7,268Chapter Twenty Eight
"Oh, but I insist." Vincent remarked quietly as he leaned against the doorway. The fingers of one hand rubbed the knuckles of the other in an almost absentminded way.
William beamed.
Frank blanched.
Tristan appeared next to Vincent. Smiling at the disturbed maid, he suggested, "My apologies, miss. You might want to excuse yourself for the moment. Something bad and possibly bloody might happen soon."
The woman opened her mouth, blinked rapidly, took a step backward, then forward and finally glanced over at Frank. "Do – do you want me to call the police, sir?"
"No. Mind your business and get back to work."
"Oh. Well – well then, I see." She nodded. "Then I think I'm going to take sick leave for the rest of the day if you don't mind, sir. Goodbye and, uh, good luck, sir!" She clasped her hands in front of her, squeezed past Tristan and Vincent, and scurried away from the house before her employer could utter a word.
Frank gaped. He coughed and straightened up, trying to recover his composure. "I'll have you know that she is still a witness. She'll know that you bunch were here, making trouble in my house."
Vincent arched an eyebrow. "And what exactly would she be a witness for?"
"I think he's thinking something along the lines of broken limbs, spurting blood, maybe sudden death?" A voice wafted in from outside the house.
Tristan glanced over his shoulder. "Oh. Jack. Caine. You're still outside?"
Jack grumbled, "Well, we wouldn't be if you two would stop blocking the damn door."
Tristan smiled genially and stepped away, holding his hand out graciously. The two boys filed in and stepped over next to Will.
Vincent didn't budge. Now that there was an opening next to him, his eyes dared Frank. Want to try running for it, old man?
Frank curled his lips and looked away. Vincent smirked, stepped forward and kicked the door shut.
The boys moved away from the lobby and headed off into the living room. Frank followed close behind.
Vincent tucked his hands in his pockets, turning around the room. His eyes glided around, lingering on the coffee table across the room. Frank twisted his neck around sharply, scanning for what had garnered the boy's attention. His eyes narrowed and in two short steps, crossed the room and snatched up what could be a very convenient weapon – a nifty antique letter opener in the design of a bejeweled dagger he had purchased only three months ago. He clutched the handle, his lips twisting in a smug sneer. Oh, no, you don't. "I see my little letter opener has caught your attention. Unfortunately, it's not for sale."
Vincent shrugged. "Eh. Not my style anyway." He stretched his arms out, yawning as he cracked the knuckles of his fists.
Frank's lips thinned and he tightened his grip on the handle. Brandishing it slowly, he barked, "Listen, you. You're all trespassing right now. Just because you brought your little group of friends, it doesn't mean shit. You can't frighten me."
Vincent cocked his head to one side. "We can't?" A languid grin undulated across his face. "Good for you." He took a step forward.
Frank stumbled backward. "You – what are you doing –"
"Do you know what I really, really detest? Sniveling cowards who can't do anything but enjoy hurting those who are weaker than them." Vincent continued prowling forward. "So you know what I really, really enjoy? Thrashing their asses to even the odds out."
Frank's eyelids fluttered rapidly but he scoffed, "Oh, big talk, Mr. Grenford. Truly touching. Please. You say you're some big noble Robin Hood rescuing the defenseless, but really, we all know you're nothing without your parents and your money. I know all about you. The big bully of Crestan High with his pack of friends running the whole school. Who are you to say anything about helping the weak? You're just a hypocrite. You're just like me –"
The boy quickened his steps and Frank stumbled backwards, his words jumbled up in a yelp. Vincent stopped just before the man. "Never ever compare us. I'm not the perverted kidnapper here."
The man turned mauve as he roared in Vincent's face. "Get out! Get out –"
"Or what? You going to call the police on us?" Vincent growled.
Frank Westlane turned quiet. "And what can you do? You can't do anything to me. Or were you planning to run me over or kill me?" His hands shook, but he snickered. "Samantha's mine. The whole world knows it. And as a matter of fact, if you force me, I will get the police here. You think I'm afraid? You think you can get them to somehow search my house while they're here? Idiot. I'll tell you what they'll do. They'll haul you boys out of here for bothering a good citizen, call up your parents including Mrs. Grenford, and you'll probably get grounded or have some of your credit cards cut up. And I? I will get a restraining order against you all and take such good care of my beloved niece. Now that - that will be the end of you bunch. So get out of here before I lose my patience. This is my final warning."
The air was rife with tension. Up to this point, none of the other boys had dared to interrupt. Tristan's face was dark while Jack was trying to restrain himself from punching the bastard's lights out. Caine and Will had both folded their arms in front of them, but the latter was fidgeting. The room was silent except for the sound of birds calling, cars racing outside, distant echoes of car doors slamming, footsteps and clicking of heels against pavement and the moaning of wind.
For a minute, Vincent looked dazed as if he was elsewhere. He stood there, still and quiet, as if taking in all the muted sounds. He jammed his hands in his pockets.
Vincent's grey eyes were wracked with pain as he slowly lowered his head. Frank radiated with triumph.
Will blinked and he gritted his teeth. Taking a step forward, he snarled, "Screw you! We don't care about your little back up team of corrupted police! We can take you! We'll find Sammy and run away and –"
"William!" Vincent barked. "Just be quiet!"
The other boy's jaw snapped shut and his eyes widened. "Oh, I don't believe this –"
"Quiet!"
Will's face hardened and he looked away.
Vincent pivoted his head back to Frank. "We mustn't be so rude to Mr. Westlane. After all, he's right on so many points."
Frank's smile vanished, replaced by an air of wary suspicion.
Vincent scrutinized the letter opener in Frank's hand and his voice softened. "I really can't do anything to you, can I? But you're right. In fact, you're so right, it almost hurts. Because, yeah, of course I always have Mommy Dearest." His eyes flew up in a flash of startling grey.
It happened too fast.
A blur of motion. Vincent pressing forward, arching his fist. Door creaking open. Frank closing his eyes, bringing up his hands. Staccato beat of footsteps. All the boys jerking to attention.
Vincent stopped short, his fist wavering just before Frank's nose. He heaved a quivering sigh of pain.
Blood dotted along the floor as Vincent stumbled backward with his hand pressed against his abdomen.
Tristan was the first to react. "Vince! What the hell?"
Frank trembled, his hands still clutching the makeshift weapon now slick with blood. "I – I don't understand. What –"
Vincent's eyes were closed as he smiled.
Will stammered. "You're bleeding! Are you crazy? Are you committing suicide? Oh my god, is Sammy dead? Are you doing that shit where true love dies together? Oh god, oh god, oh god –"
"WHAT IN THE WORLD IS HAPPENING?"
Everyone froze.
Vincent's grin broadened as he opened his eyes. Turning around to greet his mother, he waved weakly with his free hand. "Hey, Mom. Perfect timing." He jabbed a finger over to Frank. "This man just tried to kill your son." He smiled lopsidedly. "So what are you going to do about it?"
Mrs. Grenford's face was stark white as she watched blood pool down at the base of Vincent's feet. She swallowed as her eyes flew to Frank.
Frank stammered, "I – I can explain! It isn't what it looks like! He – he ran into my letter opener!"
Mrs. Grenford's eyes spat fire. "You asshole."
"Don't you see what he's trying to do? He's trying to manipulate you! He's trying to turn you against me –"
"You stabbed my son!"
"I didn't – it was self defense!"
Vincent stumbled over to the couch and sat down heavily. He coughed, "I didn't do anything to you. I couldn't – remember?"
Will sat down next to Vincent and blanched. "Oh god, Mrs. Grenford. The bastard really cut him! He's bleeding all over the place!"
Katherine Grenford's fingers curled. "I am going to kill you, Frank Westlane. Isn't it enough that you can't handle your own niece? Why did you have to bring my son into this? Why did you have to hurt him?"
"Your son was the one who barged in! I didn't want to hurt him! I –"
"I should never have let you handle this whole mess. I'm starting to feel sorry that I let that poor girl go back to you, you incompetent jackass!"
"It was your son! I didn't mean for any of this to happen –"
Tristan cleared his throat, "Mrs. Grenford, Vincent is really bleeding a lot. It's not an act."
Katherine whirled around to inspect her son. "Oh god." Then she snarled at Frank. "You were never supposed to lay a hand on my children, bastard! I'm going to make sure you never ever see the light of day, you sick, violent -" She whipped out her cellphone. "But first – first, I'm going to call the police and have them lock you up!"
Frank shook his head. "No! Don't you see? He wants you doing this! He wants you to get the police here so that he can take away Samantha! He's just – you can't do this to me!"
Vincent groaned loudly.
Katherine gritted her teeth. "I don't really care anymore about you and your little troubles with your niece. All I know is that my son is now bleeding to death because of you and he needs an ambulance immediately!"
"He's – he's not bleeding to death – I didn't cut him that badly! I – it's probably just a minor scratch. Listen, why don't you just drive him to the hospital? It'll be quicker and – and we can forget all this ever happened – I will never go near your children again – I will move away with Samantha –"
Katherine bared her teeth. "Listen. I might not like Sammy much, but even I know something is terribly wrong with you. Even if my son is that stupid enough to risk impaling himself on your letter opener for that girl, then I suppose it's just a sign that she's really that important to him and that he obviously feels you're a serious danger to her. So to prevent any future incidents of my son running after you again and ramming himself on sharper items, I'm going to resolve this matter once and for all." She flicked open the phone.
Frank lost it.
"Why must you all go against me? Why can't you just leave me be?" He charged forward, still brandishing the sharp letter opener, and Katherine lurched backward in alarm. "Why? Why can't I just get my way?"
Vincent flew up from his seat. Tristan, Caine, and Jack bounded from across the room. Will threw himself forward and it ended up in an ugly pileup. Tackling the man to the ground from all sides, the antique dagger clattered and spiraled off against the marble floor. Frank clawed against the ground, trying to wriggle his way out from underneath the boys. "Get off me! Get off me! Samantha! Samantha! Claire! Claire! Why James! Why is it always James? Why must you all do this to me? I'm going to kill you all. Kill you all!"
Mrs. Grenford gaped, her hand still clutching the phone. "Vincent! Are you underneath Will or Tristan? Get out from there! You're still bleeding! Vincent!"
Vincent croaked, "Are you ever going to get around to calling the damn police?"
"Already did, Vinnie. Are you okay?"
The boys arched their necks up to see two other girls step up next to Katherine Grenford. Caine blinked. "Dani? Carrie?"
Danielle was pale and Carrie was twisting her hands together. Katherine glanced in muted surprise over at her daughter.
Danielle tried to smile, but her hands were shaking as they carded through her ruffled hair. "We - we followed you. We guessed you must have gotten a call from Vincent after you went running from the house and jumping into your car. So we tagged along after you in my car and when we figured out it was probably Frank's house you were heading, I decided to call the police – you know, just in case. Turns out they're not really specific about which Ms. Grenford they answer to. They should be heading over here right about now."
Frank was still screaming and buckling against the boys. "Just listen to me! Let me go! I promise you! I won't do this anymore! Just let me go and get Samantha! Please! You can't do this to me!"
Danielle felt like crushing the heel of her boots into the man's skull, but she ignored him as she picked her way around the group. "Vinnie? Are you alright?"
"I think my blood is ruining Will's shirt and my stomach isn't feeling too happy. Otherwise, I just need Sammy." Vincent's muffled voice wafted through.
Carrie wrapped her arms around her tightly. Her voice sounded strained. "Tristan? Jack? Are you two alright?"
"Fine. Maybe you should step outside for a while. You know you don't like blood," her brother suggested.
"But – but Sammy –" Her blue eyes roamed along the ceiling as if she could probe through the walls.
Jack grunted as Frank jabbed him in the ribs. He socked the man with his elbow before adding his agreement. "Yeah, Carrie. Why don't you head outside and wait for the police?"
Carrie bit her lip forlornly. "I – I guess. I – I'll just be outside then. Call me if – if you need anything?" The girl nodded at Danielle and Katherine before shuffling outside.
Danielle was trying to pry back Tristan's arm to peek at her brother's wound. "Vince, can you just squeeze out of there and let us staunch the blood flow? You're really scaring me."
Mrs. Grenford was peering out the windows, muttering to her herself. "Where are the paramedics? Where the hell are the police? What good can they do if they can't even save someone from bleeding to death? What's taking them so long –"
"Please! Mrs. Grenford, I beg you! Just listen to me!" Frank screamed.
The woman roared, "Just shut up! You don't know how close I am to bashing your brains in –"
"Mom! Vincent's really pale!"
"What?" Katherine scurried forward and kneeled down. Between her and Danielle, they managed to help extract Vincent out while keeping Frank pinned down.
Vincent coughed and tried to sit up. His shirt was dark and matted with blood. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and his skin felt clammy. Katherine moaned and clasped her arms around her son, pushing his dark hair away from his face. "Why did this have to happen? Don't move. Don't move at all. I – I think I heard that moving is bad for wounds so don't move. Okay, Vincent?"
His smile was frail. "Thanks, Mom."
Katherine shook her head and closed her eyes. "What did I do?"
"For being there when I needed you."
Her face was stark white. "Oh for – I didn't know you would do something this drastic. I – I wouldn't have even been here, if you didn't call and gave me that stupid message about running off to save Sammy –"
He nodded. "But at least, this time, I knew that you were going to come. That you will finally listen to me and come for me – even if I had to kind of trick you into following me."
She shook her head, eyes suspiciously bright. "You – oh, Vincent, why couldn't you just –"
Danielle was sobbing now. "Can you two stop this right now? It's really freaking me out. All these little heartwarming scenes always happen right before the main character dies in the movie – and you!" She grabbed her brother's shirt collar. "You definitely can't die on me, brat!"
He grimaced. "Yeesh, get away from me. You're dripping on me." He sighed. "If I knew that all I needed was you or even some random girl to phone in and pretend to be '', then I wouldn't have thought up this whole 'getting injured by Frank so that Mother can get the police on my behalf' plan. It'll be ultimately less painful at least."
Danielle chuckled even as tears spilled down her cheeks. "That's why you should always discuss things with me first because you know that I got all the intelligent genes."
"Hardy har har," Vincent croaked. He shifted, his face contorting in pain. "There's no way in hell am I going to die here. I still have to have the reunion scene with Sammy – which reminds me -" He tried to sit up again, but his mother quickly pushed him back down. "Mom! I need to find Sammy!"
"If you move, you'll probably start up the bleeding again so just let the police come and do the saving."
Vincent shook his head. "So this is why heroes in movies don't bring their mothers along when they rescue their girlfriends." He pressed his hand against his abdomen and winced. "Mom, I don't know how Sammy is. What if she's hurt? What if she's –"
"You will let the paramedics come and treat you. The police will handle the rest," Katherine said firmly.
Vincent moved and clenched his teeth as another wave of pain wracked him. "Danielle? Can you find –"
Sirens blared in a shrill, surging rhythm. Carrie ran in. "The police! They're here! They're finally here!"
Katherine looked up. "And the paramedics? Is there an ambulance?"
"Yes. Yes, I think so!"
Frank shook his head. "You can't do this. Give up. They – they can't search my house without a search warrant. You can't do this. You all can't beat me."
Caine retorted, "Shut up, asshole. You're in no position to talk now."
Will sighed, "I can't believe the longest time I've ever spent lying on top of a man is here. Just block it out, Will. Traumatic memories are a no no."
A group of police officers barreled through the doors then. "What the –"
One thin man with a thick brown moustache stepped forward. "Mrs. Grenford, what's going on?"
Katherine stood up, adjusted her blood stained suit and cleared her throat. "Sergeant Davis, about time."
The officers actually appeared chagrined.
She continued, "My son is hurt. He needs medical attention. As for Frank Westlane –" She paused to shoot the man a particularly nasty glare. "- he's the one who stabbed my son and then tried to hurt me with that letter opener over there. Vincent's friends are, uh, currently restraining him."
"I – I see." Sergeant Davis nodded and two of his men stepped forward to fish Frank out. They handcuffed him while reading him his rights. Several paramedics filed in through the door then and Mrs. Grenford quickly waved them over.
Vincent shook his head. "No."
"Vincent!"
"Sammy. Get Sammy first. I'm not going to sit here and get bandaged up while Sammy's still alone and frightened in some room in this very house." He shook his head again while pressing his hand tight against his wound. "Find her first."
Frank shook his head and sniggered darkly. "Samantha's dead."
If it was even possible, Vincent's complexion turned even more white. "What the hell did you just say?"
Frank laughed. "If she's not dead, then she should be close to it. I hope she ends up like her damn brother. If not, then – then I hope she ends up a raving lunatic. I hope she will remember this always and never forget the pain and the knowledge. Reality! So bitter! So red! Her hair! Ah, her hair – her blood. Beautiful Samantha. Beautiful Claire. Then where will you be, huh? Where will you be, James? You will never save her from me. You will all die. You –"
Vincent shot up from his seat on the couch and slammed his fist into Frank's face, crushing the words back into his throat. He continued pummeling and pounding until two other officers finally managed to pull him off. Frank hung limply in the grip of Sergeant Davis, blood dripping from his nose. Still, Vincent strained forward.
Katherine frantically spoke, "Vincent, please! You're going to hurt yourself!"
Frank mumbled feebly, "I should have bashed her head in more, had I known all this will happen."
The sound of blood roared in Vincent's ears and he shrugged off the officers. This time, instead of reaching for Frank's neck, he turned around and ran out of the room.
"Vincent!"
He ignored it all. Slipping and sliding across the marble floor that was now polished with Frank and his blood, he ran. Through the lobby and up the stairs, he knew he left a trail a crimson blood behind – like gingerbread crumbs. Sammy once told him that she didn't like the story of Hansel and Gretel – that she felt it was too gruesome for children.
He scrambled up the stairs, taking them by two. He stumbled and tripped at certain points so he half crawled, half hopped the steps. His fingers grasped the steps before him as his legs pumped behind. It reminded him of how he went up the stairs as a child, darting up the steps. He had always felt so fast, his hands slapping against each step as he propelled himself forward. So how come now, he felt so very slow?
"Vincent!"
His breathing was in short gasps and he wondered why. He was never in such bad shape. He could probably have picked up Sammy and ran up and down the steps without so much as heaving a breath. Sammy. Chills ran up his spine. Sammy, you're too light. You're too thin. You're too small. You're too fragile. Frank is wrong though. You're okay. You're okay. Sammy.
He bounded up the steps and found himself facing a long hallway. Doors. So many doors. But they didn't feel right.
His eyes brushed past them and he found that there was another set of stairs. Third floor? Yes.
"Sir! Please! Let's stop the bleeding first!"
"Vinnie! Stop this! You're being childish!"
Childish? Spoiled. Sammy called me spoiled, but I'm trying. I'm trying to be better. Sammy.
He ran up the steps and turned around at the final landing. His hand clung to the railing as he gasped. Once again, there were several doors. But it was the one all the way down the hall that drew his attention.
His smile quavered as he staggered forward.
"Of course I return your . . . feelings. You - you like me, too?"
"So . . . we're together then."
"Guess so."
"Cool."
"Yup."
He raised his hand toward the doorknob.
She laughed. "You're so contradictory."
"And you're being a tease. What happened to my blushing, shy Sammy?"
A soft smile touched her lips. "Still here - even though you can be such a bad influence."
His hand closed around the knob. Sammy. Sammy. Sammy. The knob twisted and – didn't budge.
Vincent closed his eyes. A sudden desperate urge to laugh pounded through him. Of course it would be locked. He shook his head and then backed up a few paces before kicking the door. Pain jolted through his foot and his teeth chattered. The door was immobile. Damn. Not as easy as it looks in the movies. He heaved a breath, resting against the wall for a moment.
"Sir! Please! Just wait a minute!"
No time. He backed up again and went for another round. This time, the door creaked and crashed open. He grinned wearily.
A hand grabbed at his sleeve. "We have to stop the bleeding –"
He shrugged the paramedic off. "I'm fine. I'm okay. There's no more pain."
He stumbled through the doorway and for a moment, couldn't see anything. Too dark. As his eyes grew adjusted, he stared as the details of what seemed to be a crumpled heap in the corner delineated in front of him. Tiny. Fragile. His heart clenched. Sammy.
He staggered over, dropped to his knees, and peered closely. She was resting on her right side, just like the way she always sleeps. Her lips were cracked and her skin splotched with purple contusions. Sammy. "Oh, Sammy. I'm so sorry." Sorry. Sorry. He trailed a bloody finger along her bruised cheek. "Sammy. I'm here now. You can wake up." She didn't respond. He leaned forward to press his cheek against hers. "Are you cold?" Her eyelashes were fans against her pale skin and her red hair was stringy and matted with dried blood. She was so quiet, so serene – it scared him. It terrified him.
He hiccupped and he realized that he was crying. Shuddering sobs that reverberated throughout his body.
He turned around and snarled at the paramedics, "What the hell are you standing around for? Can't you see that she's hurt? She's hurt, right? She's hurt?"
His eyes were intense as a paramedic bent down and checked Sammy. The man straightened up and nodded, "She's unconscious, but her pulse is still strong."
Vincent nodded. "I knew it. She's hurt. She's hurt. But she'll be okay."
The paramedic nodded and then said, "But sir, we should probably check you –"
The boy waved him off. "I'm alright. I'm not the one who's unconscious. Get your priorities straight. Sammy's hurt."
Vincent watched the paramedics load Sammy onto a stretcher because he had to make sure she's okay. They have to be careful. "Be careful! She – she's hurt."
A hand settled on his shoulder and he looked up to see Danielle. Her eyes were teary and he thought she must be crazy since everything's fine now. Sammy's okay. She spoke, "Vinnie, you found Sammy now so you can stop worrying and get help, okay?"
Vincent arched an eyebrow. "Well, of course – but I have to make sure Sammy is okay and watch her wake up. I have to explain to her that everything's okay now."
Tristan interrupted. "Vince, you're acting really freaky now. You've lost a lot of blood. Why don't you let the medics tend to you so that you're refreshed and not on death's door when Sammy awakens?"
Vincent shook his head. "Guys, I'm fine. There's no pain anymore. It's just a small scratch. I was just putting on an act for my mom. I'm okay. Really. You're all acting weird. Sammy's the one who's hurt. We have to see to her first. Why are you all fussing over me?" He watched the paramedics lift Sammy up and walk toward the door. He stood up. "Now if you'll all excuse me, I want to ride with Sammy in the ambulance."
He managed two steps.
He swallowed as a spasm of pain coursed through his body and throbbed in his head. Spots of light danced before his eyes as he swayed. He closed his eyes.
"Ah hell."
"Vincent!"
Darkness finally overtook him.
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading and reviewing all! Today's the last day so everything should be up by tonight.
To readers who still send me messages about their confusion and whatnot regarding the story, please try to read the author's notes first (Chapter 2 at the top in BOLD, Chapter 23 at the ending, and my blog posts. I cannot stress this enough. If you're so befuddled, please check out the blog first to see if I had already written out an essay explaining thing. The entries are labeled for organization and you could also type in keywords to locate specific answers.
But here we go. Let's break it down one more time.
Question: "hm, i am still trying to figure out why your reposting the story. Was it because of a massive rewrite? The story seems exactly the same to me. Just wondering."
Answer: Hmm, should I not be reposting this story? I assume you didn't chance upon my first few author's notes and that you didn't know it was removed before. Quick summary: earlier in the year, I had removed the last 29 chapters to prevent people from continuing to copy and paste my story up onto other sites. My intention was to rework the story and perhaps self-publish the revised story for better copyrights before reposting the original rough draft back up here for your perusal since I wasn't going to make people pay just to read what I had already offered up on Fictionpress for several years. (Although if you're really excited to support me with my funds, I'd gladly set up a donation box and shower you with kisses. :)
Along came winter break and with it, came days of boredom for readers, apparently. My inbox exploded with requests for False Facades and seeing as it's the holidays, I decided to repost the ORIGINAL ROUGH DRAFT, speeding up my original plans. I'm still not done with revisions, but I figured reposting the draft for you guys again would be no harm since the revised version wouldn't be posted up on Fictionpress anyway – although if you plagiarize my draft again (Seriously? Really? What's the point?), I will take up legal action.
So yes, this is indeed the same draft being reposted because certain new and old readers have requested to read it. And yes, the draft will remain online once I repost it all tonight.
So onto another question that runs along the opposite spectrum:
Q: "Oh hey, I remember in the original version, Tristan ended up confessing to Sammy as well.
... I guess not in this version."
Answer: I am reposting the original rough draft. Asides from minor revisions with grammatical errors and awkward phrasing, this remains largely the ORIGINAL draft. I didn't overhaul whole scenes nor did I remove large sections of the story, in particularly these last few chapters. Thus, if you remembered a certain scene that didn't appear this time around, you probably dreamt of it and I am very thankful and not in any way creeped out that the story inspired you to hallucinate thusly.
Specifically, there's no other version to Tristan's confession in Chapter 17. It was always a subtle implication in the scene.
Btw, thanks to Claire De Loon again and Jestry for pointing out my mechanical blunders! Your help is much, much appreciated!
Thank you all for your messages. Please refer to the blog for future inquiries so I won't have to waste your time with super long Author's Notes again! Once again, thanks - you're the best. Just … please put up with me and read these notes. I really don't write them for fun and I'd rather not repeat myself again.
- Maeven
© Copyright 2003 Maeven (FictionPress ID:349779). Reposted 01/05/2009. All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of Maeven.