"So," I ask, "this is basically like a video game. The A+ class demons appear on full moons, kill three of them, an S class appears, we grow stronger by killing demons, and the classes go, F to X. Right?"

Mr. Wensday nods, "and I have an enchantment over the dorms to keep demons out."

"Well I'm gonna go kill more demons then," I get up, "and-"

Now, finally, what I knew would happen does, and my body just gives out. My stomach suddenly growls and my legs give way, but Cathrine does manage to catch me with an arcane hand and lay me down on the couch.

My vision begins to give out as that creature grips my shoulder and whispers, digging claws into my shoulder, "you're gonna fail. Crush your enemy no matter the cost you weak and worthless child."

I try to sit up, and without any real effort, Shelby pushes me back down and places her hand on my forehead.

"Jesus what a fever!" She exclaims.

"Wait fever?" Cathrine asks, "Wilson are you OK?"

"Have..." my throat begins to close up, making it hard to speak, "have to... protect..."

Mr. Wensday walks over with a sigh and concerned look. "Three days?" He asks, "and you push yourself so hard you get sick?"

"I'll call the nurse," Mr. Wensday explains, "first thing in the morning."

"Have to..." I try once more to get up, "get... stronger..."

Shelby once more, just with a light tap, sends me back down.

"Rest child," Mr. Wensday offers a kind smile, "It's OK. Let us return the favor you've done for this school and-"

I snap to my feet, struggling to stand, insulted and enraged. I glare and yell, my voice horse, "return nothing! I don't need any help! I don't want any-"

My stomach churns, causing me to instinctively place my hand over my mouth.

"Wilson your whole helping thing is shut down for now right?" Shelby asks, "just take a Goddamn break for once! I mean what's your fucking problem? Why are you like this man?"

My legs give out, but I catch myself, leaving me on my knees. "No more guilt," I beg, "please I can't take any more."

"Guilt?" Cathrine asks.

I can't think, I can't... my mind is just...

"No more red," I plead, almost seeing the fireworks now, as everything grows hazy, like an old T.V. turning off,  "no more red. Why? Why? Why? Don't please. God please. Don't hurt her. Please God."

"Her?" Shelby asks.

I grip my locket, speaking whatever comes out, "parents. You call yourself parents? You took her away from me!"

My body collapses further, causing me to end up flat on my back.

Tears stream down my face as it all goes black, "I just can't lose you..."

The next thing I remember is a knock on my door. I hear the voice of a student, "Wilson, are you alive?"

"Not your problem!" I remind.

"OK he's alive and still being all Mr. Nothing!" She exclaims, indicating there is likely a fair number interested in helping me. What a pain in the ass.

"Go away," I sigh weakly, sitting up, exhausted and sore all over.

"But Wilson a lot of people are worried about you," the student with a familiar voice explains, "please talk to me, or, anyone."

"Cathrine?" I ask.

"That's me," she replies, "there's like, been, well almost everyone has stopped by at one point. They care about you Wilson. Over half the school signed a get well soon card."

"How does that help me protect?" I demand, "either give me something useful or leave."

"Well with rest you'll be better by Thursday," she explains, "also pretty sure there's like forty letters. Three are secret admirers, apparently helping people is charming to girls and... I think some guys too."

"Yeah don't swing that way," I shrug.

"Can I come in?" She asks.

"Sure," I shrug, "why not?"

I hear a bit of gossip.

"What are you his girlfriend?" I hear a young man ask, "man that's disappointing."

"I don't even think I'm friends with him," Cathrine explains.

"Yes we are!" I exclaim, "we're friends!"

OK that's two. One more.

"Anyways," I hear Cathrine explain, "start whatever rumors you want. I don't care."

With that she enters. She offers a refreshing smile as I sit up. Her smile is soothing to me. Something about it... dammit.

"Can I..." I sigh, "this isn't helping me but I need to tell someone this."

"It's OK," she smiles, "I'll listen."

"That redneck Hell I grew up in," I sigh, "it was the worst area in the United States of America for child abuse. Or, U.S.A., aka, United States of Abuse. I knew something was wrong since I was 10, my parents were like bullies. Fleeting moments of compassion, but usually berating and judging. My mother was a stoner, and she said I was wrong for saying she was wrong and calling the cops only for the cops to get a confession and do nothing. I wake up everything morning from the same dream."

"What dream?" Cathrine asks, now with worry on her face.

"It's the Fourth of July once more," I begin, "and I'm with the only man I hate more than my own father."

"Wait how can you hate someone more?" She asks.

"I refuse to answer," I retort, "anyways, he offers me a... certain red beverage, and I throw it in his face. The cops suddenly surround me and take me away, locking me in jail where everyone laughs at me, pointing and telling me I failed. I begin to cry before my mother shows up smoking a blunt and chuckles, telling me I should've just been evil to fit in. Every night I have this dream, and when I wake up, the first thing in my head is who's in danger? How do I keep them safe?"

Cathrine doesn't reply. She just stares at me blankly.

"That's my life," I shrug, "I have to protect or they'll hurt Shelby. They'll hurt Henry. They'll hurt Ms. Evergreen. They'll hurt Mr. Wensday. They'll hurt you and I-"

She silently, without a word, leans over and hugs me. This hug... why does it make me think of the future? Of wanting to be alive? I can almost see myself with her, Henry, and Shelby, sitting on a beach, with sodas as we discuss life and how amazing everything is. It's sometime in the future, and in this mental image, this hope, Cathrine and I are holding hands.

"Are you safe?" I ask.

Cathrine nods.

"Can we cuddle?" I ask.

Cathrine nods once more, in response to which I pull her in, her safe in my arms, I feel that maybe it's OK. Maybe the ones I care about are safe, as I close my eyes and go back to sleep...