats to never leaving from under the bed. Years and years of the cats being terrified to leave a room. They did move in that time buts it’s been 4 years and they still never come out.
How do I prevent that “cat” smell? You know, you go over to a friends house and it absolutely reeks but they have no idea because they are used to it? I have other friends who have cats but their house doesn’t smell. They didn’t really have advice when I asked.
Anything special I should know? How do you pick your cat? What kind should I look for?
Thanks in advance. If we do this, I want to be a good cat owner.

Female, 67 years old. Ruptured my left ACL in a freak accident on March 4th, 2024. Hobbled on crutches until March 13, when I got MRI and saw orthopedic surgeon. My MCL and PCL were sprained, and the medial meniscus was torn in the "white" area. My main complaint was knee instability and so it remains. I had 1 cortisone shot back in April.
Due to my age, surgeon wanted me to rehab, and not go for ACL reconstruction unless absolutely necessary. Had 8 PT sessions; was discharged from PT on April 30th; still do all PT exercises every day. The PT told me that my left knee buckling is because of muscle atrophy.
As soon as I could walk well enough, I returned to the gym and cautiously set about strengthening my quads, hamstrings and calves, using bike, plus circuit weight machines on very low weights.
Before the accident, I was walking 5 miles with friends at 4mph, and working out for 2.5 to 3 hours, 3x a week at a gym (not sporty, but was always into fitness). Eleven weeks since the accident, I've brought the left quads to 45 lbs on the leg extension (right quad is 55), but the left hamstring is stuck at 10 lbs, although I can do 30 on the right hamstring. The left calf muscles aren't coming back much, either.
I see the surgeon again on June 5th. I'm so disappointed at my poor progress. He seemed confident that I would be walking fine by now, but I'm not. My left knee still wants to buckle. Walking on the street or sidewalk doesn't feel right, and my hamstrings burn, although the quads don't hurt. The PT had no suggestions.
Has anybody had any experience with this? So frustrating. I've had to cancel all trips and obviously can't walk with my speedy friends any more.

What started as a panicked attempt to get her over-intoxicated friend to a hospital ended up in a disastrous car crash that claimed the lives of her friends... and a careless God crossing the street. But Sammi's adventure wasn't about to end there. In her dying breath, the God curses Sammi to take up her mantel. Now with her three friends resurrected as ghosts, Sammi has to navigate the tricky world of godhood.
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I love houses. House flipping, house hunting, crazy properties in town, gorgeous exotic vacation destinations. I think in a past life I was a real estate agent. Or a carpenter. Interior designer, actually, probably. Maybe just rich?
Doesn’t matter. I love houses, and I was gonna get myself the best digs in town.
“Best digs in town might be a liiiiittle suspicious?” Joni said as I began adjusting the filters of my favorite search: Lottery houses.
“So do you… we’re looking for a house?” Cara was leaning over my shoulder, watching as I pushed the Rooms, Cost, Square Footage, and Bathrooms options as high as I could. “Cause if you don’t even own a place, I feel like saying you’d answer my questions when we got to New Olympia is kinda a blow off.”
“Not a blow off,” I said. “This probably won’t take too too long. I just don’t want to kick anyone out of their house that, like, is a regular person living their life.”
“Kick them out?”
I paused and looked up at Cara, eyes serious. “Please. The parroting. It’s making me nervous.” Then I looked back down and began sifting through various mansions, penthouses, lake houses, villas. “For sale or for rent?”
“For rent,” Blair said immediately. She propped her head up on her chin as she watched me scroll. “Then you don’t gotta kick anyone out.”
“She’s got a point,” Christopher said. “Both from a, like, humanitarian point of view but also from a logistical point of view. Whoever’s moving needs the money pronto to buy a new house and they’re gonna constantly be dealing with banks and shit. You’d need a new lie a day just to keep them off you. But with rentals and all, first off, landlords renting out ten grand a month properties are already making bank off other units. Yeah you’re screwing them over, but not as bad. They got a buncha others. Second, you pay monthly, so you really only gotta fend them off once a month.”
My thumb jammed the “For Rent/For Sale” switch, and I cranked up the rental price. “What else are we thinking for criteria?”
“Middle of town’s a bad idea,” Joni said. “Too easy to find us.”
“We don’t have to, like, hide though,” Christopher said. “Just say you’re both out on bail. I mean, the point is to find Miller and bring him to justice, right? That’s gonna take time. There’s no place far enough out of town that we could hide in for long.”
I squinted at him, tearing my eyes away from a sexy seven bedroom manor with two pools. “What?”
He sighed, as if convinced that I was in the wrong for not understanding what fuck he just said. “Like, think about it Sammi. We’re not actually gonna be able to hide. Or if we are, it’s gonna be in an alley or some shit.” He wrinkled his nose at the same time I did. “They’re cops with detectives and shit, and they think we shot someone and broke someone else out of jail. They’re gonna find us. We’ll have to lie, not hide, to avoid being put back. So may as well be local to all the action.” With this, he pointed directly at a lofty unit in the center of town.
Hmm. He brought up a valid point, so I checked it out.
A five bedroom penthouse with three terraces giving outdoor views of the entire city. Bathrooms that put the hotel to shame. Closets the size of my old bedroom. A pool deck. Appliances with fancy brand names I only ever heard on episodes of “Dream House” and hadn’t actually realized existed in the real world. Enough bedrooms for me, Cara, and the ghosts to each sleep separately.
For a moment, the enormity of it washed over me. Not just the enormity of the house, though it was enormous, but the reality of what I could accomplish. This apartment was twenty five thousand dollars a month. I’m not entirely sure I’ve made that much money in my life. Or, okay, probably around that, but that’s my point. This was the kind of unit rich people showed off in out-of-touch blogs or escapist shows about the lifestyles of famous people. And it could literally be mine if I could play my cards right. Or not even right. Just not catastrophically wrong.
Cause I was a God. And for the first time since becoming a God, I was using my abilities, my status, my familiars and shit to do something cool. Not rob a TechShack of some earpods or break in or out of a hospital.
This was a big yield.
As I had my little epiphany, Cara had taken over scrolling my phone, much to the relief of my ghosts, who’d started grumbling about the static screen while I zoned out.
“Okay.” Cara looked at me. “I’m not gonna ask any of the questions you know I want to ask, cause that’ll just piss you off.” Thank God she was learning. “So we’ll skip that for now and ask the really important question. How are you gonna get your hands on this place?”
–
Step 1 was to get to the place, which kinda sucked, given we were still at Pizza Dogs. It just wasn’t a very cool start to the coolest scheme I’d ever pulled off. Luckily Pizza Dogs closed at 9, so a solid number of people were leaving the restaurant. I was able to wave down a waitress who’d just checked off of her shift and convince her she was a taxi driver.
“You’re really loving this whole taxiing thing, huh?” Christopher said.
“At least she’s not talking like a robot trying to use slang.” I grit my teeth at the memory of Cops Cop and Taxi Service.
“No, you just told her she was mute.” Blair stuck her lip out. “That’s mean, Sammi.”
“I told her she couldn’t talk. That’s different.” I gave Cara a weak smile, but she hadn’t even commented on my ghost talking. She just buried her face in her hands. See? Learning.
Step 2 was gonna be actually getting in the unit. The listing on HouzeHunting didn’t exactly have the name of the landlord on it, so I was gonna have to get creative getting in touch with them. What it did have was ‘24 hour doorman service,’ which meant getting in would be easy peasy.
Finally we pulled up to the address I’d given our driver. 1732 East Windham Street. She leaned out the window, looking up the seventy story building.
“It’s totally appropriate for you to talk now,” I said as I scrambled out, towing Cara with me. No sense in actually making her mute for life.
The woman nodded. “You, uh, live here or visiting? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I flipped my wad of black hair over my shoulder, wincing at how singularly it moved. I shoulda combed it after my bath yesterday.
“Live here, obviously.” I gave a rich person kinda snort, nose in the air and all.
“Huh.” She looked back at me, rubbing the back of her neck as if it was sore from craning up so high. “But you needed a taxi to get here?”
“Uh.” Rich people used taxis, right? On the ladder from Sammi to Bill Gates, someone had to use them, and if I couldn’t afford a taxi normally, then the typical passenger must exist somewhere above me. “My fancy personal car got towed cause I was parking it in a fire lane.”
The woman didn’t look convinced. Not that she thought I was lying, but she still looked at me like I was dumb as dirt. “You don’t have, like, a personal driver?”
I cocked my head at her, trying to mirror Joni’s sassy tilt but probably just looking confused. “Are you offering?”
Her lips parted, and I could see her brain chewing on this question. “What do you… wait, are you being serious?”
Was I? Suddenly I wasn’t sure. Having a personal chauffeur could be kinda great. Someone always available to text or call when I needed a ride so I wouldn’t have to keep remembering where I left my car. Besides, driving made me nervous. I’d never been a particularly bad driver, no prior accidents, never really hit anything in the past, unless we’re counting bumper cars. Which we’re not, cause I’m a menace in bumper cars. But that’s like the point.
Or, no, the point was, I wanted to minimize driving, and this woman could be key. Of course, I knew nothing about her. What if she had a family at home and I told a too strong lie and she never saw them again?
But then, she wouldn’t be offering if she wasn’t serious, right? Sure I’d lied and told her she was a taxi driver, but the average every day taxi driver didn’t just ditch their families to be rich people’s chauffeur’s.
“Uh. Yeah.” I looked at the ghosts. Two thumbs up from Christopher, one from Blair, and two thumbs down from Joni. That was a total of one thumbs up, if my math was right. “Yeah, I pay ten thousand a month.” We could figure that out later.
The woman’s eyes shot open. “Okay, you’re actually fucking with me. You’re actually offering to hire me for ten thousand a month.”
I nodded. “Yeah. And you can… I mean, if you got your own place, you can stay there obviously but you could also stay in one of my bedrooms. I got some extra ones I was gonna give to the gho–uh, dogs. But I don’t have dogs, so you were next on the list. Well, a chauffeur was next on the list. But also if you’ve got–do you have a family?”
Each of my statements plunked out of my mouth like gumballs out of a broken candy machine. But she just kept nodding like this was a normal proposal.
“I mean, I had a boyfriend.” Her face flushed crimson. “Kinda embarrassing to say at my age. Thought we were–” She took a deep breath. “Thought he was the one. I’m not gonna say I was looking to have kids or anything, so I suppose age doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean I really want to start over. Five years wasted is all, and at my age, the well starts to dry up a bit. People look at you a bit…” She blinked. “I’m sorry, that’s not really what you asked, was it.”
It wasn’t entirely, but I was kinda hooked on the story now. “Yeah it was,” I said. “It was the first question in the interview, and you’re nailing it. Uh, you actually already passed the first round. Let’s take the rest inside.”
The woman let out a shaky breath and smoothed her frizzled hair. “Right, of course. Thank you so much!”
Cara had, thank God, kept her mouth shut this whole interview process, so I just towed my newly formed posse towards the doorman.
“My key got lost,” I said confidently and too quickly, noticing way late that there weren’t any visible keyholes anywhere on the door. “Uh…” I looked nervously at the ghosts.
“Just tell him someone said he should let you in,” Joni said.
“Yeah.” Blair smiled. “Carl from management.”
“No–”
“Carl from management said you should let me in,” I said, bowling over Joni’s protests. “I own that top penthouse suite. Suite 72. The one for rent. Or, not for rent cause I’m renting it now. And I called earlier because my key is broken and Carl your manager said–”
I stopped finally because the doorman had long since stopped frowning perplexedly at me and had just tapped his card against the door.
“Haha,” I said, verbalizing the laugh a little too hard. “Look at me, talking too much as always.”
He frowned again, but nodded nonetheless, before holding the door open for me. “Here you are.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, stepping in like a real fancy lady. “I’ve got it from here.”
And, because I was stupid and always spoke without thinking, he nodded and shut the door behind me.
So technically Step 2 ‘get in’ was done, but it was like, barely done. Like when your mom says ‘go to your room’ so you sit in the doorway. Cause I wasn’t really close to my new apartment yet, which meant a new step on the list. Step 3? Get into New Olympia.
Somehow a little sneaky ‘Step 3b, interview your new chauffeur’ had snuck on the list too, but that would be easy to finish once I got to the actual unit.
It was literally impossible to keep my jaw in its socket as we walked through the lobby. I was actually straight up speechless at how fancy it all was. There was a bar in the lobby, like this was some hotel! Given my experience with rich people things, it was either totally free or thirty bucks a glass. Still, it was pricey enough that I should probably have been charged just for looking at it. Even Cara and the driver had their mouths gaping open as they looked around, taking in the mirror shiny marbely floors and columns.
I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, and really tried to capture this moment of peace and quiet inside the lobby of my new home.
“Blair stop humming, they’ll be able to hear you.”
“I’m using my regular humming, not my banshee humming.”
“My bad, shoulda clarified. I’m able to hear you, and you’re annoying me.”
“Joni, why are you always so mean.”
“She’s, like, kinda got a point. You need to get that stick out of your ass.”
“I’ll get the stick out of my ass when Blair stops humming.”
“Bro, it’s totally more than the humming, and you know it.”
“Is singing okay?”
“No.”
“What about–”
“Why don’t you just whistle, Blair?”
“That’s not nice. You know I can’t whistle.”
“Kinda my point.”
“Hey, be nice to Blair, Joni.”
Peace and quiet were overrated anyway. We were here for schemes.
My eyelids snapped open. In front of me was a big old reddish wood desk. The sign on it said “Main desk, open 7AM to 9 PM.” Next to it was another, more temporary sign, “Partial Service After Hours. Ring Bell For Assisance.”
My eyes drifted hungrily to the shiny golden bell. It was the kind you see in movies and shows, you press down a few times to summon the waiter or whoever sits behind the desk.
“Just once, Sammi,” Joni said, already reading my mind. “You ring it once.”
“But Joni,” I whispered, hand hovering over it, “I’m a God.”
DING DING DING DING DING DING DING
Seven was overkill. The man was there after the first two rings. But I couldn’t stop. It was too satisfying.
He regarded me with pained eyes. “Ma’am, you didn’t have to ring it that many times.”
“I didn’t,” I said confidently. And just like that, the pained look vanished. He didn’t look comfortable though, probably because I didn’t look like I should be there. Time to fix that.
I jutted my chin out. “Is there, like, a master key to all the elevators and units you can give me.”
The guy blinked rapidly. “I’m… sorry, you want what?”
“Lies, Sammi. That was a request!”
This is why we needed Joni and the stick up her ass.
“Uh.”
“Tell him that… I don’t know, someone from management said you could borrow a skeleton key.”
I smiled. “Carl from management told me I could have a skeleton key. A, you know, a key that opens all the doors.” I gave Joni a panicked glance.
She motioned her finger in a repeating loop and mouthed ‘go on.’
“And.” I swallowed. “You said you would give us one.”
The concierge sighed. “I know. I know. I just.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Carl doesn’t manage my department, so if this isn’t the right call, Sandy’s gonna have my head.”
I eyed the ghosts nervously. The lie had worked but it didn’t seem to fully convince him. “Sandy said…”
“Keep it simple,” Joni hissed.
“...that you would give me a key to let me in?”
“Right, please hold a moment, it’s almost done transferring.” The concierge paused and looked at a key card on his desk. He squinted before picking it up and beeping it against a little card pad. It flashed red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “The transfer didn’t go through right. One moment please.” Then he typed on his computer for a few very long minutes while Cara, the driver, and I all stood frozen by the elevator. After several breath-holding moments of silence (yeah, now the ghosts decide to shut up) he tapped the card again and it flashed green. “There we go.”
I let out a long breath before scuttling over to pick up my card. “Thank you!” I said, a cheery forced grin on my face. “Thank you so much! Remember, this came from, uh, Sandy’s boss, and she told you not to tell Sandy, so keep it zipped!”
He mimed zipping his lips as I waved again before rushing to the elevator.
Soon we were zooming up dozens and dozens of levels as my breathing came more and more naturally. Even the elevator was fancy. All golden mirrors, which Blair was staring at, disappointed that she couldn’t see her reflection in them.
There was no one on the seventy second story and ther was only one door, at the end of a gleaming hardwood hallway. My black boots clomped awkwardly as I escorted the driver–still in a bright orange shirt with a barking dog and a slice of pizza on it–and Cara–still in an orange jumpsuit–towards the door at the end.
Once I got there, I tapped my card, and we were in.
I don’t really have good words to describe the place. Huge, for one. Empty for another. Those were the two big ones. I could have gawked at it all, but I was a little tired of gawking, so I filed away ‘tour my house and get it fitted out’ for later. Besides, I had all my gear and shit still in my car… somewhere. I’d get it up here eventually and then the real decorating could start.
But there was a first step. Well two first steps. Okay, technically only one could be the first step, so we’ll do that first.
I waved Cara to join me in one of the bedrooms.
“I’ll finish your interview in like, fifteen minutes,” I said to the driver. She nodded.
“Okay,” I said, closing the door behind me and plopping down on the ground.
Cara stood awkwardly, eyeing the big ass empty room with a big ass empty bathroom off to the side. “Okay,” she said, still standing. “Do I need to–”
“No no, I said I would…” I trailed off, lips pursed and confused. “You wanted… Or… I was gonna tell you–”
“Oh shit yeah.” Now suddenly Cara was on the floor across from me, leaning in. “You’re telling me what the fuck is going on.”
My breath rushed out in a long woosh as I contemplated how to start this. Joni had made a snarky comment at one point like ‘pushing this off won’t make it easier’ and I’d responded with a ‘I’ll come up with a plan while I delay’ which of course I hadn’t, and now I was angry cause Joni was right.
“So the problem is,” I said, starting slowly. “Everything I tell you, you’ll believe.”
“Obviously,” Cara said, believing me instantly.
“But no one else but me knows what’s going on. So I can’t help but…” I trailed off again, noticing Cara nodding animatedly. This wasn’t working. I wanted her to believe me cause she fully understood and accepted my story, not cause of magic. But to get that, I couldn’t be the one to tell her, and the only other people who knew about my godliness were the ghosts and–
I smacked myself on the face. Sammi, you’re a genius. An actual, mensa accredited whiz kid.
“Blair,” I said, smiling. “I think I’ll offload this to you.”
Blair frowned, scrunching her nose up for a moment, before pointing at herself. “Me?”
I nodded confidently. Blair knew everything but lacked the Verity Tongue. This would be a sinch.
“Cara, how do you feel about a little ghost story?” I shivered a bit, getting goosebumps at my own words. Now that lead-in was brilliant. ‘A little ghost story’, who came up with that? I was getting smarter by the minute.
“Oooooooooooooh.” Blair zoomed around the room, and Cara leapt to her feet.
“What the fuck?”
“Bewaaaaare moooooortal,” Blair droned, pitching her voice low. “For the story you’re about to hear is both dreadful and awwwwwful. Fear for your soul for those who hear this story are cursed and will find themselves in an early–”
“Blair!” I shouted. “Stop that. What the fuck? Literally not like that. Like literally anything but that. You need to start with–”
“Yo, Sammi, dawg, chill.” Christopher patted my back. “We’ll help her out.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to taint the story with your god powers,” Joni said. “We’ll sort Blair. You interview the pizza waitress.”
Suddenly my genius felt like the opposite of genius. Yeah, delegation was important, but I did want to hear what the ghosts were telling Cara. Didn’t I need to know? What if they told her something totally wrong and stupid? Or what if they said something mean? Like what if they really played up the part about my reckless speeding? What if they lied about something? Made me look incompetent.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Christopher just gave me an icy pat again.
“Look, you’re gonna jump in to correct something we say, and it’s just gonna fuck up Cara.” He gave me a serious look, one of the most serious looks he’d given me since this whole ordeal. Which was honestly kinda stupid cause of all the times to pull out there ‘seriously, Sammi’ face, he was picking now? Was this really the right time for this? “Seriously, Sammi. We got this.”
I didn’t believe him at all, but they were absolutely right about me likely fucking this up with my motor mouth. No way was I sitting still while Joni made snarky comments about me, like, eating gross bagels or telling cops to steal poop.
“All right,” I said. “Come out when you’re done. Or if you need hands at all. Like if she passes out and you need to check for a pulse.”
“Are you talking to me?” Cara said.
“No. I’m talking to the ghosts.” And with that I closed the door.
Looks like Sammi's got a house! And maybe a minion or two on top of her familiars. Let's see how Cara takes all of this...

Yelena watched the doorway through which the young Ashfield scion had just left for a few moments more as she pondered over the meeting they’d just had.
Precocious indeed, she thought with a smile.
A smile that only grew as her gaze flitted over to her childhood friend’s… complicated expression.
It seemed young William’s decision had come as much a surprise to his instructor as it had come to Yelena herself.
“He said no,” Joana said after a few moments.
Yelena nodded slowly as she reclined into her friend’s surprisingly comfortable chair. Given what she knew of Griffith, the Queen had half expected the thing to be harder than mithril when she first sat down - but it was surprisingly plush.
“Not without good reason,” Yelena said as she shifted about.
“Good reason?” Joana scoffed. “You offered him your daughter’s hand.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You offered all of your daughter’s hands.”
Yelena rolled her eyes at her friend’s tone. “And if he’d accepted I would have considered it a bargain.”
A minor scandal and the loss of a number of future marriage alliances was ultimately nothing compared to the ability to raid Kraken nests. And that was ignoring that a hypothetical means to slay kraken in deep water would undoubtedly have other applications.
Applications that would be incredibly useful in the months to come.
Though, perhaps, if young William’s plans came to fruition that coming storm could be delayed by a few years.
“…Are things truly that desperate?” Joana asked quietly.
“They’re not great,” Yelena admitted, massaging the bridge of her nose. “The Blackstones… I knew they’d resist the reforms, but to threaten open rebellion?”
She’d not expected that. Not even in her wildest dreams. Lindholm’s only human ducal house had ever been wilful, and their antipathy towards the Orcs who dwelled in the Sunlands was well documented, but surely even they could see why Yelena was doing what she was.
Regardless of what her critics said, her decision to end the slave trade in Lindholm was most assuredly not the result of ‘useless sentiment’.
Far from it.
Oh certainly, Yelena had no love for the institution of slavery, for reasons both moral and financial, but that wasn’t why she’d created the abolitionist movement.
With each passing year, the Homeland’s view of Lindholm grew ever more covetous. More and more the Sun Empress and Desert Khan’s rhetoric centred less on their ongoing deadlock with each other and more on the idea of ‘recovering wayward territories’.
Certainly, that could have been a reference to Old Growth as much as Lindholm, but Yelena doubted it.
Lindholm might have scared the Solites and Lunites into retreating by choosing to engage them over deep water, but ultimately those victories were borne of a lack of conviction on the part of her foes.
Had the two disparate fleets been willing to risk the permanent loss of a small portion of their mithril cores in order to achieve victory and push towards the mainland, they may well have been able to flip the allegiances of a number of Lindholmian houses.
Oh, certainly, the high elves and dark elves of Lindholm might have prided themselves on maintaining the strictures of equality that defined the Old Empire – but with either Solite or Lunite airships hovering over their family castles, she couldn’t help but wonder if some might reconsider their stances on their fellow elves.
No, while an invasion of Lindholm would certainly be costly, it was entirely within the realm of reason.
An invasion of the Old Growth however?
There was a reason the Wood Elves – as they named themselves – had managed to remain independent of both the other two, much larger, nations despite sharing land borders with both of them.
Their strange magics might have been muted and weak beyond the borders of their home, but within their territory they were nigh invincible.
No, if there was to be any ‘reclamation’ of any territory belonging to the old Aelven Imperium, it was likely to come from Lindholm.
To that end, the kingdom could ill afford to keep feeding people and iron into the meatgrinder that was the Sunlands. Could ill afford to keep orcs that might otherwise be valuable mages laboring in the fields under the eyes of watchful taskmasters.
Lindholm needed every mage-knight it could get – regardless of the color of their skin or the shape of their ears.
Yet after year and years of negotiations and attempts to shift public opinion on the matter, the North still remained willfully ignorant of that truth.
“Surely they know that even if they win, any kind of division between us will just see the Homeland sweep over them?” Joana said.
Yelena shrugged. “I have a feeling that Duchess Blackstone’s victories over both the Lunites and Solites has left her confident of repeating the fact should it come to that.”
Foolhardy, in her eyes, but no one had ever accused the Blackstones of being meek. Nor being incapable of backing up their sometimes insane claims. What other House could lay claim to an ancestry that had once beaten back the Old Imperium at the height of its power?
Where other human nobles had been sworn into the Old Imperium on their knees with their battered armies scattered to the winds, the Blackstones managed to resist long and hard enough that the Imperial Legions had been forced to come to the negotiating table.
Ultimately, the Blackstones had still been absorbed into the Empire, but they’d done so on their terms with their heads unbowed.
…Though it was somewhat ironic that nearly a thousand years on, it was now those same humans in the position of the old Imperial Legion while it was the free orcs who now utilized the same strategies as the old Blackstone tribes – right down to the Wyvern riders.
“I could imagine that,” Joana muttered.
“Is it strange that I think she might pull it off?” Yelena said – though only because she was sure that no one beyond her friend and silent guards was listening.
“Part of me wants to argue that, but… do you think it’s a human thing?”
Yelena thought about the Blackstones and the young man who’d just turned down a chance to be king one day.
“Perhaps,” she admitted.
Personally she thought it was because humans didn’t live as long – and there was more of them. When your life could be measured in but a single century, perhaps you were a bit more inclined towards taking risks that might make an elf balk?
…Risks like trying to take your first year team up against a third year team in the name of trying to avoid a war.
Or at least delay it.
“I still can’t believe he said no to your offer,” Joana said, something… complicated in her friend’s expression.
Yelena grinned at the sight, though she wrestled down the urge to ask a number of probing questions of her normally straight laced friend, who seemed to have a childish crush on a young man nearly ten years her junior – and her student beside.
Normally she’d be all over a scandal that delicious.
Alas, right now was work time. “I can. He gave me his reasons and they were solid.”
Well, solid enough. If you squinted a bit. And tried to think ‘human’.
Rather than all-but guarantee a war by having the Crown break off his betrothal, he intended to do it himself.
Loudly and publicly.
And if he won – and that was a big if – he’d all but destroy any kind of excuse the Blackstones might have to declare war in response. Indeed, by being ‘shamed’ in such a public manner they’d need to spend a few years at least regathering lost support.
After all, who would want to follow a house into a civil war just after their heir was publicly humiliated by a team of cadets two years her junior?
Academy fights weren’t just schoolyard squabbles. They were civil conflicts writ small. A microcosm of the constant jostling and jockeying of Lindholm’s houses.
In other words, they held weight.
If Willaim could beat his fiancée, Yelena knew she’d owe him more than she could ever truly repay. A few more years of preparation would turn an almost guaranteed defeat into something much more even.
Especially if she could scoop up who knows how many mithril cores that were otherwise just littering the ocean. Ninety percent of them would be of limited use immediately, but a few years would give her time to construct at least a few more airship hulls to house the devices.
All that was required was for William to win.
“Solid,” Joana scoffed. “His plan is to go up against a group of third years with a team of firsties.”
Yelena tried to keep the intensity she was feeling out of her tone as she leaned forward. “You don’t think he can do it?”
Joana opened her mouth before hesitating. “I… normally I’d say no. Talented as they are, the gap in experience is just too wide.”
“But…”
The dark elf rolled her silver eyes behind her glasses. “But, with William’s newest invention…” The woman paused. “Son of a bitch.”
For just a moment Yelena was treated to the rare sight of her friend laughing. “I can’t believe I thought he ‘just wanted to use it in a schoolyard fight’,” the Instructor said.
“Well, he sort of is, in a way.” Yelena shrugged. “It just so happens to be a very important schoolyard fight.”
Joana laughed. “I suppose it is.”
“Still, do you think he can win?”
Joana straightened up. “I genuinely don’t know. With his new invention he might be able to catch her off guard. If he can skew the numbers in his favor at the start, they might have a chance.”
Yelena frowned. Not exactly the ringing endorsement she wanted to hear, but that was part of why she valued Joana’s friendship.
Always had really, even when the girl had first come to court at the age of ten as a potential playmate for Yelena’s daughters and told her that her dress made her look like some kind of tropical bird.
Something Yelena realized upon closer inspection was true.
Ever since, the Queen had made a point of checking in with the girl from time to time, if only for the occasional shot of unvarnished truth.
It was a strange ‘friendship’ from the outside looking in, but one that got less so as time went by and the age gap became less stark.
“Well, let’s hope the human capacity for the nigh impossible isn’t relegated entirely to the Blackstones,” Yelena muttered.
Because if it wasn’t, the boy would either have to marry one of Yelena’s daughters or die.
She could not afford the knowledge in his head to reach the Blackstones. To that end, he’d either accept her offer – rolling the dice on the onset of war and all that might come with it – or he’d suffer an accident.
As much as it pained the royal sovereign’s heart to see such a bright and enterprising soul be snuffed out before its time.
Being forced to make such decisions was simply the price of wearing the crown.
“Still,” Joana said, and Yelena was grateful for the distraction as she looked up. “Will you actually leave him alone if he pulls this off?”
Yelena scoffed.
“Of course not. If anything I’ll up my offer.” She shrugged. “I’ll give him you, myself and half my court if it means getting my hands on what’s in his head.”
It was actually a little amusing how Joana flushed at her words, even as she shook her head.
“Yes, that sounds a lot more like you.”
Yelena nodded. Damn right it did.
Though as she did, a thought occurred to her. “Hey Joana?”
“Yes?”
“In your reports to me, didn’t you mention the Ashfield boy having some kind of nickname.”
The dark elf pondered the words for a moment before stiffening. “Hmm, he does actually. A rather apt one considering. Apt enough that I’m wondering if whatever he used to kill Al’Hundra is related.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”
Joana leaned back, her head craned upwards, as if seeking strength from above.
“Kraken Slayer.”
Yelena laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“Of course it is.”
“You killed Al’Hundra.”
William was still reeling a little from the conversation he’d just had, so he was actually a little caught off guard by a finger being shoved into his face the moment he stepped back into his teams quarters.
Ah, he thought. I promised answers.
Though it seemed that in his absence his team had managed to figure out some of those answers without him.
Glancing past Olzenya’s outstretched arm, he saw Marline shaking her head – as if to vehemently deny she’d told them anything.
She needn’t have bothered, her geass precluded it as an option. Hell, even once everyone found out it would preclude it as an option.
Which was for the best for the moment because now he wasn’t so much trying to hide what he’d done as how he’d done it. Admittedly, Marline didn’t know anything beyond the broadest details, but she knew enough to know that it was some kind of enchantment combined with alchemy.
Now it was possible the forces working against him – or rather simply to profit off him – had already figured that out and he’d hear the alchemy lab exploded any moment now, but he’d sooner put it off for as long as he could.
To that end, he turned to Olzenya – though not before politely lowering her pointing arm.
Something that, to her credit, the high elf allowed – actually looking a little embarrassed by her outburst and thus rudeness.
“Honestly, I was expecting something like that to come from Bonnlyn, not you,” he said to the slightly flushed high elf.
As he glanced over toward where the dwarf was sitting, she shrugged. “I realize I may not be the most classically polite individual around, but I’ve been a merchant long enough to recognize when someone’s got a trade secret they want to keep close to their chests.”
If anything, Olzenya flushed harder, as while she might not have been familiar with trade secrets, she was most definitely familiar with the notion of house spells that needed to be kept secret.
“I also thought ambushing him at the door was a little rude,” Verity murmured from the back of the room.
Olzenya coughed, before backing up. “Of course, I apologize for that William.”
More bemused than anything else, especially as the elf curtsied, he waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Or, understandable, I guess.”
“Good,” Ozlenya smiled, glad for his acceptance… before she shouted again. “Because you lied to us.”
“I did?”
“He didn’t,” Marline said. “He said he had something to bet against Tala.”
Indeed he had, something he’d kept hidden under a sheet. After all, he’d not wanted his big surprise to be spoiled by the rumors of his coming beating him to the cafeteria.
And they would.
Rumors in the academy somehow managed to move at light speed.
“He implied it was gold,” Olzenya shot back.
“And you said Tala wouldn’t go for it, but you came with us anyway,” Bonnlyn said.
Indeed, he had implied it was gold. Or ‘something valuable enough to catch her interest’.
“To comfort him after she shot him down,” Olzenya said. “Instead I damn near tripped over my own feet in front of everyone when he pulled an honest to goddess mithril core out of his ass.”
William was actually a little thrown off – and amused – by the sudden display of crassness from the noble girl.
“But he didn’t lie.” It was actually a little surprising – and heartwarming – to hear Verity speaking so forcefully.
And that Olzenya didn’t immediately snap at her for doing so. The team really had come a long way in just a few months.
Ah, the joys of shared suffering, William thought as he watched the girls bicker amongst themselves.
“As I’m sure you’ve all guessed, I have indeed been less than open about a few things,” he said, silencing all of them – except Marline who’d yet to speak in the first place. “With that said, I’ve never once lied to you about my end goal.”
“Breaking off your betrothal,” Marline said finally.
“Breaking off my betrothal without starting a war,” he said. “If it were that easy, the Queen would have done it for me just now.”
“You met the Queen?” Olzenya sounded a little faint.
“I did.”
Oh, how he did.
“Oh ancestors, please don’t tell me you hit on the queen!?” This time Marline sounded a little faint.
And he actually felt a little offended. “What!? Why would you think that.”
“You’re doing the same thing you do when we talk about Instructor Griffith,” Bonnlyn said with studiously neutral voice. “Or Instructor Morline. Or Instructor Flen. Or some of the guards.”
“Or that one cafeteria lady,” Verity chimed in, a little red in the face.
“Or the-”
“I do not!” He’d finally had enough of these aspersion on his character.
Across the room, a number of sighs rang out, even from the elves.
“At least now I knew why he never checked me out,” Bonnlyn said. “He’s got mommy issues. And I’m not old enough to tickle them.”
“Still, the Queen?” Olzenya hissed.
“I mean, have you seen her?” Marline muttered back. “I mean, I don’t agree with him… but I get it.”
“I didn’t ‘perv’ on the Queen.” Some part of him died on using such childish language. “We had a meeting about my plans and… what occurred with Al’Hundra. Needless to say, the fact that I’m here means she’s agreed to go ahead with them and I’m also to keep quiet about anything I may or may not have had to do with any Kraken going missing. Or their cores.”
He deliberately left out the royal marriage offer.
Still, with those words the room went silent. After all, if the Queen had told him to say nothing, he was expected to say nothing. Just because the North in general didn’t have much respect for royal authority didn’t mean the rest of the kingdom did.
Quite the opposite.
“Well, if the Queen has commanded you to remain silent, I suppose there’s nothing to be done,” Olzenya muttered. “Though I would like answers some day.”
“Hell, I’d like to know why you brought Marline in on your plans,” Bonnlyn said, glancing at the Dark Elf. “You know, and not the rest of us.”
There was no missing the hint of hurt there – which he understood.
“I can promise you it was purely a matter of convenient circumstance,” he said. “And I can promise you, I didn’t confide in Marline for free.”
All the girls glanced up as the dark elf nodded slowly. “He’s not lying – though I can’t say anymore. Literally. It’s a price I paid willingly, but one I doubt any of you would be interested in.”
Almost as one, he could see the lightbulbs turn on in everyone’s brain simultaneously – except for Verity, who took a few seconds.
‘Geass,’ thought none of them said it.
This time though, when the girls looked between him and Marline, there was a definite sense of wariness to it.
“Well, I suppose there’s nothing else to say then,” Bonnyln said. “I guess we should…”
“…Go to bed,” Olzenya nodded warily.
William grinned. “Good idea. Big day tomorrow and all that.”
That was an understatement, and he could tell everyone was thinking it as they made their way over to their rooms.
Still, it was true all the same.
They’d need their rest if they wanted to stand a chance tomorrow.
Indeed, they’d need every advantage they could get.
To that end, William could only hope he’d stacked the deck in their favor enough to matter.
…It took him a long time to get to sleep.
When he did awake, in the early hours of the morning, it was to the sound of an explosion.
In the direction of the old alchemy labs if I’m not wrong, he thought with a grim smile.
It seemed someone had decided to investigate his storage room even sooner than he’d anticipated.
Annoying, but it hardly mattered at this point in time.
All that really mattered was going back to sleep.
He had a big day ahead of him, after all.
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Another three chapters are also available on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bluefishcake
We also have a (surprisingly) active Discord where and I and a few other authors like to hang out: https://discord.gg/RctHFucHaq

This is what I posted on the board game community in Korea, and I'm also translating and posting it on Reddit!
The translation and text inspection took a long time, but I'm posting it because I think croquinol gamers from other countries will enjoy reading it.
(I don't know how to put pictures in between when writing on Reddit. If you're curious about pictures while reading, please visit the link below. You may not understand Korean, but pictures are visual information so they can be understood universally)
https://boardlife.co.kbbs_detail.php?tb=community_post&bbs_num=26766
Not long ago in early May, I ran a croquinol booth for students and parents at a Children's Day event (it was held on the grounds of the University of Education)
The head of the school affairs department suggested, "I heard you like board games, do you want to run a booth?" so I thought very hard. Actually, it was bothersome.
In the end, I accepted because I wanted to make good memories with children as well as selling croquinol. At first, I thought it was easy to take a few croquinols and play a few rounds.
It wasn't long before I realized that the idea was very wrong. This is because there were so many things to consider operating the booth. The program should be organized in consideration of the number of users and the number of people visiting.
The arrangement of objects and the movement of people should also be considered. I shouldn't think, 'I'm done explaining the game to the students in moderation and watching them play.'
I have to think about the details. I thought about it until the day of operation and right before it started. Now that it's been decided so far, I'll have to recruit staff to run it together (this was the most difficult problem)
Finally, find out the products to give to the visiting children and purchase them, purchase notices to be installed in the booth, and other things necessary to proceed or make them
For two weeks, I spent a lot of time and energy thinking about and preparing for how to operate the booth. I thought a lot about what to give as the prize, but it was finally decided to go down
(1) Pokémon Key Chain Pokémon is definitely a successful IP!!
I decided it right away because it looked so pretty and the quality looked good. There were some that were really cheap, but the quality was really... It was a pity, so I put in more budget
(2) ritter sport chocolate It's economical because there are 200 in a pack I tried one to see if it's poisonous What????? This chocolate tastes pretty good...
(3) Crockinol Pencil (Steadler + Engrave) Originally, I didn't want to give pencils, but if I imprint them and give them to students, I thought they could remember croquinol for quite some time, so I made it meaningful.
If you look closely at the pencil, you can see the image of a disc bouncing with a finger. (○ ● ☜) I made it using the basic characters on the keyboard. Haha.)
It took a long time to think of the word 'dream tree' in the engraved phrase. (Offered words: rookie, genius, child, master, king, god, etc.) Since there are no other people to help me, I planned and produced a lot of things by myself.... lol
I recruited the operating personnel as follows
Head of the school affairs department -> Recruit me (one-person planner and business manager): Let's compare and analyze croquinol sales and rest at home and then experience it. Decided
Me-> First cast (S teacher): A versatile teacher who has been in the next class since we met in the 6th grade this year He became interested after being introduced to Crockinol by me. Enjoying Crockinol at home with his wife. Canadian style. (He said he was doing it without giving it away.) After receiving a proposal from me, "I'll do all the preparations, so please come and let the children know the games without any burden," he decided to participate after much consideration. I'm playing with my kids in the classroom, and my croquinol skills are increasing rapidly. I'm planning to promote the entire 6th grade croquinol competition later.
Second cast (Teacher C): My younger brother who met as a manager and a staff member at my last school and became very close. The same person who said in an old article that he helped move the classroom!
Together, we played about 400 rounds of croquinol 1:1 match. He made a lot of mistakes in his early days, but after hundreds of editions, he became enlightened at some point. He has become quite a master.
His powerful shots made a lot of crazy scenes. Among them, he sent five discs of his opponent to a ditch at the same time. When he was asked by me to help him, he accepted without hesitation. (He is expected to participate in the next event.)
Third cast (Teacher K): I am a teacher from another region, and I am close to him because I got to know him in a club. She was the last to be recruited, and she suggested liter port chocolate and keychain among the product ideas. Pencils were also highly recommended when I was thinking about it.
Lastly, he volunteered after seeing me thinking about recruiting one more person.
She's the only teacher who doesn't have a croquinol, and she doesn't usually have a chance to train, so she's still a beginner's skill.
Rather, a person who is expected to revitalize the booth operation because of that. (If teachers do too well, all students lose.) For the record, she has a board gamer gene that can also play Arcnova board games.
※ In addition, there is a sad history of rejection and subtly falling over during the recruitment process.
And I started setting it up on the day!! Visit early with teacher C and install one croquinol on three tables in the tent
At first, I was worried because the table was in the shape of a rectangle, but I could put things here and there. If you put the croquinol at an angle on the table, it was possible to conduct a 2:2 team, so there was no problem.
After I finished setting up, I sat down for a bit and tried a croquinol test. Played without any problems. The shot was even better because I told them to cut their nails, including myself.
However, there was a lot of dust on the tables and chairs provided by the company, so I hurriedly cleaned them. The remaining two operators also narrowly joined, and a total of four people were matched.
After that, I had time to start operating the booth as a whole They're here...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The name of the booth was 'Gather up here if you're confident in flicking', but I think I drew some aggro. Other places looked healthy like making animal bracelets, but our booth was like, "You! Come if you're confident!"
The booth was originally planned like this Planning the rules of the game: - If you feel uncomfortable, you can stand and shoot freely - In the case of 1:1, the original use of the 1/4 shooting line based on North America and Canada, rather than the use of the 1/2 shooting line that changed the rules in Korean company Korea Board Games. - A student who is too young is forced to shoot with a line forward. Two places are experience seats and listen to and experience the rules 1:1 or 2:2 (Parents and friends can participate together) - The experience gift is one litre pot chocolate - Rule Description -> Shot Practice -> consists of a two-game friendly
If you have learned the rules through the experience, go to the challenge seat of one place and challenge 1:1 or 2:2 (you can also participate together) - If you win, you'll get a Pokémon keychain, even if you lose, you'll get a 1/3 chance of a keychain and a 2/3 chance of a pencil through a lottery - Using one chance card, we will proceed with two sets, and if the student draws or wins even one set, it will be considered a victory. - Re-challenge possible when you line up again The booth gradually gathered and filled the corner, and the line got longer
I repeated the explanation and game so wildly!
The first episode : Even though it was in the shade of the tent, the temperature was high, so the chocolate melted. The student said it melted, so I touched it and it was liquid! Unfortunately, we can't give these defective products to students, so we decided to go to the challenge seat without giving them away in the experience seat.
The second episode : Our classmates are here! I heard a voice saying, "Teacher!" and I can see the 6th grade girls in my class
Of course, we played the game. I tried to lose, but I thought that if I lost too much, the student would notice, so I made mistakes from time to time, but these guys made more mistakes!
It ended with me winning or drawing (I should have made it more clear and lost... lol) I said, "This is just an experience seat, so it doesn't matter, show your real skills in the challenge seat," and sent the girl to another corner
The third episode : People were buzzing that a very famous politician visited the booth next door. (He was Korea's presidential candidate.) I looked up and saw the face that I saw on screen Although I was curious, I had my day job as a board gamer, so I welcomed students and focused on explaining the rules. Later, I found out that he talked to a student who experienced our booth and passed by
The 4th episode : The booth operators were not given a separate lunch break! It was announced that they would take turns eating lunch boxes. There were quite a few people... and I barely had time to eat. One person will be in charge of one booth, and one person will take turns eating I'm the type to eat slowly while tasting the taste, but I didn't have much time to relax on this day, so I sat on the stand and came back in a hurry that I couldn't even feel the taste
The fifth episode : There are so many people, and especially in the case of the challenge seat, the waiting line is longer, so to solve the bottleneck, we decided to take both the place and challenge as an experience seat It was the same with the booth I was in. I don't know what this day is... I made more mistakes than usual and often missed shots because I was nervous dealing with children. Hahaha
The 6th episode : The operations staff at the next table said, "A kid came up with a challenge and beat me." He got the prize, of course But after that, the student was still in the viewing room and gave advice to other participating children, saying, "I win all of them," showing a lot of confidence Then the child triumphantly challenged the management staff again! He must have wanted to win again. What was the result? According to him, he showed the dignity of an adult with his skills to children Of course, he gave away a croquinol pencil this time!!
The 7th episode : I explained the rules so much that the script was automatically made "This game is a 150-year-old game of Canada known to have started in 1876.... "In Canada, it's a daily sport that many families have and play throughout their lives, from childhood to grandmothers and grandparents. The rules are simple: if you put it in here, it's 20 points, this is 15 points....." I can't remember how many times I repeated the script above! The eighth episode : There are people who waited for an hour to listen to it while organizing it I've already experienced it and moved to the challenge seat, but the challenge seat lines are too long... Did they feel like they were waiting for a long line in the amusement park... ㅠㅠ Parents were tired of waiting, so they asked to go to another booth, but the child said, "Since I've experienced it, I really want to try it. I want to take a Pokémon keychain!" and waited a lot. It must have been very boring for parents, but there was no other way. I thought the quality of the operation would be very low to just experience/challenge one game at a time 2 play experience + 2 play challenge was the minimum number of plays to feel a little croquinol
The ninth episode : After eating, I heard parents and children talking "This is where we play Alkagi(flicking). Shall we play Alkagi?" "Let's do it!"
If you had written the booth title, "Who wants to play croquinol?" no one would know croquinol, so accessibility would have been low But when the title said "Alkkagi", I was proud of him coming in without any pressure
The 10th episode : The official closing time of the booth was 4 p.m At around 3:50 p.m., I took a breath and looked at other places, and some places had already withdrawn, and I was usually cleaning up, so the atmosphere was clear But our booth is still full It lasted beyond hours Is this the power of crocinol?
The 11th episode : Time has been deleted I was worried about what if time went by during that long time of operating the booth, but it was a mistake. We were so busy explaining and playing that we didn't have time to look at the clock, and when we came to our senses, it was a time when the end was imminent. I couldn't even go to the bathroom for five hours. Because it was hectic, the operation ended without a comparative analysis of 'Are many people visiting other booths? How popular is our booth?' (When I saw the photos and videos later, I could see that our booth was more crowded than other booths.)
The 12th episode : I tried a lot to react to it in my own way. I really complimented the kid every time he hit the disc. I exaggerated a little bit like I became a YouTuber and shouted a compliment chant out loud A young girl who looked like elementary 1 or 2 sat down (around 7-8 years old) I finished explaining the rules, and asked her to practice shooting a few times. After that, we started playing the game. The girl said she would do it first, and she took the first shot of her life's first game. It went straight into the center hole. There was applause from all around. I said, "Even I couldn't put it in at first. It's amazing." Congratulations on your best experience." She's made a lot of mistakes in play since then, but it doesn't matter at all! There's nothing more touching than the first shot of 20 The parents who were nearby filmed this scene and will cherish this meaningful moment for a long time
The 13th episode : There seemed to be something interesting to see other crocinol tables also clapping, wow, oh, oh From the perspective of planning, all these reactions are a gift
The 14th episode : There were a lot of spectators while explaining/playing There were a lot of comments about the rules of the game "You have to hit the disc when it's on the surface" "Oh!" A male parent was glad to hear that he knew croquinol "I knew this game since it came out last year. It was about 110 dollars, but I didn't buy it because it was expensive." (It's more expensive now. It's about $140)
The 15th episode : We allowed a re-challenge in the 'Beat the Teacher' section, caressing the hearts of children thirsty for crocinol Some students tried again 3 times (The challenge itself takes about 1 minute and 30 seconds for the first round, 3 minutes in total, so it doesn't take much.)
The 16th episode : After 4 p.m., I looked at the other booth thinking about when to organize it, and a boy who looked like a fourth grade in the challenge seat was doing very well Her parents were also amazed by it The accuracy of each step wasn't unusual He said he came back to try it out and do it again Looking at the game, he unfortunately lost to Teacher S by 5 points when he made a mistake of 2 turns in the second half Teacher S told the student. " Try it with that teacher. He's the best While sitting down, I asked, "Do you want me to do it with all my strength or not?" I laughed and asked At first, the student said, "Please be generous!" but later changed his words to "With full strength." "Haha, okay. I'll go with all my strength!" The student said he would attack first and tried an open shot and went straight into the center hole "Wow... does this make sense?" I also chased along the disc in the center hole. That's how I tried to hit my opponent's disc in Hogan's alley and accidentally wasted three turns. The result is that the student who leads by 15 points wins... The child liked it very much and came home with a light step with his parents "Thank you for your hard work. Bye!" When I looked at the playground with the back of my family leaving after saying hello, the sun was slowly heading down, scattering light everywhere and giving the lawn a cozy view What could be a more peaceful landscape. He must have felt really good on his way home. I thought he lost well
Finish writing : When I was in college, I ran a different kind of booth when I was the president of a club, but it was the first time I ran it this way in relation to board games.
At that time, there were a lot of club members and the space was very spacious, so the event was held comfortably, but the croquinol booth was operated in a very minimal condition: 1 tent, 3 tables, 3 croquinols, and 4 people in operation
Still, it ended successfully as it exceeded the time without an accident, so considering that it is the first operation under this condition, it should be considered a great success.
The operation of this croquinol booth was planned by myself and prepared for the program, so I have a lot of attachment.
I'm grateful to the three people who ran it together (they were dispatched from each elementary school publicly and privately). As expected, people are the most important.
I'm willing to do it again if I have to participate in the booth event another month this year or if I have to run it again next year. I think we can do it in a better way than now
For example, I dream of running a mini-contest by installing more tables. There's a mini trophy, and I think the kid who got it will really like it. (Of course we need a lot more people than we do now...!)

Hi all,
I know it’s a long shot but did anyone witness a minor car accident at approx. 4:45pm on 10 May at the intersection of Mont Albert Road and Union Road?
Unfortunate situation where the other driver has decided to be a knob and decide they aren’t at fault after admitting they were at the time and I don’t have any witnesses.
Thanks in advance!

I am in the state of Missouri.
My (37F) unoccupied vehicle Black, mid size SUV) was parked in a sport club parking lot on Saturday morning while I was at practice. When my practice was finished, I got in my car and drove home.
Later that day, a friend pointed out damage to my driver side tail light. I was certain it had not been there before Saturday.
I reached out to the club (at which I am a member) where my vehicle was parked, knowing they had recently installed security cameras. By late Saturday night, they reviewed the footage, and communicated that one camera caught the accident and aftermath (further from my vehicle), and one caught the audio of the accident and aftermath (nearer to my vehicle). There were multiple witnesses, and a clear shot of the license plate of the vehicle that hit me. I provided my email address so that he could share the footage with me.
On Sunday morning, upon further inspection to my car, I discovered damage to my bumper on the driver side, a decent-sized white scrape through my paint. I reviewed the footage myself, and the location and color of the scrape are consistent with the mechanism of the accident and color of the vehicle that hit me.
The footage captures me in the parking lot as well (everything is time stamped on the video). The parking lot was chaotic due to an unrelated event in the park. I stood in the parking lot for a few minutes before approaching my car to leave. Many other adults with whom I train can also be seen/heard in the parking lot footage. People were turning their cars around at the end on the lot past where my car was parked because the lot was full.
Long after I had left, two people (who I now know as the driver’s mother and brother) appear at the location. They have a conversation with the driver of the car that hit me. She had been sitting in her car in the lot, waiting for them to arrive.
On Sunday afternoon, I filed a police report in person with the municipality in which my vehicle was hit. I explained that I thought the driver of the car was young, the parking lot was chaotic, and at that time, I wasn’t interested in pressing charges. I simply wanted them to take responsibility for the accident and provide their insurance information to me.
The responding officer was able to make contact with the owner of the car. His 16-year-old daughter was driving at the time of the accident and admitted fault. The officer provided the owner’s phone number to me.
I reached out to the owner. Our conversation was brief. I asked for the insurance information. He replied that he’d rather pay for the repair directly because his daughter is a new driver and only 16 and he doesn’t want their insurance rate to go up. He asked if I was willing to do that. I was hesitant but understood, so I said, “Okay,” and agreed to call after I had an estimate for the repair.
After that call, I felt uneasy. I followed up via email with the responding officer for the police report. I emailed him the footage, and let him know that the owner refused to provide his insurance information. I also emailed the club to make sure they saved the footage in case it’s needed at a later date (they did).
The officer called me again not long after I emailed him and gave me the owner’s insurance policy number. I felt a bit better knowing that I have it just in case the situation got hairy.
His wife called me later Sunday evening. She was very nice and we spoke for 10 minutes. It became clear to me that they were under the impression that only my tail light was damaged. Her daughter said that her passenger mirror hit my car. I explained that I didn’t think that caused my damaged tail light, and that I thought she cut her turn short in a tight spot and wedged her vehicle up against mine which in turn put upward pressure on my tail light which caused it to break, and that there is also damage to my bumper. I explained that this was the damage I could see, and there could be more (my car is a 2019 SUV with cameras and sensors that I bought new).
I told her I would get an estimate this week and send it their way. She texted me her email address.
Monday I called our insurance agent to inform him of the accident and seek his advice. He encouraged me to file a claim, and advised how best to move forward if I did not make a claim.
Yesterday (Tuesday), I got the estimate for the repairs. It’s ~$2700, and the shop made it clear to me that it is not unusual to find more damage after disassembly. At the time of the repair, the estimate is to be paid up front, and the final balance upon pick up of the vehicle.
I forwarded the estimate to the owner’s wife, and in that email I expressed my preference to go through insurance.
She responded later that evening, and it is now clear to me that we are not on the same page. She doesn’t believe that the damage described in the estimate is consistent with her daughter’s recollection of events. She is asking me to send photos of the damage to my car, and is requesting the video footage from me. I am not inclined to do that, and I think it’s time to file the claim.
The driver did not notify me of the accident at the time of the accident in any way. She sat in her vehicle in a nearby parking spot waiting for her mom.
Is this considered a hit and run? I only know her identity because of the police report that I filed the next day and the footage.
The owner’s daughter is also a member at the club where I practice/train. My practice on Saturday is 8-10 am. Hers 10-12. We have the same coach. I am trying to leave the club out of it aside from accessing the security footage.
Will the insurance company want names of witnesses? I don’t have those, but the club could ask the girls who did witness it (also on footage) to come forward.
I’m just at a loss. I was trying to be nice and understanding and cooperative with their wishes. I thought I’d have the upper hand since I was not notified. Now I’m anxious about the entire situation, haven’t slept all night, and want to protect myself. I’m filing a claim today (Wednesday). How should I respond or do I even respond to her email?

TW: Alcoholism, drug addiction, violence, suicidal ideation, sex abuse
This is going to be a LLLLLOOONNNNGGGGG one. This story goes back quite a way, but yesterday was the tenth anniversary of the ending to this story and I'm feeling it, still got some guilt about everything that happened, wondering what I could have done differently and I just want to vent it out and hope to get some closure from it.
This story started in 2010.
Characters in this story (names are fake, duh!):

• Me, Guy, 32M at the time, 45 now.
• My BFF Stephanie, 33F at the time.
• Stephen, 40M at the time, Stephanie's boyfriend.
• Maryse, 27F at the time.

Background and intro
I had known Stephanie for many years and we had the kind of friendship that made her BFs and my GFs uncomfortable to put it lightly. We had never crossed that boundary and I wouldn't consider us in the friendzone, we were just friend, but the kind of friend where she would sit on my lap with her arms around my neck or her head on my shoulder.
At the start of 2010, Stephanie met her then boyfriend, Stephen. He tolerated me and my friendship with Stephanie because I also had a gf back then. She liked Stephanie, wasn't at all jealous of my friendship with her, so he didn't deem me too suspicious. Then my gf and I broke up for reasons unimportant and all hell broke loose for Stephen. He became convinced that I would try and steal Stephanie from him. He insisted that Stephanie introduce me to her female friends or female friends of his. Thus began what I called the year of the 50 blind dates. It was probably closer to 20, but still I like saying the year of 50 blind dates. Most of them were unremarkable and never went beyond the first date. There are some fun stories in there if anyone wants to hear them eventually!
In July of that year, I had to switch gears because I had to focus up and study for a professional exam for a certification important to my career. This exam required close to 600-800 hours of study over a 3-4 month period. So I hunkered down, told Stephanie to stop the blind dates for now because I had to focus on that. She respected my wishes and, other a text here or there, we went low contact for the last two months before the exam.
Except for one fateful night in September. Her birthday was in September and she always threw these big bashes at her house. She would throw a big pool party that started around noon and would go on to the wee hours of the morning. I knew she would harass me to go to her party, so I made some quick math and figured I would lose more energy and time trying to dodge her calls, texts and most likely visits at my place than by just going to the party itself. So when she called me to ask, I just said: "Okay I'll go to your damn party, now git." I texted her I would get there in the evening probably around 8. She texted back "Great, can't wait. Now study, bitch!"
So I ultimately get there around 8PM. Basically everybody is already drunk off their gourd. Stephanie sees me, squeals in excitement and runs to me in her bikini and just jumps in the air and slams into me, wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist and gives me a big hug. I hug her back and just keep walking back to the pool where she had started, carrying her with me. I just duck my head around hers and say hi to Stephen, who just glares at me.
She drops back down and I give her her gift. We chat for a few seconds and says "There's beer in the fridge and food in the dining room." I told her I'd be right back.
I go inside and grab a beer from the fridge. I head to the dining room and the table is against the wall with a buffet of sandwiches, tomato pizza, salads, etc. I grab a plate and start putting food on it. I was focused on the task because I was starving. I barely noticed, sitting at the end of the table one of the most stunning woman I have ever seen. I just see her in my peripheral vision and I do a quick double take, quick glance at her and back to the food. I do that a second time. And finally a third time. At that point she is just straight up staring at me and I can't help but chuckle and whisper under my breath "Subtle Guy, sub-tle".
Thankfully she starts laughing too, saving me some embarassment. I look at her and greet her. She says "Hi, I'm Maryse and I'm guessing you're Guy?" I just nod and we start talking. At that point, I just thought I have no shot with her, she's so far out of my league that I'm just gonna talk to her until she sees one of the "models" hanging out by the pool and ditches me for him.
So I'm not feeling like I'm playing for anything, so I'm just myself and not nervous, just talking to her as I would any friend. We chat and she laughs at all my jokes, she gets all my cultural references. She never gets up or ditches me. The plate of food I had made and the beer I had gotten are sitting on the table next to me untouched, I was too busy with the convo to think about food or beer anymore.
After what felt like only 20-30 minutes, Stephanie comes in and tells me, fake grumpy: "So that's where you disappeared to. I invite my best friend to a party and he spends the whole night talking to someone else." I laugh and go: "What do you mean the whole night? I haven't been here that long." She says "Dude, it's 2AM. You've been here for 6 hours..." My jaw dropped and I just said: "Wow, time flies when you're having fun." Maryse chimes in, with a big smile: "It sure does!" That made me happy as you can imagine.
Now I was a little stuck because where Stephanie lived, there's no night service for the bus and the subway had been closed for an hour or so. I figured I would cab it. So I turn to Maryse and tell her: "It was absolutely lovely to meet you and I enjoyed our conversation very much." She says that she did too. I continued with "At the moment, my schedule is incredibly hectic. I'm basically working full-time, studying full-time and sleeping part-time. So I don't have a lot of free time, but if she was interested, whatever little free time I had, I would love to call her or text her to keep on getting to know her."
I see Stephanie in the backgroudnd, looking like a proud mama at how smooth that came out, knowing I was always anything but smooth with women, as proven by the string of blind dates! Maryse has a big smile and we exchange numbers. I go to Stephanie to wish her a happy birthday again. While I'm talking to her, my phone buzzes with a text from Maryse: "Just checking!"
I asked Stephanie "What's the best cab company to call in this area?" Maryse chimes in: "Where do you live?" I tell her where I lived and she goes "It's on the way to where I live, I can give you a ride if you want." Stephanie raised an eyebrow in surprise. I learned later, she did it because it absolutely was not on the way to her place, like, at all. I say that I would love that as it would give us a chance to keep talking.
We get in her car, driving to my place. We talk, she asks me what I'm studying as I hadn't mentioned it earlier. I tell her all about the boring maths I had to study. Much too quickly, we get to my place. She parks in front of my building and we keep talking. At some point, I tell her: "Normally, this is where I would try to "trick" you into coming up to my place..." She interrupts me: "You wouldn't need to trick me. I'm willing and able!"
I tell her that "As tempting as that sounds, I know who I am and I know that if you come up and things proceed to where they're going, I'm not going to be able to study for the rest of the month. I have a kind of obsessive mind and when I find someone or something I like, I can push everything else to the side in favor of that. So to make sure I can still focus on my studying, I have to go up by myself."
She looks at me, a little disappointed but then says, half-jokingly: "We don't have to go up, there's a backseat right there!" We laugh and I give her a kiss and wish her a good night. I managed to stay strong and go back to my condo. Damn it, why did I have to stay strong!!!
My exam was at the beginning of november. During the month of october, we texted a bunch of times and talked on the phone. We went for coffee a couple of times and dinner once. She respected my boundaries and never pushed for more, which I appreciated but also hated at the same time, if that makes sense. The exam came and it was a monster of a Friday. I slept for basically 18 hours after the exam as the adrenalin dropped and my system crashed.
I texted her when I woke up at around 1PM. She was working at the clothing store Stephanie owned. She said "I'm off at 5PM, wanna meet me." I said: "Duh! Why do you think I'm texting? ;)" So I met her at the store downtown. I asked if she wanted to grab a drink, go for dinner, or what. She proposed going to her place and getting some take out. Stephanie who was closing the store at that moment, came up to us and said: "Hey, so what are we doing?" I said: "WE, that is Maryse and I, are going to her place and getting some takeout. Bye!" I'm sure you'll understand when I tell you that no food was ever ordered that night!
Thus followed a whirlwind month of November where any free time we had was spent together, and I wasn't going to complain!
The troubles
By the start of december, things were still going great with us. One saturday night, we were having dinner at a restaurant and I mention that this coming Friday is my office Christmas party, that it's employees only, so we wouln't see each other that night. She tells me: "Oh sure, that's fine! It'll give me a chance to go see some girlfriends I've been neglecting lately." I said "Great! BTW I also got us a reservation at [this great restaurant she had mentioned a few times] for next Saturday, so we could go there and I'll tell you all about my party and you can tell me all about her night with the girls!"
That was settled, I thought. I was wrong. On Thursday, we had spent the evening together at her place and I was about to leave to go back to my place. She tells me: "So are you coming to meet me at the store tomorrow or do I go to your place?" I reminded her: "Neither, tomorrow is my office Christmas party and we won't see each other tomorrow." She said: "Oh right, I forgot." I asked her if she had made plans with her friends like she had mentioned last saturday. She said that they were all busy tomorrow and weren't available.
She suggested "If your party is boring, maybe you could come meet me." I retorted that it wasn't going to be, knowing who was going to be there.
"Yeah but what if?"
"But it won't"
"But what IFFFFFF?" she kept insisting and I kept saying no. After what felt like 30 minutes of that (probably only 2-3 minutes in reality), I had enough and just said to end the argument: "Okay, if it's boring, I'll come. but it won't be." She said: "Cool" with a big smile on her face. I came to learn that that smile meant "Challenge accepted".
The following night, my colleague and I were pregaming in a conference room before leaving for the party proper and my phone buzzes. Maryse was wishing me a good party. I replied. She texted me again. I replied. She texted again, but I was in a conversation with a colleague so I didn't reply or even look at the phone. My phone buzzes again. Still talking, and didn't want to be rude to my colleague. Another buzz. I just kept talking. Phone buzzes differently, she was now calling because I hadn't answered her texts.
"Why aren't you replying to my texts?"
"Hey, sorry, was talking to my colleague Patrick."
"What? you don't want to talk to me?"
"I am talking to you now."
"Why didn't you reply to my texts?"
"Because it would have been rude to my colleague to pull my phone out while talking to him."
"But you're talking to me now."
"Because I thought something was wrong, maybe it was an emergency."
"I wanted to talk to you, that's all."
"Well, gotta go back to the party. Talk to you later."
She kept texting and if I didn't reply right away, she would call after two or three missed texts. After about 2 hours of this, I stopped answering the texts. When she called back, I asked her: "Aren't you supposed to be working?" which started another round of guilt-tripping of "why are you asking me this? you don't want to talk to me?" At that point I had had enough and wanted to enjoy my party. I remembered that the Blackberry (no shaming old tech!) I had had an annoying feature, but I was hoping to put it to good use at that moment.
Whenever the battery would get really low, like less than 1%, it would let out an ear-piercing BEEP for about 3 seconds, reminiding you to charge it and giving you a heart attack all at the same time. It would do that even when you were in silent mode. It had happened a few days earlier when I was with Maryse. I figured, if I press a button on the Blackberry, it would make a beep too that could be heard through the phone. So while I was talking to Maryse, I pressed my thumb on the space bar for a good 3 seconds and sputtered; "what... the .... what?" trying to put on a somewhat believable performance.
She asked what that noise was and I tell her that it was my blackberry letting me know I was low battery and it might shut off any second. I told her "Listen I'm gonna wish you a good night, I'm having a good time at my party so I'll see you tomorrow at 5PM to go spend our evening together. I hope you have a good....." and hung up mid-sentence. I promptly shut my phone off and went back to the party. I concede that I may be a bit of an AH for that move.
The party was great, I got drunk much quicker than I expected owing to the fact that I hadn't had a drink in over two months because Maryse didn't drink so I didn't either when we were together, and we were always together. At 1AM, I went home and passed out on my bed.
This is another place where I may have been an AH. I didn't turn my cell phone back on and I unplugged my home line too, because I wanted to sleep the deep sleep of the drunkard. I woke up at around 1:30 PM, not knowing it was already too late. In my mind, I was meeting Maryse at 5PM to go out on the town that night. Maryse had other ideas as you'll see.
So like I said, I woke up at 1:30PM and was sticky with alcohol sweat, so I went straight for the shower to get clean again. While in the shower, my stomach grumbled with hunger and I started daydreaming of bacon and eggs. That pushed me out of the shower right quick. I dried myself off quickly, tied the towel around my waist and went to the fridge. No bacon.... booo. Looked at the egg compartment... no eggs... booo again. Okay then, how about a cream cheese bagel. No cream cheese, damn it. Look in the pantry, no bagels.... god. I was starting to get angry. Okay, cereals then. I pick up the cereal box, that mofo was empty and I get mad: "who's the idiot who puts the empty box back in the pantry?" I remembered I live alone.
I close the fridge dejected and see the grocery list stuck on the fridge, taunting me with everything I wanted to eat for breakfast written on it. But I felt like if I went to the grocery store hungry as I Was, I'm just gonna pay 600$ and not get one single healthy thing to eat. I then remembered there's a restaurant next to the grocery store that serves breakfast until 3PM. I get excited! I get dressed quickly, grab my wallet and keys, put my boots on, my coat on, wrap my scarf, my tuque and my gloves and go to the restaurant. If you notice, I didn't mention my phone in there.
I get to the restaurant and confirm that they still have breakfast and get even more excited when she confirms it. I order the "heart attack", at least that's how I nicknamed it: 3 eggs, 3 servings of bacon, 2 sausages, and, I guess to give one peace of mind, fruit (or to be precise, one single solitary slice of orange). Now that the food is ordered and coming I figured I would check if I have any messages. I pat the pocket where my phone always is. No phone. uh-oh. I start clutching evert pocket, no luck.
I wonder if I should go back home after the meal before going to the grocery store and decide against it, it would be too long a detour. So I scarf my breakfast down, rush through the grocery store. I get home and set my bags down in front of the fridge. I go pick up my blackberry. I turn it back on. The little tape icon tells me there are messages on my voicemail, at that time there were no red dots with a number in it to tell you how many.
I connect to the voicemail while starting to put the groceries away. The little automated voice tells me "You have 25 new messages." I pull the phone away from my ear, look at it in disbelief as if saying: "are you f'ing kidding me?" So I press 1 to start playing the messages.
Remember: Maryse knew I was at a party with a dead phone, no chargers and I probably wouldn't get home until 1AM. From 6:30PM, when my phone died, to 11:34 PM, when she went to sleep she left me 9 messages. BTW I know she went to sleep at 11:34PM because she left me a message saying "it's 11:34PM and I'm going to bed. Thinking of you." The 9 messages were in the same vein. These are the salient details, but the messages were all much longer.
She woke up at 7:15 the following day, I'll let you guess how I know that tidbit of information! She left me 5 more messages like those from the day before: 7:15 woke up. 7:35 going to take a shower. 7:55 out of the shower. 8:25 getting ready to leave for work 8:50 walking out of the subway to go to the store.
She leaves me another message at 9 that was different. She sounded very excited as if she had had the best idea in the world: "Hey it's 9AM, I'm about to start my shift. I know we're only supposed to meet after my shift, but what if you came and met me for lunch so you could tell me all about your party." I just did my best Scooby-Doo "Ruh-Roh" and chuckled that I blew that, not thinking the calamity that was awaiting me.
Another couple of messages to talk logistics: "I could take my lunch at 12 or 12:30, let me know which you prefer." "I'm taking my lunch at 12:30"
A slightly worried message: "It's 11:15 and you stil have not said if you were coming or not, are you okay?"
The first bomb goes off and I knew I was in trouble then: "Where are you? We're supposed to meet for lunch and you still haven't given me any sign of life, you're not answering your home phone either, what happened?" Reminder: we were not supposed to meet for lunch, she suggested doing so a couple of hours earlier and I never agreed to anything. I guess she told her colleagues I would meet her for lunch and it was now fact and could perhaps make her look bad in front of her colleagues.
The second bomb drops: "It's almost noon now, WHERE ARE YOU? Stephanie says you're probably sleeping off your drunk, but I don't believe her. I'm sure you got yourself a slut and cheated on me. Didn't you? didn't you, you asshole." Stephanie knows me very well, but that wasn't enough for Maryse it seems.
Ensued four more messages from 12:30 to 1:15, where she starts sounding more and more drunk and accusatory, spewing more attacks like in the message above. At that point I already knew it was over, there was no coming back from that. I can understand having trust issues, but that was nuclear. I don't tolerate jealousy because of horrible experiences with a couple of jealous toxic exes.
A final message comes in, and it's a different voice, that of my best friend being more than a little angry: "Hey Guy, listen, Maryse tells me you had a Christmas party yesterday, so I'm guessing you're sleeping off your drunk, still. But call me when you get this. I put Maryse, who's f'ing drunk, in the backstore so she can dry off and "do inventory". She can't be on the sales floor obviously and I just don't feel safe sending her home in the state she's in. Call me to tell me how you want to handle this."
At that point I had finished putting away my groceries and had put my boots and my coat on and was making my way to the subway to go to the store. I call Stephanie and tell her I got the messages and I was coming. She was right, I was sleeping off my drunk and had just woke up (didn't feel the need to mention the breakfast and grocery store). I ask her if she knows what I'm gonna do when I get there. She says that she knows and understands. She knows my bad history.
When I get out of the subway, I call her again before getting to the store. I ask her how she wants me to do this. It's her store and I don't want to create drama in front of her customers. Does she want me to wait outside and she tells Maryse to meet me in the street or do I go in the store and she takes me to the backstore and I do it there? She says to come to the store.
I walk in the store and every saleswomen on the floor looks at me and gives me the biggest case of the stink-eye. They only have Maryse's side of the story, so they think I did all these horrible things. I see Stephanie in the middle of the store and I walk towards her. She shakes her head and points me towards the cash register. I look over there and see Julia, a salesperson that I've known for a couple of years and really like, who also happens to be the biggest gossip in the store. I understand what Stephanie is trying to do. She's gonna make me tell her my story in front of Julia so Julia can spread the "good news" to the other employees and rehabilitate my name possibly.
So I get to the register and say Hi to Julia. She barely acknoledges me. Steph joins me. She asks me:
"How are you?"
"I was better an hour ago, before I listened to those voicemails. I had gone to our office party last night, had a great night, got drunk off my ass, got home at around 2 and woke up around 2."
Julia asks "Maryse told us you were supposed to meet her for lunch."
"No we weren't. I have a reservation for tonight at XYZ restaurant. I was supposed to take the day to do errands, stuff around the condo and meet her here at closing time. She suggested that it could be fun if I came at lunchtime to meet her, but that was never the plan."
Julia asks again "But why didn't you answer your phone?"
"It ran out of battery last night during the party and when I got home, I was so drunk that I forgot to plug it back in. I only plugged it when I woke up at 2. That's when the messages came in."
Julia asks "She says she tried calling your home line and you didn't answer and your machine didn't kick in."
"Yeah, that one's my fault, I knew I wanted to sleep and telemarketers have a habit of calling me early saturday mornings so I didn't want to be awoken by a call for a rug cleaning service, so I unplugged it yesterday morning, knowing I would be drunk when I got home and forget and be angry if I was awakened by a telemarketer."
Julia gave me a hint of a smile, showing me she was starting to believe me. She asked me a few more questions and then she asked what I was gonna do. I told her that whatever I'll do, I would tell Maryse first.
I looked at Stephanie and said: "Can you open the back store so I can go see her?" So we went to the backstore. As we reached the door, it swung opened and out popped Maryse, looking absolutely terrifying, I actually jumped back when I saw her. Her usual perfect makeup was completely smeared, her mascara streaking down her cheeks from the crying. Her hair was disheveled. She was a mess. Apparently, she had had enough of waiting back there and was planning on leaving the store to go home and had put her coat and boots on.
When she saw me, she went into an unhinged rant about me being an asshole for cheating on her, me not being great in bed, me not treating her right, etc. I let her vent everything she had to say, I looked at Stephanie and apologized for creating such a scene in her store. I tell Maryse we should go outside and talk in private. She keeps on yelling, but when I grab her hand to lead her outside, she follows.
When we get outside, her anger had started to wane a little, or maybe just her energy. I was able to talk to her to explain everything, how I had gotten drunk, had overslept (alone) and woke up at 2PM. I reminded her that we were only supposed to meet at 5PM not for lunch. The anger was leaving her and a smile almost appeared on her face. Through all of this I was being very calm and patient with her, which she interpreted as me not being mad at her. I then said in a firmer tone: "However..." and let it hang for a second.
The beginning smile vanished. I continued: "When you accused me of cheating on you, that broke me. That triggered memories of toxic exes who would always accuse me of cheating, not trusting me when I would tell them where I was, snooping on me, stalking me. Because of those experiences, I have a zero tolerance policy for jealousy. I told her that if she was behaving like after only two months of dating, it didn't bode well for the future and I have to protect myself."
At that, the tears started again and she just turned and ran/waddled away. I told her to wait, but she didn't hear me. I turned towards the entrance of the store to see basically all the employees and customers milling around the door trying to catch the drama. I went back inside to talk to my best friend. The mood had definitely changed and no one was giving me the stink eye anymore, but I didn't really care. I was just sad that it had ended, but proud of myself for having stood up for myself.
So AITA for getting drunk and keeping my phone turned off?
There is a lot more to this story and if you want to learn what happened afterwards, then read on.
The immediate aftermath
So I went back inside the store and talked to Stephanie. I told her that I had a reserrvation for XX restaurant and if she wanted to go with Stephen, she could take it, I wasn't in the mood for a dinner. She said "I already have plans for tonight, but thanks for offering." Julia said she would go with me if I wanted, but I just said that I wasn't in the mood to go out. I just wanted to crash and eat a pizza and get into a food coma.
Stephanie said she didn't feel comfortable leaving me by myself and I should join them at her house. They were having friends over to play board games and it could at least distract me a little. I said why not. So brimming with enthusiasm, I went to play bored games. I left early as I wasn't in the mood. I was feeling a little better, but still a bit down. I thanked Stephanie for the invite and left. I got home and just passed out on the bed.
I woke up at around 7AM the next morning and I saw along the corners of the window the tell-tale signs of a snow-drift and got excited as it was the first snow of the season. I pushed the curtains aside and looked on to see a beautiful white carpet outside. It was early enough that very few cars had marred the whiteness. I was admiring it when I noticed that, against the red bricks of the building across the street, there was a pink blotch. As I focused, the blotch became human shaped and I cleared my eyes enough to realize that it was Maryse and she was raising her cell phone to her ear.
On cue, my phone rings. I pick it up. Still sounding drunk, she asks me if we can speak. I ask her to give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll meet her down there. She asks why she can't come up. I say that I'm not sure I want her in my apartment. She says that it's cold out. I say: "Good, then this will be quick."
I get dressed and meet her outside. I'm still bleary-eyed from having woken up 5 minutes ago, but I try to get my wits together. I tell her that we're going to walk to the subway. It 's a 10-minute walk normally, but with her drunkenness, it might take 15-20 minutes. That's how long she has to tell me what she wants to tell me.
She wants to apologize for accusing me of cheating on her. She says she knows I'm a great guy and... I may be the A-hole at this point too, but I start to drift off in my little bubble and start daydreaming about, if I go back to bed, would there still be some residual heat or would it be cold? I could take a hot shower and warm the bed that way. I could still hear her in the background making excuses, saying how she had been cheated on, but I wasn't really listening.
During the daydreaming I notice it got quite quiet. I look on my left and she's not there, I turn around she's a good 5-6 steps behind me looking angry and she says: "you're not listening" I just say: "when you're right, you're right." I tell her that I understand she's been hurt too in the past, and I hope she can work to resolve her issues, but I was done and I'm going back to bed. I was a bit harsh there, but I was tired and still down.
I walk past her and get maybe 10 paces past her when I hear a scream coming from her. I turn around and I see her messing with something inside her coat. She pulls out a chef's knife with like an 8-inch blade. That wakes me the fuck up. Byebye bleary eyes, hello wakefulness. better than a cup of coffee or a red bull I tell you!
So she's got the knife, she's screaming something that I can't quite understand. She gets quiet and then she charges at me with the knife. If I'm being honest I could have stayed where I was and she probably would have missed me anyways, but someone charges at me with a knife, I'm gonna nope out of there. I take a massive side step and once she gets to where I was and realizes that I'm no longer there, she turns her head towards me and says heyyyyy.
At that point, I have a moment of clarity and see what's gonna happen. She's drunk running one way and looking another, I know she's gonna trip. As I predicted, she stumbled over her feet and starts falling to the ground. I start praying to god and anybody who would listen: "Please don't let her cut herself. I don't want to have to explain this to the doctors, EMTs and nurses. I don't want her drunk ass deciding to take revenge on me by saying I did it."
Thankfully, she winds up in a sitting position on the sidewalk holding the knife up and it was clean. Thank god for small miracles. She starts crying and, other moment of clarity, I know she's gonna turn the knife on herself now. I jump towards her and I realize I was right, the knife starts moving towards her left wrist. I tackle her, grab her right wrist and twist it so she drops the knife. I pick the knife back up and put it in my pocket. She looks at me crying and says: "Why did you stop me?"
I pick her up and take her back to my building. In my building there was a couch in the lobby, so I take her there and I sit her down and plop myself next to her. I look at her and wonder out loud: "What am I gonna do with you? What can I do?"
She goes: "Just let me go, I'll be good." I tell her that's not going to happen. I realize I have three options and I give her the three options.
"So here's the choice I give you.
1- I pull out my phone, call 911 and tell them about the attempted murder back there and they send the police to arrest you. I don't want to do that because that could derail your life and not get you the help you need. Besides, they might not do anything anyway as it's your word against mine.
2= I pull out my phone, call 911 and tell them about the attempted suicide back there and that you need to be placed on a 72 hour hold. I could do that, but at the same time, again it's my word against yours, so maybe they don't believe me.
3- I'm gonna hazard a guess here. From what I've seen, you have alcohol problems. So I'm gonna guess you were in AA, had been sober for a while, I want to say 6 months, maybe less, when we met."
She confirms my guess.
"alright so option 3, I'm guessing you had a sponsor in AA." she nods "we call them up and tell them about your relapse and what happened this morning. Can they come get you and take care of you?"
She takes her phone out and picks a contact and calls. She hands me the phone. Someone answers and I explain the situation. They said they were coming right away. I give them my address, they get here 15 minutes later. Maryse had fallen asleep in the meantime, so I wake her up gently and help her to the car. Off she went.
I went back to my apartment and just crashed back to sleep.
A month later
Mid-january, my phone rings and I see Maryse's number on there. I send her to voice mail. Another call. Voicemail again. 5 minutes later, Private number calling. "Gee I wonder who that could be." Voicemail once more.
Afterwards, I didn't get any unidentified callers for a little over a week. One afternoon, I was at work and my phone rings and it's a number I do not recognize. I pick up.
"Hello."
"Hi, is this Guy?"
"Yes, to whom am I speaking?"
"This is Hannah, Maryse's sponsor. we spoke last month." I started fearing the worst.
"Yes, I remember. How can I help you?"
"Maryse tried to reach you last week and you rejected the calls. I think it could help Maryse if you listened to what she had to say. You're obviously not obligated to entertain her, but I think despite everything that happened, you still care about her or you would not have called me that morning."
"You are right, I do still care about Maryse. I'm just not sure how good it would be for her to meet me this soon after everything that happened. I understand wanting to work through the 9th step and making amends, but..." She interrupts me.
"So you know about the steps."
"Yes I have friends in the program. which is how I could guess that she was in the program too that morning."
"You know it's important."
"I know. I know. How about this: we meet in public at a cafe, you would have to be there. Not necessarily at the table with us, but nearby in case she needs help, in case meeting me causes her pain. Tell her I promise to be in a more receptive mood than I was that morning."
So we make an appointment for that saturday afternoon.
I get to the coffee shop. She's already there, and so is her sponsor. I realize happily that she's not wearing makeup. I say happily because that means she understands that this is not a date, but something serious. She's still stunningly beautiful, and I feel sad almost right away.
I grab a coffee and go join her at the table.
"Hey" I say,
"Hey. So this is gonna be uncomfortable, but thank you for agreeing to meet me and for coming, I appreciate it more than you know. I'm sure you heard I quit the store."
"I have, I'm sorry about that, I hope you didn't do it just because of me."
"No, I needed time to focus on myself for now."
She proceeds to tell me about how I wasn't far off with my guess. She had been sober 4 months when we met. Now she had 39 days. She tells me that in AA, if you are single, they recommend not dating anyone new for at least the first year of your sobriety as it can cause issues, similar to what happened with us. I was like her "drug" and as long as I was available, she could get her fix. But the moment I wasn't available all hell broke loose, and that is what led her back to drinking that day.
I told her I'm glad to see her back sober again this quickly and I hope she can get all the help she needs from it. I ask her if she wants to talk to me about her drinking.
She starts to share a story about how she started drinking at around 11 years old. When puberty hit her, she got into a deep depression because the sexual feelings she was starting to feel were triggering responses. As a child she had been abused by two of her uncles repeatedly and her parents never believed her. They accused her of trying to make herself interesting. That was until they caught one of those uncles red-handed.
They finally believed and took the necessary steps to protect their daughter. But they were poor and they couldn't afford therapy. So she never really got help for it. At 11, she started self medicating the depression with alcohol. When alcohol wasn't enough, she added drugs.
At that point, I was full on crying. She asked me if I wanted her to stop. I told her that she doesn't have to stop. That the tears are there because that was one more thing we had in common. I was also a survivor of sexual assault as a child. In my case, it wasn't a family member, it was only a stranger, so it only happened once. But I also self-medicated with alcohol at the onset of puberty, switching to drugs later on too. I was lucky to avoid the pitfalls of addiction, but I was still dealing with my demons, slowly making peace with them.
So there we were, sitting at a coffee shop, both crying and holding each other. I tell her that I think it's great she's getting help for her alcoholism and addicion, but was she doing anything to help with the underlying issue, the original trauma? She said no, she couldn't afford therapy. I tell her that I am a member of a survivors group and if she is interested, I could get her into a meeting and perhaps learn to heal that part of herself too.
She said that she could give it a try. I tell her I have to talk to the other members to know if I can bring someone new and I would let her know. If they said yes, we would go to her first meeting together, I would introduce her and then we would coordinate so that I never went to meetings where she was. I wanted to do that because I wanted her first few meetings to be about healing and I didn't want our own history to be intertwined or mixed in with that.
After that, we left both feeling content and, while not necesarily happy, at peace if you will. Later on, I contacted Stephanie who was one of the "pillars" of the support group (that's how we met) to ask her if it was okay for me to bring in a new member to the group. She said sure. She asked if it was anyone she knew. I told her she would have to meet her at the meeting if she decides to come.
We were having a meeting the following day. I called Maryse, told her the time and place, and she said she would be there. She came to the group meeting and was shocked to see Stephanie there but Stephanie kinda guessed that it was Maryse I was referring to.
I introduce her, we start sharing stories, talking about how we're feeling, etc. The meeting was good and Maryse liked the vibe. So for the first six months after that, I never saw Maryse and we planned which meeting we would be attending to ensure we didn't cross paths. She started feeling much better.
After maybe 2 and a half years, she finally felt ready and she started dating again. She met someone and she fell for him. They were together for about six months, she looked happy. Unfortunately after about six months, she caught him cheating on her. We tried supporting her, being good friends, cursing his name, doing all the things we could to make sure she didn't relapse. But on April 5th 2014, she ODed on heroin. She was hospitalized for 2 weeks after that.
Hannah took her in and she set up a room for Maryse. She was still in a fragile state, so a group of her friends and I started taking turns watching over Maryse, making sure there was always at least one person there with her to keep her company.
Despite our vigilance, on May 14th 2014, when Hannah was out running a quick errand, she was gone maybe 15 minutes tops, Maryse found a way to cut her wrists and she died. We found a note saying that "the OD was not an accident, and neither was that. Thanks for everything you did for me. I love you all, but I can't do this anymore."
It feels good to write that story (I'll just ignore the fat tears rolling down my face!). Thanks for reading this far and sorry for the long story, I just started writing and couldn't stop. I apologize if it was a bit of a bummer.

I am able to do anything without having someone do it for me. I’ve been known to fix or even mod whatever to bring it back k to life. That being said, I am full timing it in a class c (I think?) with my 3 teenage boys and a dog. My parents own the it, and basically needed someone to take care of it. Long story short, here I am. Inexperienced with no real help. I could use advice on everything. I have no clue what needs maintained, fixed, or what isn’t supposed to be, but is. My biggest problem right now is the water and toilet…winter MAYBE caused a pipe to burst, and when I turned the water supply on, it shot out of the bathrooms faucet handles like mad, and I shut it off again before flooding the place. Since then, we go to the public bathrooms to get water and shower. We are staying at a nice trailecamp ground close to the city. The toilet became clogged and I fixed it with some blue tank stuff (I have no idea what it is called exactly, but it breaks down bad things, while also neutralizing odors), and a special plunger, but not the snake kind. All was well until 4 days ago when the toilet clogged again. This time I’ve been plunging for hours day after day, and it is only draining a little. I was able to plunge out some napkins, which most likely fell in by accident. NOTHING gets put down the toilet EVER.Recently , whenever I plunge, water is coming out of the bathroom sink. Omg I’m overwhelmed with questions to ask what to do, what everything is, and how to do it. They mention emptying grey tanks. I thought our sewage was paid through what I pay the RV park to stay here. I don’t know what to do. Can anyone just begin telling me some of the tasks I am needing to do for maintenance?? My parents most likely hired someone, or didn’t understand what they were doing. One can only watch so many YouTube videos. Please no judgment. The situation that pulled me to this challenge was unavoidable, but I am determined to come out of this a pro. Thank you in advance, and sorry if I seem all over the place with my explanation. I just have no clue what I am doing, and I need as much help, tips, and advice I can get!

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/Nocontact4you
None of my family knows this trip will be the last time they see me.
Originally posted to TrueOffMyChest & Poems
Thanks to u/lolfuckno for suggesting this BoRU
TRIGGER WARNING: Infidelity, cancer, ableism, bullying, abandonment, emotional abuse of a child, verbal abuse, neglect, lies, mentions of miscarriage
MOOD SPOILER: Depressing
Original Post Feb 4, 2024
Firstly, I’m okay, physically anyway.
Honestly, I have no idea who this is for, but I think I just need it out of my head.
The circumstances of my birth were complicated. I broke up two marriages, and my family has never been shy about how they feel about me for that. Only one of my brothers has gotten drunk enough to tell me to my face that he resents me for existing, but I know it exists within all of them, at least in some way. Im much younger than all my siblings, and there was so much that happened out of our hands that I made excuses, but my whole life, I’ve never quite felt “part of the family”.
As a child, I told myself we’d make up for lost time once I got older and we could talk as equals. Now, at 23, I see glimpses of the life I wished I’d have, but in the end, I’m always too much trouble to involve. I hear EVERYTHING from my father. I had to find out my niece was in a car accident from him; I had to find out my other niece had a miscarriage from him; I had to find out my oldest brother had a BRAIN TUMOR haphazardly on a phone call with my father, which he didn’t even know I was unaware of.
I’ve known for a while I’m the only one trying, but for the sake of my dreams, I’ve given every opportunity for them to let me in, but I just can’t do it anymore.
I have a psychiatric service dog who aids me with CPTSD. He is the single greatest thing to happen to me. Not only did he save my life from myself, but he has made life livable. He can tell when I’m panicking and he knows pressure therapy to help me through an attack. He stops me from hurting myself in meltdowns, sits with me until the only noise I can hear anymore is his snoring on my lap. He allows me to go grocery shopping by myself. He is my soulmate, and anyone who knows me knows how important he is to me.
My dating life isn’t thriving, so I took a shot in the dark and asked my niece if she minded if I brought my service dog as my plus one for her wedding at the end of this month. I have to fly across the country to go, so I will be bringing him anyway since I cannot fly alone. I figured it couldn’t hurt to see if he could not have to stay in the hotel all night. I do not technically need him for the event, since I’ll know every guest and I will be drinking pretty heavily to cope, but getting to spoil him with a bow-tie, dancing, and STEAK, sounded like the perfect reward for helping me on my flight. Several times, I emphasized that I understood it was an odd request and she could say no if she wanted.
She was EMPHATIC that he could come! She said even if I found a date, he could come! I was elated! For once, I felt seen, I felt cared about, I felt valued. And then I got a call from my dad. No one wanted to make things awkward, but the mother of the bride was NOT okay with a dog being at the venue. I explained that he is a trained service animal and will not impede the ceremony in anyway, and I’d of course remove him if he did. Still, he said they didn’t like it. I was so tired of hearing everyone else’s words through my father. He won’t be around forever and sooner or later, they will have to start talking to me
I had one request: let the bride tell me. When I asked her, she said yes, and until she told me she changed her mind, I was under the assumption he could go. Well, I never heard back. My dad kept dropping hints when i’d call him, but I told him what my expectations were. When I RSVP’d, I put my dog as my plus one on the response to let them know I wasn’t backing down this time. At this point, I didn’t even care if she said he couldn’t go. I just wanted to hear it from her.
The next morning, I woke up to an EMAIL from my father. Not even a text, a fucking email explaining that my niece didn’t want to be the bad guy, but my dog was NOT welcome at the wedding. He said he was sorry, but he could still come with me to the hotel if I wanted.
Something inside me broke, I think. I think I realized this is truly a helpless case. They are never going to respect me the way I crave them to. To this day, not one of our conversations has been started by them. I always initiate, and now, the one time I request a direct contact, I get an email.
Family means everything to me. Over the last few years, i’ve redefined what a family can be, and if right now, my family needs to be a very damaged orphan and their service animal, I’m grateful I have that much.
So, I’m going to the wedding, and then I’m never going to talk to any of them again.
And the sad part is, I didn’t even think they’re going to notice.
Update:
First, thank you to everyone for the kind words, and all the advice. It sincerely means so much that so many people care. I want to address all the questions about why I want to go to this wedding at all. There are plenty of practical reasons that I can name, but the truth is, I need to go for my own closure.
I have a strange relationship with death, and loss. My mother died when I was 5; my family split up right after. I’ve lost several caregivers to serious diseases, grieving their death as they lived. I’ve learned how to navigate MY grieving process. If I don’t go to this wedding, I will regret it. Not only is it my last chance to see my childhood family all together in one place, but if I don’t go, I show them they can bully me. I do not want to make a spectical of my trauma with them, but that does not mean I have to walk away with my tail between my knees.
I’m not scared of them. My relationship is non-existent, but I did see my siblings/cousins/neiecesandnephews fairly regularly. When I was a kid, they intimidated and bullied me into silence, but I’m not a child anymore. I lived with these people; I can manage one night, if for no other reason than to prove they cannot control me.
Thanks again for all the kind words. Happy to provide a pupdate if someone can tell me how to post pictures from the app?
RELEVANT COMMENTS
When told not to go to the wedding

I spent $700 on a plane ticket and $200 on a suit. Least I can do is go drink someone else’s liquor and dance my worries away. Besides. It feels like goodbye

&

The cherry on top is they are all very conservative Christians, and I will be going in a suit with my hair dyed green and makeup done to the nines, so this will be my biggest “fuck you, I’m here anyway” I can pull off. Truthfully, my father’s memory is starting to go as he gets older, so even if I did explain my feelings, he will end up sharing anyway, so I’ve made my peace with the fact that it will be a one-way-street because lord knows they’re not gonna ask what I’m up to.

When told to call the bride directly

The last 20 years of trauma will not be solved with one phone call. This was their last chance to prove to me they want me in their lives. It’s not about the dog. It’s the fact that all I asked is to be treated like a person and talked to directly, and they have proven to me they don’t care, so I’m leaving. I already did my job of reaching out to her and she said yes. Why is it my job to reach out and make sure she hasn’t changed her mind?

When told her father is an asshole and he is the one responsible for everything

THANK YOU! I have felt like the only one who cannot fathom how that conversation could be had over EMAIL?? It’s sadly not uncommon for them to communicate through him, and I always have the receipts after the fact when they’re no longer worried about the awkwardness. My brothers don’t even know where I work. I am building a career around my job. They couldn’t tell you what my relationship status is, and I’d be hard pressed to tell you if they knew my middle name to be honest. My father is not innocent, but they are responsible for their part in our relationship. I have stopped reaching out to them directly because I barely hear back, and it’s clear they don’t really care what I’m saying. I could honestly write a book on the road that’s led me to this choice, but who’s got the time in this economy?

Pupdate for Everyone Asking! Feb 6, 2024
He’s a 2.5 year old, Black and Tan Coonhound☺️
Dog tax
Update Feb 26, 2024
Original Story Here:
https://www.reddit.com/TrueOffMyChest/s/2MfJ98m6kP
POST-WEDDING UPDATE!
So, I went to the wedding. It went about how I expected it to go, though one can never be ready for a spontanious conga line. Sadly, there was no secret last minute invite, nor any secret plot of which the bride was unaware. She felt bad saying no, so she lied, and she didn’t want to tell me that, and she still didn’t, even at the wedding. No one really said much at all, in fact. The mother of the bride did not speak to me at all, my brother tiptoed around the subject until the end of the night. To his credit, he did apologize, “for all the dog stuff” as he said goodbye. Strangely, the apology didn’t make me feel much better.
There was no big confrontation either, mainly because no one cared to listen to me if I tried. As the reception began, part of me wondered how much I was going to miss the people, the environment, the vibe, really. Truthfully, I surprised myself with how ready I was to leave. Goodbye was short, and bittwersweet.
The venue was pretty and the alcohol was free, so I made the best of my night, but I got what I needed out of it, I think. Getting home tonight felt like a weight lifting off my shoulders. I know more than ever that I need to do this, and what I once saw as cutting my family in half, I can now see is clearing space for new family, one that cares.
Thank you for all your kind words, and all the support for my dog!
Arrogance is Bliss March 25, 2024
You don’t love me.
You love an idea of me you fabricated in your mind when I was a child.
I’m no longer a child.
I’m far from perfect, but I’m growing, I’m glowing, and I’m grieving the reality that none of you will ever know the person I become.
You call it love, but my scars disagree.
You hate my hair, my style, my beliefs—you hate me.
And the saddest part is, I don’t even think you know you do.
THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

Currently I'd say they're the main reason I end up out of position and whacked by missiles on the bot front.
They're horrendously tanky and yet absurdly numerous.
How are you beating them?
Currently my most reliable answers are:

• Autocannon (1-3 shots)
  
• Anti Materiel Rifle (to the crotch: 2-3 shots?)
  
• An Entire Senator Drum
  
• Stun Grenades && An Entire Primary Magazine
  

I am a wife of a Veteran. I was on here back in Feb and March and many of you were quite helpful when my husband went to ER and was admitted. Here are details leading to my questions:
- May 1986, my husband sustained a compression fracture to 3 vertebrae in roll-over accident while serving on active duty. Was given 20% service rating when discharged.
- 2001 was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor (Glioblastoma). Did chemo and radiation and lived the next 23 years with no deficits or recurrence.
- Started having back, tailbone and foot pain early 2023 and found out through another Veteran he should be applying for a higher service rating.
- After a scan Aug 2023 was diagnosed with Spinal Stenosis.
- Using a local VSO he applied for an increase based on prognosis.
- Dec 2023, VA approved for back diagnosis, denied for tailbone/ coccyx and foot pain. Received a service connection rating of 60%.
- Feb. 2024 experienced seizures for the first time in his life. ER visit determine recurrence of brain tumor. Had craniotomy to remove tumor.
- April 25, 2024, after lengthy hospital stay recovering, he was transferred to an inpatient intensive Neurological rehabilitation center and is still currently there.
- Since I was not around when my husband had his car accident, his family told me he did not remember who he was when he woke up in the hospital and did not remember the accident. They believe I should try to prove his accident definitely had trauma to his head which very well could have lead to his brain cancer years later. May be a long shot.
- Small non-VA hospital where he was taken to in 1986 no longer have his medical records from the accident. After 3 days in that hospital, he was transferred to William Beaumont Army Medical Center in Fort Bliss, TX. Have not called yet to see if they have kept medical records from 1986.
- Husband’s Neuro-Oncologist said “sure a head trauma could potentially lead to brain cancer, anything is possible, as we don’t know what causes brain cancer.”
- I also believe he had PTSD, as he lost his best friend who was driving the vehicle and could never talk to me about it. He said it triggered too much pain and was traumatized when his best friends mother said to him (out of grief I’m sure), “I guess we will never really know who was driving the vehicle.”
I have tried to watch advice given by other Veterans on YouTube, but there is so much info it is kind of overwhelming. I thought of hiring a 3^rd party, but again so many and how do you know which are actually legit. So a Veteran friend recommended I start off with the VSO and see what she says and if that doesn’t’ work, then hire a 3^rd party.
Since my husband has memory and cognitive deficits right now, I am the one who will be trying to get his service connection rating increased. I do have medical POA for my husband and I did submit Form 21-0845 (Auth to Disclose Info to me). I have a meeting with the same VSO next week Wed. May 22 to discuss appealing the denial on tailbone and foot pain. I have access to his VA portal and could not find explanation for denial of tailbone and foot pain. Also the fact that my husband has terminal brain cancer and is no longer employable.
1. I know brain cancer will be a hard thing to prove a connection with his car accident while in service. But back in 1986 I don’t think head traumas were given as much concern as they are now. Do any of you think there are ways to prove this, or does it even need to be proved with a terminal diagnosis?
2. Any advice when speaking with the VSO on what I should say and not say when trying to appeal the tailbone and foot pain and unemployable?
Thanks in advance.

So before my game got wiped by accident and I had to start over I remember having a hammer where charged head shots would explode and now I barely get any hammers and they suck. So anyone out there have the exploding hammer or do I have false memories?

Any tips on getting through the puppy stages? Our golden retriever puppy she’s 20 weeks old has really put us through it. We never imagined it being this completely hard. We’ve been absolutely miserable but really trying our hardest to push through. We have her potty training on puppy pads, she did horrible at first and then did so great for a few weeks, she was going on her puppy pads consistently and now the last week she’s back to having accidents all over the house. She had her last set of shots on Friday so waiting about another week to start training her to go potty outside. Not even sure how to transition her from puppy pads to outside. We’re really frustrated and exhausted. I do now understand why some people have to rehome their pups, it’s completely mentally exhausting and your mental health suffers tremendously through this period. Please help!! Btw we’re in an apartment which is why we had to puppy pad train.

Trigger warning: the stories of gun violence in this post are quite harrowing.
The premise of my argument is pretty simple:

• The ONLY productive thing that a loaded gun can do that an unloaded gun cannot do is shoot a bullet into a person or animal who is behaving badly.
• Any other productive thing that someone can do with a loaded gun (such as threaten to use it) can be accomplished with an unloaded gun.
• Loaded guns have several grave downsides that unloaded guns do not have.
• The chances of being in a situation where actually shooting a bullet is necessary are quite low, compared to a circumstance where merely brandishing the gun is sufficient.
• It is rational for people to minimize the downsides of carrying a loaded gun in exchange for eliminating their protection in the remote circumstance where their brandished gun was insufficient and where shooting a bullet is necessary.

So my argument is pretty simple: loaded guns have both pros and cons compared to unloaded guns, so it’s rational that some people might weigh those pros and cons differently from others and conclude that carrying an unloaded gun is better. But from what I can tell, no one does this. No one carries unloaded guns for protection, even though it might help them better than a loaded gun.
But I know what you’re thinking! What are these circumstances where carrying an unloaded gun would be better?
Take the story of Veronica Rutledge for example. She thought that she needed a loaded gun for protection, so she carried one in her purse when she went to Walmart. She never had the chance to fire a bullet with it.
The same can’t be said for her 2-year-old son. If Veronica had carried an unloaded gun, her son would have fired a blank, and she would have been escorted out of Walmart by security, rather than taken out on a stretcher by paramedics. It would be a funny story that she could share with her 12-year-old son today. But she carried a loaded gun for protection instead.
Veronica Rutledge wasn’t the victim of a crime, so she wasn’t put in the typical position where shooting a bullet is necessary. Demarcus Barnett was though. He was robbed by two men on 7th Street in Washington, D.C. He did what most good guys with a loaded gun would do in that situation—he shot at the bad guys. His only problem was that he didn’t hit them. He hit 62-year-old Air Force vet Lasanta McGill instead. Demarcus now has the next 8 years in the state pen to think about how an unloaded gun would have better suited him in the heat of the moment after being robbed.
Now maybe all that shows is that guns don’t mix well with crowded streets or grabby two-year-olds. You may think they’re still necessary for protection from violent assaults.
But they don’t even really mix well with violent assaults. Take the story of an unfortunate man in Memphis from earlier this year. He was punched by one Dylan Clark. He pulled out his gun to stand his ground. And then Dylan Clark shot him with it! His choice to carry a loaded gun turned a one-week recovery from his punch into an expensive trip to the hospital with a bullet wound.
So given these examples, it stands to reason that if someone doesn’t want to be killed by their children, accidentally shoot the wrong person, or have their own gun taken and used against them, they should seriously consider carrying an unloaded gun. If any of these people had carried an unloaded gun instead, they would be alive and free and well today. The ONLY situation where a loaded gun would suit them better is one where brandishing the gun doesn’t work and firing a bullet is necessary, a situation that very very few people are ever put in.
I totally admit that the advice to carry a unloaded gun is eccentric. It would be quite possibly the weirdest thing someone could do with a gun. I don’t even know that I would be able to put this advice into practice myself. But I’m not convinced that it’s irrational, that it’s only a conclusion someone can reach without all their mental faculties.
So what am I missing? What makes carrying an unloaded gun for protection truly batshit crazy? CMV.

I'm going through a divorce. My ex has been aggressive with our girls in the past. We don't have custody legally set up yet as we're waiting for our court date. During one of his visits he lost his temper and shot our 10 year old daughter in the face with a nerf gun then screamed at her that she would be fine when she started crying. I talked to him about it and he said it was an accident. Our 12 year old saw it happen too and said that it was not an accident, he was upset with the 10 year old and he walked up to her and aimed it at her face before shooting. I know that what he did was wrong, but is it considered physical abuse? It didn't leave a mark

Knuckles the Echidna

"I am the last guardian of Angel Island. I will protect the Master Emerald. And I will do it alone if I have to."

To make a very long, complicated, and confusing story short, Knuckles the Echidna is the Guardian of the mythical Master Emerald and protector of the floating Angel Island (interchangeably called the Floating Island). He comes from a long line of Guardians, each serving as Guardian before him. Before his birth, his father, Locke, saw a dream he thought of as prophetic, and prepared his unborn baby with the power to handle his future responsibility...by blasting his egg with Chaos radiation, granting Knuckles his spiked fists and an aptitude for Chaos Energy manipulation.
Knuckles would go through many hardships throughout his life: His father's death, discovering his home then watching its destruction, and his endless fight against Dr. Eggman and the forces of the Dark Legion. Knuckles would even die and be brought back to life. However hard the going gets, though, Knuckles always manages to recover and hit harder. He's not just rougher than the rest of them; he's the best of them.

Section Key: I. Strength II. Speed/Agility III. Durability IV. Chaos Power V. Other VI. Hyper Knuckles VII. Chaos Knuckles Source Key: Knuckles' Chaotix - Chaotix Knuckles the Echidna - KtE# Sonic and Knuckles - S&K Sonic's Friendly Nemesis, Knuckles Miniseries - Nem# Sonic Quest - Quest# Sonic the Hedgehog (1993) - StH# Sonic the Hedgehog Free Comic Book Day - FCD# Sonic the Hedgehog Triple Trouble - Triple Sonic Super Special - Spe# Sonic Universe - SU# Sonic vs. Knuckles - SvK Super Sonic vs. Hyper Knuckles - SSvHK 

Feats are posted in chronological order. Hover over a feat to see its source.

For additional context on some feats, see a map of Angel Island here.

To see his feats during his time as the Enerjak, see here (Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne)

I. Strength

Striking

• Breaks a fake Chaos Emerald.
• Breaks down a brick wall in one punch.
• Knocks out Fang with one punch.
• Destroys Metal Sonic in one blow when they’re both at a giant size.
• Brawls with Enerjak.
• Punches a hole in a giant machine.
• Brawls with Sonic until they’re both exhausted.
• Rams through a large metal robot.
• Breaks through an indeterminate amount of stone.
• Punches Sonic so hard Sally worries that Knuckles could have knocked Sonic’s head off.
• Shatters a few Egg Grapes.
• Punches Finivetus hard enough for him to bounce.
• Punches a sturdy trap wall hard enough to climb up it.
• Clashes fists against Finitevus hard enough to cause a shockwave.
• Punches the ground enough to crack it and create smoke.

Lifting/Grabbing

• While Perfect Chaos is flooding a city and Knuckles is in this water, he lifts a heavy generator that powers the entire city.
• Restrains an out-of-control Bunnie alongside Mighty and Vector.
• Catches a giant drill and prevents its rotation.
• Holds up rubble alongside Amy to prevent a cave-in.
• Snaps off an arm of the Egg Beater with Vector’s help.
• Grabs Finivetus by his cape and slams him into a wall hard enough to crack it.

Throwing

• Throws a dingo from one room to another to hit another dingo.
• Tosses Sonic above cloud level.
• Throws Thrash through a stone wall.

Other

• Anchors himself with his spikes during a tornado.
• Easily cuts a tree with ease.
• Powers through Thrash’s screams.

II. Speed/Agility

Combat/Evasion

• Evades falling boulders.
• Dodges a lot of traps completely unscathed including machine guns.
• Spins in a cyclone fast enough to throw a biker gang into the distance.
• Dodges a laser.
• Dodges a robot’s mace.
• Keeps up with Sonic going all-out pretty handily, at one point holding him down.
• Dodges multiple close-proximity lasers.
• Dodges Espio’s kunai in very close range.

Movement

• Speeds from near the outside of Angel Island to a distant mountain.
• Swims from the deepest point of the ocean floor to the surface before he loses oxygen, only not succeeding due to outside interference.
• Outruns a blast that quickly engulfs the Floating Island, only being hit when he reaches the end of the island. Out of everyone on the island, Knuckles is the only one able to outrun the blast and even reacts fast enough to throw a Dark Legion member into the blast before he starts actually running.
• Hops over a fence.
• Hops from one floating vehicle to another.

Gliding

• Can glide above the trees even in turbulent winds.
• For some reason his gliding works by using his dreadlocks???
• Okay, that isn't gliding, that's just flying, Knuckles.
• Can glide (fly) high enough to be significantly above Angel Island.

Other

• Swapped emeralds without Sonic and Eggman noticing.
• Able to keep balance on an Extreme Gear while grappling with Storm.

III. Durability

Blunt

• Struck by Sonic going at full speed.
• Bonked by Sonic hitting him with an entire tree.
• Hurt but able to handle being surprise attacked by Espio, Vector, and Mighty in succession.
• Tanks blows from Enerjak whose raw strength is stated to dwarf Knuckles’.
• Shot down by a giant laser.
• Takes a few blows from an alternate (Irish) version of himself.
• Hit by Sonic hard enough to create a hole in Castle Acorn.
• Launched into a wall by Thrash’s scream.
• Blasted repeatedly by Thrash’s screams, visibly no worse for wear.

Energy/Fire/Electricity

• Blasted by Enerjak.
• Gets the inside of his mouth burnt by Archimedes.
• Zapped by Enerjak.
• Hurt but generally fine after being splashed by lava.
• Tanks the edge of a blast that engulfed a large chunk of the Floating Island, still has enough energy to drag himself out of the ocean onto a piece of debris though he falls unconscious for twelve hours.
• Takes some hits from dingo goons armed with electric weapons.

Other

• Harmed but unfazed by getting drained by the energy siphon used on the Master Emerald that allows the Floating Island to stay, well, afloat.
• Seemingly unaffected by the pressure caused from being inside the very bottom of an ocean aside, more so worried about having no oxygen.
• Only worried about the cold while 30,000 meters above the already cloud level floating island.
• Is the first to regain consciousness after a crash.
• Crushed by a mechanical lobster.
• Gets caught in an avalanche, recovers quickly.

IV. Chaos Power

For a period during his conflicts with the Dark Legion, his latent Chaos power increased with time until an explosion would turn his skin green and properly transform him into Chaos Knuckles, losing his powers when he later died and revived. He didn't rekindle his powers until a conflict with Dr. Finivetus reawakened his latent abilities.
Knuckles usually doesn't use these abilities, but can break them out again when necessary.

Offensive

• Dismantles a machine on his neck then blasts Hunter into unconsciousness.
• Clashes with Finivetus hard enough to create a huge sphere of energy on Angel Island.

Non-Offensive

• Passively regenerates from a splash of lava.
• Creates a portal from Mobius’ surface to Angel Island.
• Flies with his eyes closed and “sees” his surroundings with help from the Guiding Star Gem.
• Either doesn’t register on an infrared sensor or genuinely has no body heat.
• Throws a few Chaos Spears.

Energy Generation

• Called a living Chaos Emerald as he projects a message to a fellow Guardian in an entirely different Zone; later corroborated by an examination performed by the Dark Legion.
• Generates enough natural power to overload a power system that winds up blowing up a complex and is implied to radiate enough energy after 15 minutes to be akin to nuclear fallout.

V. Other

• Can tell where Espio is even when he’s invisible.
• Carries a laser gun that destroys a door he cannot with brawn.
• Has the worst family tree.
• Called in by Sally to fight Sonic all-out on his level while Sonic is mind-controlled, Knuckles appearing right after Sonic wipes the floor with both the Freedom Fighters and Chaotix.
• Holds the Guiding Star, an artifact that creates a magical transport back to Angel Island from any place.
• Holds a Warp Ring which allows him to teleport to any location he sets his mind to.
• Resists Finivetus’ hypnotization.

VI. Hyper Knuckles

Also referred to as Super Knuckles, this form occurs when Knuckles absorbs sufficient Chaos Energy from the Chaos Emeralds, the Master Emerald, or a similarly potent source. With the power, he has the ability to take on powerful foes like Super Sonic and Master Mogul.

Strength

• Described as “a thousand times stronger” than usual.
• Tears apart reality fighting Super Sonic, destroying the Zone they fight in.
• Alongside Super Sonic, punches Master Mogul through buildings.
• Breaks the top of a mountain then throws Hunter across Angel Island.

Speed

• Keeps up with Super Sonic.
• Described as moving at “incalculable speeds”.

Durability

• Takes hits from Super Sonic.
• Tanks the Zone-busting clash between himself and Super Sonic but reverts back to normal.
• Completely ignores Chaos energy that was hurting him at base form.

Chaos Power

• Unleashes a surge of power that ends the war between the echidnas and dingoes.

VII. Chaos Knuckles

Due to Knuckles' father microwaving the baby imbuing Knuckles' egg with Chaos radiation, Knuckles' own Chaos energy grew until achieving the god-like Chaos Knuckles form, becoming closer to a living Chaos Emerald than an echidna. During his time as Chaos Knuckles, he was one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse if not the strongest outright, or at least stronger than Turbo Tails and Dimitri as the Enerjak. However, his grasp of his powers was questionable at best and uncontrollable at worst, which would eventually lead to his demise.

Strength

• Bops Tails on the head.
• Beats Turbo Tails unconscious in a short fight.

Speed

• Unleashes a blast of energy before Tails can react, though he wasn’t in control of his actions.
• Keeps up with Turbo Tails.

Durability

• Stands undamaged in an epicenter of an explosion that knocked out multiple people including a Roboticized Mobian.
• Endures being siphoned of his energy until Charmy and Saffron free him.
• Surprise attacked by Turbo Tails.
• Tanks blows from Turbo Tails.
• Makes the scenario of Angel Island crashing and/or blowing up from Chaos energy nonlethal by taking the brunt of it himself; also a Chaos Power feat.
• Undamaged from a shot to the head that would have killed base Knuckles.

Chaos Power

Offensive

• Paralyzes a Roboticized Mobian.
• A shout throws around everybody surrounding him and teleports them to various places across the world.
• Unleashes a “tidal wave” of energy.
• An energy blast goes straight through Angel Island with the debris knocking out Tails.
• An optic laser harms Turbo Tails.
• Shoots down a meteor that would have destroyed the city of Echidnaopolis.
• [Limit] Blows himself up and dies saving Dimitri and destroying Mogul’s Chaos Siphon, ascending to a higher plane of existence in the Chaos Force (temporarily).

Non-Offensive

• Warps through time and space on accident; later does so on purpose.
• Teleports through time and space to Dimitri’s ship which moves at Mach 5.
• Detects the death of two echidna who crashed into the ship he is on.
• Read someone’s mind, though at the time he wasn’t sure how to do so consciously.
• Sends a telepathic message and projection of himself to his father across the Floating Island.
• Stops his heart to play dead.
• Heals somebody from critical condition.

Reality Warping

• Unconsciously warps reality on a fundamental scale, changing reality to different versions of itself: First to one resembling the OVA, then a reality without the Dark Legion, then a reality resembling SatAM, then to a reality where Sally is dead, finally to reality as it once was. Notably, both Sonic and Sally had full awareness of the changes during the changes, and everyone else had full awareness only after the fact.
• [Limit] Can’t stop events that would be inevitable through multiple methods such as Echidnaopolis’ destruction or the failure of Dimitri’s plan in the past.
• Manipulates time on an island-wide level to restore Angel Island to its original state before its inhabitants were teleported to another Zone.
• Creates flowers.
• Ejects himself from the Chaos Force and revives himself, but loses access to his powers.
• In one version of the future, warps the entirety of Mobius to his whim.

Characters Used for Scaling (all pre-Super Genesis Wave):

• Dimitri the Echidna.
• Dr. Finitevus.
• Egg Beater, Respect Thread by Proletlariet.
• Enerjak (as Dimitri), Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne.
• Espio the Chameleon.
• Metal Sonic.
• Mighty the Armadillo, Respect Thread by theusjshjdhdne.
• Sonic the Hedgehog, Respect Thread by 76SUP and Joshless.
• Thrash the Tasmanian Devil.
• Vector the Crocodile.
• Tails the Fox.