I gulped nervously, and my mind began running a million miles a minute with every possible outcome of this conversation—a conversation that I completely forgot was inevitable.

“You don’t have to worry, Vic,” Mrs. Perry said. I looked up at her with wide eyes; this was the first time I truly made eye contact with her since she called me over to talk privately. I knew what it was about. I had completely forgotten that she didn’t know about me and Bree as an item, and that she would definitely have questions.

“You really like her, don’t you?” she asked, and my face heated. I never had a mother I could talk about girls with, so I didn’t really know what to say.

“Er, yeah,” I mumbled.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all,” she said. “As long as you’re happy.”

I smiled weakly. “She makes me happy,” I said.

“I see it goes both ways, too,” she noted, and I nodded, smiling softly again.

“But I also want to make sure that you were getting the proper treatment regarding your condition and if your relationship with her interfered during your time at the hospital,” she said—typical questions a concerned mother would ask.

“I am, and it didn’t. It wasn’t until my last week there until I realized, y’know,” I half-explained.

“I see,” she nodded approvingly. “Well, I personally don’t see anything wrong with your relationship with her. She’s not your therapist anymore, and she’s not that much older than you. But none of that matters because the heart wants what the heart wants,” she said with a smile. I nodded—she was right, but I already knew all of that anyway. I was glad she approved, though. “You care about her a lot, anybody could see that.”

“I do,” I agreed. “Thanks, Mrs. Perry,” I smiled slightly.

“You’re welcome, Vic. I hope I didn’t scare you when I asked to speak to you. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you didn’t have to hide your relationship from me anymore,” she winked, and I blushed. I had been so caught up in my happiness with Bree prior to Logan’s death that I completely forgot that Mrs. Perry would suspect something. Mrs. Perry wasn’t around much, so she hardly noticed that I wasn’t home some weekends, but still.

Mrs. Perry’s face turned serious, though. “I’m so sorry about what happened,” she frowned. I nodded, very weakly lifting the corners of my mouth up, attempting to show thankfulness in my small smile.

“She is always welcome here, as well,” she said warmly.

“Thanks, Mrs. Perry,” I said, giving her a hug. Mrs. Perry had skated over the “me and Bree” topic the past three days Bree has been here, given the severity of the situation. I was just thankful that Mrs. Perry didn’t ask questions before, just letting Bree and I mourn together.

And, now, Bree and I were about to be on our way back to Los Angeles for Logan’s funeral. It was a morning service, and it was going to be a short occasion, and we would be back in San Diego by tonight.

“Are you sure you don’t want Tony or Alyssa to drive you?” Mrs. Perry asked. I laughed a little at the way she volunteered her own children, but I shook my head.

“Thanks anyway,” I said.

“Okay, send our condolences,” she said, and I nodded. I went to turn away, but she grabbed my arm. “And, Vic,” she started. “You look very handsome,” she said affectionately. I smiled softly. I had left my hair curly—I’ve been keeping it natural, lately—and I was wearing the same outfit that I had worn to my brother’s funeral.

“Thank you, Mrs. Perry. Thanks for all of your help, too. I know none of this was related to you in any way, but it means a lot that—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Vic. I would never abandon any son of mine if his significant other was dealing with something as serious as this, and since you are basically a son to me, it goes the same way,” she said.

My throat tightened a little at her comment. Even though she wasn’t around a lot, she was like the mom I never had. She just worked a lot, but it was because she needed to provide for her family as the only parent. I never did ask Tony where his dad was…

“You have a safe trip now, okay?”

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Mrs. Perry patted my arm and I took that as me being dismissed. I turned around and waited in the kitchen for Bree. Bree was small, so she was able to fit in a black dress and shoes that belonged to Alyssa.

“Thank you for your help, Mrs. Perry. Even though you hardly know me, everything you’ve done to help has been amazing. I can’t thank you enough,” Bree came into view, and immediately gave Mrs. Perry a hug.

“You don’t have to thank me, dear,” she said nicely. “Take care of yourself. I’m sorry for your loss,” Mrs. Perry said gently, her face contorting in a way that showed how truly sorry she was—probably because she almost had to experience this kind of pain with her own son.

“Thank you,” Bree whispered, her mouth twitching and her eyes watering slightly. I grabbed her hand reassuringly, and she smiled softly in response.

“Bye, Mrs. Perry,” I said as we turned to leave. She smiled and waved carefully, looking as happy as a person could look on the morning of a funeral.

“Are you okay to drive?” Bree asked as we walked out to the car.

“Of course,” I said, squeezing her hand a little.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

I walked around the car and opened the door for her. Before she went in, I gently grabbed her wrist and held her back, pulling her close.

“You look beautiful, Bree,” I whispered warmly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you,” she said quietly with a gentle smile. She leaned forward and kissed my lips softly, making my heart swell. I could almost taste the sadness that I knew she was feeling.

“Come on, let’s go,” I said sweetly, helping her inside of the car. I closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, sinking into the old leather. We had already said our goodbyes to Alyssa and Tony prior to going down stairs to their mother. It was seven-thirty in the morning, and they were both still sleeping. I didn’t blame them.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” she asked, and I looked at her.

“I’m okay,” I promised. I hadn’t missed another dose of my medication, and I already felt in control of my emotions again, despite how recent my last “episode” was. I barely even considered it an episode, though, because even in the midst of it I felt like I could gain control again—and I did.

The car ride to Los Angeles was silent. It was so quiet, even, that I could hear the water dripping out of Bree’s crystal eyes like they were raindrops.

The drive was agonizing because it was so quiet. I wished that we could fill the silence with something—anything—but I knew that, deep down, nothing could fill the void that emptied the air.

I didn’t have to imagine what Bree was feeling right now because I have felt that way before. The pain was indescribable, and it made me sick to think that the girl I loved had to experience it.

Bree stared out the window the entire time. I didn’t have to ask or wonder what she was thinking about; it was obvious. She was thinking about Logan, wondering what he was doing outthere. I was thinking the same thing. I sighed lightly, hoping that my brother would take care of Logan, wherever they were.

Or, possibly, she wasn’t thinking about Logan’s whereabouts at all. I snuck a peak at her hands, seeing that they were holding each other tightly, as if she was angry. Was she mad at Logan, now? Had the initial sadness dissolved, being replaced with unadulterated anger?

I wouldn’t know, because Bree didn’t talk about her feelings.

I didn’t want to press her, but I also knew that she needed to talk. It was too soon, maybe, but eventually I had to get her to open up a little. That was what she did for me in the mental institution, and now I was going to try and get her to do the same. Oh, how the roles have reversed.

“This will go by fast,” she said quietly.

“How are you holding up today, Bree?” I asked carefully. We had arrived in Los Angeles, and I parked the car in front of the funeral home. She had to be there early to say private goodbyes to Logan and make final touches.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m okay,” she repeated, nodding to herself.

“Are you ready to go inside?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah, let’s go,” she said, opening the car.

The air was surprisingly brisk when we stepped outside, and the inside of the funeral home was icy cold. I didn’t want to think about why. I shivered.

I held Bree’s hand tenderly. “Thank you,” she whispered, although I wasn’t sure what for.

“Miss Lewis?” a large man in a suit approached us.

“That’s me,” Bree said softly.

“Hello,” the man said respectively. His voice was low and quiet, just like the rest of the building. The music lingering in the back was low, and the few workers walking around spoke in a hushed tone, as if they were afraid to wake up the corpses.

I didn’t listen to what the man was saying, numbly following him as he walked towards a set of doors. I just held Bree’s hand, focusing on her and her only.

“Here we are,” the man breathed, motioning towards the door. “The casket is closed, but we can open it if you wish,” he said.

“Open it, please,” Bree nodded. I gulped as we walked through the threshold. The room was beautifully set up—the home did a nice job with all of the pictures and personal touches. I didn’t bother looking at anything, though, the casket catching my eye. Knowing that Logan’s mangled body laid there made my heart thump. Even though he was clean, now, I still couldn’t get the image of his hanging body out of my damn head.

The casket creaked when the man opened it. I heard Bree inhale and exhale calmly.

Logan’s hair was neat and combed back. I had never seen it like that before—it had always been a tousled mess when I saw him. His eyes were closed, and the thought that they would never open again made my stomach lurch. His facial expression was mostly placid, but the effects of death made his skin sag in the smallest amounts. It was obvious that work had been done to preserve his face, keeping the skin as tight on his skull as possible, but I still noticed the difference. His hands were folded over his middle, unmoving. His skin was made up to look natural, but I knew it was nothing but grey. A colorless, bloodless, grey. I grimaced at the sight.

I was suddenly glad that I didn’t have to see my brother’s dead body. Seeing him physically but him not being there mentally would have driven me insane even sooner.

But I looked at Bree, seeing that her facial features were calm. I even saw the corners of her mouth twitch upward—I guess people handled death differently. I guess everyone had their own way of coping and understanding.

“He’s really dead,” she sighed. “He’s not waking up ever again, is he?” she turned to me. I shook my head slowly and frowned.

“No, love, he’s not,” I murmured. She nodded, understanding.

“It’s okay,” she finally said after staring at his body for a few moments. I waited to see any further reaction from her. “It’s okay,” she repeated. She reached out and lightly touched his face.

“He’s peaceful,” she smiled, a glassy tear slipping down her cheeks. “He’s calm,” she said. A few more tears fell, but her smile remained.

“I wish I didn’t have to see it, but I knew, deep down, that this was bound to happen,” Bree said.

“Bree,” I said lowly, placing a hand on her elbow.

She shook her head. “I hate that he’s dead before me, but I always knew that things would end like this. It sucks that he isn’t around everyday like normal, but I know he is happy. He obviously wanted this,” she said. “He doesn’t have to worry, anymore,” she smiled softly, tracing her fingers along the edge of the casket, similar to the motion I made at my brother’s funeral. I was surprised at her composure, contrasting to the way I cried over Mike’s closed casket.

“I’m sorry I failed you, Lo,” she said softly. “I wish I was able to show you better how much you meant to me, how much it hurts that you left me on purpose,” she added. “But I don’t blame you. I don’t blame me, either. I know you loved me,” she said. “I wish things were different, but I don’t wish for a different brother. You were perfect the way you were,” she cried. “I wish you saw that,” she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a small sob. I placed a hand on her back, drawing circles to indicate that she wasn’t alone. She leaned into me for support, burying her face into my shoulder as a few sobs racked her body. I wrapped an arm around her and held her carefully, closing my eyes.

I hated to hear her cry.

“Miss, people are arriving. Would you like more time alone?” he asked. Bree shook her head.

“No, thank you,” she sniffled a little. “Vic,” she turned to me and looked me in the eyes, pointing at her face. I smiled a little and wiped her eyes, the small smudges of black under her eyes transferring to my thumb. “Thanks,” she whispered. She took a deep breath. “I think we can keep it open. Seeing him like this makes me realize that it is real,” she said. “This… this is closure,” she nodded. “Yes, closure.”

I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her in, kissing the side of her head. She smiled.

Several people showed up. The funeral was small and mostly private, but people who knew Logan well from work and from their neighborhood came to pay their respects. Bree couldn’t stop the tears that fell, but that was expected. Sure, she now accepted his death, but she was still sad. A part of me was still fearful that it was all an exterior mask, that on the inside she was tearing herself up.

“This is so cute,” I smiled, gesturing towards a picture of Bree and Logan when they were little.

“This is my favorite picture of us,” she smiled happily, picking it up.

“You were so cute!” I exclaimed. “What happened?” I mused sarcastically. She elbowed me in the rib cage.

“He was seven, and I was four,” she smiled nostalgically.

“Wait, no,” I laughed. “I have a new favorite,” I grinned, picking up a neighboring photograph. It was of a little boy with bubbles around his face, holding a baby in the bathtub. There were hands reaching out in the picture, supporting the baby, but the boy had the proudest smile on his face, like he was holding a prized possession.

“Ah!” she giggled. “Logan’s holding me,” she laughed. “Damn, this is so cute,” she giggled again. I smiled; I haven’t heart that giggle in a while, it seems like. The smile on her face remained as she gingerly set the pictures back down. She sighed, the prior spark in her eyes from seeing the pictures slowly fading.

People came and went, and more tears were shed. Bree was so strong, though, and I admired that. Bree got caught up in a conversation with her neighbor, so I found that as a good chance to excuse myself.

“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?” I said to her.

“Okay,” she smiled softly. I smiled back before turning around. I walked into the men’s bathroom, and, almost immediately, I clasped my hands on to the counter, ducked my head, and let out heavy sobs. I needed to let this out.

I only knew Logan for a few weeks, but I was beyond stressed over his death. I couldn’t let my emotions for it show in front of Bree, though. I needed to cry over him a little—his death was such a shock, because I kept forgetting that he even had problems. He was such a nice guy, and I knew how much he loved his sister. I couldn’t believe that he was gone, and I knew him for a short time. Bree has known him her entire life—I couldn’t fathom how she was feeling.

Well, maybe I could, an image of Mikey flashing across my mind.

“Damn it,” I cursed, sighing as I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve. I let out a shaky breath and recomposed myself.

Feeling better after finally being able to cry a little, I made sure I looked okay and quickly returned to Bree’s side. I didn’t want to worry her, but her face studied mine for a second. I was sure my eyes were similar to hers, now—swollen, sad.

The funeral died down eventually. The burial went by in a flash. Bree cried the hardest during it, and she also held my hand the tightest. As her brother’s casket sunk into the Earth, I could feel Bree’s heart sink, as well. Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to keep it together in public.

Before I even knew it, we were at her Los Angeles home. The morning and afternoon had been draining, and, after a quick, solemn lunch, it was nearing nighttime.

“Vic,” she spoke for the first time in an hour or so.

“Yes, love?”

“I, uh, I don’t know… um, can we stay here tonight?” she asked.

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I do,” she nodded.

“Will you tell me why?” I asked gently.

“Because, I want to say bye one last time. And then I’ll be moving to San Diego,” she said with purpose. “We grew up here, together. I can’t just leave it so suddenly,” she added.

“If that’s what you want,” I said.

“It is,” she assured.

“Then, I don’t see why not,” I said. “As long as you will be okay,” I said, petting her hair.

“I’ll be okay,” she nodded. “Just don’t leave me,” she added.

“Never,” I whispered, giving her a kiss.

She smiled softly for the millionth time today, but, like all of the other times, the smile didn’t spread to her eyes. They remained empty and even a little dark.

“I didn’t expect to want to stay, are you sure this is okay?” Bree asked quietly. Quietly. That was all she was, anymore: quiet.

“Whatever you’d like,” I said, rubbing her back. A worried look crossed her face.

“Aren’t your jeans uncomfortable?” she asked, sitting down in her bed.

“Oh,” I said. I had forgotten that I was in my black jeans, still, and I didn’t have clothes here. I sat down next to her. “It’s fine,” I said.

“No, you’ll be uncomfortable,” she frowned.

“I could always sleep in my boxers, Bree. It’s not that big of a deal,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Unless that bothers you,” I added respectfully.

“Oh, right. I forgot that boys do that,” she said, a light blush creeping upon her cheeks. I laughed carefully. “Fine with me,” she yawned, stretching out her limbs. Her arms extended outward, so I took that as my opportunity to throw her into a tight hug. I kissed her collarbone tenderly.

She smiled. “I’m going to go change,” she said, standing up. I nodded okay, and then she scooped up some pajamas and disappeared into her bathroom. I stood up and slid my pants off, putting them neatly in a corner. I unbuttoned my shirt, leaving the white undershirt that I had underneath. In just my t-shirt and boxers, I crawled into her bed. She appeared nearly seconds later, snuggling up next to me.

“Thanks for today,” she said.

“It turned out to be really nice, didn’t it?”

“It did,” she nodded. She pulled away and planted her lips on mine firmly. She hadn’t kissed me like that in nearly a week, so it caught me off guard. Maybe I had been right in my assumption that she would feel better once Logan was officially at peace.

However, when I looked into her eyes, I didn’t really see anything. I could tell that she felt something for me—love—but her eyes were otherwise empty. They were shallow and sad, desperate, and hungry to be filled.

As I thought, I felt her lips move to my neck softly. I shivered at her touch, forgetting my previous concerns. But when she stopped and tugged on my shirt, I remembered again.

“You should take this off,” she murmured, kissing my jaw and then the corner of my mouth.

“Bree…”

“Come on,” she whined slightly, trailing more kissed down my jaw and neck. I felt her hands travel around my back, slipping under my shirt, and, while it felt good—really good—I knew now was not the time, nor the place.

“Bree…” I said again. “No,” I said softly, reaching around to remove her hands.

“Why not?” she frowned.

“Because…” I said. I didn’t know how to explain without hurting her. It was her house, where Logan died. I still didn’t feel right being here. It almost felt haunted. Also, I couldn’t take advantage of Bree’s vulnerable state: she was clearly upset still, and I knew she just needed something to fill her void.

“You’re hurt, Bree. I want to help you, but this won’t help. This isn’t right,” I tried to explain. She frowned, but I noticed something spark in her eyes. An actual emotion.

“But I want you,” she said, knitting her eyebrows. “Please,” she begged, tugging on my shirt again.

“No, Bree, not tonight,” I said as gently as possible.

“Yes,” she said, almost angrily. She pressed her lips against mine again, but it was a hard, angry kiss. I could taste her frustration and sadness.

“Bree, stop this,” my words were muffled by her mouth.

“Don’t do this,” she whined again.

“Bree, now isn’t the right time. I want you, but not like this. And this isn’t the right place, either. It’s not a good idea,” I said.

“I think you’re wrong,” she pouted angrily.

“Bree, you’ll regret it later, I promise you that,” I frowned.

“Please!” she yelled, slapping her hands against my chest.

Her anger and passion didn’t last long, though, because the moment her hands met my chest, her entire demeanor collapsed. She clenched my t-shirt in her fists and pulled herself closer. Sobs shook her body.

“Shh, shh,” I cooed, rocking her a little. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I murmured, trying to convince myself of this, too.

“No,” she moaned, dragging out the word.

“Shh, Bree, please calm down, it’s okay,” I said, kissing her hair.

“I… I can’t…”

“Shh, shh,” I continued to hold her, never intending to let go. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

She sniffled, her sobs fading away. My heart crunched every time she cried—seeing her like this was so painful.

I held her closely and securely, and she snaked her arms around me. “Just hold me, please,” she cried softly.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured, letting her get comfortable against me. She mumbled something incoherent, her exhaustion setting in again. She let out a shaky breath.

I closed my eyes and hummed softly in her ear, hoping to sooth her to sleep. It worked, because minutes later her breaths calmed down and her body relaxed. And, with her relaxed, I found that I could relax, too. I settled my head in the space millimeters next to hers, and she breathed quietly on my face. My heart repeatedly broke for her and her mixed up emotions. Bree had a long, sad day, and it was evident now that her previous acceptance was mostly an act—she still had these lingering feelings of abandonment and desperation. I didn’t dwell on what just happened, though, as the day finally began to take its toll. The combination of my own sadness and the cool breath on my face slowly lured me to sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, my mind was fuzzy. I looked over at the clock on her desk, seeing that it was three in the morning. There was a tugging sensation in my chest, and I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering what it was.

“Bree?” I called into the darkness, realizing that she wasn’t in my arms.

The spot where she had been sleeping was cold. Too cold. I jolted up, the realization that she wasn’t here shocking me as if somebody has splashed ice water in my face.

“Bree?” I called out louder. I swung me legs over the side when I received no answer. My heart rate sped up.

She wasn’t in the room at all, and my nerves electrified. “Bree?” I continued to call.

Where could she be?I thought. Logan’s room…

The thought of going in there made me physically nauseated, but I needed to find her. I snuck across the hall and creaked Logan’s door open. The atmosphere was chilly, as if he had died here. “Bree?” I called out into the room softly. But there was no reply.

Once my eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, I saw that she wasn’t in here, either.

“Shit,” I muttered. The tugging sensation in my chest returned, and I suddenly knew where I had to go.

I bit my lip, walking anxiously down the hall and stairs. The steps complained as I walked down them, groaning as I slowly moved.

I held my breath while I walked through the house, and the path to the living room seemed exceedingly longer than usual. I shuddered.

“Bree?”

I heard soft cries, and my heart and stomach completely switched places within me.

“Bree…” I said in exasperation. She was slumped on her knees in the middle of the living room, directly under the spot where a ceiling fan once hung.

Where Logan once hung.

Her face was distant, her eyes were the emptiest I have ever seen. It was like she wasn’t even there.

“Bree? Bree, love?” I spoke quietly, trying to get her attention but not wanting to frighten her. The tugging sensation in my chest returned yet again.

Bree looked like a zombie. An emotionless robot. She didn’t really look like Bree, the bright, fun-loving girl I once knew.

She was just staring down as one spot of the ground, her entire face placid. Her shoulders barely moved when she breathed in.

I followed her gaze, my heart dropping at what I saw. I didn’t see it before—because I was drawn to her empty eyes, focused on trying to fill them with my own—but as I studied her surroundings, my stomach lurched. Laid out neatly in front of her were several bottles of pills. Empty bottles—the pills that once inhabited each container were scattered on the ground in front of her.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bree!” I hissed, racing over to her. I kicked the pills and bottles away and collapsed down in front of her, putting my hands on her shoulders strongly. “Bree, what are you doing?” I asked hastily.

She finally moved her head up, her eyes shifting from the pills to my eyes, but not once showing any distinguishable emotion.

“Bree!” I yelled. Her face didn’t even react. “Bree, for the love of god! Did you take any?” I panicked. I put my hands on both sides of her face, forcing her to really look at me. Her face contorted in an emotion that I didn’t quite understand.

“Bree!” I yelled, my body shaking in utter panic. She opened her mouth, small white capsules falling out, slowly, dripping down her chin and onto her knees.

“No!” I gasped. “Bree, damnit! Did you swallow any?” I asked, my eyes wide-eyed.

“Bree, answer me!” I demanded, shaking her shoulders.

Slowly, she shook her head.

“Fuck, Bree,” I sighed lowly, pulling her in for a sloppy embrace. “You can’t do this to me,” I murmured. “You can’t leave me,” I said. Even though it was selfish—I didn’t care. I couldn’t live in a world where she didn’t exist. I couldn’t believe she wanted to leave…

“I wanted to see him,” she mumbled. The way her words slurred together made me question if she actually swallowed the pills or not.

“You can’t do that, baby,” I cried.

“You don’t understand,” she said.

I pulled away, staring straight into her eyes.

“But, I do understand, Bree,” I knitted my eyebrows.

Her face contorted in realizatioin. “I forgot,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay. You can’t leave me, okay? You can’t do that, okay? Please. Please promise me you’ll stay…”

I can’t make any promises.

The words that I told my own brother regarding hurting myself rung in my ears. The words that devastated and hurt the person that you loved and who loved you back and didn’t want to see you like this because they cared for you so much. The words I was afraid Bree was going to say to me.

I can’t make any promises.

A cold burst of air rushed through me. My eyes zoned in and out and in and out, and my breathing hitched. My kneeling body swayed.

She opened her mouth to say something, but instead of hearing, I saw.

The words slithered out of her mouth, black smoke filtering through her lips. I can’t make any promises.

The smoke slowly made its way over to me, infecting me. I coughed as it skillfully tangled itself into my hair, my eyes, my mouth, my lungs, my bloodstream. Then the smoke strengthened itself, slowly wrapping itself around my neck. It tightened, and I gasped quietly. I can’t make any promises.

Bree wasn’t there anymore: the demon in front of me had completely taken her over. It had no pupils, only the whites of eyes. It’s mouth hung in a natural frown, and then the whites of its eyes turned black, like the night. Like death. It had no hair, no life, no soul. It impossibly breathed out, more black smoke escaping its mouth. It clouded around me, suffocating me, torturing me.

I couldn’t move. I was in the state where I was conscious, but I couldn’t externally react to anything. So when the demon snaked its grimy hands around my throat, forcing me down, I couldn’t fight back. I simply submitted to the demon, my insides trembling but my outsides as stiff as a board.

“She’ll leave you, don’t worry,” it reassured me, although I didn’t feel reassured. “They always do…”

“No,” I tried to say, but nothing came out except short, breathless gasps. I couldn’t breathe, and the demon was getting darker and darker, angrier and angrier.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see it anymore. It hurt too much to stare into its empty eyes. Its eyes were as empty as Bree’s.

“She’ll come with me, they always do,” it whispered into my ear, its lizard-like tongue flicking on my ear. I felt my eyes roll back into my head, and I greeted darkness sadly.

“Oh, my God.”

Notes

Hey guys I'm baaAaaCkkKkk

Okay the wait was not even that long thank the heavens (and my parents). But I think the two days I went without writing were the worst days of my life. i think I'm addicted. Oh Well Oh Well

Apparently my parents were going to get me a new computer for Xmas, so that's why they easily decided to go ahead and get me a new one. It was time, anyway. And all of my shit survived, too, hallelujah.

Anyway, here's a nice, long, jam-packed chapter that escalates quickly for you guys.

Leave comments on what you want to see happen, and rate and subscirbe and stuff hehe:)