Caramel sat in her study at Astor Faith the next morning, enjoying the view of the clear blue sky, unimpeded by the presence of twenty-storey buildings or skyscrapers that would normally be present in the skyline of downtown Los Angeles. She had propped her feet up on her desk while leaning back in her chair, staring up at the plain ceiling, letting her gaze drift back and forth.

She was daydreaming.

Apparently, being grounded meant not taking off her red-diamond earring, which meant Richford would know where she was 24/7. Her father was now conducting business somewhere nearby, and had left after breakfast that morning, where she assured him her virginity was in no danger.

Caramel snorted. Why did he care? It wasn't as if she was going to sell it to the highest bidder or something—she had plenty of money to burn. She had already busted a few thousand to build a compound for the monkeys—they were adorable and sickeningly entertaining, but there was no way she would allow them to keep wandering around anymore—just on the edge of the compound. Another half a million had been shelled out to have two central greenhouses built—one for fruits and herbs, and another for vegetables.

She felt a tap on her knee, and stared down at the monkey nearby, who was blinking up at her with its doe-black eyes.

"No." She said. This particular monkey had been following her about all day, wanting her to open the fridge to give him more fruit. It was adorable, but annoying. She had deduced from the cameras and personal experience that there were five monkeys in total—one grandpa, a couple, and two young ones as a result—and they were all sickeningly mischievous and light-fingered.

The monkey tugged insistently on the hem of her pants, and Caramel glared at it. It whined and pouted before leaping away out of the window to tell it's sister that there would be no dessert. Sighing, Caramel turned back to her laptop and opened a few tabs to check on her bank accounts.

She blinked, and then grappled for a calculator. She knew she had spent nearly five million in this month alone. So why….

She frowned down at the answer her calculator offered and re-calculated. The answer was the same. Why was there so much money in her bank account?

Then, her phone rang.

"Hello, Caramel Hall speaking."

"Caramel." Zain's voice. "You lied to me."

"About what?" Caramel asked, blinking.

"About being in a relationship with that GoldenHawk boy."

"We are not in a relationship." Caramel said, feeling as if she should be saying that instead of 'Hello' for every time someone called or greeted her.

"The magazine says otherwise."

"We are not together. I have no interest in being in a relationship with anybody. Are you going to tell me why you called or what?" Caramel snapped.

"….Really? You do not love him?" Zain asked dubiously.

"No, I don't." Caramel grumbled.

"Ok then." His voice became much warmer now. "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"The bad news first." Caramel said, sighing.

"There's a problem with the underwater chamber."

"Are you joking?" Caramel growled. She did not need this right now—trying to manage that piece of land right now was one of her biggest dilemmas, along with the Luminescence project—they still could not find a perfumer willing to work for them under a five-year contract for the money and benefits she was offering.

"No, I'm not. However, I will explain it with the good news." Zain chuckled. "We were extracting the water, and testing it periodically. We obtained a strange reaction, so we ran a few more different tests. It seems that the underwater chamber is filled with water because it is actually sitting on top of a rock formation, which is why it has not seeped deeper into the ground."

"Wonderful." Caramel grumbled.

"We found something under the rock formation." Zain said.

"What? Diamonds?" Caramel larked sarcastically.

"Actually, no. It's better than diamonds." Zain laughed. "We found natural gas."

"So what's the problem?" Caramel asked, not realizing what that meant.

"It means, we can pay you tens of millions a month for rights to extract the water, and then we can pay you hundreds of millions for rights to extract the natural gas. But we can only do one at a time for now, because we have to ship over the equipment, and that takes a lot of time and logistical planning."

Oh great. Wonderful. Brilliant.

"It's your choice which one you want us to extract—we did have a contract."

"Give me a moment." Caramel sighed and picked up her other phone, which had been ringing as well.

"What?"

"Miss Hall, this is Heather. I'm calling to ask you about the model castings for the photo shoot—when are you free to make it?"

"How long will it take?"

"It depends on how many people audition—I suppose about three days?"

"Three days?" Caramel sputtered.

"Um, yeah. We have to pick and interview both the women and men, and then send them to the dermatologist to check their skin, and take measurements and some other stuff."

"Well, shit." Caramel said, and then pulled up her schedule on her laptop. "Schedule me for Thursday to Saturday. That should be enough time."

"Wonderful." Heather put down the phone, and Caramel turned back to talk to Zain.

"What are the rates?"

They talked and squabbled for nearly two hours over the phone, until they finally reached a compromise. Caramel was exhausted and starving by that time, so she made her way down to the kitchen to make lunch, only for her phone to start ringing again.

It was four in the afternoon.

"Oh my god! Mel!" It was Elizabeth. "I got into Junior College! And uh, your first love, that Rayren dude? He's looking everywhere for you."

Food would have to wait…

CARAMELHALL

Caramel stumbled home at six in the evening, thoroughly exhausted. She blinked at the sight of her mother—she had not seen Agnes for what felt like weeks. The pregnant woman was apparently just home from a shopping trip, judging by the multitude of bags the maids were carrying towards the master bedroom.

"Where have you been? It's six! You should have been home at two!" Agnes barked.

"I was working."

"Working? Don't lie to me, all you ever do is laze around!"

"I was really working." Caramel growled, annoyed. She had hoped to actually just get someone to make dinner for her and then go to sleep, but it was not to be.

"And what work are you doing? Cleaning toilets at a mall?" Agnes laughed. Caramel did not know what was so funny.

"No, I'm…." She wouldn't believe her. "Nothing. I was talking with a friend." She grumbled, and turned to leave.

"Don't turn your back on me, young lady! I'm not done talking to you!"

"Go fuck yourself!" Caramel called out, storming up to her room. Agnes was too pregnant to climb up the stairs, so she screamed degrading comments and insults in increasing volume after Caramel's retreating back. Caramel could hear her mother even on the second floor, where she wrenched open the doors to her closet and flipped open two suitcases.

She should have done this as soon as she had bought Astor Faith.

It took a while, but she managed to stuff all her clothing into the suitcases easily. There wasn't a lot, to put it bluntly, since Caramel hated dressing up. It was still a lot more when compared to what she had half a year ago. Her shoes were stuffed unceremoniously into a bag haphazardly, and Caramel lugged everything down the stairs and stuffed it all into the boot of her Lamborghini. This car was her saving grace, to be sure.

She would have to thank Tristan the next time she saw him.

"Jonathan." Caramel blinked at the butler, who seemed to be getting used to what was now becoming a regular occurrence. "I'll be staying at Astor Faith for the next two weeks."

"Miss Hall, I don't like this." The butler said plainly.

"I have Heather to look after me." Caramel lied easily. All Heather was doing was doing Caramel's work for her at Luminescence, which allowed her imagination to run wild. She was paying a bunch of people to come once a week to keep the estate clean, and to maintain the golf course. And to stock her fridge with food and stuff she could eat.

"What if you're kidnapped again?" Jonathan demanded. "There won't be anyone to keep in contact with you."

"No one's going to kidnap me, Jonathan." Caramel laughed.

"You are a millionaire now, Caramel. You are 16, young, vulnerable, and foolish with the high of youth." Jonathan frowned at her, extremely unhappy with the situation.

"And I'm sick of my mother stepping all over me. I just need a break, Jonathan." Caramel ran a hand through her hair. They stared at each other mutely, until Richard, who had heard the entire thing, stepped out from behind a pillar.

"Take Natalie with you." Richard said, nodding to the maid who had been standing nearby.

Caramel sighed and ran a hand through her hair before shrugging.

"Fine." She grunted. "You can come tomorrow afternoon." Caramel stormed out towards the garage, her Lamborghini ripping out of the estate with a roar.

"They grow up so fast." Richard wondered.

"You are still young, sir." Jonathan said, arching his eyebrows.

"I am, aren't I?" Richard laughed, sipping his coffee. There was a calculating gleam in his eye, though. "Has Druitt Gregorovitch called?"

"No, sir."

"He'll call." Richard said confidently, smiling as he ambled back to his study-cum-office.

CARAMELHALL

The model casting for Luminescence's newest project would begin that afternoon. Caramel woke in the master bedroom of Astor Faith to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. The silence in the massive home was unsettling, but she soon became used to it. The room was dark, and almost four times as large as her bedroom back at the Veshkini estate.

The air was cold. Caramel let herself doze till it was almost ten in the morning before she crawled out of bed. By eleven, she was humming a soft tune under her breath as she cut up fruits for the monkeys and put it out on the patio, where they now liked to hang out once she made it clear to them they were no longer allowed in the home using a more complicated locking mechanism on the windows.

Caramel pressed the button on her phone for voicemail as she stepped out of the shower, her hair still dripping wet. She began rummaging for a set of clothing as she listened to the voicemail.

"Miss Hall, this is Jonathan. An offer has come in for the family to be interviewed by Forbes for their special issue on the wealthiest families in America. Master Richard has given his go-ahead, and this message is being sent out to all Villagold vessels even as we speak. Please call me back to inform me of your decision, on whether or not to accept the interview, by this week."

Beep.

"This is Heather speaking, Miss Hall. I was wondering if you would be fine with a light lunch today, since we only have a twenty minutes break in between the castings for the men and women. If you're too busy to reply, I'll just buy a Cold Cut Trio sandwich from Subway for you, with onions, tomatoes, and the uh, ranch sauce, as usual. Please leave a message for me if you want something else for lunch."

Beep.

"This is Jackie Johnson, Head editor of Celeb! magazine. Miss Caramel Hall, I would like to invite you for an interview with us to feature in an article for next month with Law GoldenHawk, your boyfriend. Please call back to me at this number at your convenience."

Beep.

"Hello? Is this thing working—Oh. Um, I'm Zacharias Peters, a member of the Judiciary Club of Dalton's. Bella Pierce, Judith Hughins, and Yolanda Preistly-Yates have approached us regarding your assault on them on Tuesday. I have been assigned to you as defendant—please contact me at your earliest convenience so that I may speak with you regarding this case ASAP."

Beep.

"Caramel? Where the hell did you go? This is Tristan—the Judiciary Club has submitted a request to the Student Council for the use of the courtroom. Those three girls you attacked are using the school's justice system to try and persecute you, and you'll be expelled if you don't reply to the Judiciary Club's message. They have equal authority to the Heads of Departments in school—so don't laugh this off! And where the hell did you run off to this time?"

Beep.

"Caramel, why aren't you picking up my calls? This is Rayren—I need to speak with you urgently. Please call me back. Please."

Beep.

"Caramel, this is Law! If you received a message from that Jackie chick at Celeb!, reject her offer. If you haven't, you will soon. Reject her offer! They're just a gossip rag—and I promised your father and Richard to keep this thing low-key. Just…just call me, okay? I really need to talk to you."

Beep.

"Hey, Mel? This is Elizabeth. I didn't tell you this yesterday, but uh….I'm going out with Rayren. I'm sorry! I should have mentioned it, but I didn't know how to tell you. But you don't like him anymore, right? You have Law anyway, haha! So, uh, call me or something."

Beep.

"Caramel, this is your father speaking." Pause. "I sound like Darth Vader. Anyway, this is Richford. I'll be returning to Shanghai on Saturday—will you have time to have dinner with me on Friday night? I want to talk to you about something. Call my secretary—you have my number."

Beep.

"This is Druitt Gregorovitch speaking. I am the father of Aliana Gregorovitch. My daughter had spoken very highly of you to me, and I would like to invite you for dinner as thanks for what you did this Sunday. You are permitted to bring a guardian if you feel hesitant about coming alone. You may call my secretary at this number for more details."

Beep.

"Mel, this is Fiona speaking. We really need to talk, so please call me. Like, now. When you get this message."

Beep.

"This is Zain. I need you to call me ASAP to finalize the details of our deal by this month—the sooner the better. I'll be waiting for your call."

Beep. Beep, beep.

"This is the end of your recorded messages."

Caramel sighed and glanced at the notepad, where she had scribbled down everything she needed to do, and the people she needed to call. She had only managed to put on her underwear during the entire time. She shimmied into a black dress with an empire waist, trimmed with white silk ribbon and lace. After pulling her dark hair into a taut ponytail before putting on lip balm and clipping on bright orange feathery earrings, she tried to shove her feet into orange peep-toes without the aid of her hands.

It didn't work. Caramel decided she didn't have time to make breakfast for herself and stepped out of the door, only to find Natalie about to knock on said door.

"Put your luggage inside. You'll help me with something today." Caramel said hurriedly, glancing at her watch. The maid complied hurriedly, looking surprised. Caramel shooed her into the seat of the Lambo before sliding in and rapidly making her way towards Luminescence's Head Office.

"You'll be my personal assistant today. Can you handle that?" Caramel asked, adjusting the rearview mirror as she turned sharply down a corner. Natalie nodded rapidly, eyes wide.

"Excellent." Caramel was silent, and then slid to a stop in front of the local Starbucks. She pulled out whatever bills she could find in a compartment and pressed it in Natalie's hands. "Buy me a green tea frappucino, venti, with whipped cream. After that, bring it to me at the top floor of the Luminescence building. Tell Heather that I was the one who sent you."

"O-Okay." Natalie gulped, and bounded out of the car. Caramel swerved into the carpark and glanced at her watch. She only had half an hour till it was noon—enough time to take care of the multitude of calls she had to make, hopefully. She nodded sharply at Heather's greeting—there were only a few people in the office now. Caramel had decided to inject money into the company to encourage working from home—the office space left empty was converted into a lab for experimenting with perfumes. There was actually no money lost after the shift, and the employees were pretty happy about it.

"Prepare all the resumes of the models and have it ready by noon. Call a meeting ten minutes before the casting for a talk. And there'll be someone called Natalie coming in soon—just let her in." Caramel breezed into her office and flung her bag carelessly onto the table before turning on the laptop there.

The phone was ringing within moments.

"Yes, Mildred, I know." Caramel growled—it was the head of the experimental science again. That woman was sickeningly anal about permissions and details, and Caramel had to deal with her on a daily basis. Without a doubt, Mildred was the first person to call her on the phone every damn time she was in the office.

When she had convinced Mildred that she really didn't give a shit what kind of chemical they used to make some shade or the other of lipstick creamier, it was already half past twelve. Caramel picked up the phone and immediately dialed the number to arrange dinner with her father tomorrow night.

After that, she had to call everyone else who had contacted her and argue with him or her over annoying details. By the time it was one, she was extremely annoyed and pissed off. Natalie had only arrived at one, and by that time, it was time for the meeting. There would only four people present at the casting—Caramel, Heather, the Head of HR, and the Head of Advertising.

"Right, I just want to reiterate what I want from this casting." Caramel said when they were all gathered in the room. "Three girls, and three guys. One African-American, one Asian, and one classic girl/boy-next door American." Caramel took a noisy sip of her green tea. "Don't hesitate to tell me what you think. We'll be using the models for both photoshoots and fashion shows, so they must be versatile."

"When do we get a break?" The Head of HR asked.

"When I say we get a break." Caramel snorted and made her way to the room they had decided for the casting to take place in.

There was a surprising number of models, and they had managed to decide on three that afternoon. The next day welcomed more models, and they had picked out five models by then—save for the female American. Too many of them looked the same—none of them stood out at all.

Caramel sighed as she worried her lip with her teeth, looking over the pictures.

"I'll look into it. Maybe get someone fresh. Until then, work with the five we've chosen." Caramel then left for dinner with Richford at his Beverly Hills home. Her lips quirked up wryly when she stepped out of the car. The windows she had broken had been fixed, and the bullet holes in the walls had been covered up.

The last time she had been here, she had been a captive. Now, she was a guest. It was an odd feeling. Caramel walked into the oddly silent house and found the usually stern businessman in the kitchen, wearing a dark red apron above a polo shirt and slacks. He was frowning down at a pot and stirring it slowly.

"Richford?" Caramel asked, awed.

"You're early. Sit down—I'm making spaghetti." Caramel sat, her eyes wide with surprise.

"How was your day?" Richford asked when he finally placed a plate of the spaghetti down in front of her, her stomach growling.

"Rayren called me." Caramel said. Richford stiffened for a brief moment—had Rayren found out Caramel was his niece?—and then relaxed when Caramel said—

"He wants to talk to you before you go over to Singapore to officially take over the Bamboo Grove Resorts."

"So he told you." Richford chuckled. "He's using you to get to me—you know that, don't you?"

"I…yeah, I do know." Caramel pushed her spaghetti around moodily. "But he's taken my best friend as a hostage. Her heart, anyway."

"Aha." Richford said softly. "The catch, I see."

"Yeah." Caramel shrugged and sat back in her chair. "I don't want to give up a friend for the sake of money, or luxury. I don't want to lose them anymore."

Richford put down his fork and stared at his daughter. He sighed when he realized she wasn't eating.

"Caramel, you must understand…." He crossed his arms and bent his head, speaking quietly. "The ones with the riches do not give up anything—it is the people around them who give them up for the sake of someone else's money."

"It's a curse." Caramel mumbled, and father and daughter sat there, both wondering if what they had decided to do was the right thing, or the easy thing.

CARAMELHALL

Saturday afternoon witnessed Caramel in her office at Luminescence. She was talking on the phone with Jackie Johnson of Celeb! magazine, that gossip rag who had printed the picture of her and Law hugging.

The amount of hate-mail she was receiving was staggering—did people have nothing else to do?

"Ah. Miss Hall. I was wondering when you would call—when would you like for the interview to take place?"

"I'm calling because I don't want to do the interview. Let me make it clear to you, Miss Johnson. I am not in a committed relationship with Law."

"You call him Law? My, that's so sweet."

Caramel did not bother replying. She slammed the phone back into the cradle before moving on with something more productive. But first…

"Melanie speaking."

"I need to talk to Law." Caramel said curtly.

"Who is this?"

"Caramel."

"Law's busy." Melanie said coolly.

"He was the one who told me to call. If he's not going to pick up, I'm not going to bother anymore." Caramel grumbled.

"You've caused quite enough trouble for us now, you little brat. Law will gladly not take your call." Melanie put down the phone. Caramel would have throttled the woman if she were there right then. Fuming, Caramel slammed the phone back into the cradle again—it really did not deserve it, to be honest…

Well, good riddance, Law GoldenHawk!

Caramel was about to pick up her phone again when there was a knock on the door.

"Miss Hall, Aliana Gregorovitch is here."

"Bring her in." Caramel called out, standing up to welcome Aliana. There was a reason she had called the tall Russian here.

"Caramel!' Aliana beamed, her personal bodyguard and translator trailing after her in kitten heels and a stern expression. The two girls embraced briefly before Caramel ushered the both of them into a chair—the bodyguard, Anna, refused.

"Aliana, are you interested in becoming a model?" Caramel didn't beat around the bush—that was a waste of time.

"I have never thought about it." Aliana said, looking quite surprised as she spoke to her translator in smooth Russian, who regurgitated everything she said into English for Caramel.

"Are you interested? Will your father allow it?"

"I will ask him." Aliana smiled at her friend.

"That's more than enough for me, then. Beauty must be shared, after all." Caramel chuckled when the Russian flushed a pretty pink, her foul mood curling up into a little ball to stew in a corner of her mind. No matter how unhappy she was, there was no reason to take it out on someone else.

"Shall we go for lunch now? There's a great burger place down the street."

"Burger!" Aliana beamed, and Caramel knew right then it hadn't been a mistake to use that fire extinguisher.

CARAMELHALL

Caramel sat in her boudoir—which literally meant 'sulking room' during the 18th century in France—that evening. It was a circular room on the roof with glass walls with a similarly circular roof that looked up into the night sky. It could only be accessed using a special spiral staircase that could only be lowered from within the room or using a special key only Caramel had.

The floor of the room was carpeted in cream-colored rugs and carpets from Persia, and lamps placed about the room with lace lampshades cast intricate shadows everywhere. Caramel had made a nest of sorts here—she had brought countless blankets and pillows here and strewn them everywhere. When she lay back, it felt as if she were lying on a cloud, and drifting under the boundless sky.

She felt free.

And then the phone she had convinced herself to carry up in there rang. Caramel glanced at the phone, annoyed—it was an old style phone, with a heavy wood and gold handle with a carved fleur-de-lis on it's body. It still worked well though.

Caramel plucked the receiver off the handle and held it up to her ear, eyes closed.

"Who is this?" She mumbled tiredly into it.

"It's Fiona."

Caramel jerked awake, feeling betrayal twist her heart. She closed her eyes and breathed out tiredly. Living felt like a chore, for goodness' sake.

"You have one minute to explain yourself." Caramel finally decided.

"I…..I thought it wouldn't matter. I thought we promised money won't be an issue between us! And I just….I just want to be friends with you again. Please, Caramel, I won't do anything like that again! I know you've already forgiven me, you know you've already forgiven me, so….please. Don't abandon me."

Caramel curled up on her blanket, closing her eyes. It was easier to forgive someone over the phone—everyone knew that.

"It was twenty-thousand dollars, Fiona." Caramel groaned. "Why did you even do it? Did you do it because you knew I would forgive you?"

"…..Yeah."

"And then you tried to make my life hell by posting up that video and that picture."

Silence.

Caramel sighed and curled up further into her blanket—she was ravenous with hunger, not having eaten the whole day. She didn't have the energy to make anything to eat either, and she certainly couldn't stomach anything now.

"You know what…let's just pretend this conversation never happened." Caramel made to put down the phone, but Fiona spoke again.

"I was jealous! I was jealous of how lucky you were. You had money, you lived in a beautiful home, and you were waited on hand and foot, and everyone paid attention to you! And you didn't even want that—you weren't even grateful for all those things everyone else wanted."

Caramel became very still then. It was because Fiona sounded like the one person she was determined to never forgive, but always forgave anyway.

Fiona sounded just like Agnes.

"I don't….I don't want…." Caramel sighed heavily, and let the phone tumble away.

She didn't want this wealth. She didn't want this attention. She would rather go back in time where Raymond was still alive, and when Arven and Agnes would be there as well, and they would be just foolishly poor and happy as an actual family. They weren't rich, and they were often hungry, but they would smile. They would smile everyday, and on rainy days, they would drive out in that taxi Raymond drove everyday to support them for the rare meal outside, and laugh about silly things and actually be genuinely happy.

Now, all Caramel did on rainy days was stay in her room and starve herself. She did it in order to punish herself. She knew it was stupid and futile, but she couldn't stand allowing herself to be happy.

Not this way.

And she cried herself to sleep that night, because Caramel realized then—there was no turning back now.

CARAMELHALL

The next morning, Arven met Law in the dining room, where the superstar was brooding. It was an odd thing to witness—it was only six in the morning, after all.

"What's up?"

"A lot of people don't approve of my affection for your sister." Law admitted without preamble.

"She doesn't approve of it either." Arven chortled, sipping the cup of tea he had made for himself. Law chuckled, but it was a half-hearted sound.

"I can't help myself." Law shrugged. "I just get the feeling she needs to be loved and protected."

"I have honestly never heard anyone say that about Caramel before." Arven's lips twitched into an amused smile. Perhaps now would be a good time to talk to Law about how to handle Caramel.

"She's too strong, infallible, almost." Law said wistfully. "That was the very thing that keyed me into how weak she really is."

"It's my fault she ended up like that." Arven said, sinking into his chair. He put his tea down and crossed his legs on the chair, stroking the handle of his teacup listlessly. "Because of our birth order, Caramel…she….." Arven sighed heavily and tried to bite back the choking regret now suffocating him. "She wasn't supposed to be born. No one wanted her—that was what was always told to her. And she's been living with that stigma for her entire life. And we all allowed it to happen."

Law waited.

"She's used to rejection. But it still hurts the strongest of us, and Caramel more than others. That's why she thinks everyone is lying when we tell her we love her." Arven chuckled weakly. "She thinks love itself is a lie."

"Then, how am I supposed to…" To what? Law sat back in his chair, feeling the hopelessness of the situation finally sink in. How was he supposed to let Caramel know he loved her, when she didn't even believe in love?

"There is hope." Arven murmured quietly. "She has allowed herself to live for this long, after all." Law stared at the older brother of his love interest, and was struck by how Arven—the one who had known Caramel the longest, the one who had tried everything to help his sister survive—was feeling.

Hopeless. That was how they were feeling, because it was as if Caramel was withering right before them, and they were allowing it, because they had no idea how to give her the will to live. She never had such a thing before, after all.

"There is hope." Arven lied to himself, and turned to stare Law in the eye. "There just has to be." He whispered quietly. What felt like hours later, when Arven had drifted back to bed, Law decided that he was going to do something.

He didn't know what he was going to do, but he was going to do it. Whatever it was.

CARAMELHALL

Caramel stared up at the ceiling of her boudoir when she couldn't ignore the glare of the sun through the windows anymore. The room was toasty and warm with the heat from the risen sun, and she didn't want to move from there. She slowly allowed the heat to seep into her skin—it would never reach her frozen heart though.

How many times had she wanted to fall asleep and just never wake up again?

How many times had she decided to kill herself and end her own suffering, but never ever went through with it?

How many times had she wanted to die now? Or rather….

When had she ever wanted to live?

She closed her eyes, and willed herself to die.

CARAMELHALL

A/N : It's been a week. I owe you guys this chapter. Here you go. And I'm still stuck at writing chapter 27, so yeah….

But I won't deprive you guys of weekly updates :P That would be cruel. I won't deprive you guys until I run out of pre-completed chapters, so yeah….

Review to keep me going! It's exam week for me! Or rather….exam weeks! Ha ha. REVIEWS KEEP ME ALIVE. PLEASE AND THANK YOU.