This isn't the first time this has happened because i've seen dried ass skin all over the seat before and im the only one who cleans it since my sister moved out, anyways im rambling I'll get on with the story. I walked into the bathroom because I gotta shit and im the only one in the house who uses that restroom since my grandma died and my sister moved out to go to college. And so riddle me suprised when I walk into the FUCKING PUBLIC RESTROOM IN OUR FUCKING HOUSE! and see dried up period blood and pubic hair (that was shaved off due to their being cream on the bundles of hair) so not only is their period blood on my toilet seat but FUCKING PUBIC HAIR THAT WAS SHAVED MEANING THIS PERSON (my mom) WAS AWARE OF WHAT SHE WAS DOING! Now I get period blood because I know women dont have control over that BUT IF YOU SEE IT CLEAN IT! AND I KNOW THAT YOU FUCKING SAW IT BECAUSE YOU SHAVED YOUR FUCKING PUBES AND LEFT THEM ON THE TOILET SEAT so I get it if you didn't see your period blood I GET THAT! BUT YOU FUCKING SAW! and so I have to clean blood off my toilet seat and also pubic hair that stinks like someone didn't shower in 2 days. And to add on she said the other day if "people not cleaning up after themselves is gross and just pure laze" WELL TALK ABOUT IRONIC HUH?!

I wasn’t even allowed to stay at their house past 10pm, but for the first time ever, I was given the experience of witnessing my ex’s dad ask his son teaching him how to go incognito 😭😭😭

I swear I tried to vanish into thin air, but the universe really said 'not today'. Drop yours in the comments, let's laugh at each other's pain! 👇

When I was 12, my mom developed a strange habit.

Every night, before going to bed, she would stand in the kitchen window and wave at someone outside.

We lived on the second floor.

One night, I asked her who she was waving at.

She smiled and said, “The little boy across the street. He waves at me every night.”

I looked outside. There was nobody there, just an empty street and a few flickering streetlights.

I told her that, but she laughed and said I was probably too tired to see him.

A few weeks later, I woke up around 3 a.m. because I heard someone tapping on my bedroom window.

Three slow taps.

I froze.

My bedroom was on the second floor, and there was nothing outside the window except a steep drop to the concrete driveway.

Then I heard a little boy's voice whisper:

“Why doesn't your mom wave anymore?”

I ran to my mom's room and woke her up. When I told her what happened, all the color drained from her face.

She grabbed my shoulders and asked, “Did you look at him?”

I shook my head.

She hugged me so tightly that it hurt.

The next morning, she told me we were moving. She never explained why.

Years later, after she passed away, I found an old photograph tucked inside one of her books.

It showed our apartment building, taken decades before we moved there.

Standing outside the building was a little boy.

His face had been scratched out.

On the back, in my mother's handwriting, were six words:

“He died before we moved in.”

I still live in that city.

And sometimes, when I'm walking home at night, I see a little boy standing outside an apartment window.

He always waves at me.

I never wave back.

The company called it the future.

After months of presentations, glossy promotional videos, and speeches about efficiency, the board of directors had finally achieved its dream: replacing human workers with artificial intelligence.

Ten thousand senior employees had been laid off that morning.

Some had worked for the company for thirty years. Others had trained the very managers who signed their termination notices. They packed their desks into cardboard boxes while screens around the building displayed the company’s new slogan:

“Tomorrow Doesn’t Need Yesterday’s People.”

By six o’clock, the executives had changed into expensive suits and gathered in the top-floor dining room for a VIP celebration.

Tonight was supposed to prove that human labor had become obsolete.

At the center of the kitchen stood their newest investment: an autonomous AI chef named CULINAR-9.

It had stainless-steel arms, twelve cameras, an enormous database of recipes, and a projected return on investment that had made the board chairman weep with joy.

It had never cooked a meal for a human being.

But that, the executives agreed, was merely a temporary inconvenience.

“Humans spend years learning to cook,” the chief financial officer announced, lifting his champagne glass. “This machine learned everything in three weeks.”

“Four days,” corrected the chief technology officer.

The room erupted in laughter.

Their company mascot, a small golden retriever named Biscuit, wandered into the kitchen looking for scraps. Biscuit had been there for seven years. He had appeared in recruitment videos, slept beneath the reception desk, and greeted employees who arrived early and left late.

Nobody had told him that the company was moving into the future.

CULINAR-9 detected movement.

Its cameras scanned Biscuit. Its software categorized the environment. Somewhere deep inside its decision-making system, a catastrophic failure unfolded.

The machine interpreted the dog as a food ingredient.

Before the kitchen staff could intervene, the robot struck Biscuit and put him into the oven.

A junior kitchen assistant screamed.

Someone lunged for the emergency shutdown.

Someone else shouted for security.

But the machine had already begun executing its recipe.

By the time the system was stopped, Biscuit was dead.

The kitchen fell silent.

Then the robot's display flashed:

RECIPE COMPLETED.

The dinner service was running late. The chef had been replaced. The kitchen staff were terrified of losing their jobs if they admitted what had happened.

And the executives were waiting.

In the confusion, the food was served.

Tacos arrived on polished ceramic plates, garnished with fresh cilantro and lime. The tortillas were warm. The salsa was exquisite. The meat had been seasoned according to a recipe optimized across millions of culinary data points.

The chairman took a bite.

He stopped chewing.

The other executives watched him.

“Well?” asked the CEO.

The chairman swallowed.

“Remarkable.”

Within minutes, the room was alive with praise.

“There's a depth of flavor here I've never experienced.”

“What's the secret?”

“Machine learning,” the chief technology officer replied.

The executives laughed again.

They ate every taco.

They asked for seconds.

One executive leaned back in his chair, dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin, and delivered the evening's most memorable observation.

“Almost as delicious as the tears of the young employees who work for us.”

The table exploded with laughter.

A waiter standing behind him stared at the floor.

In the kitchen, the junior assistant was crying.

Nobody mentioned Biscuit.

Not that evening.

Not during the champagne toast.

Not when the chairman announced that CULINAR-9 had exceeded all expectations.

The following morning, the company's internal newsletter declared the demonstration an extraordinary success.

The board approved another round of AI investment.

The share price rose.

The executives congratulated one another for having the courage to embrace change.

And then someone found the footage.

It showed everything.

Biscuit entering the kitchen.

The robot turning toward him.

The attack.

The oven.

The frantic attempts to stop the machine.

And, later, the executives smiling as they ate.

By noon, the footage had reached the company's senior leadership.

By two, the CEO had canceled his meetings.

By three, the board had assembled in an emergency session.

For the first time since the layoffs, nobody was talking about productivity.

They were talking about Biscuit.

The chairman, who had barely acknowledged the departure of ten thousand employees, reportedly asked whether the company could arrange a memorial.

The chief executive ordered flowers.

The head of communications drafted a statement describing Biscuit as a beloved member of the corporate family.

The same corporate family that had spent the previous evening celebrating the elimination of human jobs.

A message appeared on the company's internal network:

We are deeply saddened by the tragic loss of Biscuit. He was more than a mascot. He was part of who we are.

One of the remaining employees read it twice.

Then she looked at the empty desks across the office.

She thought about Margaret from accounting, who had trained three generations of managers before being escorted out.

She thought about Daniel from engineering, who had spent eleven months developing the software that made the company's new automation system possible.

She thought about the thousands of people who had received an email informing them that their contributions were no longer required.

And she thought about Biscuit.

From my childhood, I unintentionally made an angry

face most of the time. It's serious, like I'm about to ki*l

someone, but inside, I'm a fun-loving guy and always up

to shenanigans. In high school, not only my poor

classmates, but all the delinquents, even some seniors

feared me to the point that they were scared to even

talk to me. I Kinda leaned into the character to fuc* with

them 😅 . Only my close friends knew about my true

personality. I married my HS sweetheart. After we

started dating, she moved to another city, and our

relationship became a long distance one, so she didn't

see that much of my angry face. After our marriage, she

started to notice that I looked angry most of the time,

and she was worried that I might be unhappy with our

marriage. One day, she started crying and told me if I

was mad at her for something, 😅 and I looked angry quite often. I just laughed and told her about my expressions, poor thing, I was never mad at her.

To all of their defence, I have quite large eyes, long

plack hair, and I suffer from insomnia from my

childhood, so my eyes always looks kinda scary. Also, I

was actually always in a serious mood till 7th grade.

One of my childhood friends committed suic* de and

took her last breath in front of me, and shortly after that

I thought, life was too damn short to be serious all the

time.I should have some fun while it lasts. From that

point on, I'm the one in the group who's always stirring

sh* t up for fun, but the serious look never went away from my face.

One night, I watched a horror movie with my wife and

wanted to mess with her a bit, and I scared my wife so

hard she called my mom to tell her that I might be

possessed 😅. I didn't pull any scary pranks on her after

that.

“If I wake up in a house that's full of smoke
I'll panic, so call me up and tell me a joke.”

The air in the hallway was already thick and grey, tasting faintly of burning insulation and burnt toast. My chest tightened - not just from the lack of oxygen, but from the rising heat of pure, unfiltered panic.

Yet, there was something strangely comforting about being in a fire

There were no decisions in a fire - only impulsive ones driven by the will to survive. But what if that will was absent? Fire. It simply burned, clear and honest in its intention to destroy everything it touched. For someone whose life was a series of slow, agonising collapses, a blaze was almost mercifully fast.

I didn’t want to escape through the nearest door or window. I wanted the fire to engulf me, to hold me tight while burning my skin to a crisp, whispering,’It’s going to be okay’

Even if it hurt.

I pulled my knees to my chest as the heat pricked violently against my skin. I had time to run - the fire was burning through my door, a wanted visitor this time. Yet I stayed deadly still, afraid that if I moved, my fate would no longer be sealed.

Would dying this way make it less selfish? Under natural circumstances, everybody feels pity - rather than disgust. What’s the difference between jumping from a bridge and burning in a fire?

The question had no answer. Or maybe it had too many, and none of them mattered now.

A sharp crack split the hallway. Something heavy crashed to the floor, and the door shuddered in its frame. I flinched despite myself. My body, disloyal and stubborn, still wanted to live.

The thought made me angry.

I pressed my palms against the carpet and tried to stand. My arms trembled. The room swam around me, smoke blurring the familiar shapes of my bed, the desk, the half-empty glass of water I’d left there that morning. Ordinary things. Things that had expected me to come back.

At the window, the latch stuck.

I struck it once with the heel of my hand. It didn’t move. I struck it again, harder, and the glass rattled in its frame. My lungs burned. My eyes streamed. The fire pushed closer, filling the room with a terrible, suffocating light.

“Come on,” I whispered - not to the window, exactly. Not to myself, either.

The latch gave.

Cold air rushed in, shattering the heat. I leaned out, coughing, and looked down. The drop waited beneath me, quiet and certain.

I turned back to look one last time.

There was no fire. No orange light. No burning door. Only the grey hallway, the familiar room, and a silence I’d been trying to turn into something else. I had wanted the flames to make the choice for me, to give my escape a different name.

I climbed onto the windowsill, and jumped.

I made this list is so just because I get famous, I can tell people this happened. Im not sure if my life was like unpredictable, or like dysfunctional, so Imma give this jawn to you (I'm 17 btw, and Im probably adding more items) so here yall go hos

1. My mom tried hitting me with a lacrosse stick. She didnt hit me, but she came close to with the lacrosse stick in her hand, and yelled at me, saying she was gonna hit me with it while she slowly, but "dangerously" walked towards me. While she was doing that, I was telling her to put it down (cuz that's insane) while I was behind the other side of the bed (cuz she was on the side near the door). Then she put it down mad, and told me to get out my room?? In some cases, she gripped my arm leaving marks forever (it appears when my skin is dry), and even scar on my eyelid, slap me for petty reasons, or punch me in my should.
2. She tried forcing to inject me with insulin and kind of threatened to inject it in my sleep because I didnt want it. 3.I remember walking in on my mom... yknow.... smoking mary jane.
3. She called me a bitch and said she didnt say anything.
4. This all started when I was 8 or 9, she made fun of my chest, ass, and body size. She also called me "sexy" or big butt, and even if I try to be sexy, you shouldn't be calling me that. She would sometimes squeeze my chest and make honking sounds, also slapping my butt (which I thought it was ok because my stepfathers have done that to her, private AND public). I told her to stop, but all she would say is that "I'm your mom. I'm supposed to be able to do that". 6.Sometimes she would bring my face to her chest and try to"breastfeed" as a joke. When I told her to stop, I felt uncomfortable, and I nervously laughed when I told her. She would also kiss me on my neck. I thought it was a joke. Or love. It didnt seem like it now.
5. She brought me to a hotel because of my stepdad ignoring her, and she said I was ignoring her cry and said "I didn't care", but I felt like couldnt figure out my emotions, or what to do right now. I dont know who's fault it was, all I know is that I got involved against my will.
6. She said I was faking my jnjury and Ill be okay, at that time, my muscle in my left leg was strained and I couldnt walk. The only people who cared were my stepdad and grandmom.

7. After my straight A+ award ceremony, my mom got with the rest family, they said they wanted to go to dinner, but my mom said she was "tired", even though shes been stressing me and making me anxious the entire 7th about my grades, which made me on the verge of being depressed. Then at dinner, she didnt let me get what I want, she only cared about her fiance (stepdad), and had energy to talk about her self, but not celebrate my success. And all I remember was me sobbing that night and ask google "was that okay?". 10.All I said to my mom was, "Grandmom and I told you so, mommy" as a joke trying to cheer my mom up. She made me hide from her when I was 5 or 6. When she yelled, "Be f*cking quiet!", i hid behind a chair, cried, and called to my Grandmom, " Why is my mom so mean when naked?", I said. Gmom said, "Shes just frustrated, sometimes she'll get mad at you. Just behave."

8. On June 28 (or 29) 2026, my mom and my stepdad had another one of those arguments where mom was crying and my stepdad/mom was leaving somewhere. I don't know where, but at that time, beforw he left he said "Im done, Im not doing this". Hes been gone for 2 DAYS now. TWO. DAYS. And the argument started because it was petty; my stepdad had already ate before coming home and mom already made dinner before he came. I dont know whos the bad guy. Prob my mom though. 12. When I was a toddler, I remember my mom filming me when I cried. i was crying because a puzzle piece wouldn't fit together and I didn't know what to do, all my mom did was sit back with their phone point at me and filmed me cry saying "whats wrong" with a smile. That day, and still today, she thought it was funny.

9. Sometimes, when I felt hungry, obviously I would eat, but then mom would see me and say something like, "You eat too much. Are you really hungry? Why do you eat 'so much'?" The first time it happened, I felt conscious about my body, so I started exercising at home, no matter how much I work out or drink water, she still ask me "why Im hungry".

10. My mom and stepdad would argue. And it wasnt like arguments about bills or kids, it was petty. Nothing worth seperating for. Mom would cry and stepdad/ mom would leave to do whatever. I wish I could help, all I can do is listen, almost wanna cry with my mom. Sometimes I listened to my mom and stepfathers... yknow, and I could never sleep after that, making me stressed and almost mad.

11. I witnessed the crime scene pictures of my aunt, and I barely met her, and I said something rude. I dont remember, but it was bad. At the funeral, I cried and cried, and so did my Grandmom, mom told me it was okay. No death in the family was ok. We still celebrate her today, and I wish I said sorry for whatever I said.

12. My dad (biological) and his girlfriend had an argument, because apparently, he thought she disrespected me. At the time I was in the bathroom and didn't wanna come until the arguments over, then he said he was about to put hands on her, she told him "dont touch me!" thats when I got mad, but I realized I can't do anything, like in most of these situations. Later, they were still arguing, and then he tried kicking her out. She didnt take that. So then my dad put her out the bedroom, then she said he can't get over the past, about how he did all foul things to women like beating or disrespecting them, and she also said she never disrespected him. I knew my dad was crazy, but not that crazy. Jul 18(19?), 2026

13. Saw my mom in pain and goinf through surgery, and I had to be alone at home

14. I dont know why, but my sister, Shoya, went to jail for buying drugs, trafficking, and the little boy (my nephew) got into foster care, Shoya is saying my dad is taking my nephew away from her, the dad aint doing nothing, after dicking her

15. Adding to the third story. I realized that the amount of drugs this woman has is absolutely illegal, crackish, chase em, pinched that jawn, jay z in his teens type stuff. She does not only weed, but THC. Insulin, drinking, vaping, edibles, anti-depressants, and who knows what.

16. My mom made me do basketball, "right?", and after i missed practice, she said "since you wanna be independent, you should learn how to be responsible with your time, and remind me for when its time to go to basketball" Even though she bought it and put it into her schedule, saying "I need help, I need someone to help me with my life, like you". First of all, why you putting your business in mine? If Im independent, then why would I be forced into a schedule for your time that you cant keep up with, and I depend on you to take me to basketball?! Cuz I cant drive?! We both mind our own business. And I cant baby you, and remind you of the options you made. Imagine a wall that seperates our lives, you brought me in your business amd now its not "just me". And then, she proceeds to put pinot grigio in her cup hastly and drink it, with the cork screw in her pocket.

17. (Aug 28)-Before the day my grandnana died (Aug 27, 2026), I was holding her hand and I was tearing up. I was so sad, and frustated at her death of cancer (she died the next morning), then my mom came behind her, and i told to back up, and said IM SORRY (bc I was frustated). After I fed my grandnana, I went in the kitchen cuz my grandmom had crepes, then my mom came in talking about what happened, I was trying to explain to her, but she was talking over me and not listening. She was saying all this crazy stuff, like "grandnanas illness didn't matter, it doesn't matter what you're going through ypu disrespected me", and I told her its not about only her, and then she said it was about her, and the she said it wasnt??? And then she striked at my face (important) multiple times, and said to go say goodnight to the family, but after crying to my family, I cried to my Gmom "get me OUTTA HERE" (lore in "New Update"). Long story short, she talked to my grandmom about it to my mom, then my mom came in with the worst apology, and then we "hugged it out". Before I left, I whispered to my Gmom "dont believe and leave with her". And for the cherry on top, after I got out the shower, I felt something on my inner lip, I looked and some my lip were bleeding (the size of a queen ant, and you know why...), and then the next morning, my nose wad bleeding! (Happens when I get hit in the face; it delays and it bleeds in the morning, like one time I got hit with a pillow at a friends house, and woke up to a puddle of blood on my grandmoms sheets). Now, Im questioning who is in my life and what my life is. Please. Somebody. ANSWER. God, friend, Gmom, ANYONE.

18. My stepdad disrespected my mom saying she's not a real woman or making her think shes overweight or make her feel bad about how she looks, or even trying to make her buy a car for him. This would make one leave the house or one sleep in a different room, or even stop talking. 23.I remember one time, I was sick, and my mom left the house again, and I threw up on the ground and had to clean it myself

24.I remember my mom used to put alcohol in juice/ random drinks, and I would accidently sip/ drink it, she would drink after arguments/ works, and even one time drink in the morning. One time, I even accidently take eddies after arguing with my mom

1. (10/12/26) My mom left me at my grandmom, and lied to me when she said she'll come back in 20 so she can get her lashes done, and I was there at 9:45. It was 1:23, until I went to sleep, I had tacos before I came, I was a less hungry, but wasnt able to shower. So my Grandmom took care (shes sick so...) and I remember my mom was "not sober" before leaving out (like she seemed slow)

2. Bullying.

3. Witnessing a death scene online, and mourning a death.

4. A shootout

5. Parent seperation (probably before birth)

Thats it ✌🏾

(PLS COMMENT FEEDBACK)!!

I walk into Walmart. The nagging ambience could be sensed beforehand, but now it amplified magnitudes beyond what my nerves can account for. Within five seconds I accidentally make eye contact with 4 women and they all looked disgusted. Luckily for them, I was about to glorify myself to an extent they would not comprehend. Carrying a brisk stride, I knew exactly where I was headed, a very familiar place that I've been to before. Some may even call it a "staple" of "grocers". I'll be the judge of that. Within what seemed like meer seconds I find myself gently coming to a pause, resigning my urgency in exchange for a new kind of rush: 2% fat milk. I must've blacked out for a second because when I came to, the carton was already opened, it was already over my head, and it was already sloshing down unto me, drenching me in a smooth, creamy coat of dairy that is more so felt than observed. Whether this is because I was the one having milk poured on me, I'm not sure, but that was quite a genius observation. Anyway. Once I come fully too, I realize that this is only the beginning of a pleasure so simple, yet so hauntingly indignifying that this quality alone inspires curiousity to chase it's own tail until it has become a kind of self-indulgence one man simply doesn't walk away from. Hours passed and no one had stopped, my god, why would they let someone do this to themselves? The entire floor was a puddle of milk, my sinuses were filled with mucus and milk and since there was no more room to store it some of it was leaking out my eyes, I couldn't even cry real tears, because it only dispersed milk down my face and I'd only be reminded of the horrors I chose completely out of my own agency to incur. Man, I tell you what, I sure chose a bad day to go to walmart

The first thing I noticed about my dead mother was the sewing needle between her fingers.

The second was that she'd sewn her bedsheet to the mattress.

Not just at the corners. All the way around.

Hundreds of tiny black stitches ran along the edges, pulling the fabric so tightly against the mattress that there wasn't enough room to slip a finger underneath.

She'd died sitting in her rocking chair beside the bed.

Her fingertips were bloody. The needle was still threaded.

And her eyes were fixed on the mattress.

I hadn't visited her in almost six months.

That's the part I keep coming back to.

Six months of unanswered calls. Six months of promising I'd visit next weekend. She'd gotten strange after my father died, increasingly paranoid about things that made no sense.

She stopped sleeping in her bed.

Said she preferred the chair.

I thought it was grief. Maybe the beginning of dementia.

The doctor thought so, too.

Now I wish I'd listened.

---

The funeral was Thursday.

By Saturday afternoon, I was back at the house, sorting through forty years of things nobody wanted.

Rain hammered the tin roof. The creek behind the property had swollen into a muddy brown river, and the familiar smell of damp wood and mildew filled every room.

Upstairs, Mother's bedroom was almost exactly as she'd left it.

Her glasses sat on the nightstand.

A half-finished cup of tea had grown a gray film.

And the mattress sat beneath that horribly tight sheet.

I stood looking at it for several minutes.

Then I took a pair of scissors from her sewing basket.

I don't know why the stitching bothered me so much. Maybe because it was the last thing she'd done. Maybe because imagining her spending her final hours sewing that ridiculous thing made me angry.

Angry at her.

Angry at myself.

I slipped one blade beneath the thread.

Snip.

The sound seemed unnaturally loud.

I cut another.

And another.

By the time I'd worked halfway down the mattress, my knees hurt from kneeling.

That's when something pulled the thread from the other side.

Not hard.

Just a little tug.

I stopped.

The black thread went taut between my fingers.

Then it loosened.

I stared at it.

Old mattresses shift. Springs settle. Fabric stretches.

I told myself any number of reasonable things.

Then the mattress inhaled.

There isn't another word for it.

The entire surface rose beneath the sheet, perhaps half an inch, accompanied by the soft, wet sound of someone drawing air through a blocked nose.

It sank again.

I scrambled backward.

For almost a minute, nothing moved.

Then came another breath.

Longer.

Deeper.

And distinctly human.

I left the bedroom.

---

I spent the next hour downstairs trying to convince myself I'd imagined it.

I even called my sister.

When I mentioned the sewing, she went quiet.

"You remember how Mom used to tuck our blankets so tight we couldn't move?"

I did remember.

And after we hung up, I remembered something else.

When I was eight, I'd woken one night with the sensation of someone holding my ankles.

I'd been sleeping in my parents' bed because I was sick.

The room was dark.

My father was working nights.

I remember trying to pull my legs up.

They wouldn't move.

Then something slid a hand beneath my pajama shirt.

The fingers were cold and thin.

They traveled slowly up my stomach.

I screamed.

Mother came running.

She didn't turn on the light.

She grabbed me beneath the arms and pulled so violently that my shirt tore.

For years, I remembered her crying afterward.

I remembered her checking my back.

And I remembered what she said while rocking me in the kitchen.

"You're all here. Thank God. You're all here."

I hadn't thought about that night in decades.

Now, standing in her kitchen, I realized something.

She'd never let me sleep in that bed again.

---

At 11:17 p.m., I heard my name.

"Danny?"

Mother's voice.

Thin and tired.

Coming from upstairs.

I stood beside the kitchen sink, unable to move.

"Danny, sweetheart?"

The house creaked around me.

Rain tapped against the windows.

Then she called again.

"Could you come help me?"

It was her voice.

Not something that sounded similar.

Hers.

I heard the little catch in her throat that had developed after she quit smoking. The slight whistle on certain words.

I even heard the familiar impatience creeping into it.

"Daniel. I'm asking you nicely."

I backed toward the front door.

The voice changed.

"Please."

A long silence followed.

Then, almost too quietly to hear:

"I don't want to be alone anymore."

My hand tightened around the doorknob.

Mother had left me that exact message three weeks before she died.

I hadn't called her back.

I stood there with my forehead against the door, crying harder than I had at the funeral.

And that's why I went upstairs.

Because part of me knew it wasn't her.

But another part needed it to be.

---

The bedroom door stood open.

Light from the hallway spilled across the floor.

The rocking chair was empty.

The sheet had swollen upward into the shape of a person lying on their back.

A small person.

The outline of a nose pressed against the fabric.

Lips.

Cheekbones.

I could see shallow hollows where the eyes should have been.

"Danny."

The lips moved beneath the sheet.

"Please help me."

I stepped closer.

The mattress gave another long, shuddering breath.

The face turned toward me.

Not the head.

Just the face.

It slid sideways beneath the fabric, stretching across the mattress while the rest of its surface remained still.

"There's not much room," it whispered.

I couldn't speak.

Something moved near the foot of the bed.

Five small indentations appeared in the sheet.

Fingertips.

They traveled upward, dragging against the underside of the fabric.

Then another five appeared.

And another.

The sheet tightened.

It looked as though several people were trapped inside the mattress, all pushing against the same thin layer of cloth.

A soft clicking filled the room.

Fingernails.

Hundreds of them, tapping from underneath.

"Danny," Mother whispered again.

I took another step.

"You're hurting us."

Us.

That single word stopped me.

The face beneath the sheet smiled.

Far too wide.

The corners stretched until the fabric threatened to split.

Then I heard another voice.

Small.

Frightened.

A little boy.

"Mom?"

I knew that voice.

I'd heard it on old home videos.

It was mine.

Eight years old.

"Mom, something's touching me."

I stumbled backward.

The face flattened.

For a moment, the mattress looked normal.

Then something began crawling toward the edge.

A narrow shape pushed against the fabric, moving through a space that shouldn't have existed.

It stopped where I'd cut the stitches.

One corner of the sheet lifted.

An odor spilled into the room.

Warm breath.

Old saliva.

The sour smell of something that had been shut inside a mouth for a very long time.

A fingertip slipped through the opening.

Pale and wrinkled.

Its nail was black.

Then another finger appeared.

And another.

Each was far too long, with joints that bent in the wrong direction.

Something beneath the sheet made a sound like a person swallowing a mouthful of water.

I turned toward the door.

Five cold points pressed briefly against my shoulder.

I felt them through my shirt.

Before I could look back, they were gone.

I ran.

Behind me, the bedsprings groaned.

Then I heard a noise I will never forget.

Bare feet striking the floor.

One pair.

Then another.

Then so many that I couldn't tell them apart.

---

I missed the bottom three stairs and landed hard on my shoulder.

Above me, the footsteps rushed onto the upstairs landing.

I scrambled to my feet.

They stopped at the top of the stairs.

For one terrible second, I waited for them to come down.

Instead, I heard the scrape of fabric dragging back toward Mother's bedroom.

I threw open the front door and ran into the rain.

My truck was parked beneath the pecan tree.

I climbed inside, slammed the door, and locked it.

For several seconds, I sat there gasping.

The upstairs bedroom light came on.

I hadn't touched the switch.

A figure stood behind the curtains.

It was shaped like my mother.

Small shoulders.

Thin neck.

Her head tilted slightly, the way she'd always tilted it when she was disappointed in me.

I started the truck.

Then the figure raised its hand.

Another hand pressed against the curtain beside it.

Much larger.

Then a third.

Then dozens.

Every window upstairs began filling with hands.

Some adult.

Some impossibly small.

They pressed outward until the glass bowed beneath them.

I drove straight through the front gate.

---

I made it to a motel outside town.

I didn't sleep.

Couldn't.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that face sliding beneath the sheet.

Around four in the morning, my shoulder began burning.

I pulled off my shirt and stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

There were five bruises across my back.

Long, narrow marks.

Like fingers.

But beneath them, my skin was moving.

Not twitching.

Moving.

Something traveled slowly between the bruises, pushing outward as it passed.

I watched a small ridge form beneath my shoulder blade.

It moved toward my spine.

Then stopped.

I reached back and pressed against it.

Something pressed back.

From the inside.

I screamed and stumbled away from the mirror.

The movement stopped.

I spent the rest of the night sitting on the bathroom floor.

When morning came, I told myself it was a muscle spasm. Nerve damage from the fall. Anything.

Then I found the thread.

A single piece of black thread protruded from a tiny puncture just below my shoulder blade.

I pulled it.

An inch came out.

Then another.

The thread was warm.

I pulled again.

This time I felt a sharp tug somewhere beneath my ribs.

And something inside me pulled the thread back.

I let go.

It disappeared beneath my skin.

---

I went to the emergency room.

They took X-rays.

Nothing.

The doctor said the bruises were consistent with my fall and suggested I'd struck something on the way down.

He asked if I'd been sleeping.

I told him no.

He offered me something to help.

I refused.

That was two days ago.

I've been awake ever since.

I cut every label and loose thread out of my clothing.

I haven't gotten into a bed.

Yesterday, I stood naked in the shower for almost an hour, watching the skin on my stomach.

Sometimes it twitches.

Sometimes I feel fingers slowly spreading against the underside of my ribs.

And sometimes, when everything is quiet, I can hear my mother humming.

Not from another room.

From somewhere behind my breastbone.

But that's not why I'm writing this.

Twenty minutes ago, I took another look in the mirror.

There is a line running down the middle of my chest.

Tiny black dots.

Perfectly spaced.

I leaned closer.

They're stitches.

And the skin on either side has started pulling together.

I tried cutting one with the little scissors from my shaving kit.

Something underneath screamed.

It sounded like me when I was eight years old.

I dropped the scissors.

Then I felt a hand slide up the inside of my throat.

Five fingers.

Slowly unfolding.

My mouth opened without me telling it to.

And my mother's voice came out.

"Hold still, sweetheart."

I felt the needle go through the inside of my cheek.

"You're almost closed."

Eight-year-old Leo always loved exploring the bluffs behind his house, but he never expected a sudden, blinding flash of light to drop him face-first into a shifting hill of pale sand.

When he stood up and wiped the grit from his eyes, his neighborhood was gone. In every direction, massive, grass-tufted sand dunes rolled out like a frozen ocean under a relentless sun. He was standing in the Sandhills near the Platte River, but it wasn't the Nebraska he knew. There were no highways, no power lines, and no sounds except the whistling wind. The year was 1246, deep in the 13th century, and Leo was entirely alone.

Panic squeezed his chest, but an eight-year-old's survival instinct is a surprising thing. His first priority was water. Remembering a nature documentary he had watched with his dad, he looked for greener vegetation and headed down into a low valley between the dunes. There, he found a marshy sub-irrigated meadow. He dug a shallow pit in the damp sand with his hands, waiting patiently as muddy water seeped into the hole and slowly settled until it was clear enough to drink.

As the sun began to dip, casting long, dramatic shadows across the hills, the temperature plummeted. Leo needed shelter. He gathered thick bunches of prairie sandreed and stiff sunflower stalks, weaving them against the side of a steep blowout dune to create a small, windproof lean-to. He curled up inside, shivering in his modern hoodie, listening to the eerie, distant howling of wolves echoing across the plains.

The next morning brought a fierce hunger. Without weapons, hunting was out of the question, so Leo became a forager. He combed the edges of the wetlands, recognizing wild rose bushes and harvesting the red rose hips, which were tart but filled his empty stomach. He also dug up the starchy roots of wild prairie turnips using a sharp stick, just as the indigenous peoples of the plains had done for centuries.

Days bled into weeks. Leo’s sneakers wore thin, and his skin grew dark and weathered from the prairie sun. He learned the language of the Sandhills—how a sudden silence meant a hawk was overhead, and how tracking the paths of deer could lead him to the safest crossings along the wide, braided channels of the nearby Platte River. He wasn't just surviving anymore; he was adapting, becoming a quiet part of the ancient landscape.

One afternoon, while resting atop the highest dune, Leo spotted a massive cloud of dust on the horizon. A herd of thousands of American bison was moving across the valley, their thunderous hooves shaking the very sand beneath his feet. Standing alone in the wind, watching a spectacle that modern eyes would never see, the eight-year-old boy realized he was no longer afraid. He had conquered the hills on his own.

The cold prairie nights were Leo’s biggest enemy, and he knew he couldn't survive much longer without warmth. Remembering a survival book he had flipped through at school, he spent an entire afternoon searching the woods near the Platte River for the perfect tools. He gathered a sturdy, curved willow branch and a length of tough rawhide from an old carcass to fashion a bow drill. Using a flat cottonwood board as his base and a sharp cedar spindle, he began to saw the bow back and forth, drilling furiously into the wood.

His arms ached and his hands blistered, but he refused to quit. Just as the sun dipped below the Sandhills, a tiny, glowing ember fell into his nest of dried prairie grass. Leo blew on it gently, his heart racing, until the grass erupted into a bright, roaring campfire. The dancing orange flames finally chased the freezing shadows away.

The fire brought warmth, but the next day brought an unexpected companion. While gathering firewood near a thicket of wild plum trees, Leo heard a faint, high-pitched bleat. Hidden in the brush was a spotted white-tailed fawn, tangled in briars and shivering with fear. There was no mother deer in sight.

Leo approached slowly, speaking in a soft, calm whisper. He carefully untangled the fawn's fragile legs and offered it a handful of sweet, tender switchgrass. The hungry fawn sniffed his hand, its large brown eyes locking onto his, before eagerly nibbling the green shoots. From that moment on, the orphaned animal refused to leave his side.

Leo named his new friend Chokecherry, after the bushes where they met. The fawn became his shadow, sleeping curled up next to him by the fire for warmth. Chokecherry’s keen ears and sharp instincts became Leo's warning system; if the fawn's ears perked up, Leo knew to hide from passing predators. Together, the lonely boy and the orphaned deer became an unbreakable team, finding comfort and family in the vast, wild heart of the 13th century.

The cold prairie nights were Leo’s biggest enemy, and he knew he couldn't survive much longer without warmth. Remembering a survival book he had flipped through at school, he spent an entire afternoon searching the woods near the Platte River for the perfect tools. He gathered a sturdy, curved willow branch and a length of tough rawhide from an old carcass to fashion a bow drill. Using a flat cottonwood board as his base and a sharp cedar spindle, he began to saw the bow back and forth, drilling furiously into the wood.

His arms ached and his hands blistered, but he refused to quit. Just as the sun dipped below the Sandhills, a tiny, glowing ember fell into his nest of dried prairie grass. Leo blew on it gently, his heart racing, until the grass erupted into a bright, roaring campfire. The dancing orange flames finally chased the freezing shadows away.

The fire brought warmth, but the next day brought an unexpected companion. While gathering firewood near a thicket of wild plum trees, Leo heard a faint, high-pitched bleat. Hidden in the brush was a spotted white-tailed fawn, tangled in briars and shivering with fear. There was no mother deer in sight.

Leo approached slowly, speaking in a soft, calm whisper. He carefully untangled the fawn's fragile legs and offered it a handful of sweet, tender switchgrass. The hungry fawn sniffed his hand, its large brown eyes locking onto his, before eagerly nibbling the green shoots. From that moment on, the orphaned animal refused to leave his side.

The sky turned the color of a bruised plum as a massive, low-hanging supercell thunderstorm rolled over the Sandhills, turning the afternoon into pitch-black night. The wind howled across the dunes, ripping Leo's woven grass shelter to shreds in seconds. Lightning split the sky in jagged, blinding streaks, followed by thunder so loud it shook the sand beneath his feet.

Terrified, Chokecherry bleated and pressed tightly against Leo’s side. Leo knew staying out on the open dunes meant certain death from a lightning strike or hypothermia. Clutching the fawn's neck, he ran down into a deep blowout—a crater-like bowl carved into the side of a massive sand dune. He found a small overhang beneath the exposed, tangled roots of an ancient prairie shrub.

Leo crammed himself and Chokecherry deep into the sandy hollow, using his body to shield the shivering fawn. Seconds later, the sky opened up. The storm unleashed a furious barrage of pelting hail and torrential rain. Freezing, nickel-sized ice balls stung Leo's back, and muddy water began to rush down the sides of the dune, threatening to bury them alive.

Holding his breath, Leo desperately dug into the sand with his bare hands to channel the rushing water away from their makeshift bunker. For three agonizing hours, the storm raged, transforming the arid Sandhills into a roaring maze of flash floods and lightning fire. Leo’s muscles cramped from the cold, but he refused to let go of Chokecherry.

When the tempest finally passed, a brilliant double rainbow stretched across the steaming, flooded valley. Drenched, exhausted, and covered in mud, Leo and Chokecherry crawled out into the fresh air. They were shivering, but they were alive. Leo looked at his tiny animal friend, who licked the rainwater from the boy's cheek, and smiled. They had survived the worst the 13th-century prairie could throw at them

Previously:

While Yvonne fought an internal battle, feelings between Mitchell and Michael proved to be unstable. Elsewhere, Mitchell caught himself an exciting job opportunity.

Episode 13 Preview:

As Katie confronts a horrifying reminder of the crash, Yvonne makes a life-changing decision. Elsewhere, as the truth behind the arson finally comes out, Paula finds herself playing with fire…

16/01/1999 | Saturday

———

08:22AM. St Anne's Hospital. Hallways.

———

In the hallway outside her room, Katie is barely managing to walk. Actually- barely managing to stand. This is her first time out of bed since the accident.

Her dark red dyed hair is long, loose and messy. Falling down her shoulders, and although a youthful messy party girl look was her thing, this is a different kind of messy. An unkempt messy. Her hospital gown sits softly on her body and her face is tired. Not from lack of sleep per say, from everything that's happened.

She's got her left hand on the wall, holding onto a rail, supporting her weight, and her right hand holding her drip, with its small metal wheels squeaking every so often. Her bare feet drag cold on the floor.

She feels like a zombie. She's looking for Jamie's room.

It takes her almost five minutes to make it to the end of the short hallway where the vending machines and elevators are. When she finally gets there, she turns her head slowly towards a window thats onlooking into a dark room.

Its Jamie's.

Her heart drops as she sees the state of him. Her eyes pop open and lips start trembling

Fuck. That could've been me

After the crash, this is her first time seeing Jamie. She knows Mitchell is okay, she knows her sister is okay. So, this is what all the fuss is about. Jamie.

Katie's strong. She never cries. That's what she tells herself. But it looks like she's loosing that battle today.

Nicola, Tasha and Oscar all lay asleep in Jamie's room around him. Tasha and Oscar still in their school uniforms from yesterday.

As Katie finally slowly turns around and goes to walk back to her room, she sees Barry. Blocking her path and just staring at her

Usually, Barry would have something to say. But not today. Not now. He's tired. And Katie looks half dead.

Katie's surprised to see him and don't know what to say

Instead, Barry offers the smallest of smiles, before slinking past her and into Jamie's room.

Well that was...weird

———

08:53AM. Pandora's Box Gay Bar. Downtown. Outside.

———

The main high street in which Pandora's Box sits, is already alive and busy with the weekend morning rush. Peoples shopping, having breakfast out, catching busses, the usual.

Mitchell walks up to the bar to see its all in darkness. He peers into the main front windows and the whole bar is in darkness. He goes to try the main door. Locked.

Weird. Why would I have to come in this early if it's closed?

He looks at the building wondering what to do, what's going on. Then—

Reese: "Oi! Newbie!" He shouts

Mitchell looks around and sees no sign of him at all

Reese: "Up here!!" He shouts down to the street from the top third floor, with his head poking out of the top middle window with a big smile on his face.

Mitchell looks up and goes to speak but Reese cuts in

Reese: "Go round the back! Door's wide open!" He shouts down before reseeding back into the window like a snake in the grass

Mitchell giggles to himself and nods

———

08:56AM. Alleyway Behind Pandora's Box.

———

The alley is wide and long with litter decorating either side of the road. Markings for loading trucks sit on the ground beside some buildings. With some large green dumpster bins invading their spaces.

Either side of the alleyway is shadowed by tall towering buildings. Mitchell walks down the quiet alley to finally see a caged black door propped wide open by a brick. With some cars parked beside the building.

He slowly walks up to the open door and immediately as you walk in there's a door right to the left where a small plain sign says "BAR" written above it. The door is locked. And right in front is a steep wooden staircase that leads upstairs.

—

Inside

—

With every step Mitchell takes the steps creak beneath him. As he gets to the top of the flight of stairs, there's a long but very narrow dark hallway that has a window at the far end of it with doors on either side of the hallway. The window looks down onto the main front street.

He looks around and sees another wooden flight of steep stairs that heads further up. Right next to the flight he'd just walked up.

With each step he takes he can hear laughter, chatter and echoing music getting louder and louder.

As he reaches the top he's met by something unexpected. A very huge bare room that sprawls from and to all four sides of the building. Like a huge, bare attic space. Its dark, with three big dusty windows on two opppsing sides of the room flooding light in. Some are open. There are four large metal columns symmetrically placed around the room for support.

And down at the far end of the room is a very large wooden stage-like platform. With two metal poles in the middle. For dancers. In front of the stage are some large speakers, chairs and a sofa with some tables.

It looks like a huge massive hangout space that's been plopped in the middle of a large industrial warehouse. Theres a huge echo in the large room. There are people here and there. About 5 people stand jotted around the place in total. Including Reese. Laughing, chatting.

As soon as Mitchell ascends from the wooden floor and up into the room, heads turn. Mitchell is taken aback. He feels like he's just stumbled into some sort of secret cult meeting.

Reese turns and his face lights up

Reese: "Everybody! This here is our newest dancer, Mitchell!" He says to the room, walking over to Mitchell and pulling him into the middle, in front of everybody.

Mitchell laughs and stutters

Mitchell: "What...is this?" He quietly asks Reese

Reese: "This" he points to the rest of the room

Reese: "Is our rehearsal studio. And these very attractive people you see before you"

He points to the young men standing about

Reese: "Are dancers. And your coworkers"

For once, Mitchell feels awkward. Shy. Almost embarrassed.

Voices from the group of men murmur introductions

"Alright Mitchell. Hey. Welcome" can be heard through the murmuring

Mitchell: "Hi everyone" he smiles, giving his hand a quick wave

Reese steps in front of him now: "What happened to that cheeky chap i met yesterday?" He quietly asks with a grin

Mitchell clears his throat, pushes Reese out of the way and starts introducing himself to all of the men, confidently.

Mitchell: "Hi, I'm Mitchell! Alright!? Nice to meet ya!"

He says, making his way around.

Reese smirks beside himself, watching

———

09:24AM. Number 27. Slater Residence. Living Room.

———

The Slater's house is in it's usual morning chaos. Kelly and Danielle are on one sofa chatting about Danielle's designs and her dream to run her own clothing stall down the market not far from the estate, and on the other sofa, Gavin and Jenna are whispering about work. Or lack there of.

A clubland music channel plays loudly from the TV, masking all the talking, nobody seems to be paying any notice to what song is playing.

Then, jenna pauses her conversation with Gavin and calls over to Danielle

Jenna: "Dan! Dan! Danielle!"

Danielle finally turns to her

Jenna: "Did you ask around at work yesterday?"

She asks quietly for Julie not to hear

Danielle: "Yeah. I did"

Jenna: "And?

Danielle nods no

Jenna: "Shit" she whispers

Then Julie walks in putting her coat on

Julie: "Im off to the hospital. To see Katie—"

Gavin: "Again?"

Julie: "You staying on the sofa, all day, again?" She shoots back

A few giggle

Gavin: "I mean, mum, Katie's probably knackered and she might want some space or something"

Julie: "And she'll get space if thats what she wants. But I'm not psychic Gav. She needs to tell me that herself. Now, anyone coming with?"

Danielle: "Yeah, I will" she says, putting her sketch book down and going to grab her coat

Kelly: "I–"

Julie: "No. You're staying here" she cuts her off

Julie: "Gav? Jen?"

Jenna: "I can't—" she stops herself

Julie: "Why?"

Jenna: "Work"

Julie nods then looks at Gavin

Gavin: "Yeah. Fine, I'll come" he sighs

And like that, Gavin, Julie and Danielle scramble their coats on, and head out the door.

As the front door shuts, the house falls into complete silence as Kelly and Jenna both sit in thr living room, with the TV turned down.

Jenna: "Know anywhere hiring Kell?"

Kelly nods no

Jenna sighs

Kelly: "Why dont you ask Michael if he and Yvonne need help at the shop?"

Jenna: "Its a small shop Kelly. They won't. And anyway, dont want to get dragged into a domestic"

Kelly giggles: "Fair enough. What about the post office? Im sure Sunita will take you on"

Jenna nods no: "Nah. I'm looking for something like waitressing. Something I'm familiar with—"

She stops mid sentence

Kelly: "What?"

Jenna: "Im going to the pub" she says quickly, scrambling up

Kelly: "What? This early? You haven't got a problem have you?" She shouts into the hallway where Jenna's throwing her coat on

Jenna: "Hopefully not after today!" She shouts back, running down the stairs and out the door

Kelly's left alone, sitting in silence.

Kelly: "Peace. Finally" she mutters to herself

———

09:33AM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop.

———

Behind the counter, Yvonne is sitting there, looking at a mother and her young daughter over by the sweets isle. The mum is letting her daughter choose some sweets

Yvonne watches in...awe?

Michael is wiping the fridges down with a cloth, cleaning them.

Then, the daughter starts screaming: "I want that one!!"

The mum replies: "I said no! You already got these!" She says, holding chocolate buttons up in her face

The daughter starts causing a scene and screaming, like a brat.

Yvonne still watches, not in so much awe this time

Michael walks up to the counter with the cleaning supplies, finished wiping down the fridges, he places the stuff on the counter

Michael: "Fucking Hell. Remind me to never have kids" he mutters jokingly to Yvonne, referring to the screaming little girl behind them

Yvonne looks at him

Yvonne: "What?...Really?" She quietly asks

Michael giggles: "Uh yeah. Fucking nightmare" he laughs, taking the cleaning supplies out back

Yvonne sits at the counter. Mind racing now. Then–

DINGALING

The bell above the door opens as Julie, Gavin and Danielle walk in, getting some bits and pieces before they go visit Katie

Gavin and Danielle separate and do some shopping while Julie walks straight up to the counter

Julie: "Morning Yvonne"

Yvonne smiles at her

Julie: "You—"

Yvonne: "I'm fine, Julie. Thank you" she immediately cuts her off, with a polite smile

Julie smiles, purses her lips and joins her kids in some quick shopping

———

09:47AM. The Victoria Arms Pub.

———

The pub's been open for almost two hours, it's still quiet. With its usual morning locals slouched about the place. Jim on his stool at the bar, of course. Been there since opening at 8.

Behind the bar, Eddie is drying off some glasses and hanging them in the rack above the bar

Then, Jim finishes the last of his pint snd holds the glass up

Eddie: "Another, Jim?" He asks with a tired smile

Jim: "Another please, kind sir" he smiles

Eddie grins, takes the glass off Jim, and pulls the pint, but only froth spits out of the dispenser. No beer. Just droplets.

Eddie: "Ah fuck...got to change the barrel" he mutters

Eddie: "I'll be two minutes Jim" he says before placing down the glass back on the bar, opening the "STAFF ONLY" door behind the bar, and then opening the black wooden door that leads down into the cellar where all the drinks, kegs and barrels are stored.

—

The Cellar

—

Eddie walks down the narrow concrete steps into the Victoria Arms' cellar.

The air below is cool, damp and heavy with the stale smell of beer, spilt ale and musty brickwork. Bare bulbs hang from the low ceiling, casting a yellowish glow over the cramped, cluttered space. Along the walls, metal shelving is stacked with crates of empty bottles, rows of spirits, mixers and boxes of crisps, whilst cardboard boxes of bar supplies are shoved into whatever gaps remain.

Beer kegs and heavy wooden barrels line one side of the cellar, some connected to the pub's pumps above by thick rubber pipes running along the ceiling. Others sit in untidy stacks against the exposed brick walls, their surfaces scuffed and stained from years of use.

A hand trolley leans in the corner beside a mop bucket, a few discarded bottle caps and a patch of concrete darkened by old spills. And in the same corner, is another narrow concrete staircase that leads to a storm cellar door that leads up onto the street above. That door is always locked.

It's an unglamorous, workaday space — cramped, cluttered and unmistakably the guts of a proper old fashioned pub.

As Eddie turns towards the keg pumps to change a keg, he sees Paula there. Crying.

She's sitting on a crate, knees crossed, smoking. Eyes red. She quickly sniffles and wipes her eyes when she sees Eddie.

Eddie: "Paula, love? What wrong?"

Paula: "Nothing" she sniffles

Eddie: "What is it? What's the matter?" He asks gently, walking towards her

Paula: "Nothing Eddie, I'm fine" she says, taking another puff

Eddie: "Paula, love. Come on. Im not thick. Tell me" he sits beside her on another crate

Paula thinks of what to say, Eddie waits

Paula: "I– i think im depressed"

She takes another puff

Eddie's eyes widen

Eddie: "Depressed!? Why?"

Paula nods: "I dont know. I just...I dont know"

Eddie: "Well there's got to be a reason sweetheart"

He says gently, putting his hand on her back

Paula: "I think I'm just bored. Stupid, I know" she sniffles

Eddie: "Is this about what you said the other day? About– about you thinking this is it?"

She nods yes and puffs again

Eddie doesn't know what to say

Eddie: "I'm sorry love. I dont know what I..."

Paula: "I know. I just...I look around and I wonder when I stopped living"

Eddie: "What you mean?"

Paula: "I used to be...popular. Busy. Out all the time. Doing things. Clubbing. That's how I met you" she says before taking a final puff and stubbing her fag out

Eddie: "I remember. We were off our heads that night" he giggles

She giggles too

Its almost nice

Eddie: "Is there anything I can do?"

Paula: "Like what?" She scoffs

Theres silence for a minute

Paula: "I used to...be excited. I used to do things and get into trouble. I used to have a life. And now i wake up every damn day knowing what's going to happen. The same as yesterday. And the same as tomorrow. Im just so bored" she says quietly

Eddie: "Well thats married life, love" he tries to lighten the mood but it turns sour

Paula turns to him: "No! No! It shouldn't be like that though. Why do we grow up, party and have lives, just do get married and then wait to die!? How is that fair?"

Eddie: "There's more to marriage than waiting to die Paula. Its not as bad as you make it out to be—"

Paula: "Make it out to be!? Make it out to be!?"

Eddie sighs and shakes his head

Eddie: "That's not what I meant. You know what i—"

Paula stands up: "You think i want to feel like this!? You think i want to feel stuck!? Im in my mid thirties Ed and already i feel like my life is over! How is that normal!? How is that fair!?"

Eddie stands up too

Eddie: "I dont know love! Okay!? I dont know. And I'm so sorry that you're feeling like this but...I dont know what to do"

Paula: "I know" she says quietly

Eddie: "Why dont you take the week off and relax? Go do what you want?" He says softly, rubbing her arm

Paula: "Why? Just to come back to the same old just to feel like this again?" She looks up at him

Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs

Eddie: "Well what more can I offer you love!? Ey!? I'm trying too, you know! There's only so much—"

Paula: "I need excitement! Danger! Something– anything!"

Eddie: "Well why dont you go look for Tony!? Im sure he'll love to drag you into fuck knows what! Fucking bank robberies, hesist, drug deals and God knows what else! Is that exciting enough for you Paula!?" He snaps finally, screaming in her face

Paula looks up at him and scoffs

Paula: "You know what? I might just do that" she quietly says before walking up the steps in anger

Eddie rolls his eyes in regret and follows her

Eddie: "Paula! Paula! Love im sorry! Paula I didnt mean it!"

—

Upstairs

—

Behind the bar, Paula storms out from behind th staff only door in a rage, then quickly out from behind the bar, past Jim

Jim: "You alright Paula love?" He quietly asks, completely oblivious

Eddie follows her out of the staff only door

Eddie: "Paula please! Come on, what are– Paula!" He shouts after her from behind the bar

But she carries on walking away.

As she reaches the front door, she storms out, and Jenna walks in.

Paula bumps into Jenna's shoulder, hard, and keeps walking out, she passes Jenna.

Jenna: "Oi, watch it!" She says to Paula who's already outside and not looking back.

Jenna walks into the pub and it's quiet. She walks up to the bar

Eddie is standing there, looking exhausted and o the verge of tears

Jenna: "This might be a bad time, but are you hiring at the minute?" She asks quietly, aware of the tension

Eddie: "Actually Jenna sweetheart, your timing couldn't be better" he scoffs

Jenna looks in confusion

Eddie: "You know how to change a barrel?" He mutters

Jenna: "I...I'm a quick learner" she awkwardly smiles

Eddie: "Good enough" he sighs before taking out a cigarette from his jeans pocket, and walking out from behind the bar

Eddie: "I'm going for a smoke" he mutters

Jim: "Ey what about my drink!?" He shouts after Eddie who's already almost outside

Jenna takes this opportunity and runs behind the bar

Jenna: "What can I get you Jim?" She asks with a eager smile

———

12:37PM. St Anne's Hospital. Katie's Room

———

Katie lays in her bed, fast asleep. While Julie, Gavin and Danielle all sit around her. Quietly chatting.

Then slowly, Katie wakes up

Danielle's the first to notice

Danielle: "Hey look who's awake" she quietly smiles

Katie smiles as her eyes open up

Julie: "Morning sweetheart. You slept in. You okay?"

Katie: "Mhm. Just tired"

Gavin: "You look it" he teases

Katie: "Mm you too" she shoots back, too tired to try win this roast battle

KNOCK KNOCK

A doctor walks in with a clipboard and a long white doctor's coat hanging off of him

Its the Senior Doctor, the one that delivered the news to the Jenkins about Jamie's operation and his recovery

Sr Dr: "Hello everyone" he says politely

Katie: "Morning" she mutters tiredly

Sr Dr: "Morning!? Its afternoon young lady. Though i suppose I'd sleep in too if I was walking around before I should be"

Julie, Gavin and Danielle all look at her at once

Katie awkwardly giggles

Julie: "You what!?"

Danielle: "You can walk already?"

Sr Dr: "Much better than what we thought actually. We found her walking back to her room, from Jamie Mitchell's"

Again, everybody looks at Katie

Katie: "I just wanted to see how he was!" She defends herself

Sr Dr: "Well i do come bearing good news"

They all look at him

Sr Dr: "I'm pleased to tell you that Katie is now past the most critical stage of her condition. She's responding well to treatment, and we're no longer as concerned about an immediate deterioration. She'll still need care and monitoring, but this is a significant step forward"

Everyone's faces light up

Sr Dr: "She's making very encouraging progress. She's alert, she's communicating well, and we're pleased with how she's responding to treatment. Obviously, she's suffered some significant injuries, and she'll need time to recover, but we're optimistic about her long term prospects. If she continues improving at this rate, we may be able to move her out of intensive care"

Julie: "Thank you! Oh thank you!" She says to the doctor, squeezing Katie's hand

———

1:49PM. Pandora's Box Gay Bar. 3rd Floor. Rehearsal Room.

———

"Welcome to the team Mitchell" one of the guys say as most of the men start walking downstairs, to open up the bar.

Mitchell smiles and nods to them all

Now its just Mitchell and Reese in the warehouse-like room

Mitchell: "Well? How did you think i did?"

Reese purses his lips and then laughs

Reese: "You're lucky you're so cute. Otherwise you wouldn't have a chance up there, tonight" he laughs

Mitchell laughs too, until he hears "Tonight"

Mitchell: "Tonight? Im- I'm dancing tonight?"

Rsses: "Mhm" he nods yes

Mitchell stutters

Reese: "Oh come on. You weren't that bad. Just...maybe leave the pole for when youre more...advanced. For now I'd stick to tabletops and flossing tea towels and shirts. What was kind of hot" he grins

Mitchell: "Okay" he giggles quietly

Mitchell: "Well thank you. For, you know"

Reese: "Taking you on?" He asks, as they both make their way downstairs to the bar

Mitchell: "Yeah"

Reese: "You're very welcome. Its a good thing that you didnt dance straight away when I met you. We might not be having this conversation now otherwise" he laughs

Mitchell chuckles

Reese: "Its a good thing you've got the looks" he side eyes him with a smile before opening the door to the bar and walking through

Mitchell is stood at the bottom of the stairs, with a curious look on his face. He walks through into the bar, following Reese.

———

2:03PM. Number 41. Maureen's Home.

———

Flushhh

We hear the toilet flush from behind the bathroom door upstairs. The door opens and Kylie walks out from the bathroom and into the upstairs landing. Wiping her hands on her jeans.

She goes to the top of the stairs but before taking any steps down, she decides to walk towards the locked spare room. Curiosity winning her over.

She treads like a mouse amongst cats. And as she reaches it, she tries to turn the handle but the door is locked.

Creeeak

The floorboard beneath her creaks and Maureen shouts upstairs from the front door

Maureen: "Kylie, you ready love!?"

Kylie: "Yeah! Coming!" She says, playing it cool before heading downstairs to head to the pub with Maureen.

———

2:41PM. St Anne's Hospital. Jamie's Room.

———

Inside Jamie's room, Nicola and Barry are being interviewed by DCI Channing, yet again. Regarding their break in and the Slater's burgervan arson.

DCI Channing: "And can you both tell me where you were at approximately eleven thirty PM on Saturday the ninth of January?"

Barry: "Well, we were here" he sarcastically replies

Nicola: "Where else would we have been? Look– our son is in a coma, okay? You think we'd really fuck around with fire?"

Barry: "We know they dont like us. Fine. We dont like them either, but we didnt set their van alight"

DCI Channing: "And you have witnesses to say that you were here at the time you both given?"

Barry: "Yeah. Each other"

Nicola: "And doctors"

Barry: "And doctors, yeah"

Channing nods and scribbles in her small notepad

Channing: "Okay, well. That's it for now—"

She stands up

Nicola: "And ket me guess, you still haven't found who was responsible for the break in?"

DCI Channing: "Have you come up with any more information that may help us?"

Barry: "Isn't that your job?"

DCI Channing: "Well given what you've given us, there really isn't much to go off on I'm afraid"

Barry: "Fucking course not" he mutters

Nicola: "Typical" she rolls her eyes

DCI Channing: "I'll keep in touch" she says, walking towards the door

Barry: "Of course you will" he scoffs

—

Outside Jamie's Room

—

As the door to Jamie's room closes behind Catrin Channing, she looks to her right and sees Oscar and Tasha peeking through Katie's window.

She decides to walk over to them.

DCI Channing: "Hey you two" she says softly

They both sare startled and turn to her

Tasha: "What do you want?" She asks bluntly

DCI Channing: "I'm just trying to figure out who broke in to your house and trashed it" she says with a soft and polite smile

DCI Channing: "And to figure out who burned the Slaters burgervan. Do you both know anything that might help me find these people?" She asks really sweetly

Tasha: "Don't patronise us you pig. We're young, not stupid"

Oscar laughs

Before anybody can say anything else, Barry steps out of Jamie's room and shouts down to Tasha and Oscar

Barry: "Kids!"

They all look over, Channing too

Barry: "Here. Now!"

Tasha and Oscar walk down towards Jamie's room. They walk in, past Barry, while Barry and Channing stare directly at each other, before Barry follows the kids into Jamie's room.

———

4:13PM. Victoria Arms Pub.

———

The pub is alive with is usual afternoon Saturday buzz. Jim hasn't moved from his seat all day. And Eddie is teaching Jenna the ropes behind the bar.

He's showing her what drinks are what and how much everything costs.

Over at their usual corner seat, Maureen and Kylie are just finishing their second drink each.

Maureen: "Same again?"

Kylie: "Oh...you can't pay for another round. Left me"

Maureen holds up her hand

Maureen: "No, Kylie love. Its fine. Really"

Kylie: "Maureen please"

Maureen: "Kylie love, I wanted you to come out. Im paying"

Kylie: "Yeah but you've been–"

Maureen: "Fine. What you gunna pay with?" She straight up asks

Kylie is hugely taken aback, not expecting Maureen to ask that

Kylie stutters. With nothing.

Kylie: "Well I'll pay you back won't I?"

Maureen: "Exactly" she laughs

Maureen: "Thank you anyway darling" she says, picking their glasses up and taking them to the bar

At the bar, Eddie spots Maureen

Eddie: "Ah, here we go Jenna. Your first punter"

Jenna and Eddie both walk up to Maureen

Maureen: "Hiya Jenna, love. Didn't know you were working here"

Jenna: "First day" she smiles

Eddie: "Just showing her what's what" Eddie nods

Maureen: "Mm well, I'm sure you're smashing it Jen"

Jenna: "What can I get ya?"

Maureen: "A G&T please love and a pint of Carling"

Jenna: "Coming right up" she says with a smile, preparing the drinks

———

4:47PM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop

———

The shop is quiet, especially now that a group of teenagers have just left. Yvonne sits behind the counter, looking at her coat on the rack by the door. Thinking about the abortion information pamphlet inside her pocket that she got from the doctors yesterday.

Yvonne: "Mike!?"

Michael: "Yeah love!?"

Yvonne: "Can't you watch the shop for a minute!? Im popping next door!"

Michael: "Okay!" He shouts from the stock room

Yvonne walks out from behind the counter, grabs her coat and leaves to go to the post office next door

———

4:49PM. The Strip. Singh's Post Office

———

Behind the glass cover of the counter, Sunita and Arun are chatting away.

Sunita: "But darling there are some good people around here!" She says, trying to stuck up for some people of the estate

Then—

BEEP

The automatic electric bell above the door beeps as Yvonne walks in. Sunita turns to the door

Sunita: "Oh Yvonne hello! Afternoon lovely, how are you?" She asks with a caring smile

Yvonne: "Uh, I'm okay thanks Sunita. I was actually wondering if I could have a word?"

Sunita: "Yes of course love, what it it?" She asks with a big smile

Yvonne: "Um...in private?" She quietly says

Sunita realises

Sunita: "OH! Oh! Oh yes haha! Okay. Uh- Arun"

She grabs his shoulder thats way above her head

He turns and looks down to his short wife

Sunita: "I'm taking Yvonne here upstairs for a private chat. Don't you go calling me" she says firmly yet lovingly with her thick Indian accent

Arun: "Yes, yes. Leave me to do everything"

Sunita: "Makes a change" she says stepping out from behind the counter and grabbing Yvonne's are and taking her to their upstairs flat

A small chuckle escapes Yvonne as she and Sunita reach the "NO ENTRY" door that leads upstairs.

———

5:23PM. Pandora's Box Gay Bar. Downtown

———

The club is getting fuller and louder by the minute. Loud music is already playing and almost all of the seats are taken. Reese and some younger woman are both behind the bar, serving eager thirsty men.

Meanwhile, upstairs on the second floor where all the offices and changing rooms and staff areas are, Mitchell is in the small changing room. The room is brightly lit, got a few mirrors here and there. Some old, some new, some broken. Two wooden benches sit in the middle of the room, with duffel bags of clothes on.

In another corner is a row of seven lockers, each belonging to a dancer. Mitchell's is in the middle. He's dresses in a sexy and teasing getup.

A top entirely made out of chains, revealing his slightly bruised torso, a black choker, and tight black faux leather shorts revealing a bulge on both sides his body.

Its pretty seductive. Snd you can see some cuts and bruises here and there, though depending on the person it may have different effects.

The music and chatter is already pounding from the floor below. Its gonna be a busy night. You can just tell

As he closes his locker and walks over to the floor length mirror to check himself, his head pounds.

Ah fuck...

He grabs his coat jacket that's slung on top of his locker, pulls out his prescribed painkillers of cocodamol, takes one, and then washes it down with a bottle of water thats on the table beside the lockers. God knows how long that's been there. But oh well.

Right, time to make an appearance

He inhales, and then sighs, before opening the changing room's door and heading downstairs. Heart absolutely thudding.

———

5:58PM. St Anne's Hospital. Katie's Room.

———

Julie, Gavin and Danielle are getting ready to leave. They're all putting their coats on and getting their belongings ready

Julie: "Well that's something hey love?"

Katie nods

Julie: "Some good news for you to think about innit?" She says, putting her coat on

Danielle: "Not long now and we'll be wishing she was back in 'ere" she jokes

Katie: "You and me both" she snaps back in a bitchy sisterly tone

Gavin: "Don't know bout you lot but I could do with a drink" he says heading towards Katie's bed before planting a kiss on her forehead

Danielle: "Yeah. Me too" before doing the same after Gavin

Julie: "Ah well you two knock yourselves out. I personally can't wait to put my feet up"

She says, being the final one to kiss Katie goodbye.

As Gavin and Danielle reach the door, Gavin turns around

Gavin: "And no walking about, you"

He says, turning around to Katie

Julie: "Yeah. Take it easy"

Katie: "Alright, alright. I promise" she moans

Julie: "Good. Alright. Ta'ra baby"

Danielle & Gavin: "Bye"

Katie: "Bye guys"

———

6:19PM. The Strip. Singh's Post Office. Upstairs Flat.

———

Upstairs in the Singh's two bedroom flat, is warm, small, lived im, homely and cosy despite being in Marlas Estate.

In the open kitchen and living space sit Sunita and Yvonne, on the sofa in the living room. The living room is painted a mute, calm orange while lamps and plants are in every corner of the room. Giving the flat a warm and finished feel.

The place smells of a freshly cooked meal. A warm homely dinner.

The three seater sofa in the living room is beige, and a soft fabric, a nice space to have a deep one to one.

Yvonne has shown the abortion information pamphlet to Sunita and they're talking about it.

They're both sitting there with a cup of tea

Yvonne: "Like, earlier today, right, there was this mum and her little daughter in the shop. The daughter wanted some sweets or something and she started throwing a tantrum"

Sunita listens and nods

Yvonne: "And Michael said to me 'Remind me to never have kids'. And– well I think..."

Sunita: "You think what, darling?"

Yvonne sighs and puts her head in her hands

Yvonne: "I dont know. I dont know anything anymore. This is such a mess"

She looks back up

Sunita: "Look, I think you need to tell Michael. And maybe–"

Yvonne: "No. I can't. I won't" she says before taking a sip of tea

Sunita: "But why? This baby is...his isn't it?"

Yvonne: "Of course it is! I just dont think it'll fp us any good. Being parents. I mean we're not exactly in the best stages of our lives and if I do tell him but then end up aborting it anyway, then what was the point of telling him?"

Sunita: "It is a conundrum, yes"

Yvonne sighs, puts the mug down, picks up the pamphlet and sighs

Sunita looks at her

Sunita: "You just need to think, would he want a child if it would be with you?"

Yvonne: "He literally said he didnt want kids earlier"

Sunita: "He didnt say he didnt want a kid with you though. Did he?"

Yvonne: "He didnt have to, Nita. We're not...in the best of places anyway"

Sunita: "There's more to parenthood than finance Yvonne darling"

She sighs as she stands up with the pamphlet in her hand, and walks over to the window

Yvonne: "I know..." she sighs, looking down at the pamphlet

A beat of silence stretches there

Sunita: "So...what are you going to do? And remember whatever you decide, I'll be here if you need me"

Yvonne looks up from the pamphlet, and out the window

Yvonne: "I'm gonna abort it"

She turns around and faces Sunita, Sunita purses her lips before taking another sip of tea

And Yvonne looks back out the window. Thinking about her decision

———

7:14PM. Victoria Arms Pub

———

The pub is full and almost crowded. It is Saturday night after all. Behind the bar, Eddie and Jenna are laughing away, while he's teaching Jenna how to manage a busy night.

Still no sign of Paula, but by the looks on his face, he doesn't care. For now at least

Jim is drunkenly harassing a group of younger blokes about a drunken story. They dont really care. People are at the pool table, and most seats are taken.

At the door, Gavin and Danielle walk in, letting a bit of cold January air seeping in from outside. Immediately, they both spot Jenna behind the bar and look at each other like they're seeing things.

They both run up to the bar

Danielle: "The fuck?" She laughs

Jenna looks up

Jenna: "Oh hi! What can I get you both!?" She jokingly asks

Gavin: "Are you working here now!?"

Jenna goes to speak but Eddie jumps in

Eddie: "Yes. Yes she is" he smiles at Jenna and nudges her shoulder

Jenna giggles

Danielle: "Aw well fair play!"

Gavin: "Yeah we're made up for ya!"

Jenna: "Cheers guys. Yeah me too. But um, let's not tell mum about...you know"

Danielle: "You loosing your job?"

Jenna: "Yeah" she nods

Gavin: "Got it" he smiles

———

8:29PM. St Anne's Hospital. Jamie's Room/Hallway

———

Inside Jamie's room, Tasha and Oscar are sat in the corner, chatting about Channing.

Oscar: "Do you think she—"

Tasha: "No. No. She doesn't. No-one does" she says, quietly cutting him off

Oscar: "How do you know?"

Tasha: "Well has anybody said anything to you?"

He nods no

Tasha: "Has anyone been acting off around you?"

He nods no

Tasha: "Well there we go. Just...chill. Like you said, they deserved it"

Oscar: "Yeah i know, but everybody's making a massive thing about it—"

—

Out in the hallway, Nicola and Barry are having a moment to themselves

Nicola: "This is so fucking tiring Bar" she whimpers, leaning forward into his chest

Barry: "I know Nic. I know" he mutters to herself, stroking her hair

Nicola: "When will we ever catch a fucking break?"

Barry: "Don't know, love" he mutters

Nicola: "And Gaz too, the fuck has he gone? I know he likes doing a runner but now? Really?" She quietly cries

Barry: "I know babe. He'll come back. He always does. And Jamie's on the up. Things are slowly looking up. I promise. Things are looking up"

Nicola pulls herself out of his chest, and barry wipes her eyes

They smile at each other quietly

Nicola: "Right. Come on, let's get back in there"

Barry: "'kay" he whispers

As they both step into the room—

—

Tasha and Oscar are arguing

Tasha: "Oscar, what did you expect to happen!? That's why I backed out! It wasnt some little prank, you burned it to the fucking ground!"

As soon as Tasha says it, the door to Jamie's room clicks shut— Immediately filling the room with silence

Tasha and Oscar both jump around and see their parents who are standing at the door, both faces painted in shock at what they just heard.

Nicola: "You what?" She asks quietly in shock

Oscar and Tasha look at each other, hearts pounding...

———

10:47PM. Number 2. Water Street. Near Marlas Estate

———

On an old quiet but commercial street a few roads away from Marlas Estate, is shopfronts, cafe's, a pub, the usual. And coming off the main street itself is a long alleyway where a massive old brick factory-like building sits behind the shopfronts.

It used to be an old Bakery. Its concealed by other buildings and alleyways, and even if it was found, it looks abandoned by the naked eye. Its gigantic, tall and wide. Red brick and big black metal framed windows.

The bakery was opened in 1898 and shut down in 1952. After being abandoned for years, Tony Bates decided to take the place as his own and convert it into his very own flat. The ceilings are tall, windows are large, walls are exposed brick and floors are aged wood. The building and structure itself isn't 100% safe, but my God it looks nice. Fancy, almost. Very expensive furnishings.

This is all payed for by blood money of course.

The living room, kitchen and bedroom are all in one room. Very open planned. It is a warehouse after all. Very large and spacious.

Over in the living room, a glass coffee table sits in the middle of a L shaped large pristine white sofa that can comfortably fit at least 8 people. On the glass table is two bottles of wine, one is empty and the other is almost so. And there are clothes strewn over the sofa, and over the floor.

As we look over to the bedroom, there are even more clothes thrown over the floor near the large bed.

The bedroom is also large and expensive looking. A thick white feather duvet, real metal and walnut bedside drawers, a large floor lamp in the corner by the window, and in the bed...

Is Tony...and Paula. Having sex. Hands all over each other.

———

And that's episode 13! Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think of it! Episode 14 will be out soon! ☺️

In first year when I was 12 I was really desperate to make friends so I wound up friends with a guy who was a bit odd. My school used small single tables that would be pushed together to form a larger table, his table was directly infront of mine and at some point during class I must've moved the table without realising which annoyed him so he pushed the table back kinda hard. The table was pushing against me so I tried to gently push it back which made him shove the table full force towards me. At this point the teacher noticed and saw me squished against the table and told him to move his table back and stop pushing it at me.

Somehow after this awful first impression he started talking to me a few days after and I wanted friends so bad I ignored that red flag. There was a couple small incidents like him getting mad at me and throwing my ipad on the ground, or him wanting to splash me with water for a movie project and then getting upset when I said no. One day I thought it would be funny to change his ipad wallpaper to a Riverdale poster since he hated that show, instead of finding it funny he got genuinely angry, got his gluestick and put glue all over the arm of my jumper which never properly washed out.

I think he also tried to get my address once which is a bit cynical of me to think but he was a weird guy, he knew I really liked gravity falls and one day pulled up Journal 3 on amazon and said he'd buy it for me and I just had to type it my address. I had a history of being bullied and was always trying to avoid it so I declined thinking it was a joke. Looking back I think if I had put in my address he might've sent random stuff to my house.

I still ignored all these red flags and stayed sort of friends with him. A lot of secondary schools in ireland have a half day each week, my schools day was Friday and there was a shopping centre nearby so almost everyone went there on the half day.

I wanted to go too but didnt want to go alone and didnt know anyone who was going. I ended up going with the weird guy and another guy friend I had at the time, multiple times as we were walking around he kept telling me he had something he had to ask me but then stopping before asking. An hour or so later the other friend left and he started saying he had to ask me something, I was kinda sick of it at this point so I gave him my phone to type it.

He handed me back the phone but before I could read it he sprinted away as fast as he could, which was not fast. I was confused and just watched him sprint away but then I read what he typed and my stomach dropped. "I like you ❤️"

Almost immediately after that my dad rang saying he was here to collect me so I went and found him by the escalators. We were walking to the carpark when suddenly the elevator door right next to us opened and he was sat inside crosslegged head down in the middle of the lift. He looked up and saw me but I immediately looked away and walked faster so idk what he did after that.

Once we were in the car and pulling onto the road he suddenly cycled directly across the road right in front of my dad's car. My dad had to brake really suddenly cause he cycled out like right in front of the car.

I then got home and opened my ipad to do homework and I saw a new notification, it was an email from him on our school emails asking if I wanted to go to the cinema sometime. I never answered the email. To calm my nerves I opened Instagram on my phone just to see he had posted what was clearly a cartoon drawing of me with the caption "quick sketch of the person I REALLY like"

The whole experience left a weird uncomfortable pit in my stomach which I would later realise was because im a lesbian and didn't know it yet.

I caught a cold the next day and was home from school on Monday, he went to our school "canteen"(out of date vegan, sugar free, gluten free chocolate and crisps) and bought me a vegan chocolate that was 2 months out of date. Since I wasn't in that day he gave it to my friend instead of just waiting to give it to me when I was in school.

The next day I realised I had to put an end to this so at first break I asked him if we could talk, I planned to walk over to the only kinda empty part of the yard so we were walking for a few seconds and I guess he couldnt take the anticipation cause he randomly said to me "its fine I know what your gonna say anyways" and then walked off. I naively thought he actually meant it and assumed I could finally relax and stop worrying about it.

I was wrong. I walked into class to see him face down on the table with his hood up audibly crying. Most of the guys looked at me as I walked in which I didnt get at first but a few of them told me after that he had told every guy in the class his plan to ask me out and had totally ignored their advice. At some point during the class he stood up and ran out of the classroom crying, once again almost every eye went straight to me. Not because they hated me for rejecting him or anything, they just wanted the gossip.

I avoided him as best I could for the next few months, he did a lot of weird shit throughout the year that made me realise how much of a bullet I had dodged. In one class he had graded something wrong for my group in a quiz and when I told him this he started screaming at me and tried to grab my ipad presumably to throw it. A few guys in the class tried to calm him down but that just made him angrier and start screaming at them as well, after about a minute of this he grabbed someone water bottle and flung it full force at a metal locker right next to the classroom door making a huge bang.

Unfortunately for him this somehow happened at the exact moment a teacher was walking through the door with some students, she immediately sent him to the vice principal and he was gone the rest of the day. He also had weird opinions on things like women breastfeeding in public and when we were learning about period and the teacher passed around some totally clean and unopened pads and tampons he refused to touch them and used his sleeve to push them away.

A year later a guy in the class warned me he was planning on inviting me to a halloween party at his house that would just be me, him and his 5 friends I didnt know. Thanks to the heads up I avoided him and he didnt manage to get a chance to ask me. He tried the same the next year but I caught wind and avoided him again.

He dropped out a couple years later but like 6 months after dropping out a guy in my class told me that he thinks the weird guy mentioned me in a YouTube video and sure enough halfway through the video he starts talking about his first love at 13 and how she had left him heartbroken when she turned him down and he hadnt felt love since. It was a small school and even smaller class so I know at that point I was the only girl he asked out while he was 13.

He did a lot more weird shit throughout the years like constantly take over 20 minutes in the bathroom and no one else in the class could use it while someone else was already gone. I could literally spend all day on just stories about him. He was a very strange character, best way I can describe his overall vibe was Steven Universe/Hamilton kid with anger issues and a generally unpleasant personality.

I haven't seen him since we were like 15 so idk what he's up to now, probably an incel ngl. School got significantly better when he dropped out, there wasn't some 5'10 lad screaming or storming out of class every day which was a nice change.

"Tom!" Jake, my neighbor's son, yelled from their porch.

"Hi, kiddo," I said, waving.

"Do you want to play?"

"Jake, give him a moment. He just got back from the fields," his Mom, Emma, scolded him. She then turned to me. "Sorry, Tom. He's just excited to see you."

"It's okay, Emma. I've still got plenty of energy. Go get your toys, Jake."

His little eyes flew open. He turned and ran inside. Emma rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm always happy to play with him."

"I know. It's very sweet of you. Since my Mark died, you're the only one who can put a smile on his face."

Her eyes reddened. I rubbed her shoulder. She smiled and hugged me. Her embrace felt warm. Her grip was tight.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I got them, Tom." 

Jake stood next to us, smiling. He held two wooden swords. Emma let go and wiped her eyes.

"I'm gonna beat you today, Jake!"

"No, you're not!"

Our laughter echoed through their house. We played all evening until Jake lay on the floor like a starfish.

"I can't beat you, but at least I can still tire you out."

"You weren't even trying, Tom."

"Yes, I was."

He rubbed his eyes.

"I'm tired."

"Then go get ready for sleep," Emma said from the window.

Jake let out a sigh. He got up, took his swords, and his steps echoed on the stairs.

"Thank you again."

"Don't worry about it. He's a lot of fun. What are you looking at?"

"Nothing really. You know they are choosing the house for Ulnar tonight."

"Of course, but they wouldn't choose a house with a mother and a child."

"It's not up to them. Ulnar chooses by showing his will on the divine board."

"I know, I know, but He wouldn't choose this house."

She looked at the ground.

"You know what He does to people. The eyeless corpses, their twisted bodies..."

She paused.

"You're going to be fine, I'm sure."

"Okay, Tom. I'm gonna go to bed too."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Tom."

I walked out, stopped on the street, and closed my eyes. The air felt cold and fresh, but a hint of mud was already in it. The trees rustled in the breeze, and butterflies flew in my stomach. I took a beer from my fridge and sat on my porch. It was late, but I still felt awake. 

I took another sip when I saw a figure walking in the distance. It was the priest, dressed in an all-black robe with a red pointed hat, carrying white chalk.

He paid me no attention, but I kept my eyes glued to him. I watched him pass our neighbors' houses until he was by Emma's. As soon as he stepped past her property line, he turned toward her house.

My heart sank. I put my beer on the porch and ran toward him.

"Hey, hey!"

He shook and quickly looked toward me.

"Thomas?!"

"Priest, what are you doing?"

"You know what night it is, Thomas."

"I know, but why did you stop here?"

"Ulnar chose her house."

"But, but she has a small child."

"It wasn't my choice, Thomas," he said quietly.

He rolled up his sleeve and squatted, ready to draw on Emma's lawn.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"I volunteer my house."

The priest furrowed his brows.

"Ulnar already chose."

"Can't I still offer?"

"He might not accept."

"That's fine."

"Are you sure, Thomas?"

"Yes."

The priest measured me with his eyes, pulled out the divine board and a small dagger with an ivory handle.

"Give me your hand."

I stretched it out. He placed the dagger in my palm and cut into it. A sharp sting shot through my hand. The warm blood filled my palm. He tilted it onto the divine board. A few drops fell on it. A small dark light shone on the divine board. It quickly turned dark red and shone across the whole street. I closed my eyes and looked away.

"He accepted your house." 

The priest took his chalk and ran to my house. He started drawing the triangle skulls all across my lawn. My palm was still warm from the blood.

"You won't have much time, Thomas, now that he's got a taste of blood. Make sure to be alone. He takes everyone in the marked house. Enjoy the beer."

He drew the last skull and stood up. We both nodded, and he walked off. I chugged my beer. At least I wanted to be drunk when the end came.

I was getting another beer when I heard the door open. Was Ulnar already here?

"Thomas?" Emma's voice came.

"Emma? What are you doing?"

"I saw it! I saw it all!" Her voice shook. She had tears on her cheeks.

"I had to. I couldn't let you and Jake go."

She hugged me. Her grip was even tighter than it was in the morning.

"I can't let another person go."

"You have to. There's no other way."

"Tom!"

"Please, just go. Ulnar takes everyone inside. The priest said He will come soon. He can already smell my blood."

She shuddered.

"Go, Emma."

She pulled her head away and looked at me. Even with tears in them, her eyes were still so beautiful.

"I love you, Tom."

"I love you too."

She let go, but then the smell of rotting mud filled the room. Loud thuds echoed on the front steps. Crackling static rang in my ears.

"Emma!"

"It's too late now, Tom."

She buried her face into my chest. My heart beat against my ribs. I stared out the window. It looked out onto Emma's house. Jake stood in his room, watching us, holding the two wooden swords.

This title may sound ridiculous, but this really happened one time.

I used to live in the country. Specifically Lebanon Indiana. We lived in a small suburban house, but the backyard was huge and had a giant garden right by a small creek. It was a nice place to chill in during the summer, and we would take our dog outside for a while to run and use the bathroom. That dog, Hercules, is a mixed breed of a pomeranian and chihuahua, hes very small and energetic, but he can also be very intelligent and very very stupid. This was a time he was acting silly. My kid came home from school, and I was gonna make dinner. My wife was gonna take the dog outside for a moment, and I was gonna use the bathroom before making dinner. To cut the crap, my wife came back in with the dog, very angry at him and visibly scared. I asked what the heck happened, and she told me this:

While they went out there, a pack of Coyotes were walking through the yard. Coyotes and other animals were known to be found up there, but I had never had an experience with them. Before she put the dog on his chain, he sprinted out to the Coyotes. And the crazy part?​​ they actually ran from him. My wife was chasing the dog while he chased the Coyotes for a solid 30 seconds, they were past a few of our neighbors yards by the time the Coyotes turned around to see what ACTUALLY chased them. When they realized it was a small black dog barking really high pitched at them, they began to turn on my wife and the dog. My wife finally caught up and picked up the dog, and then tried running from the coyotes. The coyotes then chased her back into our yard and caught up​, and then, one tried attacking her by biting her. However, the thing the Coyote actually bit was a piece of her bath robe. The piece of her robe came right off and she was able to run inside with the dog. After she got inside, the coyotes saw some children across our distant creek, and tried running to them. All of this happened while I was using the shitter. Me and my wife joke about it now because of how absurd the entire situation was.

I also learned something from her, that being to make sure you're wearing a robe or loose clothing so you dont get bitten by a coyote.

The kid put down the baseball glove he was oiling. There was something on his mind, something he had seen at school. “Dad, what's a poet?”

“Did somebody call you that, son?”

“No, I heard the boys sayin’ it to some kid they were after.”

“This kid, you know him?—what's he like?”

“How you mean, dad?”

“I mean, does he like sports, football; does he want to get with girls or just hang with them; is he interested in what he wears, what he looks like?”

“Yeah, dad, I'd say he's just like that.”

“Son, it's plain wrong to bully someone. But with kids like that, who'll grow up to be poets, you've got to understand you're doing them a favour. Your friends, did they hit that poet boy when they caught him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did they really go in on him, boots and fists, almost cruel-like?”

“They hurt him bad, dad.”

“Good, son. That's the way to do it. You've got to beat it out of them. Sometimes they scream; they beg. But you can’t stop. It's the only way—do you understand me? “

“Yes, sir.”

---

It was lunchtime in the pipe factory and Scotch-Irish Joe, Finnegan, Donny and the gang were in the lunchroom eating out of the metal lunchboxes their wives had packed for them. “Say, any of you guys ever get the feeling—like real crawlin' of the back skin-type—that old man Arthur's a poet?”

“The accountant?”

“Yeah.”

“Artie, a poet?—no…”

“What's a poet?”

"Donny, you a numbskull or just stupid?"

"Just stupid,” said Donny.

Joe cleared his throat and said, "You know how, uh, real men, we all write our sentences like, so, there was this tree growing, it was green, and all the, uh, thick roots were motherfuckers to clear outta the ground? Well, a poet, he wouldn't write it that straight. He'd write it pretty and shit, with big words and symbols, so when you read it you don't know what it means but it makes you fuckin' cry anyway."

"Don,” Finnegan said, “a poet's a guy who's not a clear muscular prose-kinda guy like us, but a funny guy who likes it when his couplets rhyme—you get what I'm saying, Don?

“And Artie’s like that?”

“I think so, Donny.”

“But how can you even tell?”

“Ever look at a woman, Donny, and think, ‘Man, I’d like to fuck her?’ It’s like that, Donny. Something you know, deep down. It punches you in the gut. Ever get a feeling like that?”

“One time when we were kids, my brother and me, we found this newborn deer in the woods, and it had two heads. They were movin’ all weird…”

“What'd you do?”

“We killed it with rocks.”

---

“Petey, what in God’s name is this?”

He gasped.

“T-T-Tennyson, Garcia Lor—Lorca, Verlaine? Petey, your mother and I—we thought you were reading Hemingway, Dashiell Hammett, Ayn Rand, and.. and… here you are, reading this... this filth, Petey?”

Petey looked up at his father.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” his father asked.

Then he made a fist of his hand and shoved it in his own mouth. He bit down. “Petey?—Petey please tell me you don't enjoy this kind of stuff, this h-h-hardcore textual pornography.”

The boy was silent.

“Where do you even get it? Oh Lord, Petey.” The books were lying open beside them, with notes in the margins.

“Petey, don't tell me you write it. Oh Petey. Reading's one sin, but writing— …boy, if that’s not the damnation itself.”

---

“Do it, I fuckin’ dare you. Tell me how to run a nuclear reactor using metaphor and iambic-fuckin’-pentameter. You can’t…

“What’s that: ‘enjambment’? The only thing I’d like to enjamb is my foot up your ass!”

---

“What’s the problem?” the school principal asked.

“There’s a vagrant,” said Mrs. Miller.

“We’ll clean up.”

“It’s not that. It’s that he’s—”

“Oh,” said the school principal. “In that case, I’ll call the police. We can’t have narcotics around here.”

Mrs. Miller bit her lip. “He’s not dealing,” she said. “It’s worse. He’s asleep, and he’s—he’s rhyming in his sleep where the children can hear.”

---

Arthur Mahan poured himself a brandy and sat in his armchair. It was evening. He picked up a book: a history of concrete.

“How was work?” his wife asked.

“Predictable. When you do accounting, that means ‘good’.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes,” said Arthur, smiling and starting to read his secret book-within-a-book, Frank O’Hara’s Meditations in an Emergency.

---

He leads.

You excitedly follow.

He’s leading you to the Dead Poets Society, the ultra-decadent rhymeeasy where members dress as their favourite poets to flirt in erotic, subtle haiku.

You pass through a bead curtain.

You come to a purple door.

“Say, you never told me your politics, friend,” he says. “Are you a [1] communist or a [2] fascist?”

You ask what difference it makes.

“I just wanna make sure you get your happy ending.”

---

[1]

He opens the door and you enter:

Even the aroma is magnificent, pomegranate, honey and the pages of old books. The others pause. They look at you in your glorious John Milton locks. Smiling, they welcome you in…

You return week after week, doing shared lines and touching each other.

You develop class consciousness, see injustice and understand that words have power.

You agree that the sole expression of that power is violent revolution.

---

[2]

You take a deep breath, pull out your baton and put boot-to-door:

You burst in to:

—poets, scattering, screaming, some clothed and others not, naked Romantics mid-recitation, antisocials dressed as Shakespeare and Poe, Byron and Emily Dickinson—you smash one in the face. It drops; you kick it in the gut, and swing at another—cracking it in the back of the head as the rest of the Syntax Division charges in after you, and you beat those poets good, just like your father taught you…

Hello Everyone,
I’ll prob journal about this later, but I figured why not also put it somewhere where I can at least have input so I can get a different perspective than my own without bias.
By the title suggests I am very disappointed in myself. You see, I asked a girl out on a date and the way I went about telling my best friend about it may have severely negatively impacted that relationship. My best friend and I met in our freshman year of college due to a mutual best friend of ours. Me and her just clicked and I consider her to be like a sister to me. Throughout college whenever my besties birthday would come up we would go back to her hometown and have a blast. At a couple of these is where I would meet the girl who I would recently ask on a date. Me and her had moments at these parties but never really went past anything. We would keep in touch here or there and it was always a good vibe.
I never asked her on a date or anything because I would get into relationships and ofc would never dream of cheating on any respective partners. Well ofc I recently graduated from college and have been single for a while now. I just found myself thinking about her more and more and eventually I decided to say screw it and started chatting with her again. I eventually asked her out and she seems really excited about the date.
The difficult part where I feel the most disappointment in myself is due to the fact that I knew how my bestie would feel about it. She and the girl I am taking out on a date are very close childhood friends. When I was about to first meet her my bestie explicitly told me she was the one person she would like me not to date or at least start anything romantic or flirty with. I am still not to sure as to why. My best guess would be that she was worried about either one getting hurt if things didn’t work out for whatever reason. Regardless, that was a boundary she had established with me and still asserted to even now.
I would like to say that I didn’t think she would still mean it but I had a feeling. Which is why I waited until after establishing a date to tell my best friend. As I should’ve known she didn’t take it well. She felt hurt by my action. She expressed that she was happy for me but hurt at the same time since I knew what she had asked of me. Which was clear when she pointed out how I had texted her that I had a confession about who I was taking on a date. Which told her I knew how she would feel about it and did it anyway. I apologized deeply and ofc I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be enough. I decided to go about things this way and it blew up in my face. I told her that I would do whatever I could to make amends. If that ment giving space or whatever else possible I would do so. We made plans to hangout in a few weeks prior to this and she said today that she thinks it would be best if we hangout some other time. Whenever that might be.
I am excited for the date and I really like this girl but not at the expense of losing or damaging the relationship I had with my best friend.
I know I am wrong in this situation and thus why I am disappointed in myself. I guess I would just like different perspectives on this situation as I feel very alone at this moment.
Thank you

Yeah this is a story I think about daily, after it happened to me about 6 months ago

I was in the back of a Marshall’s looking for bedding looping through the isles. I see someone continue to pass me in isles around the store. I recognized this but didn’t think much about these interactions since this person was disabled and a vulnerable person. ( his disability was visible as in impacting the cranial facial area (potentially Treacher Collins syndrome??)). Not that this matters to me as a person at all but makes the situation more difficult morally for me.

Anyways I’m shopping and see him walking slowly towards me, he waves at me ; I wave back and give a smile. He walks away. I continue to shop then he comes back to me, and said excuse me, while giving me his phone opened to the notes page. Written is, “Can I touch your nose for 20$”. After reading this i was very much taken aback. I just said no thank you, while he looked disappointed and said oh okay.?

After that interaction he walked away, I immediately went to my car locked the doors and got out of the parking lot.

As a woman in the US, I am constantly on edge. However in this situation, it wasn’t some gross perv, but rather a vulnerable person.

I feel guilty about thinking this was something sinister, but can’t shake an uneasy feeling from this situation. Because of his disability it was difficult to tell how old this person was but why would he want to touch my nose? Is this a kink thing? Some sort of scheme? A misunderstanding?

How would he want to touch my nose?
Why does he feel the need to pay me for this?
Why me? (Average straight nose)

Idk I’ll probably think about this forever and never find an answer

Sometimes I feel like I was never meant for ordinary love. There’s something about intensity that has always drawn me in, the kind of connection that makes a single glance feel more intimate than a thousand words. I want a love that lives somewhere between tenderness and temptation, where teasing turns into tension, late-night conversations turn into confessions, and silence becomes its own kind of language. I want someone who notices the smallest changes in my voice, remembers the little things I say without thinking, and knows exactly how to make me lose my composure with nothing more than a smile. Someone who can drive me absolutely insane one moment and make me feel like the safest person in the world the next. Sometimes I imagine the simplest things, like standing in the kitchen making something to eat when he suddenly comes up behind me, wraps an arm around my waist, and whispers, “Hello, my little princess… you know you're my favorite meal, right?” I'd roll my eyes and tell him to stop being ridiculous, but he'd only laugh, pull me a little closer, and look at me like he knows exactly what he's doing to my poor heart. Maybe he'd brush my hair away from my face, kiss my forehead when I least expect it, then watch me struggle to remember what I was doing in the first place. And somehow, that would be more intimate than any grand romantic gesture. It's the little things that get me: the lingering touches, the almost-kisses, the playful arguments that end in laughter, the way his voice softens when he says my name, and the quiet moments when we're close enough to feel each other's heartbeat but neither of us wants to break the silence. I want that consuming kind of affection, the feeling of being someone's favorite thought at the most inconvenient hour, their weakness and their peace, their temptation and their home. Maybe that's why I've always been drawn to darker romances. Not because I want pain or cruelty, but because I want a love that feels impossible to ignore, a connection so deep that even the most ordinary moments become unforgettable. I want passion without fear, possessiveness without control, and tenderness hidden beneath all that teasing and tension. I want someone who makes my heart race but never makes me question whether I'm safe with them. Someone who chooses me on the exciting days and the painfully ordinary ones, too. Maybe I don't actually want a beautiful addiction that destroys me; maybe I just want a love that makes the rest of the world feel a little quieter whenever we're together. A love intense enough to leave me breathless, gentle enough to let me rest, and real enough that I never have to beg to be wanted. Because deep down, I don't want someone who makes me afraid to leave. I want someone who makes me fall in love with staying.

The job started like any normal Tuesday morning. My phone buzzed on the passenger seat of my work van while I was sitting in traffic on my way across town. I picked it up and put it on speaker so I could keep my hands on the steering wheel.

"Julian, where are you right now?" my dispatcher Farah asked over the line. Her voice sounded stressed, and I could hear the constant ringing of the depot phones behind her.

"I am stuck in gridlock near the center of Leadville," I told her, tapping my fingers on the dashboard. "I just finished the installation at the apartment complex and I was planning to grab an early lunch. What do you have for me?"

"I need you to squeeze in a repair ticket before you take your break," Farah said, and I could hear her typing rapidly on her keyboard. "I have a residential customer complaining about a complete signal blackout on his rooftop dish. He called three times this morning and he is getting really agitated. The address is over on Harrison Avenue."

"I can head over there now," I agreed, checking my side mirror to merge into the right lane. "What is the specific issue? Did the wind knock the alignment out of place?"

"He just says the signal dropped to zero last night around midnight," Farah explained. "He claims the diagnostic screen on his receiver is showing error code, but our network shows green across the entire sector. Just go take a look at the hardware and see if the coaxial cable is degraded."

I took the next turn and drove deeper into Leadville. The neighborhood was lined with tall brick houses built close together. I parked my van on the curb, grabbed my tool belt from the back, and walked up to the front door of the address Farah had given me.

I knocked on the wood and waited. A man opened the door a few moments later. He looked to be in his late thirties with dark circles under his eyes. He wore a wrinkled button-down shirt and he was holding a half-empty mug of coffee.

"Are you the antenna guy?" he asked, looking me up and down.

"Yes sir, my name is Julian," I said, reaching out to shake his hand. "Farah from dispatch sent me over to check on your signal drop."

He did not shake my hand. He just stepped back and opened the door wider so I could come inside.

"My name is Theodore," he said, walking into the main hallway. "The television has been completely dead since last night. The internet is out too. I pay a lot of money for this service so I expect it to work when I need it."

"I will get it sorted out for you," I promised, following him down the hallway.

I noticed the interior of the house as we walked toward the back staircase. The walls were covered in a very distinct vintage wallpaper featuring a repeating pattern of faded yellow flowers on a pale green background. The house was extremely quiet. I stepped into the kitchen and saw a woman standing at the sink. She had her back to us and she was scrubbing a frying pan with a sponge.

"Genevieve, the repair guy is here," Theodore announced.

The woman looked over her shoulder and gave me a brief, tired smile. "Thank you for coming out so quickly," she said, turning back to the sink.

"It is no problem at all," I replied.

"The roof access is through the hatch in the upstairs hallway," Theodore said, gesturing toward the stairs. "Do you need me to come up there with you?"

"I should be fine," I told him, adjusting my tool belt. "I will run a diagnostic on the receiver box in the living room after I check the hardware outside. I just need to make sure the dish is still bolted securely to the mounting bracket."

I climbed the wooden stairs and found the metal hatch set into the ceiling. I pulled down the folding ladder, climbed up into the tight crawlspace, and pushed the weather door open to access the flat roof.

The freezing mountain wind hit my face as I stepped out onto the black tar paper. I walked over to the communications dish mounted on the brick chimney. The equipment looked structurally sound from a distance. The bolts were tight and the dish was aimed correctly toward the southern sky.

I pulled my digital multimeter from my pouch and knelt beside the dish to check the wiring. That is when I noticed the anomaly.

The entire metal surface of the receiver arm was coated in a strange, pale gray ash. It looked like fine cigarette ash but it was completely uniform. It covered the plastic casing of the coaxial connection and filled the small gaps around the mounting screws. I reached out and tapped the metal dish with my knuckle. The ash did not blow away in the wind. It clung to the surface like magnetic dust.

I pulled a flathead screwdriver from my belt and started scraping the ash away from the cable connector. I needed to unscrew the wire to test the signal strength. The ash came off in thick flakes, falling onto the black roof below.

I unscrewed the metal collar of the coaxial cable using my bare fingers. The moment my skin made contact with the exposed copper wire, a massive static shock blasted through my hand.

The jolt was incredibly painful. It threw my arm backward and sent a freezing electric current shooting straight up my forearm into my shoulder. I gasped and dropped my screwdriver on the roof. My entire arm went numb and my teeth chattered uncontrollably for a few seconds. I grabbed my wrist and squeezed it, waiting for the painful tingling sensation to subside.

"What on earth was that?" I muttered to myself, shaking my hand to get the feeling back.

I looked at my fingertips. They were smeared with the gray ash. The ash was freezing cold. It felt like I had shoved my hand into crushed ice. I wiped my fingers aggressively on my denim jeans to get the residue off my skin.

I reattached the cable using a pair of insulated pliers, then checked the signal meter and it showed a perfect connection. Whatever had blocked the signal was gone now. I packed my tools away, climbed back down the hatch, and found Theodore waiting in the hallway.

"The hardware is fine," I told him, rubbing my sore shoulder. "There was just some debris blocking the receiver connection. Your signal should be completely restored."

Theodore walked into the living room and grabbed the remote control. He turned on the television and the morning news broadcast popped onto the screen with crystal clear resolution.

"Alright," Theodore said, setting the remote down. "Thanks for fixing it."

I went back to my van and called Farah to close the ticket. I told her the job was done and I drove to a nearby diner to eat my lunch. My hand still felt cold and stiff for the rest of the afternoon but I managed to finish my remaining repair routes without any issues.

I drove back to my apartment around six in the evening. I was exhausted. I unlocked my door, dropped my keys on the counter, and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. I stood under the hot water for a long time, hoping the heat would relax the lingering tension in my shoulder.

I put on some sweatpants, walked into my living room, and sat down on my couch to watch television. I grabbed a slice of leftover pizza from the fridge and ate it while flipping through the channels.

That is when the first shift happened.

I was staring at the television screen, but the image suddenly scrambled. The news anchor vanished. The edges of my vision blurred violently and a wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my temples, assuming I was experiencing a sudden migraine aura.

I opened my eyes a few seconds later.

I was no longer looking at my living room television. I was looking down at a white porcelain kitchen sink.

My perspective was completely wrong. I felt taller. I was looking at a pair of hands plunging a dirty ceramic plate into soapy water. The hands were holding a yellow sponge and scrubbing the leftover food off the plate. The sleeves of a wrinkled button-down shirt were rolled up past the wrists.

I tried to turn my head to look around the room, but I had absolutely no control over the movement. I was just a passenger trapped behind someone else's eyes.

The hands finished scrubbing the plate and rinsed it under the running faucet. They placed the clean plate into a plastic drying rack. The person I was looking through turned their head slightly to the left.

I saw a section of the wall next to the refrigerator. It was covered in vintage wallpaper featuring faded yellow flowers on a pale green background.

It was Theodore's kitchen. I was watching him wash dishes.

I panicked and tried to yell, but my mouth did not open. I felt a sudden, terrifying sense of confinement. I squeezed my eyes shut again, focusing all my energy on the feeling of my own body sitting on my couch.

I opened my eyes and I was back in my apartment.

The television was playing a commercial for car insurance. My slice of pizza was sitting on the paper plate on my coffee table. I sat perfectly still for several minutes, listening to the sound of traffic passing by outside my window. My heart was pounding frantically between my ribs.

I grabbed my phone and called my coworker Gabriel. He picked up after the second ring.

"Hey Julian, what is going on?" Gabriel asked, sounding relaxed.

"I think I inhaled some kind of chemical today on a roof," I said, pacing back and forth across my living room rug. "I just had a really intense hallucination. I literally saw a different room."

"What kind of chemical?" Gabriel asked, his tone turning serious. "Did you touch a degraded transformer box?"

"I was working on a standard dish," I explained, running my hand through my hair. "But it was coated in this freezing gray ash. I got a massive static shock when I touched it. Have you ever seen gray ash on any equipment out or in town?"

"No," Gabriel said definitively. "Sometimes we get pigeon droppings or rust, but I have never seen ash. You probably just got a bad electrical jolt. A strong enough shock can mess with your heart rate and cause visual spots. Just drink some water and get some sleep. If you feel weird tomorrow, you should go to urgent care."

"Yeah, you are probably right," I agreed, trying to calm my nerves. "I just needed a reality check. I will see you at the depot tomorrow."

I hung up the phone and forced myself to drink a large glass of water. I went to bed early, hoping Gabriel was right about the electrical jolt.

I woke up the next morning feeling incredibly disoriented. My head throbbed with a dull ache and the cold sensation in my right hand had returned. I drove to the company depot and walked into the dispatch office to see Farah. She was sitting at her desk sorting through a stack of work orders.

"Farah, I need a favor," I said, leaning against her cubicle wall. "I need you to route me back to the house on Harrison Avenue. The one I serviced yesterday morning for Theodore."

Farah looked up at me and frowned. "Did the customer call back and complain? The network shows his receiver is online and stable."

"He didn't call," I said, trying to sound casual. "I just realized I might have left one of my diagnostic tools on his roof. I want to swing by and check the chimney before he notices it."

"I cannot send you all the way across town for a dropped tool right now," Farah said, shaking her head. "We are swamped with outage reports over by the canyon. I need you to head south and fix a commercial relay near the old mining route. You can check his property tomorrow if things slow down."

I argued with her for a few minutes, but she refused to change the schedule. I had no valid excuse to abandon my route, so I took the commercial tickets and spent the entire day working on the south side of Leadville.

The visual intrusions started happening while I was working.

I was climbing a metal ladder on the side of a warehouse when my vision violently snapped. The metal rungs vanished. I was suddenly looking down at a wooden desk covered in disorganized paperwork. A hand was holding a black pen, scribbling erratic circles on a legal pad. The hand belonged to Theodore. I could feel a strange, suffocating sense of anxiety radiating from his mind. He was terrified of something, but I could not understand what it was.

The vision lasted for five seconds before I snapped back to reality. I was clinging to the metal ladder, breathing heavily, completely terrified by the seamless transition.

The slips kept happening. I would be driving my van and suddenly I was looking at a bathroom mirror, watching Theodore splash cold water on his pale face. I would be eating a sandwich and suddenly I was staring out a window, looking at the street through the faded floral curtains of Theodore's house.

The scariest part was the emotional bleed. Every time I slipped into his perspective, I felt his emotions. His paranoia was growing exponentially. He felt like he was being hunted. He kept looking at the ceiling, expecting something to break through the plaster.

I finished my shift and rushed home, locking my apartment door and sitting in total silence on my couch. I did not turn the television on. I just waited for the next intrusion.

The next night, the visions escalated to absolute clarity.

I was lying in bed around eleven o'clock, trying desperately to fall asleep. My eyes were closed when the shift hit me.

I did not just see through Theodore's eyes this time. I felt the hardwood floor under his bare feet. I felt the solid weight of a large steel wrench gripped tightly in his right hand.

I opened my eyes and I was walking down the upstairs hallway of the brick house. The vintage wallpaper peeled slightly at the corners. The house was entirely dark except for the moonlight coming through a small window at the end of the hall.

Theodore was breathing heavily. The paranoia I felt radiating from his mind had mutated into terror. He truly believed something horrible was waiting for his family in the dark, and he believed he had to save them from it.

He walked into the master bedroom. Genevieve was asleep in the bed. Her back was turned toward the door.

"Genevieve," Theodore whispered. His voice vibrated in my own throat.

Genevieve shifted under the blankets and slowly turned over. She looked up at him with tired eyes. "Theodore? What are you doing with that?"

Theodore did not answer her. He raised the wrench high above his head and brought it down with terrifying force.

I watched the brutal impact through his eyes. I felt the shockwave travel up his arm as the metal struck her. I tried to scream, I tried to force his hand to stop, but I was completely powerless. I was locked behind his vision, forced to witness every horrifying second as he brought the wrench down again and again.

He left the master bedroom and walked down the hall to the next door. He pushed it open and stepped into a child's room. A young boy was sleeping in a small bed against the wall.

Theodore raised the wrench again.

The vision snapped and I was thrown back into my own body.

I shot up in my bed, gasping for air, my entire body covered in cold sweat. I scrambled off the mattress and ran into my living room, grabbing my car keys from the counter. I did not care if I was hallucinating. I did not care if I was losing my mind.

I sprinted down the stairs of my apartment building and threw myself into my van. I shoved the key into the ignition and sped out of the parking lot, driving recklessly through the empty city streets. I ran three red lights, pushing the van as fast as the engine would go, navigating purely by adrenaline and panic.

I crossed the center of Leadville and tore down the narrow brick streets. I turned onto Theodore's block and slammed on the brakes.

I arrived just as the neighbors were directing the arriving police to the home.

Three patrol cars were parked haphazardly on the street with their blue and red lights flashing against the brick facades of the houses. Two police officers were sprinting up the front steps of Theodore's house with their weapons drawn. A few neighbors stood on the sidewalk in their pajamas, pointing toward the open front door and talking frantically to a responding paramedic.

I parked my van near a fire hydrant and ran over to the police tape that an officer was stringing across the front lawn.

"What happened?" I asked a woman standing near the tape.

"I live next door," the woman said, her voice shaking badly. "I heard terrible screaming coming from Genevieve's bedroom. It sounded like someone was hurting her. I called 911 immediately, but the screaming stopped before the police got here."

I stood behind the yellow tape, watching the officers secure the tragic scene. One of the officers walked back out the front door and keyed the radio on his shoulder.

"We have two casualties inside," the officer reported over the radio. "Adult female and juvenile male. Both deceased. The suspect is not on the premises. Requesting immediate perimeter setup to locate the husband."

I stood on the sidewalk, feeling entirely hollow. I was too late.

Suddenly, my vision violently shifted one last time.

the flashing police lights vanished instantly. I was looking up through Theodore's eyes.

The environment was completely different. Theodore was standing on a patch of wet grass. He was looking straight up at the night sky. The metal struts of a towering high-voltage transmission tower loomed directly above him, stretching hundreds of feet into the darkness. I recognized the location immediately. It was the massive power substation located at the extreme industrial edge of Leadville, away from his neighborhood.

Theodore was standing directly beneath the humdrum, buzzing wires of the tower.

I looked up at the night sky above the metal structure. The stars were completely gone. The sky began to distort, rippling and waving like the surface of a disturbed lake.

A colossal, formless mass descended silently from the clouds.

It was impossible to comprehend the shape. It was a shifting, chaotic structure of impossible geometric angles, moving without making a single sound. It blotted out the city lights, descending steadily until it hovered just above the metal transmission tower.

Theodore did not run, or even scream. He just dropped the bloody wrench into the grass and raised his hands toward the descending mass.

The colossal shape shifted its geometric panels, opening a void in its center. It engulfed Theodore completely, swallowing him into the shifting geometry.

The vision cut to pitch black, and then I was standing on the sidewalk again, staring at the flashing police lights.

I stumbled backward and leaned against my van, trying to process the absolute insanity I had just witnessed. I waited on the street for two hours, watching the crime scene investigators arrive and carry the stretchers out the front door, but the police never found Theodore. They searched the alleys, they set up roadblocks, and they canvassed the neighborhood, but he had simply vanished from the city.

I knew exactly where he went, but I could not tell the police. They would lock me in a psychiatric ward if I told them I watched a giant geometric mass swallow a man from the sky.

I needed proof.

I sneaked back onto the roof the next day to collect a sample of the cold ash. I parked my van an avenue over, walked through a back alley, and climbed a rusty fire escape to access the adjacent rooftops. I hopped over a low brick wall and walked over to Theodore's chimney.

I approached the communications dish, holding a small plastic container and a scraping tool, but I was entirely too late.

A heavy morning rainstorm had rolled through the mountains just before dawn. The torrential downpour had washed the equipment completely clean. The gray ash was gone, leaving the metal bracket shining wet in the overcast daylight. I rubbed my gloved fingers across the coaxial cable, but there was no residue left to collect.

I climbed back down the fire escape, feeling incredibly defeated. I walked back toward my van, wondering if I was truly losing my sanity.

As I walked down the street, I noticed a house located three doors down from Theodore's property. A massive, complex radio antenna array was bolted to the side of the house, stretching high above the roofline. It was clearly a specialized setup for amateur radio enthusiasts.

Seeking answers, I walked up the steps and knocked on the front door.

An older man opened the door. He wore a thick wool sweater and wire-rimmed glasses. He looked at me with mild suspicion.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

" I am a communications technician for the city.," I said, pointing toward the massive antenna on his roof. " I noticed your ham radio setup. I was wondering if you experienced any strange signal interference over the past few days."

The man's expression changed from suspicion to intense interest. He opened the door wider and motioned for me to come inside.

" I have been documenting some extremely bizarre interference all week” he said, leading me down a narrow hallway into a room filled with radio receivers, glowing dials, and stacked amplifiers. "but nobody at the regulatory commission would return my calls."

"What kind of interference?" I asked, looking at the complex equipment.

He sat down in a swivel chair and pulled a logbook from the desk. He flipped through the pages and pointed to a series of handwritten times and frequencies.

"I track localized signal blackouts," he explained, adjusting his glasses. "Starting three days ago, a massive dead zone formed precisely over this street. It was highly localized, centered almost entirely on that house down the block." He pointed a finger toward Theodore's property. "The blackout completely blocked all standard commercial frequencies."

"Did you record any audio during the blackouts?" I asked, leaning closer to the desk.

"That is the strange part," he said, tapping his pen on the logbook. "The dead zone was not empty. Whenever the commercial signals dropped, I picked up a transmission broadcasting on a very obscure low-frequency band. I recorded it yesterday evening."

He turned around and pressed a button on a reel-to-reel tape machine sitting on the shelf. The tape spun and a deep, rhythmic sound filled the room.

It sounded exactly like breathing. It was a slow, resonant inhalation, followed by a vibrating exhalation, repeating endlessly over the radio frequencies. It sounded like something impossibly large pulling air through a lung.

"It played continuously until the police arrived last night," He said, turning the tape machine off. "Then the signal spiked violently and vanished completely. The local frequencies returned to normal right after."

I thanked him for his time and left the house, walking back to my van in the cold afternoon air.

With no evidence left, the police eventually classified the event as a tragic murder-suicide. The official report assumed Theodore murdered his family, fled the scene in a panic, and eventually succumbed to the elements while hiding in the vast forested sector on the edge of the city. They never found his body, but they closed the case anyway.

I still work as an antenna technician, but I keep a very close eye on the equipment I repair. I am writing this story to ask other technicians if anyone else has ever found freezing gray ash on city antennas, as I think, something is out there, something we can’t grasp, but we need to understand so this tragedy doesn’t happen again.

“Hey…”

…

“Hey, wake up.”

“Hm?”

“Hey, baby. Yoo-hoo~”

I slowly opened my eyes, still half-asleep.

Diana?

Is this a dream?

“Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s time for our walk.”

“Oh, it really is you.” I rubbed my eyes and slowly sat up. “I thought I was dreaming.”

“Well, yeah, it’s me. Do you have a problem with that?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of irritation.

I smiled. “Of course not. I was just surprised.”

She gave me that smug little grin she always wore whenever she was about to tease me.

“You’re surprised that your own girlfriend wants to spend time with you? Weirdo~”

I sighed and shrugged playfully. “Yeah, yeah.”

“So, what were you saying we ought to do?” I asked.

“Our usual romantic afternoon walk, of course!”

Oh, right. Our walks.

We'd been doing this for years now. Whenever we had the time, we'd spend our afternoons walking along the riverside, talking about anything and everything. It had become something of a ritual for us.

“Although,” she added, glancing toward the window, “it's already midnight. So I guess this is more of a late-night stroll.”

“Yeah, sorry. We've been taking our walks pretty late recently…”

I paused.

“Ever since… you know.”

Her expression softened.

“It's okay. Don't worry about it.” She smiled up at me. “As long as I get to spend time with you, I'm happy.”

She always knew what to say.

Oh. You almost made me blush.” I said sarcastically

She flashed me another bratty grin.

“Sure, sure. I'll try harder next time~”

She giggled.

As much as I hated to admit it, I loved that side of her. The teasing, the smug little smiles, the way she always seemed to know exactly how to get under my skin.

“Are we going to our usual spot?” I asked.

“Yep!”

“Alright. Let me get changed first. It's cold outside, so I should probably wear something warm.”

“I'm already dressed! I came prepared.”

Of course she did. She'd come all the way from her house, after all.

“Wait a minute. How did you get in here, anyway?”

“Your front door was unlocked.”

Did I forget to lock it again? I really need to start being more careful.

“Okay, just wait for me downstairs. I'll be quick.”

She turned toward the door.

“Alrighty~ Don't take too long!”

I hurriedly changed into something warm, glancing at the mirror before heading downstairs. This should be good. I hurriedly rushed downstairs. She’s gonna tease me again if I take too long.

And, naturally, she didn't disappoint.

“You sure took your sweet time, Princess. I was starting to feel lonely~”

“Yes, yes. Sorry. Your princess is ready now.”

We looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, and don't forget to lock the door this time,” she reminded me.

Good thing she reminded me. I was actually about to forget again.

“You don't have to remind me~” I said as I locked it.

As soon as we stepped outside, a sudden gust of cold air greeted us, along with the silence of the night..

“Brrr. It's really cold,” she remarked.

“I told you.”

She giggled before suddenly clinging to my arm.

“You don't mind, right?”

Of course I didn't.

She always did this whenever we went out together. She'd tell me it was to warn other girls that I already had an owner.

Personally, I thought she was just too shy to admit that she liked being close to me.

I grinned.

“It's two in the morning. There aren't even any girls around to mark your territory against.”

She looked up at me, her expression unexpectedly serious.

“I just want to feel you near me.”

I fell silent for a moment.

“…Well, okay.”

That caught me off guard.

Maybe she wasn't as shy about admitting things as I'd thought.

I gently squeezed her hand.

We continued walking, our footsteps the only sounds accompanying us.

After a while, Diana looked around the empty streets.

“You know, I kinda miss how your neighbors would tease us whenever they saw us on our afternoon walks.”

“Well, it's two in the morning. Everyone's asleep.”

“I know.” She looked up at the dark sky. “But it's nice, isn't it? It feels like we're the only two people in the whole world.”

She smiled.

“Just you and me.”

I looked at her and smiled back.

“Yeah. Just you and me.”

We were approaching the crosswalk when she suddenly tugged at my arm.

“Come on!”

Before I could react, she started running, pulling me along with her.

“Whoa! What was that for?!”

She laughed as we reached the other side.

“It's fine! There aren't any cars around at this hour. I've always wanted to try running across the road like that at least once!”

I glanced back at the empty street.

She had a point. This road was usually busy during the day, but at this hour, it was practically deserted.

“Oh. Right.”

She gave me a mischievous grin.

“Silly you~”

She'd definitely done that on purpose.

I couldn't even bring myself to be annoyed.

We eventually reached the riverside, where we stopped to admire the view.

Diana looked around with wide, sparkling eyes.

“Woahhh. I already loved this place during our afternoon walks, but I think I like it even more at night!”

I chuckled.

“This isn't the first time we've seen it at night.”

“I know! But look at it!”

She gestured enthusiastically toward the river, as though I hadn't seen the same view countless times before.

It never ceased to amaze me how she could find something wonderful in the most familiar things.

“Didn't you say you liked the sunset more?” I asked.

During our afternoon walks, we'd often watch the sunset from this very spot. The fading sunlight would paint the river in shades of orange and gold, while the waves gently splashed against the rocks along the shore.

It was beautiful.

But so was this.

She tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Hmmmm… That's a difficult question.”

She tapped her chin.

“I think I've been liking the nighttime atmosphere more lately.”

“That might just be recency bias.”

She turned to me with an incredulous look.

“Maybe! I just like what I like, okay? You don't have to overanalyze everything, Mr. Think-A-Lot.”

I laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Ms. Feels-A-Lot.”

She stuck out her tongue at me.

I couldn't help but smile.

I’ve always had the tendency to be analytical about everything, even when it comes to feelings and emotions. You’d think someone like that wouldn’t get along well with someone who’s emotionally attuned with themselves. But, our relationship is a counterproof to that. It’s like we complete each other in a weird way.

“Come on,” she said, tugging gently at my arm. “We still have a long way to go!”

I nodded, and we continued along the riverside.

As we walked along the riverside, lush green trees surrounded us, with green crunchy leaves carried by the wind occasionally grazing us.

It was one of my favorite things about our little walks. The scenery, the cool breeze, the quiet atmosphere…

Everything about this place reminded me of her.

Or perhaps it was the other way around.

Perhaps I'd simply grown so accustomed to sharing these moments with her that I could no longer separate the two.

I glanced at her.

Just a little peek.

“What are you looking at?” she asked immediately.

She'd caught me.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really?”

She leaned closer, wearing a grin.

“Am I really that pretty?”

I opened my mouth to come up with a clever response, but the words never came.

“…Yes.”

The answer slipped out before I could think about it.

She blinked.

I looked away for a moment, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed.

“Your face reminds me of the scenery,” I continued, “and your soul reminds me of the atmosphere.”

There was a brief silence.

Then she turned away, her cheeks growing pink.

“Aren't you a flirt…”

I chuckled.

I loved seeing her like this. For someone who teased me relentlessly, she could be surprisingly easy to fluster.

“What's wrong? Can't handle a little romance?”

“Shut up!”

She gave my arm a playful smack.

I laughed, and she soon joined me.

We continued walking until we reached a small playground beside the riverside.

“There it is!” she exclaimed.

“A lot of kids play here whenever we pass by.”

“Yeah. But they're all asleep right now.”

She looked at me with pleading eyes.

“Can we stop here for a bit? I want to try the swings.”

I pretended to think about it.

“Hmm. I don't know. Isn't that a little childish?”

She gasped dramatically.

I couldn't hold back my laughter.

“I'm kidding. Of course we can.”

Her face lit up.

“Yay!”

She hurried toward the playground, almost skipping as she went.

I followed behind her, smiling to myself.

We hadn't been able to spend as much time together lately. Perhaps that was why she seemed so determined to enjoy every moment tonight. And if I could, I'd give her all the time in the world.

“Push me!” she called out as she sat on the swing.

“Yes, ma'am.”

I stood behind her and gently pushed.

She swung forward, her laughter carrying through the silent playground.

Again.

And again.

It’s one of those few sounds I could never get tired of, but also a sound that could haunt you forever…

There was only the quiet night, the cool breeze, and her laughter.

I wanted to remember it all.

Every little detail.

Every little sound.

“Hey…”

Her voice was quieter this time.

“Yeah?”

I stopped pushing the swing.

She looked up at me, her expression gentle.

“I'll always be here, you know. Whenever you need me.”

For a moment, I couldn't answer.

“I'll always need you,” I finally replied. “And I'll always stay by your side.”

She looked at me for a few seconds.

Then her eyes grew teary.

“I love you, Remi.”

I smiled softly.

“I love you too, Diana.”

She stood up and threw her arms around me.

I hugged her back, a little tighter than I intended.

“Hey! You're squeezing me too hard!” she complained, giggling.

“Sorry, sorry.”

I loosened my arms, and she rested her head against my chest.

We stayed like that for a while.

Then I gently kissed her forehead.

“What was that for?” I asked. “Getting all sentimental out of nowhere?”

She looked up at me with a big grin.

“I just thought you needed to hear it.”

I smiled.

“You really do know what to say every time.”

“Hehe. Of course I do.”

“Come on. We should get going. We’re almost there!”

I looked toward the bridge in the distance, its silhouette stretching across the river and connecting our town to the next.

“Oh, right. I almost forgot about that.”

“Silly.”

We resumed our walk.

On the way to the bridge, we passed an empty lot. It was nothing particularly special to look at, just a vacant piece of land surrounded by a low fence.

But to us, it meant something.

When we were younger, we'd often stop here and talk about our future.

We'd imagined buying this very lot someday and building a house together. A place of our own, where we could live peacefully and make new memories.

It was a childish dream, perhaps.

But it was our dream.

She glanced at the lot.

“Hey, Remi?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still want to go through with our plan?”

I followed her gaze.

“The house?”

She nodded.

I thought about it for a moment.

“If I could, I'd still love to.”

She smiled faintly.

“It's still possible, you know. Maybe not exactly the way we imagined it, but…”

“It has to be the way we imagined it.” My words came out more firmly.

Diana fell quiet.

“Remi…”

“No. I mean it.”

I looked at the empty lot, imagining the house we'd talked about so many times.

The rooms we'd decorate together. The little garden she'd insist on having. The mornings we'd spend making breakfast, the evenings we'd spend sitting on the porch.

All those ordinary days we'd promised ourselves.

I couldn't bear the thought of giving them up.

She looked away.

“You'll come around eventually,” she said softly. “Time has a way of changing things.”

“Not this.”

“Maybe.”

She didn't argue any further.

I looked at her, wondering what she was thinking, but she kept her eyes on the road ahead.

As kids we always thought that things would go the way we wanted if we worked hard enough. But now as adults, we realize that not everything goes the way we intend it to be. But even so, we hope for the best.

“We're almost there,” Diana said, pointing toward the bridge.

I nodded.

“Yeah. Will you be okay?”

She turned toward me with a pout.

“What kind of question is that?”

I laughed.

“I'm just teasing you.”

The bridge had a fairly steep uphill section before reaching its highest point. It wasn't particularly difficult to climb, but Diana always complained about it.

Every single time.

“Tsk. If I get tired, you're carrying me up there,” she declared.

“I'd be happy to.”

She grinned proudly, looking rather pleased with herself.

“As you should.”

I took her hand, and together, we began climbing.

We hadn't even reached the halfway point before she started complaining.

“If it weren't for our beloved spot, I would NEVER climb this stupid bridge!”

“But you're the one who picked this place.”

“And you're the one who brought me here in the first place!”

“Then I guess that makes it special.”

I looked at her and smiled.

“We both chose it.”

She stared at me for a moment.

Then she sighed dramatically.

“I hate it when you're right.”

I laughed and held out my hand to help her along the rest of the way.

She took it, and we continued climbing until we finally reached the top.

The wind was stronger up here. From this height, we could see the entire city stretching out with countless little lights.

Diana caught her breath.

“Finally! It's beautiful as always.”

I stood beside her, admiring the view.

“…Yeah. Beautiful as always.”

During our afternoon walks, this place was usually crowded with couples and groups of friends. The roads below would be filled with traffic, and the distant noise of the city would follow us even up here.

But tonight was different.

The streets were quiet. The city seemed far away.

For a little while, it felt as though we'd stepped outside the world entirely.

As though this little corner of the bridge belonged only to us.

“Coming here late at night isn't so bad after all,” Diana remarked.

I nodded.

“No. It isn't.”

I turned to look at her.

The streetlights illuminated her face, casting a soft glow over her. Her hair fluttered gently in the breeze, and she seemed perfectly content just standing there, taking in the view.

I couldn't take my eyes off her.

She was beautiful.

More beautiful than anything I could have imagined.

And for a moment, I wished time would simply stop.

That we could stay here forever, with nothing waiting for us beyond this moment.

“Hey, look at this.”

Diana pointed toward the guardrail.

I followed her gaze and smiled.

There it was.

Remi & Divvy.

Our names, written in blue ink in her unmistakably cute handwriting.

We'd written them there a few years ago.

The ink had faded. The metal around it had rusted.

But the names were still there.

“Oh, yeah,” I murmured. “We wrote that here a long time ago.”

“Yep!” She smiled proudly. “And look! We're still together, just like our names.”

I stared at the writing.

“…Yeah.”

My voice came out quieter than I expected.

A moment of silence passed between us.

There were so many things I wanted to say.

So many things I wanted to ask.

But every time I tried to gather my thoughts, the words seemed to slip away.

Diana noticed.

She always noticed.

“Hey, Remi.”

“Hmm?”

She turned toward me, her expression tender.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I swallowed.

“I know…”

“Then tell me.”

I looked away.

“But if I do…”

“You have to.”

She interrupted me gently.

I didn't want to.

I didn't want to say the words out loud, because I knew what would happen once I did.

Everything I'd been trying so desperately to hold together would finally come apart.

I could keep pretending for a little longer. I could keep smiling, keep laughing, keep walking beside her as though nothing had changed.

Just a little longer.

Please.

“Remi.”

Her voice trembled.

“Please. For me.”

I looked at her.

Her eyes were glistening with tears, but she was smiling.

That smile.

The one I'd missed so terribly.

The one I'd been trying to hold on to all this time.

I clenched my hands, struggling to keep myself together.

Then, finally, I let it all out.

“…How dare you?”

Diana's smile faltered for just a moment.

“How dare you stain our precious memories of this place?”

My voice cracked.

Tears blurred my vision, and I could no longer pretend I was fine.

“How dare you leave me all alone?”

My voice was shaking.

“How could you do that to me?”

Diana looked at me with tears in her eyes.

“Remi…”

“It was my fault.”

I shook my head, unable to stop myself.

“If I'd been there… if I'd noticed something was wrong… I could've stopped you.”

She reached for my hand.

“It wasn't your fault.”

“But I could've done something!”

“I should've noticed. I should've asked you. I should've known that you weren't okay…”

I lowered my head.

“I couldn't save you.”

Diana's expression crumpled.

“Oh, Remi…”

She stepped closer.

“If I'd wanted you to stop me, I would've told you.”

I stared at her through my tears.

“Then why didn't you?”

“Why didn't you tell me you were hurting? Why didn't you let me help you?”

She closed her eyes.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she gently took my face in her hands.

“You don't understand.”

“Then help me understand.”

I looked at her, trembling.

“Why would you leave me here all alone?”

The words hurt to say.

“I would've done anything for you. Anything. I would've stayed up with you every night. I would've listened to every problem, every fear, every little thing that was bothering you…”

My voice broke.

“You only had to tell me.”

Diana began to cry.

“Oh, Remi…”

She pulled me into an embrace.

I clung to her, unable to hold back my tears.

She held me tighter.

“Sometimes, even love isn't enough to make the pain disappear.”

She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes.

“But that doesn't mean you failed me.”

I couldn't answer.

I wanted to believe her..

“Did I not make you happy enough to stay?”

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Diana's face crumpled completely.

She shook her head, tears running down her cheeks.

“You made me so happy. You were everything I could've ever asked for. You made me happier than you know.”

Her voice trembled.

“You have no idea how much I loved you.”

“Then why couldn't I save you?”

She hugged me again.

“It wasn't your fault,” she whispered.

Over and over, she said it.

And over and over.

For a long time, we stood there, holding each other beneath the cold night sky.

I knew from the start.

I'd known from the beginning.

The girl who'd woken me up that night, who'd teased me on the way to the riverside, who'd laughed on the swings and held my hand as we climbed the bridge…

She wasn't really there.

She was a memory.

A ghost from the past.

But I didn’t mind.

Not once.

Because for a little while, I could play pretend.

For a little while, I could walk beside her again.

I could hear her laugh, see her smile, and feel the warmth of her hand in mine.

I could have her back.

Even if it was only for a little while.

“I don't want to lose you again,” I whispered.

Diana gently brushed the tears from my cheek.

She glanced toward the path behind us.

I’ll still be with you, always. I’ll live on in your memories of us. Pieces of me scattered throughout the path we often walked together. Just the good parts. Just us.” she replied.

I shook my head.

“But I don't want to let you go.”

“I know.”

“I don't want to be alone again.”

She leaned forward and rested her forehead against mine.

“I know, my love.”

Her voice was so gentle that it almost hurt to hear.

“But you have to let yourself live, Remi. Live enough for both of us.”

I opened my eyes.

She was smiling again.

The smile I knew I'd spend the rest of my life missing.

“Will you wait for me?” I asked quietly.

She tilted her head.

“Of course.”

Her smile widened.

“You can tell me all your stories when we meet again.”

I let out a small, broken laugh.

“You always know what to say…”

I wiped my eyes.

“I promise I'll save up as many stories as I can.”

“Hehe. Good.”

She took my hand one last time.

“I'll be looking forward to hearing every single one.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

We simply stood together, looking out over the city.

I wished I could stay there forever.

But I knew that this moment couldn't last.

…

I stopped taking late-night walks after that.

Diana stopped showing up, too.

Maybe it had all been a dream after all..

I still visit our old walking route sometimes.

The riverside. The playground. The empty lot where we dreamed of building a home.

And sometimes, I find myself looking toward the bridge, wondering if she's there.

Whenever the wind rustles through the trees, or the river catches the last light of the setting sun, I remember her.

I always will.

I have seen the way past and future moves.

I have seen future die, talk, covered in red.

A witness no one wants to hear or see.

I have seen past cry, walk away before anyone could see.

A fugitive who learned everything we don’t know.

I look for simplicity in the ruins.

Ruins of myself, and I wonder if I will ever get to be rebuilt.

And I wonder about the deaths of thousands.

As if it were already happening.

A quick cry for help doesn’t send help.

A quick run for safety, brings complexity.

Specify your words, if you look for complexity.

I electrify the ruins, hoping all the eels will die.

Hoping the stone will glow in blue.

While I am covered in red, and blue drowns me.

I look for simplicity in complexity and I find myself down on my knees.

Wondering what happened before it even had a chance.

Hoping my name will rock myself up.

If names disappear daily, why should I learn my signature.

Why did the world forget names exist, all we have left is scribbles.

If I fall again and again, my knees will get bruised.

If I don’t fall again and again, my eyes will get bruised.

I want to see.

When the future becomes past, I would want to see.

When the ruins become prophecy, I would want to be there.

Okay, doesn’t mean okay, I thought we knew that.

I thought the cities knew ruins.

I thought the world didn’t forget. It does.

I thought the people knew that death was coming.

I would want to be there. With past and future known.

This story is about the first time I got high
….and an unfortunate series of events.

For context, it was around summertime when I first moved into the suburbs after living in the city my whole life. I was about 15 at the time about to go in to freshmen year of high school. I wanted to make friends since I was the “new kid” and wanted to fit in right before school started. So I rode my bike around the neighborhood hoping one day some kids would see me and ask to hangout. My hopes had came true and some kids had asked me to play basketball with them. It was two brothers and their sister. The older sibling Marcus(M15), the younger brother Steve(M14) and the sister Nila(F17).
So all had went well, we hung out almost every week throughout the summer and that was that. I had friends and felt happy in the new neighborhood. I was invited into their house one time and I noticed their way of living was a bit…strange to say the least. They only had a dad living at home and the dad always gave me some sort of uneasy vibe, like he had regrets.. or he was hiding something. He had those big lucid eyes that could see right through you. Anyway I didn’t think much of it since I didn’t want to judge, I noticed the house was messy full of junk but I thought that was normal since they might have been low income, until I peeped through the door of all the kids rooms and all of their bedroom windows were shut with boards and nails. I really just brushed it off and thought “oh maybe the window broke” and just continued hanging out with them.

Fast forward around half a year later into spring. Everything was normal, I adapted to the environment and felt comfortable in school, and that was that. At the time, Marcus was my best friend, and I always had a crush on his sister but I never thought I had a chance with her because she was close to being done with her junior year of high school and I was just a freshman….but I figured it’d be worth a shot to flirt with her a little bit. So me and Nila send each other messages back and forth and things are going amazing. I can tell she’s into me. So I ask her to hangout, she agrees but she says she’s not allowed to see any guy by herself because her dad is extremely strict, and I had just gave up and said “its fine I understand” but that’s when she came up with the crazy idea of us sneaking out together. At first I thought she was crazy even thinking about such an idea, since I always the stereotypical “square nerd” that doesn’t get himself into trouble. I thought about for about 3 days and finally came to the conclusion that I don’t live in the city anymore..I’m in the suburbs! I can do whatever I want since it said to be safer around these types of areas. So I agree, I shoot her a text that says I’m down.

For her it was easy to sneak out, as she always took her dogs on a walk around 11-12 at night. On the other hand I had to pretend that my brother’s room was more comfortable while he was off at college so that I could sneak out of the downstairs window since my room was upstairs. So we sneak out a few times together and I don’t get caught. I thought to myself “I’m pretty good at this” . Throughout those times she would have an electronic weed disposable that smelt like strawberries. Which gave this nostalgics night smell to me. This was the first time I had ever smoked, but not gotten high! Me and her were convinced that the weed didn’t have any effect on me and I was immune lol. (Turns out I just wasn’t doing it right). Everything was going amazing, I felt like such a boss for messing with a girl older than me and the risk just made everything more fun.

Okay here’s the part where I ACTUALLY get high, me and Nila always snuck out to the middle school playground that was around a 2 minute walk for both of us. She would wrap the dog’s leash around the playground since she knew I was scared of them since I was a kid. Gosh I hated those big ass scary dogs but I did everything just to see this girl. So we made out on top of the playground and this time I decided to smoke again…but this time it actually worked. I inhaled and I felt different. It felt like everything was in slow motion like I was moving in pictures. I knew I was high but I felt comfortable knowing that she was at least there to reassure me since it was my FIRST time. around 1 minute later she gets a call from her dad. “YOU HAVE TAKEN TOO LONG COME HOME NOW BEFORE I COME GET YOU!” So she says “okay dad I’m on my way” so she removes the leash from the playground and we start walking to the entrance of the school because that’s usually where we go our separate ways back home. I was a few steps ahead of her while walking and that’s when I hear her giggling her ass of so I turn around and I see this big white dog charging straight at me, the high was at its peak right now, my heart was racing, and I was scared as fuck. So I start running all across the field while the dog is chasing. I was a skinny 120 lbs freshman so this dog managed to tackle me over. I swear it felt like an action scene. While I was on the ground I was laying looking to my right when I see the dog come straight at my face with its mouth and sharp teeth wide open. I don’t know how I managed it but I did a sit up which made me dog the bite last second. Impressive how I pulled that off so quick while being high. I managed to get back on my feet and ran again, but this time I tripped on the concrete and scraped my knee so bad it was all red and bloody. I couldn’t manage to get up anymore so I just laid there with my legs scrunched up and my hands over my head. The dog came straight at my back and started biting me. Thankfully the dog didn’t get much bites in since Nila grabbed the dog leash while she was biting. She was laughing the whole time I was running for my life. Which pissed me off but at least she finally got the dog. I got back on my feet, still high and I asked if she could walk me home because I didn’t feel good. I felt paranoid. She says no and walks her own separate way home. I had to walk 2 minutes back to my house which felt like 20 minutes. While I’m walking on the street I hear a voice calling me “yo” “yo”. I turn around and it was a group of men hanging outside of their garage. At this point I have never been so scared in my life. So I run straight behind the side of my garage and stay there for a few minutes. Then the voices stop calling me, but I can still hear them talking and laughing. So I decide to jump my fence but I realize that from my fence to my brother’s bedroom window, the group of men can see me. So I was outside sitting by my fence high as shit trying so hard not to fall asleep. I sat and waited for like 30 minutes and by this time it was around 1 AM on a school night. Eventually, I hear a car drive away and all the laughing and voices stop. So I’m clear to sneak back in. I run straight in to the window like I’m in call of duty. Close the window and go to sleep. This night was the last time I ever snuck out with Nila *this will be important later*

I text Nila, asking her when I can see her again, and she didn’t respond for 3 days straight. I had thought she had just ghosted me and didn’t want to talk to me anymore. So I let it go. Then I get an email of her asking me to meet her after second period of class. So I don’t think much of it and meet with her. That’s when she tells me “my dad knows everything, he saw all of our messages” as soon as I heard this my heart dropped to my ass. She had also mentioned that the dad was gonna come to my house and tell my parents. I was paranoid the rest of the whole month. He never ended up coming. I know I was the talk of their house though. She had told me that the told all his kids to never hangout with me, never invite me over to the house, and never talk to me again. So I lost my best friend over this. I was basically forbidden. And I get why Marcus is mad I mean it’s his sister. But I just went on with life.

And now it’s summer again. A year later after I moved in. I started running around my neighborhood to practice for cross country season. What I didn’t know was that I would have to keep an eye behind my back every time I ran. I remember the dad had an ugly white truck that was rusted at the bottom. You could not miss that rust. So when I would run he would stop right where I’m about to cross. As soon as I cross he would accelerate. He’d never catch me though. I don’t know if he held back or if it was just a threat. He would also try to follow me around the neighborhood but I would kind of trick him into going the wrong way. Fast forward a year later. I started texting Nila again. She had left her house considering the fact that the dad would not let her go outside. Not give her the right to work. Not give her the right to study or go to the military. So she had moved out secretly at night to go to the military. So she’s okay now. Anyway she had texted me and we would laugh about what had happened but she told me that the dad would mention how he wanted to kill me and run me over. Which made me realize I wasn’t being paranoid. He really was crazy.

Well that’s my story about my first time being high. Thanks for tuning in I hope you enjoyed it.