Chapter Thirty

"Red." Frank Westlane's head lolled back and forth. He rubbed his cheek against the wall. "Red. Red. Red. Red." He tried to tug his arms free, but the shirt they gave him didn't seem to have any openings. His limbs felt like an entangled mess. The red swept over him. He jerked his head back and gurgled. "Get it off me! Get it off! I'm suffocating!"

Keys jangled and the door flew open. A man in all white stood in the doorway while two others rushed in and tried to hold Frank down. Frank thrashed. "Help me! The red!"

The man didn't blink, merely clasping his hands in front of him. "Mr. Westlane, take a deep breath and calm down. The room's all white. Your clothes are all white. There's nothing red."

Frank's eyes darted around and he craned his neck, swallowing hard as he scrutinized his clothes. They were spotless. "But – but it was just here a second ago. I –" His eyes burned and he squinted. The glare of the white walls, his white uniform, the man in white – it was blinding. Whining softly, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Father, you won't believe how much I made for you –"

"Claire gave birth today. James is the father of another beautiful baby," Terrence Westlane beamed from his desk.

"Oh. Well. Congrats to the happy little family. Now Father, did you know –"

"They named him Terry – after me. A little twist on my own name. Frankly, I've always thought having multiple names running through generations is kind of old-fashioned and corny, but they said they really wanted to call him Terry so of course, I had no choice but to give in to their wishes." He coughed gruffly, running his hand over his reluctant smile. "Though if they really wanted to name him after me, they should just take Terrence. I think it's a much more solid name than Terry, don't you think?"

Frank forced a smile. "Well, then when I have a son, I'll name him Terrence –"

"Nah, that won't do. There's already Terry. It'll be confusing –"

"But I want to, Father."

"It's a small matter, Frank. Just pick another name. You don't have to copy your brother all the time."

"Me? What are you talking about? Oh please, Father. If anything, it's James who's always – hell, he even took Claire away from me!"

"Now you're being delusional."

"I'm not delusional! Why must you always take his side? Why can't you ever smile at me? Be proud of me? What does James have that I don't?"

Terrence stared at Frank. "It's not a matter of picking favorites, son. James might not be as ambitious as you or as rich as you, but if you're talking about happiness and about truly living life, then James has always had his priorities straighter than you do."

"So what? Are you calling me a failure in life?"

"For crying out loud, I'm not saying that –"

"I'm a failure. That's right. The idiot son who blindly slaves away for you while James frolics away, making babies and kissing your ass."

"Frank –"

"If you love them so much, why don't you just up and die and leave them all your money then? Give good little James and his brats all the money you've hoarded away – that I helped you work for! I certainly don't need you! I don't need anything from you!"

Frank's hands jerked in a spasm, his palms sweaty in the enclosure of his shirt. "Wait, no. I need the red. I need it. It's mine. I need it."

The man in the white stared at him. Frank swallowed as he looked around the room. No color. Nothing.

"What did you do to me? Where's the red? Where is it? Why did you take it from me? Why did you leave me –" Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he tried to jerk free from the men's grasp.

The man in the doorway spoke calmly. "Mr. Westlane, why do you want the red?"

Frank blinked and he tried to lean into the wall, his legs curling and folding underneath him. "Because it's the only thing I've ever had." Shakily, he pressed close into the soft walls. "It's the only thing he's ever given me."

"Who? Mr. Westlane, who are you talking about?"

Terrence Westlane stared at him in shock and blatant disgust. "How can you even say such a thing? You're starting to be right, Frank." He shook his head. "You've become such a disappointment."

"Red. Red. I hate it. I hate it so much. But – but -"


"But I need it. It's mine. Only mine." He slammed his forehead against the soft padded walls and started screaming again. White melting into red, red seeping into white.

"You have to be careful. Don't walk so fast. Take it easy."

"We know, Dani. Now for the last time, stop holding onto my arm. I'm not going to speed off." Vincent brushed his sister off and turned to strengthen his grip around Sammy's shoulders, trying to press her into his side and hold her up at the same time. "Are you okay? Do you need a break?"

She smiled in amusement. "It's just down the hall. I think I can manage these few crucial steps." But her face was sheet white and her fingers fumbled to clasp Vincent's hand.

Danielle spoke up again. "You two just couldn't wait until you got better to visit Terry? I mean, I understand your worries, Sammy, but we could just visit him for you and tell him what's going on. It won't do anyone any good if you two collapsed right now."

Sammy shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm just – just a little nervous. I mean, I haven't seen him in such a long time and –" Tears started to fill up her eyes. "- and he was in a coma and what if he's all different now?"

Will patted her back. "Don't worry, Sammy. The nurses said he's making great progress." He bounced on his heels. "Gosh, but I'm still pretty nervous too. I mean, from your pictures, he did seem really cute."

Vincent arched an eyebrow over the top of Sammy's head at Will. "What the hell?" he mouthed.

Will beamed. Vincent rolled his eyes. "I kill you later," he added silently.

They resumed their path down the hallway and they stopped in front of the room the nurse had pointed out to them. Sammy swallowed hard before turning to Vincent and the others. "Do you mind if I talked to my brother alone first?" She squeezed Vincent's hand.

He murmured. "You sure you don't need me with you?"

"No, I think I should talk to him first. Just the two of us. I don't want him getting scared by a large group of people suddenly trampling into his room. Just – can you just wait for me outside?"

Danielle smiled and hugged her gently. "Of course." Vincent nodded.

Sammy turned back to the door and twisted the doorknob.

She stepped into the room and let the door close behind her. Nearing the bed with soft, hesitant steps, she bit her lip and tried to calm herself. "Terry?"

She watched as his eyes fluttered open, his gaze dazed and unfocused. She heaved a quivering breath. "Terry? It's me. Sammy."

Terry's matching green eyes were fixated on hers. She lifted up a hand, trailed her index finger against his arm, and tried to hold his hand without accidentally yanking out any tubes. "You're – you're so thin now. What happened to Fabio, huh?" Her eyes were blurry and she tried to stop sniffling.

She turned back to him. His eyes never left her face. "Terry? Are you okay? What's the matter? Can you talk?" She looked around the room, now wishing that she had someone else in there to ask. "Terry? Can you say something?"

The tears welled over. "I'm – I'm sorry. I – Terry, can you even recognize me? It's me. Sammy. Your sister. You know, your – your older sister. Well, your only sister, actually." A harsh laugh tore through her tears. She pressed her lips together until they whitened and turned numb. Lifting her other hand, she pressed the heel of her palm against her eyes and shook her head. "You're going to call me a crybaby again, even though you shouldn't because I'm older. You're such a brat." Suddenly, she was on her knees besides his bed and her arms were around him, holding on tight, so tight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"S - sammy." His soft whisper threaded through the air.

She looked up and his eyes, soft and bright, met hers. "Yes. Yes." The tears never stopped.

The door opened and Vincent leapt to attention. Sammy shuffled out, sheepishly rubbing her swollen eyes. His hands hovered around her shoulders. "You were crying."


Danielle came over. "Oh Sammy, now your eyes are all red."

"No more than yours were, Danielle."

The other girl snapped her mouth closed. "Hey, that was a one time deal. I'm never going to cry over that idiot again."

Her brother glared. "The idiot will appreciate it if you'll just shut up."

Sammy smiled before reaching out to tug on Vincent's sleeve. "Hey, I want you to come meet him."

Vincent gaped at the open doorway. "Now?"

"No, sometime in the next century, genius." Danielle coughed.

The dark haired boy bared his teeth. "Thanks, sis."

"Anytime, bro."

Vincent turned back to Sammy, his eyes slightly apprehensive. "Are you sure he's up for it? He's not too – tired?"

"Well, considering the fact that he spent most of his time lying around in bed –"

"Alright, alright." He licked his lips. "So you had your talk already and explained everything about the, um, everything?"

"Yes, Vince."

"Alright. Okay. Good. Good. So, uh, do you think he'll like me? Wait. No, I – I was just kidding. Yup. Alright. This is funny. This is good. Let's do this."

Vincent jammed his hands into his pockets and rocked slightly back and forth on his heels. His gray eyes darted around the room before landing on Terry. "Hey there, uh, Sammy's little brother. I mean, Terry. Hey, Terry."

The boy lying in bed had brighter hair than his sister, but their eyes were definitely the same shade of forest green. Dark, compelling, and for some reason, strangely menacing now. Vincent chuckled nervously. "So the Bastard's gone and everyone's safe. How are you? The nurses said you're recuperating nicely."

The eyes pierced into him. No blinking.

"Yup, they said you'll be back to full functional mode soon – or um, sooner or later. But don't worry, I'll take care of your sister for you until we can all be together again."

If eyes can quirk an eyebrow without moving a muscle, then Terry just did it.

"I mean, she'll be able to retrieve her inheritance soon on her birthday and then she can relax without worrying too much about financial problems. But you know, even if she had any problems, I'll always be more than happy to help her out because – because she's my girlfriend. I mean, because I like her. I mean, because I kinda more than like her. I mean, not kinda – I more than like her -"

"Alright, Vincent. I think he gets it." Sammy's cheeks were a nice shade of pink now and she refused to look over at the flustered boy. "Terry, soon, once you're all better, we'll be able to get a place for ourselves with the money Grandpa, Mom, and Dad saved up. You'll go back to school and I'll work while studying. We'll make do." She smiled. "Just you and me."

Vincent nudged her lightly with his shoulder. Sammy returned his bump, but resolutely ignored him. A hint of a tiny grin played on her lips.

"Hey, Terry. You don't know me, but I know you. In fact, I think I know you extremely well."

Terry's green eyes were bright with what appeared to be alarm.

"Oh, don't look like that. Unless you're just taken back by the adorable, gorgeous vision before you. Then you should know that this vision is named William Carter. You can call me Will."

Terry darted his eyes to the door.

"Yes, I walked through that door. No, I didn't appear out of thin air like some angel. I am one hundred percent physically male yumminess." Will licked his lips. "Yumminess, indeed."

Terry blinked frantically and squinted at the door.

"You know, I had a major part in saving your sister. She was Sleeping Beauty and I was Prince Charming – oh wait, was Prince Charming only for Cinderella – oh please, they're all the same princes anyway - okay, I was Prince William, come to save her from the evil hag – that will be your ugly uncle. Okay, so there I was in your uncle's house." Will threw out his arms, stretching them toward an imaginary target. "Vincent was groaning and down, pretty much useless. His mom and his sister are attending to him. And then Frank makes a play for Vincent's mom – not a sexual play, though if you think about it, ew – but a play of utter demented violence with a sharp knife glistening with the blood of his first victim – or Vincent." He clasped his hands to his cheeks and shook his head, his mouth falling open in a silent NO!

"So without any thought of my own safety and with the help of my lightning fast reflexes, I leapt forward!" He bounced two steps and extended his arms forward, his mouth twisting in a battle cry. Terry's eyes widened and if the boy could press backward, he would have done so. "And BAM! Down goes The Bastard! The crowd goes wild! Seriously, Mrs. Grenford yelped like those little curly haired poodles. The monster was still struggling and bucking, but I have super strong legs and managed to lock him in place and pin him down!"

Will pumped his hands into the air and his body undulated. "While I'm wrestling with the crazed lunatic who's practically frothing at the mouth and trying to pull a Mike Tyson on my beautiful ears, the other boys finally come out of their shocked states. They blinked and were all like Oh no, you didn't!" Here, Will swished his hand out and snapped his fingers twice. "The Bastard! Only I can chomp on my William's perfect ears! and then they all jumped in on top of him. I had it all under control of course, but no hero is complete without good sidekicks – and besides, I have the notion that they kinda wanted to feel up my hot little bod while they're at it, using Frank as an excuse – but no matter, I'm a generous, free spirit made for loving. It's only natural that they can't resist -"

"Well, I don't think I can resist not throwing you out the window."

Terry glanced over at the door in relief. Will stiffened before turning around to grin happily. "Hey there, dudes and dudettes! I was just regaling little Terry here with some tales of our famous escapades."

Jack scoffed. "Oh yeah, that's right. The Tale of William and His Little Sidekicks Who Protected the Perfect Ears, was it?"

William's lips were stretched from ear to ear. "Exciting, wasn't it?"

Tristan leaned his forearm against the doorway and responded archly, "Oh, very, especially the part where – what was it? Oh yes, when we jumped in after we shrieked Oh no, you didn't!"

Caine's lips curled in disgust. "And felt your body up while we were at it? Please, you must have swapped points of view in your story. As I recall, I distinctly remember a hand on my ass that never seemed to lose its place even when I tried to elbow it off."

"Uh – I don't know what you're talking about -" Will jabbed a finger at Jack. "I can't believe the nerve of you, Jack! Whatever will Carrie say? Molesting Caine in such times of peril! I'm ashamed to call you my friend!"

"That's it." Jack rolled up his sleeves. "Let's kill him now and end it all."

"No, don't!" Vincent stepped in.

Will threw open his arms. "Vinnie!"

"It's a freaking hospital. He'd get sewn up in two minutes and be back in our lives again. I say we drive him to the ocean and drown him."

Will's smile turned upside down. "Vinnie!"

Sammy was too busy laughing as she moved next to Terry's bed. "They're all thrilled to meet you, Terry." Terry rolled his eyes, though they twinkled with amusement.

Three Months Later

"Mr. Sam Westlane." The headmaster of the prestigious Crestan High School peered over his frames imposingly at the small girl sitting in front of him. "Or rather, Miss Samantha Westlane, isn't it?"

Samantha Westlane kept her eyes cast down. Her shiny red hair had grown out into soft layers that framed her face. Sitting there before him now in Carrie's clothes that fit her form, she was undeniably a young woman. Finnigan now wondered what possessed him the day he mistook her for a boy and allowed her to step into his school.

Her knuckles turned white as she tightened her folded hands. "Sir, I'm so sorry about this whole mess, but I had no other choice then. I did what I thought was best and –"

He interrupted, his voice stern. "That may be so, Miss Westlane, but do you know just how much trouble you've caused our school – not to mention, myself?"

"No – no, sir," she whispered.

"I understand your dilemma and believe me, I empathize with you. You were extremely brave in trying to take matters in your own hand and while I'm not sure how successful your plan was, I'm glad you and your brother are nonetheless safe now."

"Thank you."

"The school is – oh, how can I put this – it was calmer during the period you were in attendance, even though in the aftermath of your kidnapping – yes, that's a whole other matter. You've certainly distracted the attentions of young Vincent Grenford and his friends –" Samatha blushed. "- and the rest of the students had a great year. You weren't completely detrimental to our school."

She looked up. "Then –"

"Still, don't forget about the media who has been absolutely relentless in camping out on our front lawn. Not to mention, all the phone calls I've received from angry parents. In all my years here, I've never had so many problems – from worrying about my students running away to being questioned about my responsibility and judgment – Samantha Westlane, what do you have to say for yourself?" Headmaster Finnigan's laced his fingers together and furrowed his brows.

"I am so sorry about everything. I never imagined – I mean, Headmaster Finnigan, I'm so sorry and I'll take full responsibility for causing all this trouble. I just – can you just give me a bit more time so that I can arrange to be transferred into a new school? Please, if you throw me out now, I don't think I can –" Samantha's stammering subsided and she swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

Finnigan nodded and with a sigh, pushed back from his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he looked down as he tapped a finger against the mahogany surface. "I'm sorry about this, but even you must understand that you can't remain here in an all boys school."

Her heart sank. "Yes, I know."

"So I suppose there's no other way about it. Get your things ready as soon as possible, say your goodbyes –"


"- and prepare to leave within three months."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He coughed, flustered. "Now, don't look at me like that. Three months is a very long time."

"Yes, yes, I'm absolutely grateful for this and I think I should be able to get a response from other schools soon, but –"

"Mrs. Grenford has kindly offered her assistance in this matter."

"Wh – what?" She almost swallowed her tongue.

"During the last couple of months, she's been an absolute pleasure –"

Again, her tongue lodged in her throat.

"- and she's helped out with fending off the media and irate parents, not to mention that she's asked on your behalf to offer you a temporary space here until you could make proper arrangements."

Samantha gaped at him.

"Yes, Miss Westlane?"

"Mrs. Grenford, as in Vincent's mother?"

"Yes, Mrs. Grenford. I think I'm quite aware of who I'm dealing with."

"No. No, I mean I'm just a bit, um, shocked."

"Yes, well, you do realize that this doesn't mean you've been given complete free reign here. You'll attend your classes as usual, but you're to stay away from the boys' bathroom and locker room and you must immediately move out to another room that will remain secluded from the boys - even Vincent, understand?"

She flushed. "Yes, of course."

"Alright then, now before you go, Mrs. Grenford asked me to pass along a message for you."


"For now."

"Um, what?"

"She said to tell you for now and said that you should know what it means. Do you?"

Samantha sat there in the seat, blinking for a moment before dipping her head down to hide a smile. "I, uh, I think so. Yeah." She straightened up in her seat and nodded. "Thank you so much, sir. I'll be extra careful for the next three months."

He cleared his throat gruffly. "You do that. I'll have someone take you to your room now."

The girl flashed a smile before stepping out of his office.

"Hey, you! Stop right there!"

The clamor in the hallway immediately died down and everyone stopped what they were doing, leaning in close to their lockers. A boy with shaggy auburn hair halted in his steps and looked around, perturbed. "Me?"

Will crossed his arms and jerked his chin forward. "Yeah, you. I've had my eye on you for quite a while."

The other boy swallowed hard. "Wh – what?"

Will nodded in a slow, leisurely manner. "Yeah. Don't think you can fool me though. I know your secret."

The redhead gaped and tried to back away. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Will took a step forward. "Yeah, you're a girl, aren't you?"


"You're a scared little girl running away from some mysterious horror in your past and you've chosen to enroll yourself in an all boys school so that you may finally find some hunk – preferably your roommate - to rescue you from all your troubles! Well, look no more! I am your hunk!"


Will threw open his arms and shook his head, sending his wavy locks to curl across his forehead, shadowing his eyes. "My lady, I am at your service."

"I don't need no freaking service! Man, I'm no lady!" The terrified boy started to sprint down the hallway.

"Don't be shy, baby! Don't lie to me! I don't want to be forced to perform a strip search! Come back!" Will started to give chase when a hand caught the hood of his sweatshirt and yanked him back.

Vincent's eyes were squeezed tight as he rubbed his temples with his other hand. His tongue darted out to lick his lips slowly before he sighed. "Will –"

"You're so sexy."

"Will! What the hell is wrong with you?" He throttled the other boy. "This is what – the seventh time you've done this this month? Are you trying to molest everybody here?"

Will turned up his nose primly as he retorted, "Big talk, Mr. I Found My Sexy Crossdresser. Not everyone is as lucky as you. Some of us actually have to work hard to find their own Sammy."

Sammy looked pained. "Will, um, I doubt every other person in this building is a girl in disguise."

"According to statistics, there are hundreds of girls enrolled in all boys school."

Caine looked interested. "Really?"

"That's because he compiles his statistics from the fictional romance novels he reads online, idiot," Jack snapped.

Will escaped Vincent's clutches and hugged Sammy. "Happy Birthday, Sammy!"

"It's not my birthday."

"It will be."

"In three weeks, Will."

"Celebrations are never too early."

Vincent wrapped an arm around Sammy and steered her down the hall. "Bye, Will."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Somewhere that has no you or anybody else. I have to talk to Sammy alone."

"Stingy hog."

Vincent led Sammy down the steps into a quiet alcove away from the din of the hallways. He turned around, leaned against the cool marble wall, and held her hand.

She stood before him with her eyebrows furrowed. "What's going on, Vincent? We have class in half an hour."

He pulled gently, drawing her near him. "Nothing. I just felt like I haven't really been around you much ever since you moved out."

"Headmaster Finnigan was really generous – and from what he told me, your mother had a lot to do with it."

"Guess she finally saw how wonderful you are."

"Um, maybe. But she also told me for now so I guess that's exactly what it means. For now, we'd just have to be content with what we have."

He arched an eyebrow before pressing his forehead to hers. Her head dipped backward. He grinned, "Like I'd ever let this just be it."

"Oh? And what exactly do you have in mind, Young Master Grenford?"

"If I can think up of something that got me stabbed, then I think I can think of – okay, that sounded wrong."

She rolled her eyes. Turning around, she leaned back against his chest while keeping his arms wrapped around her shoulders. His chin came down to rest in the crook of her neck. For a moment, they just stood there, her fingers trailing circles on his arm while he pressed his cheek against hers. "Say, where did Tristan go these couple of days?"

"His father called him home for some reason," he mumbled absentmindedly.

"Is it something bad?"

"Nah, he said it was just a nuisance he had to take care of."

"Do you think he'll be back soon?"


"He'll be okay?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."


"His dad is pretty stubborn. The problem might not be solved as easily as Tristan might expect."


"Yeah, Mr. Harland's a good father."

"You think so?"


"What about your father?"

"Have you been using perfume?"

"Never. What about your father?" She twisted her neck around to eye him.

"He's alright. You'll meet him soon, I think. So what do you want for your birthday?"


"Celebrations are never too early."

"I don't mean that. I meant, what do you mean I'm going to meet him?"

"It'll happen sooner or later." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Don't look so worried. He's, um, just weird."


"I said, not to worry. When it comes, we'll deal with it. Until then –" His hands touched her waist and he turned her around, encircling his arms around her. "- I have a big important question for you."

"Uh huh. I see." She gave him a wary look. "Well, what is this all important inquiry?"

"Well, you see," he mused. "I've always wondered, who did I really fall for? Shy little Sam Westlane or was it the mysterious Samantha - well, Samowa - in the green mask?"

She closed her eyes and chuckled in disbelief.

He leaned forward and murmured in her ears. "And who exactly am I holding now? Sam or Samantha?"

She shook her head and tongue in cheek, she looked up. "How about Sammy?"

"So what? A hybrid fusion?" He grinned, his fingers caressing her hips.

"Just Sammy." Her arms came up to wrap around his neck as she leaned up on tiptoes. "Your Sammy."

And there was no need for any other words.

The End

The chair creaked as the boy leaned back, stretching his arms. He yawned loudly as he twisted his neck. His hazel eyes were illuminated eerily by the blue light from the computer screen before the corner of his lip tipped up. "My precious …" he crooned.

The lights flickered on and he jerked back, cowering in his chair and holding his hands to his eyes. "I'm blind! I've been blinded!"

"Will, what are you doing?"

William blinked blearily in the sudden brightness. Jack strode across the room, his eyes trained on his friend in suspicion. "What are you doing?" he repeated.

Sammy peeked into the room, followed shortly by Vincent and Tristan.

Caine stepped in and plopped down onto the bed. "What's happening, manwhore?"

William took a deep breath and clapped a hand to his chest. "Good. You're all here! Just in time to share with me my proudest moment! I, William Carter, have taken the liberty to recount Sammy and Vincent's moving tale of love and passion to the world!"

Caine arched an eyebrow. "You blogged it?"

"No! Even better. After months of reading stories online, I've decided to take the plunge myself. I wrote a novel!"

There was silence and then, "You?"

"I'm very good with words and I assure you, my fans love me!"

"You have fans?"

Will frowned at his friends, disgusted. "What's that supposed to mean?" He sniffed. "Well, good thing not everyone is as tasteless as you guys. Someone appreciates me out there."

Tristan cleared his throat. "I, um, just didn't know you had so much stamina to complete such a big project."

Will winked lasciviously. "Oh, I'm always good with stamina. Want me to sh-"


Sammy laughed nervously, leaning against Vincent as he looped an arm around her shoulders. "Well, that's great, Will. I'm happy for you. You've found a much more productive hobby than, um, tackling random guys in the hallways."

"Oh, it's very fun, and even though the focus was on Sammy and Vince, I especially enjoyed including the tales of everyone's number one favorite character: me!"

"You wrote about yourself?" Jack gaped.

"I also wrote about you," Will waggled his brows. Jack turned green.

Vincent eyed the computer suspiciously. "I just don't know why you wrote about me and Sammy. Why not someone else like, uh –" His grey eyes roamed the room and fell on Tristan. "- Tristan and -" The blond boy narrowed his eyes at his friend and Vincent snapped his mouth shut.

A slow grin swept across the vivacious author's face and he started making a thoughtful sound in his throat that sent chills crawling up the other boy's spine. Tristan refused to meet Will's steady scrutiny, but his features paled.

Will beamed in a flash of white teeth, his right eyebrow snaking upward. "Well then, that's just a whole other story, isn't it?"

Author's Note:

Happy New Year!

False Facades is finally reposted in its completion. I hope it has not been a disappointment.

Thank you so much for your time and for all the reviews. I highly appreciate you all for all the supportive messages you've sent along.

I don't feel like there should be a need to say this, but: Please don't plagiarize again or post this story up anywhere else without my permission. Bad karma awaits you and all that evil stuff, you know?

The sequel, Through Me, is already up and ongoing and I'm currently working on the next chapter for the story.

Thanks again for reading and until next time . . .

All Best Wishes,


(Thanks, Silviana! Whew, I'm horrible at proofreading.)

© Copyright 2003 Maeven (FictionPress ID:349779). Reposted 01/05/2009. All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of Maeven.