You are viewing a story from harrypotterfanfiction.com
View Online | Printer Friendly Version of Entire Story
Chapter 2: Book Zero: Chapter 2: Hospital
Everyone who reads this; Please read my authors note at the bottom.
---------------------------Broken - Book Zero: Chapter Two: The Hospital----------------------------
A woman's scream cut fiercely through the stale night as bright, green light flashed before his eyes, sadistic laughter filling his ears.
Harry awoke with a start. That dream again. It occupied many of his nights. Unforutnatley - not all of them. There were many others. Others filled with people wrenching in pain, the horrifing verbal protests eminating from their lungs scratching at his ears.
Rainbows of light were wrought upon them, decorating their corpses, long after their minds had been torn to shreds. He was filled with this unbearable, empty feeling as he waited through it. Just like every other night.
Children stung worse than all the others. He didn't understand how such beings, so young and innocent - deserved this. It didn't seem plausible.
His hair stuck to his face, sweat serving as glue. He brushed his hand across it, relieving that particularily nasty feeling for the time being. The young boy looked up. The dingy little cupboard he took such solice in felt...different.. It didn't feel quite so musty. And it didn't reek of dirt, blood and...well... Dirt, blood and...Harry shook his head. He didn't want to think about it. In fact, it smelled...weird. Sort of like cleaning supplies. Must mean some one was really scrubbing the house down, for the smell to have reached inside the cupboard. And the only other person in the house who ever cleaned was...crap.
"Gahh! I'm sorry!" He yelled frantically. Uncle Vernon punished him whenever Aunt Petunia was forced to do his chores. That conflicted quite a bit with the object of this game!
Recieve as little punishment as possible. Be a good person.
He moved to get up and out of the cupboard to start working, Only to rediscover his new injuries.
Avoidence Strategy #3: Don't give a damn about your pain. It doesn't matter. Your mistake does.
His pained voice apoligized to the darkness. Crying out his apologies to a non-existent persecueter.
instead of Howling out in pain, he forced 'I'm sorry', over and over, with a pained voice and expression. He started to crawl desperately through the darkness. Where was the latch for the door?
Of course, akin to what happes the night after one of Uncle Vernon's 'office parties', it all came back like a ton of bricks when a light was flipped on, and he found three people standing in a doorway a short distance away from the corner he had positioned himself in.
Well, a 'ton' might be exaggerating. But thats just comparing it to what Harry knew awaited him. To any other other child, expect a good thunderstorm in the near -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Outside Harry's room, Molly Weasley clutched her husbands shirt and sobbed. The last statement Celeste dropped on them still clawing at her heart.
'... I hate to say this, but I don't know if we can pull him out of this.'
Celeste hated this - the watching, the telling, everything. And there wasn't much she could do with Harry in this state. Rubbing her face with a flat hand, she tried to come up with some words of hope. Several times she opened her mouth, ready to speak - but one look at the Weasleys made her realize, No, that won't work. She gazed around the hall, hopelessly looking for inspiration. The white stone floor offered no help, the whiteness of them was blinding in some places, making her wonder what genius thought up that idea. She silently begged the walls, but they just ignored her. Alas, she was forced to just ask anyone who would answer.
And they just gave her that intoxicating smell of cleaners. In the end, nothing came out of her mouth.
The war was so much easier than this. She gasped silently. Had she really just thought that? Celeste was about to punish whatever voice in her head that said that, but then, she realized: It was easier than Harry's case. In the war, at least they were cut, or bleeding - something that she could heal with her hands. And whenever someone got the shakes about killing someone, despite that person being a killer themselves, she could fix that, too. It was common, so a good, reassuring talk about how they just saved many more people from being killed by ending that person's live got them right back up on their feet.
You didn't just kill one person, you also saved those lives that could have been lost today. You did the right thing.
They still had their sanity when they were being treated. But, this boy, he didn't quite have that anymore. That doesn't mean he's like those deranged axe-murderers. Well, actually, he is - in a sense. When you look Sanity up in the dictionary, you'll probably find something like this:
Main Entry: san·i·ty
Inflected Form: plural -ties
1.The quality or condition of being sane; soundness of mind.
2. Soundness of judgment or reason.
Harry didn't even have 'soundness of mind' anymore - if there was even a time he had it, having lived with the Dursleys througought his entire childhood, thus far. All she wanted to ask was: 'Who the hell did this to Harry?' and 'Who gets the honor of hanging them from the ceiling by their genitals?'. She knew, of course, that hanging them by their genitals would generally be against hospital policy, but its not like she cared. She'd drag the bastards out of friggin' Azkaban just to kick their asses.
She was also pretty damn sure that the Dursley family of disgraces did this, so the 'who the hell did this to Harry?' was really just a formality. They only really needed Harry to point his finger at them and, BLAM! locked up. But if they couldn't get that, well, there were some things from the war that she remembered.
Specifically how to break a person's mind apart from the inside out. It was basic physcology, really. You just have to stop at a certain stage in the proccess used to brainwash someone.
Too bad, because for now, she would just have to be patient and wait.
And how she hated waiting
Celeste was just opening her mouth to tell them that they should come by again tomorrow, after visiting Harry for a bit, so they could discuss the situation, when she was interrupted by a loud yell coming from the room to her side.
"I'm sorry!" It sounded painful, and this time, it was loud enough that you could hear it through the closed door, if only just a little.
"Harry!" Molly shouted with a worried expression on her face. What was wrong now? She didn't know what could have gone bad, but it was horribly apparent that something had. I'd have to say it was the pain in his voice, but it could have been that good old motherly intuition. She shot her head up a second before he yelled. She shot into the room, inadvertently dragging Arthur with her, as she still had a nice little fistful of his shirt.
Merely a split second after Harry had cried out, Molly and Arthur burst into the room , Arthur only just balancing on his two feet, following his wife, part out of choice and partly because she wasn't letting go of his shirt. Celeste stood behind them, looking at the boy, who had his eyes clenched shut, holding his right arm with his left. By the looks of it, it hurt, judging by the blood dripping off the ragged and dirty ends of the 'shirt' he wore.
Harry looked up at them, in shock. As if he had just remembered where he was and what had happened. And Arthur looked at Harry for the first time in years. Peering into the boy' s one visible, wide eye, he finally got what his older brother meant when, on his death bead, his body twisted and mangled, his flesh burnt and torn - his brother had released a small chuckle and said in response to his Arthur's horrified look.
"There are people worse off then me, bro. At least I was still alive when I died."
His brother worked with dark spell victims, which often shattered the victims mind, their sanity, if you will. This made him wonder - how much darkness and hate would it take to do this to a man? Even more, how much to do it to a boy? An innocent little boy.
Those eyes of his, while so much like Lily's, a bright emerald green, held none of the sparkle of the warmth that hers once did. He remembered Molly refusing to look at her body to identify her once she heard that her eyes were still open. She wanted to remember the life they once held. Not the cold death that they had now.
He could only imagine if Lily's eyes had looked like her son's did now, as her last breath escaped her. He shuddered. It was too horrible a thought.
But Harry's eyes were filled with fear and emptiness.
It scared the hell out of him, seeing these eyes on someone just three months older than his daughter. It was enough to freak any parent out. Or anyone, for that matter.
Out of nowhere, Harry made a slightly smaller jump, as if just realizing something. This sudden action broke Arthur out of his reverie and brought his attention to his state of dress and...overall 'I-just-went-through-a-wood-chipper-and-got-put-back-together appearance'. He appeared to have a broken arm and leg, and the cuts littered his body - some still fresh, given away by the red hue of swelling and the blood. Others were old and fading, while others were seemed permanently etched onto his skin. His face, based on what was visible behind the hair, unlike his bare arms and legs, appeared to be mostly untouched. It seemed that Vernon Dursley didn't want to kill the boy. Not physically, at least.
But there was a particularly nasty scar running across his right cheek. This one was thicker than most of the others, and appeared to be cut with something dull...like a butter knife.
Athur cringed at that thought. How much would that hurt? He shook his head. He didn't want to know. He regretted seeing Harry. No, wait. Molly would kill him if he left it at that. He would've preferred never having to see him like this.
I still cannot see why Dumbledore made him live with that awful lot, who as we were all aware, despise wizards, when Molly is his...well, almost godmother!' He ranted to himself.
Arthur started taking deep, calming breaths as the others had different thoughts going through their heads. Mainly how they were going to kill the Dursleys, and how they could possibly help Harry. If a kid wakes up and immediately starts apologizing, how fucked up do they have to be? Can anyone spell 'no-mental-health-what-so-bloody-ever'?
Celeste, having had dealt with similar...albeit the similarities end at some point, situations, was the first to gain control of all main motor functions after a minute of silence.
"H-Harry," She started, her voice cracking with grief. Why don't you get some sleep? I can only imagine that your tired," she told him, pointing at the bed while making the mistake of looking him in the eye. Her breath caught as her throat constricted as she looked upon at the same site that had left Arthur frightened just moments early, and her eyes watered.
Harry, looked around the room, searching for the bearer of the name 'Harry', coming up empty-handed. The white walls were scarcely visible in the darkness, as was much everything else. The only light came from the door. While bright, it did not do much for him except blind him ; his eyes had not adjusted yet.
The others were left confused, as Harry looked at them, waiting for one of them to react to the name, and stake their claim upon the bed. He was now very confused. That brown-haired woman with the blue eyes was looking at him.
Was he 'Harry'? No, that couldn't be. He wasn't worthy of a name. He was sure of it. Thats why he was called 'boy' all the time. He wasn't a good enough person to be graced by such a good thing as a name.
Maybe it was some sort of insult? Perhaps 'Harry' was another, exotic word for 'idiot'. Or 'fool'. It probably meant something like 'waste of space'. It did seem like an foreign enough insult.
To go to the bed, or not to go to the bed, that is the question. Really tough question..how should he answer?
On the one hand, there was that awfully comfy looking pillow. That clean blanket. It all looked so good. Who could turn it down? Maybe if it was on fire..or itchy...but it wasn't either...so, what should he do?
Ah, that is where the other hand comes in. There was the almost certain assumption that he would wake up chained down with plastic tubes. And then the punishment. While Harry was used to pain, he did not like it. And, believe it or not, pain actually hurt.
Big shocker there, eh?
Glad your learning.
But, then, good old leftie put something new on the table: It was an order. He was told to do it. There was now way he could possibly not do it. That only ever brought upon pain.
And, once again, the point of this game was to receive as little pain as possible.
So, hesitantly, he started crawling over to the bed. Fear showed in his body language like your face shows up a mirror. And his reflection didn't have any fresh, out of the shower steam clouding it. His hand clenched every time it hit the dark green floor, apparently reaching out for some form of support. Molly moved to help the boy.
Celeste wanted to stop her. There was this tugging at her heart, saying that the action may just scare the boy more. But, she did not voice her thoughts. He had moved maybe one foot in the past minute, with the bed being maybe seven feet away. And she didn't want to just stand there and watch the poor kid struggle. That would be viciously cruel on her part.
Molly edged near the boy slowly, as to not frighten him with sudden movement. She wanted, of course, to just run over there and help, but that damn logic just kept getting in her way.
The older woman stifled a gasp when he finally noticed her coming closer, gazing up with those cold, green, lifeless eyes. She had yet to stare into them, as the last time she looked at him, out in the hallway, he was shaking his head back and forth to fast for much anyone to get a glimpse. But, now she was the only one left to see them. And it was time to earn her brownie points. Looking away for a moment to regain control, she continued towards the boy, soothing words racking themselves up in her mind. She was armed and ready to get this scared little boy to bed.
He reflexively edged away once she entered his 'comfort zone'; An arms length away. One could only speculate as to why that was. Because they couldn't hit him from beyond and arms-length away. He seemed to have guesstimated her arm length, as it was much shorter than Arthur's would have been. It did seem that years of abuse and running for his life from miscellanious, and randomly thrown object had led him to become very observant.
Molly, of course, started pouring on the soothing words, telling him that she wasn't going to hurt him, just help him get to bed. And it would've worked, on just about any other child. But, not Harry. He remained ignorant of the words and, for the most part, her, and just gazed up fearfully. Harry continued to edge away slowly until his back collided with something solid, causing a small, suppressed yelp of pain to e scape his mouth. He obviously had a protocol for this sort of situation, something he'd evolved over time which he knew normally reduced .
He began with another round of stuttered 'I'm sorry' which drowned out all other noise and drenched the already 'I'm sorry' soaked adults in the room.
And Arthur enjoyed his first fear-filled 'rain' to the fullest. If only it was real rain. At least then it could have hidden his distressed tears among the water droplets.
Once again, Mrs Weasley continued slowly towards Harry, bending low to the floor, inching painfully slowly forwards, just telling him over and over again that she only wanted to help him. She forced a smile, and held back her tears, but eventually the dam broke and the tears flooded forward, making Harry even more nervous, and even more desperate to get away from these people.
She couldn't wait any longer. His pain was too much for even her to bear. In one swift movement, she lifted him carefully off the floor. Big mistake, of course. Harry instantly began to squirm as she tried desperately not to drop him. Harry panicked, he hought the bed would bring even more pain; more hurt. The struggle continued but eventually, Molly managed to get Harry to the bed. She placed his whimpering form down on the bed and backed away slowly, still talking soothingly to him.
Harry looked out his window as the sun peeked up, signaling that the day had come. There were few people on the streets outside, but there were still a decent amount of cars. It appeared he was high up in wherever he was, as the buses and cars looked very small. Not ant-sized...but small nonetheless.
Off in the distance, beyond all the smaller four or five story buildings that surrounded him, he could just make out huge factories with smoke billowing out of long pipes that hovered over everything else. He could only imagine what type of smell came out of those. He had never been in a city before. Of, course, he saw images of a cities in the T.V., whenever he got a chance to peek at it. But it seemed so much bigger in real life.
He hadn't slept all night, with the paranoia of being attached to tubes and stuff. Actually, he never slept very much. Always too afraid to wake up late. Of course, he didn't know why because when he did sleep, most of the time he woke up late because he was that tired. But, he was only five, so he did deserve a break.
With the little light that the sun granted him, he was finally able to make out the room he was in. It was, like the rest of the hospital, white. But this room had more of a gray floor, unlike the white stone ones outside. Why were hospitals so often white, anyways? Was it so they could easily make out any bodily fluids that may be on the surfaces?
There was a second door placed to the entry and exit door that he hadn't noticed in the dark the previous night.
He wondered where the door led for a second before continuing his observations.
The room was empty save for a few chairs. Harry wondered what these were for. This was all so confusing. Maybe they were for the people who were going to punish him for being bad? Yeah, that made sense. That way at least they could be cozy while he suffered!
There was a rail for a curtain above him, the curtain for it folded up against the wall. Why would they need a curtain? Fnishing his sweep of the room, he was left with more questions than he had answered.
Several people had entered the room throughout the night, asking questions. The questions confused him. He was never asked questions. Just told. And they were nice questions , too . Like : 'do you need anything?', at which he would promptly shake his head. He wasn't allowed to have anything. Anything he ever got, or rather, found, was quickly taken away by Dudley, who would go show his parents and tell them on him. Afterwards, he loved to make a big show of smashing whatever it was, while making Harry watch. Harry hadn't found anything since he was four. Probably because he hadn't been outside very much since then. He used to be let outside at night, mainly to do chores out there. But it was still better than doing them inside the house. Especially since his uncle wasn't yelling at him for doing it wrong over and over. He still had to deal with it in the morning, of course.
He hadn't been outside since that one time he ran into a little old lady, who was very nice and gave him some candy. A little red lollipop. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. He had been in big trouble when he got back. His uncle and Dudley were still up, watching a movie, when he came in through the back door with the end of a lollipop poking through his lips. He had gotten in big trouble for accepting the lady's kindness when he knew he wasn't supposed to.
And since these people were being nice to him, he didn't want to know how much trouble he would be in when he got back.
Harry's stomach growled loudly as he stared at the tray of food on the table next to his bed longingly. This blond-haired woman with blue eyes brought it in. She reminded him of that nice old lady, a little. He couldn't explain it, but there was this quality about her...was it something in her smile? It seemed...different from any smiles he usually saw. He didn't quite understand, but it seemed...warmer?
He was scared to touch the food, despite the nurse telling him to 'eat up'. It was an order, and he couldn't disobey. But hadn't his uncle always told him he didn't deserve good food? This food looked good. So he couldn't have it, right?
He buried his face into his hands, trying to relieve that nagging frustration in the back of his head. Why did they torture him like this? It would be so much easier than this...
His musing's were cut of by a soft 'click' as the door to his far left was opened, and that brown-haired lady with the blue eyes entered, a soft, partly forced smile on her face as she saw that Harry was up.
"Good morning, Harry!" He flinched when she spoke, and opened his mouth to say, "I'm sorry," when she continued speaking "You have some visitors today!" Harry looked on at her, a confused look mixed in with fear on his face. Visitors? He knew that word, a little. Uncle Vernon sometimes told him that someone or another was 'visiting', and that he was supposed to stay in the cupboard, keep quiet and pretend he didn't exist, or else. He rather enjoyed it when these visitors came over. It gave him some time to sleep without much fear.
But, no one had ever visited him. He relatives made sure of that. And no one would want to visit him, anyways, so why were these visitors visiting him? It couldn't be good, that was for sure.
Celeste frowned as the boy in front of her got a far off look in his face, lost deep in thought. She could figure some of what he was thinking, by what she could judge of his physc. And she didn't like it. But she couldn't much do anything about it, so she just went on.
"Remember that red-headed woman from yesterday?" She asked of him, knowing, or rather, figuring that he would be curious as the who would be visiting him. His head snapped up, and he promptly gave as stiff nod, his hair bouncing as he did so. He was glad that he would be granted with such knowledge. But he couldn't help to wonder, was she visiting him, or what?
"Well, she, Molly that is, and her husband are coming you. They should be here in...er," She paused and pulled her wrist up to her face, peering at her watch. It was currently 7:49, so..."I'd normally say, ten or so minutes, but, knowing Molly..." She trailed off, sighing dramatically as a loud 'crack' sounded from outside of the room.
"As to be expected. I'll go bring them in, OK?" She asked him, smiling sweetly at him, forcing nicer images to her mind so she could actually do so. Harry once again nodded, 'Yes'.
Celeste left the room with one final, concerned look at the young boy.
Molly turned to face the direction of the door as a soft click was heard. Celeste stepped out, a sad frown on her face. A sigh escaped her lips.
"How is he today?" She asked with tired eyes. She hadn't been able to sleep, the flow of thoughts unceasing. The last time she had felt this terrible was the night Lily and James died.
"Gah....still pretty freakin' bad." Celeste responded, allowing a small scowl to cross her face, her thoughts being brought back to the horrible people that did this to the innocent little boy. She cocked her head to the side. "You didn't honestly expect a change, did you, Molly?"
Molly looked down defeatedly. "Well, no. I just thought, maybe.."
"Yea, I know, Molly." The doctor responded sympathetically "Its always good to hope."
The other woman nodded in understanding.
"So...wasn't Arthur coming?" Celeste asked, looking around the room in confusion.
Molly crossed her arms and let out a small breath of frustration
"Perkins slipped a disk or something, so he's off for the day. And naturally, Fudge forced Arthur to come in..." She explained as Celeste let out a bored 'ah'. The doctor had hoped for something more...exciting. Maybe a grand tale of carnivorous tea-cups and hope deprived struggle to oppose their ceramic oppression! And Arthur would be the lone hero who could save us all from their forces!
Slipped disks just weren't very cool.
"Anyways," She cut in before Molly went on another 'Fudge' rant, with her screaming about his incompetence and ignorance...those were just so much fun to hear. "Lets go see how little Harry is, eh? Hopefully he's touched his food by now." Celeste allowed an inkling of what she new to be false hope slip in.
Molly nodded in agreement as Celeste pushed the door behind her in, exposing the room to the outside world. They came upon Harry, his eyes wide with fear, fixed on them as the entered quietly. His left arm was laying on his lap, and his legs extended in front of him. His back was propped up on the head of the bed.
Both women were disappointed when they saw that the food placed on the table next to him remained untouched. Harry twitched his leg nervously as he stared into their eyes. He got this terrible aching feeling in the pit of his chest, yelling, screaming at him to run. Self-preservation was very important to that feeling, it appeared. But the boy held true, denying the path his heart had pointed out, and instead choosing the path of fear, chosen for him by the horrors painfully carved into his mind.
All was quiet but for a moment as Harry's heart beat strongly, in fact, painfully, in his chest. His little green eyes shifted cautiously between the two.
"Ah, eh, Harry! Yes, this is Molly Weasly. You remember, that woman I was telling you about just a little bit ago... Anyways - Oh, you must be wondering where Arthur is!" She rambled on quickly, stuttering at points. Those eyes...just, didn't belong on a child. Wait, no.
They didn't belong on anyone.
She cringed under his blank and terrified gaze, unable to complete the process of beading a few words together.
Celeste, closing her eyes, pulled a little, cheap red lollipop from her pocket, normally reserved as hand-outs for the younger visitors and patients, and began idly sucking at it. Molly looked at her funny upon noticing, as if to say - 'What the hell?'.
"Here, it'll calm the nerves." Celeste spoke simply, pulling out an identical candy. The woman next to her just stared out her outstretched hand with a confused expression. This action attracted the younger ones attention, as she brought it to her face, examining it.
"You don't like cherry?" A disdained looked crossed her face, as if she felt mortally betrayed by anyone who didn't like cherry. "I have apple, if you'd like.." She let her words dissapear as vapor in the air, fumbling through one of the pockets in her outfit.
"Uh, no...Cherry's fine" Molly said, halting Celeste's search. The docter grew a smile small as she realized Molly wasn't an apple loving shrewd.
Celeste strolled over to the chair position to Harry's right, and started tinkering with another pocket, apparently on the inside of her uniform, eventually tugging a clipboard out, the papers ruffled from the excursion from the depths. She began mumbling to herself, checking things, and scribbling now and then with a pen on the papers. Almost entirely forgetting the other two occupants, until Molly spoke up.
"Celeste...." The a forementioned doctor jumped up in surprise, her pen making a loud scratching noise as it was cut across the clipboard.
"Oh..yea, Molly. Sorry about that. I kinda zone out sometimes. Really easy to scare me." She threw in a nervous laugh as she scanned the room for her missing utensil.
"So..what did ya want?" She spoke from a hunched position on the floor, reaching under Harry's bed, feeling for the pen.
"What about Harry?" Molly pointed at the confused and fearful boy, who seemed confused by his name.
"Ah, well, I dunno. I'm working on his chart. Why don't you talk to him? We still don't know all that has happened..." Grunting sounds came out of her mouth as she tried to extend her arm so that it could reach the lost pen. Molly looked aprehensively at Harry, sure that he was disturbed at the thought of recalling such memories, only to find that he was still staring at them blankly. He jumped a little upon eye contact, but did no more but gaze on much the way he had been upon their arrival.
Harry nibbled silently on the piece of bread he held in his hand. He never took his eyes off the woman in front of him. She had been...begging? Yes, begging him to eat every time she came to visit for the past few...days? It felt so much longer...but he didn't know. He was hardly aware of anything but the echoes of footsteps, flowing into his room, still tensing up every time he saw one of those weird people peek into his room, on twenty-four hour watch for the punishment he was sure to receive.
Had he been so bad that they needed to torture him like this so that he may atone? But...this woman...Mrs. Weasley? Yeah, that was it. She...seemed so sincere every time she walked in, bringing with her this bright air of an emotion he could hardly recognize. Kindness. For some strange reason, she seemed to care, a deep look of disdain crossing her face twice a day as the food placed out for him, apparently, remained untouched.
She...talked to him, a lot. Weirded him out every time he heard another human voice talking to him without malice. But, despite that unease - he still wished it could stay like this. He didn't understand why, though. Questioning himself 'Why?' everyday. Telling himself the pain was definitely coming.
Every time she came, she told him stories. Every day, about a different person. She was very exuberant when doing this. Making her own sound effects, and waving her hands to express what she was saying.
But he liked that ones about these people she called his parents the most. He was pretty sure she did, too. She got a far off look and a smile on her face at the end of each one, a small chuckle escaping her as she reminisced.
"Alright, Harry! Any questions?" She called to the younger, looking at him earnestly, praying that he would speak, today. Needing him to speak. Just one word.
Harry cast his gaze down upon his bedsheets nervously, chewing on his tongue, and contemplating voicing his mind. Molly felt a small glimmer of hope surface inside her chest, this was the closest he had ever gotten to asking one, before! He fidgeted a little more, hissing a little in pain - he still refused to let anyone close enough to help him, before silently shaking his head, and mumbling a small, nervous 'no'. The Weasley mother sighed in dissapointment, but was willing to accept the little amount of progress gained today.
Gah...sorry for the long wait time, people. But we ran into quite a few bumps. I promise to get the next one out faster.
Is it weird that I feel guilty when I don't owe you anything?
Anyways, I want to thank Tine, my new beta, Anna, and of course, Celeste - just 'cause.
Now, I have a favor to ask of you guys.
I need reviews telling me what you think. What did I do wrong, what could I do better? What do you think of the story so far?
I love writing this story, and hope you enjoy reading it.
Thanks a lot!