When I awoke the next day, the bleeding had stopped, and my wounds had been patched up. Bandages and stitches covered my body. The pain had barely subsided, but I found psychological comfort in the strong scent of the sheets I lay in. Not far from my elbow was Andrews' dormant face. Head placed on his arms, he sat on his white carpet, top of his body on his bed as though he has fallen asleep watching me. He couldn't possibly be comfortable. Neck and back awkwardly bent, he'd be aching when he woke. I considered waking him or moving him onto the bed, but I still couldn't move. I was completely drained, not nearly enough energy and in too much pain to even lift my hand. Attempting to lift him was out of the question, and I feared if I woke him, I wouldn't be able to get him to go back to sleep. And by the looks of it he needed.

      He had made a quick and poor attempt to wash his hands. They looked much better but remained blood covered, as did the rest of his body and carpet. I prayed he had locked the door. The room looked like a murder scene, someone walking in before it was cleaned would be dreadful.

      "Strange to be in his presence and not hear his voice, isn't it?" Mimpi joked lightly.

     Turning towards her voice, I winced, painfully having moved my neck, chin rubbing along its scratchy, bandaged surface.

     "Don't look at me like that," I said, voice raspy.

     Pity. She was giving me the sad smile I so hated.

     "Sympathy a natural human emotion."

     "Well, it's making me feel like an even greater failure," I complained.

      "Not a failure," she stated firmly, continuing despite my grumbling. "I never expect so many attacks, if I did, I be afraid you fail... but you didn't. You prove me wrong. You much better warrior than you think, better than I thought you could ever be. Though you come close, you not die. No fatalities. You saved everyone and Kundanskie's people were taken care of... That far from failing to me."

     "Everyone made it out?" I asked. "Wayan and his friend had no problems?"

     Mimpi frowned. "Why would they?"

     "You haven't heard from them?" I panicked, darting my eyes to the locked window and then to the hopefully locked door, respirations and pulse immediately picking up.

     "Calm down," she requested calmly. "Xander talked to them this morning, they ok. They visit Sushila in infirmary... Why?"

      "Someone followed me last night, they said they'd take care of them— Who's Sushila and why is she in the infirmary?"

     "Someone follow Xander too, she help him fight."

     "Are the kids alright?" I demanded, wincing as I tried to sit up.

     "Yes. They saw nothing."

     "And Sushila?"

     "Badly injured but she going to be ok... Don't," she warned. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault Clara—"

     "Clara?" Andrews' sleepy voice asked.

     "Hmm," I hummed, enduring the pain of moving my hand, to brush a loose strand of hair from his forehead. I only had few more moments to enjoy a calm Andrews.

     "You're awake!" He jumped to his feet, groaning as he straightened his back and neck with a loud crack. "How are you feeling? Anything hurt more than it should? Can I get you anything?"

      "I'm alright," I interrupted. "Just please slow down."

      "Right. Sorry."

      Taking a moment to study me, eyes roaming every inch of my body he finally nodded, as if satisfied with what he saw and bolted. He ran across the room, hastily filling his arms with the textbooks from his desk and medical kit from his nightstand drawer.

      Books opened and splattered on the floor surrounding the bed, he took my vitals and checked my wounds, continuously running to the books for reference and jotting down notes in his notebook. Muttering words I didn't understand, I could barely keep up with his chaotic movement. As I watched his frenzy with bewilderment and worry, Mimpi watched him with a smile, silencing the laughter that threatened to escape her thin lips.

      I bit back a groan. He'd fret over my well-being for weeks. He wouldn't leave my side until my wounds had become mere scratches and bruises. I sent Mimpi a silent cry for help, but she only continued to silently laugh, shoulders shaking as she raised both her arms in an amused shrug.

     "I don't want to hurt anyone," I started hesitantly. "But are the two houses still being watched? Cause I doubt I'll be able to fight anytime soon, and I want to make sure the Andrews and my siblings are properly protected. I just—"

     "Don't worry about it," she stopped me. "I think this was last attack before final battle, but we reinforce protection just in case. All my troops should be here within next week."

      "They're all coming?"

      "Yes."

     "Is it that soon?" I asked voice tight, stress level steadily increasing. "Is Kundanskie really rising so soon that your people need to come now?"

      "Not as soon as you think," she reassured. "They coming to prepare. Need to get used to environment... You have time heal before she rises."

      Fantastic. I'd recover from my near-death experience just in time to be murdered by Eudora's psychotic sister.

     After ridding myself of the morbid thoughts of my death, I was quite amused with the idea of Mimpi's people traveling.

     "Are they taking a plane?" I asked, unable to refrain from smiling.

     "Yes," Mimpi said, truly seeming to believe I was crazy. "How else we get here?"

      Whether it was the exhaustion or my strange sense of humour, the idea of Mimpi and her people wearing purple cloaks and holding weapons, sat together in a crammed airplane, amused me to the point of laughter. The thought of them participating in such normal human activity was so completely ridiculous that I couldn't help but giggle.

      Andrews finally paused his frantic medical care. Watching me, he released the tension from his shoulders and a smile slowly etched itself onto his face. Laughing along with me, he finally relaxed, put away his tools and allowed himself to sit next to me, Mimpi thinking our remarks on her travel methods, ridiculous.

      For once in my life, I wished it wasn't the weekend. Had it been a weekday, it wouldn't have been so difficult to keep Anna and Jim away from myself and Andrews' room. Though I hadn't yet seen her up close, from the few words I heard her speak from afar, I knew Anna was growing more suspicious. The fight was all over the News, though Andrews said the clips revealed only my blurry face, my blond hair and build were obvious and there had been many witnesses to formulate a detailed description of my appearance. I doubt Anna thought the blonde on the News being beaten to a pulp the same night I became too sick to leave Andrews' room, was a coincidence. I'm sure it only further troubled her peace of mind when she caught her son with a bucket of bleach. I felt bad that I couldn't clean up my own mess, but Andrews seemed content to have something to do, to have another distraction. He'd been acting strange. Something was on his mind, but he was keeping it to himself. I knew he was probably biting his tongue for my sake, but after few nights had passed, I couldn't help but asked. "What's wrong?"

     He had just returned from putting away the cleaning supplies, and somehow seemed more troubled than the previous nights. He looked defeated, traumatized even, as though he had witnessed something, he really wished he hadn't.

      "Nothing," he lied. He didn't meet my eyes as he grabbed his notebook and thermometer.

     "Andrews," I insisted, tone soft and patient.

     He sighed, shoulders slumping. "You're still all over the News."

     "Did they find out it was me? Is that why—"

     "No, they don't know... But you've been cleared from being known as a villain," he teased, trying to keep the conversation light, despite it being clear that he was not even the slightest bit amused. "The whole town thinks you're a hero. They're worried about you."

     "Worried?"

     "They released more clips," he said, staring blankly at the wall above my head, face darkening. "It wasn't pretty."

     I had really hoped he wouldn't see any of the fight. The way in which he stared at the wall made it obvious that he was replaying the clips in his mind.

     "Andrews—"

      "It was horrible," he interrupted, finally meeting my eyes, his own broken and glassy. "You shouldn't need to do this alone. Someone should have been there for you. I should have been there. I shouldn't have left—"

     "No." I interrupted, swallowing a moan as I forced myself into a sitting position. "Don't say that. You know you can't help that way."

     "You don't understand how hard that is to do."

      "It doesn't matter if it's hard. It's what needs to be done... we came to an agreement," I reminded him.

    "How do you expect me to be ok with this?" he demanded, aggressively pulling his hair, resting his hands on the back of his head in frustration.

     "You don't have to be ok with it, you just have to do it!" I started, equally frustrated. "If you interfere in any way, you are going to get hurt or die. And I won't let that happen."

     "That should be my decision to make!" he cried. "Why is it not alright to risk my life, but it is okay to risk yours over and over again?"

     "For some reason I, alone, was chosen to do this. This is my responsibility!"

     "But it shouldn't just be yours!"

     "I'll have help," I argued. "Mimpi has many people on her side, I won't be fighting alone."

     "If they can fight by your side, why can't I?"

     "They have trained and dedicated their whole lives for this... And I don't know them like I do you. I don't care for them as I care for you."

      "That doesn't matter."

      "It does matter. It matters so much," I argued. "Eudora died because she fought next to someone she cared about. I will not do the same."

      "I know about Eudora and Easton... We aren't like them, Clara. You know better."

      "I'm not so sure I do."

      "Bullshit," he said, tone slightly aggressive. "I know, you know better. You even told Mimpi that you knew better than to choose one person's life over the entire world's."

       "You're right," I admitted. "If I was given the choice right now, between your life and that of billions of people, it would kill me, but I wouldn't be selfish enough to choose your life over theirs. Given time to think I would make the right decision... But in the midst of a battle, I'm not sure I would. That night at the mall, I jumped in to save a woman and her child without thinking about its repercussions. I panicked and went in without any strategies. If they weren't there the fight probably would have ended differently. I sabotaged my own safety for strangers... Though I don't understand it, Mimpi believes I am the only one who can kill Kundanskie, and if I die before killing her, she will go on to kill millions. If you are fighting by my side, I will get caught up in the moment. And if a spear is thrown your way, I will not hesitate to jump in front of it... I would sacrifice myself for you without a second thought."

      Andrews paused, considering my words before speaking softly, aggressive tone evaporated.

     "But what if I jump in front of the spear? What if I save your life, and you live to save the world?"

      "But that's the thing with what ifs, it means nothing is certain... this isn't a chance we can afford. What if I watch you die, and it destroys me? What if you come and we both die? What happens if no one is there to kill Kundanskie? What will have been the point?"

      "I just want to help," he said defeatedly.

     "Then stay out of it."

      Shaking his head exasperatedly, he dragged his hands across his face, meeting my eyes with such a vulnerable look that my breath caught in the back of my throat. I had never seen him so upset, so heartbroken. It broke me to see him this way. Even worst to know that it was my fault.

      "Promise me everything will go well. Promise you'll be alright, and I'll stay out of it."

      "You know I can't do that," I whispered, voice shaky and threatening to break under his devastating gaze. "I can't sit here and lie to you when only two days ago you watched me nearly die. I know you know this is dangerous, I won't pretend otherwise. My death is a possibility... If I'm being honest, I'm thinking it's more a probability than a possibility. I never expected to survive this. I still don't... I don't want to die, Andrews. I will do everything I can to save myself, but I have come to terms with my possible faith... I am okay with dying if it means I can make things right for Eudora and stop Kundanskie from hurting anyone else... I don't expect you to feel the same way, but please don't make this harder than it has to be."

     He still shook his head, understanding my point of view and the rightness of my words, but every fibre in his bones simultaneously wanting nothing to do with the execution of my wishes.

      "What if the roles were reversed?" he tried, voice husky and eyes watering.

      Admitting that I didn't believe I'd survive Kundanskie's attack, did nothing to make him feel better. What was I thinking? Maybe honesty wasn't always the best policy.

     "That doesn't—"

     "What would you do if the roles were reversed?" he repeated, more sternly.

     "It's pointless to think of something I might or might not do in a situation that would never happen. The roles aren't reversed. Your argument is invalid."

     "Would you be able to do what you ask of me?"

     "Yes!" I lied.

     "You can't lie to me. I see through you just as you see through me," he started. "We have spent the majority of our lives doing everything side by side. I have always been there for you—When your father left, I made sure you knew I would never leave you. When you felt overwhelmed with responsibility, I rid you of some. I have proved your worth in times that you've felt worthless. I gave you my home when you lost yours, and you have done just as much for me... I am the one person who has stuck by you through everything. I have spent my whole life caring for you. How do you expect me to just suddenly stop? To step aside when you face your biggest challenge?"

      The question was rhetorical, but even had I wanted to, I wouldn't have been capable of answering. Lump in my throat and lips quivering as I watched him break before my eyes.

      "I have become so attached to you that I feel your pain. When you're upset, angry or sad, I feel it too... You don't understand what this is doing to me. I can't breathe, Clara. I feel like my insides are being ripped apart, like I'm living in a nightmare; visions of you dying or in pain constantly on my mind. Your death will kill me. You have very much become a part of me. I can't lose you without losing myself... Me." He paused, taking a deep breath as he gestured towards himself. "The Easton Andrews you know does not exist without Clara Molino."

      I specifically remember requesting that he not make this harder, he was very poorly following through with my request. Again, I tried to speak, but I stopped when I realized I couldn't do so without crying. I was not a fan of tears, and I certainly didn't wish to make things worse for Andrews.

      "Clara... I can't," he choked.

      "You have to," I tried my voice. "If you can do one last thing for me, this is what I want... Please."

     Shutting his eyes, he leaned against the door, completely silent. I was silent too, giving him time to come to his senses. I knew he'd eventually make the right decision.

     After a long silence, he shook his head one last time with eyes clamped shut but eventually forced himself to nod. Taking a deep breath, he stepped away from the door and tried to control his voice. "Are you hungry?"

      I shook my head.

     "Alright," he said quietly, once again not meeting my eyes. "I'll bring you another shake."

     "Thanks," I said, as he already opened the door.

      "I'll go see the kids too. If they've seen the News, I'm sure they're freaking out."

      "Thank you," I said again, voice small.

      He shot me one last forced smile and walked out. For a while I thought I could hear his breathing, as though he was paused outside the door. Sometimes I really hated having heightened hearing.

      Eventually I heard the staircase creak beneath his weight, Andrews soon standing in the kitchen with his parents. I didn't quite hear what Andrews said, his gruff voice too low to be comprehensible.

      "Again?" Anna asked, clearly irked. "Why is she avoiding us?"

      "She's not," Andrews spoke louder, voice still mangled. "I told you, she's not feeling well. You know Clara, she hates any form of pity."

      Silence filled the home, I could picture Anna intensively watching her son, Jim sat at the kitchen table, silently watching the two.

     "What's wrong?" she finally asked, voice soft. Anger dissipated after hearing his broken voice.

     "I just told—"

     "No, Easton" she said. "I meant you. You look so—"

      "I'm fine," he interrupted. "Just tired."

     "I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner," Anna said, words resonating across the quiet home. Damn. "I was rather annoyed that it took the News footage for realization to kick in."

     Andrews spluttered incoherently, and I winced in anticipation. Was there a way to turn off superhuman hearing?

     "Don't waste your breath," she laughed half-heartedly. "It's really obvious isn't?"

      Andrews snorted. "Still took me much longer than it should have though," he said, voice laced with disappointment. "I'm supposed to know everything about her..."

     There was another brief pause, I pictured Anna holding Andrews' face, breaking as I had as she watched his distressed state.

      "Is she really alright?"

     "In a sense yes," he said, voice ragged. "She's in a lot of pain... she tries not to show it, but I know. She looks awful, but she'll heal. She's healthy... for now."

      "What do you mean for now?"

      "I can't..." he croaked, failing to finish his sentence.

      "Easton—"

      "I don't know what to do," he managed. It was clear by his muddled tone and his uneven breaths that he was crying. My own eyes watered. "I can't lose her—"

      Hearing his mangled sob, I curled my pillow around my head, blocking out all sounds. I didn't wish to or could bare to hear anything more. Tears falling on my own cheeks, I shut my eyes, desperately trying not to think of my best friend on the floor beneath me.

      When I finally reopened my eyes, I discovered Mimpi looking at me, unmistakable expression of pity.

      "How long have you been here?" I uttered throatily.

      "Not long."

      "Did you hear any of our conversation?"

      "Just the end," she admitted.

      "Did you stick around just to gloat?"

     "Of course, not," she said. "I don't want things to be difficult for you."

      "I can handle it... I just don't want things to be difficult for the people I love."

     Mimpi smiled sadly. "He's a good boy," she spoke after a long pause.

      I nodded, doing my best to focus on Mimpi only. I didn't want to hear anything that occurred outside of Andrews' room.

     "I was wrong," she said. "I know you will do the right thing... I was wrong to think he was bad for you. Don't push him away. You need him. Not in the fight, but still in your life... He gives you something to fight for."

     "I don't know what to do."

     "You will," she reassured. "Do not stress about it yet. Focus on healing."

      "Why are you suddenly so sure everything will end well."

      "I just am," she said. "Your fight in the mall was quote impressive.

      I shook my head.

     "Don't," she said. "You did very well... Don't let Kundanskie get into your head."

      "Can she do that? I mean purposely?"

      She frowned. "Is she already?"

      "I don't know. I think so. I keep doubting myself and I've been dreaming about the battle... she always wins. Mocks me and the people I love."

      "You must ignore her," she urged. "No listen to her. Spend more time with Easton."

      "Spend more time with Easton?" I asked slowly. Blinking in confusion.

     "Yes. Good distraction. You spend too much time in your head when he not with you. Give you confidence."

      This was certainly a development. Shocked by her words, it took me a while to answer, staring at her in bewilderment. Just few weeks ago she had demanded I leave the Andrews' home, never to speak to my best friend again. And now she was ordering that I spend more time with him, even though we already spend most of our time in each other's presences.

      "Are you and Andrews friends now?" I asked, very much weirded out by the idea.

     "I misjudge him."

     "Not that I want you to be angry with him... But you literally just overheard a conversation in which he proved to be exactly who you initially judged him to be."

      She sighed. "It's complicated."

     "You don't like him, do you?"

      "I old enough to be his great, great, great, great grandmother!" She protested indignantly.

      "You didn't deny it... he is rather good looking, isn't he?"

      "I do prefer brunettes."

      I stared at her blankly, not believing I had heard her correctly. I had expected some form of irritation by the comment, but instead I got amusement. Getting over the initial shock I burst into laughter.

      "Did you just make a joke?"

      "I lighten mood as you say it." She smirked. "But really, the boy not my type."

      "Is it the age? Or is he too clumsy? Too nerdy?"

      "Too unsure," she said, after pretending to consider her words. "I like confidence."

       "Oh!" I laughed. "So, if I inflate Andrews' head a little, he has a shot?"

       "Absolutely not," she said. "He all yours... Actually, tell him he got shot with me, just to see his reaction. It make you feel better."

      "And I suppose when I do so you'll play dumb and send him your signature glare?"

      She answered my question with a smirk.

      "Xander fits your criteria," I said after a short pause, still laughing softly at this new side of her.

     "You think I cougar?" she asked. "I had brief relationship with his great, great grandfather."

      "I'd love to her more about it," I said. "I'm going crazy just sitting here. Please entertain me."

"About my one week with Nanako?" she frowned.

     "Yes," I laughed at her expression. "I want to hear it all."

      "Not much to tell," she warned. "I only ever want one person."

      "Does their name start with an E?" 

      She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You and I have that in common."

      "Not this again," I sighed. "I don't want to think about that. It's your turn to spill the tea."

      "Spill the tea?"

      "It's an expression. Just tell me about it," I laughed.

      "This really make you feel better?"

      "Yes," I said with certainty. "Kundanskie's working hard up here, your stories will distract me," I added, holding my head as I pretended to wince.

       "Clever girl," she shook her head again but was still clearly amused. "From the beginning?"

      "From the beginning."

      Mimpi was halfway through telling me about the one time she got married, when the doorknob rattled. Assuming it was Andrews coming back with my promised shake, I made no move to cover my half naked and bandaged body. Seeing as I didn't make a big deal out of it, neither did Mimpi, continuing her story as she too assumed it was Andrews.

      It was not Andrews. Green shake in hand, Anna stood in the doorway.

      "Be back later," Mimpi whispered, vanishing.

       Anna stared blankly at the empty space above the Sphere, puzzled expression reminding me very much of her son, until she turned my way, expression quickly falling.

      "Oh, Clara," she started, kneeling next to the bed, eyes roving my body with unmistakable pity.

      "I'm alright. Please don't cry," I pleaded instantly.

      Mimpi had just managed to change my mood, I didn't want to fall down the misery rabbit hole again. Anna forced a smile. The action was so similar to Andrews, same lips turned upwards on the right side and same small eyes, that my mood immediately dampened. Just thinking about him made my heart ache.

      "Andrews already made me cry, I've surpassed my allowed daily number of tears," I warned.

      "I'm just here to bring you this," she promised with a small laugh, handing me the shake Andrews had promised.

     "Is Andrews ok?" I asked, after a short pause, staring at the cup in my hands.

     "He will be," she said. "He's gone to see your siblings. I think he just needed to get out for a bit."

      It was my turn to force a smile. "I'm sorry," I said after another pause.

     I hated that I was the one doing this to him. I was supposed to make him feel better. I wasn't supposed to be the cause of his greatest pain.

      "Clara." She spoke my name so firmly that I finally met her eyes.

      I scooted over on the bed, making room for her to sit as it seemed she had a lot to say and wasn't leaving any time soon.

      "You have nothing to apologize for," she said.

      "I'm hurting your son."

      "But it is neither a bad kind of pain nor your fault," she said. "A mother never wants to see their child hurting, but sometimes to be our happiest or to experience great love we must endure pain. When something or someone becomes dear to us it is inevitable that we become fearful or pained by the thought of losing them. But is it not better to live with the fear of losing what you value most than to have nothing at all?"

       I nodded weakly. "But what happens if you're unlucky enough to lose it all? Then, you've suffered all that pain and fear, only to end up with nothing at all."

      "Once you possess something you can never fully lose it," she shook her head. "You are left with memories."

      "But memories are a painful reminder of what you've lost."

      Anna fell silent. Biting her lip and slowly swallowing, I could tell she was trying to compose herself, attempting to fulfill my no tears wish. I suppose she and Andrews hadn't talked of my likely death and I had just blandly made it obvious.

      "Honey—" she started, voice weak.

      "No", I interrupted gently. "We don't know what's going to happen. Please no sad goodbyes."

      She nodded, smiling sadly before answering my last remark. "In times of grief we do tend to deem memories painful, but there comes a time when you come to appreciate them; when you stop remembering what you lost and start remembering what you had. You can't ignore your past, it's what shapes your future... My first marriage didn't end well and at first, I wanted nothing more than to forget our time together. But now I can look back at our happy memories and smile. I may have lost what had been a great relationship, but I had many happy years before the few bad months. It's brought me many great adventures, given me two son's and everything I experienced has led to who I am today. I don't regret a second of it... I know the lost you speak of isn't the same but remembering is as important. Your type of loss doesn't usually change one's life for the better, but it doesn't destroy one's chances of ever being happy again, though it may feel like it... It is a pain that doesn't go away, but that you can learn to live with it."

      "Especially if you have the right people by your side," I added. "You'll be there... You'll help him."

      "I will be there," she agreed, voice growing quieter. "But some things just can't be healed."

      I took a deep breath, replaying her words as I stared at the picture of, ten years old, Andrews and I, sat on his black drawer.

      "I don't want to put you in a position where he becomes angry with you, but can you force him to go back to school. He stubbornly told me that he isn't going back until I do, but I think it would be good for him. I..."

      "I get it," she said. "Of course, I can do that. I'd have probably done it even without your request."

      "Thank you," I smiled softly. "And not just for that, for everything. You've really—"

     "I thought we agreed to no sad goodbyes," Anna interrupted.

     "I just want to make sure you know—"

     "I know," she interrupted again. "Believe me, I know how much you appreciate what we've done for you, but we really needn't be thanked. Clara, you will never understand your own impact on my family."

     I laughed half-heartedly; chest heavy.

      "If we are finished with what you would call the sappy stuff, I've got a few questions," Anna added, following a short silence.

      "Go ahead," I laughed.

      "What in God's name happened to Easton's room?"

     Looking at the clutter of opened books and random medical supplies on the floor, I cringed.

     "Ah," I started. "Well, your son is both a slob and, on his way, to becoming a self-taught doctor."

      Anna frowned, flipping through Andrews' hand drawn charts, until her eyes fell back on my body, jaw dropping open.

     "No. He didn't," she started, continuing with exasperation when the small smile I shot her, confirmed her suspicions. "Clara! You should have told me. You should have made me do it!"

      She was right. Anna was a nurse, she'd have been so much better suited to help me. "I know, I was stupid... But in my defence, Andrews did a pretty dang, good job."

     Groaning, she shook her head, standing to steal a pen from Andrews' desk. Taking hold of his beloved notebook, I was once again reminded of their biological bond, as she carefully inspected every inch of my body, fretting over every little bruise.

      I fell asleep not long after Anna left, not waking until Andrews returned. I awoke to his hand inches away from my face, thermometer pressed to my forehead.

      "You're back," I remarked, voice raspy from sleep, inching away from the small tool.

     "You smell like grandma Binsfield's soup... Why do you smell like grandma Binsfield's soup?"

     "I had dinner with your mother."

     "What?" I said groggily.

     "Careful," he laughed as he helped me into a sitting position.

     "Oh," I said, fully opening my eyes. I took in his wild hair and flushed cheeks. "It didn't go well."

      "It wasn't that bad. She left me alone with the other four most of the night," he said, nonchalantly. "We didn't speak very long, but I got what I wanted said."

      "And you're doing well," I said surprised. "No trauma. No broom chasing."

      He cracked a smile. A small one, but a smile, nonetheless. "Under different circumstances she probably would have... She's not in a great state of mind."

     "She knows?"

      He nodded. "She didn't admit to knowing, but she definitely does. Seems to me she's struggling to accept the fact that she was wrong."

      I felt slightly better that my mother no longer believed I was a psychotic demon worshipper but couldn't help but worry about her mental state. Andrews had his parents. Who would take care of the kids if something were to happen to me? And who would take care of my mother?

      "No mother like daughter comment?" I forced myself to crack a joke.

      "I know better than to waste my breath," he said. "You'd have just said something about never being wrong."

      "Very true," I said. "I've got great news for you."

      "Ashley Tisdale accepted my promposal?"

      "Um, no... But I know someone that might."

     "Who?"

      "Do you think you can work on your confidence? Act like you think you're top shit?"

      "Huh?"

      "If you can, Mimpi is definitely interested."

      "What?" he demanded, voice cracking as it reached a much higher pitch than usual.

      Mimpi briefly appeared. Wiggling her thin brows suggestively, behind Andrews, she disappeared before he could turn around. I was still wiping tears from my eyes, stomach aching from laughter, when Andrews gently shoved me over, making room for himself on the bed, cheeks flushed as he muttered under his breath. Stealing a stack of cards from his night table, he shuffled the deck, with a pout.

      "I'm sorry," I laughed. "You're just too easy, and quite frankly very entertaining. You don't understand how bored I've been... I'm going crazy being trapped to your bed."

      Eyes lighting up, he began to smirk.

      "Very funny." I rolled my eyes before he could deliver his joke.

      "I was only gone four hours," he said. "Next time you're bored, save me the embarrassment and just ask for my company."

      Sniggering, I stole my pile of cards and made the first move, setting an ace of clubs atop the blue bed sheets.

      Andrews was on his tenth win, when our uneventful card night was interrupted. Distracted by the thought of finally beating Andrews, I was too late to stop him.

      "Come in," Andrews said, before I could warn him, that like himself his mother didn't understand the purpose of knocking. Whoever Andrews had let in, wasn't Anna.

      Cards flying as I pulled the blanket, I covered my bandaged body. Andrews watched the mess I made with puzzled curiosity, until his eyes fell on the figure in the doorway. Twelve pack beer case in hand, in his usual polo shirt and jeans, Toby Ackerman watched the both of us. He noticed Andrews first, looking at him with undistinguishable pity, eyes finally falling on me with shock.

      "You're alive," he spluttered.

      "So are you," I noted.

      "I— how?" he stammered. "You really looked dead. Mom was so sure... I mean there was so much blood."

      "Dead?" Andrews asked in an incredibly suspicious tone. He was both a horrible liar and actor. "Where would you get such an idea? She's only got the flue."

      The flue. Great explanation for my bruised face and slit throat. I resisted to urge to slam my palm against my face.

      "It's ok, Andrews," I whispered defeatedly.

      "Are you sure?"

      "I don't think we have much of a choice." It was very clear that Toby knew the truth, it'd be foolish to act or try to convince otherwise.

      "I mean I could play dumb if you really wanted," Toby said. "The flue story is totally believable."

      I snorted and shook my head amusedly in Andrews' direction. "The flue... You really are an idiot!"

      "Excuse me?" Andrews defended himself. "I was trying to help. The flue could have been realistic... you could have just coincidently have fallen down the stairs."

      "Why didn't you just say I fell down the stairs and injured myself, then?"

       "I panicked!"

       This time Toby laughed along with me, and Andrews looked quite affronted. Brown eyes narrowed at the dark-skinned boy stood in the doorway.

      "Did Clara invite you here just to mock me?"

      "No," he chuckled lightly, suddenly scratching his head awkwardly. "I thought Clara died... I figured you wouldn't be doing well and could use some company."

      "Oh," was all Andrews' replied, evidently surprised.

      I smiled, reassured by Toby's gesture. Toby and Andrews had once been close friends; it was nice to know he'd have his back. Andrews wouldn't be alone. I was incredibly grateful for Toby's gesture.

      "You both still look like you could use a drink," he gestured towards the case of beer.

      "You've got that right" Andrews said as we both moved over, making room for him on the bed.

      "You in for a game of cards? Andrews could really use a challenge."

     Smiling, Toby took a seat, handing each of us a can.

      "Thank you by the way," Toby told me, as Andrews collected the dispersed cards. My rushed attempt at hiding had splattered the cards around the room.

     "For what?"

     "That day at the mall—"

     "No," I interrupted. "Please don't. I really didn't do anything special."

     "I don't understand your... situation, but you risked your life for my mother and brother. I think that is more than special. Thank you."

      That's why they had looked so familiar. Unsure how to answer, I smiled awkwardly, and the game began. He asked few questions about my situation as he had put it, but otherwise asked little of the Terpilih sentencing. It was refreshing to have him treat me as he usually did, to have both Andrews and I's minds distracted. We even managed to convince Andrews to return to school. It was a very small win, but it filled me with immense hope and relief. Despite his beliefs, Andrews would be quite alright.