~Chapter Twenty-Four~
It was a plaguing thought, and as I stepped out of the car I wondered if there was a possibility to the theory grappling my mind. Could Morgan really care more for me?
Morgan's grin was ever cheeky as he greeted me. The door was opened long before I got to it, and it let out a silence that was odd for a gathering. When I'd called to accept, the joy he'd expressed about my coming had nearly stemmed a decision on my doubts, but I chose to inspect for myself: what if I was wrong?
"The party's out back," he said, grabbing my hand and making to pull me in with a rush. It was really to get me inside quickly, I quickly realised this as he pulled me passed his kitchen in that I couldn't inspect the beauty of a simple house. It was simple. A starter bungalow that was capable of holding a family of five with enough room to make it seem spacious and still warm. The inside was decorated just as such.
It was his determination to avoid someone. But as my gaze flickered over a form inside the kitchen I was the one to halt what could have been.
"Don't," Morgan warned, but I was already walking into the kitchen.
"Mrs. Snoad?" I called. The woman glanced up from her cooking. She'd aged, I realised, but my mother's friend had grown with just enough grace to show for a life well lived.
Her eyes widened as she stared at my approach. Suddenly she squealed in delight and I found myself engulfed in a hug. I laughed. This was more enthusiasm than I'd thought to expect.
"Look at you," she said, holding me at arm's length to inspect my form. "Aren't you a beautiful girl? Oh, but you've really grown."
I laughed even as a blush surfaced on my cheeks. "You look beautiful, Mrs. Snoad," I said, unable to come up with something else. It had been one of those moments where excitement and surprise whirled within one's mind and one couldn't come up with a single sentence, unlike one's counterpart.
Mrs. Snaod blushed and then laughed as she swapped at the air. "This old thing?" she said. "Don't be too generous, darling; a certain someone might take advantage of it."
I giggled along with her. She'd always been outrageous and her smile was the only one to rival her sons. Morgan suddenly coughed behind us. We turned to find him staring pointedly at his mother.
Mrs. Snoad laughed and I stared at both of them, wondering what was amiss in the situation. "Morgan insists I stop interfering in his gatherings," she said. "This means we must reschedule. You and I should have a spa day. Felicity was just complaining her complexion's gone hard."
I nodded with no restraint against the honest proposal. "Morgan has my number: you just call me anytime and I'll be there."
"Splendid," this was Morgan, who stepped forward and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me back. "Now that both of you have made the acquaintance I didn't wish for," we both gasped, but laughed at his pink cheeks. "Good night, mother, and do keep your promise this time."
Mrs. Snoad's wink promised the complete opposite, and Morgan groaned from it. I laughed, gladly walking away with him. His arm was an unsure weight on my shoulders.
"I missed her," I suddenly said, startling us both. My brows shot up in surprise but Morgan laughed.
"I guessed from the moment back there," he said, glancing down at me. We reached the door and he stopped. I glanced up at him curious at the sudden situation. Morgan seemed uncertain as he struggled to say something. "Before you get in there, I just wanted to ask a question."
Slowly, I nodded. Curiosity had been something that had halted so much and I was weary of it, but this was Morgan. I could trust Morgan. "What is it?" I asked, fully turning to him.
His stance was uncertain. He stared at everywhere else but me, scratching at his head. I wondered what would make him so uncertain. He glanced down at me, meeting my gaze. Something seemed to clear for him. "How are you with alcohol?"
It wasn't the question, I knew it, but Morgan had chosen not to speak what truly bothered him. Something made it seem as though it would have made me uncomfortable and it was out of relief that I grasped his hand. This was why I could trust Morgan.
Morgan smiled. "I don't drink," I said.
The meeting was a blast. His friends were more welcoming after a few more meets, I realised, except for Liam who chose to point out my status, every so often. It made me wonder what it was about me that truly bothered him.
Morgan and I hang out more often then. A time or two I forced Muriel out of our usual way and had him pick up Morgan and Felicia after school. We rushed into ice-cream parlours and game studios, running after excited dogs in the park, or playing video games at his place.
There were times of serious moments that made it seem deeper, but the light moments were more. My father approved of the situation, I realised. Slowly, that chapter was refilling with well aligned and scripted words, although slow, was moving along stably.
Ella was making an effort to seek the point of views of everyone's situation, other than pulling herself into the centre and expecting all to agree.
My birthday came and passed, and a weight settled heavier on my shoulders. It was what drove me to this place tonight, the night of my birthday. Already my final ID was on its way, the documents having been procured weeks ago in my grandmother's excitement to have me old enough. Of course I'd be a citizen of England.
But I could drive my own car now: kudos to that accomplishment, however small it could be seen as.
"Something's been nagging me," I said one time, staring up at the oddly decorated ceiling. It compromised of a mirage that wasn't one specific picture.
"Shoot," Morgan tossed a bean into the air and easily it landed in his mouth. I shook my head even as I smiled. Morgan grinned. "Hey, can't help talent."
"No, you can't," I said. "Liam, what's–"
Morgan grinned. "About time," he said, cutting over me. I sat up; ready for an answer I knew he'd give. That was Morgan: in the time we'd been getting around, he'd been nothing but honest and open. He reminded me of child sometimes.
He sat upright as well, stashing away the packet of jelly beans. "In a shorter version," he started. "Liam's had shit in his life: his mother ditched a while back, father's a douche bag and his sister was just diagnosed with cancer."
I gasped. The fact that Morgan could say it so easily was just as baffling as the details. "How did that happen?" I asked.
Morgan's brows furrowed as he watched me. It made me fidget. Morgan could be astounding sometimes especially when he took notice of things I'd plagued him not to be able to. "Leukaemia," he said. "She requires a marrow transplant; unfortunately she can't get it fast enough. Her dad's paying shit for her and Liam has to go to school and work to get the bills done."
I shook my head in disapproval. Fervour rose in me. "You're telling me a father had belied both his children, one of which doesn't have the health to survive, and he does not care if she lives?"
Morgan nodded, pressing into a firm line. "I guess so," he said.
I sighed. Clarity crushed around me at the newfound information. "He blames me," I said simply. Morgan went to speak but I spoke over him. "Don't even deny it. He sees me walking around with all the security, a body of money and everything he wishes for. I remind him of his reality."
Silence followed my statement. The reality hung between us both with a stable thrum that drowned out the necessities of words. But slowly, that awkward burn rose in the midst of it all. I could wail and moan about how unfair life was to give me so much and yet so little, when the truth was reality gave people so little and yet so much.
I should have been thinking of how to turn my lemons, though unripe or near spoilt, into lemonade that would leave many more refreshed and rejuvenated. I could make a change with this new reality of mine, I could give people like Liam's sister a chance, and one I had not been given. But as I sat there, I realised one other thing.
I had been given a chance. With only a bit of understanding and patience, I could come to the conclusion I had been given a chance, and stop droning about how my life was unfair. No. People like Liam had unfair lives, and he was probably a good person too, with dreams of his own other than taking care of his sister, who obviously had dreams too.
It made me wonder if another chance had really been placed onto my lap as a saucer of tea with a side of heavenly chocolate delight. Could I love again?
And suddenly, I wasn't just watching Morgan, but I was staring at him, noticing things that could not be spotted so quickly. Things that should not have been noticed, ever, but were needed to make a decision that could change many courses.
He had stubble along his jaw line; I realised, and thought he must have to shave at least once a day. So much responsibility for someone just starting out; it made him seem more masculine, more in the range of other procurements. Morgan had nice lips too, I recognised with a rising wail of shock.
I met his stare, clouded with a sudden emotion I refused to pay heed to. It had to be done. "Would you kiss me, Morgan?" I asked before I could stop myself. Could I ever feel for someone else as I felt for Elliot? Had I another chance before me if I could just take it?
Morgan's eyes barely widened. As the silence stretched before us I feared I'd slipped up and would surely lose a friend. But suddenly, Morgan slid forward. His hand lifted to cup my cheek before his lips descended upon mine.
It was a kiss, which was as far as I could say. It raised the emotions a kiss would, fervour of brushing of lips, the heat of sparks as the kiss intensified with opening of tongues. It brushed shivers down my spine and stroked my body into the rising inferno of arousal.
But something felt wrong. I couldn't stop thinking he shouldn't be kissing me. Warning blared at the back of my mind that I shouldn't do this. It was cheating and lying and I shouldn't have been doing this; I shouldn't have asked.
Before I could push away, the door burst open followed by Felicity's words of protest. We pulled apart, Morgan blinking back into focus. My gaze descended upon the looming figure on the doorway.
Betrayal, hurt and anger was an expression I'd never wanted to see upon Elliot's expression, but there it was, plain to see as he stared at us. We'd pulled apart a moment too late, I realised, and even with my red cheeks and engorged lips, he would have known what had just taken place.
"I'm sorry, Morgan, but he just strode in like he owned the place," Felicity explained, standing behind Elliot, looking unsure at the rigid stance he displayed.
Fear crept up my spine. This shouldn't have been happening. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn't be real. That's what I thought as his expression closed off and a sneer took over, full of cold menace.
I made to stand. "Elliot," I whispered; my voice was small and unsure.
Elliot's chuckle was void of emotion as he stared back and forth between Morgan and me. He shook his head, chuckling again. "Oh, please, sorry to interrupt," he said. "Do go on."
He turned and strode away, his feet thumping as he went. Panic braced my heart into a wild tempo that near had me choking on air. It shouldn't have happened. Regret screamed at me to get up, to follow him and try to explain.
Morgan suddenly grabbed my arm. It was enough of a shock to get me onto my feet. I pulled free, grabbed my purse and jumped off, rushing down the hallways even as Morgan called after me.
He couldn't get away. He had to listen. He had to understand. He had to listen. My heart failed to understand reason at that moment. Elliot and I were over. Our moment of victory had ended at the sunset of the next day. I shouldn't have been feeling guilty or pressure to follow the man.
But my body surged with wanton demand to reach him. I found him stomping down the driveway, towards his car where Chris and Elijah awaited. It was a short driveway so the shock on their faces was clear from the few feet that separated us.
"Elliot," I called, rushing down the tarmac after him.
"Go away," he didn't stop, but kept on walking as he threw this over his shoulder.
"Elliot, please, we must talk." At this he stopped, whirling back to stare at me with disgust on his face.
"Look at you," he said, voice filled of anger that made it waver. "Do you really think I want to talk to you, let alone hear you say shit?" suddenly, his brows shot up and his grin turned mocking. "Forgive my insolence, my lady, but excuse me."
It hurt to be hurled such a mock in the face. Shocked by the audacity that he'd said such words, I watched him stomp off the rest of the way, my feet suddenly rooted to the ground I stood upon. I felt my heart finally crumple to where, surely, it could never be resurrected from, and felt the first tears threaten to spill.
He'd done it. I'd trusted him but there went the outcome of it, walking to the driver's seat of his car. What else could I think to do after such a hard slap? Elliot had trusted me as much as I'd trusted him. I'd kissed another guy.
Jenkins never give up... it was the words my father had once said to me as I'd come to the realisation of the responsibilities I may come to face one day. It made me realise a hard fact I'd not known to be ignoring. I was a Jenkins first, and it was the backdrop for everything about me.
A sudden surge flared my feet into action. I ignored the pebbles under my feet and ran straight for Elliot. Chris glanced up at my approach warning Elliot to my approach. I grabbed his arm and forced him to turn back to me.
He was there with a glare that near made me falter. "Go back to–"
"I love you," I said. Silence followed the proclamation. Even Elijah who'd been lowering himself into the back seat halted. Elliot stopped what he was about to say, and stared straight at me, an expression of shock on his features.
It left me so stunned I faltered but as the truth washed over me, pulled out by the simplest formation of words in the English dictionary; it all came rushing out of me. It was now, or never and there wouldn't ever be another chance.
"I love you," I said, again. "I'm inexcusably in love with you. I'm sorry for your arrest; I'm sorry to have been the reason to disrupt you privacy, and I'm sorry for all the hurt I've caused. I–"
"Enough!" the demand made me halt and I jumped, eyes growing wide at the anger reverberating from Elliot. His fists were clenched and his whole body shook with restrained anger. "I don't know about love, but I'm pretty sure if you love someone, you don't go kissing other guys."
What could I say to that? I'd asked Morgan to kiss me. It was my fault. "But, Elliot–"
He shook his head. "Return to your Morgan, return to your bodyguards and return to your England and castles; and keep your damned love. I don't need it and I especially don't need you." he practically growled, each word slamming into a chest that wouldn't be able to take anymore.
I took a step back, watching him glare at me with such hatred. This couldn't be right. But it was. Practicality struck me then. This was the boy I'd fallen for. He'd thrown me from his home, ignored me as much since then, and now he threw back my love at me. I wasn't supposed to tell him as it had just blurted out of me, but to have him respond this way.
Something cold drifted down my cheeks. Elliot's glare narrowed on it suddenly. He stared at it in surprise. It didn't cool the hot slap he'd just thrown at me; it didn't tone down the hurt that would never go away. Elliot and I were surely and clearly through.
I met his gaze, cold as ice and surely with a heart frozen and lost in the arctic. He did not care about me. Hope was gone, just like that.
"I'll go back to my England, Elliot, don't worry about that," my voice sounded soft to my ears, unsure. As Elliot's expression hardened I realised how weak I sounded. How it must have made him hate me more. Vibrations racked my body, reminding me I'd left my jacket because of the stupid irrationality of passions. Hadn't he said not to get involved emotionally?
"Chrystal?" Mrs. Snoad's voice came from behind us. I turned around, surprised to have her standing nearly beside us. She had a worried expression as she moved to where I stood, glancing between all the audiences around us. "Are you alight?"
It was a common question. The answer could be answered in a single breathe with one word. But it struck a chord. I shook my head, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. This couldn't be happening. I couldn't be having a breakdown, not in front of Elliot.
Anger rose in me. I was so thoroughly brought up that I thought myself weak for crying, but I was a girl. But his words plagued me. He'd scoffed at my declaration, what would he say at my weakness.
"Excuse me," was all I could say as I brushed past her, back towards my car just in front of his.
"Chrystal," she called, sounding surprised as well as worried. I didn't turn back.
"Chrystal," Morgan called, frantic. I barely glanced back but found Morgan rushing towards me.
I didn't stay. This wasn't part of me anymore, and I couldn't stay any longer. I jumped into the car, slamming my door behind me. Chris before me got out of the car, Elijah rushing to his brother's side.
I found the key, watching the intent on Chris's face as he rushed to me. He would demand I hand over the keys, as would Mrs. Snoad. But Chris jumped in front of me, eyes determined. Anger burst out suddenly, and I didn't think as I slammed into the gas, reversing the car. He was surprised as he jumped out of the way. The car skidded out of the estate.
I forced the tears away as the wind slapped at my face. I had to brush the tears away, to constantly brush them away as I drove down one side of town to another. He'd done it. He'd turned my whole fantasy into reality with just his words. There was no chance anymore.
But that wasn't it. As I sought deeper, past the ashes of my heart pilled in a pit, past the growing hollowness of thought as it narrowed into one direction, the truth pulled out of me. Elliot didn't love me.
How much of a fool I was to have hoped he would.
My headlights flashed against a sudden scene. My feet made the greatest footwork as it slammed against the breaks. Never again would I dread the dancing lessons. A car had stopped working in the middle of the road.
This was good, I thought. This could distract me well. I could step away from my depths. It served to be the worst choice ever.
I was barely out of the car before someone stepped before me, fully clothed in black with gloves and a ski mask. Fear crawled up my spine. Another stepped behind the first, body smaller but well built. I would have fought. I could have pulled up my expertise on martial arts and run away.
But it was the light glinting off of a weapon that made me pause.
"You know exactly what this is," the first man said, voice deep and gruff. My breathing became erratic and I strove to control it. This was a first, one I'd hoped never to come across.
"I have money in the glove compartment," I said. "The car's still worth a lot. Just take it and leave."
A chuckle came from him, horrible as it caressed danger down my spine. "There's a better price than those," he said. I knew what he meant.
Suddenly, a hand went over me. A cloth was put before me. I shrugged against it, pushing and shoving to be let free. I managed a firm elbow into his side and stepped on his foot but the person had a firm grasp. Suddenly, the other man stepped forward.
"We don't have time for this," he said. Suddenly he punched me. It was a lewd and uncouth act only a vandal who didn't care would do. Pain exploded in my abdomen and I chocked on it, gradually inhaling the chloroform.
~Chapter Twenty-Five~
"Elliot Dupree!" the name was called out in a bored loud voice. I glanced towards the approaching officer and cringed as I found my father walking behind him. I didn't need this right now.
I was sure with the swift punch Mongo had gotten in that I was going to have a purple eye, and a sore body from the work out we'd had on his lawn. Thankfully for the mother a patrol had been passing by.
I glanced back to Mongo whose bruises were already starting to show. Anger unlike any other rose within me. The asshole glared right back at me, shaking his head in annoyance.
"You're a pig," he spat.
I scoffed, a smirk pulling at me. "At least I'm not a sleazy racoon,"
"Both of you, shut it," the officer said, both our parents before us now. Morgan wasn't laughing this time, and it made me weary. I'd always been watchful of the scoundrel since the first time we'd switched. A laughing kid had more under his sleeve than he gave. I should have known his sudden interest to return to the school had been for her.
Asshole had kissed her. Asshole had kissed her but on her request. That's what made it so much worse. Pain racked through me again; it was a familiar feeling. I hadn't prepared for anything that had happened over the past days. I'd guessed her too sound of mind to even think of falling in love.
But she'd fallen in love. That had been the worst thing. I should have stopped the moment she'd started giggling and diverting secrets. I should have kept her away, and stayed very far away from the ranch. That night had ruined everything.
I knew from all the time I'd known her that she was not confused about her feelings. The desperation she'd shown and the suddenness of her proclamation could have questioned the words but those were thoughts that had been toppling in her mind for some time. What I couldn't understand was why she'd asked Morgan to kiss her.
Anger pulled out once again. It was an emotion that always happened, always kept me walking and moving and breathing. It kept me awake in the middle of the night when all I thought of was...
My father's glare was downright cold. I'd been on the other side of it so many times now I didn't bother shrinking as I glared back. "He started it," I growled as the woman's complaints started getting on my nerves. "With your explanation please add how your son's the one who shoved me first."
Morgan laughed mockingly; but it was the muscle popping along his neck that let known he was holding himself back, just as I was. "She said she fucking loved you and you threw it back in her face," he said. "I'd gladly do it again you sour puss."
The insult didn't go unnoticed. I stood up, as did Morgan. "Say that again," I demanded. The officer got in between us but between the two of us throwing insults and getting riled up for another fight, more officers had to intervene. But it was my father who pulled me away.
"Enough with you two," his glare flicked between me and Morgan, but it stayed on me. "I've had enough of shit with that girl. This should be the last time I have to pull your ass out of this pile, am I correct?"
And images blared at me. Instinct reared its head and I had the sudden urge to stand at ease, arms behind my back, attempting to keep my aching, near sore body up as sweltering heat strove to drive me back down, all the while keeping every flinch and disgusting thought at bay as my commander spoke and spat at me just to get a rise from me.
It made me shake and swelter and reminded me of everything I'd missed by going to the military base, of the years she'd been taken back and forth from the hospital, every pain and anguish she'd had to endure, all the while her sons were kept in the dark.
I glared right back at my father. After so many years the size difference was no longer visible and the only way to tell who was what was by the features. He'd refused to tell us what was happening. He'd refused to allow us the only time we could have been with her.
He'd sent us to the military knowing she was ill.
"It should've been the last time you lied to me," I said, voice calm and stoic as I watched him. His face suddenly lost the anger. His stance slouched. He didn't say a word as my words registered to him.
"Elliot," Elijah's voice broke from beside us. I knew he was there. "It wasn't his fault and you know that."
I scoffed. "All I know is that he didn't tell us shit when our mother was in a freaking hospital dying of cancer," I said.
Our father just stared at me, watching me as I watched him. He didn't look guilty, more like resigned. Why would he be? How could he be?
It made me think about what I'd done. I'd gone and thrown the love of a woman in her face, twice. One could never hear it again, but the other was at this moment preparing to return to England.
"I don't care shit if you go ballistic. I'm going to see Chrys again and nothing's going to stop me; not you, not him, and not anyone."
It was a determined stride that brought me to the dining room the next day. I didn't care as I passed my disgruntled brother who moved out of the way at my approach.
"Someone's in a rush," he said.
"Five minutes," I called back as I rushed into the room. I had to get to her. Emotions welled up within me, boiling and roving in ways that shouldn't have been possible. But there it was, the feeling that something undeniable was about to happen.
It would. I'd show her because the world knew I didn't know how to use words.
"Elliot?" Rosa called, stepping into the dining room.
Toast already gobbled down I was in the middle of gulping my juice. I hummed but then fully swallowed. "I have to go, Rosa," I said, remembering her conversation with me just hours after I'd kicked Chrystal from my life. "There's a short girl that needs to know something." This I said as I pecked her cheek with a grin.
"Wait, child," she said, exasperated and sounding in distress. I would follow that later, I promised myself as I pulled up my bag and strode for the parlour, which would take me to the front door. "There's something you should know–"
But she didn't need to finish. My feet strode to a halt as the room at large stared back at me. Something fell heavy in my chest as I stared across the room to my parent, his girlfriend and the officer who'd taken me in the previous night.
I groaned. "I thought we were done with this," I said as I made to walk back. But Rosa was there, staring up at me with the most wounded face.
"Elliot?" Caroline, my father's girlfriend, had a scared, saddened voice that had me stopping. What was up with this house? It was just getting arrested.
"Yes, I got into a fight and got arrested," I said, feeling annoyed at the time slipping by. "I'll apologise later but right now I have to get to school–"
Elijah strode into the room then. He stared at the room, eyes growing wide, before he narrowed them at me. "What did you do now?"
I scowled amazed at the comradeship of my twin. But before I could reply, our father's booming voice pulled us to the room. "Boys!" we all looked to him, but it was as Jonny ran into the room followed by his father that I knew this wasn't about last night.
"Alright," I said slowly, a foreboding crawling down my spine. My bag lowered into the seat beside me. "I want an answer to the obvious. What's going on?"
It was the cop to answer. Things took a twisting turn from that day onward. Chrystal had been kidnapped just after she'd left us at Morgan's place. A letter had been found in her car, abandoned in the middle of the road. She'd been nowhere to be seen as traffic had lined up behind her car, her door wide open.
As a suspected kidnapper, I'd been put on house arrest until something else could come up. Surprise there! But I hadn't been a willing occupant and the constant jabbing and questioning as to my character had brought me to breaking point more times than one.
Morgan, I learned, was in a near same position thanks to his damning file and acquaintance with me. Shit was spewing left and right but there was one thing that left me angry with everyone and myself.
I'd been too late. Again!
The vase went sailing across the room, crashing with a loud splash against the wall at the far end of my room. A gasp sounded at the door way of one room. I turned to it, panting heavily; angry that I was a suspect when I bloody loved that annoying girl, and at that moment she could be in pain, shouting for help or... who knew.
"Elliot?" Caroline asked, standing uneasily on the doorway. "Are you alright?"
I laughed at that. It was short, but a burst of panic and anger and helplessness as I couldn't do anything to find her, stuck in a house because of my own choices. I'd lost my chance. That was it: I'd lost my chance and pulled her into this path.
"Yeah," I said, nodding dumbly as I turned away. "Just wanting to punch something."
A call had been made, thankfully, but it had been from a payphone. The attacker was demanding three million that was to be dropped in a shoot in a local laundry house. It was a man.
It was obvious that Mr. Jenkins could to pay that and more, but the price gave some clues. The caller made no promises about Chrystal, and that's what drove everyone nuts. It was only one whisper and the article hit newlines rather viciously.
More days and nights were spent attempting to find other ways to get her back, and through the whole ordeal things turned raw for me. I was forced to return to memories I'd shut away, but restless nights and endless days brought them to the forefront of my mind.
They plagued me. I'd had a chance to say goodbye with my mother. In her death bed in this same house we'd nursed and loved her in the time we, her sons, had found out about her health.
But I'd had to lose control, and because of that I'd near killed someone else. By the time I'd been well enough, she'd already been six feet under, with Gloria incapable of moving her legs. It was all because of me.
The break of a whole week of madness was broken with one phone call. The boxing rhythm was broken off with the ring of my phone, and as I'd answered, the little girl's voice had been the sweetest news to my ears.
We all surged forward as a bullet seared the air. It was really the adrenaline wanting to make certain Chrys was alright. As I barged through the door, the image before me was not what I wanted to see. I wanted to find my sweet Chrystal tied up and alright other than raw skin, but not kneeling before a collapsing body with a gun in her hand, blood pooling all around as a little girl cried over her dying brother.
She glanced up; eyes wide and scared as she forced to speak but stuttered uncertain words.
"Elliot," her whimper was small, uncertain and broken. I never wanted to see Chrystal like that again.