December Writing Challenge: Song About the Moon

[Sean *]

It's writing challenge time! To enter, just post a ficlet (300-4000 words suggested) in this thread. When the voting for this month's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well.

The Challenge: Pick a song. Now write a story based on that song. The story must include dialogue, and at least two lines from the song must be included in the dialogue.

The rules:

• Characters must be in Hammel canon, but the ficlets are not site canon unless expressly stated.
  
• Entries must be more than 300 words.
  
• You can enter no more than three ficlets. Any ficlets posted after the original 3 will not be considered for voting. If you want to post more, however, have fun.
  
• Ficlets must be titled with the title of the song that inspired them. Also, link to the song to share with the rest of us.

[Stefan Spencer]

Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down

It had been a very long, alcohol filled Saturday night.

Not that any of Stefan’s nights (especially on the weekends) were ever short and sober engagements. But this Sunday morning seemed especially hard to deal with between the hangover and the cold morning’s effect on his bag leg.

Stefan had always preached that the best cure for a hangover was another drink. Unfortunately, it seemed the only alcohol left in the house at the moment was a half empty beer he found on the counter by the stove. Not exactly what he’d been hoping for first thing in the morning. So after locating some pants, a decent shirt, and his cane, Stefan ran a hand through his hair and headed out the door in search of the nearest open bar in town.

Churchkey Bar seemed the perfect destination for a Sunday morning. Although the place was empty, save the bored looking bar man behind the bar, so it wasn’t exactly a party. Still it was better than sitting around his place devoid of human contact. And better yet, they had alcohol here.

“The beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,” Stefan said as he slide onto a bar stood. “So I’ll have one more for dessert.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow at the unexpected comment, but still smiled as he handed Stefan a beer. “Looks like you had an interesting night, Dr. Swag,” the man said, watching Stefan drain the beer.

It wasn’t unusual for the bartenders in Pilot Ridge to know Stefan by name. In fact most of them knew where he lived to, after helping him to a cab after a night of a little too much drinking. As for the nickname…Stefan couldn’t recall how it had come about. But he was proud to have earned his Ph. D. in swagger never-the-less.

As for the question, Stefan couldn’t exactly recall how’s he spent the night either. He had a vague feeling there had been a woman…or perhaps a man…or was it both. He was sure there had been a bed. “I guess it was,” Stefan said, still trying to rub the sleepiness and the hangover out of his head. “I think I’ll need something stronger next,” he added, emptying the last of his beer.

As the man poured out the usual scotch, Stefan swiveled in the chair to take in the empty bar room. “God, I hate mornings,” he mumbled to himself. While some might feel that the dawn of the new day was a time to look to the future and feel hopeful, Stefan felt it was the loneliest time of the day. Even if there were people out and about, they all had their lives to live. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand being in the darkened empty bar a moment longer.

“I’ll take this to go,” he said, pouring his scotch into his flask and tossing his payment for the drinks on the counter.

It was starting to get colder out, but there were still people out on the street as Stefan walked out. Heading to Sunday breakfast with their families. Children in their Sunday best holding hands with their parents. It was just all to much. The Norman Rockwell of it all was getting to Stefan and he turned into an alley, the flask finding his way to his mouth as he did.

He stumbled home eventually, with the plans to sleep the rest of the day away and poke his head back out when the night crowd was back on the streets. That was where he felt most comfortable. No connections. No responsibility. No shortage of someone lovely to share a conversation (or more) with.

“’Cause there’s something in a Sunday,” Stefan mumbled to himself as he turned toward his door, that led to his empty house. “That makes a body feel alone.”

[Danielle Cooper]

Morning Song

Ring...Ring...Ring

The sound of the telephone caused one of the two bodies to slowly stir from under the warm covers. A blonde mess of hair slowly peaked out from under the blankets, and sleepy brown eyes peered over at the bedside clock.

Who was possibly calling at 7:13 in the morning?

Charlie let out a soft grunt in response, but slowly started to separate herself from the girl who was nuzzled up against her side. As she finally managed to free herself and start to get up, she felt familiar hands reach out and wrap around her waist.

“Let the phone ring...” Charlie couldn't help but to smile her partner's words, and turned to face Dani as the younger continued, “Let's go back to sleep.” Dani looked sleepily up at Charlie with a smile, a sight that Charlie felt she could get used to.

Although it was clear that Dani didn't want her to move, the younger girl still let Charlie grab her phone. She missed the call, but the caller ID read that it was her editor, Dave. Charlie frowned slightly; as much as she loved this new job, it required a lot of work. Especially on days like this one where she wanted to just let the world spin outside their door and Dani was the only one she wanted to see.

“Tell your boss you're sick.” Charlie looked over at her bed where Dani was giving her a playful grin, “Hurry, get back in, I'm getting' cold.”

You know what? Why not? Charlie returned a similar grin before sending a quick text to her editor, explaining that she was ill. Quickly, she made her way back to the bed, sliding in under the covers over to Dani, “Get over here and warm my hands up, girl,” Charlie giggled, wrapping her arms around Dani, who she just loved to hold.

“Ah! So cold!” Dani squirmed at the touch, but embraced it nonetheless. She pressed her nose against Charlie's, “Does that mean you're gonna stay?”

Charlie ran a hand gently up and down Dani's back, drawing patterns as she did so. “It does.” Charlie confirmed with a nod, and Dani's eyes lit up at those words. It had been a while since they were able to do anything of the sort. “Nothing to worry about today. So stop thinking about what your teacher said.” Charlie added, knowing well that Dani was concerned about a test she had taken. Today wasn't the day for that.

“But--”

Charlie silenced Dani with a light kiss before she could interject. “Stop worrying about it – Sparks has already been fed.” Dani immediately relaxed into the kiss, already liking how this day was going. She pulled herself closer to Charlie, nuzzling into Charlie's neck before giving it a few light kisses.

It wasn't long before the two of them drifted off to sleep again. The pair were put at ease knowing the phone had been put on silent, dishes were left in the sink, and the door wouldn't be answered. There was no need to worry about such things.

*****

The sun shined into the bedroom only a couple hours later, the light waking Dani up. She stretched as well as she could with Charlie attached to her side. She smiled over at the sleeping blonde and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

Quietly, she slipped out of the bed. Her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor and she shivered. Dani grabbed one of Charlie's cardigans and slipped it on as she made her way to the kitchen. With a yawn, she put on a pot of hot water and started up the coffee maker.

A few minutes later, Charlie woke to the enticing smell of fresh coffee. She propped herself up on the bed just as Dani made her way towards it.

“Mornin',” Dani smiled, leaning forward and giving Charlie a kiss. Charlie almost dragged the girl back into bed if it weren't for the fact that she had been holding hot beverages.

As Dani pulled back, she handed Charlie a cup. “Coffee with sugar and cream.” She nodded to Charlie's cup, “And decaf herbal tea.” Dani nodded to her own cup.

They stepped out into Charlie's apartment balcony. As the sun was slowly getting higher, it was getting warmer, and Dani let the sun warm her feet as she leaned back in her chair. They drank in comfortable silence, holding hands and looking out on Pilot Ridge.

[Noa Reese]

Barely Alive
Trigger warning: suicidal thoughts
Canon, December 2013

Another year gone. It felt so significant; another year farther from innocence, another year of denial, another year closer to death...

Noa didn't know how she was coping, with this secret eating her from the inside, like acid gnawing away at her ribcage. Some days were fine, she forgot about it - had fun, even - but then she'd hit a rough patch, and it all crumbled. She remembered who she was, what she'd been through, what she was doing, and she was sick. It wasn't that she blamed herself for- well, she did - but the sickness was at her own lies. She still hadn't told anyone. It was disgusting, to see herself pretending everything was okay when there was this secret rotting and festering inside of her.

The year had been going well enough. Well, up until September. Then everything began to splinter. Just remembering that awful week, that miserable angry breakdown, was exhausting. And, worst of all; nothing had changed.

She still felt alone. Unknown. Like a liar. Like an idiot. Like she'd brought this on herself, like she'd never get away from it, like she shouldn't even be-

With a sharp gulp of air, Noa stopped herself, her eyes jerking open in quick realization. Carefully, she took a shaky breath, slowly removing her nails from where they were digging into her skin, attempting to blink the unshed tears away. This was stupid. She was being stupid. What kind of ridiculous self-centered person was she, anyway? What kind of idiot-

...What kind of coward, couldn't even make up her mind...

But she could. She needed to. She had to make this cycle stop its endless poisonous repetition.

The feeling of the rough edge of her desk drawer drew her back to the surface again, even as she glanced down. Why was she- oh. No, that wasn't....

Well, for one, it wasn't very efficient.

And for another, she'd tried that once, and it had been hard to swallow - no pun intended, that many pills could never go down easily.

Wait - the real point here was that she wasn't going to do it. She was struggling to stay above the waves of self loathing lapping about her, but for now she was in the clear, breathing air.

There was a clattering as she dropped the bottle back in, and a thunk as she pushed the drawer closed, and moved away from the desk, retreating to her bed. Just the idea that she'd almost considered it brought the tears back, and this time they couldn't be blinked away.

And with tears came thoughts. And with thoughts came more tears. And the waters were rising again, dragging her down in the undertow to be bashed repeatedly against the rocks...

She had to clear her mind, she needed a distraction... but depression had reared it's ugly head, it's teeth had sunk into her neck, drained her of any motivation she might have, and she barely had the energy to lift her arm, let alone stand. So she curled into herself, that most comfortable position that felt so defended, and tried to sleep.

And that was when she heard her cell phone buzzing.

The sobbing had stopped, at least. She'd brought her hysterics down to a silent trickle of tears - very navigable over the phone - but it wasn't an incoming call, just a text. Still, glancing at the inconsequential words on the screen reminded her that, for the first time in two years, she actually wasn't trapped by her lies. She had someone she could tell the truth to. Or, at least, she thought she could.

-----

"Hey. You have to come over."

"Um..."

"Seriously, Zach, I'm not asking, I really really need you here. I said 'please.'"

"... Well, actually, you didn-"

"Well I am now." Noa sniffed, and dragged the back of her hand across her cheek, angrily. "...Please, Zach."

"Are you-"

If he said anything about her crying, she might just lose it - either tears or shouting, she wasn't sure which; anger and desolation just went so well together, she often mixed up the reactions.

"Are you okay?"

She paused. "...I'm alright. But don't fuck with me tonight," she warned, "I just... Just, please, come over."

"I- yeah, I'll be there."

-----

The wait was agony, tempered with that tiny stinging ache of hope, like a syringe jabbed into her chest that hadn't yet administered the anesthetic. Then he arrived. And he didn't try to make her talk. He even endured her pathetic clinging onto his arm as they lay on her bed in silence for a solid ten minutes.

And then she did talk. She told him everything. Everything - from when she was first diagnosed with depression, to how she'd felt when her ability kicked in, to that anxiety that always hung around her, doubting if her friends would stay her friends - all the way through....

She managed to make it through the past two years, if haltingly. She admitted to everything. The... the assault... the debilitating depression, even the events of just hours before.

"I guess I just... I just kept on wishing that the last year wasn't real." Noa's voice was hoarse as she sniffled again. "I wish I could go back a year - two, really - and change it, but... I mean, that's never gonna happen." Another sniff. "...Um... Sorry about your shirt," she mumbled, grudgingly.

Zach didn't say anything, not right away. Noa glanced up at him, but he was staring at the ceiling with a furrowed brow. "Noa... We're alive." It was as though he were settling some argument that they hadn't been having.

That was an odd... Why had he said that? "...Barely alive," she qualified, pointedly.

He shook his head and turned to face her, scooting down a bit so they were face to face. "But we're alive."

She didn't get it. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Her tone was flat and incredulous.

He lips tugged into an odd half-smile, almost amused, relieved to have her sounding like herself again, and Noa was confused when he kissed her forehead. That seemed like a very post-coitus move, coming from Zach. But this was most definitely not post-coitus. "What was that for?"

He shrugged, an awkward motion made more awkward by the fact that he was lying on his side, one arm pinned beneath him. "I don't know - you seemed like you could use-"

"Was that a pity kiss?" Her eyes narrowed, annoyed, "I swear, if that was a pity kiss-" Why did he look so entertained by this? Was this relief, or was he actually laughing after all the shit she'd just recounted so painfully?

"Calm down - here-" he rubbed his thumb over her forehead, hiding his smile as he attempted to remove the invisible evidence of the kiss.

"Hey-!" Noa slapped his hand away, blushing a little, "I didn't mean-" Was she really about to say she wanted to keep it? A kiss on the forehead? God, that wasn't even a tangible item, what was she, six? She bit her tongue, but wove her fingers in with his, capturing his hand so he wouldn't try to wipe it off again.

There was a brief moment of subtle realization on both their parts, that - well, look at that, they were holding hands - but neither of them said anything, or made a move to change it. Instead, they just kind of looked at the odd phenomenon until Noa rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, but not releasing his hand. It felt good. Solid. Grounding.

The room was silent for a minute or two, then, "Have you ever...?" Her voice was a quiet murmur, her hand tightening on his nervously.

He turned onto his back as well. "...Yeah. Once."

"What- Why... What did you-"

"Same thing. Pills. I was just fed up, and I told myself I just had an awful headache." He gave a bitter chuckle. "Like a headache ever requires that many... Anyway. I guess I didn't know which ones do real damage. I had bad heartburn for a few days, but I didn't even throw up." There was a moment of brief hesitation. "...And, no. They never found out."

Noa bit her lip, but the curiosity got the better of her. "...Just the one-"

"I will fight for every breath left in this life. I'm not about to give it away." There was no arguing there.

Noa jumped a bit in surprise as he squeezed her hand back, and she glanced over to him, but his eyes were firmly planted on the ceiling. "Zach?"

"Hm?"

Noa let out a deep sigh, the anger and hatred and terror subsiding. "How do you do it?" All that was left was a tiny touch of everyday fear, but it rang out so clearly in her voice, she felt like she was half her age.

"Family. Friends. Hobbies. The same things you do, on the good days. Finding things I love and surrounding myself with them. ...ish. Obviously, that's not a constant thing, there's still all the stupid everyday mundane things that annoy you or stress you out... But yeah, things you like to do, people you care about-"

"Love."

"What?"

"You said love, the first time. Things you love." She wasn't entirely sure what she was saying, but Zach didn't seem to be misreading her, just listening. "I don't know if... I dunno."

"The friend thing?"

Noa nodded. "I don't think they know... I just feel like I'm these two different people. And I don't think anyone likes the second one."

"....It would be way too cliche to say that I do, right?"

Noa was quiet. No, that's just what I need to hear. And when he didn't respond, she felt a jolt of fear surge through her. Her fingers shifted nervously in their grasp, and she glanced to their still entwined hands. After a moment of pause, she looked to her other hand, forming it into a fist.

"...you're not gonna punch-"

"This is how big my heart is." Noa held her fist up in the air, silhouetting it against the ceiling. "That pathetic little thing. ...And I'm scared of it."

Zach was quiet. He was being patient, but Noa doubted that he understood.

"I mean-" she took a second to try to straighten out her thoughts. "...I don't think... I don't think it's attainable. Or if it is, it's not good enough. I'm scared I'll be searching my whole life and never find it, or I'll find it's not this great big thing that everyone makes it out to be. Or it will be, and I'll fuck it up. Or it won't be, and I'll still fuck it up." She felt that fear beginning to swell again, building upon itself, the thoughts skittering on the edge of her mind, crawling in inch by inch-

She looked down to their hands again, as Zach squeezed hers.

"You're gonna be okay."

The illogical flood of relief crashed over her, and she was so tempted to tell him- or kiss him- but something was nagging at the back of mind, another part of her altogether, reminding her of something that was missing. She'd expected to hear... more. Why weren't there any undertones to this discussion? No tones at all. No truth. No lies.

...No discussion.

"...I wish that was true." Noa felt the difference immediately as her lips moved - her real, physical lips - against her tearstained pillow, a sense of vertigo briefly passing over her as she dragged her eyes open to find herself back where she started.

Still curled in a ball. Still alone.

She probably should've realized: she'd never heard Zach be that eloquent.

The phone buzzed again, and she flipped it open, weakly, expecting the same thing she'd read before (even as she realized that she hadn't read anything before, just had the impression of an unimportant message). Except this time, there actually was a text message. Again, not important, just a Facebook reminder. Still...

Running her finger along the edge of the phone, she flipped it open and closed a few times. Finally, she pressed the button.

"...Hey. You have to- ...Can you come over? Please?"

[Riley Coleson]

Romeo and Juliet

Note: A fic based on the relationship between Layla Harlow and Riley Coleson

Walking down the streets, Riley couldn't think of anything but his dearest Layla. In his ears he had his headphones plugged in, singing loudly to the lovely tunes of one love song after the other. He looked around once more. The streets were covered in darkness except a streetlight outside Layla's house. He crept from the shadows and placed himself in the center of the light and turned towards the balcony outside his sweetheart's bedroom.

The boom-blaster he had held in his left hand, he lifted up and placed it above his head. Loudly, before turning on the sound, he called to his sweetheart, ''You and me babe, how about it?''

The yelling brought Layla's attention and with careful steps she stepped out on the balcony and looked down. A smile was brought to her lips as she saw her dear husband-to-be down on the soft grass below. ''Hey, Riley! You nearly gave me a heart attack!'', she called back and leaned against the railing, the smile never once faltering from her soft, red lips. She peeked down at the boy below as he turned on the boom-blaster and the lovely music started playing. Layla knew the song, and sung along. ''Hey, la, my boyfriend's back!'', she sung. It was late, and they both knew Riley probably shouldn't have come, playing his music so loudly.

But they didn't care. No one could do anything about it anyways. They were so happy those two, together again. Nothing could harm them. Nothing could tear them apart. Not fate, nor family. Maybe their love was wrong, maybe it wasn't right. But as long as they were happy, who cared? They were from different families, one rich, one poor, both dirty, both mean. But even so, their dream was oh but the same. They dreamed it for each other, they dreamed it for the world.

''You can fall for chains of silver, you can fall for chains of gold. You can fall for pretty strangers, and the promises that they hold. You promised me everything, you promised me thick and thin, so don't you come around and say, 'Oh, Riley, yeah, you know I used to have a scene with him.''', Riley said to his beloved, as if only to make sure Layla still kept his heart with hers. Layla smiled so tenderly as she reached down her hand, ''When we made love under the cherry tree, you used to cry, and what did I say? I love you like the stars above, I love you till I die. And there is a place for us my dear, you know I cannot lie.''

Riley smiled and dropped the box, reaching his hand for his one true love. He wasn't a picture perfect, he didn't always say the right words. He didn't have the sweetest tongue, and there was so much he could not give her. But if there was anything he had, or ever would get, he would surely give them all to her, his one and only love.

Layla disappeared from the balcony, and moments later she came running of the soft grass, her arms stretched out towards he love. ''I love you like the stars above!'', she called out. ''And I love you till I die!'', he continued and ran towards her. Their bodies melted together as they touched, like ice cream melts in the hot air. 

And with that their fingers intertwined. Not by touch, but with the silent invisible bonds of true love found.

And never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo...

[Dr. Sean Neville]

And So It Goes

The woman flagged him down with an exaggerated wave and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks for coming out on short notice. I ordered you a Yuengling.”

“I’m always happy to come out for you,” Josh assured her, sliding into the seat across from her. “But I was a little surprised. I thought you usually call Greg...”

“I do, but Greg had a late meeting.” Daphne offered him another unconvincing smile and reached across the table to pat his shoulder. “It means a lot that you could meet me.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Straight men are jerks,” she said with a sigh. Shaking her head, she said, “With his secretary, on the bedspread that I knitted in college.”

Typically, Josh didn’t like to feel singled out as somehow different from straight men as a result of his sexual orientation. Society did enough of that already. However, Daphne was obviously upset and trying not to lump him in when expressing her distress, and her (now ex-) boyfriend’s behavior was utterly reprehensible. So, he held his tongue on that point. “That’s terrible,” he conceded. “Did you kick him out?”

“I didn’t even let him put his pants on.” Daphne seemed almost proud of that. “I let her get dressed though.”

The attorney blinked at her. “Why?”

Daphne shrugged and then reached for the drink that she had been nursing. “She didn’t cheat on me.” She emptied the glass before she continued, “Besides, if it wasn’t her, it would be someone else. I know how people like him operate; they’ll swear their fidelity...until a new one comes along.”

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about that.” Josh took the opportunity to taste his beer as well, since Daphne was drinking already. “I wouldn’t be able to look at someone who slept with my boyfriend.”

“That’s more theoretical than anything else, isn’t it?” Daphne asked, although she actually seemed...grateful for the focus shift, marginal as it was. “You haven’t dated anyone since the blond, right?”

“His name is Simon, but yes.” Josh didn’t want this to be about him or his personal life. If Daphne wanted to vent about her horrible, cheating boyfriend, then he could listen. But he didn’t want to talk about Simon, or his failed romantic life, or the fact that he was doomed to be single for the rest of his years on Earth. That was fine; he didn’t want to be in a relationship, anyway. “I do better when I’m single.”

Daphne shook her head, in that moment reminding him so much of the seniors in his social circle when he had been a mere freshman. So sure of themselves, so sure of him and always able to make judgments about him, as devastating as they were apt. “We should find you a boyfriend.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend,” Josh sputtered. He reached for his napkin to wipe his mouth and chin free of any dribbles of beer. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

Daphne roundly ignored his protests. “Let’s at least make you a dating profile.”

“How about we make you a dating profile?”

She pouted at him, that same look she’d used back in college. “I’m on the rebound, Josh. Nothing good ever comes from relationships on the rebound. If I met someone while I feel like this, then that would be my worst mistake since not noticing his tendencies in the first place.”

The attorney inwardly conceded that point. He had seen plenty of friends on the rebound, and he remembered how he’d been after The Break Up, even if it had been his fault. It was better to steer clear of bad decisions, even if it resulted in something humiliating. At least he knew Daphne, had known her for more than a decade, and she still wanted to be friends with him even after he and Sean had broken up. “If I agree, you have to let me get drunk first.”

Daphne smiled, and this one seemed a little closer to real. “I’ll buy.”

It took a few beers, during which they each ranted a bit about trickledown economics. Finally, Josh felt relaxed enough to indulge his friend in her request. “All right...what do we have to do to make a dating profile?”

Daphne rummaged through her purse, emerging triumphantly with a pen and mini notepad after a couple of moments of searching. “What do you want in a boyfriend?”

“I can’t answer that. I told you, I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“We’re pretending,” she reminded him.

“Fine.” Josh heaved a sigh and sucked on his bottom lip in thought. “He needs to be smart. Well-educated and a voracious reader. Maybe someone who speaks more than one language. He should keep up with current events but also read books for pleasure. He has to be liberal, of course, and want to fight the good fight, and he needs to care about all of the injustice in the world. He should have a good job that he likes, and that helps other people instead of just caring about money.”

Daphne nodded as she scribbled this down onto her notepad.

“And he should have a lot of compassion, not just for people who are oppressed, but for anyone having a bad day. He should be gentle and easygoing, and he should be a good listener, but willing and able to talk about anything and everything.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she continued to write, not interrupting him now that he had finally started to open up and indulge her.

“He should have a good sense of humor, but be witty and gentle about it, instead of being cruel or crude or making puns.” Josh shivered at the thought. “Hypothetically, I’d like someone who can keep up with me. Someone social and gregarious and friendly. Someone who likes a good party and a good beer and who has decent taste in music. Someone affectionate but not too clingy; someone who values individuality instead of Hallmark romance. Someone willing to indulge me and let me indulge him. Someone creative.”

Josh paused then, looking over at her. “Is this getting too specific? I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but you said I should pretend...?”

Her brow furrowed again, but she encouraged him, “It’s fine. Keep going.”

“Maybe someone who can cook, or at least won’t judge me for eating sandwiches so often. And he should have hobbies that he’s passionate about. Not stamp collecting, but something like...gardening or art or crafts, something like that.” Josh actually smiled at the thought, tipsy enough to get caught up in his fantasy.

“He should be close to my age, no more than three or four years older or younger.” Anything more than that would put them in two very different places in life, and the attorney didn’t want that. Not even in a hypothetical lover. “And he should be tall. I like tall men with strong arms.”

Daphne pursed her lips together in thought as she finished writing. “Anything else?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Yes...I guess it is.”

It took a minute for Josh to fully put together that she seemed...off after listening to his recitation. It didn’t make sense to him, since she was the one who’d insisted that he do this in the first place. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

She seemed to study him for a moment, taking a good look at him. Finally, she asked, “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” Sure, he was a little tipsy, but he wasn’t that out if it.

“You just described Sean.”

Josh was taken aback by her remark, and he firmly shook his head, quick to deny the mere suggestion. “No, I didn’t.”

Daphne continued to stare at him in disbelief. “You did. You couldn’t have done a better job if you’d said ‘hippie telepath.’”

“Stop.”

“Josh-”

“Stop.” His vehemence was as uncharacteristic as it was uncoordinated. He flailed, knocking over his beer and spilling it onto the table and narrowly missing his lap. Quickly, he grabbed a handful of napkins, setting them down to soak up the liquid before it spread. More quietly, he said, “It isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.” Her expression was sad, as though she felt bad for him. He was drunk enough that this didn’t immediately register, and thus didn’t fill him with the typically attendant guilt and shame. “You haven’t told Sean, have you?”

“There’s nothing to tell Sean,” Josh replied, as he slumped down in the seat. He wanted this conversation to end now; this wasn’t what he’d agreed to do when he had promised to meet her this evening.

Her expression didn’t change. “You’re the only one who knows.” Then she abided by his wish and let the topic go. “Have you met Greg’s new beau?”

The attorney was grateful for the topic (if not thematic) change. “No. Greg and I don’t see each other much.” He had his reasons for avoiding the older blond man, ones on which he didn’t want to elaborate at this time.

“We should all get together sometime. I think you’d like him.” Daphne raised her hand to flag down a server. “Maybe after I take everything to Good Will.”

“What are you taking to Good Will?”

“Everything my ex left in my apartment.” At Josh’s curious look, she shrugged her shoulders. “He forfeited his rights to it, and I certainly don’t want to keep it. Better to put it to some better use.”

“Do you need help?” Josh didn’t know the etiquette here, but he supposed he should offer.

“Thanks, but Sean owes me one, and he’s due back in town in a couple of weeks.”

That was true. He and the telepath already had plans. “Oh.” Fortunately, Josh was a little too tipsy to inquire into just what Sean owed her from. This was good, because he wouldn’t want to hear the answer.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Take It to the Limit

Sunday suppers had been a ritual in the Neville home since the children had been young. When Sean had gone away to college – as opposed to his boarding school – the ritual had persisted, and the same had occurred when Kathleen had followed suit after graduating from high school. The ritual had persisted through college, medical school, and a successful career for their son. The ritual had persisted through college, marriage, and family for their daughter.

Sunday suppers were a time for checking in with each other, for discussing matters that might not come up during telephone conversations and other visits. At least for some members of the family. Sean had never felt comfortable bringing up anything too personal during the evening ritual, not since his personal priorities had veered completely off-course from familial expectations.

He’d come out of the closet as bisexual, but not during a Sunday supper. He’d announced his atheism (his family preferred to call him “lapsed”), but not during a Sunday supper. Even when he dated women, he didn’t bring them home to meet his family during Sunday suppers. They were a carefully neutral event, where he spoke less and less as each week came and went.

The Reagan Years had finally ended, but now George Bush was in the Whitehouse. Trickledown economics didn’t work. AIDS continued to ravage the gay community, the immigrant communities, and communities of poor people throughout the nation. The U.S. was selling arms in the Middle East and might actually send troops in if the situation continued as it was. And nobody wanted to talk about Nelson Mandela with him.

“Toes!” Ryan announced with a gleeful smile when Sean walked through the door.

The telepath returned the smile, hanging his coat before he crossed to his nephew and hefted him into his arms. “You’re getting big, aren’t you, Buddy?”

The baby continued to smile up at him, utterly enchanted by the presence of his uncle. As though they didn’t go through this ritual every week.

Speaking over the boy’s shoulder, Sean said, “I’m sorry I’m late. I had an emergency call this afternoon, and then I got stuck in traffic.”

Kathleen looked over from the sofa, where she had been watching the news with her husband and their father. “You work Sundays now?”

“I’ve worked Sundays since medical school.”

Before that line of conversation could continue, Colin spoke up, “Mary’s in the-”

“I know.” Sean tapped his temple with his index finger for emphasis, and then offered a smile to his father before disappearing into the kitchen.

His mother didn’t let him help with the meal preparation. However, he was assigned to set the table because he had been late; Sean didn’t complain about that.

Then, after the general small talk, he lapsed into silence while the other adults spoke around him. They discussed that morning’s Mass. They discussed Colin’s job and the elder Doctor Neville’s patients. They discussed politics. Every so often Ryan would interject with a “Mama” or one of the other couple of words on his current list of recognizable exclamations.

“Is something on your mind?” William asked his son, in an attempt to draw him into the conversation.

All eyes turned to the telepath, who didn’t look up from his plate. “I have a job interview next week.”

That caught the attention of the others seated around the table. “I thought your practice was flourishing,” his father replied.

“It is.”

“Where is the interview?” His mother asked. Perhaps it was at a better-known facility, one that would provide him with research opportunities.

“Hammel.”

That killed the conversation quickly enough. The telepath increased his mental shields a bit more, bracing himself for the inevitable reactions. He could see it in his parents’ faces, and in his sister’s.

His brother-in-law didn’t recognize the name. “What’s Hammel?”

“That’s the school that took Sean away when he became meta.”

“They didn’t take me away, Kathleen .” The telepath suppressed a sigh. “They need a new psychiatrist, and Robert put in a good word-”

“So it was Doctor Hopkins’s idea?”

“It was my idea; Robert simply offered to help me get my foot in the door.”

The elder Doctor Neville’s expression made it plain that there would be no further discussion on this topic. At least not during supper.

They were largely silent until it was time to clear the table. Sean offered to do that, and to tend to washing dishes, so that everyone else could relax. Colin, too, chose to hold back and offered to help.

“I thought you made $200,000 last year.”

“I did.” Sean picked up the plates, scraping orts onto one plate so that he could dispose of it and more easily stack the dishes. The telepath didn’t typically discuss his finances with other people, but the family all used the same accountant and it inevitably came up in conversation.

“Does Hammel offer commensurate salary?”

“It will be a pay cut, but the cost of living is different up there. They also offer a very generous benefits package.”

“Health insurance?”

“Health insurance, dental coverage, a steady pension plan, consistent vacation time, paid sick days, paternity leave for when the time comes.”

“Kathleen never made them sound that progressive.”

“Kathleen and I have somewhat different interpretations of my time there.” Sean set the plates down in the sink after clearing them, and then reached for the rubber gloves so that he could wash the dishes.

Colin set the cutlery down in the sink, reaching around the taller man. “So you approve of the institution?”

“I wouldn’t take a job interview if I didn’t.”

The younger man considered that for a moment, before he asked, “How much of a pay cut is it?”

“What does it matter? It’s my checkbook that will see the difference.”

Colin was taken aback by the question, as though his reasons should have been obvious. “We’re all used to a certain lifestyle, and it’s so hard to change...”

The telepath inhaled sharply through his nose.

Colin paused, because he recognized that same behavior in his wife. Anytime she’d been frustrated with him during her pregnancy, she breathed through her nose, and then, if he wasn’t careful, she lost her temper with him. At the time, he had attributed it to hormones and her feminine mannerisms. Now, he wondered if he had been wrong to do so.

“My career choices, and my financial decisions, don’t affect anyone else.” Sean turned on the faucet, heating the water before he applied the dish soap. “I’m responsible with money, and I pay my debts. If I have to spend less because of a salary change, then I’m prepared to do that. Besides, I don’t even have this job yet; I might not even get it.”

“Do you think you’re unqualified?” Colin asked, as though that was an appropriate question. “Everyone else seems to think this is foretold, since you have the interview.”

“I’m qualified. Qualifications alone don’t give jobs, and there are other people far more qualified than I am. I don’t know how many people are applying for the position, or if they want to hire within.” He inhaled softly and then exhaled. “You work at a firm; you know how it works.”

“I work at a firm, not a school. Besides, we hire based on merit.”

Sean whipped his head around so quickly that his neck suffered for his impulsiveness. He narrowed his blue eyes at the shorter man. “You’re joking.”

Colin puffed up a bit. He had never liked the feeling of being dismissed, and he tried very hard to fit in with his in-laws, not to make waves. It was difficult, since, in some ways, they were similar to his own family and then so different in others. Sean had always been a wild card. “I’m serious. We do merit-based hiring and promotions; it’s a fair system.”

The telepath scoffed, softly. “That fair, merit-based system incidentally hires no meta-humans, no out gay people, no people with disabilities, no liberals, few people of color, few non-Christians, few women, and, if memory serves, most of the women are in clerical positions.”

Colin opened his mouth to reply, but Sean lifted one gloved hand to cut him off. “I’ve met your boss. I’ll assure you that I know his biases, and so, if I were you, I wouldn’t try to defend the false pretense of merit.”

“He’s not a bad person,” Colin was quick to defend. He had the sudden inclination to shut the kitchen doors, given the turn that the conversation had taken. Rather than second-guess whether that inclination began with him or with the younger Doctor Neville, he acted on it, crossing the kitchen before quietly shutting the doors.

“I’m not going to debate his human foibles or your impression of him. You don’t work in a meritocracy, because nobody works in a meritocracy; that’s my only point.” Sean turned back around and, feeling the heat of the water and seeing the accompanying steam, he began to scrub the first of the dishes.

“If nobody works in a meritocracy, then that means you don’t work in a meritocracy.”

“I’m self-employed and have zero staff, so I don’t hire, period. However, medicine isn’t a meritocracy. There are a lot of people who are smarter than me, or who would be better at my job than I am, and who need the money more than I do. But, because of our system and the circumstances of their lives, they’ll never achieve what I have. It doesn’t make me better than them, and it would be laughable to pretend otherwise.”

“I don’t know how you can say that. This country is better than it’s ever been.”

It took every bit of self-control that the telepath possessed in order to prevent himself from rolling his eyes at the younger man. “It is for us, because we’re wealthy.”

“We’re not wealthy.”

“This entire family is in the top income bracket, and in a fairer system, our tax liability would be 50% higher than it is.”

“Our taxes are high enough as it is.”

“If that was true, then why did we get tax cuts? The system works better for people with fewer resources than we have when we pay higher taxes, and our lives aren’t impacted in any tangible way. I’m not appreciatively better off for the extra money in my pockets, but the people whose benefits have been cut are far worse off for not having them. It’s as unsustainable as it is unreasonable and unprincipled.” Sean moved on to the next dish when he finished with his lecture and with the first dish.

“I don’t know how you can speak that way about the greatest country in the world.” Colin was frightfully serious as he spoke those words, making it plain that he truly believed the articulated sentiment.

“You know, I’ve always been a dreamer.” Sean inwardly conceded that might be a glib reply, but even his patience had limits, and this conversation had quickly ventured from mildly irritating to mind-numbingly surreal. “And I’ve always taken some inspiration from the adage ‘as you do to the least of my brothers, this you do to me.’”

Colin ruffled at that. He’d recognized the source of the quote, which had been the telepath’s intention. “I thought you’d renounced your faith years ago.”

“One has little to do with the other.” Sean placed another rinsed dish on the rack, before moving on to the next. “Faith is neither necessary nor sufficient for morality.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The psychiatrist sighed softly. “It means that you can spend all your time making money, if that’s what you want. That isn’t me, and I don’t need outside critique of my priorities in my work or outside of it.”

“If you have other priorities, then why do you work on Sundays while I’m the one with a wife and child of my own?” The question left Colin’s lips before his brain could stop him. When he’d realized what he’d said, his eyes widened, and he quickly sputtered, “I didn’t mean-”

“Go play with your son,” Sean said, his voice carefully even.

“Sean, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression-”

The telepath shut off the faucet, turning back around to face the shorter man. “Don’t dig yourself deeper and patronize me in the process. Go play with your son.”

Colin took the hint. He murmured an apology but quickly crossed the kitchen, opened the doors, and exited the room, leaving the older man to his solitude in the process.

The exchange was perfectly emblematic of why Sean had agreed to the job interview in the first place.

[Dryope *]

The Coventry Carol

---

Ten year old Bobby Bernstein huddled at the bottom of he stairs, arms wrapped around his chest miserably. The adults were in the living room, talking in hushed voices.

They always talked in hushed voices.

Anna and her husband had recently moved in with them, turned out of their house. It was a wonder anyone could afford a house at all, with so many unemployed. His own father had been out of work for as long as he could remember, but at least they had a place to live.

His older sister's sigh could be heard even over the mewling of her infant daughter. "Woe is me," she whispered, voice shaky with the distress that was endemic in their lives. "Poor child. Oh, if only Robert could take you with him."

There was the sound of rustling fabric, and his mother's voice responded, so soft as to be nearly inaudible. "She's only a month old. This poor youngling needs her mother."

Robert was certain that he heard sobs that weren't from his niece.

"We're doing our best to find passage for you and Pippa," his father broke in, but his voice sounded so bleak. "For to preserve the both of our children, and our grandchild. It's just so difficult...they're marking our passports now."

Pippa let out a squeal at that moment, and more rustling could be heard. "Little tiny child," Anna whispered in dismal affection.

Robert shuffled his feet unhappily. His parents had been planning on sending him away for months, perhaps longer. But he didn't want to leave.

Tears began to roll down his cheeks, followed by loud sniffling. The voices in the living room ceased

Heavy footsteps made their way across the floor and then his father's bespectacled face appeared. "Robert? You're supposed to be in bed."

Robert pulled his shoulders in defensively. "I couldn't sleep," he murmured, blue eyes downcast. "Can't I take Pippa with me?"

"Your mother and I, and Karl, we are doing what we can. It's best if she stays with your sister. Now come, I'll tuck you back in bed."

Robert sighed and cast his gaze one last time toward the living room. "Bye bye."

[Lani Hunter]

Everything’s Okay

“What’s going to happen? And will I be alive tomorrow?” Caroline asked her hand reaching out. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Lani took her hand and bent so that she could see his face. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Lani,” Caroline smiled her eyes tearing, “You came.”

“Of course I came,” he said. “You’re going to be okay. That’s what’s going to happen,” Lani sang the old lullaby he’d sing when they were both little and she was sick. “Everything’s okay. I’ll be right here by your side. I won’t let you slip away. Plan for tomorrow. ‘Cause I swear to you. You’re going to be okay.”

He brushed her cheek gently and bent to give her a kiss. He sang softly, “Everything’s okay. I’ll be right here. You’re going to be okay.” He gave her hand one that squeeze and his heart yearned to follow but they passed through the doors to the operation room and he was forbidden inside.

Beyond he heard Carolines little voice, “I’m going to be okay. That’s what’s going to happen. Everything’s okay.”

Standing at the doors looking after her Lani felt more helpless than ever. He felt as helpless as he had been when he’d been twelve and someone had told him that his little sister was going to die. Not Caroline. She’d pulled through. He’d made sure of that. He’d make the same sacrifices over again and he’d go through the pain again if he could get that man to give his money and pay for her surgery.

Now they were back. A tumor had returned and Caroline’s fever had gotten worse. The renegade couldn’t stay away. It was a dangerous move but it was his little sister, she needed him. He’d been on the run so long, he felt exposed here in this hospital. Surely someone had already called the police, but he didn’t care. Maybe it was time he paid for all of the things he stole.

He finally turned to his parents, they looked different. Older. There was gray in his mother’s dark hair and his father was all gray. He hadn’t seen them in years. Not since he’d finally been caught. How he escaped was still a miracle to him in the first place, but he was so tired of running. He fell into their embrace and his heart swam in their love.

His mother pulled back dabbing her eyes with the hem of her sleeve and his father held him at arm’s length. “Son, I’m proud of you,” he said with a smile. Lani’s heart lurched, it was the first time his father had said that. He embraced the man again.

“Why don’t you all get some rest,” Lani said after recovering his voice. He knew his mother wanted to ask of his travels and he knew his father wanted to know why his eyes were dark and why he looked half starved. But he didn’t want to talk about that. They didn’t need to know what his life was like when he’d run. It was not something he wanted to recount. It had been so many years. He missed them.

He turned his face back to the closed doors. “She’s going to be fine,” his mother said giving him another hug before slipping into a chair nearby.

Lani couldn’t sit, he paced here and there. To the window, to the doors and back to the window. He was too agitated about what might happen. He stood at the window for a time. How many people would see him on the news later and breathe in relief that he was alive? How many people would see him and not ever recall seeing his face? He closed his eyes, so many people he’d met and never spoken to again when he’d run.

When circumstances in his life turned south and he’d made the decision to run, he’d never spared a thought for all of the people he’d miss so dearly. He never thought about how he’d never be able to see them again, speak to them again. It was all too dangerous. This was how things had to be.

Emergency contacts had been retained and when he’d gotten a call from an old ally from his shady days it was a message from Caroline. It had come to him by the hand of a fellow thief and Lani couldn’t stay away.

He slipped back to his parents. His mother reached out for him and he took the seat next to her and let her cling to him as he clung to her now.

Lani’d been expecting the police so he was not surprised when someone familiar called his name. Captain Matthews stood a fair distance away. He also looked older than he had been when Lani had given him the slip.

“This is it, Lani, no more running,” Matthews said.

Lani pushed away from his mother despite her wordless sob of protest as she struggled to keep hold of him. Lani kissed her cheek and rose to his feet turning to face Matthews. “I’m tired.”

“I know, son,” Matthews said and motioned an officer forward.

“Wait!” Lani exclaimed taking a step back and raising his hands. This caused several officers to twitch for their guns.

Matthews, bless him, despite their past he still rose a hand to stall his officers. He nodded at Lani to continue.

“My sister’s ill, she’s in surgery. I… I just wanna make sure she’s okay,” Lani found his eyes watering. What if she didn’t come out alive and he didn’t know? When Matthews appeared unmoved Lani lowered his hands. “Please. I’ll come quietly after. It shouldn’t be too much longer. I just want to see her.”

Matthews paused and glanced at Lani’s parents as if he’d come to know them too. “Alright, I’m going to have to cuff you, but we’ll wait to go.”

Lani didn’t thank Matthews. He didn’t have to. He let the officers approach and gave no fuss. He stood at the door watching and waiting flanked by officers on both sides. He wondered how he got here. Did Adrianna still remember him? Did Shapiro? Shapiro was Caroline’s age, and Adrianna… had she finished school? Was she the best wedding planner he’d always thought she’d be?

Finally a doctor walked toward the door. Lani perked up. His parents rose and as close as she could get to him his mother reached out and rubbed his arm.

The doctor looked sidelong at the officers and spoke to Lani’s parents. “We were able to get it out. She’ll still need to do a bit of chemo, but I’m sure she’ll pull through.” He smiled nodded at the officers and slipped away.

Lani lowered his head and his fingers linked together as he turned to follow Matthews away. Matthews put a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to speak to her?” When Lani blinked in shock Matthews continued, “I’ve been on the force for a long time and I’ve never seen someone on the run for five years give it all up for someone else.”

Lani was speechless and if his arms were free he’d liked to have hugged Matthews.

When someone came and said Caroline had stirred Lani went ahead of his parents. Caroline’s bandaged head turned when the door opened. “Lani,” she said and her smile turned down when she noticed the officers following him. “No… I didn’t want… Lani.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m just going to go away for a little bit.” Lani said the reality of it all slowly settling in. The chances of him ever spending another day outside of captivity were slim. This was it.

“Are you scared?” she whispered.

Lani immediately started shaking his head. He didn’t do well with rules and he didn’t do well with walls and cages. Tears slipped from his eyes giving his worried away and he nodded. He was terrified.

Caroline lifted a hand and Lani went to grab it but his hands were stuck behind his back. He wanted to hold her so badly. His dearest sister. Her hand touched his cheek and he looked into her eyes.

“You’re going to be okay, that’s what’s going to happen. Everything’s okay.” She sang softly her voice cracking. “I’ll be right here by your side. I won’t let you slip away. Plan for tomorrow. ‘Cause I swear to you. You’re going to be okay.” She brushed away a tear and whispered her voice failing, “You’re going to be okay. I love you, Lani.”

“I love you, Caroline,” he said and bent to kiss her cheek.

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised and her hand stayed outstretched as Lani stepped away with the officers.

[Georgina Speer]

I See The Light

That had probably been... the best winter's day ever for two of the 7 billion-ish people on the Earth.

It had been an average morning for the pair in question, except for a few minor details. Jack had been planning something since the moment he woke up, and George had bothered to get changed before 10 am. George had been sat happily sucking on a pink pear drop and scrolling through Tumblr in the most awkward but strangely comfortable position when Jack had messaged her. He told her he had a wish she needed to fulfill, which she had to oblige to do. (Obviously, she kind of gave her word, and she did... like him... possibly) She rolled off of her bed and grabbed a random bag, filling it with her phone, a packet of gum and a replacement hat (you never know when they're necessary). She unhooked her jacket, press play on her MP3 player and left her dorm.

Jack waited impatiently by a lamppost at the park, tapping his phone against his hand, waiting for a reply. It was almost midday, he was hardly ever up that early if it wasn't a school day, it was just too much EFFORT, but... this would be worth it. He had finally almost possibly come to terms with the situation with Layla. She seemed happy with that slimy toad of a fiancee that she had, so if she was... he was too. And since this realization, he had began looking at George in a different way. Before she was the quirky genie fucking hat lady girl who was proper fun to be around, and now... holy shit it was like she had flicked a switch and she was just... whoa.

He heard some snow crunch and looked up at the source of the noise: George in the flesh. He instinctively straightened up slightly and cleared his throat. George quirked an eyebrow at his reaction to her appearance and chuckled slightly, and tilted her hat towards him, "Top o' the mornin' to ya, Irish."

He bowed back at her, "Morning, Miss. Glorious Hat Lady." They both stood up straighter and spent a moment, just looking into each other's eyes, childlike joyfulness glowing brightly from both of their faces. Jack cleared his throat and offered an arm to George, "Shall we?" George shook her head at his silliness and hooked her arm around his,

"We shall."

They walked through the park, down the streets and past the shops, pointing out random little things along the way, like the number of pigeons in a tree, "Twelve!", before Jack ran into the tree, making all the birds fly away. They occasionally acted like tourists to get a laugh, with George speaking pretty fluent French and Jack just nodding as if she was agreeing with everything she said. They continued to ventured through the streets like this, until a question arose from George, "What am I doing here then, Irish?"

He turned his head and took her in for a second, putting his hands in his pockets, "You tell me!"

She crossed her arms and tilted her head, "You were the one who said you had a wish for me, so spit it out!"

Jack looked around quickly before spotting a clock, which struck as he made eye contact with it, "Is that the time? We should really have lunch!" He rubbed his tummy and nodded, "Gotta keep this food baby alive."

---

The rest of the day progressed like this; the pair never left each other's sight. They went window shopping in multiple stores, and got kicked out of half of them for some... unknown reasons... Eventually, it became nighttime. Snow drifted down gently from the heavens, making the smallest shadows in the snow against the light of the lamp-post the pair had reached again. They were laughing about one of the shopkeepers, George more-so than Jack. She spoke through her laughter, "And he, and he threw bread at us! And then there was that little kid, and she... Jack?" Her laughter died down and her eyes fell on her companion, who was quietly chuckling and smiling at her. "Are you alright?"

Jack hadn't really been listening to her. He had just been taking in how beautiful she looked, even in the unfortunate light of the lamp-post, and how adorable she was when she laughed. He couldn't help but smile at how warm it made him feel inside. He was always comfortable around her, loved her company... she was amazing.

And in that moment, Jack McCarthy did something that would change everything between them.

He leaned forward, put a hand on the back of George's head and kissed her. She tensed and her eyes widened with shock, but once she had gotten a grasp on the situation, she smiled and relaxed into it. Her first kiss, and it was even more magical than she had imagined. They pulled away and Jack looked straight into George's chocolate eyes, and she looked back into his. The moment hovered until George began laughing stupidly and Jack joined in, "Why are we laughing?"

Her chuckles lowered a little as she spoke, "It took you long enough!" He showed a confused expression,

"What do you mean?"

She half smirked, "I've had a crush on you for ages."

He nodded, "All that time. Never even knowing... fucking hell I'm blind."

She let out a burst of laughter, before calming down again, "All those days of chasing a daydream, they all seem so worth it now." She put her head into Jack's chest, and he covered it with his hand, "I'm where I'm meant to be."

[Joe Honnick]

The Great Escape

Joe flipped methodically through the Sunday paper looking for an interesting story to read. The lamps in the family room were casting a dim light and the television mumbled in background noise. Joe glanced at Jasmine who sat curled under a blanket laboring over a Sudoku game. He flipped another page and glanced over the headlines. A smile crossed his lips, he had never been so happy. Here with his wife, everything felt so right. And his eldest was out with her long term boyfriend. A young man that Joe had yet to meet, he was looking forward to it, Lesedi absolutely mooned after him. Joe had better work on being scary.

The door slammed open for a brief moment allowing the cold blizzard to blast into their home. Joe looked up and was startled to see Lesedi standing there. Tears streaked her cheeks making her mascara run unattractively down her face in black smears. She slammed her bag down on the floor and started working on her shoes.

“Honey,” Jasmine asked setting aside her paper and rising, “Honey what happened?”

“It’s over Mom! I blew it!” Lesedi declared in a half wailing sound, “I’m fat and I’m ugly! The only man who will ever love me is gone!” She slapped her mother’s hands away and trudged up the stairs. Joe rose to follow his wife and daughter up the stairs. By the time he leveled the landing his wife was already trying to door on the bathroom.

“She locked herself in,” Jasmine said in a huff worry written like a story across her face.

Joe knocked on the door. “Lesedi, sweetheart, open door.”

“I am worthless!” Lesedi screamed.

Joe exchanged a worried expression with Jasmine. “Sweetheart, you mom and I love you. You’re worth the world to us. Talk to us.”

“He was everything! I am too ugly for him to want me! I’m fat and I’m a beast unfit to be seen, the only man who loved me is gone. No one will ever put up with my filth! I’m worthless!”

Joe shook his head at Jasmine as they exchanged confused glances. It was no secret that Lesedi was beautiful, she had been homecoming and Prom queen of the Pilot Ridge High School. Everyone loved her, in college she excelled and Joe had never been more proud. Lesedi was beautiful, she was confident, and now she was calling herself worthless?

“Lesedi, you’re beautiful, come on open up, we can talk about this,” Jasmine said into the door.

“GO AWAY!” Lesedi shrieked, “I’m not fit to live anymore! My only reason for living is gone!”

Joe tried to doorknob again and pounded the door. “Lesedi, open this door!” He pressed his ear to the door and heard the cabinets opening and closing. “Stand back,” he told Jasmine and started throwing his weight against the door.

When it finally gave Joe fell into the room. Pills spilled over the floor and Lesedi was wailing at an empty bottle in her hands. Jasmine could not see this. He turned to his wife using his balk to block her sight. “Jasmine, call the paramedics. Possible overdose.”

Jasmine’s hands flew to her mouth, “Oh God!”

“Go!”

Jasmined launched herself down the stairs and Joe turned to his eldest daughter. He pulled the pill bottle from her hand and sat down on the edge of the tub pulling Lesedi down with him. He pulled her into his arms and let her sob into his shoulder.

“Why? Why?” Lesedi kept whimpering. “I don’t want to live without him.”

Joe’s heart broke, “Lesedi, Lesedi look at me.” He took her face in his hands and did his best to wipe her face clean with his fingers, “I know it hurts, and you feel too much and you don’t know how long you’re gonna last.”

“I’m not fit for anyone, no one will ever love me.”

“I love you. You’ve had a great hurt, but I’m not gonna let you make the great escape,” Joe told her looking into his daughter’s eyes, “I’m never gonna watch you checking out of this place. And you know why?”

Lesedi shook and her wordless sob was answer enough.

Joe pulled his daughter into a hug wishing he could protect her from all of the terrors of this world. “’Cause I’m not gonna lose you. The passion and the pain are gonna keep you alive someday.”

Lesedi’s wailing increased and Joe shushed her soothingly wishing he could take all of her pain on his plate. How had his confident strong beautiful daughter even come to suicide. “He was my reason to live,” Lesedi sobbed quietly, “I’m worthless without him. I might as well die.”

“Who told you that?” Joe demanded.

“He did. It’s true!”

“Shh, shh, no, no he is a liar, he is a damn liar. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are my world,” Joe said, “You have no idea what it would do to me and you mom if we lost you.”

Lesedi didn’t answer and the tears seemed to flow like rivers. Joe held onto his daughter hoping to God it wasn’t too late. Siren sang in the distance and soon uniformed women and men filled the room. Joe felt numb and in shock as they helped Lesedi into an ambulance.

“Go with Lesedi,” he told Jasmine, “I’ll follow behind, I need to call Rachel.”

Joe took a few deep breaths before he followed the ambulance and told his younger daughter what had happened. Rachel, who was volunteering at the hospital stopped what she was doing and called attention to doctors as they arrived.

Meeting up with Rachel, Joe gave her a strong hug, terrified that if he lost Lesedi he might also lose Rachel. His arm around Rachel he found Jasmine standing worriedly at the window to Lesedi’s room. Joe reached for Jasmine, needing her strength to help him through. As soon as their fingers link he felt as though he could take on the world, and yet he felt so helpless watching then work on Lesedi.

How could this happen? How could something like this happen to his daughter?

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

My Boots
Where Rowcy briefly talk about girls.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

Lucy stared with a scrutinising gaze. The kind that made Rowan feel like his toes were freezing over. He knew she never meant a look like that. Or… At least she rarely meant it. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He repeated firmly, unwrapping an arm from around her pillow to extend his hand out, “Do you need my pinkie for that, Lucky?”

He even wiggled it for good measure.

Lucy watched the boy lying on her bed briefly when he made himself comfortable again, tucking the pillow under his head. He looked eager, like he was about to hear a secret. Most things about Lucy were a secret. But this was different. The naturally closed off pair were trying to share. At least they were trying to talk about feelings together. Who better than someone in the same boat as her?

“Be a sound board.” She instructed.

“Consider me padded.” He teased. But she glared again, so Rowan faked a key between his fingers and locked his proverbial trap.

Curling her fingers together, Lucy pressed her hands to her lap and looked at him for a second longer before glancing away. Ugh, even talking about this was weird. And it was nothing.

Really. Nothing.

“Half the time, when I see her, I actually want to lean across and knock some sense into her.” She stopped herself, looking at him with frustration. He responded with a small nod. He understood. “I mean, she does and says some really stupid things. It takes everything not to tear her to pieces. What does that mean?”

Rowan shrugged, a half nod of agreement. He knew what his friend was like. Temperamental. But he wouldn’t say that to her. “Nothing.” He denoted, “Everyone annoys you.”

With a small pause, she ended up agreeing with a shrug.

“Is it always bad?” Rowan asked. Surely she wouldn’t spend time with someone who just made her rage.

Frustration seemingly melted away from her features. Pursing her lips slightly, she twisted them to the side in the next moment. She stared across the way at him, the corner of her mouth tugging to a knowing smile. He was grinning back at her. Raising her shoulders in a shrug, she looked away almost awkwardly.

Embarrassed. Like the words were hard to say. “There are weird moments. Like, really simple times where I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I’m thinking like an idiot.” She explained, looking back at him again for confirmation.

He just looked confused. Lucy breathed a heavy sigh, searching her mind for a decent explanation.

“Something in the way she comes gliding makes me need to fix up my hair…” She paused, glancing at the sweep of her fringe. Instinctively, her fingers traced it, keeping it in line.

He’d pressed his lips into a hard line, trying his very best not to laugh. She cringed at him. “I hate you.” She shot back.

“But Lucky, baby, your hair is always good.” He chided, reaching forward and stringing a few idle locks around his fingers.

“I’ll strangle you, DeWitt.”

“Only if it’s with your hair.” He grinned. But he didn’t laugh. She made the move to stand up anyway, and Rowan quickly curled his fingers around her forearm, pulling her back onto the bed. He was finally laughing. She knew he would. Lucy hooked her pillow out from underneath his head and quickly pressed it against his face for a moment or so. A fake smother between friends until he’d- “Okay! Seriously, I’ll stop!” Rowan conceded finally.

He pushed her off with a laugh. Straightening himself out, Rowan seemed to let his laughter die before he dropped his tone a touch. Serious never suited him, though it did look good either way. “It’s a love hate romance. I get it. Trust me.”

“Yeah,” She breathed quietly, “I know you do.” It wasn’t like his situation with Alex was all sunshine and rainbows.

“But Lucky…” He started tentatively. “You never told me…”

“Oh,” Lucy sat up again, her legs crossed as she stared at the boy resting his head against the wall behind her bed. “Uh-”

“Which one is she?”

[Trixie *]

Demons

She was sick of being saved. Why did he always have to intervene? She was doing fine on her own, she could handle it, all of the bad shit in the world, she was learning about it. She wasn't the same naive, sweet girl that he met over a year ago. She had hardened in the time that they had been together and when they fell apart. Her mother was gone, her father was nothing to her and she had no one that gave a fuck about her. Except him. But she was sick of being protected! She didn't need his protection.

"How could you be so stupid, Adrianna?" He said finally, his hand hanging out the window as the other rested on the steering wheel. "I mean it's like you have no idea how dangerous these people are!" Lani pinched the bridge of his nose and gripped the steering wheel tighter. His expression was filled with agony and frustration, he was at a loss. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what else to say. All of this was just a big mess of things and she simply didn't understand the dangers of his world. He was trying to save her from himself.

Adrian glared out the window at the passing road, on the way back to Vermont. "I'm not stupid. But when your dreams all fail and the ones we hail are the worst of all..." She trailed off in frustration. How could he act like she was some fragile thing? She wasn't the same! She wasn't Caroline. He didn't have to keep worrying about her.

Lani gritted his teeth, "You don't get it, Adrianna. I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you! But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide. It doesn't matter what we breed we still are made of greed." He didn't want to keep subjecting her to this kind of pain, to this misery he was part of. She could do better than him, she could find someone that could give her everything she was looking for in a man. He wasn't it.

"For Christ's sake, Lani! I'm not the same person anymore. When you feel my heat, look into my eyes. That's where my demons hide. We're one in the same, just don't get too close it's dark inside," She finally faced him and gripped his free hand. "So they dug your grave and the masquerade will come calling out at the mess you've made."

"I don't wanna let you down, but I am hellbound. Though this is all for you, don't wanna hide the truth," He said quietly glancing over at her.

Adrian frowned, "They say it's what you make. I say it's up to fate."

"It's woven in my soul, I need to let you go..."

"Your eyes they shine so bright, I wanna save that light, Lani. Please, stop running away from me. I don't want you to push me away anymore," Tears filled her eyes and she gripped his hand tighter.

Lani frowned deeper and squeezed her hand back, "I can't escape this now unless you show me how."