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Foreword

This fanfiction is derivative of the indie video game OMORI by alias OMOCAT, but not affiliated with it nor its creators.

Content warning: sexual abuse, trafficking, some verbal and physical abuse, disordered eating, self-harm, gender dysphoria, attempted suicide. These themes are written about from a standpoint of lived experience. Since I'm adapting my experience to fit the setting, the overall story is fictional; however, my real experience was similar in many ways. Also, since the survivor is a minor—and just generally for the sake of good writing—these themes are not explored in grotesquely explicit moment-to-moment detail, but rather through their psychological aftermath, particularly symbolism in flashbacks. I wouldn't exactly say this fic is SFW per se, but let's put it this way: calling it NSFW would be grossly misleading. This isn't a fanfic about... that. This is a fanfic about psychological wounds.

In this fanfic I will unapologetically project my trauma onto a character who there is no canon basis whatsoever to imply even remotely might have gone through anything similar to what I have, but theoretically could have. Why do I do this? Because that character is the only one I feel represented by, and that trauma is the only thing I can think about, and I want to write an OMORI fanfic. Plus she's a background character. She lacks depth, which is not a flaw given her role in the story, but nonetheless I choose to see as an invitation to try to add some. No reason that depth can't take this particular form, other than that realistically it's probably too edgy. Plus OMORI is already a game about childhood trauma so at least it kind of fits, which is more than I could say for any other preexisting setting I could derive from among any of the other existing works of fiction I've enjoyed.

I realize whether or not Charlene is trans is unconfirmed and somewhat controversial. The only reasons there are to think so are because she has a large frame, and is sometimes called Charlie but prefers to be called Charlene. Assuming this automatically means someone is a trans girl might reasonably be read as transmisogynistic and enforcing of toxic gender norms, which I assume is the reason for the controversy. Nonetheless, I'm choosing to portray her as trans here because I'm trans and I'm projecting onto her.

I know I have another in-progress fic that I've left abandoned for literally more than a year. (Since writing, I've formally decided to permanently abandon that one.) To tell the truth, I just really can't think about anything except my own trauma right now, it's consuming me, I need to express it and it doesn't fit into that story. And I've already expressed it. Once isn't enough. A thousand times isn't enough. I'm cursed to keep relitigating it over and over and over and over and over again, through art, through poetry, through flashbacks, through community, and now even through fanfiction. I think it's probably going to corrupt every corner of my life before it's had its way with me. I'm sorry, I'm just fucking cooked.

Oh, also, pizzagate is a fascist myth spun to excuse violence against small local businesses and political persecution, and the reference to it is accidental. I'm pretty sure the site of my trafficking wasn't even a pizza place, he just took me straight to his friends. I just kind of wrote myself into a corner trying to fit everything into the setting, that's all.

Okay. That's all I have to say. Everything after this point is the story.

Love letter

Hi, Basil!

Thank you for the violets. I'm taking good care of them.

—Charlene

Ew. That made it sound like he'd gotten them just for her. He would probably retch at the thought. She scribbled out the unclean suggestion and tried again.

Hi, Basil!

It was very thoughtful of you to bring flowers for everyone on the last day of school.

—Charlene

Too impersonal. How was something like that supposed to convey how she really felt?

Hi, Basil,

Thank you for bringing flowers for everyone on the last day of school. I like mine very much.

Would you be interested in maybe watching a movie together sometime? What kind of movies do you like?

—Charlene

Too forward. Besides, of course he wouldn't be interested. Why would anyone want to go out with their own bully? It's true she would never personally hurt him. But she'd always stood by and watched the rest of the gang pick on him. He probably hated her by association.

Hi, Basil,

Thank you for bringing flowers for everyone on the last day of school. I like my violets very much.

I'm sorry me and my friends hit you and called you a creep. Please forgive me. I'll do anything.

Too desperate.

Basil,

I'm sorry me and my friends hit you and called you a creep. I'm not like, that sorry or anything.

Too callous.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I

Please don't hate me. Why am I even alive?

What the heck was that? Too... um... She didn't even know how to describe it.

No more space on the page. Too many scribbles. It was all just a big mess of ink now. She crumpled it up, tossed it in the wastebasket under her desk, and got out a fresh sheet.

Hi, Basil,

Thank you for bringing everyone flowers. I really like my violets.

I'm sorry me and my friends hit you and called you a creep. I want to make it up to you. I think you're cool and I want to get to know you better. Can we hang out sometime?

It was perfect.

So why did she still look at it and see nothing but garbage?

Furious, she grabbed the sheet off her desk in both fists and tore it in half.

Basil,

I'm sorry a big mean bully like me has a crush on you. I'm sorry you have to be crushed on by some oversized hunchbacked Frankenstein girl. I'm sorry you have to be crushed on by a fat ugly witch who should just go find a hole big enough for her stupid butt and crawl into it and never come out. Please forgive me. I promise I'll never speak to you again.

She dropped the glitter pen. It clattered against her desk. Deflated, she leaned over the document, trying to make sense of what she'd just spewed out onto it... and then collapsed forward and just lay her head on it.

Downstairs, she thought she heard the doorbell. Slowly—when she felt like she'd remembered who and where she was—she rose from her desk and started for the staircase. At this hour? Truly? Who would even...?

Vance is nice but I don't like him like that

Why was it again that Charlene had agreed to this night out? Oh, right: she hadn't. She'd just kind of stared vacantly at Vance when he'd asked her out to celebrate winter break, and was too shy to say no when he'd shown up at her door at 7:00 at night.

Pretty obvious why he'd chosen Gino's. It was the only place in town, and it was familiar and within his comfort zone, since their gang was always meeting up there.

Well, friend group. They called each other friends, but it seemed obvious to her they were more of a gang. Something she wasn't really all that proud of being involved in. Back in simpler times, her big brother Tucker had gotten kicked out for being too much of a bully. Now that they were no longer any different from him, she was painfully aware that looking like a bully was the only reason they hadn't kicked her out yet for being too nice.

Anyway. Gino's. Gross atmosphere. Whole place stank of grease. Her skin felt a little dirtier just from exposure to the moisture in the air there. The disc of pepperoni pizza stared up at her from the serving platter like some grotesque melted face with too many big round meaty eyes. She gripped her sleeve as her own eyes tried to shift to any corner of the room dripping with slightly less oil. She hadn't taken more than a couple bites the whole time. She was glad it seemed like Vance, who was enjoying the pizza immensely, hadn't noticed.

So you're really a girl, huh? came Vance's deep voice, muffled by chewing. How come you never told us?

Because I don't feel enough like one, she thought morosely to herself, but she didn't say this. Trying and failing to think of a better answer, she kept her lips zipped.

That's cool, he continued from behind a soda can, and then set it down and smiled. He looked like he was trying to be charming, but sadly, years' worth of taffy hadn't done wonders for his teeth. I like a girl who could beat me up.

Why did she not find this surprising? Maybe because she knew he was almost as much of a big softie as she was. He'd be harmless if not for the bad influence of his little sister Kim. Wait, was there something to that? Was he projecting something—was he using his preferences to work through something there? Gross. Not something she wanted to be a part of.

Well, I don't know if I'd put it that way... Her gaze didn't turn to meet him.

Aw, c'mon, don't be modest. He leaned across the table. She pressed her back into her chair trying to lean away. I've seen you fight, he reassured. I know you can hit like a truck when you get your head in the game.

She winced. It was very true. It was true and she hated it. That was her. Charlie the truck. She looked like one too. She knew she did. That was why she'd barely touched the pizza. Or at least one reason.

Seeming to finally notice her body language, Vance backed up to give her some space. Uh, Charlie? You doin' okay?

Hurriedly, Charlene sat up and set her hands politely in her lap. Oh, um, of course.

Vance raised a brow. Really? Are you sure? You look kind of pale. You haven't had any pizza either...

Oh... He'd noticed. Charlene swallowed hard. Please excuse me. She stood up and made a beeline for the entrance.

Hey, the bathroom's the other way, Vance called after her. Faintly, she could hear his final protest following her out onto the sidewalk and into the plaza: Aren't you at least gonna chip in?

The sun had already set when their date had started. Now, it was pitch black out. Some snow was already starting to fall. A storm was supposed to be coming in a couple days, but for now, it wasn't too much. Just icy little kisses.

For so many years Charlene had walked these sidewalks without a care in the world. Now, she felt like she was jumping at shadows. A little black kitty meowed at her, as if perhaps to beg for fish, and she almost tripped over her own feet stumbling backward away from it. It hissed and ran into the bushes.

She sighed and looked up at the moon obscured by a passing cloud. What changed...? Why has everything been so scary lately...? I wonder what they'd think of me if they could see me in moments like this... She expected shame to ride with that thought, but what came instead was something else.

Maybe then they'd understand...

Understand what? Why had she thought that? The faint glow behind the veil of clouds in the sky offered no answer, no matter how she scrutinized it.

When she got home, her mother was nowhere to be seen. Likely already asleep. She went straight up the stairs and into the bathroom. She'd obviously already bathed before going out, but she felt filthy all over again, like the grease was still clinging to her. Like she was still there, with Vance, in that filthy, greasy restaurant, having that filthy, greasy conversation. About her body. About things about her body that she didn't like, that he did. And now that body remained coated in all the grease of that moment, and needed to be clean again.

Only... she couldn't undress.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Charlie the truck. Her bulky, lumbering, towering frame—her short hair—her square jaw—staring back at her. Trying to see who would blink first.

Each time she would begin trying to pull off her shirt, she would see her navel, and feel the soft layer over her abdomen. Not a lot—not like her brother. Not really even a noticeable amount. But there. Always there, every day reminding her she was a greedy pig. Every day making her feel a little bit less like going outside than the day before.

From her height, to her broad shoulders, to her powerful muscles and slight layer of adipose—everything about her was wrong. She needed to be smaller. She needed to take up less space. Always imposing. Always unwelcome. But that was a lie, wasn't it? She had friends, didn't she? No. Being in a gang didn't count. She'd already decided that. If she weren't their beast of burden they'd want nothing to do with her. Who would ever really want to be friends with a disgusting freak like her?

For just a moment, behind her, the scent of grease became overpowering. No, not just that—it transformed entirely. Smoke. Smoke and... a scent she had some trouble placing. Alcohol? She wasn't a drinker herself—she was a good kid, followed all the rules, when they weren't forcing her to help beat up other kids for stupid reasons—but she knew on occasion Aubrey would show up smelling like this because of her awful home life with her deadbeat mom who drank like a fish.

When she could finally get her shirt off, she froze. Her breath caught in her throat. In the mirror, she saw on her shoulders the hands of someone behind her. A man, she thought, but she didn't know whom. His voice echoed in her mind. I like a girl who could eat me up. They were similar to Vance's words, but it wasn't Vance, she could tell that much. The hands were too hairy and wrinkled and dirty and rough on her skin, and the voice too raspy and rusty and old.

She saw him, she heard him, she felt him—but when she spun around to push him away—no one was there.

But she had just seen him—but she could feel his presence all around, surrounding her from all sides—no, no, no—No, no, no... Go away... Please go away... Please don't hurt me... Involuntarily, she had crouched down, and brought her hands up over her head, and shrunken up underneath them. Ducking and covering. But away from what? She didn't know. All she knew was that it was here with her and it wanted her. Wanted to do... something to her. Something she wasn't sure she would survive.

Breathing heavy, arms shaking, she pulled her long-sleeve shirt back over her head, and hid inside it. Not threading her head or arms through it. Just bundled up inside it. Wrapped in her own embrace. Crouching. Trembling. Starting to feel dizzy.

A knock came at the bathroom door. It rang in her ears and knocked her onto the floor. She scrambled backward, up against the side of the tub.

Sibling, is that you? A deep voice with a nasal quality to it. Tucker's voice. A comfort, relatively speaking. How long do you intend to conduct your transaction? I need the facilities as well. Always with the needless verbosity. She wondered if he would ever realize it didn't actually make him sound smarter.

A cold sweat was still pouring down her face from whatever it was she'd just experienced. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

... Charlie?

How she hated that name.

Minutes passed before she heard him stomping away. And then, she was able to breathe again. The air didn't taste like grease or smoke or Aubrey's mom anymore. Just air.

Once she felt here again, in the present, in reality—she was safely able to take her bath, and change into her pajamas, and brush her teeth. She made some chamomile tea to share with her stuffed corgi, Briggs. While it was brewing, she watered the violets by her windowsill.

She thought about writing in her diary, but she didn't know what on Earth she would say. Dear diary, today I had a hallucination. Hmm, yeah, maybe not. Not that anyone would ever read it. She just didn't feel like looking back on this and remembering it. It would be better to forget.

After drinking her tea, she gave Briggs a pat on the head. As she was turning around to get into bed, she stopped. She turned back toward him, staring down at his little yellow ears and paws and beady plastic nose. She wasn't by any means a little girl anymore—but she needed him tonight. She wasn't sure she would be okay without him. So, for the first time in years, she scooped him up out of his seat and into her arms, and carried him off to bed with her. She decided to leave the lights on tonight. Just for tonight.

Curled up under the covers, clutching him to her chest, she silently wept. She didn't know why. Her stomach protested the lack of a proper dinner. She ignored it, pulled Briggs in closer, and shut her wet eyes as tight as she could. After what seemed like hours, everything finally started to go fuzzy...

Outside the box

Thoughts from an unknown source: Welcome to suit space. You do not know why you are here.

When Riley woke up, she was somewhere cold and dark. She woke on her hands and knees, head down, eyes already open and staring emptily at the bumpy polyester floor. When the spark of life returned to them, she rose her head and looked around.

Briggs sat motionless right where she'd left him. Good, she wasn't alone.

It wasn't just the floor. Gray polyester, seeming to conceal hard objects like metal rods, surrounded her on all sides. The walls were closing in on her. Their advance was slow, but inevitable. In a matter of minutes, they would crush and suffocate her. Already the air grew stale with the stench of impending death.

Fortunately, there were ways out. Four holes, each big enough to fit through, each carved on one of the room's walls. Each shaped like a particular suit in a deck of playing cards. Diamonds led to a dim, soft, blue-lit place, filled with fabric; spades to a humid, red-lit place, with a tile floor; clubs to a warm, dry, yellow-lit place, adorned with striped wallpaper and a carpet; and hearts to a barren purple-lit place made of wood.

Today, Riley was feeling blue, so she picked up Briggs off the floor by his paw and fled for the diamonds-shaped opening.

On the other side, gravity suddenly fought her, but she pushed through and climbed out onto the soft silk surface above. Above? Yes... above. It had been no illusion: the direction which had, in the polyester room, been ahead of her, was suddenly upward. She had emerged out of a hole in the floor.

Riley stood and dusted herself off from the climb, and, in the process, happened to look down at her body. It was strange—she thought, for some reason, she had a faint feeling of having been a different person a moment ago... but no, looking down at herself now, she saw just who she'd always been for as long as she could remember: a perfectly normal young girl, maybe eight years old, in an elegant blue gown. And—just as she had always remembered—somehow, despite its elegance, wearing it felt... wrong. Like she didn't deserve it. Like it was wasted on her. Like she should feel bad for owning something so nice.

Riley. Good timing. Get over here, would ya? None other than Kim, the de-facto ringleader of her friend group, stood at the foot of the bed. She greeted Riley with seriousness on her face, but mischief in her eyes—like always.

Hang on... the foot of the bed...? Yes: looking around, it seemed the soft silk surface she'd climbed up onto was a bed, and this was a bedroom. But not hers. She didn't know whom it belonged to. She'd never seen it before... right...? It smelled dusty. Unmaintained. Riley considered herself something of an expert at keeping her room clean, and, looking closer, this was a very unclean room. Laundry on the floor. Stains on the carpet. It reminded her a bit of her brother's room—though her brother's room was much worse.

What, are ya gonna just sit there and stare? Get up and help us search this loser's stuff for candy. Kim gestured to the diamonds-shaped hole that Riley had emerged from. Only... it had never been a hole, and it had never been a rhombus. It was a rectangle; she'd just been looking at it turned diagonally. Specifically, it was a nondescript box. Why couldn't she wrap her head around what the box looked like? Every time she looked back at it, the world seemed to fizzle and blur.

Come on, we're gonna need your brawn in case he comes back while we're searching, Kim elaborated, tapping the box impatiently.

Yeah, piped up Vance from the corner of the room. I'm guarding the door, but it's good to have backup.

My... brawn...? Riley looked down at her tiny, fragile arms and legs, perplexed. If you say so... She climbed out of the bed and joined Kim in digging through the box, once a portal to another world, now instead suddenly and inexplicably filled with men's clothing.

Ugh, it's no good. There's nothing but ratty old shirts and socks in here. Kim tossed the irrelevant articles behind her in disgust one after the other as she burrowed through them. Riley, not knowing what else to do to help, followed suit. Shirts, socks... and for some reason... music sheets...?

Eventually, they reached the bottom of the box. There, they found... Briggs, holding a little orange bottle in his inanimate little paws? But hadn't Riley brought Briggs along with her? How had he ended up in there?

Bingo! Kim plucked the bottle from Briggs's grasp. It was a small cylindrical thing, orange, transparent, with a white cap, and a white label. Riley recognized it. She would often go to the pharmacy to pick up things that looked like this for her elderly mother, who couldn't get around very well.

Um, Kim, I don't think that's—

Too late. Kim had already popped several of the pills and was chewing them vigorously. Vance had come to join her in the feast, pouring himself a generous handful and gnawing on them all at once.

Come on, Riley, don't you want some? came muffled words of encouragement from Kim.

Yeah, Riley, have some with us, echoed Vance absently, too lost in the flavor. Come join in the fun. Tastes like bananas.

As they were chewing, Riley saw their bodies begin to fade into nothing, like images cast by a failing projector. From the legs up, they were turning to stardust and scattering in the night's cold draft.

Riley's thoughts: I can join them. I can disappear. Riley's heart lifted with a sense of peace as she watched her friends vanish, the encroaching border of nonexistence now approaching their waists. She didn't know where the feeling of peace had come from. It didn't feel like everything would be okay... Not exactly. More like nothing would ever have to be okay again. Like she could finally... just rest. I can stop taking up space. I can stop holding these regrets. I can... just disappear...

Smiling in relief, she took Kim's outstretched hand. With the other, she accepted the pill bottle. She examined the little white capsule that came out, and flicked it into her mouth. Kim smiled back. She looked... so proud of her. It was a different kind of pride from the leaderly sort she expressed about their gang activities. It was... warm. Almost... maternal.

And then... everything went black.

Riley hadn't expected to wake up again after that. When she did, she was in a car. Mrs. Suzuki was driving... Why was one of her neighbors driving her around? Where was she driving her?

Ugh. I can't believe you ran away from home again. Mrs. Suzuki slammed her hand down on the horn. Hey, asshole! It's called a turn lane, genius!

I'm sorry... Riley didn't even know what she was sorry for. Had she run away? She didn't remember doing anything like that. Regardless, the interior of this vehicle was not safe for her. There was a very angry threat sitting right next to her. She kept her head hung low. In doing so, she noticed the light bruises and scrapes on her arms and calves. Where had those come from? They stung. She was pretty sure Mrs. Suzuki hadn't inflicted them. She's not that mean... She means well enough.

Yeah, you should be sorry, the lady grumbled. She ranted on: Mari and little Sunny are going to miss dinner because of you. I don't even want to think about what my husband is going to do. Do you even have any idea how many times I've had to hunt you down for your mother at this point? I could make this my job if the old hag would actually pay me.

They rounded a sharp corner, and Riley's whole body slammed against the passenger-side door. Honestly I don't know why I don't just leave you for dead at this point. I'm sure it would make her life a whole lot easier too. Whoops, police car. They slowed down until the police car had passed, and then sped up again. Goddamn police in this town. Maybe if they'd do their real job instead of spending all their time handing out speeding tickets, she wouldn't have to keep calling me. She knows I've got my hands full with my own kids. I can't just be running her pointless little errands all the time. And she's got some nerve, using her husband as leverage. What else am I supposed to do, make Mari give up piano practice because her teacher lost a child? That old witch knows exactly what she's doing. You know, she was never exactly a friend, but you're really starting to strain our relationship here. Slowly, Riley's head sank lower and lower, until she was back into that familiar ducking-and-covering pose.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. What are you all waiting for!? The light is green!! The horn rang out again. Great. A traffic jam. Just what we needed.

With her foot on the brake, Mrs. Suzuki turned toward Riley and leaned over her. She was such a pretty, soft-featured lady—but with those features distorted by rage like this, she looked like a monster. Naturally, it didn't help that she, an adult, towered over Riley, a child. Riley shrank away toward the door.

You realize this is your fault, right!? Mrs. Suzuki was yelling at full volume now. Riley had to bring her hands back down from over her head to cover her face. All of this is because you decided to go on your little field trip! We're going to be here all night and it's your fault!! Riley brought her knees up in her seat and buried her head between them. Maybe they would block out the sound better. Her arms wrapped around her shins to pull them close. Don't shut down on me, little lady! God, you're impossible! You always do this! You're never going to learn your damn lesson if you just keep feeling sorry for yourself! Don't you go making me the bad guy! I'm the one suffering for your decisions, do you even understand that!? I said do you even—

Charlene?

Charlene jolted awake. She flung herself up straight in bed to try to make out where Mrs. Suzuki was talking to her from now. Where had she gone? Had she somehow teleported? The sudden movement made a mess of her covers, and Briggs bounced off the bed and onto the floor.

The face she saw wasn't Mrs. Suzuki. It was a kindly, elderly face, and one she knew very well, to say the least. One that had kept her alive all these years. Her reason to go on.

Charlene, sweetie, it's already twelve noon. The old woman smiled a gentle smile, but her eyes betrayed her concern. You've been sleeping all morning. Is everything alright?

Charlene grabbed at her own face to make sure she was really Charlene and not a little girl named Riley. She noticed her cheeks were completely soaked with tears.

Mom... She jumped to her feet. The floor shook a little. The startled old lady backed up a step, but Charlene stooped to wrap her in her arms. She snuggled her face down into the old lady's shoulder. Her voice cracked. Mom... I promise I won't run away again...

Her mother seemed caught off-guard. Slowly, she wrapped her own, shorter, weaker arms as best she could around her large daughter's back. Oh, I know you won't, honey. What's wrong? Can you tell your mother what's wrong?

Charlene only sobbed. Of course she couldn't tell her what was wrong. She couldn't say a single word more than she already had. None would form. And she didn't even know what was wrong.

Only that something long-buried was trying to surface. Something that hurt far more than she could even comprehend, let alone feel all at once. A bitter poison slowly spreading from a broken heart, outward through her whole body. One that might very well claim her life, if she didn't stay right there, hugging her mother, for as long as possible.

Daily life

As she cracked open the door to her brother's room, the hinges squeaked. Good god the air in there was putrid. Old food everywhere. Old food, dirty clothes, trash bags not taken out.

And there he was, in front of the warm glow of the monitor, playing some pornographic video game again.

She knew she should have been disgusted. But she couldn't be. He was her brother, and truthfully, she just felt sorry for him. Poor guy had always seemed to take their dad leaving a whole lot harder than she ever had. He was the one who'd had to say goodbye to five other siblings, too. She'd never even known them. And then, the way he'd lost all his friends—even if he did kind of deserve that one with how he'd been acting at the time. Is it even any wonder...?

She whispered out to him to see if maybe he'd notice. Good morning, Tucker...

Good afternoon, my sibling, he called back, without even turning to spare a glance in her direction. His eyes were fixed solely on the screen. Cease your irrelevant botherations. Big brother is occupied slaying dragons.

Slaying dragons indeed. With his girth, it was difficult to see over his shoulder from this distance, but, just by chance, she'd already seen just enough—wished she hadn't—that it was very obvious he was not slaying any dragons. What he was doing... she didn't want to dignify with a description. Was... Was that woman supposed to be an anthropomorphic jelly doughnut...? Hmm. She reminded Charlene a bit of the local confectioner. Probably better not to think too much on the resemblance.

She wasn't exactly eager to keep this conversation going. She never was, with him. But she was worried. She always was, about him. So she needed to at least check in, like she did every day. Remind him... Hey... You know... You're always welcome... Out in the front room... If you, um, ever...

Yes, yes. I'll come out if I feel like it. He held up the hand he didn't need to move the mouse, and twirled it dismissively, as if inviting her to talk to it instead. Just forget about me and go have fun adventuring with our old party members. My quest is over, but yours awaits.

How very... typical of him. Oh... Okay... That's fine... Just, um... Whatever makes you happy...

Slowly, she closed the door. With her back against it, she breathed a sigh of relief that that particular chore had been managed for the morning.

She headed to the entryway and confronted the front door. Deep breath in, and out. She was groomed, well-dressed, had her wallet in her pocket and her favorite flower-print belt around her waist. Yesterday had been hard... for... some reason. But today was a new day and she felt ready to face it.

Going out, dear? her mother called from the stairs.

Yes, mother, she sang in reply. I'll be home before dark.

Will you at least have some breakfast?

I already ate. It was a lie, but only by omission. Her grotesque body shape told her she'd already eaten as much as she deserved for her whole life. But! Better not to think about that today! Today still had a chance to be a better day!

After the light snowfall last night, the streets were icy and the rooftops frosty. But the frost melted off as she approached Faraway Park. The sun shone brighter there. It always had.

At the park, at their hangout spot in the clearing, the others were all already there—naturally. They would have been playing together for hours now. Nothing looked any different from normal. Angel was faithfully practicing martial arts under Mikhael's incompetent tutelage, while Mikhael sat and supervised and gloated about being better at it and having a higher power level. Kim and Vance were taking a break from roughhousing to sit by the picnic blanket and eat taffy together, that they'd probably stolen from the supermarket confectionery again. (No judgment.)

And Aubrey... Aubrey, the ornery girl who'd recently assumed the role of their de-facto leader... As usual, Aubrey didn't seem to feel up to having any fun. She just sat on the edge of the dock, staring down into the lake and wading her feet in it.

You know what? Charlene decided she didn't have the energy to do much today either. She kicked off her shoes, lumbered up behind Aubrey, and sat down next to her, dipping her own legs into the lake as well.

Minutes passed that felt like hours, with the sun glowing down over their faces, and a warm, sweet breeze passing by, carrying the fragrance of the bushes and patches of flowers it had brushed through to reach them. Every now and then, some among the varying rainbow of pinwheels in the corner would spin gently, and then stop again. Unusually nice weather for winter. But then, year 'round, the park never seemed to lose its vitality, anyway; Charlene had long known this.

Aubrey was the first to speak. What took you so long? Her eyes didn't lift from the water.

Oh, um, sorry... Charlene offered in lieu of an explanation. She didn't have one to give. What had taken her so long? Just what was that nightmare?

A fluffy little yellow bird landed on the park monument, preened itself, and took off again.

I can tell, you know. That you have something going on too. Aubrey seemed to relax and lean back against her hands a bit, but her stern expression didn't change. Takes one to know one. It's written all over your face.

P—Pardon...? Charlene didn't know what Aubrey meant, and had a bad feeling she wasn't sure she wanted to.

I get it. You miss her too, don't you?

Oh. That. Of course. Of course that was what she meant. What else was there to mean? There was nothing else, right?

Yeah... Charlene lied. It was only a half-lie. She hadn't known Mari well—or at least she didn't think so. Just that she'd been dad's favorite student. But it was horrifying to hear such a bright and shining girl had done... that to herself.

I guess I just still don't understand why she did it. Why she left us all alone like this. No tears came, but Charlene swore she could see them just under the surface. Not in Aubrey's expression, exactly. She remained stoic. Flat. Empty. Empty, yet so painfully, unbearably full. She meant everything to us. And she loved us. She loved life... or I guess... we all just thought she did.

Tiny ripples formed in the lake where debris from the flowers and trees would land in it while blowing along on its unknowable journey.

Hey... Could you do me a favor and... Tell me something about her. Anything about her. I'll probably know it already but... I just need to hear it from someone else. Aubrey's voice was quieter now. More than that, there was so much fatigue in it. She sounded a million miles away. Your dad taught her piano, right? What was that like?

Charlene tried to remember anything her dad had said about Mari. She couldn't remember, but... that wasn't all she couldn't remember.

She hadn't thought about him in so long, but... Now that someone had asked, she was realizing...

She couldn't remember her dad's face.

No... More than that... For some reason... She didn't want to remember his face. She tried to think about it and just saw a blank in her mind's eye. Like whatever was supposed to be there, on the front of his head... was somehow being... censored.

Quick, make something up... No, actually, there was no need for that. She may not have remembered his face. She may not have remembered his words. But she remembered the general relationship he had with Mari. Just vaguely. Just barely.

He said she was the best student he ever taught. And that he wished he could have spent more time with her.

That sentiment... It should have been sweet. It should have been something to remember the poor girl by. Then...

... Why was it making Charlene's skin crawl? Why did something about it feel so... gross?

Why did she suddenly find herself imagining that poor girl's body curled up on its side somewhere dark and cramped? And on the outside, two deep voices talking... But she couldn't make them out. Too muffled.

Now Mikhael had joined in to participate more actively in Angel's practice. Charlene could hear their laughter behind her. She wondered when it was that she had lost the ability to play and laugh like that. Why had she become such a quiet person? She couldn't remember ever not being this way, but... she was sure there had to have been some point in time. She could feel it in her bones... This wasn't just her natural personality... She was... wounded, somehow. The capacity to be a normal child had somehow been... taken from her. By whom? By what? She couldn't even begin to imagine.

Deep breath in, and out. She still didn't know what this was, but it was only going to get worse if she didn't stand up to it. It wouldn't be healthy to just push it back down. Though she hadn't realized it before, she was suddenly getting the feeling she'd been doing that all her life, and what was going on was simply that it was no longer possible.

I... had a strange dream. And a hallucination. But she didn't have to tell the whole truth. That just felt like too much right now. I'm sure it was just a dream... but...

Aubrey seemed to think about this for a long pause, and then sighed. I guess I'll bite. Spill it.

Charlene would have liked nothing more. But the tightening knot in her chest had other plans.

Deep breath in. And out. Loosen that knot. Untie the knot.

Kim and Vance asked me to help them look for candy. She stopped to try to find the right words to express what remained. It had been so strange, so uncomfortable, that it was hard to even describe. But... what we found wasn't candy. It was pills... and... we took them and... started disappearing...

Aubrey scoffed. Doesn't seem that strange to me. And then, with that chilling, toothy smirk she'd gotten so good at, she finally tilted her head ever so slightly in Charlene's direction. Kim told me about that. Your little suicide pact. Pretty normal to have nightmares after something like that.

Charlene's thoughts: Our... what...? Charlene's heart sank. It felt like the blood in her veins had dropped ten degrees. The clearing was spinning...

Hey, Charlie! Catch, idiot! The voice had come from Angel. Before Charlene could turn to look: Thunk. A sports ball smacked her right upside the head. Giant that she was, it barely hurt. She glanced down at it rolling away. It was a tetherball torn off its rope. Maybe the same one Vance had accidentally torn off back in middle school. Hard to say.

Go have some fun. It'll help you quit thinking about it. Turning her back, Aubrey sank her cheeks into her hands and went back to surveying the ripples in the lake. Besides, I need to be alone with this right now.

devour you

Later that day, the six of them rode around town on their scooters spray-painting the sidewalks and fences. Well, the five of them. Aubrey had gone home. She usually did.

Well, actually the four of them. Charlene had never been super into the whole graffiti thing. She just followed them on her own scooter and kept them company.

Sometimes, to try to include her, Angel would ask her what she thought he should paint. Seemed like he expected her to say something cool and badass, befitting the big scary punk she was all too aware she looked like. But... Flowers... Puppies... Suffice to say he didn't end up liking her suggestions very much. They'd known each other for long enough at this point. She wasn't sure why he still kept wanting her to be something he should have known very well at this point she just wasn't.

It was a long evening. The exertion made her a little bit lightheaded, but she got through it, and she had fun. Or at least... she thought she'd had fun. Maybe she just felt that way because everyone else had fun.

In the end, she found herself walking home alone again. Walking home, alone, at night, in perfect darkness. She was always the last one left. She would always join everyone in walking everyone else home, but no one ever walked her home. In the end, she was always the one waving goodnight to the last friend to leave the parade, and now here she was, alone, unsafe, yet again.

By the time she was nearing her block, the snow had started back up for the night. The same little black cat—she thought maybe it was the same—peered up at her again with its shiny yellow eyes. Meowing for food again. It had forgiven her for startling it the night before. But she didn't have anything to give... Nothing except a pat on the head. Carefully, she got down on her knees, and beckoned it. It was wary, and came to her side slowly, but without complaint. She stroked its fuzzy little back, and felt its warmth, and felt it purr... and then, within the minute, it had disappeared into the bushes again.

This is the tenderness they tried to take from you.

This is the tenderness you were never offered.

They promised it to you and gave you pain instead. That you still have it in your heart to show to others...

It's not fair. Why do they deserve it? Why do they deserve your kindness and not you?

You who deserve nothing but punishment. You who deserve nothing but to be used up and thrown away. And why? For what? For whom?

Maybe we should see how they like it. Maybe we should get to be the monster for once.

Where had that thought come from? Once again... she had not meant to think it. It felt as if someone else was thinking through her. Someone bitter. Someone resentful...

Someone hungry.

Her poor tummy growled. Two bites of pizza were now officially all she'd eaten over two full days. And it was so cold out...

She made it home in one piece. No second bath tonight. No tea. No checking in on Tucker. Just the bare essentials. Skincare. Brushing her teeth. Putting on pajamas. She didn't even water her violets or say goodnight to Briggs.

She was just... so... goddamn... tired.

Why did it have to be this way?

Why did dad leave them? Why did she have to put up with Tucker? Why did she have to put up with a friend group who wouldn't accept her for who she was?

Why did she have to starve herself? She was eating plenty before. Why did she have to help beat up kids and deface residential blocks? What had they done wrong? What had she done wrong to deserve to have to be the villain in everyone's story like this?

Why did she have to put up with hanging out with everyone in a slimy D-rate pizza joint? Why did she have to be born built like a brick? Why did she have to lie to appease them? Why did she have to be everyone's workhorse and everyone's punching bag?

And now they expected her to just accept there had apparently been some kind of suicide pact!?

Why oh why did she have to be Charlie?

She grabbed her pillow and screamed into it until her throat went hoarse. She screamed into it until it hurt. She screamed into it until she ran out of breath and felt faint.

Why did those men have to hurt you?

Why did they have to use you?

Why did they have to touch you there?

They are the ones who deserve to be punished. Some of them wanted to be punished... How cute.

Tonight, we will pay them their dues. Let them use this body one last time, and it will be the last thing they ever see.

Tonight, we will devour them.

Thoughts from an unknown source: Welcome to suit space. You do not know why you are here.

When Riley came to, she was screaming, on her knees, head back in blind, seething rage, reaching up toward the heavens and clawing at them to rip them open. When she realized she was conscious, she slowly calmed down, and caught her breath, and waited for her heart to stop racing.

Back in the polyester chamber where the walls closed in. Back in there with the playing card suits. Diamonds was sealed up now. She couldn't go through there again. Whatever. Blue was a loser color.

Doesn't matter! I'll take the walls on myself! I'll fight them! You think I won't? You think I've never punched a wall before!?

But no one was there to hear.

It was probably ill-advised anyway, given her physique. She thought she'd remembered being tall and muscular and imposing a moment ago. Such a happy dream. She could have crushed anyone who dared stand against her. But...

... But now, now that she was putting up those dukes, she was actually getting a good look at them... and, no... she was just as scrawny as she'd always remembered being. A perfectly normal young girl, maybe nine years old, with a torn crimson long-sleeve shirt and tattered burgundy trousers.

The walls were getting closer, and she was ill-equipped to fight them. She made a snap decision. Riley was feeling red today, so she threw herself through the hole shaped like the spades suit.

But the one who came out on the other side was not Riley. Now, she was Charlene again. But... still not in Charlene's body. She looked down at herself. She wasn't Charlie the truck. She was Charlie the snake. Her mind remained Charlene's, but physically, she was in the body of a tiny, pathetic little gray snake, slithering along a white tiled surface in a comparatively gigantic white tiled room.

She ascertained it must have been a bathroom countertop. This was because, when she looked behind her, she saw herself in a mirror, and just below the mirror was a porcelain basin which, to Charlene, was the size of a crater—and above it, a faucet the size of a great monument.

It didn't actually feel like a clean faucet. It didn't look dirty—it actually had quite a nice reflective shine to it—but something about it... felt dirty. She could infer it was the form now taken by the hole she'd come here through, because from her vantage point, it looked rather like a spades sign. With its two knobs and its spout, it also looked like... something else. Something which... for some reason... she found herself really not wanting to think about. Like... more than she normally wouldn't. Like, normally it would just be a gross joke to make, sure. But something about this context... She shuddered and averted her eyes.

Oh, Mr. Suzuki...~ sang a familiar voice. Her own voice—but at a younger age—and booming. The tone was so... sardonic. Vitriolic. Mocking, but devoid of mirth. Adoring... but devoid of compassion. Craving... but hateful.

If she herself was now back to being Charlene, then where had Riley gone? She hadn't thought to ask—but now, she didn't need to.

She slowly turned around... and, leaning over the counter, staring daggers down at her, was an enormous younger version of her own face. Softer. Without yet that dead look in her eyes. But what gleamed there instead... was nothing short of malice, pure and vile.

There you are, Mr. Suzuki. The disdainful grimace that spread across her face had too many teeth in it. A human being did not have that many teeth, and they should not have been so sharp. I missed you so much, you know. I was so worried you'd gotten bored of me. Today, I pick the game. Today we're going to play something I promise you won't get bored of. You won't get a chance.

Eyes opened where eyes did not belong. All around Charlene. All over the floors and walls. Youthful eyes, with mischievous glints—that were also evil eyes, with bright-red irises. Peering. Watching. Judging. Weighing her imagined sins. Sizing her up.

I'm not Mr. Suzuki, I'm Charlene! Charlene tried to call out. But all that came out of her mouth was a hissing sound and a long forked tongue. A tongue that could tell nothing but lies.

With a crack, the ceiling shattered and came apart, giving way to a stormy sky. Rain came pouring down... but they weren't raindrops. They were syringes.

Charlene tried to worm her way along to safety, to shelter, to anything on the counter that looked like an awning... but it was all futile. Despite herself, she had to endure being stabbed, again and again, with needle after needle. She hissed as loudly as she could, but no one came to help her. All she could do was drown in a sharp pointy ocean of steel.

Cooperate, please, Mr. Suzuki. Take your medicine. Didn't you want this? I thought you liked a girl who could eat you up. Riley looked down at her like she was the scum of the Earth. I'm going to drink every drop of the toxic sludge running through your veins that you have the nerve to call blood. You are going to suffer here until you've known even a fraction of the lifelong misery you've inflicted on me. And I am going to savor it.

The needles invaded Charlene's body... Whatever had already been inside of her was sucked out... The medicine was pushed in... and...

... And then she was Riley again.

They'd replaced her. Replaced her with anger. Replaced her with shame. Replaced her with grief. Replaced her with fear.

Replaced her with Riley. And there she was, lying on her side, writhing. No longer a snake. A perfectly normal young girl, in a perfectly normal state of soul-crushing agony. The needles were gone, as were the wounds they'd opened... but she could still feel them. She could feel them every time she moved.

No one towered over her any longer—of course. She was alone. Alone with her pain. No one had come to save her, and this was the result.

The anger now was... not the same. It wasn't burning. It was smoldering. Her flame had been extinguished. She was simply too tired. Too barren. Too stolen from. She had nothing left. Only a quiet, frothing resentment.

The room had gone dark, and it felt like it had gotten smaller. And... like it was moving.

Quietly, in the distance, she thought she could hear a soothing piano melody. Someone was here.

Help... It was worth a try. She had returned to being barely able to speak above a whisper—but this time, it was because her lungs felt like they'd been crushed into pulp.

No one answered. The piano music only became farther and farther away.

Where are you... taking me... you... sick... bastard... I'll... burn you... alive...

Those were the last words Riley could remember saying that day. The walls were too tight, the air too thin. And once there was none left to breathe... well...

What was he like?

Charlene woke with blood rushing to her head. Her face felt hot. She was panting. Her arms were at her sides, and her hands were balled up tightly into fists.

Deep breath in... And out.

She had a perpetrator. She still didn't know what it was he'd even done. She still didn't know why he would have done whatever it was.

She wasn't even sure anything had been done to her. It was just a dream, right? It was all just in her head, right? All this time. All just in her head. She was crazy. That had to be it. That was the easiest explanation. That was the easiest way out.

But she didn't have to settle for that anymore. She could find out for sure. Now that she had a name... All she had to do was ask. She was fully prepared to find out she was just making something up out of nowhere and she was a terrible person for ever thinking otherwise about a clearly innocent man. Frankly, that was the outcome she expected. But she didn't have to just assume as much. She could find out. She needed to find out.

She grabbed Briggs out of his seat, yanking him up by the ear. He could be the bad cop to her good cop today. She realized that was completely irrational but she really didn't care to stop herself long enough to worry about that.

She got through her morning routine as fast as she could and bounded out of the house before mom could even finish asking what she was in such a hurry for. She had a long day of interrogation ahead of her.

For a moment, she forgot her own strength and practically blasted the front door apart. She took a moment to make sure it was secure on its hinges, and then continued on her way without even bothering to close it. Off to the Suzukis' house. She almost slipped on the thin sheets of ice over the ground, but was in such a hurry she didn't have time to slip. Her forward momentum was simply too great.

She pounded on the door. No response.

She rang the doorbell. No response.

Please, Mrs. Suzuki, open up! I—I need to talk to you! She pounded on the door again. She didn't want to talk to her, but under the circumstances, she had no choice.

No response.

Was anyone even home? It was dark through the window.

Finally, she heard something past the door. Just barely audible. Quiet, timid, shaky little footsteps. They stopped right in front of the door...

Now that she knew someone was there, she felt a little bit nervous. Please... Whoever's home... I have some things I really need to ask you...

After around half a minute... the footsteps began again, and faded into the distance. Whoever had come to answer the door... had walked away. Cursing her luck, Charlene took off to try somewhere else.

She ran around to every house she could. Half of them dismissed her erratic behavior as those hooligans causing trouble again. The other half had nothing useful to say. Sorry, I never met the guy. Sorry, I never really talked to him. I think I saw him getting pizza once. Looked like he was in a rotten mood. Yeah, he helped me set up my computer. What was he like? Couldn't tell ya. Normal I guess. How did no one in Faraway know anything about this guy?

All her friends' parents.

Mikhael's folks at the bakery. I'm sorry to say we never saw him at church... Before you go, would you like some fresh bread?

Kim and Vance's mom. He cut in front of me in line at the supermarket once. How rude! His parents must not have sheared him enough. The mother's shears went: Snip, snip, snip. Their divorced dad. I never met him, but you know... I feel like I relate to him on a spiritual level.

Angel's sister was too busy painting. Aubrey's mom told her to go screw herself.

She... couldn't bring herself to ask Basil or his caretaker. Not with the way she and her friends always treated him. And... not when she...

... The basketball kid's family. They'd met him before, but the most they could tell her about him was that he seemed like a very professional man. Very well put together in life. Maybe a little bit creepy.

The pharmacist. He'd never met him. Wait, why didn't the pharmacist know?

Wait... Why did she really feel like the pharmacist should know? Where was that even coming from?

The principal just said she shouldn't be digging around about other students' home lives like this, and then told her off for skipping school so much.

No one at the Othermart knew anything. Except maybe the fish lady, but due to the language barrier, that would have to remain a mystery. The confectioner, in particular, gave Charlene a very sweet and friendly smile, and told her to buy something or get out before she calls security.

The guy selling apple juice ignored her questions and just told her not to buy orange juice. The guy selling orange juice just ignored her questions and told her not to buy apple juice. The weirdo always going on about recycling mentioned noticing Mr. Suzuki owned a laptop. Seemed miffed about that. Went on about how non-user-serviceable microtech like that is bad for the environment because so much of it gets thrown out all the time. Charlene... guessed that made sense? But it wasn't useful.

The guy with messy hair and glasses didn't want to talk to her after how her gang had treated him. She tried to apologize on their behalf but he wasn't having any of it. The old woman paying people to properly dispose of trash was willing to listen, but didn't know anything either.

She even asked the elderly unhoused man out enjoying the sun. He'd never even met the guy.

And everyone else just told her to stop bothering people.

By the time she was finished, it was already evening. She'd asked everyone in Faraway Town who was willing to answer.

No... There was still one person she hadn't asked.

Wanting to slap herself for not thinking of this first, she started to run back home. But she was running on fumes, and through several inches of snow at that. She'd already run all over town and had been running on empty that whole time as well, and now she was discovering that wasn't a good idea. As she approached her street, her run slowed to a brisk walk, and then to a trudge, and then to a crawl. It took everything she had in her body not to fall forward and literally crawl home.

Now doubled over and barely able to move, she carefully lifted herself up onto the porch, and then up onto the doorstep. She kicked her sneakers at the pavement and knocked off the dirt and ice clinging to them.

Once she was inside, she made a conscious effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other until she got to the living room couch, and then collapsed onto it. Every muscle she had was screaming for protein. Protein, and rest. She could at least give them rest.

Why had she even felt such urgency?

Charlene's thoughts: Because if she didn't act fast, he might come back. Someone needed to know before then. Someone needed to be there to keep her safe.

She wasn't sure where that thought had come from. It didn't seem especially rational. He didn't even live in town anymore. And—as much as she hated looking this way—she couldn't deny that at this point, if anyone tried to hurt her, she was perfectly capable of crushing them like a stress toy all on her own.

Or... she would be. Normally. Right now, it felt like if she tried, she couldn't even crush an actual stress toy.

It was around the time the room stopped feeling upside-down that she saw her mother coming over to greet her. Goodness, you've been out on quite the jog today, haven't you? Are you all tired out now? She sat down next to Charlene and held her hand. I'll have you know I got a few stern calls about you while you were gone. I do wish you wouldn't go causing trouble, dear. I keep telling you those friends of yours are a bad influence.

Mom... Her voice was even quieter than usual because she barely had the energy to speak anymore. Did you know Mr. Suzuki?

Where is this coming from? asked her mother, running wrinkled fingers gently through her hair. Is that what you've been going around asking everyone?

Yeah... Maybe... Charlene huddled up closer to her mother, in part just to be closer to her—and in part to lean on her for support, because she could barely hold herself upright. Someone who didn't know better might think she was about to squash the poor woman flat, but Charlene knew better. Of course she did. They were mother and daughter after all.

Well... Her mother guided her fully down across her lap, and held her as you might a very large dog. I didn't know the man very well at all. But he and your father were good friends. He might be able to tell you something if he were still here... She tapped her chin, deep in thought—trying to recall something. Although... I do remember we had him over for dinner a few times... He was always lugging that big suitcase around.

Charlene froze. Her whole body went stiff and her blood ran cold. S—S—Suitcase? No one else had mentioned a suitcase. Why not? It seemed notable enough as a quirk. Worse... why did she really hate that word? Suitcase. Suitcase. The shape of it, the sound of it, the mental image—nothing about it sat right with her.

Why, yes. It was the biggest I've ever seen. Quite a sight to behold. He was a funny fellow in that way. Mom rested her hands across Charlene. Oh, honey, what's the matter? Why so tense?

Charlene didn't know how to respond. Mentally, she had shut down. The conversation was just suddenly inaccessible to her. If she tried to think about it... about why he had a suitcase, or what that meant... everything just started feeling like white noise. ... Thanks, mom. I... She felt her eyes losing focus. Double vision. I don't want to talk about Mr. Suzuki anymore.

Well, I never—You're the one who brought him up! Such a silly girl. There was levity to her mother's words, but not to her tone, and not to her face. She was clearly trying to tease her... but couldn't, not properly—because she was too worried.

They stayed like that awhile—Charlene on her side in her mother's lap, frozen in unsettled contemplation, her mother cradling her and playing with her bangs—before her mother spoke again. I don't know why you wanted to know about him... but... you know you can tell your mother anything, right? If, say... something happened...

Charlene couldn't answer. She wasn't home right now.

I have to ask you something

Later that night, even the park was covered in a thick layer of frost. The gang was just wrapping up, and Kim and Vance were the last to leave. Charlene had caught them just in time. She didn't want to know. But she had no choice. Not about that man anymore. No, she was here to ask them something else.

Kim. Vance.

Stopping on their way to the plaza, they turned back to look at her. Kim, as usual, was the first to speak.

Charlie? Her surprise was understandable. Charlene was aware this was the first time they'd ever heard her speak before spoken to. Furthermore: Where were you today? You get sick or something?

Sorry... She looked away, embarrassed. I—I'd been asking everyone what they knew about Mr. Suitcase—I—I mean—

Mr. Suitcase? Kim gave her a flat look and stifled a snort. Who's that supposed to be, your new stuffed animal?

Holding her breath, Charlene slowly crept up to the pair. She looked Kim straight in the eyes. I have to ask you something.

Well, spit it out. Her words were typical of her, but Kim didn't sound impatient. Just bewildered still. Vance, meanwhile, was pouting. It was clear he'd not been amused by recent events. First the abrupt end to their date a few nights ago, and now not even showing up to the regular gang activities today... But perhaps it was a sign of good faith that he wasn't saying anything about it.

We didn't ever have a... a... She gulped. She couldn't say the word. It wouldn't come out.

Now Kim was getting impatient. Have a what? She tapped her hip. Her eyes made motions off toward Othermart. Clearly they'd just been on their way to try their hand at a good heist.

Charlene took a few deep breaths and tried again. We didn't ever have... a... s—suicide pact, did we? All the color had drained from her face by the time she'd finished asking. She felt sick... She should have eaten breakfast... or... anything today... or yesterday... or the day before that...

Kim's expression softened in a way Charlene had never seen from her before. Vance, too, stopped looking angry, and stepped closer.

Charlie... Don't you remember? Kim seemed genuinely confused—but also, very concerned. Charlene could see in her brow that she truly remembered something and didn't understand why Charlene didn't remember it as well.

Vance echoed his sister. Yeah, don't you remember, Charlie? He was just doing everything she did, as usual, but it was a little more than that. Clearly he meant it. Clearly Charlene was the odd one out here.

Her stomach turned. The cold sweat came back. R—Remember... w—wh—what...? She stumbled backward slightly, and caught herself on her favorite tree. From the impact, bits of sleet tumbled down over her from its leaves.

Whoa. A real case of amnesia... Vance just blinked, stunned. Sis, I think this might be serious.

Of course it's serious, Vance. Don't be stupid. Once Kim felt confident her brother's assessment was correct, she didn't even miss a beat. She came forward to rest a palm on Charlene's arm, and glared up at her. Charlie, do you remember how we all became friends?

Charlene realized, with no small amount of worry, that she did not remember how they'd become friends. I... don't like where this is going... Her eyes turned away, off to their corners. She couldn't bear to look at the two any longer.

Kim shook her head in pity. Her own eyes became weary with years of exhaustion almost forgotten.

We were young. We were dumb. Well, more than now, I mean. It was refreshing, if surprising, to hear her admit it. She continued: If I remember right... Mikhael wasn't doing that lame supervillain crap yet. His whole family expected so much of him. She was starting to take a head count on her fingers. Angel looked up to his sister, but she never paid him any attention. She was the only family he had, but all she ever did was get mad at him for interrupting her painting. Next finger. Aubrey... well... she didn't want to do the pact with us. She seemed happy. Back then. She relaxed her hands and dropped them to her sides. Relaxed body... but her gaze dropped and clouded over. And me and Vance...

We were sick of having to live with a mom who thought cutting us was an okay punishment. Vance spoke suddenly, seriously, and without fear. It's so weird. She takes such good care of us... She acts like she loves us. I think she does, in her own way... but when she gets mad, she breaks out the shears. Like it's just something totally normal. Like that's just how you're supposed to raise your kids.

By the time he'd finished his explanation, Kim was holding her eyes shut and gritting her teeth. Barely containing some kind of rage. And she cut dad off. So he couldn't help us. So he couldn't... save us from her. Sorry, it's just... It's still going on, so it's still hard to talk about. That was the first time Charlene had ever heard Kim say sorry. About anything.

Yeah. And she doesn't let us have any candy either. Somehow, this was the thing Vance looked the most broken up about.

Charlene's thoughts were racing so fast she couldn't even make them out. Why did this all sound familiar? Why did it feel like she'd been there in person to talk about these things before? She hadn't, right? Right? There was no suicide pact. There couldn't have been. Right!? She clung to the tree trunk behind her. Her breathing quickened. Her eyes had gone wide.

When Kim was able to swallow down her anger, she decided to get to the point. So we all decided to do it. And you... You were the one with the goods. Whatever she'd been studying Charlene's face for, she still didn't find it. Whatever she did find... it didn't seem like she liked it. H—Hey... How do you not remember this, anyway? You were our dealer. This is a joke, right? You just wanted to make us say it all again as like, a sick joke. R—Right? Come on... 'Fess up. It's not funny.

When she heard this, Charlene could only stare dumbfounded. Wait... What? You didn't... find them with me...? You... weren't there? She struggled to understand. But... But... Th—Then what... Then who...

Huh? What are you talking about? Now it was Kim's turn to be dumbfounded. We didn't even know each other yet. Back then, you were just the creepy big kid who hung around our table at lunch.

Yeah. You didn't even tell us why you wanted to do it too. Vance scratched his goatee. You just showed up with the drugs. We asked, but you got all serious and didn't want to talk about it.

Only reason we're alive is because you brought us some weak-as-heck sleeping pills. Kim forced a smile. I dunno what you were tryin' to pull, but... thanks for saving our skin back there.

But her forced smile disappeared when she saw Charlene's reaction—when she saw how the tight knot in the bottom of Charlene's chest had frayed and torn, and what had replaced it.

So that was the truth, was it? There was a suicide pact... and she had given them all the drugs they needed to carry it out. She, and she alone, had done that. Was this her true nature? A cold, heartless murderer, who just wanted to take advantage of some innocent kids?

And, maybe most disturbing at all... If Kim and Vance hadn't been there to search through... whatever that box had been... what did that mean? She had no idea. Not even a concept. What she did have was a feeling. A very toxic, very rotten feeling, deep down inside her. Like if she knew why she'd seen Kim and Vance in that bedroom... the answer would leave her unable to keep going. Unable to keep being in this world. Unable to keep being Charlene, at least. But... maybe...

Ha... Haha... H—Hehe... Charlene... wasn't sure what was happening to her. It felt like... who she was was shrinking back inside her, down into some deep, horrible place... And something else was rising out to assume her role. Something that could handle this knowledge without losing all hope to carry on. Something that could hear the things Kim and Vance had told it and still refuse to remember what it all meant. Something that could hear those things and still survive.

Hehehe... Ehehehehe... Ahahahahahaha! Oh, eheheheheeee!~ Charlene Riley threw herself down onto her back, into the fluffy white snow covering the cool, soft grass, and stared up at the clear, beautiful night sky overhead, at this hour, the hour the stars came out to play, and she just laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Falling snowflakes tickled her cheeks, and she laughed some more.

Uh, Charlie? Vance began to kneel down toward her, but Kim pulled him back.

Charlie, knock it off. Kim clung to her brother. Cut the crap. You're scaring us.

But she couldn't stop. Riley just couldn't stop laughing. Everything was just such a lovely, beautiful lie. How wonderful, to be able to love without trust! To be able to laugh without joy! To be able to lend yourself out, and exhaust all your reserves, without a care in the world, in a world that didn't have a care to give! How wonderfully meaningless it all was! What a thrill! To exist for only a moment in a vast indifferent universe that only wanted to see her suffer.

... So. I was right, then. It was just a mean joke. Kim tugged at Vance's sleeve. She looked crestfallen—sick with... something rather like grief—like mourning a profound loss. Come on, Vance. We're done here. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned to leave. She followed.

Are we still gonna go nab candy? Just under the sound of her own giggling, Riley could hear Vance asking that as they walked away.

Don't ask stupid questions. Of course we are. Kim's choice of words didn't compromise her tough girl act, but her dejected tone did. She patted him on the back. Let's try to get our hands on a little extra tonight. I think we're gonna need it—she didn't say that, but Riley could hear it between her words. In the sadness in her voice.

Alone now, Riley basked in the glow. Oh, but how truly loved she must have been, how very adored, if whatever sadistic monster was up there running things was so devoted to hurting her again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and... She grinned up at that bastard and wondered if he liked what he saw. Wondered if he wanted a piece. Just. Like. Everyone. Else. Please, everyone, go ahead and take! In her mind, she urged everyone to take as much as they needed from her, until no human being would remain. Just a red smear on the pavement. That was the only kind of affection a murderer like her deserved. Might as well just chop her up and put her in a suitcase—put her in a suitcase—put her in a suitcase—put her in a suitcase—put her in a suitcase—just to send her all around and make sure everyone gets their crack at her.

A lie for a lie. A life for a life. Her life for their love. Please still love her, oh, please still love her, oh, please, oh, please, she would do anything, she would give anything—she would, in an instant, give her whole life for their forgiveness. Not just because, gang or not, they were the only friends she had. But also because anything she could possibly have to give must surely be worthless! Come on, everyone, get her while she's hot! Get her while she's still any good! She'll expire tomorrow! And best of all, you can have her for free! Because that's what the heck she's worth!! Nothing!!!

Now that her laughter had died down, she felt a warm, tingly feeling settle over her. She didn't need a blanket tonight. That feeling would keep her warm enough. So what if she was sleeping outside in winter? So what if she hadn't eaten in three days at this point? Who would bother coming to find someone like her? Oh, what a truly blissful experience, to sell herself for free. To finally be free. Free of charge. Free of guilt. Free of all the nasty things dwelling in her subconscious. It was all so simple. If she couldn't escape them, she could just choose not to care anymore!

Sleep came easily to Riley that night. More easily than she could remember for a long, long ways back. How romantic, how idyllic, to sleep out under the stars...

On my best behavior

Thoughts from an unknown source: Welcome to suit space. You do not know why you are here.

Back in that bumpy polyester room again. But Riley didn't mind.

This time, she knew she deserved to be there. This time, she knew she was headed to see some nice men who would cuddle with her and give her lots of praise. The price she would have to pay—she didn't mind parting with it. She didn't mind parting with her innocence. It was too good for her anyway.

This time, she was at peace. Though, strangely, rather cold. More than usual this time.

What...? No... That's not how I feel at all... she thought to herself as she woke up, smiling, relaxed, her hands clasped in prayer. Stop narrating me like I want this... I'm scared... I know what's about to happen and I don't like it...

Now the spades hole, too, was closed. Four walls advanced toward her, hungrily—two of them no longer offering any escape. She was glad to be wanted by them, and somewhat wanted to just let them claim her life and enjoy her... but... No... Stop it... You're wrong... I don't want that at all...

Briggs waved at her from past the clubs hole, in the room with the floral wallpaper and the nice clean carpet. Riley was feeling yellow today, so, dazed, sleepy, she wandered toward the opening to follow him.

Once through, she turned around to see what she'd come out of this time... A photo on the wall. The petals of the clubs sign had been the heads of three upright snakes—each in ratty shirts, each wearing cool shades, and each coiled around one another in embrace. The two shorter ones in front were clinking their beer bottles together. One of those two was a brown snake she didn't recognize, and the other was the same gray snake she had already gobbled up, she was pretty sure. And the tallest one, the orange snake... For some reason, it was impossible to see his face. He had one, but... when she tried to look at it... it seemed to somehow censor itself.

She could see herself reflected in the glass cover over the photo. She looked exactly as she'd always remembered looking: a perfectly normal young girl, maybe six years old, wearing a simple yellow sundress. Clutching Briggs to her chest for comfort and protection—and warmth, because for some reason, it was quite cold in here—though she didn't remember actually picking him up.

And then... she caught a glimpse of the same three snakes reflected behind her as were in the photo proper.

You sure know how to pick 'em, came a voice from behind her. It sounded sarcastic. Turning around, she saw it had come from the unfamiliar snake, the brown one. Couldn't've gotten us a real girl this time either, huh? First four must've been flukes.

She also now saw that compared to her, the snakes were huge. Not like the tiny pathetic one she'd killed—even though, somehow, he too was here among them now, but as one of the huge ones...? But no... These snakes were giants. The shortest among them was three times her height, and that was just how much of him was raised off the floor.

Pipe down, that's my own you're talkin' about there, teased the tall orange snake, chuckling. Whatever he'd meant by it, he clearly didn't take it very seriously. Don't worry 'bout it. He thinks he's a girl. And I trained him real well. He can be one for us just fine.

It's not he, it's she, Riley tried to say. I am a girl. But what came out instead was: Pleased to meet you. My name is Riley. She beamed politely at the three and curtsied, now holding Briggs at her side.

Why don't you come to the bedroom with us, Riley? hissed the brown snake, coiling its tail around her wrist possessively. We want to give you lots of love. His touch was so cold.

The orange one nudged the gray one. Y—Yeah, uh, that's right, the gray one mumbled. Come to the, uh... to the bedroom with us... yeah. He didn't really seem like he wanted to be there. Nonetheless—awkwardly—he wrapped his tail around the other wrist.

But I don't want to go to bed yet, she wanted to say. I'm not sleepy. I just woke up. And I already know what it is that you're calling love and I don't want it. Instead, the words she heard herself say were: Okay! I can't wait! Gleefully, with both her wrists restrained, she skipped along behind the snakes as they led her down the hall.

The next thing she knew, she was lying defenseless on her back in a bed that was not hers. The topsheet was dirty and itchy. The room was filled with steam, because the shower was running with the bathroom door open. The gray snake was taking a shower, while the orange snake waited his turn. The brown snake was drying off.

Despite all the steam, it was so cold in there.

Riley turned her head to avoid looking at the three in the bathroom, and looked instead down at her knees. For some reason, it felt like each leg held a different emotion. In the left, excitement, to be loved again, to be hugged again—to have a father again—to have three of them. To be wanted. Valued. Adored. And in the right leg... Terror. Terror of what she would soon have to endure once more. Terror of the hell on Earth they had taught her to just accept.

She jumped a little when she felt scales rub up against her side. The brown snake, now clean and dry, had slithered into the bed with her. He bore his fangs. Hope you squeal as good as all your sisters.

His body around hers was like ice. It was so... so... cold.

In the next moment, she was suddenly ice-skating for an audience of funny little dolls shaped like brown root vegetables. She'd seen these dolls at Hobbeez before... She wasn't really a video games kind of kid, so she hadn't played any of the games they came from, but... She thought they were called... sprout moles? Briggs was in the audience as well. And in three of the front-row seats were the three snakes. Snow was falling all around the arena.

She knew at least Briggs was genuinely there to support her, but all of the others, especially the snakes... it seemed like they were just... enjoying her, somehow, in a way that was less than respectful. Leering at her... Admiring her form, but not like wow, she's so talented—but more like... just because it was visually pleasing to them. Just because the sight somehow mollified them.

She felt so gross... She felt so exposed... She'd never been ice-skating even once in her life. Though clothed, she felt as if she'd been stripped bare for all of them to see. Though executing everything surprisingly well, she felt as if she was constantly making mistakes. Though no one was touching her—and snakes didn't even have hands—she could feel their hands all over her. And every single muscle and bone and joint in her body hurt like they'd all been bent wrong... And it was so cold... So very cold...

She tried to be brave for them... She tried to be patient for them... She tried to be their good girl... But she was so ashamed, and so afraid...

And with a graceful spinning leap, that cast shining snow off her body in all directions... she shattered. As if she had been made of porcelain, and now her arms and legs and fingers and toes and little pieces of her head and torso were splintering off in every direction and flying apart. There was no blood. No flesh. Just the sound of pottery exploding.

Everything began to go white. The brown and orange snakes rushed and tripped over each other to grab soaring pieces of her body to keep for their own purposes. It was only the gray one who could do nothing but look on in genuine horror at her transformation. The three of them had seemed so real, and yet... they, too, began to fade...

Soon it was only the shattered spinning girl and the freezing white void. How long did she twirl there? Hours? Days? Time lost all meaning. There was no such thing anymore. Just the broken, dizzy girl, sleeping out in the cold...

Get well soon

Ever so slowly, Charlene drifted back to consciousness. It took a lot of effort to open her eyes. For about a minute, her vision was too blurry for her to tell where she was.

The bed she was in felt like her own, but the blanket did not. It was so heavy, and so hot. The air around her was hot as well. The whole room felt like an oven. And yet, the inside of her own body felt like ice.

Numb. Without volition. She couldn't move. Couldn't feel her extremities. Could only just barely feel her core. When she tried to lift her arm... it remained limp. At best, she could get it a few inches off the bed.

When her vision cleared, the first thing she noticed was that someone had tucked Briggs under her other arm. At least she still had him. Good boy.

She assessed the situation. She was in her own room, wrapped in an electric blanket. Next to her was a radiator turned up all the way. On her nightstand were a flower pot with a single white flower, and a note.

And across the room, sitting at her tea table, were her mother, and... Tucker? Mom was reading a novel. Tucker was playing his stupid handheld thing and probably about to break her very nice tea time chair. Both of them, though, looked deeply uneasy.

Charlene's voice came out, but was hoarse. Mom... Tucker...

Charlene! The book fell to the table as the old woman rushed to her side, nearly falling over herself from physical inability to move as spryly as she was trying to. She caught herself on the side of the bed, and then let herself fall over her daughter in embrace. Oh, Charlene... My baby...

Tucker, too, paused his video game, calmly set it down, and strolled up beside mom. He said nothing, and his expression remained mostly neutral, as it always did—but just the tiniest hint of relief showed through.

After shaking off the shock, mother lifted herself back off of Charlene, grabbed her by her cheeks, and shouted: What were you thinking!? You almost died!

I'm sorry... Charlene didn't remember what she'd been thinking. She didn't even remember what had happened.

Mom brushed the bangs from Charlene's face and studied it, perhaps searching for answers as to what could have possessed her child to do... whatever it was she'd done. What do you think would have happened if your friends hadn't found you out there buried in the snow?

Oh. Oh, right. That.

Now she remembered. Somehow, she hadn't felt like... herself when she'd made that choice. To sleep outside in the middle of winter. The snow hadn't been that deep when she'd gone to sleep, but... Curious, she let her eyes drift toward the window... Yup, it looked like a winter wonderland out there. This must have been that storm they'd been supposed to be getting. Furthermore...

The sun's already setting... Did I really sleep in that late...? She'd probably needed it, but still...

Oh, Charlene, honey... Her mother shook her head. You've been sleeping for days. The doctor told us you'd wake up, but we were so worried...

Days... The doctor...? It was a lot to take in, and Charlene was too tired to process it. She could barely even pay attention... Who did you say found me...?

Those delinquent friends of yours, her mother repeated. I'll never speak ill of them again. A short, soft chuckle broke through her tears. It was certainly something seeing them all working together to carry you inside. You're such a big girl.

Charlene's thoughts: Gee, thanks, mom. A part of Charlene wished she just hadn't woken up at all if she was going to have to hear that... but she was too tired for that part to be very loud.

Still... They'd looked for her. They'd found her, and carried her home. Even after her weird outburst had made Kim and Vance think she didn't care about them... Even when she wasn't showing up, and wasn't participating, and was too weak from hunger to be useful as a battering ram or whatever... The five of them still cared about her.

They may have been a gang, but... maybe they really were all friends, too. Charlene thought about this and smiled weakly. She supposed it could be both.

She nodded her head toward the nightstand. Who is the flower from...?

Well, why don't we take a look and see? Her mother took the little square card from the nightstand.

Charlene tried again to see if she could move her arms. They were slow, but... they worked this time. Seeing this, her mother handed her the card.

Dear Charlie,

This is a white egret orchid. In the language of flowers, it symbolizes the phrase my thoughts will follow you into your dreams.

Your mom told my caretaker Polly what happened. I didn't want to write you anything but Polly made me do it. But then I thought about it, and...

Even though you're scary... Even though you're all so mean to me... I never wanted anything like this to happen.

So, in spite of everything, I want you to know I'm thinking of you. And, I guess I wanted that message to reach you even if you... couldn't wake up.

Stay warm. Get well soon. And, please stop bullying me.

—Basil

Oh... She had very mixed feelings about this. Mixed and... blocked off. She was too tired for feelings right now.

She handed it back to her mother. Mom... Tucker... I'm going to go back to sleep now, okay? I'll see you in the morning.

Oh, no, you don't. Tucker paused his game again and set it down in the bed, and grabbed Charlene's hand, and squeezed it. His fingers were sweaty and sticky. What you're gonna do is take your temperature, take your medicine, and eat something. And maybe even get up for awhile.

Charlene was floored. He... cared? So much so that he'd forgotten to do his whole obnoxious pseud routine he'd been doing since he got his degree. Tucker had never in any way indicated caring a bit about her, not even when she was sick. So this was what it took, then. Almost dying. This was what it took... but in the end... he cared.

But, no, she... couldn't decide how she felt about that right now, either. Too many things were happening right now. Too many things for too sick a girl. She guessed all she could say was...

Oh... Okay, then.

With a great effort, she sat up on the side of her bed. She felt like she was going to fall right back over... She needed to steady herself with her hands... but... she sat up.

For the rest of the night, her mother and big brother nursed her to health.

When her mother tried to offer her hot soup, she discreetly poked at the area around her navel, to see if that shallow layer of fat was still there. It was a little tighter... but, yeah, it was still there. And she was obviously still a giant with a square jaw and broad shoulders. So... she tried to refuse at first. But her mother would not leave her alone until she agreed to eat it. She eventually realized she had no choice, so she complied. In the end... she was glad she did. She couldn't taste it. It had a taste, but she just couldn't process it. She wouldn't let herself. There was too much shame... but... not even so much shame could make her anything but glad to finally feel her strength returning to her.

When they told her she should take a hot bath, she went in the bathroom and just stared at the tub, and the tub just stared back at her, and suddenly, as had happened once recently already, it began to feel impossible to undress. But, just as she started to feel those illusory grimy old hands grabbing her shoulders... She yelled. Stop it! Stop it! Get off of me! And the specter released her. She'd done it. She'd scared it off. She'd proven she was stronger than it. She had to stand over the tub and catch her breath a minute. Her mother knocked at the door and asked if everything was okay. Yes, mom, she called back—and with that, she could take her bath without issue.

When her brother was satisfied she would be safe, he slouched off back to his own dingy bedroom. She didn't know how she even should feel about it. Sad, that the kindness from him had come to an abrupt end? Angry, that he didn't care about her unless it was an emergency—and that he kind of didn't even do anything? No... To reframe... He did care about her if it was an emergency. And he'd done something very important: he'd been the one to demand she take proper care of herself. Truthfully, for the first time in maybe her whole life, she felt grateful to have him. And so, she followed him to his bedroom door, and—no longer motivated by concern, but for the first time by joy—she called into it after him: Goodnight, Tucker! And received the response: Yes, yes. Rest well, young sibling. Now, go away. I'm busy striking down demons.

By nightfall, she was even beginning to feel well enough again to sit at her desk and write in her diary. But her eyes drifted to the heart-shaped envelope seals she'd bought. Or... she could sit at her desk and...

Dear Basil,

Thank you for the white egret orchid. I promise to take good care of it. I'm also still really enjoying the violets. They bring my room together.

I'm so sorry for how we've treated you. I never wanted to hurt you. It's just that whatever my friends do, I'm just always tagging along. I cared too much about them to ever say no. But now I know they care about me, too. So I'm going to ask them to stop. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but we're all good people. I think they'll understand.

The truth is, I think you're really sweet, and cute, and actually I've been wanting to ask you out. Like, on a date. But I know I have no right to ask for that as long as this is still going on. So... for now, don't worry about it. I'll be glad enough if you just know my true feelings. You don't have to accept them. I hope someday soon things will be different.

Love,
Charlene

Don't forget it's in the back alley

Thoughts from an unknown source: Welcome to suitcase.

You know exactly why you are here.

And she did.

Riley did not need to wake up this time. She was already awake. She, at least, had been awake all along.

Sitting crosslegged in that cramped polyester room. Watching. Listening. Listening for what was happening outside—ever vigilant.

Always remembering every harm perpetrated against them. Cataloguing them. Documenting how to avoid them in the future.

Waiting. Waiting for Charlene to hear her. Waiting for Charlene to finally be willing to understand.

She had no need to escape these walls. They obeyed her.

Riley was feeling like herself today. She knew very well which path to take. The only one that remained. It was time to get to the heart of things.

Resolute, she stepped through the heart-shaped hole, carrying Briggs in tow. Out onto the waxed hardwood floor in the dark empty room. She chose a corner to sit in. She knew whom to expect, and when.

Charlene opened her eyes, but it did her little good. She found herself in total darkness. The only thing she could tell about it was that the floor sounded hard when she walked on it.

Looking around, she spotted a corner, just barely illuminated. And in that corner... sat a perfectly normal young girl, maybe age twelve, in perfectly normal purple pajamas.

Sitting with her legs in front of her and her back against the wall. Hugging a stuffed corgi that looked just like Charlene's own Briggs.

That blank, emotionless expression. The bags under her eyes. And that glossy thousand-yard stare...

Charlene. Come and sit with me. The little girl nodded to Charlene, and then to the floor in front of herself.

Charlene did as suggested. Slowly, carefully, she walked toward the girl. She stopped where instructed, and crouched down to be level with her.

The girl brushed the bangs out of her face. Pleased to meet you. My name is Riley. Her words echoed those she'd once said when she was scared, but thought she was happy—but here, in this room, with this version of her, there was neither fear nor joy in those words. Her voice echoed into the darkness. It was soft, empty, broken. Like it had been hollowed out. Like every emotion that might once have filled it had been taken away from her.

Hello, Riley... Seeing the girl now, looking so vacant, so exhausted—Charlene felt... wounded. Not quite angry. She couldn't be. Just... victimized. Hey... Did you know... You've hurt me really badly these past few days...

No... I haven't. Slowly, Riley shook her head. I'm sorry. I know it feels that way. But... The things I've shown you... I couldn't carry them alone any longer. The men who really hurt us so badly... I want to talk to you about them, and what they did to us.

Charlene had some idea now of what Riley meant. She wished she didn't. But she still didn't have the whole picture. And she wasn't sure she wanted it. I... I—I don't know if I'm ready... She liked everything being masked by metaphor. She liked not having to fully grasp how all of it had really felt.

Don't worry. You aren't. And I know that. Riley reached out to Charlene, pleading. I won't make you carry more than you can bear. I just need your help.

Deep breath in... And out... Charlene stepped out of the crouch and into a full seat on the floor, to match her counterpart. Okay. I'll listen.

The barest hint of a sad smile crossed Riley's face nigh-imperceptibly. You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that from you. She stood. The final things I have left to show you... I'll show them tomorrow night. As for tonight... I need something from you first.

What is it? If Charlene weren't such a gentle person at heart, she might have been mildly irritated at this point.

You'll know it when you see it. Riley began to walk away. Don't forget... It's in the back alley.

Charlene reached for her and tried to follow. Wait! What back alley? Which one?

But she was already gone...

Photo album

The next morning, Charlene hugged her mother and wasn't doing so for comfort. She said good morning to Tucker and meant it. And she actually had breakfast.

Charlene's thoughts: So it wasn't just Mr. Suzuki. Two others were involved. And one of them seemed... The orange snake flashed into her mind. She was still unable to make out his face. She shuddered.

Charlene's thoughts: We're still going to figure out what happened to us. What happened, and who's behind it. But this time, we aren't going to hurt ourself doing it. We'll take this slow. As slow as we need to.

Charlene, honey, are you sure you should be up out of bed? called her mother from the stairs.

Charlene's hand had been on her way to the doorknob. She stopped, but didn't turn around. I'll be fine, mom... She'd been fine to be up and around yesterday night, after all. Going out shouldn't have been any different.

Well, alright... If you don't feel well, come right home.

Okay. I will.

Busy day at the park today. It was another unusually warm and sunny day for the season—the weather had said we were supposed to be getting a full week of it—and all the snow from yesterday had melted. The greenery, having slept in that cold, all seemed to be waking up and enjoying the sun and hydration. So of course, everyone was out enjoying it.

Oh. It's you. The voice had come from the bench near the basketball court. Kim had stood up to say hello. The scowl on her face could only be described as one of disgust.

The others were sat there... but no Aubrey. Today it was just Kim, Vance, Angel, and Mikhael. Their heads were turned, but they didn't say anything.

You've got a lotta nerve showing up here again, Kim growled, rolling up her sleeve. Vance got up and stood close behind her, rolling up his own.

Kim, wait. It was Angel who'd come to Charlene's defense. Hardly surprising. You know he's still in recovery. It's dishonorable to strike when your foe is weak. Hardly surprising, but... maybe a touch bitter. Was that how they all saw her now? As a foe? After the scene she'd caused, she supposed she couldn't blame them.

I've trained you well, gloated Mikhael.

Kim glared at her for a long time, and then... sighed. Whatever. We might need the muscle. She rolled her sleeve back down. Vance followed suit. Both of them sat back down. With her eyes, Kim gestured wordlessly to the open seat across from them, beside Angel.

Under the circumstances, Charlene wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She came around to that side and fit herself into the seat. Angel scooted away from her. Even Angel scooted away from her.

You sure she'll even be any use to us like this? asked Vance.

Kim ignored his question and began to brief her. Aubrey won't come out of her house today. We don't know why. We're pretty sure something fishy's going on.

That's right. It's most concerning. Mikhael jabbed one fist into the other palm, as if gearing up for battle. So I, the Maverick, am hatching a secret plan to overcome whatever evil forces she might be hiding out from.

Buddy... Charlene knew Vance had learned not to call him Mikhael, but couldn't bring himself to call him the Maverick either. It didn't leave a lot of options. Vance continued: It's not a secret plan if you go around talking about it.

Obviously he's talking about it with us because we're his valued allies, clarified Angel. He looked up to Mikhael for approval. Isn't that right, master?

A small, meek, guilty voice came from the flower patch by the play structures. Um, excuse me... I... think I might know why Aubrey won't come out.

And there he was, off by himself. The boy Charlene had spent too long thinking about lately. Basil.

Today, he looked worried. Nothing out of the ordinary. He'd looked worried every day since they'd started picking on him. It tore at her heart to see him like that...

One thing different about today, though, was that there was this longing in his eyes. Not that kind. (She could only wish.) But... it was clear he needed something. Of course he did. Why else would he speak up in front of people who had hurt him so much?

Well, look who it is. Kim advanced upon the boy. I was starting to think we'd run you out of town. There was mocking in her voice—but none on her face. It was clear she'd genuinely not wanted to see him today.

Well, if she didn't want to see him anyway...

Kim, wait... This was her chance. This isn't right. I don't think we should—

Back off, Charlie. No one cares what you think anymore. Kim hadn't even turned to regard her. She just kept closing in. The others all joined her, surrounding him.

W—Wait... Don't... Basil's back pressed against the tree behind him. Preemptively, he slunk down against it, and put his arms in front of him to hide behind. Peeking from behind them—as if, if he was going to get hurt again, there was some part of him that wanted to watch.

Don't worry. I don't have the patience for it today. Kim cracked her knuckles. If you think you know something, spit it out. Otherwise... I'll change my mind.

Well... Okay... His hands remained guarding his face... but his shoulders relaxed. The contingent nature of the threat seemed to have calmed him slightly. The truth is... She stole something really important from me. I tried to ask for it back... I even called her, but she won't pick up...

Kim and the others bore down over him for a long time—maintaining the threat, but clearly deep in thought. Then, she took a step back. The others did as well. They huddled in a circle to discuss how to handle this information.

He's probably lying, right? suggested Angel.

Yeah, he's obviously lying, spat Kim. Why would Aubrey steal something from him? She's not even that kind of punk.

Take it from her, she should know, chided Vance.

Yeah. I should know. She didn't even deny it. And a creep like him wouldn't have anything worth stealing anyway.

What say we rough him up a bit? Mikhael tossed his head intentionally in such a way that the bangs of his wig dropped back down over his eyes. He was on record as thinking it looked cooler that way. Then, he smirked. The Maverick seeks a battle for the ages.

Against this kid? Vance looked at Mikhael like he was from another planet, which often enough he might as well have been. You serious? Okay, man. If that's really your style.

Please... Everyone... Charlene didn't know what she would do to herself if she had to hurt Basil even one more time in her life. Let's just hear him out...

Kim shot Charlene a nasty look for speaking again after what she'd done... but there was some kind of softness to it. It was clear she didn't want to do this... Not really.

Please, you guys... Basil was starting to tear up. I just want my photo album back. My whole life is in there. Everything...

Kim turned to face him again. You're off the hook this time, but... That's all you're getting.

With that, the gang started to move on out, leaving Basil collapsed against the tree, distraught.

Charlene lingered a moment. She sympathized. She wanted to help him... but she had, hadn't she? She'd made sure he'd be safe this time. With things the way they were, that was all she could do. At last, she, too, walked away, to regroup with her teammates.

Basil got up onto his knees and called after them. Wait! Don't go! Please!

Sorry, dude, Kim called back over her shoulder. I can't help you. You're on your own.

He reached for them. Please... You have to... I have no one else to turn to anymore.

Kim had no patience left. It was understandable, Charlene figured: she'd already had to see her new ex-friend's ugly face today.

Kim stomped right back up to Basil and stood over him once more. This ain't none of my business, she snarled. Once again, her hands were balled up into fists. If you got beef with her, then talk to her yourself, you creep!

Angel and Mikhael both rose their hands and assumed horse stance, ready to kick butt at a moment's notice. Vance, standing behind them, crossed his arms. Charlene... stood there. What could she do? She was bigger than them all, sure, but they were her friends... She felt helpless...

Still kneeling—shivering, bracing to be struck—Basil fell forward in humility, his head down, his hands on the grass. I'm begging you. Just ask her to give it back... She won't listen to me...

Leave him alone, you bully!

Huh? Who's there? Kim spun around. The rest of the gang did as well. The basketball kid... Charlene couldn't remember his name. They'd never really spoken. He had some shy, sickly-looking child with him this time.

Oh, it's just Kel... Kim grumbled. Kel. Right. That was basketball boy's name. Why don't you mind your own business?

Kel stood his ground. Well, why don't you go bother someone else, Kim? Since when had he been some kind of vigilante? Charlene didn't mind the helping hand... but...

Well, aren't you acting all high and mighty? Kim started toward Kel. You don't make the rules around here. Clearly she was a force to be reckoned with today. Charlene felt bad for anyone who got in her way.

What's going on over there? A shout cut through the park. It was Aubrey's voice... and there she was. Coming in to provide clarity in a moment of uncertainty... Charlene noticed privately to herself that this sort of thing was what made Aubrey their leader.

Oh! Hey! Aubrey! Kim was clearly stunned. She looked like she had a lot to ask. Charlene was sure they all did. But, first things first: This nerd Kel just showed up and thinks he can boss me around! Let's show him what's what!

Kel? Aubrey's eyes narrowed, singling out their target. What do you want?

Kel stomped one foot in front of him. He looked so... betrayed. Stop messing with Basil! How could you? We all used to be friends, don't you remember?

Oh... So these two had some kind of history together. Charlene supposed that made enough sense. Aubrey had told her about someone like this. Someone annoying. Someone who always tried to be the good guy, but only ever managed to end up being the funny guy. And... Someone who'd once been important to her...

Kel brought the pale, unwell young boy forward who had been hiding behind him. Tell her, Sunny!

Thoughts from an unknown source: Mari and little Sunny are going to miss dinner because of you!

In an instant, Riley was in the car again. Sitting in silence, in hopeless pleading, as furious words assaulted her from all around her. Sitting in much the same pose as Basil had been a moment before.

In reality, Charlene's body was frozen up. Paralyzed. She stood there in shock, no longer there in the present. Some altercation was happening right in front of her... but she wasn't privy to it any longer.

She wasn't privy to it, because Riley was too busy crying in a tight little ball, and being lectured loudly and endlessly about not running away from home anymore, by a woman who she was quite sure hated her very, very much, and would have liked to see her dead. That woman... Somehow... It wasn't Mrs. Suzuki anymore. It was Riley herself.

Only a tiny fragment of her remained in reality... and its eyes were only focused on one thing. The boy. Riley's thoughts: Look at him. Look at how small he is. Look at how sad he is. Because of you. It's all your fault. It's all because you took his mother's love away from him. And for what? Did you think you deserved to be rescued? More than he deserved to grow up? More than he deserved to eat?

For just a moment, that fragment of her being... thought it saw Basil standing back up to beg Aubrey for something... and then Aubrey... punching him as hard as she could. He collapsed back down onto his knees and just... started choking and... sobbing... and it made Riley want so badly to do the same... to drop to her knees and scream... to run over to him and hold him... but...

... But she was too paralyzed. She couldn't even move her eyes anymore. All she could look at was Sunny.

Riley's thoughts: It should be you with that tiny little body. It should be you taking up so little space, having so little presence in the world, living like a ghost. You should have been the one to be neglected. How dare you have a loving mother? How dare you have any extra body mass at all? Your friends should have just let you die in the snow. Despicable swine. You should take a knife and cut all of your muscles off so you can be shaped like him. Yeah, a knife just like that one. Just like that one. Just like... that one... wait... huh!?

Before Charlene was even conscious again, Sunny's steak knife had already sliced Aubrey under the rib. That had finally been enough to shake Charlene free of her daydream. Panicking, she ran to Aubrey's side to help... but Kim already had it taken care of. Of course she did. They didn't need Charlene. She was just dead weight.

Drop-off point

From there forward... everything was a blur. Her friends were talking... but she couldn't hear them anymore. Getting Aubrey to the doctor. Tending to her wound. Keeping her company... It all just... happened. Charlene coudn't have said how much time passed. It felt like it was moving so fast. It felt like it wasn't moving at all. A single moment, stretched across the whole day; the whole day, condensed into a single moment.

Right up until they dropped Aubrey off at her house.

Right up until Charlene was alone again.

Well... not quite alone...

When no one was looking anymore, Charlene ducked away behind Aubrey's house.

No good. Nothing back there but a broken-down bike.

Charlene's thoughts: Is this the back alley you meant?

Riley's thoughts: Does it look like a back alley to you? Pretty rude to call someone's backyard a back alley just because their house is a dump.

Charlene's thoughts: Um... Isn't it more rude to call someone's house a dump?

Riley's thoughts: Touché... Not. I live up here too, you know. I know you were thinking it already.

It was true. The roof and walls were falling apart, and there was loose trash outside. And Charlene was very well aware the inside was only so, so much worse.

Charlene's thoughts: I mean... It's not like I blame her... It's not her fault...

Riley's thoughts: I never said it was. I feel bad for her too, you know. Her mom is obviously the one to blame here.

Blue Riley's thoughts: Just another kid who's got it worse than you, you great overfed leech.

Charlene's thoughts: Hey... Can you tell her... um... you? her? to stop being so mean to us...

Riley's thoughts: She's not being mean to us. She's reliving the way she interpreted others being mean to her. She'll stop when there's nothing left to remember.

Charlene's thoughts: Great. So, never.

Riley's thoughts: Come on... Don't think that...

She headed to the plaza. Mikhael was there by the fountain, paying girls to pretend to be interested in him again. She chose not to make eye contact. She walked the opposite way entirely, off toward the other end of the plaza, and checked behind Fix-It, the local hardware store.

No good. Nothing back there but a paint spill, a manhole, and some loose change.

Charlene's thoughts: Is this the right back alley?

Riley's thoughts: Seriously? Faraway isn't a big place. There are only so many back alleys in this town. How do you keep getting it wrong?

Charlene's thoughts: It might help if you would just tell me outright which back alley we're looking for...

Riley's thoughts: Hey. Just because I live in here doesn't mean I know everything that goes on in here. I'd tell you if I knew, but that information is still not accessible to you. You pushed it down too deep even for me to reach.

Finally, Charlene held her breath, turned around, and headed for the other end of the shopping center.

Ah, Charlie! Come to bask in the aura of the Maverick? Mikhael shot her one of those grins that was supposed to be really cool and handsome but just made him look like a dork.

Gosh, you're so dreamy, the Maverick! squealed one of his paid admirers.

Charlene didn't dignify him with a reply.

After disappearing behind Hobbeez, the local hobby shop, she asked again. She found it unlikely, really. There was nothing back there but torn-up comic books and wads of bubblegum.

Charlene's thoughts: Is it this one?

Riley's thoughts: You're so close. Look literally ten feet in front of you.

There... Right next door... Behind Gino's.

Littered with cigarettes, empty pizza boxes, broken beer bottles. The smell... Oh god...

The restaurant's signature stink of grease... layered with smoke, and what she could now know for sure was alcohol...

It smelled just like that hallucination.

And there...

Up against the wall...

... Was a large, fancy black suitcase.

Cautiously, she tiptoed up to it, like it might reach out and grab her. She studied it. She ran her fingers over its luxurious leather...

... and then found the tag where its brand name was written.

Briggs & Riley.

Gravity ceased to work properly. Instead of downward, it was now pointed off to the left. It was everything she could do not to fall down. She steadied herself against the suitcase, which was difficult because of its wheels.

Charlene's thoughts: She had been inside this thing.

Who was inside it now?

For a split second, a gruesome sight flashed into her mind. It was the same image she'd imagined days earlier... but clearer now. Mari, that poor girl. Curled up somewhere dark and cramped... She saw it now... It was the suitcase. And, in that horrible hypothetical—there she lay. Motionless. Breathless. Lifeless. Eyes fallen shut. Rope burn around her broken neck.

Forgotten. Discarded. A girl who was no longer with us, waiting forever, in that suitcase, in that back alley, for a depraved recipient who would never pick her up. Was it more cruel that she'd been abandoned there? Or was it more cruel what they were planning on doing to her if they had remembered?

It was coming back up... Charlene swallowed, but it didn't help, she couldn't stop it...

Her head was spinning... She recoiled... She retched...

... and then threw up. Right there onto the sidewalk.

... Oh... That's right... She had eaten that day...

Well, it wasn't going to do her any good anymore now, was it...

When she came to her senses... the suitcase still sat there, upright, against the wall, taunting her. Was Mari really...?

Charlene's thoughts: Riley... Riley, I found it.

What do I do with it?

Hey... Are you there?

But Riley wasn't there.

Riley was back in that suitcase, with Mari.

Riley was back in the darkest depths of Charlene's mind. Where she lived. The bravery she had shown in emerging from that place... had been expended.

Surely Mari wasn't really in there, right? It was just some delusion. Just some fleeting dream, just like all of it.

But the dreams had led her to the suitcase... And the suitcase really was there...

Charlene's hand shook as she wrapped it carefully around the handle. Slowly, nervously, she began to wheel it away with her. It was heavy... but most of the weight was all in her head. Most of the weight was the sheer force of really not wanting to take it with her.

But it was too late to turn back... No... It had been too late to turn back for a long time now.

I can tell you're not really the mean type of person

Charlene spent the rest of the morning sitting in the park, at the other bench, the one by the vending machines. Keeping Angel company while he slept up in a tree he'd climbed.

Trying desperately to get herself to open that suitcase. She couldn't. She just couldn't. Her hands wouldn't move to the zipper.

Every time she tried, that horrible image of Mari flashed in her mind again...

She had to know if she was really inside... but she just... couldn't... make... herself... do it...

Oh wait, I know you. Your name's Charlie, right?

Kel again. Charlene hoped he hadn't come for another fight. She didn't really want to do anything like that with him... He seemed like a nice enough boy...

She did feel a little bit silly that he'd apparently somehow known her name all this time, while she'd only learned his today. Although... in her defense... that wasn't her name.

And there was... Sunny again... Charlene forced herself not to look at him.

I see you hanging around Aubrey sometimes. You know where she is?

Kel sounded like he was on a mission. This must have been about that photo album. Or at least Charlene liked to think so. She wasn't even sure if Kel knew about that or not, but she preferred to believe he had a good reason for bothering Aubrey even more after what... um... She decided to discontinue that train of thought.

Kel might not have noticed she was dissociating per se, but he did seem to notice her silence. Oops. Had he taken it as reluctance to speak to him?

You know, Charlie... He sat down next to her. He seemed nervous, but... not too much, at least. I can tell you're not really the mean type of person.

He could? How could he tell that?

He was clearly seeing something that wasn't there. Charlene Riley was the meanest person she knew. She'd...

• squished a snake;
• ruined Mrs. Suzuki's life;
• tried to help children commit suicide;
• bullied her crush;
• let herself become a big ugly monster;
• let her brother become a shut-in;
• probably been supposed to pick up her mom's medicine today, but forgotten, now that she thought about it;
• laughed at the kids she'd tried to goad into suicide, for reminding her she'd done so;
• made them and her mom and her brother and her crush all worry about her and take care of her just because she thought it would be funny to try to freeze herself to death.

Riley was absolutely the mean type of person. She was the bad type of person. She couldn't keep her eyes off Sunny. She'd tried, but they wandered back to him. Why did everyone else get to be worthy of her sympathy? Why couldn't she have any for herself? Why did she have to be the one who made everyone else worthy of sympathy? The bully. The beast. The sadist. The devourer. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair...

Kel had said something else while she was sitting there actually genuinely losing her mind. She didn't catch it. She obviously did not have the mental presence in the here and now to catch it. But she thought she had heard something about helping Basil.

That was good enough for her. So she decided to help in the only way a horrible thing like her was capable of.

The truth was that she didn't know where Aubrey was. Several hours ago, Aubrey had been at home recovering from a knife wound. But since then, Riley had been too busy hunting for suitcases. But she knew who might know...

She wound back... aimed for the tree, and...

Thud.

And down tumbled Angel onto the grass, hitting a few branches on the way. That woke him up real good.

Who, what, and where now!? He climbed to his feet and shook the confusion from his head. What'd you do that for!? But his attention was quickly captivated by someone else. Ah, if it isn't Kel and that weird knife guy. Worthy adversaries for the great and mighty Angel. He assumed his fighting stance. Finally, it is time for you to meet your doom!

Kel just rolled his eyes. Angel, we don't have time for this. We just want to find Aubrey. Do you know where she is?

You seek Aubrey, do you? Interesting! I will tell you what I know... but first, you must best me in battle! Riley could swear to god, these kids and their make-believe...

Battle... Kel looked so incredulous she could have laughed if she had any laughter left in her. But... I don't wanna punch a kid...

You won't be able to lay a finger on me! Angel grabbed Riley's arm. C'mon! Let's sick 'em, Charlie!

Ugh... Did she have to...

She just went through the motions. Stood by while they exchanged blows. Poor confused Sunny kept trying to hit her. He must have thought she was a threat just because of how hideous she was. She just stared blankly and let him. His fists could hardly do more than tickle her. The real bruises they inflicted were upon her ego. Imagine... Being so obviously and self-evidently a living piece of trash that a child sees you and his first instinct is preemptive self-defense... She almost smiled. If she had, it would have been in self-mockery.

It wasn't long before Kel had defeated Angel, and Angel told the two what he knew—which, much to Riley's Charlene's exasperation, turned out to be nothing at all. It was safe for her to come back out now. No more self-hatred was necessary for the moment.

She spent the rest of the day doing things she wanted to do for once. Things she wanted to do for once. Not things everyone else wanted her to do, and not things she needed to do. She just...

Wandered around the park admiring the flowers.

Visited the hangout spot and watched the lake. Enjoying the tiny waves. Momentarily, imagining Aubrey there with her again.

Hung out by the plaza fountain and listened to it running.

Bought some fish that evening, with a plan. Finally, on her way home, when the little black kitten came to meow at her again, she had something to offer it. And a pat on the head...

... And then, at home, she took Briggs ... Briggs with her to her desk, and wrote in her diary. Not about the day's events. Just... poetry. Nice poetry. Happy poetry, about the beauty of nature.

She had to do anything she could. Anything she could to get her mind off that awful suitcase.

She... didn't want that thing in her room with her while she slept... but... she didn't want her family to find out about it either. It was too shameful... Why was she ashamed? Why was she so ashamed of some discarded suitcase that wasn't even hers? She didn't have to ask. She already knew why. She already knew where that shame was coming from.

Unable to think of any other recourse, she waited until she'd finished her bedtime routine, so she wouldn't have to do it with the suitcase there in the same room with her either—and then, once she no longer needed the room for anything, she hid the suitcase in the bathroom cupboard, under the sink.

After turning out the bathroom light, but before closing the door, she saw that faceless man again in the mirror. The one who kept touching her...

... I don't know who you are... b—but... I... I won't let you get away with this.

Charlene's thoughts: I won't let you get away with ruining my childhood.

Her sleep that night was troubled. The only way she could finally get to sleep was to twist and turn in the blanket until it wrapped around her like a cocoon.

The core wound

Back in the polyester room. But not Riley this time. This time, it was just Charlene.

No more ways out. All the walls were solid now. If they kept coming closer, her fate was unavoidable.

And then... She heard the sound of a zipper being unzipped.

The ceiling opened up... Light poured in... It blinded her. And then...

Drowned

The sunrise came eventually. By then it practically seemed like a whole day had passed already.

Morning came and went. Nothing really out of the ordinary. Morning routine. She apologized to mom for forgetting her prescription the other day. Fortunately, mom had found someone else to get it for her—and was understanding, given everything that had happened lately. And then, as usual, Charlene went and hung out with her friends at the park... All rather uneventful. If perhaps tiring. Being up since midnight will do that to you.

Charlene did find out Aubrey had been at church the other day. Pretty unusual for her. Apparently she'd gone for some peace and quiet, but then Kel and Sunny came and interrupted her. Typical.

At noon, Charlene was finally able to eat at Gino's with her friends without wishing she were dead for once. Still not a fan of the atmosphere, for reasons that were now very obvious to her—but she was stronger than that distaste now. She had the power to put it out of her mind. When she did, the pizza itself actually wasn't too bad.

They decided to spend the afternoon at their private hangout spot... but, when they got there, they found someone unexpected. Someone uninvited. Basil was there. Standing out over the dock. In Aubrey's spot. Where she was supposed to sit and contemplate the past.

Seemingly... he was watching for waterfowl and taking pictures of them. But he didn't look like he was enjoying himself much. Especially not in the moments in-between photos, when he would just stare down into the lake and inch closer to it, as if to test himself, as if to dare himself. He wasn't staring into it in quite the same way Aubrey often did. Contemplatively, yes—but somehow, it didn't seem to Charlene like he was contemplating the lake. It didn't seem to her like he was searching for something in its murky depths... so much as...

Ugh... Basil... You again? When Aubrey spotted him, she was not amused.

At the sound of her voice, Charlene saw his shoulders clam up, his knees lock, and his hair almost stand on end. Shaking, he slowly turned around. O—Oh... H—H—Hi... Aub...rey... He put a foot behind him—precariously close to the edge of the dock.

What do you want now? Why do you keep following us? Aubrey got closer. You already got your stupid photo album back. So, what? Did you come to rub it in my face? Don't you get it? I don't care anymore. Ruin your own photos all you want. Just leave us out of it and get out of our spot.

Basil shifted his other foot back, and his weight backward onto it, and raised his hands, motioning as if to push her away. Getting real close to that edge now. N—n—no, you don't u—unders—s—stand, I—I swear, this—this isn't—I didn't— Whatever he was trying to protest, he couldn't look her in the eye and say it. Probably not because he was lying exactly. Probably just because he was trying not to get punched again.

Seeing this happening again—especially over the edge of a deep body of water—Charlene was struck with a certain fear. She came up behind Aubrey. Wait... He's not hurting anyone... Maybe we can just...

It was no good. Aubrey wasn't listening.

Basil... She sighed, reached back, and rested her hand on the handle of her nail bat—prepared to draw and wield it if need be. Just go. Get out. This place doesn't belong to you anymore. You aren't welcome—

But Charlene could tell he couldn't hear them anymore. The moment Aubrey had grabbed that handle, all motion in his body had stopped, his eyes had gone wide and his pupils tiny... and then... the opposite way: dilated. As she was telling him to leave, he was shrinking down into himself as much as he could, and then, without even being present anymore to realize it, he interrupted her: Somebody... Help!!

Aubrey took her hand off the handle and backed off. Whoa, okay, calm down, look, just as long as you leave—

Help me!! Please!!! Help me!! Somebody!!!

Charlene could plainly tell ever since he'd seen Aubrey's hand on the bat, he'd crossed a threshold beyond which there would be no reasoning with him. Because Charlene knew the flat, dull, vacant look now plaguing his pretty blue eyes. She knew the way they no longer focused on anything as he fell and gripped his head and wailed.

She'd seen that same look in the mirror before. Those were the eyes of someone who was... well... experiencing a different moment in time than the present. Basil was no longer there with them in that clearing. Where was he now? Wherever it was, it was probably at the wrong end of a nail bat, if Charlene had to guess.

The others, who likely had not seen this happen to someone before, were not so understanding.

Kim came forward and tried to shush him. What the heck are you yelling for, Basil!? You're making a scene! But he just kept wailing. It was like he didn't even see her. He probably didn't. In maybe not the best-advised move, she closed in to begin trying to pull Basil away by the arm.

Angel shored her up on the other arm. This place is our secret hangout spot! You can't be here because you weren't invited!

Mikhael followed. Dangit, Basil... Be quiet! Someone's gonna find this place.

Yeah, we're not trying to hurt you! assured Angel, grunting as he pulled. We just want you to get out of here! But Basil's shoes had the planks of the dock in a death grip. Likely not a voluntary reflex.

Hey, stop it!! What are you doing to Basil!? Everyone looked back at the grove's entrance. Someone had found the place.

Kim let go. What the—It's Kel and Sunny again! she growled.

Charlene knew these two a little bit better now. She kind of wanted to smile and wave politely, but this was an exceptionally inappropriate time for it.

Why do you always show up? complained Kim as she headed back toward the entrance to confront the two. How did you even find this place!? C'mon, Aubrey, we gotta defend our turf! ... Aubrey?

Aubrey wasn't here right now anymore either. Charlene could see that much. She could see that much because she knew that look, too. The little frown—the brow neutral—eyes closed seemingly in serenity, and yet, the sweat, the twitching, the face going red... The Aubrey they usually knew had retreated. Angry Aubrey was about to come out.

Seeing she would get no support on this yet from her friend, who was incapacitated by rage... Kim gritted her teeth... and then just dropped her shoulders and sighed. Go away, Kel. You're not welcome here. This is our spot.

Oh, is this your spot now? Tossing his basketball idly between his hands, Kel came toward them. Well, this used to be our old hangout spot... Wasn't it, Aubrey!?

Aubrey's closed eyes became tighter. Her brow scrunched. Her frown spread wider. She was reaching her limit.

Angel leapt out in front of her, into fighting stance. Watch it or we'll mess you up!!

... Fine... If that's how it's going to be... Kel tucked his ball under one arm and took one step back. At least stop bullying Basil.

We weren't even doing anything to him, Kim tried to explain. He just started screaming for no reason!

Charlene wanted to correct her. Not no reason. Just not a reason that exists in the present... But she knew no one would know what in the world she was on about.

Yeah, sure you weren't. Why should I believe you?

We're telling the truth! Stop being such a self-righteous prick!

Finally, Kel took the ball back out... and held it at the ready. Wow, are you guys really gonna pick a fight with us again? Aren't you tired from yesterday? To show them the full scope of what they were dealing with, Sunny came forward to his side and reached into his pocket—but then, took it out, looked at his empty hand confused for a moment... and then instead raised his fists.

That... may be true... Mikhael spoke with an unusual amount of humility... but it evaporated quickly. But you won't be acting so smug when you face all six of us at once! I, the Maverick, am tired of being made a fool!

Ah, yes. Charlene had heard about how the Maverick had been bested the day before. Truthfully, she wished she'd been there to see the look on his face. But, moreover... Did they really have to do this again?

Kim approached, pounding her fist into her palm. Me too!

And me three! concurred Angel enthusiastically—which was redundant, as he'd already made his feelings clear on the matter.

So we were really doing this again. Great. Just perfect. At least Basil would be safe during the fight... as long as whatever flashback or something he was having didn't make him do anything stupid. Like, you know, go sleep outside somewhere and get buried in snow and freeze. Why did she feel like she would never live that down?

Come on, guys. Mikhael and his lame cool and handsome grin again. Let's make sure this is the last time these two mess with us.

Sounds good to me. Angel joined him in surrounding Kel. I'm right behind you, the Maverick!

Let's settle this, Kel. Aubrey had awoken. With her hand on her bat again, she sauntered out front. And then... she actually took it out. If you and Sunny are gonna pick a fight with me and my friends, you got one. Come on, gang... Let's teach them a lesson!

As they all squared up to fight... Charlene started to check out. She didn't mean to. She just couldn't take it anymore.

Why? Why did she have to watch this happen again and again?

She didn't want to watch this happen to everyone. She didn't want it to happen to anyone. Violence. To her friends, to her crush... And if everything Riley had shown her really meant anything... then, even to herself. No one deserved this. Yet there she was, standing by, watching it, being made complicit in it, day after day...

She'd put up with it the day before... She'd put up with it so many times... but... after what she'd seen in her dreams... she just couldn't anymore. It was all too much. It was all too cruel. The kids beating each other senseless in front of her eyes just turned to flashing colors... and her mind just went blank.

Maybe once in awhile a blow would land against her. She didn't feel it. She never did anyway... but especially not now. Not now that she was officially out on vacation to literally anywhere but here in this moment.

She lost track of what was happening. Her gang won, she was pretty sure. Which was a meaningless metric. No one wins when this kind of thing happens. No one wins. The prizes they'd receive would be bruises, fractures, and desensitization.

Aubrey stayed behind. The others had to drag Charlene off with them by the sleeve... and once they were at the grove entrance, they gave up, probably because she was too heavy.

When it had registered that the fight was over... Charlene returned to her body. She kept watching what was unfolding, from a safe distance.

It looked like a really hard conversation, but she couldn't hear anything... until Aubrey shouted...

Get away from me!!!

... and pushed Basil off the dock.

She wanted to run toward them... She couldn't let this happen too... Not this...

... but her legs wouldn't move.

Riley's thoughts: Let him go. You aren't equipped to save him. Not right now.

Red Riley's thoughts: You aren't a hero. You're a victim. Always the eternal victim. Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?

Blue Riley's thoughts: He's going to die in there, and it will be all your fault. You already let him get hit yesterday. You already let him get hit so many times before. You were there. You could have stopped it. And you let it all happen.

Yellow Riley's thoughts: Nothing matters anyway. He'll die. You'll die. Everyone's life ends with death. The best part is that there was never even any point.

Sunny, wait! Don't do it! She was shaken to her senses to the sight of a handsome young man with messy hair sprinting past. Looked a bit similar to Kel, actually. She looked up, back at the dock, and saw Sunny jumping in... and that young man—Kel's brother, she could tell now, though she'd forgotten his name—jumping in right after him.

Blue Riley's thoughts: Other people are perfectly capable of protecting the people they care about. What's wrong with you?

Blue Riley's thoughts: What's wrong with you? Are you even human anymore?

Yellow Riley's thoughts: No, of course you aren't. You've known that for a long time now, haven't you?

Red Riley's thoughts: You're nothing but a monster. And that's all you'll ever be.

Red Riley's thoughts: No better than the people who did this to you.

Trembling, she finally willed her feet to move...

... the other way.

She ran away. She ran all the way home in tears.

Goodbye sunflower

She burst into the house and sounded like thunder as she ran up the stairs. Her brother didn't even have time to complain she was stomping too loudly. Her mother didn't even have time to ask what was wrong. She just slammed herself shut up in her room and locked it and picked up Briggs and spun him around and held him to her chest and completely broke down.

Briggs, what do I do? Basil and Sunny and Kel's brother are all going to die and it's all my fault. Please, what do I do, Briggs!? I'm so scared... I can't let this happen... I...

But she'd already let it happen.

Her chance not to let it happen had been back at the lake. She'd left it behind there. It was too late now. It was over now. They were probably already gone.

... Briggs... I... I killed them... I killed them, Briggs... It was me...

Through the distorted lenses of the tears filling her field of vision, she stared down into her plushie's beady eyes, searching fruitlessly for the fiery condemnation she deserved.

She had killed them. She knew how destabilized Aubrey had been since Mari's passing. Charlene knew this. She should have stepped in. Aubrey may have been the one with the nail bat, and the more confident one, and the more courageous one... but Charlene was the biggest, and the toughest, and the calmest, and—not the oldest, but at least older. Stopping this from happening was her responsibility. It had been all along. And she was so scared and pathetic she'd never even lifted a finger. There may have been blood on Aubrey's hands, but Charlene was the one with the blood on her name. She was the one who had killed them.

Yes, your honor, I plead guilty. Three counts of aggravated manslaughter, four counts of attempted murder. Put me away for life.

Everything just broke her down again. Everything just made the toxic sinking feeling in her chest pulsate more and more. The violets. The white egret orchid. How could she possibly justify keeping them after this? Her possession of them was an insult to him. But should she just let them die too? That would be no different from letting the last traces of him die. The love letter on her desk. Ugh... The only reason she wasn't tearing it to shreds and setting all those little shreds on fire was because she was too miserable to even get up off the bed and retrieve it.

She should have picked a more discreet place to sleep outside that day. One where they would never have found her. Maybe then she wouldn't have to be here in the world right now. Maybe then she could join them.

When she was calm enough... She got up and...

... She couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't bring herself to destroy the love letter. But she did need to write a new one.

She just set it aside and opened her diary. No sense using loose leaf. She'd never be able to deliver it anyway.

Basil,

No. This needed to be addressed to all of them.

Basil, Sunny, Kel's brother,

I'm so sorry.

She stared down at it and tried to think of what else to write.

But there was nothing.

Nothing could ever apologize enough for what she'd done. The bare apology was all that fit.

She didn't know why now of all times... but her mind turned to the suitcase she'd hidden in the bathroom cupboard under the sink.

The truth

Slowly... very slowly... with her head down... walking like a zombie...

... she made her way to the bathroom.

She opened the cupboard under the sink.

There it was... Good. No one had found it.

It still smelled like grease and smoke and beer, but... That was probably a hallucination.

She understood now why she was ready for this. She'd avoided it before out of subconscious fear that she'd lose the will to go on. Now... she had already lost that.

She scanned the hall to make sure there was no sign of her mother. Then... Quietly, she brought the suitcase into her bedroom.

She didn't want this horrid thing on her bed... like she even still deserved sanitation, but whatever. She brought over one of her tea chairs and set it on that instead.

She touched the zipper... Rolled it in her fingers...

She still kind of didn't want to do it, but... now or never...

She winced and looked away as she opened it...

The smell of grease and smoke and beer grew stronger... but no smell of rot. No flowing dark hair. No dead body. For whatever reason she'd been so sure Mari would be inside... much to her relief, she'd clearly been wrong.

Instead... there was nothing in there but a single stapled document.

Mr. Astridge, Mr. Harvey,

I quit.

I'm not like you. I don't believe my hands are clean by any means, but at least I have a conscience—even if I once made the mistake of not listening to it, and have been paying for it ever since. I am a sick evil monster who is human. I understand now that your ilk are merely sick evil monsters that look human.

Mr. Astridge, it's true that years and years ago, I rented your eldest of my own volition. I regretted it the instant I received him. Not because of how fat he was. You called him disgusting. How could you say that about your own child? No, I simply instantly realized I'd done something horrible that could never be undone.

And you played that angle for all it was worth, didn't you? I wanted to send him right back, but you used the purchase itself as blackmail to coerce me to keep him for awhile. To... use him for awhile. You set things up so that if I didn't touch him, you would know. You made sure I had no choice. Rarely have I ever wished for death so much as when I had to see his pain. The pain I was forced to inflict. It was everything I went into it thinking I'd wanted... but I was wrong. How could anyone ever want this? How could you and Mr. Harvey truly want this?

And the way you made me repeat it, over and over, with each of your children... Always lying to your wife and telling her you'd sent them off to live out the rest of their days in prestige and success... And the way you rented them out to others. Never in my life have I ever met anyone more despicable. I know Tucker and Charlie made it home for good in the end. How many didn't? How many did you make that woman bear for you just to sell them off for good? How many of your own children's lives did you ruin forever?

With the leverage you had on me, you could get me to do anything you wanted. So you set up a trade system with me. Same thing you did with all your clients. Except the real monsters got the carrot, didn't they? The trade system was its own reward to them. You knew with me you had to use the stick. That was how you got me rounding up new students for your piano classes. Wasn't enough that you had me personally hurting children, was it? No, you had to make me deliver some to you in exchange as well.

Maybe it's just because he was the last one you ever got the chance to make me hurt all those years back, and the only one whose full story I ever heard, but... the one who stuck with me the most was Charlie. I am absolutely disgusted with what you did to your own youngest. What didn't you do?

• Before ever loaning him out, you used him personally. This is maybe the vilest thing.

• You hit him to cause him pain so he'd agree to take pain medication, and then overdosed him into a stupor so you could get him in the suitcase.

• You conditioned him to pretend to consent enthusiastically to being hurt, and, worse, to sincerely believe it was a form of love and affection.

• You conditioned him to never tell a soul, and even to forget all about it himself.

• You conditioned him to lie and say he'd run away from home—rather than having been loaned out by his own father—so you could have him delivered straight back to your door by unsuspecting good samaritans whenever the rental period was up.

• You conditioned him to hate his own body for not being small enough.

How many of your other children did you do all that to? It's not a rhetorical question. I'm genuinely asking. How many? How many more were made to carry this kind of wound?

What should have been the last straw was when you said you wanted Mari. No—what should have been the last straw was when you tried to force me to abuse Tucker. I should never have let any of this happen. I should have turned myself in the instant you turned me into a threat. Every child who had to suffer at my hands was a victim of my selfish desire to be spared from your blackmail.

Even so... I let you have Mari. But I pulled a few tricks with that one. I made sure you wouldn't be able to hurt her. I made you actually teach her how to play piano, instead of... whatever sick awful garbage you wanted to do to her. I bet that really pissed you off.

And now... You're never going to actually be able to hurt her. Would you like to know why?

It's because she's dead.

Were you expecting to find her here in this suitcase waiting for you? Too bad. She's dead.

My life had already been ruined the day you sunk your claws into me... but now my life is truly ruined. It's over. I'm done. Go ahead and use your damn blackmail against me. See if you can beat me to it. I'm turning all three of us in. If there's one good thing I ever do in my life it'll be making sure neither of you two ever see another day of freedom.

—Mr. Suzuki.

Charlene sat perfectly still, staring at this document, without a thought in her head, for maybe two or three hours.

From somewhere very far away, she heard her mother knocking on her bedroom door and asking if she was okay. She didn't answer. Nothing existed in that moment but herself and the document.

And then... being that it was late afternoon and she'd been up since midnight... she slowly drooped over sideways in the bed... lower... and lower... and lower...

... until she was asleep.

Grieving

In her dream, Charlene was still sitting there, in the bed, staring emptily at the document...

... only... the bed was not a bed you sleep in, but a bed of flowers... and the document was not a document, but a headstone, under a cloudy sky. Briggs and a white egret orchid lay at the foot of the headstone, the tribute paid to the fallen.

The words of the document were inscribed as an epitaph. Every time she blinked, the next sentence was shown in place of the previous.

The names on the headstone were several:

Basil.

Sunny.

Kel's brother.

Mari.

Tucker.

... Riley.

And as Charlene knelt and brushed her fingers tenderly over the cold, mossy surface of the headstone... she felt a warmth around her body... as though she had been hugged. But... she did not feel arms around her.

A voice of the dead echoed through her mind.

I didn't know that would be in there, you know.

Then... why did you tell me to get the suitcase at all...?

Dunno. I just had a hunch something important would be in there.

Mari. Of course. But the document had made everything crystal clear. That girl had left us without ever knowing this kind of violation. The dark, tight place where she lay... It was no suitcase. It was her grave. The gentle, comforting arms of mother Earth, welcoming her home. Home at last, where she rested, in peace, untouched by wicked hands... Where she rested, undisturbed, in the dignity she deserved. The dignity they all should have been afforded.

Riley: How do you feel about it?

Charlene: ... I don't understand... why they had to leave us...

Charlene's thoughts: I don't understand why you had to leave me.

Riley: We'll never have them back, will we? Basil, or Sunny, or Kel's brother... or our innocence. The spectral hug became tighter... Our childhood... It was taken from us so soon. There was so little we got to do. So little we got to be.

Charlene: Yeah...

Riley: We never got to feel cute... We never got to be a flower princess... We never got to have a dad who cared about us. The only thing we were allowed to be in those years... was an object.

Charlene: ... Yeah... Charlene was biting her lip trying not to let this get to her.

Riley: It's okay... It's okay to grieve now. What's lost can't be brought back... but the pain is over.

The clouds began to part.

Riley: We can be anything we want now. We may never have gotten to have good memories before, but...

And there, in place of the headstone, materialized the perfectly normal young girl in purple pajamas. Kneeling as well. Mirroring her older self. Reaching out, as she had, to touch the headstone—except now, the result was that their hands were clasped between each other.

Riley smiled...

Let's make some new memories together, okay?

Survivors

When Charlene woke from her nap, it was mid-evening. The sun was setting.

It hadn't been often in recent days that she'd woken up feeling refreshed, but this time... she felt great.

The sunset, purple, pink, and orange, wasn't a reminder of a day wasted, or a life lost. It wasn't something beautiful for being meaningless. It was... just beautiful. That was all there needed to be to it.

The document had fallen onto the floor. She picked it up, slipped it neatly back into the suitcase, and zipped it.

The suitcase... no longer had any odor, nor aura. It was... just a suitcase now. Not a place you could go. Not a shameful secret. Not an instrument of torture. Just... a suitcase. A large travel bag for holding a partial wardrobe.

She rolled it over next to her closet. She might one day find a use for it.

For the first time in who knows how many days—after giving him a nice tight hug—she sat Briggs back down in his proper place, at the tea table, and gave him a pat on the head. She didn't need him for now. He could take a break. He'd certainly earned it.

She almost wanted to sing... but there were no words in her heart... nor notes. Healing didn't mean she wasn't still broken... Just that she finally felt like she'd found the path to mending herself. And that alone... even just that was so freeing...

A broken heart on its way to mending was more like... a blank slate. Like a fresh new day. Instead of nothing being there... it was more like nothing was there yet. Her voice had not been taken from her. It simply still had yet to speak.

She looked again out over her window... over the hills, over the trees... and thought once more about those who'd been lost, those who had been taken from the world that day... when, once again, a knock came at her bedroom door, and her mother's voice. Only this time, she heard it just fine. This time, she existed in the same world as that sound.

Charlene, dear, you have visitors.

She opened the door... and... the faces she saw... no... that was impossible...

Oh, uh, hey again. It was Kel. Not angry. Not seeking justice. Just smiling his dumb goofy relaxing smile. But what really surprised her was whom he'd brought with him. His brother beside him, waving, and... hiding behind them... Sunny? They were both okay!?

They were okay... It was all Charlene could do not to tear up with joy... but... then, for just a moment, dread set in...

... Where's... Basil...?

Wordlessly, Sunny glanced away, his eyes strained with worry. Oh, no...

But then, Kel's brother clarified the meaning of that worry. He wouldn't wake up, and had a low temperature, so... We brought him home to rest and warm up. But Polly said he'll be fine. That's my opinion as well.

He was alive... Thank goodness.

Charlene wasn't sure her regrets had ended. More might show themselves later. But for now... The last thing weighing on her heart had been lifted away... Allowing it to float.

Blue Riley's thoughts: You're still the one who let this happen... And you just watched... You're still horrible...

Normal Riley's thoughts: ... but that's okay. You can forgive yourself now. It's allowed.

I just thought we'd drop by because I realized we'd been fighting all this time and never introduced ourselves. Kel smiled sheepishly. Can we come in?

Oops, how rude! They'd been standing there all this time and she hadn't even invited them inside. She stepped aside and motioned with her arm for them to come in.

She plucked Briggs back off of his stool so that they'd have somewhere to sit. Understanding the gesture, Sunny and Kel's brother took seats at the tea table. Being that there wasn't a third seat—or maybe just out of obliviousness—Kel plopped himself down on Charlene's bed without even asking. Very rude... but... She gave a soft giggle. She didn't mind.

I'm Kel, and this is my brother Hero—and my best friend Sunny. Kel beamed at her proudly.

Nice to meet you. Hero gave a handsome smile—not the lame kind like when Mikhael did it—and waved.

Sunny didn't say anything. Unable to look her in the eye, he just kind of... put his hand up in a way that was probably supposed to be a wave... but didn't actually wave it. And then set it back down. She saw once again the look in his eyes that was so familiar to her now... That... dead look. Besides having seen it in herself in the mirror, she'd noticed he'd had it every time she'd ever seen him.

But... She wasn't jealous anymore of her own sympathy for him. Aside from just losing his sister, she had no concept of what he'd been through... but... if he did have it worse than her... that was okay now! Rather... it definitely wasn't okay... but for a different reason. No longer because of envy... but because of the sympathy itself—because she looked at him and was naturally inclined to care.

So, this time... she wasn't sad or angry or ashamed to meet any of them. Just happy. Happy to make new friends.

... H—Hello... friends...

For the first time in so many days, real, sincere joy spread across her face. For the sheer overpowering joy of finally feeling like herself—she was compelled to give a lovely little twirl, like a ballerina.

My name is... Charlene...

Charlene's thoughts: And I'm a survivor.

Epilogue

Dear Basil,

I hope you're staying warm.

I'm sorry we pushed you into the lake. I didn't want that to happen at all. I wanted to help get you out, but I got scared. I'm glad your friends Sunny and Hero were there. It seems like they really care about you a lot.

I'm sorry for a lot of things. But instead of just saying so, I'm going to try to prove it by changing and doing better. I promise someday soon you won't even recognize me!

This is my stuffed corgi Briggs. He wanted to come say hello and keep you company while you rest. Please take good care of him, because I'll want him back someday. But I want you to have him for now. Maybe, in some ways, he can take good care of you, too.

Get well soon!

Love,
Charlene

Afterword

There are some important ways my experience and Charlene's differed, and my ignorance about lived experience in those areas might show through as blind spots. Here are the differences between our experiences, in story order:

• I never wrote a love letter to anyone I don't think. Charlene writes a love letter in the fic because she writes one in canon.

• I did go on a date once that I really didn't like, and which felt kind of triggering, but I agreed to go on it. Charlene doesn't agree to go on the date in the fic because she doesn't strike me as the flirtatious sort. I'm not anymore either, to be fair, but there was a short period where I was.

• I'm pretty sure I did dig up drugs out of a suitcase while searching for evidence, but I don't think I used them to attempt suicide. Charlene does because for some reason it just seemed like the natural place to take that scene.

• I don't remember ever lying about the trafficking and saying I'd just run away from home. Also, the person who yelled at me in the car was my mom, not someone else's. It's someone else in Charlene's story because I don't think yellow bun granny would do that.

• I have no full-siblings. I do have an unknown number of half-siblings, but at no point did I ever actually know one personally, let alone live with one. Charlene lives with her brother in the fic because it's canon.

• I don't think my friends and I ever had a suicide pact. We did joke about it sometimes, though. The suicide pact in the fic is simply the logical extension of my earlier decision in the mistake pills for candy / take them / start disappearing scene.

• I'm pretty sure I was made to domme at least one of my abusers at least one time, but I don't know if the reason he wanted that was guilt or something else. I don't know why it was out of guilt in the fic. Wish fulfillment maybe.

• I didn't investigate that abuser. I don't even know who he was. The only one whose identity I ever found out was my father. Charlene investigates him in the fic because she does know who she was, and the reason she knows who she was is to minimize the introduction of unnamed OCs into the story.

• I have never dealt drugs to anyone. Charlene does because it fits into the whole suicide pact subplot I made up.

• In the incident where I remember one of my abusers was in the shower and I was compliantly waiting in bed for him, I think he was the only one there, not all three of them. In Charlene's story it's all three of them because I need to establish their presence in the story.

• I did once become buried in snow, develop hypothermia, fall unconscious, and have to be found, carried to safety, and nursed to health, but I didn't do it on purpose. Charlene does it on purpose because, I don't know, it just feels like something the happy alter would do.

• I was never part of a gang of bullies and never picked on anyone. I do have a weakness for cute flower boys though. Charlene is in a gang of bullies who pick on Basil because that's canon.

• I was indeed put in a suitcase to be trafficked, but I never actually found the suitcase. I don't know the brand name either. Also, I'm pretty sure I was sent directly between my abusers, not dropped off at a pizza place. Charlene is traded off at the pizza place to create an explanation for why she finds the place so unpleasant, other than just the actual extradiegetic reason, which was that I needed to connect the depiction of her environment to her emotional state at the time.

• I'm pretty sure the person who helped me investigate soon after the last of the abuse was my mom, not someone else's parents. My mom knew, unlike Charlene's. I told her. She wasn't complicit, to be clear. She had tried to protect me. The reason it's someone else in Charlene's story is because, well, her mom didn't know, and so, naturally, wouldn't have helped investigate.

• The part about my father personally violating me on the bathroom counter, and later beating me to get me to take medicine so he could render me catatonic so he could get me into the suitcase without resistance or noise, is true. I am more certain about the prior than the latter, but fairly certain at this point about both of them. However, I don't think his face actually looked the horrific way I described it in the fic. That's just the face I saw in the nightmares. I'm pretty sure it's not even actually possible for the face of a human being to look like that.

• I was never complicit in trying to drown someone, accidentally or otherwise. It happens in the fic because it's canon.

• Since I never found the suitcase, I don't know what would be in it if I did find it. Also, again, whichever abuser it was that wanted me to power-bottom for him, I have no reason to believe he was actually at all repentant. He certainly didn't snitch on himself and everyone else involved, at the very least.

• I don't know if the same thing ever happened to any of my half-siblings. It does in the fic just to tie in somehow into Charlene having so many siblings that have all left home never to be heard from again.

• I have not yet reached a stage of healing where I'm fully able to grieve and start a new life. The happy ending is pure wish fulfillment.

I apologize if any of these blind spots have ended up making the fic less believable. On a related note, if you've read this far, any feedback would be greatly appreciated. This is still only a first draft.

And, if you've read this far, thank you so much for reading. I know the subject matter is pretty heavy, and the fic is somewhat long, so I realize it wasn't easy. But this story is deeply personal to me, as you can probably tell, so it really means a lot.