#it’s indicative of a MUCH bigger problem (something somewhere is rotting)

[schrodingers-slut]

So actually, the core problem is not JUST the method of education. That is a problem. However realistically, we cannot change the education system in a way that will actually benefit those of us who are deemed ‘not worth it’ BECAUSE the capitalist system will not allow it.

A system’s function is what it does. If the American education system consistently has issues with academic dishonesty, then that’s one of the system’s functions: fostering the environment necessary to promote academic dishonesty and cheating.

If we want it to stop doing that, we do actually have to lead by example and SHOW the younger generations that things are worth doing without cutting corners. Even if it takes a long time.

If we were allowed to do that within the confines of capitalism, we would’ve done it already.

This is why while accommodations for disabled students are technically, legally protected and mandatory, you can and do still have disabled and other marginalized students being pushed out of academic spaces by social pressures.

Example: I was denied accommodations I was legally entitled to (as in my family had the money snd resources to do everything right and get me diagnosed and officially medicated) for. SIX. YEARS.

They dragged their feet and hemmed and hawed about whether I really deserved it. Whether I was faking it. Despite how, if we had the money to take them to court, we would’ve won.

I graduated, by the skin of my teeth, after being hospitalized, switching schools, and finally straight up hiring a world renowned therapist who could get away with screaming at my principal.

I got half assed accommodations for a whole two months. Because they were intending to wait me out.

Why?

Because they ‘didn’t have the budget’

Now maybe they did and maybe they didn’t (except my school district is KNOWN for being pretty much the best public school in the area with higher taxes to back that up)

But the fact remains, that when it finally came down to it, money was the reason no one could be bothered to teach me how to factor polynomials. They couldn’t afford to have someone help with my notes, they couldn’t afford to pay someone overtime to stay late and proctor my exams during my extended time. They couldn’t afford it.

And I wish I was an outlier, but I’m not because the “ADHD kid was never diagnosed and/or told they’d never get scholarships and never even applied for college” is SUCH a common story.

I made it to college out of sheer rage and because I’m privileged enough to have a family with the resources to do so.

I was academically dismissed because when COVID happened and enrollment lowered, less tuition meant less money. So guess what got hit first. The accessibility services. So I was hung out to dry despite originally choosing my university because of their disability services.

I’m currently fighting my way through another semester of community college. My professor is grading us on shit that’s not in our textbook, or that we haven’t learned yet, and our lectures are just YouTube tutoring videos. Why?

Because it’s a community college and she’s teaching 7 other classes and can’t even remember our names. Because they don’t have enough money to hire more chem professors.

She talked me out of taking my exam through the testing center and argues with me about my accommodations.

Because once again, the institution meant to teach me now does not have the money to teach the disabled kid.

Now if any of these institutions were given enough money (say by the government) they might have had the ability to allocate funds to maintain the resources to teach me and other kids like me.

But that wouldn’t be very profitable, because the money they COULD spend on hiring people qualified to help the disabled kids could be more EFFICIENTLY spent building fancier buildings in the hopes of bolstering enrollment rates. So that won’t happen. And if disabled kids were considered better investments, our services wouldn’t be the first things these places cut. But we are.

Yes. Eliminating capitalism is very difficult to do.

However as a disabled person I’m kind of sick to death of people who can work within the current system hearing “things need to change. If things do not change people like me will die prematurely in poverty, to say nothing of those already dying for our comforts in the global south”

Only to respond with “I mean. That slow and hard.”

It’s not about improving the education system. It’s about allowing people like me to survive. Because in this society survival is largely dependent on access to education. And right now people like me, with similar struggles but less resources to get help, they are using the most convenient (free) thing possible and cutting corners to succeed.

The issue is the system REWARDS cutting corners. You can crack down on ai. You can put a bandaid on this. It will help a bit. It will get the kids that need help kicked out and drive more of us to self medicate and ultimately die. And everyone will consider this a good thing because those lazy kids were stupid enough to use something to cheat the system.

And it will not fix everything. And the next method of academic dishonesty and cutting corners will come and we will have this conversation again.

And it will all come back to agreeing that yeah. Getting rid of capitalism is hard. And we’ll congratulate ourselves for having this talk and all agree to hope things get better.

And they won’t.

And the marginalized kids like me will learn once again, that people like us don’t get to be smart. And we certainly don’t get to weigh in on ‘intellectual’ topics (since we don’t have degrees) because we are and never will be good enough investments to be considered.

Also yes education on things like critical thinking, reading comprehension, attention span, and more are all very integral to social change.

However, a societal value shift in favor of marginalized, disenfranchised people, does not actually require much intellectual skill beyond learning how to shed this individualist way of thinking. Which actually does not require formal western education! And this is why it’s so important to consider other means of educating oneself and learning from one’s community!

Like once you start caring about and interacting with the people around you from a position of good faith, you inevitably learn things about how others live, and start to bring these concerns into how you live your life. Because suddenly you know a disabled person, you know a person without a degree, you know a recovering addict, you know an un housed person, you know sex workers who work street corners, these people on the fringes of society are no longer hypotheticals, theyre your friends, people you’ve shared meals and stories with. And suddenly you might care about things you never did before.

All without a single degree.

Here are a number of resources on how abolishing capitalism and colonialism is long overdue within academia.

If you have questions with any of those I’d be happy to discuss them, and if you’re feeling overwhelmed THIS is a fantastic primer.

I know this original discussion was about ai, however, as I said earlier, ai usage is a symptom of multiple much larger issues. To truly ‘fix’ the root of this problem is going to be long and complicated and hard. And it still needs to happen.

Kinda pisses me off that there ARE like. Actually effective ways the US could get students to stop using AI to do their schoolwork but those methods don’t follow capitalist and punitive logic and aren’t as easy and ego boosting as patting ourselves on the back and bemoaning how stupid and lazy kids are anymore.

So we’re gonna do the ‘calling kids spoiled and lazy’ thing once again and say “I got through just fine!”because actually taking this seriously and considering the use of AI for homework is a symptom of much larger issues, would force you to reckon with how you’re completely fine with a meritocracy so long as you aren’t at the bottom.

Cause fuck those lazy students, you got yours, right?

[emmatrustsno-one]

Brace yourselves A very long essay (like, a thesis) on the British class system with references to Harry Potter Part 2

Let’s continue. Have another comedy clip showcasing how stupid the upper-class is meant to be, to get you going:

A side point: almost all the British actors celebrated by Tumblr went to private or public school and are upper-class, or upper middle-class.Here’s a buzzfeed quiz to give your brain bracing time for part 2. I got it right for the exact same reason the top commenter did! Have a look once you’ve done it! That’s another blog post in itself!

https://www.buzzfeed.com/hattiesoykan/which-of-these-british-actors-didnt-go-to-a-private-school?utm_term=.ylwEEKxnDN#.mfyBBg7oQx

Food and diet

As I mentioned in my post about food in Harry Potter, food is intricately bound up with class. Working-class people have tradtionally had a poor diet, through poverty and lack of education, and also because of the impact of the Second World War, when food was very scarce. Where I am from people were still dying of malnutrition when my dad was teenager, so in the late 1960s. Working-class people then used to cook with beef dripping as they couldn’t afford other fats, and everyone on his street shared the same pan of dripping. I am from a former industrial town with two-up, two-down terraced workers’ houses, just like Snape, so we can assume that when Snape was a child he experienced similar levels of malnutrition around him.

Things are much better now, but in the last century people used to grow a lot of their own food if they had outdoor space, steal or not eat. They could afford to buy very little and then only the cheapest foods, which are often the least nutritious. It meant that they didn’t eat big or regular meals and that there was very little variety in their diets, and no treats. JKR has a story about trying to buy a tin of baked beans, and nothing else, from the supermarket, for her daughter’s meal, and having to put it back because she didn’t have enough money. Then, tins of beans were like 10p.

When my parents were at school, all kids used to get a small carton of milk for free at breaktime to make sure they were getting enough calcium. In the 70s, Thatcher (may she rot in hell) was education secretary (this was before she was prime minister) and she stopped the milk provision, which meant that many working-class kids stopped getting a key part of their nutrition. She was too disconnected from working-class people to understand, or care, that she was taking away critical nutrition. It was a political and social scandal and she got the nickname ‘Thatcher the milk snatcher’.

Best ever comment about that evil bitch is from the comedian Frankie Boyle, who had much to say about her, but the best was on the subject of her funeral: “give everyone is Scotland a shovel and we’ll dig a hole so deep we’ll deliver her to satan personally.”

Since we don’t finish school here until after 3, schools provide a lunch, which most people have to pay for (or you can take your own). The canteens in secondary schools are usually far too small and, certainly until very recently, when Jamie Oliver started a war on school food, served repetitive, low nutrient, processed rubbish. Until the turn of the century you would be lucky to get anything other than hot dogs, turkey twizzlers, chicken nuggets, chips and pizza, and when I say pizza, I mean a square chunk of dense bread with cheese and tomato purée on it. And cake. Now schools usually do at least pasta, salad and sandwiches as well. The main problem is budget. These schools are state-maintained and are given an allowance to spend on each thing. When Jamie Oliver started his campaign against poor quality school food, the school he worked with had a budget of 13p for every child. The ‘better’ the school the better the food: public schools, whose budget comes from fees, serve the kind of food Hogwarts did. Some kids, i.e. those from very low income families, are allowed a free school meal, and for many it is their only meal of the day, even now. I work in a working-class school and trust me, at least half never get a breakfast, and many have a sandwich for the evening meal. I know one boy who is given a Nutella sandwich every evening and that is all. Theresa May, who is a wannabe Thatcher, just announced recently that she is thinking of scrapping the free school meals program. It would be a disaster for the poorest kids.

Buying cheap food isn’t the only issue. Since working-class people work so much they are too tired and busy to cook proper meals, so they often settle for ready-meals, fast-food and takeaways. Lack of education has an impact as well. People eat food for taste and convenience alone, not fully grasping that they need to eat certain things to be healthy, and as a result many go under-nourished or become obese.

There is also the issue of how to cook things – not just in terms of lack of education, but in lack of facilities. Some people don’t have a hob, or an oven, maybe even just a microwave.

Hydration is an issue as well. A lot of working-class people don’t realise how much water they need to drink to be healthy, so they are dehydrated, and their kids are as well, so they don’t have very good concentration, so they don’t do as well at school, and the cycle of lack of education continues. 

Middle and upper-class people have the money, time and mental space to buy and make, or have made for them, varied, healthy foods. They have the education to eat and drink the right things. This means they are healthy and can concentrate at school or at other things and become successful.

Housing and class

Where you live is defined by, and indicative of, class. I am simplifying here, but in a nutshell, the north of England and a lot of Scotland and Wales is predominantly working-class. The further south you go, the higher the dominant class. This is because it was in the north that mills and factories were built in the Industrial Revolution, and because coal mines were up here. Many towns were built purposely to house workers of a certain factory, mill or mine. They all look the same, just with different bricks: terraced rows of small, dark houses with 2 rooms upstairs and 2 downstairs. Many have since been extended by owners to include an indoor bathroom, which would originally have been outside in an outhouse. A few people still had outdoor toilets in the 90s. The film Billy Elliot is an excellent overview of such towns and housing. If you haven’t seen it and you are interested in class, you should definitely watch it. Later on, social housing was built in the form of semi-detached houses and large blocks of flats, but detached houses have only recently become a thing for anyone other than the upper-class.

Working-class people end up living in the worst housing. Many of them rent rather than own, and that’s not as good here as in the rest of Europe. Tenants don’t have many rights and there is little regulation on landlords. Many people, right now, are living in slum housing. I am talking no flooring, unpainted walls, no heating, filth everywhere. You can either rent from a private landlord, who can do as little as he likes to make you comfortable, pretty much, or you can rent from your local council. Council housing is usually either semi-detached houses or in bigger cities flats in large blocks. The abysmal state of blocks of flats has recently been all over the news in the form of the Grenfell Tower block fire, where many people died and have had to be rehomed, simply because cheap cladding had been used on the outside of the building and the fire travelled up it like it was tissue paper. Many blocks have this same cladding on. The residents there had complained about safety many times but had been ignored. To make matters worse, there is a serious shortage of council housing across the country because fucking Thatcher (again) introduced a scheme where council tenants could buy their home if they lived in it for so long, and they could buy it for a crazily cheap price. Loads of people took advantage of it by buying their home for next to nothing, waiting a few years then selling it on for a massive profit, but of course that meant all the fucking social housing disappeared. My sister-in-law got divorced around 12 years ago and she went to the council to put her name on the list to get somewhere to live and the list was so long it took 5 years to offer her anything, and then it was the shittiest house imaginable, because that’s all they’ve got left.

They also ruin what little housing is left by a) putting loads of criminals and drug dealers etc in one place, so you end up with some estate from hell and b) putting foreign immigrants all in one place, so you end up with people who came here for asylum from either side of a civil war living next to each other, or ghettoising them so that they are abandoned and lost.

In Scotland working-class housing was, until very recently, tenement buildings, which were sort of communal flats. Families had their own rooms but had to share some of them. The stairs and communal areas were like something out of a Victorian workhouse. Slums. Here are some pictures, with info, of working-class housing in Glasgow between the 40s and 60s. Glasgow is especially woeful. I actually love the place, but there’s no denying it has been hell on earth for much of its history. I remember doing a geography project at school (mid 90s) and discovering that the life expectancy in the most working-class part of Glasgow was 54. It has gone up since, but is still below the national average: all the factors I have discussed combine to literally knock years off people’s lives.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/hilarywardle/glasgow-housing-crisis?utm_term=.apNOODpKkJ#.wn3BBNXxK4

Regarding the rows of terraces built to house industrial workers I mentioned earlier, this is exactly the sort of place Snape grew up. Here’s an example. They would have had a sitting room and kitchen downstairs and 2 bedrooms upstairs, with an outside toilet, while he was a child, and certainly no plumbed in bath or shower.

Upper-class people live in detached houses, usually historic ones like castles and former estates. They usually have multiple houses.

Middle-class housing is varied depending on whereabouts on the continuum people are. It ranges from townhouses, to large, nicer semi-detached houses, to detached houses to mansions. A key point I want to make here is that it is totally normal to have the lowliest of working-class housing, such as in the picture, and then a few minutes’ walk away, a middle-class area. Upper-class housing is always considerably separate from the other two, but working and middle are near each other. I saw a ridiculous post a few weeks ago claiming that Lily must have been poor because she lived close enough to Snape that Petunia knew who he was, but that is utter rubbish – that person can’t have been British. Nearly all towns have slummy areas and middle-class areas, and our towns are small. Also, he was doing that accidental wandless magic kids do, so no doubt he had a reputation for being a weirdo.

The mere fact that Petunia criticises Snape’s clothes proves beyond doubt that she wasn’t working-class, as in those days, everybody working-class was wearing hand-me-down clothes like that, therefore another “poor” person wouldn’t have noticed/mentioned. The punk movement’s fashion of safety pins in the 70s came about due to the simple fact that the working-class were wearing such old clothes that they were falling apart and they could only fix them with safety pins. As Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols said, “we had to use them – the arse was hanging off your jeans so you just had to shove a few safety pins in it.” So Petunia wasn’t poor or she would have empathised with Snape, not criticised him.

It crops up everywhere and all the time

By complete coincidence yesterday I saw a review on Amazon that completely illustrates how notions of class pervade our conscious in Britain. It was a review for a book about Freud and feminism, an academic work. It was the only negative review amongst quite a few positive ones. I’ll let you read it then I’ll discuss:

I bought a copy for a penny on Amazon and that was over spending. I have worked in the mental health field for over thirty years and have trained as a psychotherapist and am very well acquainted with Freud's work. I was shocked by how badly this author described his ideas. If I didn't already know what she was talking about I wouldn't have had a clue about what she was saying. She really seems to be someone who wants to make a somewhat complicated subject even more complicated. I stopped at the end of her second chapter as I just couldn't take anymore. I wouldn't describe her as providing the reader with an explanation, in fact one could be forgiven for viewing her writing as an attempt at deliberate confusion or if not confusion an attempt to make what Freud had written about sexuality as even more difficult to understand than it was. Perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised by this. The author is essentially taking a Lacanian position towards Freud, a position that upper middle class complicated academics have taken up. Unfortunately these are people who really don't want to accept what Freud actually wrote and instead want to impose on his writings their own wishes for what they would have preferred him to write i.e. that the unconscious is structured like a language and that word representations exist at this level, despite Freud's own writing that this isn't so. What amuses me is that author purports to be a Marxist. Given the way she writes it's clear enough that she wants to keep the uneducated working class at quite a distance. This book is in my opinion pretentious upper middle class trash. I'm giving my copy to Oxfam.

Firstly, the fact that it’s a stream of consciousness rant should tell you enough to know that it’s not trustworthy. The most important thing, though, is the linking of academic analysis with being upper middle-class. The reviewer has taken a stance on psychoanalytical ideas that is typical of the science side of the discipline. They clearly think it’s a waste of time to look for meaning beyond practical application, e.g. for literary analysis, and something only someone with time and money would do.

It goes deeper than that as well. There’s a clear derogatory link between academia and being upper middle-class and the reviewer is offended because, as a result of their lower class, they don’t understand the book. They have tried to blame the author, by throwing around intellectual names like Lacan and Marx, and showing that they are the sort of high-standing citizen that gives to charity, but ultimately, the subject matter of the book is beyond them. They have taken this to be a result of class hindrances, which it probably is. The reviewer isn’t educated or cultured enough to understand the book. This annoys them and so they are attacking those who are.

There is a perception, which is hard to explain, that the most difficult and annoying class is the middle-class. Part of this arises out of the fact that the middle-class is such a long continuum. People who are middle-class often have delusions of being very high class, even though they probably started as working-class. They are constantly competing with each other within the class. This review is, to me, a good example of that, because it’s obvious that the reviewer is lower middle-class themselves. They have a profession, they are educated at higher education level and they are reading books about Freud for fun. They are proud to be middle-class. But then this book comes along and makes them feel alienated from their own demographic. It makes them feel like an outsider; they don’t have the power to understand the book. So they attack the author for daring to show that they aren’t so high up after all.

The perception of middle-class people of being stuck-up also links to a perception that some upper-class people are easy-going and easier to get on with for working-class people than the middle-classes. The idea being, no doubt, that the upper and working classes both understand their place, they are content with who they are. But the middle-classes are always wanting to keep with the Joneses, to get better, to compete with you. Here are 3 comedy clips that illustrate my point. The first is stand-up comedy by Billy Connolly, who’s about as working-class as you can get (it’s just audio), and the others are from a 90s sketch show (bonus: the second one has the actor who plays Mr Weasley in it!)

I always felt like Gryffindor was a bit like the annoying middle-class guy comparing you to him. I can just hear Gryffindors saying “I couldn’t help but notice that I am considerably more perfect/popular than yooouuuuwww”!

In conclusion, feel free to dislike Severus all you want, but if you could stop calling him racist I would really appreciate it.

To finish (at last, I hear you cry) here is a Brief suggested watch/listen list if you interested in representations of class. They should all be accessible online.I am happy to answer questions about any of them.

TV-

Blackadder, but only series 2-4, 1 is shit (Rowan Atkinson plays a middle-class man stuck between the stupid working and upper-classes)

Harry Enfield and Chums, Little Britain (both sketch shows attacking all classes)

Only fools and horses (2 working-class brothers try to make a living by selling dodgy goods at the market)

Auf Wiedersehen, Pet (you will need subtitles – it’s about a group of guest workers in Germany and the main characters are geordies, which means from Newcastle)

The fact that these are all comedies says it all about our views of the situation.

Films – Billy Elliot (2000)

Pride (2014) (both are about the miners’ strike in the 80s, which is the most important event in recent working-class history, and both deal with LGBT themes)

East in East (1999) (about the added struggles for working-class immigrants)

The Full Monty (1997) (about unemployed working-class men stripping for money – it’s a comedy!)

Music – the album ‘Different class’ by Pulp, a band from Sheffield, a very working-class city (which I happen to love as I went to university there) which suffered terribly from the collapse of British industry since basically all the steel was made there. The film ‘The Full Monty’ is set there.

Other – any stand-up comedy (the working-class art) by the comedians Peter Kay or (pre-2000s) Billy Connolly.

Thank you and I apologise for the length!

[stellaralchemist]

The Void

The world shifted around her. She wasn’t where she had been anymore. The syringe stuck in her hand, and she pulled it away. Thick, shadowed vines coiled around the remains of the lab she had just been in. It was dirty now, covered in some foul grey dust, surrounded by those vines that seemed to eat into the metal of the ship’s hull and then slink into the electronics and the rotting piles of nothing. Her eyes turned abruptly to the center of the room, to the source of light amid these shadows.

It looked like an Aurin, or it was shaped like an Aurin, and it crackled with energy. Her first thought was to tell it she didn’t believe in ghosts, like it would stop existing once she informed it of her disagreement. No, that wouldn’t do. It stared at her, and she stared back, trying to get it into focus. It moved all wrong. Its eyes were all wrong. Her false eye couldn’t seem to track it and her real one, poor as it was, couldn’t seem to make it out entirely. It shook its head at her, and a voice that didn’t come from anywhere sounded somewhere far away.

Wrong one.

“What! Take me back, you little shit!” she shouted at it. “Take me-”

It was gone then, as though it had never been, and the room plunged into darkness.

“Fuck.”

-

None of the electronics worked. Their batteries were decayed beyond use. Elenia wrapped a mouldering blanket around herself against the cold, and squinted out into the valley. She thought for a few moments she had seen Jeremy and Jenny, but they had gone too quickly, before she could shout again. There and gone in an instant. That was all wrong. No one was even looking for her.

“Typical,” she said aloud into the cold, heavy air. Without a means of telling time, she was unsure how long she had been here. A few hours perhaps and nothing. Guy would work something out though. He probably was even now. He needed her to be alive. She sat down on the gangway to the ship, and watched the dead trees move without wind.

-

She had often joked about being happiest in a world where she never needed to eat or sleep. She would currently count those as positives in her situation. She also didn’t seem to need to clean out her vitalus, which was certainly good, as the supply in the Medbay was entirely non-existent. The real problem was that she was starting to get bored.

Elenia had never really dealt well with being alone. She liked having people around, if only to be rude to them. The silence was starting to make her antsy. Every little while, a dark shape passed over the exterior of the ship from somewhere above, and she didn’t much fancy dying in this annoying place. She had retreated back to her lab. A dark insect with too many legs scuttled by, and she went to crush it with her hand. It zapped her with a little electricity. She smashed it harder than she would have otherwise.

“Fucker,” she muttered, and reached for a cigarette she didn’t have. She would have killed for a cigarette.

-

Sand from beneath the sludgy water of the stream, two funnels from the kitchen, and a bit of discovered adhesive made an hourglass. Barring a difference of a few seconds, she now had a means to tell time--or at least indicate time had passed. Every creak and every sound meant a possible intruder. She suspected that the creatures in this Nothing World intended her harm if they intended anything.

She drew another formula on the wall in chalk, and pulled her blanket closer. It was too cold here to get any real work done. It was too hard to focus. Sometimes, the world drifted in and out, and she had begun to wonder whether she was dreaming.

Or perhaps she was dead. But surely if she was not someone must have been coming soon.

-

She recited poetry to keep herself sane, muttering low as she watched the shadows move.

My mournful friend, with his wings stretching wide, Is picking at bloody food right by my side.

She was quite sure it had been five days, or at least five sets of twenty-four hour periods, as measured by her hourglass. She agreed that she wasn’t very nice to people, wasn’t very sociable, but that was no reason to leave her here.

He’s picking and looking at me through the bars, Like having a thought that is common to us,

It was only the Void, after all. She wasn’t dead. She was very sure she wasn’t dead. Another little insect skittered across the floor, and she hesitated before crushing it.

Like calling to me with a glance and a sight, And wanting to say, "Let us fly outside!”

-

“You know, Marko is right,” she said to the insects in her trap. Too many legs and too many eyes and they lit up a little before they were going to zap you. There were five of them now, skittering around. She had dismantled the bed and used the drier parts of it to build a little fire while she worked. First, she had invented time, and now fire, and soon electricity; to think people had spent millennia in caves.

“I used to have a wonderful social network back home. We need these safety nets to stay sane. I love him, but really it’s too much for one person to deal with. I acknowledge that.” She tapped the cage and the disgusting little insects all electrified at once. The light bulb at the top stayed on, casting a better glow than the fire. “You are all happier together, aren’t you? The same really does hold to higher life forms. Anyway, it’s not their fault they’re idiots, really. Love makes people do idiotic things.”

She set the insect-powered battery and the light up on the top of a divider. It cast its light in strange directions.

“But I still hold less than a year is a ridiculous schedule to Pledge on. No one was ever hurt by a long engagement.”

-

Tapping sounds like rain touched the ship’s hull, and she tried not to breathe. It was bigger than she was, and it knew the rules of this place. Could it tear the metal apart like tissue? Could it sense her somehow?

Slow, shallow breaths. Something clicked against steel. Her eyes closed. Don’t look at it, just wait. Being alone was hardly ideal, but she couldn’t bear this infernal clicking, attracted by the light that leaked from the holes in the hull.

Just go. Just go away.

She caught sight of a broken steel rod, salvaged from the valley a few days earlier. The tapping passed to a side and she waited.

-

“It’s just not sensible,” she was explaining to the creature she had named the gryphon. Like the electrical bugs inside, its resemblance to anything real was passing at best. She was quite sure it was not dying, just stuck now to the ship, unable to pull away thanks to the steel rod lodged somewhere inside it. That was a lucky break. It was putting off more energy than the insects were. She dug wires attached to rusted needles into its unpleasant flesh.

Her fingers brushed against things like scabs, against flesh that moved in ways flesh shouldn’t. It had wisps of something like feathers but thinner, like hair but firmer.

“It’s not sensible to expect to be a special case just because you do not like the contract. The contract works for me, and I am the one doing the work. Other people are happy with the contracts as written. If it were a friendly relationship, it might be a whole other matter, but I have so much work to do.”

The creature let out a miserable noise, a shrieking moan that set her teeth on edge and made the world shimmer. At first, she thought it had been calling to its friends and had waited, but the gryphon had no friends. Maybe it was doing the same, talking to the world around it out of boredom.

“Now, obviously I am going to need to be more sensible about taking jobs once I’ve lost Guy--Lost Guy, that’s a funny way of saying it.” She uncoiled a length of copper wire, hooking it up to an odd little contraption she had been working on in the rotting lab. “You know, I really don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t help him. I just can’t lose another one. I hope he’s still all right. It’s been weeks.” The contraption sparked and whirred to life. She disconnected it again and walked it along the odd, sludgy stream, her breath misting in front of her.

-

She pulled the wiring out of her eye. The tweezers she had found were all right for the job, but this was the last thing she needed. The wires and this lens. That should do it. This bit was tricky though; she couldn’t see very well without it, and was nearly touching it with her nose to get the wiring out correctly. She ought to just replace the biological eye as well. It wasn’t doing any good.

She’d replaced her fingers, so why not both eyes? She fixed the lens to the little contraption, and said a prayer to Kemos, hands contorting in the proper motions. Perhaps he was not real. Perhaps he could not hear her here. But there was always hope.

But really, there was no sense waiting for the idiots to get her out of this mess. Elenia hated waiting on other people’s schedules. She carried it outside to that mess of fallen trees near the gate. Up here, she could sometimes hear sounds like the voices of people, and she thought there might be some kind of gap or thin spot. It was certainly worth a try.

She plugged in the wires, and watched the machine click to zero.

-

Elenia hit the ground with a thud. The world faded in and out, but she could see the blue sky.

That was lucky.

[anavoliselenu]

Freedom chapter 2

JUSTIN POV

"Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed."- Martin Luther King Jr.

All things Twilight related belong to Stephenie Meyer

"Justin," Selena purred in my ear, "wake up."

"No," I rolled away from her, "it's one in the morning, Selena. Go to sleep."

"I can't."

"Well, I'm exhausted," I complained. I already knew what she wanted just by the sound of her voice. Normally, I would be all for a little seduction and sex under the sheets, but not tonight.

Alec and I had spent all day removing tree stumps from the backyard to give us more room to expand the house in a couple of months. By the end of the day, I was covered in grime and my muscles were screaming in pain.

"Justin," She crawled over me lightly so that we were facing each other again, "it's too hot to sleep and I get all antsy at night now that I don't have a job."

"I can't help you, Selena. Go back to bed."

It had been a week since Selena quit at the club. I went in with her, and Nahuel glared at me the whole time we were there. Unknown to her, I had him arrested on trumped up charges of tax evasion. He had been rotting away in some dingy Brazilian jail for the past couple of days and probably wouldn't get out for another couple of months, at least.

Selena was planning on getting another job soon, but as of right now, she was enjoying her downtime.

"It's so damn hot," she breathed on my skin.

"What do you want me to do about it? I already opened the windows."

"I know you're not asleep." She wiggled into my arms, placing kisses on my bare chest. "Please…"

"No, go away."

I tried to hold off, but we both knew where this was going.

I sighed and laid on my back, spread eagle. "Do with me what you wish."

Selena climbed up and, of course, she knew how to get the right response out of me. Her legs widened over my lap, the cotton fabric of her panties meeting the already hard erection that I was sporting in my boxers.

I brought her face down to my lips, because I was now wide awake and ready to play.

I rolled us over and pinned her underneath my body. I immediately ground my pelvis against hers and could feel the effect of her desire when I felt the wet spot on her panties. Selena's eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she let out a throaty moan.

"You asked for it." I kissed her neck and started moving down over her shirt-covered chest. Her nipples were hard for me and waiting for attention. On a night like this, though, foreplay wasn't on the menu.

"You're taking too long," Selena lifted her hips up and slid her underwear down, throwing it somewhere in the room.

My hands traveled under the sheet and gripped her ass. I pulled my throbbing dick out of my boxers as she rolled us sideways so that we were facing each other. It sprang free, ready to find a home between Selena's legs. I positioned myself right at her wet entrance and pushed in slightly, letting my tip tease her just a little.

She gasped when I did it again, pushing further this time. She needed to be stretched, and Selena made sure that I was hitting the right spot by rolling her hips into mine. She leaned in close and scissored her legs through mine so that we were entwined, almost one person. Without even having to do any work, I slipped deep inside her wet pussy, both of us letting out a guttural moan at the sensation.

"Aren't you glad I woke you up?" Selena wheezed and threw her head back, giving me full access to her luscious neck.

"Fuck yeah," I growled, sliding over the sheets and deeper inside of her, "I give you permission to wake me up anytime."

"I'll keep that in mind." She grabbed hold of my hair, tugging and pulling in a gloriously assertive way.

Our legs were losing circulation because they were so tightly bound and small tingles started creeping over my skin. While thrusting, we held on to each other for leverage and ultimate friction, letting our bodies fall into sexual ecstasy. My kisses traveled over Selena's delicate collarbone and pert nipples, making my name fall from her perfect lips.

I knew her body backwards and forwards, so I could estimate when she was close. Selena's nails started scratching marks down my chest, creating pain and pleasure wrapped into one. She quivered violently as I pounded deeper, skin meeting skin.

Her entire body uncoiled without a word. There were just grunts and whimpers as we both erupted into each other. I felt long spurts of cum leave my dick as they coated her walls and created sloppy noises down below. I shuddered as the last remnants of my release dripped out, and my entire body suddenly became exhausted after the high I just rode.

Neither Selena nor I moved for what seemed like hours.

"Holy shit." Selena's head rolled onto the pillow, but she didn't disentangle herself from me.

"Like I said, wake me up anytime." I kissed her lips roughly. "That was intense."

"I don't know what came over me." She finally let go and scooted away.

I took a deep breath, bringing my body back to life and stared up at the ceiling. "I'll suffer any punishment for a fuck like that again." I looked at her. "Are you sleepy now?"

She giggled and nodded. "I'm exhausted. Thank you."

"Would it be completely crass of me to fall asleep now?" I shut my eyes, not being able to keep them open any longer.

"Goodnight, Justin." I felt her soft lips on my cheek.

I heard Selena get situated next to me, and then settle herself into bed. After a few minutes, I opened one eye just to check on her. It had become somewhat of a ritual in the past couple of years. I couldn't sleep unless I knew she was safe and content. Whether we were angry at each other or just had a major argument, I would toss and turn all night. Something inside of me just wouldn't shut off.

I rolled over and didn't even bother covering myself up. It was too hot for that. I just drifted off to sleep.

Sometime around three, the discomfort in my back started to make itself known. I tried to ignore it and forget the pain was even there, but that didn't happen.

I got out of bed and lightly padded into the bathroom. Without turning on the lights, I went straight for those nice little blue pills on the counter and took two of them. The uneasiness subsided within minutes, and I knew I would be alright for the next twelve hours or so.

I pulled my pillows off of the bed and set myself down on the carpet to finish out the night. Most times when I had back problems, I slept here. Selena hated it. She told me I wasn't healthy, but I begged to differ. At least I wouldn't wake up in twisted knots in the morning. I tried not to think about how many disgusting germs might be around me and closed my eyes again.

It took me an hour of restlessness to realize that I wasn't going back to sleep.

"What's going on?" Selena asked me sleepily as I started to get up from the floor.

"I can't sleep," I told her.

"Why?" She rolled over to look at me through hooded eyes.

"It's nothing. Go back to bed." I kissed her. "I'll be downstairs and I'm turning on the air condition. It's too fucking hot in here."

"Okay."

I closed all the windows in the room, and then ventured out into the hallway to blast the shit out of the A/C. It almost immediately became freezing in the house, but it was better than the hell of the tropical season.

I went downstairs, flicked on the lights, and decided to make myself a pot of coffee. No one manufactured coffee like Brazil, and it could keep you up for days. It was like crack, but tasted so much better. While I waited, I sat on the couch and watched the news, catching up on what was happening in the real world. I tried not to care about anything going on anywhere else. Nothing mattered but this little island, Selena, and Alec.

If you would have told me that this would be my life four years ago, I might have shot something. Back then, this kind of existence made no sense to me. Now, the regularity of island life had become my sanctuary. The simplicity, the easiness, the freedom; it was exactly what I needed. I would probably be dead for real by now if I stayed in Chicago.

The coffee pot dinged softly, indicating that my morning pick-me-up was ready. The sun wouldn't be up for another four hours, so I couldn't go for a run like I wanted. I settled for sitting on the couch and barely watching the TV.

I heard the light movement of feet upstairs and a couple minutes later, Selena came down wiping her eyes.

"If we're going to stay up, I need more than coffee." She plopped down next to me and took my cup from me.

"You can go back to bed."

"Not now. I'm already up."

Selena just didn't like it when I wasn't in the bed with her. That's probably why she hated when I slept on the floor. By now, we had gotten our 'late-night-no-sleep-dates' down to a science. We had them probably about once a week.

"So… I'll get the Scrabble?" she asked, almost hopefully.

"And I'll get more coffee." I got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to retrieve bigger cups.

By the time I had come back, Selena was on the floor in front of the coffee table, setting up the massive Scrabble Deluxe Edition board.

"We are such nerds," Selena said with a laugh, "but I love this game so much."

"No making up words this time." I sat across from her, stretching my legs out.

"Excuse me, but I don't make up words. Just because they aren't in the dictionary doesn't mean they don't exist."

"That's exactly what it means."

"I'm sure they exist somewhere." She glared at me.

"You're just a sore loser."

In over a year of doing this, Selena had never once won a game of Scrabble. Sometimes, I would think about letting her scoot by with a victory, but she acquired this proclivity for making things up. She had a degree in fucking English literature, and yet she couldn't think of real words to put on the board. She always complained that her letters never made anything worthy of points.

"I'm not a sore loser," Selena argued. "You just need to stop using those big words that no one can understand."

"I can't help it." I shrugged, superiorly sipping my coffee. "I play to win."

She squinted at me while picking her letters and the game began.

Of course, ten minutes in, we were already quarrelling over one of her words. I tried to explain to her that "s-p-r-a-m-p" didn't exist. Selena challenged that it did. About six months ago, the dictionary was "misplaced", so I couldn't really debate, but she ended up conceding.

"I can't believe you." Selena shook her head as she wrote down my sixty-eight-point word.

"Triple word, double letter on a 'W', and triple letter on an 'F'," I gloated. "Don't cheat me either."

"This is ridiculous. Who would have ever thought 'waffle' was going to be my enemy?"

Before I could reach my hand into the velvet pouch to pull out more letters, the lights shut off completely. The air conditioner also powered down simultaneously, and an eerie silence fell over the room.

"What's happened?" Selena whispered.

"I don't know," I said quietly. I was instantly on alert, listening and squinting in the dark for any abnormality.

Alec suddenly crept into the room, wielding a rather large pistol and a semi-automatic strapped around his chest. I thought he might be sleepwalking or some shit like that, but there was a strange glare in his eyes that I could even see in the shadows.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, my voice low and grainy.

"Do you two not hear that?" He turned towards us. "Stop fucking around. We have company."

"Great spy line." I rolled my eyes. "What's going on?"

"Just listen." He crawled on the floor towards the glass, sliding door and pulled the curtains closed.

I tuned everything out and honed my hearing. It only took a second for me to hear it, and when I did, I jumped up from the floor.

"Justin, what is it?" Selena asked.

"Boats," I answered shortly.

"Wave runners," Alec said. "Six, I think. I couldn't see them from my window, but I sure as hell could hear them." He peeked out of the curtain.

"What the hell do they want? How did they find us?" Selena questioned. I was asking myself the same thing.

"And they have guns, so… there's that." Alec sighed. "I don't think they're friendly."

"Selena, I need you to go upstairs." I went into the massive gunroom, which I of course kept stocked to the fullest.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't have time to argue with you." I handed her a couple firearms; I wasn't sure which ones. "Please just listen to me. Go upstairs and lock the door. I have a key so if someone knocks, it's not me. We just need to sort this out and-"

"I'm not leaving you two down here," she interrupted me.

"I will carry you up there if I have to." I had to stop myself from yelling, "Please… just listen to me."

Selena thought for a second, her feelings evident on her face, before she nodded. "What do they want?"

"I don't know, Selena, but I promise that I'm going to find out and we're going to get them off of our island."

"This is happening really fast," she exhaled.

I nodded. "I'm going to handle this."

"They're coming," Alec whispered.

"How many are there?" I asked him.

"Six and they all have some impressive firepower."

"Go upstairs," I told Selena. "I'll be up there when this is finished. No matter what you hear going on down here, don't come out of our room." I pulled down the smallest bulletproof vest that I had made especially for her and strapped it to her body, making sure it was secure.

"Be safe," She hugged me tightly around my neck. "I want them off of our island, Justin."

"They will be," I vowed. "If anyone comes in the room, shoot them. Don't think about it." I pushed her up the stairs and didn't move until I heard the lock on our bedroom door.

"How do you want to do this?" Alec asked me as I grabbed anything and everything I could, including my trusty golden Eagle. I was surprised I still had the thing.

"I need one of them alive. Kill anything else that moves," I instructed, putting on my own vest and handing one to Alec. "I want to know who they are, why they're here, what they want, and how they found us."

"Yes, sir." Alec saluted. "Are we waiting for them?"

I looked around the spacious first floor of the house. Fortunately, we had enough room to maneuver. My mind went into overdrive: making game plans, finding exits, trying to deduce the best strategies, seeing if there were any valuables that needed to be put up. I had a feeling that this wasn't going to be a friendly visit.

"Wait for them," I said mostly to myself.

I flipped the kitchen table over. I went into the family room and did the same to the couch, the coffee table, spilling the Scrabble game and coffee onto the floor. Alec helped me push the bookcase into the middle of the room—anything for coverage.

There were six of them and two of us. They had the advantage because they were prepared. There wasn't any way we were going to stop them from coming in, so why try? I didn't want to stop them, anyway. They were going to get one hell of a surprise.

I sent Alec into the kitchen, while I crouched on the floor to wait for whoever was trying to attack my home. I could feel my heart beating with the rapid anticipation that I usually got with a gun in my hands. I guess my time off had come to a sudden halt.

"This had to be the night that I forget to set the alarm system," I berated myself. I never forgot to set the alarm. There was a buoy a mile out, bobbing in the ocean that was made especially for situations like this. It should have alerted me to any boat that came near this island.

I stopped my thoughts to just listen and heard footsteps in the sand. There were six sets, just like Alec said. My inhuman senses could pick up the heaviness of each man and the sound of their guns clicking together. I didn't know who they were or what kind of breed these men came from, but I could tell they wouldn't go down easily.

Something slid across the floor and hit me in the knee. It was a small pocketknife that I had given Alec for his seventeenth birthday. He gave me a thumbs-up before slinking back around the corner. I kept the knife close to me for safekeeping.

The locks on the door began to jiggle and I crossed myself twice just as it banged open. I stayed in my spot behind the sofa, barely breathing. I wanted to know what they were all about. Silence was golden in my situation.

"Where are they?" a gruff voice asked.

"I saw movement. They're here." another replied.

"How many are we supposed to take care of?"

"Three. He said there were three."

"Why are we even here?"

"Because the pay is good. Stop complaining and find them."

Alec was the first one to shoot, and the sound of hasty bullets suddenly erupted around me. I kept my head low and just opened fire in the general direction where I heard the most commotion. I realized that my house was probably going to be destroyed.

There were approaching footsteps of a man, and I judged his distance from my hiding place. When he was close enough, I stood up and prepared to unload a full clip of lead into his chest. He was in full military gear, complete with a helmet, bulletproof vest, and a thick jacket to cover his body.

That left two main targets for maximum penetration: the face and the groin. I didn't even give him a chance to prepare himself before I fired everything the powerful weapon had. His body jerked violently as his blood splattered the white curtains behind him.

I didn't have time to savor the feeling of a fresh kill before I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye and reacted immediately, firing everything the gun had. He was on the ground, but still wiggling in despair. I kicked off his helmet so that I could see his face and then took the knife, plunging it deep into the soft flesh of his neck. I ripped it out and a fountain of blood sprang up as he took his last breath.

The family room was quiet with three bodies on the floor around me. The lights were still out, and the walls were littered with bullet holes. The smell of new blood seeped into the carpet and I could almost feel the spooky ghosts of the fallen in the air.

Quick and easy kills. Three down.

I treaded lightly and quietly, keeping to the shadows. There wasn't any noise, but that only made me feel more alert. I took each step deliberately and listened with waiting ears.

I distinguished Alec's footsteps from down the hall. I whistled a high-pitched noise, and he whistled back, our cue to put the guns down.

"What the hell was that?" He came around the corner with an angry face. "You didn't even give me a chance to pick them off."

"You started shooting first. I thought it was time to start the firing squad."

"You planned that badly. No warning, no game plan. It was messy." He huffed, "I only got two."

"I took three. That means there's one left." I repositioned my gun. "Did he go outside?"

Before Alec answered there was a loud pop from upstairs, and it took me a second to remember that Alec and I weren't the only ones in the house.

I climbed the stairs three at a time and had my gun ready to kill.

The first thing I noticed when I rounded the corner into the upstairs hallway was that my bedroom door was busted clean through. The wood looked like it had barely survived a stampede. It was splintered off in all directions and what little piece that was left, was hanging off the hinges.

I rushed into the room and saw a guy on our bed, clutching his shoulder, his blood staining the sheets red. He wasn't dead, but looked not very far from it.

Selena held a small gun in her slightly shaking hands. There was a stone cold look one her face, and a deep scratch on her cheek. It was almost as if someone had tried to swipe her with a knife or some animal had clawed at her.

"You fucking bitch," the man groaned, rolling over the bed like he was gasping for air.

I took the butt of my Eagle and smashed him in the forehead. He yelped in pain and muttered indistinguishably as his eyes rolled closed.

"Jesus Christ, Selena." Alec looked around the room, which was disheveled and in complete tatters. Everything was broken or split in two.

"Did he do that?" I cupped her cheek, which was starting to bleed. The gash wasn't deep, but it looked painful. "What did he do to you?" I asked, my voice strained from the anger that was coursing through my veins.

She nodded and handed me the gun she was holding. "I'm fine. He… just started banging on the door and I shot him."

"Are you okay? What did he do?"

"Nothing. He chased me around and tried to grab me." Selena sighed, pulling up the ripped portion of her shirt that was falling down. She collapsed tiredly in a chair in the corner. "He was a jackass."

I noticed holes in the walls that could only be made by bullets.

"Did he fucking shoot at you?" I yelled.

"I think so. I shot at him first, though." She shrugged, "I know him."

"You know him?"

"Well, he came into the bar last week. He had a gun, but I didn't think anything of it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was more worried about your bloodied, cut up hand. Besides, it's not the first time some guy with a gun has come into the bar. He said his name was Ben."

"You sure did a number on him." Alec tried to roll the guy over. He was breathing harshly, and judging by the amount of blood loss on the bed, he didn't have much longer to live. "One shot through the shoulder and one in the stomach. Good job, Selena."

She smiled wryly and slumped deeper into the chair. It was the first time Selena had shot a real person. I trained her with cadavers so that she would know how it felt to put a bullet through an authentic body, but she'd never come close to actually doing it.

I knelt down in front of her, pulling the guns off of my body. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine." She nodded, trying to be strong. "What happened downstairs? Did you get hit or something?"

"No, of course not."

Selena got up from the chair and lightly climbed over the rubbish in our room. She went into the bathroom and came back with a washcloth and a Band-Aid.

"What the hell is going on, Justin?" she asked and wiped the wet cloth over her face. "I don't like this."

"I don't know, Selena. Are you sure you're okay?"

"If you ask me that one more time, I'll shoot you." She scowled. "I'm fine."

Selena's face and actions were saying something totally different from her words. She was almost shaking. Her feet brought her towards me, and I wrapped my arms around her when she rested her head on my chest.

"Were you scared?" I asked.

"It was just happening so fast and I was trying not to think about what was happening downstairs."

"Selena, it's okay. You did exactly what I told you to do," I assured her. "You did nothing wrong."

She nodded. "I know."

"Good."

"If we want any info out of this bastard, we might need to work fast. He's slipping," Alec said.

"Alright, let's get him outside." I kissed the top of her head and made sure that she could stand up straight on her own. I then went to help Alec lift the guy up.

Selena moved stuff out of the way as Alec and I dragged him off of the bed. His blood created a trail behind us as we pulled him through the house, and I had to kick dead bodies of the way as I stumbled out of the door.

"This is so fucked up." Alec strained as he lifted the guy up higher by the arms. "We were attacked."

"We were invaded," Selena said, following behind us.

"Like on the beaches of Normandy. I just watched a documentary on it the other day," Alec replied. "This is another world war."

"This whole situation is bullshit." I dropped the body behind the house. The sun was about to come up, and the morning birds were starting to chirp happily.

Alec rushed off to get the things we needed. He knew the drill by now and didn't waste any time. He brought back a rickety old chair and a thick rope that we usually tied the boats up in.

I started to strip the guy out of his clothes. He would mumble something incoherent every couple of seconds. I searched through all his pockets, searching for any form of identification. I found a small black book and handed it to Selena. "See if there's anything useful in there."

"What are you going to do to him?" she asked and flipped through the pages.

"Eventually kill him," I answered truthfully.

"He has our names."

"Which names?" I ripped the bulletproof jacket off of the man, who was still alive and starting to wake up. His blood was coating my hands, but I kept digger deeper, trying to find more information.

"Our real names and pictures. They look like they were taken from far away. We're on the beach."

What the fuck?

" Who is this guy?" Selena asked.

"I don't know. His uniform isn't anything I recognize." I was trying to stay as calm as possible, to appear like I had this situation under control. In reality, this wasn't looking good at all.

"Let's kill him now," Alec exhaled, cracking his neck.

I shook my head.

I got the man down to his boxers. He had nothing else on him, but according to Selena his name was Ben. Alec and I put him in the chair, tying him up tightly with the rope. He was tottering on his ass, like he was drunk.

"Is he dead yet?" Selena whispered to me.

"No, he's still alive." I tapped the man on the head. "Wake up!"

He grunted and gurgled something that I couldn't understand, so I tapped him again. This time his eyes shot open, and his face twisted in pain.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" I asked. I had almost no patience to deal with this man, so if he didn't answer my questions, he was going to die quicker than he already was.

"Where the hell are my clothes?" He wheezed and coughed. "Where are my men?"

"Who are you?" I asked again.

"I… I don't know."

"Yes you do." Selena slapped the shit out of him, "You came into the bar last week. I made you a fucking drink." She slapped him harder this time.

"Selena," I picked her up and set her back down away from Ben, "You can't kill him yet."

"He's a liar."

"Of course he is. It's an act. Let me handle this."

She scowled, but nodded.

Ben screeched to the high heavens, screaming for any help that was out there. Selena cringed next to me, and Alec shuddered in annoyance. I let the man scream.

"No one's going to hear you," I said after he was finally out of breath. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" He choked and turned his head away. He tried to get loose from his bindings, struggling to break free.

"Selena, can you go to the beach, please, and wait there?" I asked, but it definitely wasn't a question. "Don't go inside of the house and fire a gun if anyone else comes." I handed her the pistol I was carrying.

She debated for a second, biting her lip in typical Selena fashion. She nodded silently and ran out of the forests, on the path back towards the beach.

"I'm not going to ask you again." I tried to calm myself down. "Tell me who you are and why you're here."

The man still didn't say anything. He was dying anyway, so maybe he just didn't care.

I took the same small dagger from Alec and didn't hesitate as I placed the tip on the guy's bare chest. The blood from his shoulder was dripping down and I guessed I only had about ten more minutes before he passed out again.

I dug the point of the knife into his skin, carving a large 'E' into his muscle. It was just deep enough to cause a considerable amount of pain, which was apparent on his face.

This man was definitely going to remember my name before he died.

"If you tell me what you're doing here, I might just spare you," I lied, dragging the knife over his skin again, creating the beginning line of a 'D'.

"I get paid to kill," he said through his clenched teeth.

"An assassin?" Alec asked from behind me.

"No, he's a mercenary," I replied. I could spot a hired killer from a mile away. This man was trained militarily. "Who do you work for?" I questioned, completing the 'D' and moving onto the 'W'.

"A company based in Texas." He was shaking and sweating profusely as my knife carved into his flesh. "We get paid to kill, but we don't know why or who. We don't ask questions."

"Who paid you?" The 'W' was now complete, and I decided to give the guy a break so he could breathe.

"My boss, but I don't know who put the hit out on you. I just get a call and get on the plane."

"And how did you find us?" Alec asked.

"They gave us the location. We don't get to ask questions," he garbled.

I realized that we weren't going to get any more information out of him because his speech was slurring and his eyes were fluttering closed. He had done well so far, but now that I had begun to write my name on this man's chest, I wanted to finish. He had tried to hurt my family. He actually put his hands on Selena. That was unacceptable. I wanted to see if he could last the carving of his body.

By the time I had finished the last 'D', he was dead and his head limped forward as his body stilled. He was covered in grime, dirt, sweat, and sticky blood. I didn't care about his real name or if he had a family or how old he was. None of that mattered.

"We're being hunted," I exhaled in defeat. Our time on this island was quickly coming to a close.

"Who the fuck knows we're here and why are they trying to kill us?"

"It could be anyone." I had a list of about fifty people in my head that had the resources for something like this. Hell, this invasion was something I might try later if I ever got the chance. "We need to leave. If they can find us then so can anyone else."

"Where are we going to go?"

"I don't know." I stood up and started to make the walk back to the house.

Selena was sitting on the beach, just like I asked her, as the sun came up over the ocean. Alec went inside. I sat next to her and just watched the view.

"What did he have to say?" she asked.

"They were hired to kill us. He doesn't know who, but someone knows we're here and wants us dead."

"So soon?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then, where are we going now?"

"I'm not sure. Give me a couple hours to think about it." I turned towards her. "You know I would never let anything happen to you, right?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"I never want something like that to catch us off guard again." I put my arm over her shoulders. "If you want… you can go home, back to Seattle or wherever. Alec and I…"

"No, no, no," she interrupted with an almost angry voice. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with you."

I let out a relieved sigh. I hated that Selena was in the middle of this and on several occasions, I tried to convince her to go home and have a normal life with some other man that could give her what she needed. That was the worst kind of pain imaginable. I could suffer through almost anything, but to see her leave would almost be unbearable. But I guess I'd let her. Maybe? Possibly?

"Wherever you go, I go." She melded her lips to mine softly, tenderly; eagerly. I had no choice but to comply.

"I hate to break up the love fest, but we need to clean up and make plans," Alec's voice said, interrupting us.

I broke away from Selena reluctantly and touched the Band-Aid on her face. She smiled tightly and got up from the sand, pulling me with her.

The cleanup was always the messiest job of any operation, no matter which side you were on. Alec and I spent the first early hours of the morning digging deep holes behind the house. We made two of them. We then gathered all the bodies together and stripped them down, leaving them in nothing. We checked the pockets for something, anything. They were mysteries to us, so we treated them like nothing more than cattle.

We threw their clothes into one hole and I dowsed them in kerosene, throwing a match into the pit. Alec kept the smoke from ascending too high into the air. We didn't need anyone else knowing we were on this island.

Once the clothes were nothing more than ashes, I started covering the hole up.

Alec and I then tipped each of the bodies into the second ditch. They were all heavy men who had scars over their skin, showing their experiences in the field; probably ex-marines or Navy Seals.

We executed the same procedure with the bodies, burning them and tending to the smoke. It took a lot longer to get the bones and melting flesh down to gray ash. Again, we covered the hole with dirt.

Before either of us could say anything, Selena ran up next to me, out of breath and sweating.

"What's wrong?" I asked her impatiently.

"The phone's ringing. The house phone," she panted.

We looked at each other in confusion. First off, we had a house phone, but no one dared use it. The thing was already installed when I got here. Second, I was surprised it hadn't been massacred in the shootout like everything else in the house.

Selena took my hand and started running back towards the house. Alec followed us. We got there a couple minutes later and like she said, the phone was ringing shrilly.

It was on the counter, vibrating angrily as if to say, 'Pick me the fuck up!'

I sat on one of the stools that hadn't been demolished.

"What do we do?" Alec asked.

"Pick it up?" Selena suggested. "Who could it be?"

"I don't know. No one has this number. I don't even know it."

This was insanely strange. We get attacked and now the phone that no one uses starts ringing. I hadn't even had time to sort this shit out yet. I needed just five minutes alone to myself to get my brain back into fighting mood.

The phone stopped for a second, but started ringing again without a break.

"Let me talk. Don't say a word," I told the both of them.

I took a deep breath and pressed the speakerphone button.

"Hello?" I asked, not letting myself falter.

"Justin? Thank God." Carlisle's voice was relieved and anxious at the same time.

"Dad?" I furrowed my brow in confusion. "What the hell are you doing calling this number?"

"I had to check. Are you alright?"

"Yeah… What…" I showed rare signs of speechlessness.

"Are Selena and Alec there? Are they alright?"

"They're fine. I sent them outside." I lied. He didn't need to know that they were next to me. He would alert what he was going to say if he knew they were close, "Why are you calling?"

"We were attacked last night. A whole group of guys were at the house with guns and whatever the hell else they brought with them. It was ridiculous. One of them spilled after some persuasion. He said they had some men going to Brazil to…"

"It was an ambush from all fucking sides!" I slammed my fist down on the table. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No, we're all okay thankfully, but I was worried about you guys. I was two seconds away from getting on a plane."

"What the hell kind of show are you running up there? What the fuck is going on?" I demanded an answer.

"Justin, we don't have time to argue about this…"

"Who knows we're here? Did you tell anyone?"

"Of course I didn't. Do you think I would put my family in jeopardy like that?"

"Well, I'm not so sure now."

"Justin, stop it! No one knows and this is the hardest secret I've ever had to keep in my life, but I did it to protect you. Stop accusing me of things you know nothing about."

I pulled at my hair in frustration. Selena's hand ran over my back to comfort me, but it did little this time. Alec was itching to say something, but stayed silent on my command.

"We're leaving soon, possibly tonight," I told him.

"I'm already making arrangements."

"I don't know where we're going, but we have to move fast."

"You're going to Rome. The plane will pick you up tomorrow morning."

"Rome?" I lifted my head in confusion. "Why the fuck are we going to Rome?"

"Because… we weren't the only ones ambushed. Your grandfather was killed last night, Justin. I need you to come to the funeral."

Once again, I was dumfounded at the turn of events. Was he serious? Could this really be happening? We were talking about the same man? Nicola Rossini? No, it couldn't be.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice was raspy and sore.

"I don't know all the details. Whoever is behind this organized it quite well. We were all attacked around the same time. I got the call that he didn't make it. We're having a funeral next week and you have to be there. You all have to be there."

"We're not going. We can't go to that."

"Justin, it's time to come home, back to Chicago."

I knew he was going to say that. I knew it.

"I'll take care of everything, but… I need you here. There are too many things working against us right now and I need to present a united front for the family."

"What family?" I spat. "Don't pretend like…"

"Justin, I don't have time to argue with you anymore. You're coming home. I'm glad you're all safe, but this has gone on far enough. I can't keep you hidden any longer. If Selena would like to come then I can make arraignments for her as well, but you need to tell her that she's in no way bound to you. Make it clear that she is free to leave whenever she chooses."

Selena shook her head vehemently with tight lips.

"So, we're just going to pack up and walk into the states like we're normal people?"

"I'm handling it," he replied cryptically. "I don't know what's going to happen in the future, but you and Alec will be here for the family."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes. It's time to come home."

SELENA POV

"Every human has four endowments- self awareness, conscience, independent will and creative imagination. These give us the ultimate human freedom... The power to choose, to respond, to change."-Stephen R. Covey

All things Twilight related belong to Stephenie Meyer.

I paced the floor in the bathroom and tried not to think negatively, but I had so many things going through my brain that I was starting to get a headache.

We have to go home?

What was home? Home was here, on this island, with Justin and Alec. I didn't know how to live in the real world anymore. It seemed too big after being in the freedom of this place.

Everything had unraveled in a matter of hours.

It was the first time I had put a bullet through a real person, and it was... strange. Shouldn't I have felt some kind of remorse or regret? That's what scared me the most. I didn't feel anything. I had just potentially killed a man and instead of reacting, my body went numb. I was more scared for myself and what that meant. I might need to see a therapist or something.

And then there was a phone call; something so small that changed everything and I wasn't expecting it at all—none of us were.

Of course we had to leave; I knew that much. But going home, back to Chicago? Maybe to some foreign Asian country or a mountainous region where no one could find us. But Chicago? That never crossed my mind as an option. I didn't even think that was a possibility for another decade or so, and I had made peace with that. Now I didn't know what to do.

But before we even touch down at O'Hare, there was business to take care of in Italy. Nicola was dead. It was peculiar to say that out loud, but it was true. He was murdered. Justin and I hadn't talked about it yet. He had been sitting in the library all day, and I didn't dare bother him.

Everyone was going to be at that funeral; Alice, Rose, Emmett, Jasper, Carlisle, Esme. What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to act? Plus, I was going to have to contact my parents. Charlie was probably going to kill me and Renee would just scream at me until I was blue in the face. Nothing good could come of it.

I was more worried about how Justin was going to take this sudden thrust back into the new world. He had a better life here. He was calm and healthy and… alive.

Alec stumbled into the bathroom, having to climb over a broken dresser that was still covering the door. I didn't bother cleaning anything up in the house. We were leaving and there wasn't any point. Justin said that Carlisle was having people sterilize the place once we left.

"I hate this shit." He kicked the wall. "I'm not going back."

"Yes, you are," I said strongly.

"No, I'm staying my ass right here and I'm going to go to college here and I'm going to…"

"It's not like you have a choice," I interrupted him. "You can't stay here by yourself."

"So, you want to go home?"

"Sure, it would be great to stay here another couple of years, but we knew this was going to happen." I realized that my dialogue was completely opposite from my thoughts, but I was trying not to show it.

"There's nothing for us back in Chicago." He jumped up on the counter. "What are we supposed to do there?"

"I don't know. Carlisle will figure it out." I started throwing things away in the bathroom just for something to do. We couldn't take much with us, and there were only a couple of things that were of sentimental value anyway.

"And what about you? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going with Justin."

"I know that, but what's back in Chicago for you? Don't you want to go back to Forks?"

"Not to live. I'll go see Charlie." I shrugged.

Alec kicked his feet against the cabinets, and I knew he wanted to say something. "I never thought this was going to happen so fast. I don't know what to say to Ma or… anyone. Are we going to see them at them funeral?"

"I would assume so."

"And then after that?"

"I'm not sure," I answered honestly.

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. It began to rain outside, and the pounding droplets of water on the roof were starting to make my head hurt again.

"I… just…"Alec began, but bit the inside of his cheek.

"What?"

"Never mind." He shook his head.

"No, tell me."

"Well, you and Justin have been together for three years now and I'm not counting those two you spent apart. You never let each other go either. You were locked up and he waited for you, Selena. He was celibate for two years, waiting for you. You guys are more in love than people who've known each other their whole lives." He paused. "Aren't people supposed to get married by now?"

My heart jumped a little in my chest at the simple word of 'marriage'. We hadn't really ever talked about that since being here. Of course I wanted those things and I wanted them with Justin, but we never discussed it.

"Usually. Maybe." I shrugged as if didn't mean anything. "Why? Did he say anything?"

"No, and that's just stupid to me. He loves you; you love him. Get fucking married."

"You know your brother," I sighed.

"Do you want to get married?"

"Yes," I answered with my head down, "I don't want to push him though."

"Selena, you of all people should know by now that Justin doesn't do anything without a push. He needs a massive kick in the balls."

As I listened to Alec, I started to imagine my life as a wife. Would it be any different from what we had now? We lived together, we shared a life together; we had a home together. Justin would argue that marriage was just a piece of paper that didn't really mean anything. Well, it meant something to me, damn it!

How much longer did he expect me to be his girlfriend? Granted, we were at a much higher level in our relationship and we had a more stable connection than many married couples I knew, but I still wanted that final piece of the puzzle. We weren't going to be alive forever. I just shot someone who died because of the bullets I put through his body. We were just attacked in our house. Mortality and time meant something more to me now that the real world was closing in on us. Both weren't infinite.

I suddenly got pissed. What was wrong with him?

"I'm going to talk to Justin." I scowled. I jumped over the broken dresser and tried not to look at all the blood that was still drying in our bedroom. The smell was horrible.

None of the lights were on when I reached the library, but Justin was sitting in his chair, banging his head on the desk. I let him continue for a little bit before I cleared my throat. I was going to approach this hesitantly or he might shut me out completely.

But I had leverage. If Justin wanted me to come with him, he needed to promise me a future.

"How are you doing?" I asked stupidly.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, but I feel… excited about going back. I feel like I might need more time, though."

"You knew this was going to happen. We all knew this was going to happen someday."

"But not today," he groaned. "It's too soon. I don't even know if I can get into the country undetected."

"Probably not." I went over to him and could already see the change in his body. He was rigid and tense, almost as if he was carved from stone.

"Carlisle said he was handling it, but I put too much faith in that man in the past. I need to know what he's planning. I guarantee you there's more to it than what he said over the phone."

"He knows what he's doing," I assured him.

"And then what am I supposed to say to Esme or my brothers? This is not going to end well."

"Probably not," I said again. "Um, we need to talk." I sat in the chair near the desk.

"I thought that's what we were doing?" He raised his head.

"I know I said that I would go back with you, but I don't think I'm going to," I said flatly and incredibly calm, not showing any signs of wavering.

Justin blinked a couple of times, soaking up what I just said, but didn't reply right away. It took at least a minute for him to respond, "Okay. Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know. Spend time with Charlie or go visit my mother. I like Florida."

"So… is this a permanent thing?"

"Might be." I bit my lip.

"I don't want you to go to Florida." Justin raised an eyebrow and spoke powerfully, "I want you to stay with me."

"For how long?" I asked, getting to the root of the conversation.

"What?"

"How long do you want me to stay with you?"

"Forever," he said, clearly confused.

"Forever isn't an option, Justin. We don't have forever."

"You're sounding very morose today. What brought this on?" He leaned back in his seat.

"The fact that I just shot someone. It occurred to me this morning while men were tearing apart our house that you could be gone at any second. Or me for that matter." I stopped myself from rambling.

"What are you talking about?"

"Justin, I'm not going back with you. What do I have back in Chicago?"

"A life… with me." He squinted, almost angrily.

"A life as your girlfriend," I stated. "I've followed you down here and I said I would stay. I did, but now what? We're going back in the same position that we were in. Nothing's changed. Give me one good reason why I should go back with you." I realized that I sounded like a bitch right now, but this was long overdue.

Thank you, Alec!

Justin wasn't stupid. It didn't take him long to fill in the gaps of things that I couldn't say.

"Are you trapping me?" he asked, his voice going up an octave in semi-shock and disgust. "You are, aren't you?"

"It's an ultimatum," I put it in better terms. "I won't go back to Chicago with you unless you have some sort of promise for me. I can't be your girlfriend until we die."

"After all we've been through, you're tapping me into marrying you? You won't go back to Chicago unless we get married?" Fire was in his eyes, but I didn't back down.

"I shouldn't have to trap youas you so eloquently put it. I've been waiting for you to take some kind of step in regards to our future."

"You want a piece of paper to define our relationship?"

"Yes," I said shortly, "I want that piece of paper."

"You are going about this all wrong," He snapped his jaw shut.

"What would you want me to do, Justin? I have no hope of a future back there. Why should I go back?"

"Never once have you brought this up to me. You never even told me that marriage was on your mind."

I admit; that was my fault. I just assumed that maybe we would end up there one day. I figured he was on the same path, but I was obviously wrong. Would I even go through with this plan if Justin called my bluff? I couldn't let myself think that far.

I spoke more calmly. "I just realize now that we can't stay on this island for the rest of our lives and I don't want to go back with nothing to show for these past two years. You and I know both know that things won't be so carefree in Chicago as they are here."

Justin didn't have any way of denying that.

"I love you and I want to be your wife," I said clearly. "I'm sorry if that's not what you want, but I'm not going to waste time with you anymore if there's no future."

I was actually surprised by my boldness. I had never spoken to Justin this way or made my intentions known.

"So you think that all this time has been a waste?" He swallowed the large lump is his throat.

"That's not what I said,"

"Yes, it is." He dug through his desk. He muttered under his breath for a minute before slamming a drawer shut.

Justin turned something over in his hands a couple of times before looking at me with his green eyes that that I loved so much. He lightly placed a small velvet box on the top of the desk and then slid it towards me before getting up from his chair.

"All you had to do was wait, Selena."

He exited the room quickly, leaving me alone and deflated.

Even without opening the box, I knew what was in it. It was screaming at me, making sure my stupidity would never be forgotten. I didn't regret what I said to Justin; it needed to be said. Did I wish I had went about it a different way? Yes.

I had to stop my hand from shaking as I reached for the box and opened it.

The square diamond was rather large, but the rest of the ring was simple and understated. The band, which was made of a shiny and cold piece of beautiful silver, was dotted with smaller diamonds that sparkled even thought there was barely any light in the room.

My heart was thundering as I picked the ring up and examined it. How long had he had this? Why wouldn't he give it to me?

I put the ring back in the box and took it with me as I searched for Justin. Alec was cleaning up the rubble downstairs and without lifting his head said, "He's at the bar."

I went to the other side of the house where Justin kept his liquor stash. He had a whole room for it and there was such a wide variety from almost every country I could think of. It was left untouched by the invaders who had attacked in the early morning hours. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Justin had his back turned to me as he poured a tawny colored liquid into a glass. The ice cubes clinked together as the liquor filled the cup. He took a long draw, but still didn't acknowledge my arrival.

I walked quietly, barely making any noise as I stepped closer to him.

"I bought that for you on your last birthday. I didn't know when I was going to give it to you, but I had it." He exhaled.

"It's beautiful,"

"I won't tell you how much it cost."

"Why didn't you ever mention this?"

"I was scared," He admitted. That was something completely out of character for Justin. I had only heard those words come out of his mouth maybe one other time.

"About?" I stepped in front of him, in between his body and the bar, "Tell me."

"I know one successful marriage and that's my parents, but even they have had their problems. It's not easy keeping it together in their world, but they've done it. I'm not as mature as Carlisle. I wouldn't be able to give you a life like that."

Justin's head was down , but I lifted it up so I could see him, "Do you want to marry me?"

"Yes, I would like to try, but I can't do that to you. You're settling for me."

"I'm settling?"

"You need a normal guy. Once we return to Chicago, you and I both know that I'm going to get sucked into the old life. Go back to Forks. Find someone better." He took the ring from my hands and put it in his pocket.

The one thing about Justin was that he was good with words. Emotions, not so much, but he could verbally tell me anything. He must seriously think that I would go down without a fight. Justin's pride was everything to him and I had just broken that.

"If I attempt to marry you, it wouldn't be something perfect, which I know is what you want and need." He said regretfully.

"Since when has anything about us ever been perfect?"

"That's true, but can you see me as a conventional husband? I can't."

"Is it any different from what we have now? You would make a great husband…for me. For some other woman, maybe not, but I'm not worried about anyone else."

He thought for a second, "No, I guess not. I'm just so uncertain. Things will crumble if we take that next step."

"I'm not saying we get married next week or even in the next couple of months, but…I want that promise. I want to know that it's on your mind."

"It has been since we got here," Justin's voice was so full of assurance that it made me shudder, "We were going to have a child together, Selena and I told you that things like marriage and babies weren't necessarily my style, but with you…it seems like a better option. I do love you."

I couldn't' stop the corners of my mouth from lifting up into a smile, "That's sweet," I said, not being able to match anything he just uttered.

"I will give you anything you want," His arms trapped me against the bar, "I do want to marry you one day. I'm not just saying that so you'll come back with me. It's the truth."

"So, we're going to do this?" I asked hopefully, raising my eyebrows.

"Yes," An undistinguishable grin spread across his face. It was one I had never seen before and I didn't know what it meant, "Would you like to be Isabella Bieber?"

That caught me slightly off guard, hearing it like that, "I would like that very much."

"Good," He kissed me, his lips hot and filled with that promise which I begged for. We he finally let me go, I was out of breath and dizzy.

"I guess we'll talk about it more when we get back home?" I asked, guessing that the family needed to be taken care of first.

"Home?"

"Our home, in Chicago."

"That's what I wanted to hear. I'm not even going to ask if you would really think about leaving me. I don't want to know."

"Then I'll never tell you," I wrapped my arms around his neck, "It's just nice to have a proposal."

"I hope you don't think that was a proposal. I might be a bastard with an anger problem, but I at least know how to be romantic sometimes." He scoffed.

"I'll be waiting with bated breath," I pecked his neck.

This was how our arguments usually went. We fight and yell at each other, but after a couple minutes to calm down, it's as if nothing had happened. We were still the same Justin and Selena who loved each other beyond a doubt.

"Are you ready to go home?" He asked me.

"No," I said truthfully, "I would rather stay here. We're safe here."

"Not anymore,"

Neither Alec, Justin, or I slept much that night. We sat on the beach with a fire raging, and small pieces of beef that Justin cooked for us to eat. I felt like maybe we should be talking about the future more, but as of now we were just watching the waves. It was our last night in paradise, our last night of freedom.

I laid on Justin's chest the entire night, listening to the sounds around me mainly, his heart, and his breathing.

By the time the sun came up, we were all filled with anticipation, anxiousness, nervousness, and a little fear on my part. Justin and Alec would never show any sign of that though. They were both staying calm and strong for me.

As if we always knew this was our temporary home, we left the island without fanfare or sadness. It was almost like the numbness of the past twenty-four hours was setting in. We each had a bag of whatever we wanted to bring, but nothing was that important.

Alec drove the boat and the island got smaller as we traveled towards Rio.

Since the plane wasn't leaving until later tonight, we spent the entire day walking the city. We kept our heads down because Justin didn't trust anyone anymore. He said that our identities weren't safe. Someone knew he was alive and they knew where we were.

"What do you think Ma's going to say?" Alec asked as we all sat on a bench in the luscious green park in the middle of the city.

"She's going to kill us," Justin said, "We kept this from her for two years. She won't be happy and probably won't ever forgive us. Especially not Carlisle."

If I was in her situation, I would be the same way.

"I hope he told her something," I sighed, feeling horrible for Esme.

"And what about Grandpa? How do you think everyone's handling that?" Alec rested his elbows on his knees.

"I guess we'll find out in about fourteen hours." Justin's speech was like it used to be. Cold. Calculating. Suspicious. Deadly.

We continued to sit in relative silence for the rest of the day.

The sun set around us as the private plane took off from the tarmac. By the time we were in the air, Alec had fallen asleep and Justin was reading some files that were overflowing with papers. I didn't know what they said, but he had on his 'serious, don't bother me, work', black rimmed glasses. I rested my head on his shoulder and fell asleep within a couple of seconds.

I woke up a couple hours later in complete darkness. Justin and Alec were talking in hushed voices, but I knew by now to ignore their words until they decided to inform me. It would do no good to snoop. I went back to sleep.

Again, a couple of hours later, I woke up and the sky was still outside. I never really realized how long this plane ride was going to take, but I was starting to get more apprehensive with each passing minute. Was this a good idea? I didn't have the answer to that just yet.

I noticed that Alec and Justin had changed out of the clothes we came in so I did the same, dressing in jeans and a light jacket. I had never been to Italy. Hell, I had barely ever been out of the United States, so I didn't know if it was cold or not in Rome.

Justin was still sitting next to me with his glasses on, his head deep in concentration. I pulled my legs up under me when I sat back down and turned towards him, "Have you called Carlisle?"

"No," He answered, "I wouldn't know what to say."

"What are you reading?"

"Our papers for later when we get back to the states. Getting into Italy won't be hard, since I'm not a criminal there. By the time they run my passport, we'll be gone so it won't matter."

"How long does it take to run a passport?" I asked, worried that there must be some flaw in his plan. This just seemed too easy.

"My name will come up on the database as being someone that needs to be investigated, but I'm haven't committed a crime in Italy so it's not like they can arrest me. According to Carlisle, he's dealing with the rest. I guess I'll have to talk to him when we get there."

"How are you feeling about your grandfather?" I rested my head on the plush seat behind me.

"I'm not sure," He admitted, "It's so strange. He was one of those people you thought would never die, you know?"

I nodded, "He was a really strong man."

"I just need to know what happened, with everything. Why is this happening?"

"I don't know," I took his hand and entwined our fingers.

"Living back in Chicago is going to be so odd after all this."

"Do we have a house or somewhere to stay?" I asked.

"Don't worry about anything."

I never did when Justin was in charge. He always took care of everything.

"I need to call Charlie and Renee even though I have no idea what to say to them. I guess we're both in the same boat in dealing with our parents."

"Will they be mad?"

"Renee will be at first, but she'll get over it quickly. Charlie will probably kill me and then come for you."

Justin chuckled for the first time in days, "That sounds fun."

"Are you going to be in the family business when we get back?" I said with false enthusiasm.

"Most definitely. It's not even an option at this point. Carlisle called me back for a reason. Mob life is something you can't ever get away from."

"Wonderful," I rolled my eyes.

"You sound apprehensive."

"I'm fine with it. I just hope you can handle everything."

"I'm a professional. I never lose my touch."

"Then I'll get on board."

"When we get back to Chicago, I want you to get a job." Justin said out of the blue.

"A job?"

"Yes. I don't want you to waste away at home while I'm working with whatever the hell Carlisle has up his sleeve. You have a degree, use it and not at some bar. A real job."

"That was the plan,"

"Good. You can't sit at home and worry about me all day."

"I'll always worry about you, but a job would help keep my mind occupied and busy."

It wasn't like we needed the money and any salary I had, Justin wouldn't accept it to pay for something. He was very adamant about taking care of me. After two years, I stopped fighting him. My paycheck from the bar always went to a charity. I would keep some for myself, but not much.

I guess it was time for me to grow up.

It took another couple of hours before my ears started popping and the plane began descending rapidly. My heart was in my throat and I braced myself for the landing, which came rougher than I remember. The plane slowed while taxing.

Justin and Alec seemed calm as usual, not a breath out of place or eye movement that showed a slight sign of worry. I tried to mimic them, but it wasn't working. I'm sure I ended up looking constipated.

The plane stopped completely on the soil of a new country. Everything was different; the sun, the sky, the clouds, the city. I could see the red brick roofs of Rome in the distance and the beautiful slopping hills of the Italian countryside in the opposite direction.

Alec tapped on the window and waved, "Look who it is."

Carlisle was standing at the entrance to the runway, leaning against a black car with sunglasses on. He looked so professional—just like I remembered him— in his suit and the stern, but warm smile. He nodded cautiously when he saw Alec wave.

I think he was testing our reactions to each other. I definitely had a few things to say to Carlisle, but right now I was just happy to see a familiar face. We would deal with everything later after the funeral. He was probably upset about losing his grandfather. I didn't want to trouble him further. We would have plenty of time for accusations and finger pointing after all this was over.

Before we could exit the plane, a customs official came on to search the interior. Since we were coming from Brazil the man claimed that he needed backup to help look for drugs.

He spoke Italian quickly into a headset, After spending so much time with Justin over the years, I had picked up the language pretty expertly. Justin, Alec, and I would talk in Italian frequently in Brazil so that we didn't have to lower our voices in the city. Not surprisingly, I understood everything that the official said and he was a hardnosed newbie who was trying to do a thorough job. He didn't trust Justin just by looking at him.

We had to spend an extra hour on the plane while it was searched.

Justin handed him fake passports, which I didn't even know he had and I tried not to look at the man while he examined them. I had a good poker face, but I still think people could tell when I was lying. I had been working on that though.

Finally, we were let off of the plane.

Alec practically ran towards Carlisle and they were both smiling like Christmas morning as they embraced each other. The separation was now over. Justin took my hand quickly as we walked towards Carlisle who was occupied in examining his son.

"I see Selena's been feeding you well." Carlisle held Alec at arm's length, inspecting him.

"Yeah, but I work out like crazy. Justin makes me."

"Good," Carlisle nodded and then lifted his head towards me, "Beautiful as ever."

"Hi, Sir." I let go of Justin's hand as he pulled me towards him. His arms were strong around my shoulders and I felt some of the anger from the past melting off of me, "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," I said truthfully. We had another couple of seconds in contact and I could almost hear his apologies, but not one confession came out of his mouth.

"I can't believe you're really here." He laughed heartily, "It's been too long. I'm glad you came back. We needed you." "

"I know." I looked him up and down, "You look good."

"Why thank you," He held out his arms, "I've tried to keep myself up with the young kids."

He really did look the same. Nothing was out of place from his perfectly sculpted, clean shaven face to his golden hair. There wasn't a wrinkle on his skin, or any signs of aging in his crystal blue eyes.

"I know we need to talk later," He whispered to me, "But I'm really glad you decided to come."

"I am too. I'm not going anywhere."

He let go of me and looked up at his other son, "Hello, Justin."

"Carlisle," Justin replied, coldly.

The tension crept on us like an invisible fog and the happy celebration became awkward. I went back to Justin's side and took his hand. By the position of his body and tone of his voice, I could tell he was trying not to let loose his anger.

"The tan is new," Carlisle stated as if it wasn't obvious, "You look healthy."

Justin opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. He rolled his eyes, and pulled me towards the limo, which Carlisle was leaning on before. He opened the door and all but pushed me in. Alec and Carlisle followed a second later. The car pulled away from the airport and the beautiful city of Rome started to pass us by.

"So, the funeral is tomorrow morning and we'll be staying at a hotel in the city until we drive out to the country." Carlisle said, mostly to Alec since Justin was ignoring him.

"What happened to Grandpa? He wasn't supposed to die for like…another fifty years." Alec said. I think he really believe it was possible for Nicola to live that long.

"He went out fighting, that's for sure. Like with the rest of us, those guys came and tried to storm the house. I've been out there. About half of it is burned to the ground. It's being restored as we speak, but there was a lot of damage."

"What the hell did they want with him?" Alec was now angry.

"I don't know. They sound like the same ones who got you on the island. They were just given instructions and carried them out. I'm working on it now."

"They want us all dead," Justin muttered.

"I think Nicola killed about half of them before he just couldn't hold out any longer." Carlisle chuckled.

"Wow," I said in awe. He sure was a fighter.

"Justin, you and Selena probably won't want to meet Esme today. She knows Alec's here, but that's it."

"You haven't told her anything in two years?" I asked.

He exhaled heavily and shook his head, "It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do and I'm glad it'll finally be over."

"She's going to cut your balls off," Justin commented, looking out of the window.

"I know. All of us for that matter."

"Um, so how is Justin getting back into the country?" Alec asked, trying to diffuse the stiffness in the car.

Carlisle sat up straighter, "Well, in case you didn't know, faking your own death is a crime. The statute of limitations on all the other charges ran out after they couldn't find you after the first year. It wasn't like they could bring you to court so they had to drop them."

"Convenient," I sighed in relief, thankful that Justin wasn't being sought out by the law.

"Unfortunately, like I said, faking your death was illegal, but I've found a way around it."

"Which is?" Alec asked, confused by the turn of events.

"I've been working with a judge for a week to get Justin back without it being an issue. I convinced him that Justin was acting under self-defense. According to the law, a person can do whatever he needs to do to protect himself. It was a stretch, but it worked. Justin was being hunted by Aro who was certainly going to kill him. We had to do what needed to be done."

Like almost everything in the world of crime, that theory sounded entirely too farfetched, but completely solid. I don't know how he did it, but Carlisle could sell the sky to God. Everything that came out of his mouth sounded so genuinely truthful, that you had to believe him.

"Will that work?" Justin asked, only half sounding like he cared.

"Yes," Carlisle said with conviction, "It will work because I've set up your arrival home without a hitch. No one knows, especially your mother or Aro, but I think it will make social news when Justin Bieber lands back in Chicago."

"When can we see them?" I asked, my voice only a whisper.

"The family is kind of sad right now. I think we should wait until after the funeral. We're all at the same hotel, you and Justin are just going to be a floor above us. Tomorrow, we'll start getting everyone reintroduced, I guess." For the first time, Carlisle looked apprehensive about the future.

"Joy," Justin banged his head on the seat behind him.

I was never much of a religious person, but as the house and buildings of Rome blurred by us, I sent up a silent prayer not only for mercy, but for luck as well.

This was going to be one hell of a funeral.

[ruginite]

☁

SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR… Status: Acceptin’ 

☁  five times my muse has thought about yours, and the one time they do something about it.

          [ I can’t count the times I almost said what’s on my mind   ]

1 -

It’s cold. The streets alive and windows warm with lights and passing shadows. The thrum of time square can be felt even from here. From where he stands, leaned to at the mouth of the alley across the street from their apartment. A perfect view of the party going on indoors. Where its warm and probably loud with laughing and music jacked up to high.

It makes him smile, despite the cold and the snow starting to fall again on the already covered concrete jungle. He won’t go in. Won’t make his presence known. Mostly…because he’s just too tired. He hadn’t lied when he said he’d had to work. He didn’t think he’d be back this soon. Shy two hours too midnight, and just under another after touch down. So he won’t go in. Dead on his feet as he is. He’d just wanted to stop by. Anonymously check in. Make sure that at least one of them were ringing in the new year like they should.

Because he worries. Always thinks on. Everything always comes back to Duck. And a sigh hangs in the frozen air before him, disrupted only when he moves to leave. Walking off down the sidewalk, with not but his foot prints to ever indicate he had been there at all.

2 -

It’s hot. Hot as the back side of jersey. Waves rising off the side walk outside. And though there’s fourteen fans, the ac blasting and shelter from the sunlight; it’s no damn different inside than it is out. Not with the bay doors open like they are; to keep the lot of them from dying from fume inhalation. Still it’s the cause of him working half blind on the engine he’s leaned over. But thank fuck for small favors because at this angle? He’s got one hell of a view of his surprise visitor.

What? Sue him. He’ll blame it on the heat later, when he’s feeling marginally guilty about it. But it’s also not entirely his fault or the weather’s. It’s Riley’s too. Nobody asked him to stand there, chatting it up with Vinnie while he waited for Bastian to finish up what he’s working on so they could go to lunch. Nobody asked him too look as good as he does in button ups and slacks. And definitely nobody for this heat wave to make all of that stick to skin in places that are straight up sin.

Something however slices flesh rather suddenly, and his attention is pulled back to where it should be. A curse grumbled into the inner working of the car and he’s yanking his hands out. Shuffling off to rinse out the cut and tape it up. Because that’s another thing no body asked for. Blood all over the merchandise.

3 -

Every single syllable out of her mouth grates on his ears, like nails on a chalk board. But he keeps his seat. Knocks back the rest of his whiskey and raps knuckles on the bar for another round. Gaze cast away from his glass, picking a spot that’s inconspicuous but still leaves what he covets in view. And maybe for minutes he lets himself pretend.

Tricks himself into thinking the polished wood under his finger tips is really silk. That the scent of whiskey isn’t coming from his own lips. The clink of his glass being set back before him is really liquor drowned nothings in his ear that he doesn’t even know what are. That he’s not quite so alone in his own space. 

There you go, Boss.

But it’s all shattered by the bartender. He gaze torn away, back to where it should have been the entire time. And fingers wrap around the drink. Knock it back in it’s entirety before standing up. Dropping cash on the bar to cover what he’s had. He’s not leaving he just needs a little air. That isn’t permeated with everyonething he shouldn’t want. And feet shuffle him out the door. Ignoring the inquires as to his destination as he goes.

4 -

Usually he’s more of a spectator every year. Finding a good spot to watch the parade. Taking in the feel of it. Of for once not being the only one. Not being the odd man out. Of being surrounded by people he has something in common with. Surrounded by people born different from the fucking status quo just like he had been. Call it immature, call it selfish, call it weak–but it helps. Helps remind him that at least in some ways somewhere there’s people of his particular shade.

Riley enjoys it more than Bastian thought he would. Being the social butterfly the fucker is. Making event long buddies with the people around them. Something Bastian had never bothered to do. Because while being here made him feel part of something, control and habit had always kept him still inside his own little box. But Riley didn’t have that problem. And soon enough he finds himself in a crowded bar. Glitter and confetti in places he didn’t even know he had. Quietly convening with the group Riley’s attracted.

But for all the beauty around him, he’s blind to it. Though perhaps their new found company isn’t blind to him. And there’s a friendly little nudge, a knowing sort of nod; from the tiny woman on his right. And even Bastian knows what she’s implying. So much so that his ears turn red, that flickering embarrassed sort of smile coming and going from his face. Before he’s leaning in just close enough to respond at a volume only she can hear.

           “Friend zone.”

And honestly? He doesn’t really mind the subsequent pat she gives his hand; or the extra shot she buys him because apparently? She knows exactly how he feels.

5 -

Two a.m. and he’s jolting awake. Covered in sweat and lungs heaving. A groan because every nerve ending is just as on fire as it had been in the fantasy he’d been all been truly wound within. And feet kick away covers, find the floor as he sits up. Rough hands rubbing at his face, as he gets up. Shuffles to the bath room. Pisses out the rest of last night’s drunken stupor and moves out into the hallway. Down the back stairs and into the kitchen. Because his mouth tastes like the bottom of a whiskey barrel but as dry as a cotton mill. 

The fridge door is hauled open, a bottle of water pulled from, cracked open and sucked down. And for moments he just stands there. Leaned against the kichen island. Letting the images play back in his mind. Echoed by logical thinking that he’s got to let this fixation go. That it’s never going to happen. That he should just get the hell out of dodge for a while. Let this cool off, grow cold, and come back when the bridge has rotted. Because it would be better for everyone else in the long run. 

A sigh, that drags everything down; before he’s shuffling to the trash can to throw the bottle away. Though he stops mid step when a sound carries from the living room. Brows knitting and the bottle becoming something else entirely. Something that hit much harder than thin plastic. And he’s moving from tile to carpet. Bare feet silent as the dead. At least until…

God damn it, Duck.

The small bat is set on the coffee table, gently. The ice pack that had fallen to the floor (the apparent source of the noise) picked up and set aside as well. And he just stands there for a minute or two doesn’t he? Watching the asshole sleep. But soon enough he’s moving again. Pulling the blanket off his dad’s old chair, shaking it out, and easy does it–covers up his best friend. Shiner, bruised knuckles and all. He won’t ask in the morning, he never does. But that doesn’t stop his fingers from almost grazing the black and blue ring around Riley’s eye. Fingers that retract a hair before it would be too late. And feet will him to turn and climb the stairs again.

Back to his bed. Alone. Like what’s best for everyone.

6 - 

Once upon a time…it had been his favorite time of year. Back before his life had gone shit everything wrong. And honestly it’s been years since he’s seen a Christmas tree. That wasn’t in a store window. That was decorated by hand and maybe not at all uniform and color coded. And even for as awkward as he feels surrounded by all the things, he’s avoided since his mom died—there’s a warmth too it he can’t deny he’s missed.

Music isn’t bad either. Classic stuff mixed in with modern. And maybe he catches himself more than once humming along. Always too quiet for anyone but him to hear; from where he spent most of the night. Tucked by the window. People watching. And more or less being okay with it. It’s his friend’s lot, not his. Not that Bastian really has a lot. At least not one that’s much bigger than three people.

But even Christmas parties wind down. As maybe a little too soon, the last of the other guests are shuffling out the door. With himself still in the same spot he’s been haunting all night. A quiet good night that’s answered just a little louder by him. Before they’re all that’s left in the starkingly empty space. And he’s moving to help pick up a little. Throw away stray plates and cups. And it’s somewhere between clearing the coffee table and snagging a fork from the mantle that his attention is drawn elsewhere.

                 How about a drink? Saved the good stuff for us.

Honestly he probably looks a little funny. Standing there stiff as a snowman. Trash bag in one hand, the other hovering in the air above the fork. But he hadn’t exactly been prepared for the image. The image that was Riley standing there in the kitchen door way. A bottle of 30 year whiskey in one hand, and two glasses in the other. And over top his head? Jesus Christ’s balls but the universe just wasn’t damn fair. 

And there’s a war going on in his head. One screaming to say yes, the other to do something entirely different, and one more telling him to bolt for the damn door and not come back until he’d scrubbed the image from his memory. But there’s no scrubbing this away. It’s there now. Embedded with every other time, the universe had decided to place Riley in just the right place to taunt and tempt him into doing something foolish. 

But where every other time logic had won…maybe he’s had one to many tonight, to compensate for the crowd. Or so that’s what he’ll blame it on later. Because before he can really tell what he’s doing; he’s moving. The bag abandoned and the fork forgotten about. And where his feet should have stopped him they don’t. Where hands should have gone for the glasses they wind fingers into Riley’s shirt. Drag him down and into a kiss that shouldn’t be happening, if propriety were a thing right then. But it’s not. And Bastian holds it for heart beats before the need for air becomes a reality and he lets go.

Gaze tracking upward above Riley’s head, as he clears his throat and steps back. Hands driving into his pockets and blue finding the depths of the rug beneath his feet. His ears as red as the garland hanging around the door frame. Questions, cursing…something will come eventually, because Riley doesn’t know how not to talk but what else was Bastian supposed to do?

Andy had parked himself right underneath the spot Bastian had noticed he’d avoided all night. And he can only hope that somewhere if this all goes sides ways, that the little bits of green hanging precariously from the door frame can some how find away to dig him out of the grave he’s probably dug for himself. Because if not? 

                   Worst.Christmas.Yet.