THREE
SHE WAS A GIRL TRAPPED WITHIN GLASS. Quite literally trapped in a cage of glass, something so easily shattered yet impossible to break out of. Her breaths were fast and choppy, the girl desperately gasping for a breath of air.
She was having a panic attack, and she knew it. Her hands ran along the glass panels surrounding her desperately, fear keeping her in a choke hold. Its grip tightened around her throat, fingers squeezing more and more as the seconds pass. It was as if there was an hourglass within her head, and she could hear every grain of sand fall.
It was as if it was counting down to something, but she didn't know what. All she knew was that something was coming, the feeling deep in her gut promising her so. That, and the fact that whatever it was, was lethal.
Her panic grew.
Her chest felt like it was going to collapse; ribs breaking and cutting into lungs, a sternum piercing her heart. Her death from within a prison of glass. The tips of her fingers ran along the smooth glass, leaving a sweaty residue - her hands had grown clammy with panic. She struggled, desperately trying to control her breathing.
She tried to take air in through her nose, and release it through her mouth, but her body refused to work with her brain. She kept repeating the directions, neurons sending pulses, but falling upon deaf nerves. With a small box of glass, a girl hyperventilated. She watched as the steam from her breath clouded onto the glass, fogging her vision of the outside world. Not that there way anything to really view. She was surrounded in darkness, draped over her like a veil. A light seemed to thrum from within the glass, like a spotlight that confined her. As if she were on display, and this was all some large, inhumane joke. As if she were a puppet on display, and the game of terror was only about to begin. She could feel it in her bones, a taunting that made her panic only grow.
There was no way she could control herself. She wracked her brain for the various methods her therapist had given her in hopes to calm down. Tricks to help her control her breathing and diminish her panic. Anxiety had plagued her for years, and she had, for the most part, learned tips to keep herself calm. Like counting down in her head; picking out five things she could hear, see, smell, and touch; and using her pony tail holder around her wrist, pulling it back and allowing the small sting to remind her where she was and to stay level headed.
Except for right now, none of these would work. There was nothing she could see or hear, and she couldn't keep herself focused on counting down. Her mind swirled, thoughts and fears firing as rapidly as breaths came and left.
It was almost as if she was living a life style of pure self destruction. She knew that she mentally couldn't handle situations like this, yet she managed to toss herself into them without thinking. She was carelessly impulsive, never thinking about the consequences of her actions. The main problem with that was the fact that she could not handle the outcome of her choices.
She didn't think them through, and they ended with her trapped within this glass castle. She realized all the ways that this was like a confinement she figuratively created for herself. She was a vessel trapped inside a cage, a girl with wind for skin and rain for blood. She was a storm in every way, a category four hurricane. The strength and passion that was buried deep within her was hidden away from the world as she built walls around herself, bricks of fear and self loathing. Of nerves and destruction.
Once, a long time ago, she was in a confinement of her own making; now, her reckless actions had confined her in a cage that was much more real. A solid piece that was not of her making, now a doll in someone else's mind games.
She had built this house of terror on her own, and now she had to live in it.
For years, she had learned to keep her thoughts to herself. Despite the flood of opinions that were welled up in her mind, her skull like a dam. She kept everything bottled within her, and it was a toxic thing she did. It was an equation for destruction that she had formulated, something more intricate than any mathematician could create. It was a fearful thing, to have a silent girl who was raging with an inferno raging on inside her. She was a bomb just waiting to be set off, and she would obliterate everything in her path.
It was only a matter of time for her, the seconds ticking away slowly. It was an inevitable moment, and even if someone denied it, even they could feel it in their bones. Eyes would always stray to the quiet girl in the middle of class, hidden away in the mix of students, because of the fire that burned so brightly in her eyes. The desperation to break out of the mold she made for herself radiated off of her, a powerful aura seeming to radiate off of her.
It was why gazes subconsciously wandered to her as she made her way through her high school's hallway. It was confusing to her, seeing that she was nothing special. She wasn't being pessimistic, she was just being realistic. She wasn't anything out of the ordinary. She was pretty, but she wasn't stunning. She was quiet, she had two friends, and she was ordinary. She refused to put herself out there, but it was as if it was easy to see the woman that she would surely grow into.
Even if people didn't want to acknowledge it, there was something about that her that showed strength and determination and a desire for success. Maybe it was her hard set face, or the way that she carried herself despite her nerves. She may have been locked within her own head, but there was a world of knowledge and strategy locked within there. Someday that strong girl would break out of her shell, and everyone knew it.
Even if she refused to admit it, even she knew so. Her thoughts and beliefs and morals would one day begin to seep out, and her skin would crack, allowing them all to break free. An overflow of epic proportions causing even the strongest of dams to shatter.
Her feet carried her across the tiled floor and to her next class. She kept her head high, but refused to put herself out there. It was how she learned to navigate high school. She went to school in a bad part of town, and she knew that putting herself out there would be her means for an end, but cowering down would make her look weak. She had to hold herself to a standard that said she wasn't to be fucked with, but she wasn't going to engage in anything going on around her. She'll leave everyone else alone as long as they gave her the same courtesy.
But some days . . . some days it was just so damn hard for her to.
The chattering around her was loud, various conversations blurring and blending together like paints on a canvas. Her attention wouldn't hook on any of them, not bothering to care for what her classmates did. She had a bad habit of finding any and all of their interests idiotic and moronic, but she had a habit of thinking she was above them. She wasn't, but she wanted to hold herself to a higher standard than everyone else. Deep down, she believed that she was destined for greatness.
Sometimes she almost felt detached from everything carrying on around her. Like she was a ghost observing the world, and that her life hadn't truly began. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was just a sophomore in high school, and it felt as if her life had no true meaning. She carried out simple functions and followed a simple schedule, and since she was an upperclassman, she held no major presence.
Slowly, the voices and conversations around her fell to a cease, hushed whispers taking their place. This wasn't unusual, her school constantly was like this. Her peers chose to engage in fights at any chance, for things as simple as a bump in the hallway. She understood that it was a rush of power for these people, knowing that they'd be stuck here forever, so they would constantly attack anyone smaller.
She glanced up, watching as a quarrel began to take place at the end of the hallway. It was no shock to her, seeing that linebacker Jackson Clair was currently sizing up Scott Arlington. Jackson was always desperate for a fight, itching to let his knuckles collide with a jaw. To hear the snap, to watch as a head whipped back from sheer force. It was his will that did that, and the adrenaline that rushed through his veins when he did created an incomparable high.
Did anyone really know what it was that Jackson was angry about today? There was no answer. For all anyone knew, Scott simply glanced at Jackson the wrong way. If his lip was quirked to high up or to low down was enough to set Jackson off. It was all because Scott was smaller, which must have made him weaker and inferior in Jackson's mind. Despite the intelligence that was trapped within his mind, he was still prey to someone as thick skulled as Jackson Clair.
Everyone was silent, glancing over as Jackson's fingers curled around the fabric of Scott's shirt, pushing him back. Scott's back collided against the lockers behind him, a shuddering sounding as the lockers vibrated from the impact.
Her lips quirked down in distaste, noticing the way that Scott resembled a pawn to Jackson's queen. A queen would wipe him off the board without a moment's hesitation, obliterating him from the game entirely. It was injustice - it was filthy and dirty and if anything, dishonorable. It wasn't a fair fight, picking on someone not even half their size.
Her fingers twitched, rage coursing through her veins. Tired of watching the large try and dominate the weak, the quiet, the calculating and the cunning. They fought with fists and muscles, but she knew that Scott was like her. He was someone cunning, who calculated their every move. When they fought, they played strategically.
Her mind ran, acting before she could process what actions her nerves were sending. She never thought over her actions, instantly acting on impulse. Everyone knew it was coming, that today was the day.
Today was the day that she snapped. She didn't just snap, she shattered. She broke off into a million jagged pieces of bitter, blinding rage. A storm finally taking to a city, disrupting everything and making its presence known. Finding a home in the hearts of others and then rotting them from the inside out.
She was destruction.
Jackson was instantly caught off guard when a petite, unknown girl grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him off of Scott with as much force as she could. He hadn't expected the movement, and was instantly torn off of the boy in front of him. He stumbled, whirling around to be faced with a girl that was not only smaller than Scott, but younger, and far less known. She was just a pathetic sophomore in his eyes, but deep down, she knew she was so much more.
Realizing what she had done, she gulped nervously. Jackson's figured loomed over hers, casting a shadow over her. A wrath she didn't know if she could escape. Her fingers trembled and her heart hammered; she didn't know if it was from her nerves or her rage. Maybe it was both.
Her mind screamed at her, wanting to slam herself into a locker. What was she thinking? Oh, that was right, she didn't think. She acted on impulse. She acted before she even knew what it was she was doing. Her breath got stuck in her throat, and she knew her knees were starting to lock. It would only be moments before they collapsed. She knew as much.
There was no need for her to worry about collapsing, Jackson was already holding her on her feet. She had just so happened to pick a battle that she wouldn't be able to win. It was seconds before her own feet were dangling in the air, his fists curled into her shirt and holding her up. As if this were a battle, and he was determined to show that he was dominant over her.
A feral smile grew on his lips, and she wondered if this would be the last thing she saw. He could toss her around like a puppet if he chose. She heard the whispers around them die, all eyes watching as the unknown girl was picking a battle that no one would willingly walk into.
A chuckled escaped his lips, and there was some lethal grace to it that sent chills along her spine. Most would think that he'd just let her walk off, simply because she was a girl. That a boy had no place in attacking a girl, but this wasn't a nice, quaint town. This was a place where if you decided to walk headfirst into battle, if you wanted to fuck with someone, you had to square up. A nervous, impulsive girl was no exception to said rule. No one got special treatment, no one as small as her.
She sucked in a shaky breath, refusing to allow her gaze to waver from him. Despite the terror and fear and anger that flowed in her veins, she knew that she did this to herself. She had written her sentence, and now it was time to take the punishment.
"You stupid, stupid girl," he breathed, his voice husky and dark. It was low enough so that only she could hear it, and she knew that it made him seem only that much more daunting. Her breath hitched in her throat, lodged their like a cork in a bottle.
There was no chance for her to retort, to squirm or fight her way away. A sultry, feminine voice was already drawling out and breaking the silence.
"You stupid, stupid boy," a woman purred, and she found herself glancing over.
The woman was older than her by a long shot. She must have been in her early to mid twenties, and she clearly was no teacher. She also didn't go to this school, which made the confusion only rise in everyone in the hallway.
Her black hair ran long, a silky and glossy kind of perfection. Her lips curled up in a nefarious smirk, and her blue dark brown eyes were borderline auburn. Almost as if they were a light shade of read. She couldn't help but wonder if they were naturally like that or if she were wearing tinted contacts. They melded with the deep tan on her skin, making her radiant. She held a lethal, captivating beauty.
She felt Jackson's grip on her lighten, and she found herself to captivated by the woman in front of her to bother to try and wiggle out of his grip.
The woman's gaze fell on Jackson, and she simply commanded, "Put her down."
It wasn't a request, it was an order.
He scoffed. "And why would I do that."
She grinned, almost as if she were hoping he'd ask that. She moved with the grace of lightening, faster than anyone she had ever seen before. Her slender fingers were instantly gripping the back of his neck, tearing his head back. She gasped, and Jackson's grip on her faltered. She was instantly dropped to the ground, colliding with the tile floor. Pain hummed throughout her, but she knew it must be nothing compared to Jackson's.
His head was snapped back, and the woman dug her nails into his skin. Blood dribbled out of the puncture wounds, dripping down her neck slowly.
"Because I can do a lot worse than this if you don't," she assured, her voice light and nurturing, but a threat hung there that had even Jackson quivering.
With that, she released her grip, pulling her nails out of his flesh. He stumbled away, hand immediately clamped over his neck. He didn't need to be told to leave, he was already pushing his way through the crowd. If he were a dog, his tail would be between his legs. His cowardice was pitiful, and the small sophomore found herself more focused on the alluring woman before her.
She gazed down at the girl for a brief moment before eyeing the hoards of students. "Scatter."
It was almost as if she could compel everyone, all of the teenagers dispersing and rushing to their classes. Even she felt the need to leave upon the woman's words, but she found herself still planted on the floor.
When the hallway was empty, she finally found herself stammering out, "Who - who are you?"
The woman smiled a kind one, extending her arm toward the girl on the floor. "Call me Nemesis. And Nerissa, I believe I have something you want."
Nerissa raised a brow at the woman, but nonetheless took her hand.
Nemesis brought Nerissa up and onto her feet, the catalyst in something heinous.
Water began to seep in.
Nerissa was unable to figure out from where it came, but new that there was a thin layer of water coating her shoes. There was no opening from where it could have came, and she had an odd feeling that the water was coming from magic.
She realized she must have truly been going crazy, that she must have been hallucinating in her state of blind panic. Nerissa knew though, that she was not. The water was real, she could feel it as if she were standing on the beach, waves wading against her feet and ankles. This wasn't something calm though, this was lethal and was set out to kill her in this confinement.
Suddenly, instinct took hold of her, and she fists began to feverishly pound against the glass. Some naive part of her believed that she could break free, that she could fight against her confinements that were created to destroy her. A desperation built up inside of her, gaining momentum along with the water.
She felt it reach her knees, bleeding into her jeans. Slowly soaking her, and taking hold of her as if it wanted her to become one with it. She gazed up lightly, knowing that the top of the box was only an inch above her head. There was no opening, and when the water filled, it would consume her.
If she didn't figure out a way to escape, she was going to die. If she wanted to live, she had to fight.
Both of her fists slammed against the glass, and she fought back a cry when the skin over her knuckles split. She bit down on her bottom lip, her front teeth digging into the flesh and drawing blood. Swallowing her sob of pain, she slammed her fists against the glass once more. Her blood splattered against it, painting it a deep crimson.
The water was pressing against her waist.
Blood dribbled out of her lip, and it smeared along the glass as she punched and punched and punched. Her skin continued to split more and more, and her blood continued to pour. The water to her rain was breaking past the wind that was her skin. The blood dripped down the glass, reaching the water that was now up to her stomach.
It bled into the water, a small drop in the pure liquid. She watched as it spread, hardly making a dent. But more and more of her blood reached the water, spreading and dying it a venomous color. Her punches became less forceful as the water rose, making it harder for her to move her arms at a good speed.
It made her feel as if she was punching through molasses.
The glass still had yet to give way, not a single crack forming. The water was circling around her neck, and she finally released a scream, her fingers scraping against the glass in front of her. She wanted to break free, she so desperately wanted release. She had never fought harder for anything in her entire life.
Her blood mixed along with the water, and she was in a mess of crimson water, trying to break past the glass that held her captive. It was like chains binding her here, leaving her to embrace her death.
The water was up to her eyes, and Nerissa tilted her head back, keeping her mouth and nose above the surface. She took small breaths, the air within the box diminishing.
Soon was she encompassed in it, no way for her to breathe. She pounded on the glass as hard as she could, holding her breath. Her lungs screamed and her head felt as if it was about to implode in on her due to the pressure.
Her efforts grew pitiful, and finally, she screamed.
Any air that was within her lungs released, and the bubbles plumed all around her. Bubbles filled with screams of terror that couldn't be heard.
When it was released, the water flowed into her mouth, and filled her lungs.
She had succumbed to the terror; she had given up the futile fight.
☐☐☐☐☐
He should have been scared, and he knew as much. Any sane person would have been screaming, crying, doing anything that wasn't staring at the flames with a straight face. Then again, he was never a normal person. He had always known that he was odd, ever since he was a kid. He wasn't into sports or video games or anything any normal boy would be into.
He wasn't really sure he knew was he liked, he simply just existed.
There should have been some small part of him that felt something - anything. If anything, he just felt anticipation for the inevitable. He knew he was going to die, but for some reason, he could't bring himself to care. He just watched the flames that surrounded him dance, watching as they slowly crept toward him. He didn't feel any fear as the embers crackled around him. If anything, he felt discomfort. It was a little too hot for his liking.
From what he had gathered, he was an a room. Not that there were many features he could make out, everything was black. The walls were painted to resemble the night sky, and the floor and ceiling were made to match. In each corner was a flame - at least, to being with. They slowly grew, sparking to life as the seconds pass and approaching him. He was trapped in the center of the room, watching.
The fires grew, and he could feel the heat radiating off of them. A coat of sweat covered his skin, making him feel clammy and uncomfortable. If anything, he just wanted to shed his skin and be done with this entire ordeal. Any rational person would be trying to figure out a means of escape or delaying the inevitable, but he found no interest in trying to stop something he knew would happen.
He just had to accept that this was more than likely his final hour alive, and if anything, he almost felt comforted by the idea of death. If death itself walked in right now, he would probably shake his hand and clasp him on the back as if he and death were old pals.
For a brief moment, he was almost tempted to reach out, to see what the flame felt like against the tips of his fingers. To feel how hot they actually were, to say that he touched fire.
Fire was peculiar, and it was something that had always intrigued. Fire was neither solid, nor liquid, nor gas. It was a substance entirely on its own, yet it wasn't really a substance at all. While it wasn't a gas itself, it was created out of various gases that could even be turned into plasma if hot enough.
He wondered how hot it would need to be for that to happen. A curiosity was buried deep inside of him, craving knowledge and wanting to know more and more about the oddities in life. Fire was one of them. He wanted to understand the lethal being, something that wasn't breathing but nearly felt alive. Like it had a heartbeat of its own, acting much like humans. It took and took and took, and it never gave. It destroyed everything in its path without so much as a hint of hesitation or reluctance. In a way, he wished he could be like fire. He wished he could take and take and take, and feel no remorse, but that wasn't the case. There were something things even he couldn't do. Despite feeling nothing, he still had morals. He didn't care about how he felt, but he cared about how others did.
And so he watched the fire that danced before him, slowly making its way forward with a graceful destruction. A destruction so beautiful that he was captivated by it, and didn't mind if he would be destroyed by it in the process.
It was captivatingly beautiful.
Just like everything else in his life was.
This night was like every night before it. His hands were slipped into the pockets of his jacket, hood slipped atop of his head. He wore a black hood accompanied with black jeans, and his curled, black hair feel in front of his face. He nearly blended in with the night sky that was draped over him. He felt as if that he was part of night itself, so easily blended into its shadows. Almost as if it was trying to conceal him from everything else in the world. It was at night when he felt most at peace, too.
He had a bad habit of sneaking out during the late hours of the night. There was nothing he really needed to do at three in the morning, it wasn't as if there was a party or an even to go to. He just . . . did it. Maybe it was just for the fact that he liked knowing that he could, he couldn't think of any other reason for it.
So, he stalked down the streets of his town. Small lamp posts guided his path, but half of them were flickering out in his run down town. A place that once thrived, and was beginning to die. He could see it in the way that the local business were becoming lesser versions of themselves, the way that trash littered the street. No one really cared anymore about the state of their small town.
He gazed at the brick buildings that lined either side of the street, vines stealing the space and calling it home. It may have been the only thing there that truly lived and thrived, for he sure knew he didn't. He felt like he was walking through the motions of life, not truly living it.
He felt like he was just some small player in the game of life, and he was doing absolutely nothing. He felt useless and unnecessary, knowing his thoughts didn't matter to anyone of importance. His actions impacted nothing on a grand scale, he felt as if he was worthless. And not just him, but everyone in this damn town and any town like it.
He continued down the street, soon slipping into a small alleyway. He wouldn't really call it much of an alley, seeing that there was a small garden, a bench, and a path, but no one typically went over here. It was smashed in between two brick walls, a small break between the buildings that lined the street. He typically found himself coming here at night, it wasn't like there was anything else for him to choose from.
Regardless, it almost felt like his own little safe haven away from the rest of the world. No one could disturb him here, and no one else came here. At least, not that he knew of. He crept down the path, glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone saw him. There was no need to, he knew that. It was three in the morning anyway, but he had always been rather paranoid. He lived with a fear that festered within him, terrified that someone will find his escape in this world. It was the one thing that was only his, this perfect sense of solitude. This secret place, hidden away and something that he could hold dear.
He allowed himself to collapse against the bench, a sigh of relief passing his lips. It was as if a weight had been plucked off of him, and he was finally allowed to breathe. His chest nearly always felt tight, making it difficult for him to obtain the oxygen he desired. He was finally released from the shackles that held him, and he freely reached into his pocket. He retrieved a pack of cigarettes, gaining the bad habit the moment he turned eighteen. He had decided that it would bring him one step closer to feeling something, even if that feeling made him sick.
Tugging out his lighter, he flicked the switch and lighted the butt of the cigarette. Once it was lit, he brought it to his lips, and sucked in slowly. He took in a low, long breath, allowing the cigarette's toxins to fill his lungs. Slowly, he pulled it away from lips, watching as the wisps of smokes billowed up, dancing around his face.
A lazy grin tugged the sides of his lips, and they curled up ever so slightly as he stared at the orange hue on the butt of his cigarette. He still felt numb, still felt a sense of emptiness.
He sighed, bony elbows pressing against the tops of his knees. He buried his head in his hands, holding his cigarette out of the way so he didn't accidentally burn himself. Then again, that might be the closest he'll ever come to feeling pain.
He was lost and caught up in his thoughts, being hit by a torpedo of hopelessness and despair. A desperation deep inside, begging for something to happen. He wanted his life to change, he wanted to belong, and he wanted to do something meaningful. He couldn't do that here, and his biggest fear was that he'd never get out of this damned town.
Drowning in a sea of his mind, he was thrown off guard. Quite literally thrown. He went toppling from his seat on the bench, back smacking into cement and skull cracking against it. A hiss escaped his lips, feeling the searing pain in the back of his head. It was going to bruise, that was for damn sure. It might have even been bleeding.
He wheezed, the wind knocked out of his body. When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurred and for a moment, he thought he was hallucinating; unfortunately, he wasn't. The shadowed figured hovering over him was real, and he could see a glint of metal reflecting from the moonlight.
The figure had a knife on him, a knife he planned to use on him.
In seconds, the edge of the blade was pressed under his chin, digging slightly into the flesh. His grin was feral as he glanced up at the shadowy figure, realizing that he was in nearly the same apparel as him. A black hoodie, and a face set in a dark snarl.
He grinned like a fiend. The pain he underwent was exquisite, and he loved every second of it.
"Wallet," the shadow demanded, and he realized that he was being mugged. He was being fucking mugged. This was how he was going to go, wasn't it? By being mugged in the back alleyway that he used to see as a utopia. The world seemed to chew him up, spit him out, and then piss on him after being beaten and broken in every way imaginable. "Now," the man hissed, and he found himself released a choked, crazed sense of laughter.
His laughter was raspy, pained, as he stared into the sky deliriously. His eyes trained on the stars, counting them. There were so many out there, reminding him just how insignificant not only he was, but everyone else on this planet. They were a speck in the void. They were nothing.
His gaze left the inky sky and fell upon the blade glinting in the moonlight, eagerly offering, "Do it. I wonder if you have the balls to." His words were broken apart by various wheezes, still trying to regain his breath. "It's one thing to hold a blade, it's another to wield one."
His attacker had no chance to retort, a figure hovering over him. Fingers grabbed the back of his shirt, tossing the assailant off of him and toward the ground. He scrambled back instantly, almost solemn that the knife was no longer pressed against his throat. Either way, he shoved himself up and scrambled back, watching as a woman as graceful as the night reach for his attacker. Her fingers knotted in the man's hair, pulling his head back before smacking it against the concrete.
He shuddered, hearing a deafening crack, watching as blood slowly began to pool from underneath the man's head. Whoever he was, he was most certainly dead.
He simply stared at the woman, his murderous savior. This beautiful angel that was more lethal than imaginable.
She stared at him, and simply grinned as if she had finally found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It sent a series of uneasy shivers down his spine.
"It's time for you to join the gods, Knox."
Knox could smell the burning of his flesh. Fire danced around him, flicking against his forearms. His eyebrows were singed, and any hair that was once on his arms no longer existed. It had been consumed by the flames dancing around.
He had never undergone such excruciating pain, feeling the flames dancing along his skin and eating away at everything he was. Taking away his mobility, his skin, his blood, his bones. Beating him down until he was nothing but a pile of bones and ashes.
Knox kept his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming, his entire body alight as if he were a wick. This was what burning to death felt like, allowing himself to be consumed wholly. His body screamed and ached to jump out of his skin and run.
He couldn't bring himself to get up or do such a thing.
Any effort was futile, there was no means of escape. This was what was going to happen to him in the end, anyway. He knew that he was going to die at one point or another. Might as well be done now, and might as well feel something for the first time.
His flesh was melting, almost as if he was made of wax. He didn't even know that was possible.
The flames jumped along his legs, red welts erupting as his skin caught flame.
Knox pulled his fist out of his mouth, and then, he smiled.
☐☐☐☐☐
not edited.
you guys i went on a college visit and i am in love. i mean, if i could marry a college campus, i would marry it (that sounded weird i'm sorry). anyway, i really really hope you enjoyed this! sorry for the long wait, but hopefully it was worth the wait. also, i'm super excited because only 2 more chapters like these and then i'll be finished with act i. i can then start act ii which explains basically all of act i and starts the competition (i'm very excited for the competition). be sure to let me know what you thought if you liked it! i love hearing your thoughts!
also, i entered this for the watty awards this year! the profile looks so sleek this year!! i love it!