This is it, guys: the last chapter :(

Listen to the song on the side! It has nothing to do with the story, but I just got John Mayer's new album and I feel like the tune of the song fits this chapter :).

Chapter Fifty-Three

Delaney

"Are you ready, Miss Escott?"

Sioban stood in the doorway of my room, smiling timidly. She wore a heather gray pantsuit, and a clipboard was clutched in her hands.

I smiled back at her. "Just a sec."

Taking a deep breath, I gave the mirror a final glance. I inspected my freshly curled hair and lightly made-up face—complete with new contacts—my eyes roving down my reflection with careful scrutiny. With a final glance, I smoothed down the front of my simple blue dress before sliding my feet into a pair of black ballet flats.

"I'm ready," I said, though my stomach was doing backflips.

I followed Sioban out of the small white room, passing a few doctors and nurses as we made our way down the wide hallway. Sioban's heels clicked on the linoleum.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks since we'd watched the Capitol fall. Since that day, Fairleigh had personally escorted us back to Seattle, where he'd deposited us in one of the best hospitals in the city. They'd been reluctant to admit us, but Fairleigh was adamant. He'd stressed, especially, the importance of my condition, and had somehow managed to get all the top doctors on my case.

As it turned out, Leary had been wrong. Despite all the stress I put on my body during those last minutes in the Capitol, I had not dropped dead at the end of the hour. Though I doubt it was his intention, his serum was nonlethal. The doctors couldn't find a trace of anything deadly in my body. And maybe it was my imagination, but now that the fever was gone and I was back to normal functioning, I felt better, health-wise, than I ever had in my life.

"Here we are," Sioban chirped as we got off the elevator and entered an underground parking lot. I felt giddy with excitement; this was my first time leaving the hospital since we'd arrived. Though I'd been in perfect health for the past two weeks, Fairleigh had insisted that Trai, Caleb, and I stayed put until we had completely recovered from "the shock" of our ordeal. He'd ordered the doctors to keep us there until he gave word, and by then, they'd recognized him well enough to obey without question.

In those first few days in the hospital, Jeremy Fairleigh's cordiality had done nothing but make me angry. Why are you being nice? I wanted to demand of him. If I had died, you wouldn't have given it a second thought. I'd said about as much on one occasion, about a week after the fall, when Fairleigh had paid me a surprise visit.

"I have made mistakes," he responded. "I never should have abandoned you like that, not after all you did for our organization. You are a true soldier, Delaney, and you have all of my respect. I only hope that you can forgive me."

That Fairleigh had been a stark contrast to the furious, volatile man who had blown up the Capitol all those days before. But that episode, I quickly learned, had been one of a kind. On a normal basis, Jeremy Fairleigh was calm, collected, and effortlessly charismatic. He carried himself like a Popular, as if he owned every square inch of land he set his foot on. It was empowering to be around him; I felt as if I was feeding off of his positive energy.

But I hadn't forgiven him.

No amount of charisma could change what he was, and that was a liar, a deserter, and a killer. I'd called him out on all three charges, to which he simply said, "I'm better than Leary," and I'd had no response.

"They said the car was parked around here," Sioban was blustering, her brown hair beginning to slip from its bun. I smiled fondly as she dashed around on her heels, looking for our ride.

During the time that I'd been sitting, mindlessly bored, at the hospital, Sioban had been one of my only companions. She was nineteen, only four years older than me, so Fairleigh had assigned her to be my personal attendant. The two of us were alike in a lot of ways: like me, she'd been a shy, awkward outcast throughout her high school career. It was nice to have her through all those hours, especially since Trai and Caleb were on separate floors, and there was no Abby for comic relief. Even if for the most part, she'd only blushed and nodded and acted generally flustered, and insisted on calling me "Miss Escott" as if I were actually someone to be intimidated of.

The only time I'd really gotten to see Caleb and Trai was on the first day of our third week in the hospital, when Fairleigh had made a random appearance and gathered us together for a meeting. He told us he had been giving speeches in big cities across the country, addressing the people and shedding light on all the mysteries surrounding both the Pro-Inferiors and the Superiors. I'd watched a few of the broadcasts on television: he'd done an amazing job of making the Pro-Inferiors seem like gods in comparison to the "filthy, corrupted Superiors."

"Trai, Caleb," he said when we met that day, "Delaney. The three of you know better than anyone the horrors that the Superiors inflicted. I want people to know your story, to know what you've been through." He leaned forward, rested his chin on his hands. "I want the three of you to be spokespersons for the Pro-Inferiors. When I come to speak in Seattle next week, I want you to tell the public what you endured during your time in the Capitol. I can botch the Superiors' name all I want, but I'll just sound like a bitter, jaded man. If they hear a real-life account, told by teenagers, no less, it will clear any doubts they might have."

I was the first to agree, but on one condition. "I want to tell them everything," I told him. "And that includes how you left us there. I don't want to leave anything out, and I won't do this otherwise."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Fairleigh's face then, followed by a tense silence, but eventually he nodded. "All right," he conceded. "I wouldn't want to appear as flawless as the Superiors, after all."

And that's why I was standing here in the parking lot, with nice hair and contacts and a pretty new dress, waiting as Sioban tried to find the car. I remembered my reflection: I didn't look like myself. I didn't feel like myself, either. I felt better, stronger, more assured of the choices I was making. I hadn't prepared a speech, but somehow, I knew I didn't need one. After everything that had happened to me, saying a few words would be a breeze. And once it was over, I could go home. I could see my parents—who I had belatedly realized I missed immensely—go back to school, and everything would return to normal. Or, if not normal, at least as uneventful as it had been before.

"Oh, I found it! I'm so sorry, I'm really just hopeless sometimes, I can never seem to do anything..." Sioban chattered absently as she unlocked a sleek gray sedan. I climbed into the passenger seat, breathing in the fresh scent of new car. As Sioban keyed in the address of the building where the speech would be held, she said, "There's a TV on the dash, if you want to watch."

I smiled inwardly: so, she had noticed. Over the past few weeks, I'd been watching the news almost religiously, following every story, speech, rally, and talk show that reported on the Pro-Inferiors. I watched as people went from shocked to skeptical to accepting, their eyes opening as they realized what had been kept from them all those years.

Silently, I tapped the darkened screen built into the dashboard, typing in the local news channel. It fizzled into existence as the car began its automatic departure. Sioban fished a tablet from her purse, pulled up a book, and began to read. I smirked at her before turning my attention to the television, where a polished blonde woman was addressing the camera.

"Change," she said. "This has been the word of interest these past weeks, the word that has become the mantra of millions. All across the country, the activists known as the Pro-Inferiors have been rallying the public, preaching the message of change. The reign of the Superiors has ended, leaving in its place a country in transition. Many uncertainties lie on the horizon, and matters will not fall into place right away. But the people are ready for change." With a practiced look of solemnity, the woman turned to her partner. "Bill, what are your thoughts?"

The segment carried on much like every other that I'd seen in the past few days. Bill gave his input, which happened to be a very positive view of the Pro-Inferiors, and the two of them discussed what the changes would mean for the country from a financial standpoint, and whether or not relations with other countries would proceed as usual.

Boring grown-up stuff, I thought.

Eventually, their discussion came to an end, and the woman turned her attention back to the viewers. "In local news," she droned, "the people of Seattle are flocking to the Times Square Building, where Pro-Inferior leader Jeremy Fairleigh is scheduled to address the public at one o'clock this afternoon."

The dashboard clock read 12:33.

"Rumor has it, he'll be having special guest speakers," Bill took over, "a first in his cross-country speech tour. Their identities have not yet been revealed."

"Well, we'll find out at one," his partner said cheerily, and they both laughed mindlessly. "For now, though, let's go live with Sheryl, who is currently outside the Times Square Building, where—"

Her voice cut off as I paused the television, freezing the image with her mouth comically open. I didn't need to know what was going on at the landmark; after all, I'd be there soon enough.

○●○●○●○

"Miss Escott," said a familiar voice. "It's very nice to see you again."

Jeremy Fairleigh was waiting in the parking lot as I stepped out of the car, a disarming smile on his face.

"Hello," I said simply.

"How are you doing?" he inquired.

I shrugged. "Fine."

"Have the hospital staff been agreeable?"

"Yeah."

"And the accommodations have been to your liking?"

"Sure."

Undeterred by my monosyllabic answers, Fairleigh beckoned me to follow him, ignoring a harried Sioban, who had to dash after us in her precarious little shoes.

"It's wonderful," he said as we walked, "how enthusiastic this country has proven itself to be. Your generation especially. Young people are so open to change."

He looks so genuine, I thought as we stepped into an elevator. As if he really cares.

"They're also very impressionable," I replied in a monotone, keeping my gaze fixed on the doors in front of me.

"That is true as well," the man conceded. "I just hope that we can give them a good impression."

I said nothing. I didn't like the way he said we.

"Your waiting room is this way," Fairleigh continued, leading us out of the elevator and down a short hallway. He stopped in front of a plain white door, which he opened for me. "Go on inside; I'll fetch you when it's time. No, Sioban, not you. I need you to run across the street and get me a coffee."

Sioban's response was lost to me as Fairleigh shut the door with a gentle click. I stepped carefully into the room and glanced around. It was an airy space, with white walls and beige couches and too-cold air conditioning that raised goosebumps on my exposed arms. I crossed the room, my shoes leaving imprints in the soft cream carpet, and approached the far wall, which was covered entirely with a thick yellow curtain.

I pushed aside the bright fabric and found that it was actually hiding a full wall of giant, floor-to-ceiling windows. And out of those windows, I had a view of the makeshift stage that had been built in anticipation of the speeches, and at all the people who were gathered on the lawn, waiting.

There must have been thousands.

There were men in suits, teens with skateboards, mothers with children balanced on their hips: people of all ages had come for this, to meet their new leader and validate their new-found faith in the Pro-Inferiors.

"Wow," I murmured breathlessly.

"Yeah." The low voice came from behind me, and I whirled around, startled. Trai was standing in front of the room's almost-invisible second door, smiling imperceptibly. "Bathroom," he explained.

I nodded wordlessly.

"You look great," he went on, gesturing to my dress as he moved to sit down on one of the couches.

"Thanks, Sioban picked it out," I replied. I dropped down beside him, a safe distance away. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He glanced emptily down at his dark slacks, tie, and gray cardigan, and shrugged. "Not too comfortable, though."

I shifted in my starchy-stiff high necked dress and attempted a laugh. "This isn't either."

There was nothing to say after that, so we sat in silence. Trai gazed languidly at the table in front of us, and I stole glances at him every now and then to make sure he was okay. There was no change in his expression—just blankness.

He'd been like that each time I'd seen him since the fall. Just staring at whatever was before him, his face devoid of emotion. Thinking about Abby, no doubt. And I just didn't know what to say to him. I felt the pain of her death, too, but I was me. I'd only known Abigail Kaiser for a few weeks, and most of my time in her company had been spent arguing. How could I try to relate to her brother, who'd grown up with her? It simply wasn't possible.

And so we were silent.

"They put me on suicide watch," he said after a while. His tone was bitter. "I told them my sister was dead, and they put me on suicide watch."

I felt my eyes widen. "What? Trai, I—"

"I didn't think I seemed suicidal," he continued, like he hadn't heard me. He examined his hands, bending and straightening his fingers as he spoke. "You have no idea what it was like, sitting in that stupid white room for days while psychiatrist after psychiatrist came in to question me about my feelings. It was ridiculous, really." As if to enforce his statement, he barked a harsh laugh that hung in the air between us.

"It's all they care about," he murmured. "My sister is dead, and all they care about is making sure I don't kill myself while under their watch." He turned to me, his eyes brimming with emotion. "I wasn't even thinking about suicide."

Once again, I didn't know what to say. Because, despite all the changes I had underwent in regards to my mindset and confidence and character, I was still terrible at dealing with other people's emotions. But, driven by the pain etched into Trai's features, I flung my arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. His fingers pressed into my back and he buried his face in my hair. The gesture wasn't romantic, or desperate, or pitying: it was just two friends who had taken on the world finding solace in each other's arms.

○●○●○●○

Caleb came in a while later, just as I was asking Trai if he knew what he was going to say in his speech. "Hey," he said, closing the door behind him. I returned the greeting, and Trai waved.

I wanted to laugh at the way that Caleb lingered awkwardly at the threshold of the room, but as funny as it was, it was also sad. That's how things always were with the three of us now—stiff. Tense. Awkward. There was a barrier between me and Trai, and Caleb, and none of us knew how to break it. Somewhere inside, I knew that the Superior in front of me was still my friend. It had his face, his thoughts, his personality. At the same time, though, he was so impossibly different that I couldn't figure out where things stood with him.

Things were never going to go back to the way they had been, that was for sure. But I'd realized that ages ago.

"Well," I said after a painfully long pause, "are you going to just stand there, or are you going to come sit down?"

That seemed to relieve some tension, because Caleb relaxed visibly before coming over to sit on the couch opposite us. To avoid a prolonged silence, I asked, "How's Miracle?"

Caleb let out a breathy snort. "Well, that's subjective," he said. "Physically, she's in perfect condition. That stab wound has healed completely. But mentally..." He raked a hand through his hair. "Well, let's just say she still wants to kill me."

I shook my head, and Trai let out a rare laugh. Miracle had been a point of interest for everyone since the fall. The main controversy was amongst the top Pro-Inferior officials, who argued that Caleb's loyalty was obviously lacking if he had found it in himself to save her. Fairleigh, to his credit, took Caleb's side.

Surprisingly, though, Miracle was another story. During our meeting with Fairleigh, he'd shown us security camera clips from her room. In all of them, she'd been screaming at the doctors, threatening to kill them with every breath she took. At one point, after she knocked out an unsuspecting nurse, they'd had to sedate and restrain her.

"She wanted to die," Caleb told us at the meeting. "I think being here, at the mercy of the Pro-Inferiors, is a huge blow to her pride. To her, it feels like she's lost, and it's humiliating."

Caleb had been the only one to see Miracle since arriving in Seattle, and to say she was ungrateful was an understatement. Even though Caleb had dragged her to safety and made sure she received medical attention, she repaid him with nothing but curses and insults.

"She'll have to get used to it eventually," I mused, stepping back into the present. "I mean, this is her life now. She has to learn to be a normal person."

Caleb nodded, but I saw something flicker through his eyes. He looked away, chewing on his bottom lip as if debating whether or not to speak.

"Here's the thing," he said finally, his eyes focusing on the smooth ceiling above his head. "Fairleigh came to speak with me and Miracle yesterday. He said that they're building a new government center where the Capitol used to be." He paused, picking at a loose thread on the couch with uncharacteristic nervousness. "And...he asked me and Miracle to join him there when it's finished. He wants us to be his advisers. There are a lot of, um, things to be done and changes to be made, and he's just one person. And since we're—ah—more intelligent than the average person, he wants our input in decision-making. He thinks that we'd be valuable assets or something."

I raised an eyebrow. "And Miracle agreed to that?"

"She laughed in his face," Caleb said flatly. "As per usual." He shook his head, but still didn't look at me.

"And you?" I asked quietly. "What did you say?"

He finally raised his head to look me in the eye. "I said yes." With a sigh, he settled back into the cushions. "Look, I'd love to go back to school with you guys, to just...be normal. But that's just not a possibility anymore. I mean, I pretty much don't remember anything about my life. And on top of that, well: look at me! I don't exactly look like a normal high school student. Hell, I hardly even look like a normal person. And don't give me that look, Delaney, because you know it's true."

Embarrassed, I looked away.

Beside me, Trai looked up. "You can't give up on people so easily, Caleb," he murmured. "You'd be surprised at the things they can accept."

With anger in his eyes, Caleb turned. "Really, Trai?" he demanded. "Because the other day, Fairleigh sent my parents to come and visit. The parents I can't remember. And they wouldn't even look at me. They stayed for like, an hour, and they didn't look at me once. My own parents. And if they can't accept this"—he made a sloppy gesture toward himself—"then who will?"

He was right, and we all knew it. The Superiors weren't like us, and no amount of faith in people could change that. In the end, their differences would put them at odds with the rest of us, and they'd never be able to live normally outside of the Capitol. I didn't like it, and I'm sure Caleb didn't either, but that was just the way it was. A lot of things would change in the coming weeks, but human nature was not one of them.

Trai was saved the task of answering, because just then, the door was pushed open. Nessa stood on the other side, her hands clenched around the sides of a tablet, wearing a suit much like Sioban's. She smiled ruefully at us as she crossed the threshold.

"We're ready for you," she said, her tone conciliatory. She was trying to be irenic, I could tell, but none of us were quite ready to forgive her for lying to us. We filed after her, but no one said a word.

She brought us down a narrow hallway, out through a door, and into a dim outdoor area shielded on all sides by black curtains. I realized that we were in the eaves of the stage I had seen from our waiting room.

"Right over here," Nessa said, leading us to a circle of fold-out chairs. Jeremy Fairleigh stood beside them, sipping from a paper cup of coffee and listening as Sioban read him his notes from a tablet.

"Ah, there you are," he said, smiling at us as we approached. "We're just about to begin. Nessa, will you give them their cues?"

"Jeremy is going to go out first," Nessa told us. "He'll welcome everyone, introduce himself and give a little pre-speech. When he says 'I'd like to present three very special guests', the three of you will enter through there." She pointed to a gap at the end of the curtains. "Jeremy will call you up one at a time to speak: Delaney first, followed by Caleb, then Trai. Got it?"

We nodded. Before walking away to Perfecta, who was standing among the Pro-Inferiors milling about backstage, she offered us a small grin. I forced myself to return it.

"Water?" Sioban asked, diverting my attention from Nessa's retreating form. She held out three cold plastic bottles, her expression eager. I took them, thanking her, and passed them on to Caleb and Trai.

"Sir, it's time!" A small, bespectacled man with dark hair hurried over, his glasses askew.

Fairleigh nodded and handed his half-finished coffee to Sioban. "Thank you, Rob." He flashed us a smirk, saying, "See you on stage," before dashing through the side entrance.

I could hear the cheers even from backstage. Hundreds upon hundreds of people, all of them screaming and clapping. In my mind's eye, I could picture Fairleigh, poised as ever, waving and smiling to the legion spread out before him.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Seattle," he began, his voice pouring from the speakers onstage, "it is my pleasure to be here today, addressing this beautiful city. As you know, I am Jeremy Fairleigh, the head of the Pro-Inferiors and the leader of this transition in our government." He paused as more cheers rang out. "I thank you all for coming out to support us, and I hope that the alterations we make to this country will ultimately result in your happiness.

"That, more than anything, is our goal. We wish for each and every one of you to be happy in this country. We want to build a safe environment for future generations, and to repair the damage that has been done by the Superiors. It won't happen overnight, of course, but with your support and perseverance, we will fix things.

"There are many measures we will take in order to return this country to its former glory, but it will begin with the extermination of the Popularity system in our schools. We will enforce the idea that everyone is equal, that everyone is worthy, that everyone can succeed."

The applause at that was deafening.

"Many of you have lost children and friends to the previous government, unaware of what really transpired within the Capitol walls. But I promise you, ladies and gentlemen, we will avenge them! Every single child who died at the hands of the Superiors will be remembered. It is in all of their names that this government will be built.

"Now, I know that these transitions have been difficult. Many government workers are out of jobs, many people are still missing, and at the moment, there is not a solid constitution to fall back on. But you can count on us. As I speak to you now, there are hundreds of dedicated Pro-Inferior volunteers working on new laws, regulations, and systems. It will take time and patience for everything to work out, but I can guarantee that it will work out. We are here for you, and you will have the leadership you deserve."

Fairleigh didn't speak for a moment as Seattle's citizens applauded, cheered, and whistled, their voices blending together into one endless note of praise. When at last they fell to silence, Fairleigh resumed his speech, but now, his voice was quieter.

"There are still matters unresolved," he said with soft intensity. "Dr. David Leary, the man behind the Superiors, is still alive, somewhere, and he will never give up. But we will find him, stop him, and make sure his twisted idea of government never comes to fruition again. And until then, we can join together, all the people of this city, this state, this country—and raise our voices for the one thing that unites us: change.

"Change. A beautiful word, really, for all the strength and hope it entails. It will be our word, all of ours. We will shout it from rooftops, whisper it into our neighbor's ear; from coast to coast, ocean to ocean, through all the countless cities and counties and states, this word will be on the tongue of every person. And whether you are a ninety-nine-year-old woman, a forty-year-old man, or a child no higher than my knee, we need you. You are the key to our future, the trigger that will set this project in motion. It will be difficult, it will be trying, but we will make this country great."

The crowd's anticipation was palpable as Jeremy Fairleigh took a breath, waiting. Then, in a voice so loud and determined that it must have been heard across the universe, he yelled, "For change!"

And a thousand voices, young and old, echoed his powerful mantra. "For change!" they screamed.

The people erupted. They shouted and raved and clapped and cried, the sound of it flooding into my mind and turning my knees to slush. So many people, so dedicated and focused, so passionate about this single, six-letter word.

"Thank you!" Fairleigh boomed, bringing the group to silence. "Thank you, all of you. We am ever grateful for your unending support. However," he said, "this day is not all about us, the Pro-Inferiors. It is about remembrance. We must never forget the Superiors, lest we fall victim to their mistakes again. And here to help you remember are three people who know the Superiors' faults better than anyone. I'd like to present to you three very special guests—"

Our cue. I glanced at the boys, who stared back solemnly. Sioban hurried over and took the barely-sipped water bottles from our hands. And together, in single file, we strode onto the stage.

"—Delaney Escott, Caleb Payne, and Trai Kaiser," Fairleigh finished. "These children have been through horrors that no one should ever face, and today, they are here to share their experiences with you. After hearing their stories, I can guarantee that you'll walk away from here as a different person. So, without further ado, allow me to introduce our first speaker, fifteen-year-old Delaney Escott."

With a smile, Fairleigh stepped away from the podium in the center of the stage. Trai, Caleb, and I were standing in a straight line, facing the crowd, a few feet behind the small wooden structure.

"It's all yours," Fairleigh said, coming to stand beside us. Trai reached over and squeezed my hand, and when I looked back, he and Caleb were smiling at me with the kind of encouragement that only a friend can give.

I took a deep breath, and took a step forward.

One foot in front of the other, I thought, listening to my hollow footsteps against the stage floor. As I approached the podium, I was struck with the strange sense of being out of my body, experiencing the moment through another person's eyes.

In hindsight, perhaps I should have been nervous. Perhaps I should have been quaking in my boots, so to speak, at the prospect of speaking in front of so many people. But I wasn't. As I stepped onto the podium stand, I didn't feel anything but ready.

The sun shone into my eyes as I stood there, looking out onto the lawn. A million faces stared back at me, waiting.

In the split second before I leaned into the microphone, I wondered what I would say. I hadn't prepared anything; I'd hardly given this speech a thought. What if all my words got clogged in my throat, and I looked like a fool?

But the instant I opened my mouth, any shadow of doubt was quickly erased. A flood of words was suddenly pouring from my lips, unbidden but not unwelcome, and echoing through the speakers to fill the air around me.

Several weeks before, I never would have been able to do this: to stand in front of countless people, completely exposed to all their brutality, and speak. I would have frozen up and then, most likely, dissolved into tears. But I was a different person now. Now, I had a purpose.

Because people had to know. They had to realize what human beings were capable of, so that they never made the same mistakes again.

Every word that trickled off my tongue was dedicated to one thing, a single intent that drove me on through the seconds, minutes—maybe even hours. They were not for Fairleigh, or for Trai or Caleb or Abby, or for the endless sea of faces before me, or even for myself.

They were for the two words that the crowd had been chanting moments before.

For change.

No one knew what would happen next. Leary was still out there, Fairleigh was still untrustworthy, Abby was still gone, and nothing was set in stone. The future was nothing but a haze of uncertainty. But right now, it didn't matter. Right now, there was me, a microphone, and thousands of spellbound people who listened in rapt attention as I told them everything. Every glorious detail, starting at the very beginning, with the fateful night when my best friend dragged me along to a party that changed my life.

A/N: Well. I'm not sure if this was the ending you all were expecting (or if anyone had any expectations at all), but here it is! I know it's long and not too eventful, but this chapter was really about tying up loose ends and such.

However, this is not quite over.

The epilogue is already written from a long time ago, I just have to do some (major) editing so that it's up to par. It'll be up either tonight or early tomorrow. I'll also be doing an extra chapter (which I'm calling "Chapter X") that will kind of give a look at what happens after, once everything settles down. It'll be short, and I should have it up by tomorrow.

Oh, and that dress on the side is what I imagine Delaney's dress to look like... it's hardly important, but I just felt the need to share xD.

And did you guys know that "Sioban" is actually pronounced "Shevaun"? Because I sure didn't... I just used that name because it was the first to pop into my head xD. It's actually really pretty-sounding. I'll have to use it again sometime...

Anyway, I apologize for my super long and rambling author's note that very likely ruined any mood this chapter might have set. But if you liked this, please vote, comment, and share! :)

(OkayIswearI'llshutupnow--)