Whisper and Soul

It was dark in the tower that night. Tarquin Soul lay awake, staring up at his sky blue ceiling, hands folded on his belly. He'd thrown his dinner up again and now he lay here, trying to ignore the hunger. He needed his rest. He had had a long night with his fighting. He was too tired. Eventually, he threw aside the covers and made his way to the kitchen, throwing open the fridge door and grabbing any and all meat in sight. He hated himself. He hated that he wasn't human, his violent nature, his dark powers, his lack of confidence, that he couldn't read and after so many years still didn't understand human customs...

He slammed his hand against a cupboard door, dark energy flowing out. Perfect. Just bloody perfect. "I'm in control." He told himself in a worried whisper. It had been a long time since he had lost control of his powers. Then again, it had been a long time since he had been that sad and that angry with himself. A long, long time since he'd felt hopeless and useless. Tears welled up in his eyes and he punched the cupboard, dark energy wrapping round him like a cocoon. Like it wanted to keep him safe from the outside world. It enveloped him as he allowed himself to cry, but he looked up with a startled gasp as the kitchen light flicked on, shadows dissipating at once.
"Soul?"
He glanced over his shoulder and wiped his eyes. "Whisper..."
"Isn't it a bit late to be up?" She asked, voice gentle as she came closer, crouching beside him and resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Couldn't sleep." He admitted with a slight smile. He welcomed that touch. He leant his head on her shoulder. "I wasn't feeling my best. I am...better now."
"You threw up again?"
His pale blue cheeks darkened to navy. "I, uh...how do you know about that?"
"I've been concerned."
He hesitated before sighing. "I need to refine my diet is all...your concern is...very much appreciated..." He shifted a little closer to her, closer to the warmth she gave off. It made him feel safe and warm, and she was the one person he felt appreciated him. Cuddled up to her like an innocent kitten, he felt protected. Too shy to ever say anything. She absent-mindedly ran a hand through his hair.
"I feel much better." He assured her after a long pause, mood brightening when he saw her smile.
"I'm glad to hear it. I like to see you on top form."
"I'm sure..." There was a hesitation before he pulled away. "Something's wrong."
The concern returned to her face. "What is it?"
He shook his head, unwilling to say.
"Come on, you can talk to me."
After a moment he hung his head. "I think I'm in love..."
She certainly hadn't expected that. "...And?"
Soul drew his knees up to his chest. "With a human. I'm not human. I'm not supposed to feel things for a human. I'm not even supposed to feel things for my own species..."
There was a moment of silence before Whisper's hand found Soul's shoulder once more. "No-one in your world knows love...but if you do, you know what that makes you?"
"A...freak?"
She shook her head, laughing a little. "A better person. A better person than all those monsters back in that world. You're a hero. You put others before yourself, and even when you went against the good side, you could never bring yourself to do any serious damage to anyone. You're a strong person with strong emotional ties." She took his hands and showed him the two rings on his middle fingers. One black with seven blue gems, the other gold with twelve red gems. Both were very tight. It was a miracle they hadn't cut off circulation to the fingers. He stared at them for a long moment before bursting into tears and throwing his arms around her neck, pulling her close in a tight embrace.
"Thank you." He managed.
"You're a wonderful guy, Soul." Whisper assured him, gently hugging back. "I'm sure anyone would love to have you near them. If I was the girl you loved, I'd love you back unconditionally."
He drew back again. "You're just saying that." He muttered, blushing again.
She shook her head. "I mean it." She assured him, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek before standing. "I'm glad you're feeling better. We ought to get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
He gave a slight nod. "Good night..." She left and he put a hand to his cheek where she had kissed him. A smile split his usually grumpy features. An old phrase came to mind. "...My light in the darkness..." She who generates light and feelings of good will wherever she went. Whisper.

Angels and Demons

I walked down the street, eyes on the pavement. I was in a bad mood, tears still falling. Around me danced the ghostly visage of my teenage brother. There was still a patch of blood on the road where he had fallen. A small drop of brown, the smallest amount that dropped from his nose that morning. He'd died that afternoon. I turned to keep the ghost in view, and he had stopped now. He was gazing at a bouquet of flowers by the roadside, a lovely vision of yellow and pink.
"Starfire left them there." I explained, keeping my voice low. If I spoke up, they might think I was insane. "The point at which you struck the car..."
"It struck me."
"Yes...it is sort of like a mural, I guess..." I stepped closer and instinctively went to wrap my arm around his shoulders. I can't explain the numb, empty feeling when my arm fell through. He wasn't really there, was he? He glanced at me and gave an apologetic smile.
"I didn't mean to leave you...I didn't even think I could cross over to the afterlife wthout you...maybe that's why I'm here, why I can't go on and come back as something else...perhaps I still need big brother to show me the way. I started to rise out of my body back at the hospital and I just felt cold, but I just thought it was more fun. I thought the doctor would keep going, but he stepped back all solemn, it wasn't right...he should have done more. He didn't listen to me shout at him..."
I took things in and gasped. "You're only here because you're trapped."
"I can't leave the planet, but I can go all over." He disappeared.
"Wait! Where are you going?" I blushed then, realising I'd called out. I quickly turned and continued walking. I didn't know where I was going, but perhaps soon I would reach wherever it was. It was a good half hour before I stopped, finding myself by a fast river. I sat, dipping my feet into the current and breathing deeply, trying to relax. Every now and then water splashed up into my face, just little bits, but still annoying. Eventually I opened my eyes and opposite me was crouched a translucent form, long blond hair down, held off his face by a fancy beaded beret, the hairclip kind. He was wearing a dark kimono and flicking water at me.
"Brother?"
He looked up and grinned. "Took you long enough to notice me. Guess where I've been!"
"...The North Pole?" I wasn't in the mood for games.
"Tokyo. There were a lot of lights and noises. I don't like it much, I've decided. If I want to wear something I see, I just have to want to wear it and I'm wearing it, isn't that cool?" There was a beat before the kimono turned into his normal shirt and a pair of jeans, sandals becoming trainers. "I don't have to worry about them catching fire when I fly, so I can wear anything. Anything!"
I watched him dully before sighing. "You're dead."
"Yet so alive!"
"You're dead, you shouldn't be happy." I crossed my arms. I suddenly felt angry. How dare he be gleeful at his own loss of life. How dare he? "You got hit by a car and even though you were clearly injured, you insisted you were fine. You died because of your own ridiculous pride. Now we can never hug or keep one another warm or safe, everything I did to protect you in our youth was for nothing! And now? Now you sit here opposite me, grinning like a madman. I should not even be able to see you. You should be gone for good, not haunting me and making me feel so guilty! Just leave me alone, you brat! Quit lording your death over me like it is the best thing to ever happen! Are you trying to kill me too? Isn't it bad enough that I lost mother and father? I have to lose you too?"
Lightning leant back, mouth hanging open, shock evident on his face. Slowly, he began to tear up.
"You know, I never really forgave the way you treated me when we were children..." He stood and wiped his eyes. "You were such a bully. You still are. You broke my arm once just because I wasn't walking fast enough for you, but your superior physique and your superior strength and speed and your greater age. You're not better than me, you're not even that tough..." He disappeared then and my eyes widened.

Oh holy hell...that was still my little brother. If I lost him, that was it. I'd just thrown away my last chance to be with my little brother, "I'm sorry..." I whimpered. "I'm so sorry...don't go..."

A Darker Alternative: Gan's Story

In this crazy world of ups and downs where they tried to murder those like us via killer robot clowns, such mundane and human things seemed strange. But here we were, sat within the patch of clouds we called our home. I was watching over my little brother, who had recently lost his dominant arm. He was pale and coughing, and had a fever. I was trying to keep him warm and hydrated, but it was clear what had happened. The site at which his arm had been severed had been infected and poisoned blood was circulating about his body. He was clearly suffering. His breathing was fast and punctuated with whimpers and whines. Finally I tried to get him to take some water, but he just turned away and held up a hand.
I sighed. "What can I do?" I asked softly, brushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead. He took my hand.
"Antibiotic..." Was all he managed to say.
"I can't." I told him, shaking my head. "I've tried. I can't get them without making a...a scene and putting my life at risk..."
A strained smile appeared on his face. He was happy that I was keeping myself safe, but suddenly it struck me.
"Your blood is infected, Tavis...tell me...could this be fatal?"
He licked his lips with a dry tongue and looked away, not willing to answer. That was enough to tell me. If I couldn't get him medicine, he would die. I swallowed anxiously, pressed the water bottle into his remaining hand and walked to the edge of the cloud.
"Gan..." He called weakly. "Don't do anything stupid..."
I glanced over my shoulder and gave a sad smile. "I won't. I promise."

And that was how I ended up trying to sneak into the drug store after hours. It was still open, but the only person in there was the owner, so rather than break something and alert those around me, I walked through the front door. I wasn't wearing my helmet, and I'd let my long hair hang loose, covering my face. It would help hide my mutations a little, I thought, and considering I wasn't wearing my shirt, maybe people might think I was, might see my miscoloured arms as sleeves...a long shot, but my best hope. I didn't keep an eye on the man behind the counter, didn't notice him press the button beneath the counter. I was too busy stuffing anything labelled 'antibiotic' into my clothes. I noticed when people began pouring into the small shop, though, all armed and dangerous. I held my hands up in surrender. "I mean you no harm." He tried. "I have never meant anyone any harm."
One of them came charging at me with a scream. I caught him by the collar and threw him back, and he fell on something that managed to pierce through him. I stared on in shock, but I had to act fast. The others were coming for me now, convinced I was a monster. I had to fight.

So that was that. These people weren't going to go easy on me, so doing so for them could mean my death. I had to fight my best, but I was weak. I hadn't eaten or slept or drunk anything for quite a while, as concerned as I was with my little brother. I was pushed up against a wall with a grunt and I could feel hits and jabs, but nothing major. They'd all crowded too close to do serious damage. And then there was a flash of bright light and an electric charge seemed to pass through them. Lightning pushed through them and I gasped.
"What are you doing here? You're sick, you need bed rest!"
"I followed you. I knew you'd get in trouble." He cut off then as more men and women started to swarm us again. We were driven back to fighting, and suddenly I felt something slash past my throat. I could feel warm blood trickle down my hands and torso, and dropped to my knees, and then I heard a blood-curdling scream.

Through the mass of people I could see a woman removing my brother's right eye with a pair of scissors. He was raking his nails over her face now he'd realised pulling at her hand would be no use. His screams became strangled sobs, and I wasn't sure what to do. I swung my arms out, sending out one last sound blast before passing out. The last thing I saw was my brother unleashing a full-body blast.

I woke up to a sharp pain in my throat. I threw my hand up, just to hear the startled cry from my brother.
"Please don't! I'm trying to help!" He pleaded, afraid I would undo his handywork.
"W-what are you doing?" I tried to ask, but all that came out was a hiss of air.
"It's okay." He told me. I opened my eyes, seeing him look down at my throat, one shining hazel eye, one dark, swollen hole oozing blood and meat. I must admit it was a terrifying sight. He whimpered.
"Please don't. I will be fine, I promise, brother. I'm sewing your injury shut." I wondered how for a brief moment before realising that beside him he had a pin and dental floss...He was using dental floss and a normal pin that would certainly tear holes in my flesh as a makeshift suturing kit. My mind ran through every little danger, and the possibility of choking him there and then, but I took a proper look at him then. Pale and sweaty, clearly quite unwell. Still infected and brutally injured. I reached up and stroked the side of his face and he started crying. I tried to comfort him, but after a moment he began to wail.
"You can't speak!" He wailed, curling up against my chest.
I can't? I frowned, stroking his fair hair, thinking it would be okay.
"But it won't!" He cried.
...Can you hear me?
He looked up. "I can hear you...but you're not speaking..."

Cutie Apple Pie

((Warning, this piece will have plenty of time jumps.))

It was late for a pony to be up, pacing her room, worrying a rut into the floor with her hooves. The fact of the matter was Applejack was stressed. She'd had a test done and just that day received a letter with the results. Now she was pacing, and thinking, lost in her mind as she tried desperately to find a solution. What was she supposed to do or say? She couldn't keep this a secret.

Down the hall, a little filly shifted out of sleep thanks to the echoing sounds of her sister's worry as Applejack muttered to herself and fiddled with things around the room. Tiredly, little Applebloom made her way to her big sister's room, about to enquire as to what was wrong when the stressful mare hurled the fateful letter in anger. It landed before Applebloom, who uncrumpled it and read it, mouth hanging open. "Applejack...are you having a baby?!"

-----

The night was dark and cold, just a few short months ago. It felt like mere days ago. Two colts waded through thick mud, shivering despite the coats they wore, trying to hold onto their hats in the rain. These brothers stayed huddled together, speaking in hushed tones, speaking of their current poor fortune. They walked, looking for somewhere to rest their aching muscles or something to feed their empty bellies. The younger dreamt of delicious apples and warm bedding while the elder bitterly glared up at the sky as though he could stop the rain. They stumbled forth, the noise from behind barely registering in their minds. Rustle, scrape, groan. Barely heard over the ruckus in their heads made by their troubled thoughts. It wasn't until he felt the breath on the back of their necks that they froze, daring to look behind them. The creature roared. The younger only needed to see the vicious chainsaw of teeth in that mouth, just big enough to gobble a pony whole, before he was running as fast as his tired legs could carry him. Within seconds his brother was by his side, but there was one fateful difference. Flim was at the edge of the path, where the walkway was crumbling a little and loose rock caused him to stumble, take a tumble over the edge, and his dear twin brother never noticed a thing until it was far too late.

-----

Applejack shushed her little sister, scowling, making her promise not to tell a single soul until she was ready. Curious little Applebloom had questions. "Do you know who the father is?"
"I'd rather not say."
"You mean you don't?"
"I do, but I'd rather not say."
"Are ya gonna keep it? It's an Apple, after all."
She thought for a moment, crossing over her front legs. Apples were a strong breed, spread all over Equestria. There were illegitimate children. Heck, Applejack's mother was born out of wedlock. But what if everyone was ashamed of her? And what use was a pregnant mare on the apple farm? But was that really the issue for her? Others being ashamed? Would it not be more shameful to give away a child simply because it did not suit or because she was on unfriendly terms with the father? Sighing, she gave a slight nod. Deep down she knew from the start she would keep it. It was hardly the baby's fault.

The next day, Applebloom was with her friends, and Applejack with hers. Topic of conversation? Rarity's upcoming wedding to her 'perfect gentlecolt'. She was sharing out the designs for her elegant do, with flowers in her mane and the most gorgeous dress. Applejack was struggling to pay attention to everything around her, lost in her own stresses. Her friends were concerned, but they couldn't get any sense out of her.

Applebloom however, quickly grew tired of Sweetie Belle talking about all the pretty things being shipped in for the wedding and boasting how she gets to be a bridesmaid. "You should see the dress I'm wearing! It's this really comfy material and really pretty and shimmery, and light purple."
"Applejack's pregnant!" Applebloom blurted, drawing the attention of the others. Silence fell for a moment.
"Really?" Asked Sweetie Belle.
"I didn't know she had a coltfriend." Scootaloo muttered.
"She doesn't. That's the thing! She doesn't know who the father is!"
"No way!"
"I thought she would be more careful than that..."

-----

Groaning, he came to, finding himself in a puddle. Somewhere on the way down from that height, that path, he had lost his hat and coat. At least the rain had stopped, although that didn't change the fact that he was still cold and wet. Slowly, he picked himself up, only to feel a harsh pain in his back left. Still, the fact was he couldn't stay there. He was injured and vulnerable, and nopony knew anyone was out there. He had to pick a direction and go, because looking up and calling told him Flam was long gone. Eventually he would limp to civilisation. He was sure of it.

After what seemed like forever, the sun began to rise. The early morning light shone over him as he limped forth, catching sight of an apple orchard in the distance. A sweet smell drifted to him as he got closer, setting his stomach growling again. They wouldn't miss a couple of apples, he decided, using his magic to pick a few. In the distance he heard the odd thump of hooves against tree trunk followed by a shower of apples. Ah, the owners were awake already. Well, he just had to eat now and make his presence known later. A dropped core rolled off without him noticing, but he did notice the hoofsteps. He took a quick step back.
"Who's there?" The mare called before stepping through to find Flim surrounded by half-eaten apples.

-----

Gossip spreads like wildfire. Everypony knows that. And that is exactly what it did. 'Applejack's having a baby'. It spread through all the foals in the school, to all their parents and siblings, to all their friends and family, so on and so forth. And there poor Applejack was in the middle of it all, completely oblivious. As far as she was concerned, her sister had kept good by her promise and told nopony. It wasn't until Rarity's wedding night a few nights later when the beans spilled.

She was there, with her friends, the formal dress she wore a little too tight. She was squirming in discomfort, hoping this wouldn't take long, and there came Rainbow Dash. "Hey AJ, how's tricks?"
She looked over and gave an awkward smile. She hadn't spoken to her friends properly since finding out about her extra passenger. She had just had so much stress on her mind, and not even the concern her friends had for her had broken through. "Hey Rainbow."
"How've you two been lately?"
"Y'mean me and Applebloom? Yeah, fine..."
"No, I mean...never mind...you've seen pretty down lately."
"Yeah, I guess I have...sorry."
"What for?"
"Well, I've been in this foul mood and been brushin' you all off and I haven't even told y'all why."
"It's not because of the whole baby thing is it?"
"What now?" Applejack froze up, eyes widening.
"That's what everyone's saying. You're having a baby with some mystery stallion. Why didn't you tell us before making it public?"
"Who...who knows about this?"
There was a moment of silence. "I don't know...Rarity said Sweetie Belle asked about it..."
"...Applebloom..." She started off, ignoring the indignant calls of her friends, suddenly very aware of all the stares. She picked up the pace, getting home in record time, and Granny Smith awoke with a start. AJ did her best to sneak past, but with one call of 'who's there?' there quickly followed the most awkward conversation of her life.

-----

"And what in the hay do you think you're doin' here?"
"This is Ponyville?" He asked, looking around with a frown. "In that case I can find my way out to Mareazona and talk to my uncle and maybe get a line out to Flam if we can find out where he ran off to." He spoke to himself, pacing around the apple cores. Applejack cleared her throat.
"Excuse me?"
"I don't think I owe you an explanation considering you and your precious princess managed to convince the entire world that my brother and I are con ponies. I'll have you know that our tonic had physical antibiotic and anti-inflammation qualities we'd taken from a recipe given to us by a zebra in the Everfree Forest."
"But Silver Shill said-"
"Silver Shill was involved in the mixing for the taste alone. All he did was take apples and puree them like we taught him."
Her eyes were now drawn to his injured leg. "What happened to you?"
He turned away. "None of your business."
"It looks real bad is all. Are you shiverin'?"
He tried to move around her then, pretend everything was fine, but he put his bad leg down and ended up on his bottom, biting his tongue to keep himself from crying out. Applejack moved to help him up but he jerked away, slumping against one of the trees. "Look, I've had a very bad night, that's all."
"Well come on in and I'll get a doctor. The sooner you get your leg seen to, the sooner you can leave and never darken my doorstep again."

-----

Knock knock knock on the door.
"Applejack?"
Applejack herself lay on her bed, door locked. She would leave the room now and then for basic needs and maybe a few chores, but mostly she wanted to stay out of the public eye. After a moment, she raised her head.
"Fluttershy?"
"Um, yeah, just, I was wondering if you might like to maybe come spend time with us perhaps?"
Another voice came then. Rainbow Dash. "I was thinking we could help you catch up on all those chores you've been falling behind on, awesome style. Imagine us just whipping through, wind in our manes, followed by a rain of apples!"
Sighing, she lay back down. "Gimme a minute to think." Guilt washed over her. How could she just shut out her friends the way she did? Her eyes were drawn to the pillow beside her, a single strand from a filthy, red mane still hanging on it. Memories came rushing on in before she could slam the door on them. She let her eyes close, and when they opened she was in the past.

-----

The doctor came and went, bandaging up Flim's leg and telling him to get some rest. He refused to go along to the Ponyville hospital, instead requesting to contact his uncle from Sweet Apple Acres. He was clearly worried about his brother as well, even trying to insist on looking for him until it was made clear to him he absolutely couldn't. By the looks of it he would be staying over night, so, begrudgingly, the Apples gave him a little food and let him spend the night in the barn.

That night, a killer storm started up again. The wind howled, rain thumped harshly against the window. Applejack awoke to the distant sound of the barn doors being slammed open and shut. She sat up, eyes drawn through the window, to the barn. It would be freezing in there, and there was no way Flim would get the rest he needed...he would get better faster if there were less problems. The faster he got better, the sooner he could leave...and out there he would just get a whole lot worse. Heaving a sigh, she threw back the covers and headed out.

Flim was curled up in the barn, huddled amongst the hay. He was staring at the wall tiredly, shivering, ears flicking to every slam. The rain was coming in, puddles forming over the floor and water in his grubby mane.
"Flim?"
He raised his head a little, looking over.
Applejack heaved a sigh. "You ought to come in, you'll get real sick out here."
Nodding, he managed to force himself to his feet. The mare had to help him into the house and even brought him up to her room instead of leaving him on the sofa. Against her better judgement, she helped the stallion into her own bed. He lay atop the covers and fell asleep almost instantly. Applejack sat and watched him, almost curious. Suddenly he seemed like a sleeping foal, curled up with his tail draped  across his  waist, hoof by his mouth, which was slightly open. Suddenly there was something so childlike and sweet about him.

He awoke shortly after, having to shift off his bad leg. They spoke about various things. Mainly their love for their siblings and happy memories. Childhood. Things they had in common. He reluctantly admitted he and his twin were homeless after their machine broke, and they were penniless for the time being with nothing to sell. Applejack shifted closer to him over time. He was cold and sick, and by the sounds of things, what little he'd had at the farm was the only food he'd had for a long while. Annoyingly, she felt sorry for him.

And when morning came, she woke up in his arms, cuddled up to him, and Flim's bright green eyes flickered open. At once, he jerked away.
"Oh my..."
"Did we...?" She shuffled to the other end of the bed, staring as the stallion scrambled to his feet, limping away.
"I...we...loathe as I would to appear to take advantage of such a lovely filly as yourself..." Everyone there hated him. Whether he liked her or not, it would never be safe for him to stay.
"You're leaving?"
"I have to find my brother. Anything could have happened to him. You heard what I said last night, about how much I care for him, we were in grave danger when we were separated...and there's the fact that your brother already wanted me dead and if he finds out about this..." Funny. The concern for Flam hadn't been there until he said that and suddenly realised how much trouble he could really be in. Part of him wanted to stay, but with Flam out there in grave danger and with him surrounded by hatred there, he couldn't possibly stay.

-----

Applejack plodded down the stairs sadly. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash followed, and as she reached the bottom, the party blowers went. "Surprise!"

Before her was a baby shower, all her friends and family and many loyal Apple Acres customers stood before her, with gifts for the little ones in her belly. There were even gifts from others unable to be there piled high on a table. It was overwhelming, the amount of people there. They all loved and appreciated Applejack and her life in Ponyville. Everyone gave their blessings and best wishes, and her friends gathered around her, doing their best to keep her spirits up. There was even a few towels on the table, with no label. A gift from Flim.

Slowly, she became more social. "I'm sorry I ignored y'all like that..."
"You were going through a tough time." Twilight replied softly. "We understand. We just wish we could have done more to help you."
"And we are sooooooo excited for your kids!" Pinkie squealed.
"You should see how excited to meet her niece or nephew Apple Bloom is." Rainbow interjected.
Applejack smiled. "I shouldn't have locked myself away like that..." It was a couple more months before her twins were due. Things were going back to normal, although Applejack wasn't allowed to buck apples or stress herself too much. Instead she busied herself arranging everything she had gotten for the baby into the right place for her and for the coming of the child. When she wasn't doing that, she was with her friends. One evening Rainbow Dash announced she and her partner were expecting, and she seemed none too pleased about it. Nothing much changed, really. She was back in quiet, uneventful Ponyville, right up until the end of those months that passed all to quickly.

It was a quiet night. A light shower drifted across Ponyville. Waters to quench the thirst of all the crops. She stared out the window, mind buzzing. Somewhere out there were Flim and Flam, and she had no way of knowing if they'd picked themselves back up again or not. They could be lying in a puddle in that storm, half-starved and desperate...

She shook her head quickly. There was no point thinking about it. He had probably lied about it all anyway. Besides, after all he'd done, he didn't deserve her pity. She moved, trying to get into a more comfortable position, but after a moment she couldn't ignore the pains in her belly. Quietly, she made her way over to Big Mac's room and shook him awake. "Mac? I need ya to take me to the hospital..." She wanted to keep it quiet.

In seconds, the entire family was rushing around, getting everything ready. As they rushed through the town, carting the pregnant Applejack behind her, they undoubtedly awoke the entire town. Well, aside from being in pain and having to give birth to the children of a sleazebag unicorn and then care for them as a single mother, everything was perfect. Her friends came to see her and help support her and all.

And then there they were, looking at golden brown fillies with ruby red manes and unicorn horns.
"Are they my nieces?" Apple Bloom asked excitedly.
"Eeyup."
Applejack sat beside her daughters. "These here are Apple Candy and Caramel Apple Cheesecake. My precious girls."
"Did you know they'd be unicorns?"
"I had a hunch..."
Rainbow Dash pitched the next question. "So did you know who the father was?"
Applejack hesitated a moment. "Eeyup."
"And he just left you?" Asked Rarity.
"Actually, I told him to go...his brother was missin' and I thought the rest of the town'd be none too pleasant..."

-----

"You have to go. I understand that."
"Applejack?"
"Flim."
"You're an absolutely wonderful mare. I'm sorry. For everything."
"I know. The others may not be so forgivin'. I don't want you gettin' hurt is all...you really ought'a go."
"Okay. There's a man you can always contact me through if you need to. Snappy Skimmer. He's an aquapony down in Mareazona. Somehow he always knows where to find my brother and I...if you ever need to find me..."
"I will. I got it."

Caro's Lost Cause

Hello. You see that girl over there? The one in high heels and the tight red dress, if it can even be called a dress. The Japanese one. That's me, Caro Lang, and yes, I'm in pain. It's funny, actually, how the world works. My home became unsafe so I had to flee. I didn't know where to go so I 'borrowed' this outfit and started selling myself just so I had enough money to eat. Yeah, it's just a little bit desperate, but c'est la vie.

A few years ago, I was a completely normal girl. Well, at least as normal as someone like me can be. I'm part of something called the Church of the Dakuchenjiringu. I think it translates to 'dark changeling'. Every member has the same tattoo on their chest. Every member is arranged to marry someone else, usually someone with a birthday around the same time. Apparently it makes us 'soul mates'. It's all pretty ridiculous.

Anyway, we're this cult that sort of believes our saviour is a shapeshifter with a tendency to drown people in darkness but it is waging war with vampires, who keep its power dampened. So the basics are kill all vampires, love and emotion is for the weak, as humans we are naught but a commodity, and oh, yes, almost forgot, if you violate laws of the church, to appease the dakuchenjiringu, you get your head lopped off.

Now excuse me, but I don't want to live my life like that. I was arranged to marry some snob named Pete Matthias. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to, and then I fell pregnant. You have to understand how much that made me panic. I was going to be decapitated! Pretty much cried every night. I was so, so scared, I couldn't sleep or eat, the walls were closing in, and I was afraid getting an abortion would just make everything worse. Then things got worse anyway. The father of the baby decided he didn't like me. I don't remember exactly what happened. He was throwing things at me while I was at the park, up a tree, and I lost my balance...and the baby...and he just...laughed...

It still haunts me. That smile on his face when he tore me apart like that, killed my baby, his own unborn child. He used to be so good looking and fun in my eyes, and suddenly he became a monster. And I was there in the middle, with this strange sense of loss. Suddenly I just really, really wanted a baby. I'd do anything to have a baby. I just needed someone willing to have unprotected sex with me.

That's where Caius Mackay came in. An absolutely amazing man, gorgeous, and he liked me. I didn't use him, mind you. I really liked him back. Things went as they did and eventually I fell pregnant once more and this time?

This time I ran. Into the streets, where nobody could find me. Nowhere was safe after that, because undoubtedly my picture would be shown around the church, and running away itself would be enough to sentence me to death, so...yeah.

And really the rest is history. I had no food, I stole some clothes, became a prostitute, got myself a little food, just about enough to sustain myself and the unholy bump, lost weight as quickly as I gained it...in the end I guess the bump made me look healthier. Less skinny and horrible. It helped hold the dress taut. And now I'm stood there in an alleyway in the middle of the night, surrounded by the blankets I sleep in on a cold Autumn evening, but I'm certainly not cold. I'm sweating like a pig, actually. I've been pretty much constantly hungry for the past few months, but I've managed to get myself a little something for my belly until these past three days...these past three I've just been in pain and hiding myself away because the hospitals aren't safe, any one of the people there could have that dreaded cult tattoo. I have to get all my clients to raise their shirts to prove they're not part of it, to prove they're not that dangerous, although I admit I've been beaten and robbed before. Finally I just drop. My legs give up and I end up on my backside. I don't have the energy for this! Caro Lang, dead to the world and lost to heaven. Undeserving of love and pity. I just want to sleep right now. Please just let me sleep. I don't want to have my baby now. I want Caius. I want my boyfriend. I want Caius.

Mason Holt's

Transcripts of recorded patient-doctor interviews conducted by Doctor Conrad Kolby, psychiatric and therapeutic doctor from Mason Holt's High Security Psychiatric Hospital.
-=Doctor
~=Patient


Patient Details
Full name: Willem Bernhard Floris Van Dael
Age: 19
Date of birth: 24/11/1993
Hair colour: brown
Eye colour: Brown
Height: 5'4
Additional: Brittle bone disorder, young father.
Interview No.: 1
-Willem? Can you tell me where you are? You seem unfocussed. Do you know where you are?

Willem? Look at me, Willem. My name is Doctor Kolby. I'm here to help.
~I'm lost.
-Lost? Lost where?
~I can't see anything, or hear anything...and everything smells of blood...
-Are you here often?
~I want to go home.
-I'm afraid you can't go home.
~It's too hot! Is there a window? A light? How can somewhere so dark be so warm?
-Do you know why you're here?
~...I killed Katrien.
-They think you're sick.
~They think a lot of things.
-What sort of things?
~They get inside my head. They think horrible things and spit them at me, but to everyone else, no-one is there.
-...Who are they?
~Dead people.
-Do you recognise them at all?
~I wish they were bluebirds...bluebirds would be nicer, right?
-I can't say for sure. Do you recognise these people?
~Yes
-Who are they?
~I can't say.
-Why can't you say, Willem?
~They'll kill me.
-You're safe here.
~I want to go!
-Willem, listen to me, you are perfectly safe here, okay?
~Please can I just go?
-If you must. First I just need to ask a few questions.
~Okay.
-You hear voices, right?
~Dead People.
-Including your daughter?
~The one I killed.
-So that's a yes?

What does she say to you, Willem?
~She's making me pay.
-For her death?
~She hates me for it...and she's lonely, so lonely. She's so lonely and scared and she wants her mum and dad!

Full name: John Lewis St Crow
Age: 22
Date of birth: 14/4/1991
Hair colour: Brown
Eye colour: Hazel
Height: 5'5
Additional: Right eye missing. Autistic. Orphan.
Interview no.: 1

-Morning, John.
~Good morning Doctor.
-What brings you to the Mason Holt?
~I'm listed as my father's next of kin, his only living relative. His fortune is mine.
-And why spend it here?
~Because I'm psychotic?
-You're not psychotic, John.
~I carry a knife, a knife that has actually killed in the past.
-Would you like to talk about that?
~Which one?
-Whichever comes to mind.
~...I was eight...no, younger...very cold...I lived outside...and there were people...people who saw what they thought was a helpless child and they tried to sexually abuse me...so I stabbed them with a kitchen knife. Doctor?
-Yes?
~I want you to be entirely truthful with me and tell me how that isn't psychotic.
-You acted in self defence, you only wanted to protect yourself.
~I'm not the one who needs protecting. They are.
-Do you ever see yourself as a protector or an innocent? Maybe a victim?

John?
~Once or twice.
-Care to elaborate?
~I used to have a daughter. She died. Arson.
-I see. And having her, you felt like her protector?
~I lost her. I failed. I failed my second daughter as well, she's dead too.
-I'm so sorry to hear that.
~I just want a happy, healthy daughter cruellest fates won't take from me.
-I understand that.
~Do you have children, Doctor?
-No, not yet.
~You're a lot older than me.
-Does that mean something?
~It makes you harder to trust.
-How so?
~I've been attacked by many older men.
-Attacked?
~Attacked, robbed, raped, shot at by...
-Would you like to talk about that?
~No.
-Why not?
~It's a sensitive subject and it upsets me.
-Of course. But the point of these sessions you yourself are paying for is that you can work through these tough experiences, and you'll have to talk about them at some point.
~I know, Doctor.
-Would you like to go back to your room, John?
~Can I go watch television? I would much rather watch television.
-That should be fine, John. Can I just say something?
~Yes?
-You seem very jittery.
~The guards took my knife.
-It's a dangerous weapon and the people here are dangerous people.
~I need my knife.
-No you don't.
~I need it.
-Why?
~It makes me feel safe.
-I'm sorry, it's too dangerous, John.
~I need it! Give it back! Give me my fucking knife! I need my knife! I need it!
-Calm down.
~I need my fucking knife! I'm not safe without it!
-I can assure you that you are perfectly safe, John.
~No you can't! You're lying! That knife has saved my life countless times and I need it!
-Saved your life?
~The knife! Where is my knife?
-Can I have security in here please?
~I need my knife, I need it! Now!
-Sedate him.

Patient Name: Henry Donald Heathcliffe
Age: 28
Date of Birth: 25/03/1986
Hair Colour: Brown
Eye Colour: Brown
Height: 5'9
Additional: -
Interview No: 1

~I remember being in the kitchen. My wife and I was talking normally, chatting along and all. It was a nice memory. We were joking, and laughing, and happy, and I put down my mug, and she suddenly...lost it...Her palms snapped against my chest and pushed and I lost my footing and fell...I cracked my jaw off the corner of the counter and she ran off...and to this day I have no idea why she was angry at me.
-Did your wife hit you often?
~Quite often...I could have defended myself or hit back, but the one time I did everyone berated me for being a wife beater...
-Double standards, Henry. They're everywhere in this world, unfortunately. Some things are strangely acceptable for girls to do to boys but not the other way around. Socially speaking, that is. I don't think she was right to do that.
~I should have just...accepted it.
-No, Henry, nobody should have to live with abuse.
~I've had this shit since I was a kid though.
-No wonder you couldn't take it any more.
~It would happen a lot though. Everything would be normal, I would annoy her and she would lose it and hit me and I would have no clue what I'd done wrong. She could be so violent, but she was the first person to show me love. The first person to make me happy. I had to put up with it, or I'd lose that happiness.
-It sounds to me like she isn't the only problem.
~No...Asia was abusive, yeah, but she was latest in a long line.
-Was there abuse in your childhood?
~...A little...
-A little?
~My dad was drunk a lot...
-And where was your mother?
~She was an artist. She travelled.
-How often?
~I barely saw her.
-I see. Did you resent not having a mother figure?
~I...I guess so...
-Hmm...what kind of things did your father do?
~Just shout and hit.
-And is that all your wife did?
~Asia could sometimes be a bit nasty...
-And did you resent her?
~No, I loved her.
-Why?
~Why does anyone love anyone?
-What did you like about Asia?
~She was always a lovely girl. Always able to offer a kind word and warm smile, and so beautiful. I don't understand why she would turn around and hit me.
-Some people don't have everything aligned right in their heads.
~It was...painful...in more ways than one.
-I understand, Henry, I really do.
~You've never been through this though.
-But I've seen a lot of pain in my time, and I understand how awful it must be for you.
~You really don't, because I love her and I never want to be apart from her.
-But you are apart from her.
~It's not my fault, she was hurting me first, I did it in self-defence...
-I know, I know. I'm here to help you work through it all. Don't worry, Henry, I'm not here to judge, just to help you.

Brothers Of The Crab

My name is Balthasar.
I'm Bendix.
We're twins. Well, triplets, but Brieta doesn't...she died.
Leukaemia...
Which is what I have now.
We decided to share this journal for future ...stuff...
Yeah, stuff.
Stuff is a good enough word.

Most people wouldn't guess us as twins.
No, I'm skinny and brunette and punky, and he's a nerdy, fatty blond. We both have the same hazel eyes though.
Our mum's hazel eyes. Like gold, they are.
Our best feature.
We have a little sister too. Alithia. Darling.
Bit of a slut.
Bally!
It's true! She always wears those slut clothes and sleeps with boys and then claims she's eternally faithful to that David bloke. Don't know who she thinks she's fooling.
Be nice, please. This isn't even about her. It's for future generations, from us, about us, so any future kids of ours will know who we were.
I'm not having kids.
You might do.
Bendix, I am dying after this year, I'm not going to raise any babies in that time.
...I have a girlfriend at the moment, named Rachie.
My girl's called Mysti. She's a babe.
Mine's an absolute darling.
She likes when I make her flower crowns.
Bally isn't that much of a punk. He loves making flower jewellery and he's camp as hell.
Shut up.
You are though.
I'm also awesome.
Most people at school think he's gay.
They think you're gay too, don't act so smug.

Benny's asleep now. I can't sleep because it hurts too much (apologies for any wet splotches on the paper, it really does hurt and I can't turn the light on without waking the others up, so I can't get my painkillers.) so I will talk.

My full name is Balthasar Dalton Grayson Johnnie Milan Gammaleil if you ever want to look me up. Ben's is Bendix Graham Geoffrey Finn Tariq Gammaleil. Those names aren't going to change, so you enjoy their weird, slightly toxic splendour. So let me tell you a bit about myself.
I am the son of Taryn Gammaleil and some unknown guy who we think has brown hair, because mum is ginger, like Alithia. We were born when mummy was 16, but conceived a year earlier. Yeah, it lasted over new years, I mean. She gave birth to three babies. Big, fat Benny was first, then slender, fabulous me, and finally our sister, Brieta. I don't remember much about Brieta, because she died when we were two, and Alithia was one. Mum was really cut up about it. Like, really cut up. Like, proper howling tears.

She treated us all extra well for a while, just showering us with love. It was back to two boys and one girl. And I started loving the love and wanting all the pretty girly things that Ally got, and in the end mum got so sick of me fighting her for Barbie dolls and jewellery makers that she bought me some of my own, and I was elated. Hey, it's not like it's damaging. I turned out alright, and girl toys didn't turn me gay. I'm in a very happy relationship...with the girl who's always scared because she knows I'm dying...

Thing is, watching Brieta gradually worsen despite treatment, watching the treatment make her worse, it effected mum so badly...I remembered her face and I remembered that photo in her room of a little bald girl, sleeping, but looking already dead. So when the doctor came back to us, solemn faced and grey, and said 'Balthasar, it's bad news, I'm afraid you have Leukaemia' I stood up and said 'I refuse treatment'.

I really wish he'd never said that. At least with treatment he'd have had a chance. Yes, he feels his hair is a huge part of who he is, jes   yes, he hates showing pain and weaknes, and he hates being made week but he could have...just...please...given himself a chance to live...

I get awfully tearful thinking about this, because I've known Bally all our lives, and hhe's been one of my best friends

God, sorry for all the mistaes mistakes...I'm panicking, writing this really fast, I'm sorry, I'm just really upset. Ech. I go to a boarding school, quite expensive. Unisex. Rachie and Mysti go there too.

Dear diary, I have a bucket list. I will cross out each one as I manage it.
Make sure Ben knows I love him despite all the mean things I do.
Hold an infant
Get a dog
Have sex (yes I'm a virgin, deal with it)
Take Mysti out on a night she'll never forget.
Get on TV
Go sky diving
Go deep sea diving
Win a nobel prize
Travel
Learn a new language.
RIDE A HORSE!!!
Climb a mountain
Hot air balloon
Perform!
Dance barefoot in the rain
See the northern lights
See an eclipse
Stargaze
Grow a tree from scratch
Biggest party ever
Get drunk off wine
Play violin
Learn salsa dance
Learn Muay Thai
Road trip
Swim with dolphins
Learn to knit
Cook
Make a shit tonne of origami cranes for people
Meditate
See Japanese cheerrry blossoms.
Hit a bullseye
See a volcano
Fly in a helicopter
Meet a celebrity
Learn sign language

Those are my plans and it's going to be perfect. I'm going to do each and every one of those things (although obviously I have to do some when I'm not at boarding school )

He's never going to manage it all. Without treatment he won't even last to the end of the year.

Oh my god, nobody ever told me what sex was like. It was so awkward and weird and it didn't even last long, and I think she just found it painful, but at the same time it was like...the best thing ever...

Can you not fill this book with awkward porn?
You're just sour because you're too fat for people to want to fuck.
You may be dying but that doesn't mean I won't jump you and beat the ever loving crap out of you.

I'm thinking, anything Bally doesn't manage on that list, I'll do in his honour.

Benny's so sweet. I hope he's able to be there for the others when this is over.
Our little Ally just had a baby, by the way...she's 16...but yeah, so I got to hold that infant too!

Bally's started getting symptoms that show the cancer's spread to his spine and brain. Headaches, seizures, confusion...it's getting so scary.

My girlfriend's boobs have gotten bigger.

...He's a charming one, but like I said, confused.

No, they really have! Like, what if she's pregnant? I mean, we've had it off a few times, totally uninterrupted, she's not had a period in ages and her boobs are bigger.

We've been silent in this thing for quite a while-not that it will show. every time it's more than a day past, we just start a new paragraph.
It's been a month. I woke up this morning and the air felt really thick and cold. I sat up and grabbed my glasses and the boys I shared a dormitory with were crowded around my brother's bed. I started crying before I even understood. He got up, went over and pushed through, and this boy, Raphael, he has the bed next to Bally's, tried to tell me before I put my hand to his face. It was cool, but not cold. He was a bit stiff, but not very. Felix went to get a teacher. He died in his sleep, peacefully I assume.

It was a stroke that took him in the end. A stroke of all things.

I saw Mysti in the hospital wing today. I'd broken a wrist playing rrugby, trying to get my mind clear, and there she was, bandaged up and looking sick and in tears. I went to talk to her and she dropped the bombshell. If you, my nephew or niece, are holding this book, Balthasar was right. A few cheap rounds with his girlfriend and she was expecting.

I don't want to write in this any more. It hurts too much because I see Bally's writing. I'm helping Mysti with her problems. I can't do much for Raphael and Felix, who slept beside Bally every night and who were first to find him gone. He'd have liked this. He'd have loved his child if he ever met it, I'm sure. I don't know if it will be a boy or girl yet. It might even be a twin. I would love it if it were mine.

She had a son. She named him Balthasar, after his biological father.

Monday, I found a copy of Bally's will. I'll stick it in.

The last will and testament of Balthasar Dalton Grayson Johnnie Milan Gammaleil.
This is the fiinal wishes of the above mentioned on the occasion of his death.

To my mother, Taryn Gammaleil, I leave my love, and ever photo of me and my siblings I own.
To my brother, Bendix, I leave my money (£7:63 in cash) and the puppy he bought me for my last birthday.
For my baby sister, Alithia, and all her five kids, I leave £7.63 from my bank account, and the following toys: White and brown chubby dog, blonde doll, lamb, teddy with pink ribbon, everything in that box in the attic...that junk.
To my love, Mysti, I leave the remaining £18.63 in my bank account and a collection of baby books I keep in my room, and all my jewellery, rings, bracelets, piercings and all.
To Felix and Ellis, my best friends, I leave all the alcohol under my bed, and my pack of morphine, and all my zombie apocalypse books.
All my remaining toys go to any future infant relatives I may have. I'm sure they'll love the bunnies and the birdies and the dinosaurs and dollies and whatnot. That's any future kids of Ali's or Ben's.

Sighnd: Balthasar D. Gammaleil.

Life is an interesting venture. You're born just to struggle through a 'life' made meaningless by society and government, and then you die. I don't really understand it. There isn't a point to anyone's life. We're all just lambs to the slaughter. So here I am, stood at a grave, just...crying. My brother was a real romantic when he was alive. He gave his girlfriend gold-plated roses, so they wouldn't wilt away. He would do just about anything to make her feel loved. I don't have that talent. I'm awkward around girls, and unattractive, and overweight, and when I'm with my girlfriend I never know how to act because in all my years, she's my first and I'm worried I'll fuck it up. In the end that worry's been my downfall. I'm not confident and Rachie broke up with me...I finish school this year and now all I have to struggle on for are my nephews and nieces and I hate it.

Update. Rachie thought I was cheating on her because I was helping Mysti with my nephew. That is just fucking disgusting. She's effectively my sister for god's sake! I still really like Rachie though, but this is just...she seems to think any time I speak to another girl, I'm secretly fucking her. I'm not sure if it's worth staying in this relationship or not.

Update. I decided not.

Every weekend I'm at my brother's grave, telling this junk to thin air as though Bally himself were here, listening to every word I said with that same mocking smirk he always wore. I wish I could hear him making comments. I wish he was here.

I miss him. I'm no good at dealing with death. I can hide my emotion until I'm alone and in private though. I guess that's my only real talent.

You're never truly alone. I'm here for you, always.
Bally sr.
PS, miss you too, Benny.

My Last Goodbye

My name is Icarus. When you read this letter, I will be dead, my struggles finally over.

I, Icarus Aggamemnon Swithun, being of sound body and completely twisted mind, hereby bequeath my share of the manor and fortune I will have inherited upon turning 18 to my twin brother, Sarenza, and my daughter Alaska and her mother, Amy Foxe. Before I go on to the next life, I have a few requests to make.

Firstly, Amy, take care of Alaska. Please don't let her lose us both. I know you would not have wanted me around her anyway after what I have done, but I still love you both enough to wish you a happy life. The fact is, after causing the death of another, I can never live with myself. Just please know it really is not your fault. It was not the arguments that caused this, rather my own memories and thoughts, and the knowledge of exactly what my family is becoming associated with as more and more killings happen at their hands. It is the family's fault, not yours. Do not blame yourself, as I know you will.

My brother, Sarenza. You have a life ahead of you, worth far more than mine will ever be. Do not throw it away on the blade of a knife. I love you, and you are precious, but sickly. You must get your depression under control, succeed where I have failed.

My uncle Tom and his madness draw ever closer like a noose, cutting off all air. If he gets me and drags me back into this spiral once more, I may not be able to stop myself becoming like him. He has sent me a letter and I found myself agreeing with his words, but rather than become a monster, I would rather die.

This has been a long time coming, especially with all of the suicide attempts of those around me and the deaths of my mother and my Uncle Killian, for falling in love with another man, and recently myself causing a girl to die. It has had to happen, as clearly my mind and sanity are disintegrating, and I cannot allow myself to hurt anyone else. It could be someone very close next, and I do not think I could handle it. Therefore, I must die, for the sake of others.

To make sure I cannot fail in this sacred duty, my self-sacrifice for the sake of the lives of all around me, I will take extra measures. As such you will find me only by breaking the lock of the bedroom door, which you would have to to even get to this letter, then I will be hung, throat and wrists slashed, belly full of caustic soda.

Monsters like me must be stopped.

Yours in good will and faith, Icarus Swithun.

Just please remember, I love you all, and I will always love you.

No matter what you say to me, Amy, you will never be the one to drive me over the edge. You and Ally are my girls. I love you.

Viktor Yukovic: Into Oblivion

This piece is because of an old story about two boys who were dating, and comforting each other because they had had a bad day. This piece is part of a continuing series that looks at the students in the same class as the boys.

"You are the light in my life." He told me softly as he shook up the bottles. "And now you will be my light for eternity."
I nodded, going along with it. It was my idea. "Romeo to your Juliet?" I asked, chewing on some of my hair.
Robby grinned and nodded. "You're adorable, Vicky."
My name is Viktor Yukovic. I'm from a Czech family. I'm eighteen, in my last year of secondary school, and I am sad. So very, very sad. Family have recently died in a road traffic accident. My only friend in the world is my boyfriend, Robby.

He is holding two large bottles. Litre bottles of vodka. "Will it work?" I ask. He stares intently into a bottle. Another egg hits the window and I whimper. The arseholes around this town who never leave me alone for who I am. They hate us both so much they wouldn't care if we died today.
Robin nods. "Five different lethal substances mixed in with vodka. If the five poisons don't work, a litre of vodka will."
"Can that kill you then?"
"Half a litre can. You just have to down it, don't mind the taste, just keep drinking until it runs dry."
I nodded, tears in my eyes. Loren and his gang are outside the window. My bin is full of death threats. I can't take it. I've tried everything to avoid reality, but it isn't working. It never had a chance. I took my bottle and unscrewed the lid. "On three?"
"On three."

Maybe a little background is needed. I am in love with Robin, but the boys in our school despise us for it, for being gay. Robin's family threw him out and disowned him. The other boys at school, especially Loren, Domingo, Terrance, Bernard and Juan, they're awful. The constant harassment, threats, beatings, chasings, muggings, teasings, the isolation, names they call us, horrible things they do and say we deserve...

My family always told me to just suck it up. All of them did, because they've never been threatened with rape and death by classmates. No matter how many numbers I block or how many social network accounts I delete, they still get them to me. Taped to the inside of my locker, in my shoes, on my seat, slid under the doors of bathroom stalls. I'm not sure if Robby gets these too or not. No-one I tell takes it seriously. They say I should stop telling tales or crying over nothing. No one believes me. No one cares. No one but Robby.

So if nothing can be done, we'll take the only action we feel is left to us.
"One," I whisper, raising the bottle.
"Two," Robby continued, taking a deep breath.
"Three." I lifted the bottle to my mouth and tried not to gag at the taste of alcohol and chemicals. I did as told, doing my best to drink down all of it. Robby failed, turning to throw up over my pristine white carpet. He then fell off the bed, clutching his stomach. Halfway through. There was an awful pain in my own belly, and I knew I was going to be sick soon as well. My vision starts clouding over, and I see Robby's hand twitching violently. I drop the bottle and crawl to him. He appears unconscious and is having a seizure. I drop to his side, stroke his hair with clumsy hands. I fall, joining him in lying in a puddle of vomit, add a little of my own to the puddle and weakly attempt to cuddle him. My last loving action to my love.

Entering the darkness is like falling out of bed. Quick, and ending with a whumph of air. Then all is dark and cold and even the feeling of Robin is gone, his twitching form out of my arms.

My name was Viktor Kazimir Leos Yukovic. I lived to eighteen years old. I died from ingesting lethal substances with my boyfriend, because the rejection we faced was too much for us. I'll never know if I made the right choice, but I died in the arms of my lover, and now sit in the realms of oblivion.

St Crow to Clifford

My name is John Louis Martin St Crow-Baker-Blatt-Langdon-Phineas-many other surnames. All my life I've passed between families, the unwanted child, the one no-one could deal with or love. You want to know the one thing I've always wanted? It was to know who my mother was. I knew my father killed her. I knew her name had been Linda. I looked up school records from all over the country to find a Linda who looked a little bit like me, and as I reached adulthood, I found an old newspaper from the year I was born detailing the murder of a Linda Clifford. I came across this piece after abandoning my search, forming a family of my own. I found it doing cleaning and the picture of the woman with untamed brown hair, high cheekbones, cleft chin, lobed ears...the other half of me.

Linda Clifford

Singer and actress. Not who I wanted.

Linda Clifford Murder Case

First search result. I had a new anger burning inside me. My second daughter had died. Maisie had been attacked by a dog and transfused with the wrong blood type, and she had died. I was in a low and slightly desperate place. Penny, my wife, was worried about me. I wasn't coming to bed. I was spending all night and day at that computer, trying to find out more about Linda Clifford. She was the one, found with a newborn infant upon death, pregnant through sexual assault, and slowly as I found out more information, where she was found, leading to where she had lived, leading to schools in that area, leading to known family, and eventually finding out where they lived...I placed a hand over my mouth as I realised exactly what I had now.

Linda had an older brother. Matthew lived to the south, a two hour drive away. Not too far for meeting the family you never had but have always wanted. I didn't call to say I was coming round. I didn't even tell Penny I was going out, just left under cover of darkness and waited outside Matthew Clifford's house until the morning. When I was sure it was a decent time to call, I went up and rung the doorbell.

Matthew had a blog on the internet, wanting to unravel the mystery around his sister. Neither her rapist nor her killer were ever caught...at least, not until I caused the death of Michal St Crow...I would never know who snapped her neck though. Normally I kept up a pretence that I was strong as nails and never fazed, but it still took a long time for me to gather the courage to knock on the door. Once I did, there was no going back, and then the door opened and there stood a man in his forties or fifties, at least 20 years older than me for sure. He gave me a look, scrutinising me. He was shorter than me, but larger, more muscular. He was staring at my eyepatch, and I squirmed in discomfort.
"Can I help you?"
"...Matt Clifford?"
"Yeah? You are?"
"My name's John...I'm here to talk about Linda..."
Matt narrowed his eyes. I had barely turned 26 and he clearly didn't think I had anything of use, as young as I was. "Linda was before your time." He said, going to close the door. I stuck my foot in the doorway, and it hurt. Matt sure was desperate to get it closed.
"Please, just hear me out! I'm positive that Linda was my mother!" The pressure on my foot was relieved and I dropped down to try rub the pain away and Matt glared at me. "Fuck off."
"There was a newspaper, the year I was born, she died the day I was born...she was found with a baby boy...I met my father, I know I was born from him assaulting a woman called Linda..."
"You know who-?"
"Michal St Crow, the weird scientist business man who was murdered by a seven-year-old." Matt helped me up.
"Oh yeah, that psycho...he was trying to kill the kid, wasn't he?"
"Because he was 'proof of his crimes', yes." I decided not to say that I was the child in question.
"What do you want?" Matt asked, scowling.
"...To get to know my family...you're my uncle."
"You have no proof we're related."
"Look, I've wanted to meet my family my whole life, I'll go to any means to get proof."
"Oh Jesus, get a girlfriend or something, get a life!"
I stepped back, hanging my head. "I don't need a girlfriend, Mr Clifford. I'm married. I just want to know my family."
"I feel very sorry for your poor wife."
"I never had a stable family is all...it would be wonderful to meet my real family...just for a day..." Plus breakfast with Uncle Matt wouldn't go amiss, I thought as my stomach growled. Matt glared.
"Go away."
"This isn't going well."
"How did you expect it to go?"
I reached into my wallet and brought out two photographs. One of a dark-skinned man with hazel eyes and my nose and mouth, and one of a teenage girl with my cheek bones and ears, and untamed brown hair. I handed them both to Matt. "For comparison." I told him. He seemed to tear up at the sight of his little sister.
"She was murdered naked in the streets with a new born baby in her arms by a monster."
"I don't know who the murderer was, just the initial rapist. I wish I could be of more help, Mr Clifford."
He compared the photographs to me and sighed. "What did you say your name was?"
"John."
"John, you understand I can't just welcome you in with open arms."
"Honestly, sir, I'm just glad I know where I come from now."
"So how did you find us?"
"I do a lot of research. Linda was the name of the only one of Michal's victims he didn't kill himself. That Linda probably lived within the area. I knew she died the day I was born, so I looked up obituaries for my birthday, found a couple of Lindas and did some research." I trailed off as I realised maybe he didn't care about all that. And then the dreaded moment came. For all his suspicions, Matt was drawn to asking about the scars.
"What's with the eye patch?"
"It covers an injury."
"What injury?"
I was so distrusting of people who kept secrets that I told people everything about me, even though I didn't trust them. "Somebody shot me in the eye."
"You know who?"
"Michal St Crow."
"And what happened to your hands?"
"Fire damage."
"Fire?"
"House fire." I didn't want to speak any more because my throat was closing up and my eye was stinging and I knew that in a few seconds I'd be in tears on this man's doorstep.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Terrible memories."
"Oh yeah?" His voice finally softened. I don't think he was actually asking me to explain, but still it spilt forth.
"I'm a terrible person! Whenever I try to help someone or care for someone, somebody dies!" Yup, that was me, breaking down, and Matt guided me in and set me down on the sofa and went to make some coffee. There was a moment where he argued with a woman, evidently his wife, and someone walked in and then back out again, and slowly I calmed down. I peeked between my fingers and there stood a poster woman for plastic surgery. Apparently my Aunt Fiona. How Matt could deal with a woman like that I would never know. I closed my fingers, refusing to meet her eyes.
"Whatever your game is, stop it now."
I looked up. "He asked about my burn scars." I said in no more than a whisper.
"You came here with some cock and bull about being our nephew?"
"My name's John."
"I don't care."
I looked around, wiping my eye. "I did a lot of research, and it led me to Matthew's blog. If I'm wrong, so be it, prove me wrong and I will never come here again." I bowed my head, not wanting to look at this girl. Woman. Piece of living plastic. Whatever. Matt came back out and offered me a cup of coffee, which I gratefully accepted.
"You okay?" He asked after a moment.
"Yeah...just, the fire's a really bad memory..." I closed my eye and saw a small body, burnt to a crisp. With a gasp I snapped my eye open. Do not think about Agnes. The eye closed again and instead was the dog-mangled body of Maisie. "No..." I whined, gripping my head with my free hand. All I could see. Brook's body when giving birth had proved too much. Michal St Crow, eyes full of madness as his fingers closed around my throat. Matt's hand was suddenly on my shoulder and I just...sobbed...and told him everything. From the abusive foster carer to the violent old perverts on the streets, to Michal St Crow and his trigger-happy fingers, to dealing with the lost eye. Finally, Brook and Agnes, Penny and Maisie. All of it. All too much, and I spilt it all, spilt my heart  out, to this man I was certain was my uncle, and he looked at me for a long time before speaking and handing me a tissue.
"To have survived all that...you're a strong man, John. Linda was strong too. You clearly take after her."

Save Our Souls

Quent:
There were seven of us, in the beginning. Seven in the womb at once, seven brothers and sisters, but only five of us made it through birth. Caesarean. Seven very small babies, pulled from the opened stomach of a screaming girl. Our father stood beside her as long as he could, trying to help her through, standing by to see if his children were okay.

I wonder what Christine and Jessica would have been like if they had survived. I had my two surviving brothers and my two surviving sisters, and then I found out about those two. They might have been blonde, like Uncle Gunther. They might have been like one of us five or something completely different.

Our father took drugs, but he so wanted to be there for us. I could see him struggling at times, trying to give up his habits, go cold turkey, for his family.

They had a lot of children after us, after the septuplets. We were known as the Famous Five at school. Fourteen little brothers and sisters, and now we're barely into adulthood. Our father died before the last one was born. He had appendicitis, but he barely knew he was sick until he collapsed in the street one day. Mother died in labour with the youngest, Eunice. She bled out, and the doctors stood by and did nothing. We had to raise the little ones, so we all stuck around.

Then we were running out of money, but we were still at school. We...Carol and Allison dropped out to look after the little ones, but by the end of my last year at school, Allison was dead. Some kind of organ failure. We got home and found out they had been letting the little ones go hungry. There was no money and no more food, and soon all the bills would have to be paid. I came home from a safe haven and found myself in a cess pit of desperation. We had to find a job, but several days of no food later and we still had nothing. Then Carol got a job. Carol would go out every night and come back around midday with a few packs of biscuits or something. Hardly a feast, but a single chocolate digestive was better than an empty stomach with nothing to digest.

Something was getting to me. One of the little ones was sick. This life would be the doom of us all. This poverty cycle. Distractions caused bad grades, bad grades meant bad or no jobs, and that meant more distraction for the little ones.

I got talking to someone. The others say she isn't there. Her name is Fiona, and she's my girlfriend, and I hate when they tell me she isn't really there. She's a little overweight, not starved by circumstance, meaning she has a decent amount of money. Her skin is cream coloured and soft, and her hair blonde and pulled back in a bun. She looks fairly average, I like her for her personality, and her eyes are beautiful, sea green. Fiona is the most amazing person ever. She comforts me when I'm upset (but I have yet to see her upset), keeps me from starving, acts almost like a guardian angel.

And she tells me about my brother, Carol. She tells me he is a fake. He is lying. He doesn't have a job, he's getting this money through bad means. Bartering with bad people or selling himself, something horrible like that. I don't trust Carol. I only trust myself and Fiona, because Fiona doesn't talk to anyone else. She only has time for me, and is always there to comfort me when I need it most. And unlike the others, she has never lied, or told me someone close to me doesn't exist. She has taught me to be sneaky, listen in on conversations, learn the secrets. I will learn the secrets.

Carol:
The closest brother I had was Allison. We were identical. Our whole lives we were the same, and we liked being the same.

The leather jacket and trousers that, had I been a decent weight, would have been tight, were his before they were mine.

I wait until night fall and go out to the pubs, the red light district and stand on a corner with a sign that makes it clear I'm looking for customers. My ginger hair is slicked back, my jacket hangs open even though my torso is hardly a pretty sight. All skin and bone, sunken stomach and protruding ribs and pelvis. I don't have any fat in my cheeks. I already look pretty much dead. It's cold and, scantily dressed as I am, I find it hard to stop from shivering. A man comes over, drunk and singing, and I do my best to look appealing. Starved as I am, my appearance makes most walk on, but when all the other prostitutes are gone and a man wants some fun, or a girl on her hen night wants a good shag before dedicating her life to one man, I get my lucky break. I lie on a bed in a cheap inn and do what they want, whether it's thrusting or sucking, or just lying there while they do the deed. I don't earn much, but I can buy a little food for the family and hope it stretches for more than five seconds.

I don't eat with them. Everyone else eats, and I don't have so much as one bite until I know everyone else has eaten. Usually it doesn't even stretch as far as to feed seven kids. I haven't eaten for a few days now and I feel faint, and ever so sick. The only thing I've had in my belly these past days is water and another man's semen. Not pleasant. Not in any way.

The thing is, someone else needs to get a job, and urgently. Not only are we still starving, but I can't do this much longer. I can't tell them, I'm too afraid, but I've caught things. Clients in the past who were marked with STIs, and I just left it even when I knew I was sick. When the STIs began to show, I lost a lot of clients. It couldn't be over, though. I had a family to feed.

When I was starved, couldn't take it any more, I would rifle through bins for a little breakfast for myself. When the period of not even the nastiest clients coming loomed over us, I had to go through bins for food for all of us, which unfortunately meant coming come with apple cores, rotting food and banana peel and saying it was the best I could do.

Everything went downhill fast. The Syphilis advanced, meeting no resistance as it coursed through my already weakened body, and when I finally went to the doctors, because the last time I had gone to the bathroom I had excreted blood, I found I had left it too long. Broken heart, dicky kidneys, out liver, the works. I kept on like normal, or what was normal for us. As things get worse and worse, I realise something scary. I'm dying, and they have to be told eventually.

I was convinced by a friend to tell them a week before...something dreadful happened...they didn't take it well.

Things got worse, and I got worse. Cerelie had begun to refuse to leave her room, and Quent would only talk to people who weren't there or Janthine. I had started vomiting blood as well as peeing it, and, feeling so weak and sickly, ended up confined to the sofa. The bed was a little out of my league, as younger siblings still had to sleep there. Quent had to be moved to a room separate from the others because he was getting violent. He was sometimes shut in with me, and that was terrifying, but usually Jan guided him to the kitchen and sat him on the broken dishwasher, soothing him.

Without any income, with me too sick to even stand, they ran out of money, and out of food. When we lost power, I became accustomed to the dark and now I don't like having the living room light on. I don't know where they get food from, but I can hear Janthine and Cerelie debating. There's enough for one kid, perhaps, and they have to choose who to feed, who is in most need. That is where the proof lies. The proof that the Fosters are at the lowest of the low now. I try to lift myself up, to try and help, but I just flop back down and empty my stomach into a waiting bucket. Heh. Just water and blood. I have a nephew now, and between times I've been too sick to leave my space, I have gone out and tried to earn my keep the same old way, and I've brought something in. And now I lie here, breath rattling in my throat, dry as sandpaper, pale as a ghost. In my weak state I welcome the darkness as an old friend as I get some relief from the pain. A moment of numbness, and I can't think. I can just slip away into the caress of the night.

Cerelie:
When we have no money, I got involved with a boy. This was back when Carol was...not puking blood. I can't say healthy, I don't think any of us were ever healthy.

In school, I was branded to have an attitude problem. When things started to go so downhill the years after, I met with a boy who, at school, I had hardly spoken to. His name was Henry, and I let myself fall into his arms. It was a trap. A honey trap. It was exciting. When I went to his place, I had food and water, and somewhere to warm my feet and wash my body, and he saw me like a pet when I went through that little routine. And then Henry would lead me up to his bedroom, carefully undress my skeletal frame while I undress his far more substantial body, and he would grab my legs, swinging me up into his arms before slipping me into the bed beside him and straddling my bony hips, leaning down to kiss my lips. His fingers entwine with my fiery red hair and brush across my cheek, neck, breast. He lowers himself down and slowly, gently as he can, places himself inside me. Movement, slow and rhythmic, before the pace quickens, the pleasure begins, the passion rockets into the sky in a glorious haze and noises, deep and guttural, of longing and love, passion and pleasure, moans that tell the world we are a perfect match, echo around the room.

Then it is over. I am sweating, it was warm. The sweat cools me down too fast, and I shiver as I get up and find my clothes, despite his objections. I have to leave, get home before the family get suspicious. He offers financial help, but I fear becoming indebted to him. I refuse it politely, explain and say I must get home, and then I leave. Out into the cold streets, my body feeling sore. Home, my brain caught between high and low, shifting with every step like a seesaw. It was good, but it was bad. Henry used to date my sister, Janthine. Henry had money this family needed, but would never be able to pay back.

Carol is sick. My period is late, but I assume it is because I haven't eaten properly. We know he is a prostitute, even though he tries to hide it. Janthine wants to get a job, but she has nerve troubles with her leg and is finding it difficult to cope. I want to find a job, but my bad attitude and bad grades speak against me. I am hungry, and then I feel sick.

I argue with one of the little ones. Upset, I storm out of the house with nowhere to go unless I go to Henry's. That is how I found out I was just a game. He had a whole collection of girls. He only kept on the best at pleasure. I was nothing more than a sex toy to him. Floods of tears pour from my eyes and I don't go home that night. I sleep down an alleyway, eating cardboard. Don't judge, desperate times mean desperate measures.

I don't realise until, getting dressed one morning, I see a slight bump beneath my waistband. I haven't had a period twice in a row now, but I had still been putting it down to the distinct lack of diet. I snuck out of the house that morning, down to a chemist, and stole a pregnancy test. It came back positive. Positive. There were eighteen people in this house already, and they did not need me making more members. Further more, I was surprised it was still alive. Like, I've been starving. I thought I would miscarry babies by now.

I kept it quiet. Carol wasn't working at all any more, and I hadn't left my room all week apart from to steal that. I must have been coming up to three months now?

I went to a coffee bar when the third month arrived. I hadn't yet had it die on me, and there I found a girl who had been friends with all the famous five, as we used to be known. She got my situation out of me, gave me some food for the family even though she herself was struggling, and I didn't want that...after my month locked away, I'd changed. I didn't want Carol to die. It had hit me so hard. I didn't have that attitude any more. Now what I had was a nervous stutter and the ability to burst into tears every five seconds. Cassie bought me maternity clothes and pregnancy vitamins, because I didn't want my baby to die. At first I had been hoping I would miscarry, but now I was scared.

I passed the first trimester, and Cassie kept helping us. I wore baggier clothes as I grew and grew, gaining weight despite how little I ate. When I was pregnant, I was always hungry. In the second trimester, the morning sickness started, and I had trouble keeping anything down. The cravings were nuts. I found myself craving shoes and had already started chewing on my pink pumps before I realised what was going on. I ended up anaemic. The amount of iron I was taking killed. Cassie had beaten up Henry for not helping in any way, but I hadn't wanted his help anyway. I just wanted my baby.

By the time it was a real struggle to hide it, I felt exhausted. I was tired, both from the anaemia and general pregnancy. I can feel it move and it's wonderful, but scary. I'm going to have a baby, even though I live with all my siblings in major poverty. A baby. A child of my own, my own creation, and...and I've been in tears before, thinking about it.

When baby starts kicking, the kicks are weak. Weaker than most babies should be. I haven't eaten for a couple of days, because Carol's getting better and I still haven't told my family I'm pregnant, so Jan decided we had to focus food stores on nursing him back to health. I go round Cassie's house for some food, and we talk a moment about the baby.

Carol was up and walking around, playing with the little ones, but looking paler than ever. He looks like a gentle breeze could pull him down. At one point he came to the bedroom and sat on the bed. I was on my back in a big, baggy jumper, chewing my shoe again. He gives me an odd look.
"That tasty?"
"Tastes better than I thought it would."
He shrugged. He sounded hoarse. I felt a pain in my stomach and placed my hand over where the pain was. It was dull, but radiated. I felt a toughness beneath my hand. It was weird, but it didn't last long. It was uncomfortable, and Carol noticed and asked what was wrong, and I looked at him and thought...I thought about how sick he looked and how weak and I cried. He tried to soothe me, sitting me up and wrapping his arms around me, and I got worried he would feel the baby belly.  I crossed my arms over my chest and stomach and put my chin on my chest and he kept trying to soothe me. The pain came back suddenly, like my belly was tightening itself up. I decided a warm bath might quiet the pains, so I told Carol and went to run my bath. I undressed and frowned. Pink goop in my underwear. I choose to ignore it and get into the bath. Bubble bath so it is extra soothing. From a bottle of bubble bath that had not been used since Dad died. The door was locked and I was relaxing, but for the pains that came and went and the odd feeling I was peeing in the water, even though my bladder was already empty. In two months, my baby was supposed to be born, but no. I realised there that it was coming now.

I needed a plan of action. Baby was coming early and would be underweight. I wasn't prepared and nobody knew I was pregnant. The baby had survived this long, I was damned if it would fall at the last hurdle. I didn't even know if it was a he or she, as I never had gotten a scan. The pain pulsed through again, stronger now, and lasting longer, coming faster and faster, and I groaned through gritted teeth. Then, dread of dreads, someone tried to open the door. "Can I come in and wash my hands?" Asked the voice of one of the little ones, and I didn't respond as I was having another contraction. I don't know how long it took, but a crowd gathered outside the door, banging and demanding to be let in. They were worried about me, I could tell from their tones. It was hurting a lot more now, and I had no clue what to do. I was scared, alone here in the room with bangs outside, hours in water doing cold. Terrified. I slipped out of the bath and went to the door. "I'll let Jan in, no-one else." I insisted, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. I needed help, and Jan was the only person I could trust. I unlocked the door and she came in, took one look at me and just...screamed. It was a short, angry scream. "What is this?" She shouted.
"I'm having a baby." I answered through sobs.
There was a moment's silence before she used magic to warm the bath up again and left. "Jan, please! I need your help! Jan!" I cried after her, tears streaming down my face. She slammed the door behind her and I returned to the bath, hoping I could make it through this. I heard her telling the others about the baby. A few more hours passed and it was agony. I screamed. More of a high pitched moan that was rather loud than a scream. It definitely wasn't full on screaming like Jan had done. No-one else came in. I'm not sure if they were outside or not, but I was almost desperate for some company through this.

Blood stained the bathwater. I had been there for hours upon hours, almost certainly a whole day. I wanted to go to hospital. I couldn't withstand this pain, but every cry I let out went unanswered and...the water I was sat in was filthy now, but I didn't want to get up. Even so, I hoisted myself out, even though the pain was so bad I wanted to curl up in a ball and never see the light of day. I was scared. I stood and braced myself on the sink, hands gripping the basin so tight my knuckles went white, and I realised I had no clue what to do, and I tried one more desperate call for my big sister. I felt the urge to push and I did, and behind me the door opened, and the light clicked on, and then Janthine's arms were around my shoulders. She was soothing me, and telling me how I looked. My cheeks had gone as red as my hair, and she couldn't tell what was bath water and what was sweat. Then the pain was worse, and Jan's arms disappeared, and I heard it. I heard my baby crying. Jan grabbed a towel and wrapped baby up before shoving it into my arms, bidding I hold it close to my chest. I'm scared to check the sex. I don't know why, I just am. I feel exhausted and she makes me sit down, drapes a towel around me and continues to say soothing things, apologising for not being there before. Carol wants to hold the baby.

Janthine:
I hate everything. I have so much weight on my shoulders. Carol makes money by going out and fucking people, and though I hate it, I have to admit it's his own fault he's sick. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, he's trying so hard just to support his siblings, but the way he's doing it...it's wrong. We need to do something else, something less degrading and wrong. I try and ignore it all, but nobody understands. Having brothers and sisters is horrible, simply horrible. You start to care about them, you love them, and always want to put them first. Having so many is difficult. So many to care for and worry about, and it upsets me so much because I never know what to do, and I'm trying so hard to get a job and bring in money in a decent way that won't make anyone sick, but no-one wants to hire this batty old dowdy. I hate it, I hate it! I'm the eldest of the family, even with four of us still alive born at the same time.

I try and keep up a firm front while the boys are ill. I have to. I have to be brave and help my siblings, but it isn't working. It's getting worse.

And now I feel awful. Waiting for my brother, a girl chatted me up and I spent the night at her place while my precious quintuplet brother got arrested and nobody dealt with everyone else, but for one night, just one night, I forgot my problems, let myself fall to lust, could pretend I didn't have so many hungry siblings to care for. This girl made me feel like no other could. And the next day I had to run home to check on my siblings. They missed me, of course, and a few hours after I got home, so did Carol, looking beaten and tired. He stepped into the threshold looking like he was on the verge of tears and threw up on the carpet. He collapsed after that. That was when Cerelie came to me and told me the desperation of the situation. Things were especially bad and my poor sister looked so exhausted, caring for not only her siblings but a new born child of her own. I wanted to cry, seeing them so beat down by life alone and instantly I felt awful about spending the night with dream girl. And then I lost even her because I had to make it up, I had to focus on fixing things for my family, keeping them alive and safe.

The next morning, I went downstairs. The morning after the break up. The house was cold as ever and I wore my dressing gown over my jacket, and when I entered the living room there was this feeling of dread. Quent was in there, sat in the corner seat, cuddling Carol close to him. He was crying. I stepped closer and saw how pale he was. "Quent?" I asked. "Carol?"
Quent looked up and shook his head. I didn't realise what he meant at first so I left him to it and went to try handing in my CV to people again. Halfway down the road I realised that as well as being even paler than normal, he had blood left unwiped, trailing from his mouth, and had been so still. The whole world seemed to tilt before me as I began to think my brother was dead. I had never seen Allison's body when he'd died. I fell and rested against the wall a moment, and then there came a voice, calling my name. I looked and a hand went to my shoulder, and it was Cassie, Cerelie's friend. I couldn't speak, my throat had gone tight. The thing is, I was never the strong one in the family. That was always Allison, Cerelie...I was the weak, overfriendly one. Heck, when my sister told me she was having a baby I freaked out, ran down the road and had a panic attack. I'm so sorry I left her in the lurch. I'm so sorry I let a group of thugs beat up Carol. I'm so, so sorry I couldn't be a better big sister. I'm so sorry.

Totally Worth It

A man moved quickly through the icy streets of France, silver-lined coat pulled tight around himself. He had dirty-blond hair to his shoulders that streamed out behind him, skin with a pallor of a sickened man, eyes like grey blots of fresh ink, watery and wise. He stopped outside the bar and hesitated, wondering if it was worth going in. He hadn't much money, but possibly enough for one drink. Certainly not enough for anything to eat, but a drink in his stomach was better than sod all. He pushed open the door and watched the men within turn to face him as he swore at the cold. A group of men huddled around a table, already drunk, and one man behind the bar. He smiled behind his stubble and greeted them 'good evening'. He walked over and sat at the table beside the men.
"You're not from around here, huh?" Asked one suddenly. The blonde man shrugged.
"It that obvious?" He asked in poor French.
They laughed. "Afraid so. Where are you from then?"
"Eh...English." He mumbled, shrugging, not sure he was using the right word.
"What brings you here?"
"Visiting family." It wasn't a complete lie. The French Sanctuary had his older sister in the staff. "My name's Austin."
"Maurice." Stated the largest of the Frenchmen. Austin reached over and shook his hand.
"Strong grip."
"You have cold hands. Not a nice night to go out without a proper jacket. That doesn't look very warm."
Austin tugged at it. It never was warm. It was full of Necromancer magic. Bloody hell, he was freezing. He suddenly wished he had something woolly to wear. "Well yes, pleasure to meet you..." Austin mumbled. "I mean, I'm in here to get out of the cold. Awful night to spend out there."
"But totally worth it, what we've just been through!" Exclaimed a man named Philippe. The Necromancer nodded uncertainly.
"We're secret service." A man named Honore whispered, tapping the side of his nose.
Well, best way to get information from that from these drunkards didn't seem to Austin to be showing interest. He gave a shy smile and nodded. "I understand, I won't enquire further." It would be suspicious to. He ordered a drink from the barman and felt a hand on his shoulder. This man had introduced himself as Burnell.
"We've just faced the most dangerous targets yet!"
"We take them down for the good of the world." Maurice muttered with a grin.
"They bled light!" Philippe shrieked joyfully.
Austin frowned. "They did?"
"Monsters they were." Muttered the fifth man, who was hunched over his drink. Rene. "Shot that light from their hands and all. You should have seen it." The men kept talking, and Austin didn't touch his drink, even though his throat went dry. He paled even further as the men continued to talk, and he began to realise what he was hearing. This wasn't what...this couldn't be...oh god no...

Austin made his way over to Ireland as fast as he could. He hammered on a door with the palm of his hand. "Solomon!" The only man he'd ever befriended within the Necromancer temples. "Solomon open up!" He yelled. He felt unwell. He hadn't had a chance to eat or drink or get warm or rested he'd been in such a panic. He was absolutely bursting for the loo as well. Who ever said life was easy? Well, Austin Baritone had had it hard for a very long time, and panic never helped his case. The door opened and both men were greeted with grumpy looking men.
"It's two in the morning, Austin."
"I couldn't really wait for the sunrise."
They stared at one another for a while.
"Still living on the streets?"
Austin shrugged. "Not important." He muttered before collapsing. Solomon caught him and rolled his eyes.
"You're an idiot."
"Really need to talk..."
"Shut up." He took the other man into the house and made him sit on the sofa. Baritone curled up at once.
"I'm sorry...but something serious is happening...I was in France and...well...I should start at the beginning."