The Sidereus Prophecy Epilogue free porn video

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read the story. The encouragement I received through comments here and e-mails I received, along with the enjoyment I had in writing the whole thing, has convinced me to write again. It won't be as long, but it will be TG- themed. Please let me know about what you think about the saga as a whole either here, or by e-mail: [email protected] DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. EPILOGUE: I heard a knock on the door of my dressing room. "Abby, you're on in five minutes." It was Mr. Atwater. I replied, "OK. I'll be right out." A minute later, I exited the room and walked down the long corridor toward the stage area. My band was already there. Ethan grinned, "Hey, Abby, it's cold in here, isn't it?" We were playing in a hockey rink, and no matter what, I always found them cold, even with the ice removed. It was as if the months I spent in LA had permanently altered my core temperature. Ethan peered down at my chest, and the grin never left his face. Andrew frowned, "Hey man, that's not cool. Don't stare. She can't help it. It is cold in here tonight." Ethan put his hands up defensively, "Dude, I was not staring. I was just pointing out Abby's little problem before she- you know goes out on stage in front of thousands of people with deadly weapons attached to her chest." Andrew laughed at Ethan's retort. I shook my head, "You're both asses." I sighed gently, "I'm going to ask them to put one of those industrial space heaters on stage. It's-" Steven smirked, "Forget that. Why don't you just ask them to get us Jacuzzi suits? I can drum in a Jacuzzi suit." I glared at Steven, "I really don't think it's too much to ask. I've heard you drum before when you are frozen. It's tick-tock-crap." Steven said apologetically, "Woah, chill out, Abby. I was just joking. You know we don't think you're a diva. Your suggestion was totally reasonable." I frowned gently, "I know. It's just- I guess I'm still really sensitive about stuff like that. I need to know ..." Steven interrupted and said, "We'll let you know. Don't worry about it so much. We've all got super sensitive diva meters." Ethan grinned, "Stop being such a girl, Abby. It goes both ways you know. You can't insult my hockey team or my pants and expect to avoid your share of the abuse." I raised my hand and said, "First of all, those pants that Alyssa had you try on made your legs look like red licorice. Second of all- Bruins sucks." Ethan said, "Since when do you get to decide what I wear?" I smirked and said, "Since the day you decided you thought those pants looked good." Ethan looked insulted, but only momentarily. A boyish grin appeared on his face, "Does that mean I get to decide what you wear, sometimes? Like when we are-" I blushed, my mind filling in the blank. I pictured Ethan and I in bed together, his arms wrapped around my body as his tongue traversed my neck. We weren't really wearing anything though, unless you counted the sheets. I didn't even hear the rest of what Ethan said. Ethan said, "Like if I can find an outfit like Juliette wears in Lollipop Chainsaw, would you really wear it? Or like Lara Croft or something even?" Andrew said, "Sorry to interrupt teenage boy fantasy 101, but we are on in less than a minute now. Let's focus now. Abby- Ethan, you with me?" We both nodded and said in unison, "Yes, Dad!" This was followed by giggling from both of us. Andrew shook his head, "It wasn't funny last night, and it's not funny tonight. Also- wasn't funny two weeks ago." Steven smirked, "It is kind of funny. You are rocking a dad vibe pretty hard tonight. I'm pretty sure you called one of the roadies sport." Andrew sighed, "What about the space heaters? It's too late now." I slipped on a familiar looking green hoodie and said, "No worries. I'll take it off after the first song, but we should probably get some heaters and travel with them. Damn hockey rinks." Andrew nodded and moved into position on stage. Steven did the same, while Ethan and I trailed behind. I leaned in, and we shared a quick kiss. I whispered in his ear, "To answer your question, yes. If you can find the outfit, I'll wear it." Ethan exclaimed loudly, "Sickest girl ever!" I picked my guitar up from the rack. It was the one John had custom built for his daughter, the design- a bed of roses surrounded by a legion of skulls, and the colour- hot pink. I had no fear any longer that the guitar would remove my rock credibility or further bury my male go. I also didn't care that it was pink. As a former pop princess, I had worn some of the most outlandish outfits in existence. During "Your Angel Kiss", I had donned a pair of feathery wings, a pair of transparent knee-high boots along with a glittering, satin bikini. A pink guitar was nothing. I raised my arm and as I struck the first chord, the stage lights burst to life, eliciting a deafening cheer from the thousands in attendance. We were on the beginning of a six month tour. As we shredded through the first song, I thought about what brought us here. I took Martin's advice. Despite the consequences, I wanted to heal the infected world that I had helped to create. A world where the masses would be ruled by distractions in the form of a cult- the cult of celebrity. I had hoped that "Wake Up" would become an anthem for those affected by the Prophecy, a song of protest against a corrupt, controlling force. And amazingly, the young woman featured in the song was soon joined in spirit by millions across the world. The song was a remarkable success, not only in what it did for my career and my image, but how it catapulted rock back into the stream of popular conscious. Just as "Smells Like Teen Spirit" had washed away the keytar and hair metal distaste of the 1980s, "Wake Up" created a rebirth in rock, and in six short months, rock music was back on top 40 radio. Many who had dubbed me the murderer of the genre were quick to apologize. Because of my mass appeal, my fans and even my detractors followed my career, and when they heard "Wake Up", I had a legion of new fans. Certain fans were turned off by the style, but they were small in number. It was clear that I could never return to the life of a normal teenage girl, even if I tried. I wouldn't be able to get a part-time job at a fast food restaurant or work in grocery store with Ethan behind a meat counter. I understood that my life was going to be spent in the public eye, and while I mourned the permanent loss of my privacy, a part of me craved the attention- the adulation. I was thankful that I could speak my mind without a script, and that my fans and people in general could see that I was actually a smart girl. I knew that I didn't want to return to being a pop princess, but I couldn't return to high school either. So I did the only thing that made sense, I reformed my old band. At first only Andrew and Ethan joined, but as word got out (OK, I guess I was still pretty addicted to Twitter, I might have told my 75 million followers that I was jamming again), the labels started calling, despite the fact we didn't have a drummer. While I could have signed with a smaller independent label in order to keep a smaller profile, in order to do what I envisioned, indie wouldn't work. Without a drummer, I signed with Geffen, and unlike most record label contracts, because I was such a massive property, I was actually paid. Geffen paid me 100 million dollars just to sign me. It was hard not to get a swelled head knowing that I didn't even really have a band and a label wanted to just throw money at me, but thankfully- Ethan and Andrew kept me grounded. Geffen wanted us to enter the studio as soon as possible, and while the three of us had managed to crank out some excellent music, it was still missing something. We had jammed with other drummers, but it just wasn't the same. We couldn't emulate the chemistry that we had with Steven that gave "Eyes Wide Open" its unique sound. I knew what I had to do. "Look, I know you think I'm some kind of major sellout or a pop monster or whatever, but we really need you. It's not the same band without you." I stood outside Steven's door. He hadn't even invited me inside. This didn't bode well. Steven stepped outside and sat next to me on the stoop. "Abby, I don't really think those things about you. I know about the Prophecy." I frowned, "Then why were you so mean to me on Facebook and Twitter when I asked you about reforming the band initially?" Steven shrugged, "I thought it was a publicity stunt or something. You were like a completely different person. I didn't want to help you fulfil the Prophecy or something." I replied sadly, "Well the Prophecy was fulfilled like six months ago." Steven nodded, "Yeah, I know that now." I asked, "Well if you know that now, why have you been ignoring my texts?" Steven said, "I know what you want, and I can't do it. It's just too busy here with the kids and my wife going back to work. I'm a stay-at- home dad now. I can't go out on the road. I've got too many responsibilities." Despite Steven's news, I smirked, "And here I thought I was going to have trouble convincing Andrew. We always said that if we were given the chance to really make it, that we would jump at the opportunity. This is a huge opportunity. You know because of me we aren't going to be playing in any backwater dives, right?" Steven smiled bitterly, "Good to see you still think so highly of yourself. And look, I know this is a big opportunity, but I can't leave. My wife's got a really good opportunity here in town. And what about the kids? She's working full time." I said, "I have a plan. Everything will work out. I talked to Laura. You remember that she wanted to start that daycare, right? Well, while we record the album, the kids can stay there during the day. We will record it here in town. You can be home every night. I promise." Steven's features softened. He seemed to mull my words, turning away momentarily and staring off into space. "And what about when we are on tour? What then? I mean there's no way that I can leave the kids for six months with Laura." I grinned, "You don't have to. They can come with us. All of them. I've already talked to Laura about this. It'll be like a remote daycare. Chloe will be there, and Andrew's son." Steven was unconvinced, "And what about my wife? She's going to stay here all alone for six months?" I said, "Well she's the one who designed our t-shirts, right? She's really got an eye for fashion. I figure why not give her that as a full-time job. She can make our merch, and since she's got years of retail experience, she can handle the booths at shows. What do you think?" Steven stared at me with a mixture of surprise and revere, "I mean if she agrees, then I'm in, but- it's just hard to think that this will all work. And what about Ethan, his parents, and school. You too there. What are you going to do about that?" I nodded, "Martin's agreed to take a leave of absence from St. Jo's. He's going to tutor me, Alyssa and Ethan, so we don't fall behind." Steven raised a brow, "Wait, why would Alyssa come? And what about her parents? Aren't they going to miss her?" I said, "Of course they'll miss her. And Ethan's too. I'm making it so anyone can fly home when they want- I mean as long as we don't have a show that night or whatever. I'm going to do the tour schedule in a way that gives some down time. It means we are on the road longer, but there's more opportunities to go home. I got really homesick when I was on my world tour. There was too much going on- I never had time to fly home. There were talk shows, appearances, and concerts. I'm going to try and do things differently." Steven nodded, "You still haven't told me why Alyssa is coming." I grinned, "She's going to design my outfits. Do my hair and makeup and stuff." Steven laughed, "Oh. Of course. Silly me for asking." He grew more serious, "I'm hearing a lot of 'I' in this, Abby. Are you the one who is going to be making all the decisions, like we are just your band, is that it?" I shook my head, "No, you guys are my friends. You guys will definitely have a say in what happens in the band, including song choice, album- all that stuff. And the business. I mean I know you are really good with the business side. But, you've gotta know that I signed the contract, Geffen wanted me, but I want you guys. Are you OK with that?" I knew that in interviews that I would likely be the person who received the most questions. I was the front woman, but I had also been the biggest pop star in the world- I would garner a great deal of attention. Steven nodded his head slowly, "OK, I'll talk to Christine." A smile gradually crept onto his face until it turned into a broad boyish grin. "When are we jamming next?" My mind returned to the present. The song finished and the crowd roared. I looked out at those who filled the seats in front of me- it was an eclectic mix- from pre-teen to middle age. Truth be told, I had likely lost some of my younger fans, girls like Tawny, but I had gained in the older demographic. Most seven and eight year old girls didn't like moody, angry music, even if some of it was danceable. I found the composition of the crowd fascinating- ageing rockers mingling with screaming school girls, and all of them enjoying themselves. Some of the girls screamed incessantly, acting like they would at a pop princess or boy band performance. At the same time, mosh pits formed in front of me on the stadium floor. We finished the set to raucous applause, completing two encores. Mr. Atwater congratulated us as we stepped off the stage, "Great show. It's called that right? I thought they were called gigs." I couldn't believe how old Mr. Atwater looked and sounded. Anyone over thirty looked pretty old to me, even Andrew and Steven, who could be very immature at times. Mr. Atwater, who was pushing fifty, looked ancient. Ethan and I shared knowing grins, and I replied to Mr. Atwater, "Yes. That's right." He said, "And those pit things. Those look like a lot of fun. Abigail, what was that thing you did toward the end there?" Again, Ethan and I shared knowing smiles. We held hands as we moved into the backstage area. I turned back to Mr. Atwater, "Mosh pits. And the other thing is called crowd surfing." Mr. Atwater smiled, "I think I'd like to try that one day." Ethan laughed, "They would drop your ass if you tried it." Mr. Atwater frowned, "Why? I'm hip. I'm your tour manager. People know that, right? Oh, maybe I should get a tour jacket. Like those Hard Rock Caf? jackets. I'll get one with my name on the back. Oh, and it could say EYES WIDE OPEN- OFFICIAL TOUR MANAGER. It'll be really sick." I sighed gently, "I still think people would drop you if you jumped into the crowd. You could get hurt. One guy I knew got dropped on his head. Mr. Atwater said, "And how come they didn't drop you, Abigail?" I looked at Mr. Atwater as I struggled with my words, trying to explain to him that he was simply too old and far too male to crowd surf safely. Steven interrupted my train of thought, "Cuz, dat ass. Yo." He made exaggerated hand gestures as he spoke, trying to look like a rapper, but he failed, coming off whiter than arctic Vanilla Ice. Ethan glared at Steven, "Dude, you're talking about my girlfriend." I put my hand to my forehead, sighing heavily, "You're all so- so lame." Mr. Atwater enquired, "So you think the tour jacket idea is lame? Elvis Presley didn't think so." Ethan raised a brow, "Dude, my grandma likes Elvis. You knew Elvis Presley? How is that even possible? Didn't he die or something? So how old are you like, seventy something?" Andrew, who had been quiet throughout the conversation, chimed in, "Ethan, that's kind of rude." Ethan smirked, "OK D-ad. But seriously, how did this dude know Elvis? My grandma talks about him all the time. He was popular in the fifties." I said, "Uh, well I guess he just looks really young for his age. Philip, can I speak to you, privately?" Mr. Atwater and I went into my dressing room. I quickly shut the door. I glared at him, "You need to be more careful. Ethan and Alyssa don't know what happened to me. Stop talking about the old victims of the Prophecy like you knew them. I mean Britney and Michael are fine, but Elvis- freaking- Presley? The last thing I need is for Ethan to find out that I'm a freak." Mr. Atwater said, "That boy loves you, Abigail. Even if you told him the truth, I think he'd look past it." I said, "There's no point in telling him. I'm trying to start a new life here. I've accepted that I'm going to be Abigail for the rest of my life. I don't need my boyfriend finding out that he and I used to share the same anatomy." I raised a brow, "Wait a second, if you are the pop culture expert, who has apparently been watching it all since at least the 1950s, how is it that you missed the grunge fad? You know where trendy boutiques sold lumberjack wear? You should know about mosh pits and crowd surfing." Mr. Atwater said sheepishly, "I-I was too busy following the Achy- Breaky-Heart. I really thought it was going to be big." I giggled and then laughed uncontrollably for nearly ten seconds. Mr. Atwater looked at me sternly until I stopped. He cleared his throat, "You know that a lot of the angry, riot-inducing music of the 90s was not exactly in line with a Prophecy that seeks to keep people in a fog. It makes a lot of sense why a grunge band wasn't chosen to fulfil the Prophecy." I giggled, "Really? And it had nothing to do with how you look in cowboy boots? Did you wear a Stetson, pilgrim?" Mr. Atwater glared at me, "I was right about Britney though. I knew that the Prophecy would choose her." He softened, "We spoke yesterday. She's almost in performance shape again. The doctors are telling her to take it easy, but you know how she is." I nodded, "Yeah, probably dying to get back out there. Good for her. I got a message from her when "Wake Up" was released." I beamed. "She said she was really proud of me." Mr. Atwater nodded, "It took a lot of courage on your part to do that, especially with what Sandra did to you. I know I've told you this before, but I'm so sorry- you know for what happened to you. But I'm glad you kept fighting, even though it was literally torture for you sometimes." I said, "I just hope that all the work we are doing- that we can defeat the Prophecy. "Wake Up" was a massive success. The song must have eclipsed my old popularity. But how will we know if the Prophecy's influence has been removed? I mean it's been four months since the song was released. Shouldn't the world be better now? Those same stupid shows are on though. And Kharma- her song is number two. Still behind mine of course." I muttered, "Bitch." Mr. Atwater said, "I don't know really. What you've done is unprecedented. It may take a while to really see the effects though. And I still think people are going to have a choice." I frowned, "What do you mean? I thought it would be easier than that. I mean Am?lie saw the effects of the Prophecy really clearly." Mr. Atwater nodded, "Right, but those mechanisms have been there to control humanity for as long as civilization itself. It may take a while for people to begin to see through the fog, and for some of them, they might just return to it." I growled, "Then what was the point of all this then? And the curses? Just so people can go back to filling their minds with garbage? This sucks!" I stomped my foot. Mr. Atwater said, "Yes, but even without the distractions, those individuals will amount to nothing beyond the toil of their lives. And I am speaking of all sorts, doctors, lawyers, non-professionals. There will be a select few that will leave the fog and actually tear away the veil of distraction. They will influence others to think and to act different, and eventually even those most entrenched in the fog might escape from it." I said impatiently, "But how can we be sure any of that will happen?" Mr. Atwater said, "We can't." *** "No! No! Please, just leave me alone! It's so cold...no please!!" I shook Alyssa awake. We shared the same room. It was one of Am?lie's stipulations for the tour. She managed to regain her status as my guardian, which wasn't too difficult since Lauren had literally disappeared. I assumed that Sandra was grooming her as the replacement associate, or maybe she got hit by a bus. I didn't care. Either way, Judge Richter, believed that Am?lie was the only one who could control me. In comparing my diva-like behaviour in Hollywood, and my subsequent change under Am?lie's roof, the magistrate heralded Am?lie as a sobering influence on me. According to him, Am?lie would keep me grounded. Thankfully, none of the adults in my life, or even Judge Richter himself, tried to push me back into my former life as a high school student. I had been seen by a global audience of one billion- there was no going back, but if I was to remain humble, there had to be rules. That meant Ethan wasn't allowed to sleep over. Alyssa and I would always share hotel rooms, buses, planes- and while I loved Alyssa like a sister, she wasn't my boyfriend. I accepted the arrangement begrudgingly, knowing that I braved a slippery slope toward divadom again. Ethan hated Abeille, so I swore to myself that she would not make a reappearance. Sharing a room with Alyssa was an interesting experience. Every night was like a sleepover with her. We gossiped, did each other's hair and nails, danced and had the occasional pig-out. We had become best friends again, and I loved it. Compared to my girls, or rather the fragments of my ego that had once ruled my mind with incessant compliments and flattery, Alyssa was a living, breathing sincerity who told me when I was being an unreasonable bitch. She had come so far from the timid girl in Chloe's dance class who desperately wanted my friendship. However, the mirth that was in her eyes during our initial BFF period had faded. There was a hardness to her now, a cynical part to her, like when she joked about marrying her therapist, because at least she could get free medical care. The nightmares had robbed the girl of her innocence, yet they filled her mind with a childlike fear. Something so primal, that as I shook her awake, I thought she was possessed. Her eyes shot open and widened to near impossible proportions. Her hands gripped her comforter, nails digging into the soft fabric to the point where I knew if the material hadn't been there, the girl would have drawn blood many times over. "Shh. Shh. Calm down. It's OK, Alyssa." I reached out and gently pet the girl's head. She sat in the bed like a frightened animal, her eyes darting back and forth in terror. "You've done really great lately. Isn't this the first one in about two weeks?" She nodded her head sadly, "Yeah. But I thought like they were done now. This is the longest I've gone, but it's like a punch in the face when you aren't expecting it. It hurts so much." She looked at me pathetically, "I'm so sorry, Abby. I know like you've got a big show tomorrow. I'm so annoying. I don't know why Am?lie wants me to share a room with you." I said softly, "You're not annoying at all. I love our nightly sleepovers. And I'm used to your nightmares. I just want to help you. I'm glad that the treatment seems to be working." Alyssa was unconvinced, "No way. It's really important that you like get sleep and stuff. I can't be screaming like a crazy baby and keeping you up. Besides, I don't even know why I'm here. You won't even let me do your hair and makeup for the shows." For a moment, I thought I heard a distinct *clack* *clack* *clack*. High-heels on hardwood. I said quickly, "I'll let you do it. I'm sorry. Tomorrow night, you've got the job." Alyssa said, "I-I really miss my mom. When I have a nightmare, she makes me this like tea thing. It's just- nice, you know? Maybe I should just go home. I'm so much trouble." I shook my head, "I'll just fly her here. What's your mom do in the office? She can just do it here. I'll pay her and everything." Alyssa frowned, "It's not the same, Abby. And that's too much. There's no way my mom would agree to that. And you sound like a crazy celebrity who like gives jobs to everyone she knows." She continued, "The only reason she said yes is because she knows M. St-Valentin is a great teacher, and it's a really good chance for me. But you want pro hair and makeup people. You keep using them. I'm not insulted or whatever, it's like- I know they are better than me. I'm just a stupid kid." I shook my head vigorously, "You are really good, Alyssa. I promise you that tomorrow night you can do it." Alyssa replied- clearly defeated, "Look you don't have to lie to me. Plus I'm so much trouble for you. What if I start having nightmares every night again? You'll get sick, your singing will suck, and it will be my fault." I frowned, "Don't forget that I'm the one who did this to you. I'm responsible for everything that's happened to you." Alyssa shook her head, "Come on, Abby, you couldn't have known that you would piss off that ghost or whatever. Or what would happen after that. You said that Am?lie did the same thing lots of times with Laura. They only had a mean ghost come one time. The room got colder, but that's it for them. We were just unlucky because our ghost was the worst." I sighed heavily, watching my best friend's shoulders slump and her eyes dip gently. The girl was exhausted, and even though her nightmares were less frequent, I still felt fully responsible. Not only that, but Alyssa and I basically told each other everything, and yet there was still one secret that I kept from her. The guilt often gnawed at me, like a brood of maggots feasting their way out the bloated belly of a fresh carcass fallen to a myiasis infestation. The words tried to escape to the surface, to dance on my tongue, and at times they succeeded, but they never reached my lips. Alyssa said, "I sometimes think that it never happened. One of the doctors I saw, he said that I made it all up. That I use it as "a coping mechanism to remain within a child-like state brought on by the separation of my parents." That it explains why I'm so bad at school and why I dress this way, and why no one really likes me because I'm so immature and-" I interrupted Alyssa brusquely, "Okay. First of all, that doctor is an asshole. You're an amazing girl. The way you dress and talk, how you act- it's why I love you, Ally. You're so full of life and energy. The way you are so amazing with Chloe and the other kids here. Don't let a stupid doctor tell you that you need to grow up. We're like seventeen. There's lots of time for us to wear ugly pants suits and carry briefcases. Oh, and have mom hair." A little grin appeared on Alyssa's face, "Abby, you'll have this like short, spiky hair, and have this little pixie cut. And we can wear our pants up to our armpits." We giggled and said in unison, "Mom jeans!" To be fair, Am?lie was a mom, and she still dressed with at least a modicum of style, but we were being silly. Alyssa asked, "Do you think we'll still be friends when we're old? You know like thirty?" I nodded, "Definitely. You know that Am?lie and Laura have been friends since like second grade, right?" Alyssa nodded enthusiastically, "I love helping Laura with the kids. I think if I don't become a famous makeup person then I would totally be a teacher or work in a daycare or something." I said matter-of-factly, "You'll need to finish school for that. Go to college probably." Alyssa leaned over and put her hand on my jaw, she opened it wide and said, "Hello? Hello, M. St-Valentin? Are you in there? Did you taste like boring teacher when Abby ate you?" I pulled away from her with a glare. "It's true you know." Alyssa said, "Come on, Abby- we were having fun. What about that stuff you said about not growing up?" I nodded, "You still need to prepare for the future. We can act like that, but you've gotta know what you wanna do. Or at least have an idea." Alyssa threw a pillow at me, "OMG, Abby, now you sound like my mom!" The pillow hit me square in the face. I threw it back, but it sailed over Alyssa's shoulder. Alyssa stuck her tongue out at me and said, "You suck, Abby. Come on, let's have an Instant Star marathon." I shook my head, "I really need to get back to sleep. What about that stuff you said about me being sick if I didn't get enough sleep?" Alyssa replied with a wide grin, "I was just feeling all emo. You know me, I'm never serious!" I raised a brow, "Are you sure? I mean if you want to talk about it, I can listen. I remember a lot from that night. It might help." Alyssa said, "It's not a big deal. I'll get over it." I frowned, "I can tell there's something more. I know you, Ally. Let me help. It's my fault." Alyssa sighed and then replied with a frown, "I keep telling you it's not. Anyway, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. It's like impossible. All the doctors I've seen, they say it was "fear-induced psychosis". Like I was so scared, I was seeing stuff that wasn't real." I put a hand on Alyssa's thigh and said gently, "What if I told you that it was real?" Alyssa narrowed her eyes, "What, that I saw my best friend get turned into a man? Stop screwing around, Abby." I said, "Maybe part of the reason you keep having the nightmares is because your brain knows what you saw, but you refuse to accept it. It's like you are trying to rewrite your memory, but you know deep down what the truth really is." Alyssa glared at me, "This isn't helping, Abby! Y-You're freaking me out! I-I don't believe it. I can't believe it. Because if I do, then it means I'm basically crazy. Just- please stop it!" She was shaking. I said softly, getting into the bed next to Alyssa and putting an arm around her shaking form. "What if I said I believed you?" Alyssa said weakly, "Then I'd say you're crazy." I replied, "I knew exactly what I was doing that night. I wasn't calling a ghost to talk to them or anything, Alyssa. I was calling them to perform a ritual- a spell. To get my body back. Think about everything we've been through. All the times you've called me a teacher or all the stuff I did to help you study. Stuff that a girl my age wouldn't know." Alyssa shook her head in continued disbelief, "You said it was because of Darren. That he told you all that stuff because he was a teacher." I said simply, "And how Chloe, you know how she started calling me, daddy? Didn't you think that was a little bit weird?" Alyssa replied, "I thought it was cute. You know because she missed her daddy. You were like her replacement cause you played like a boy with her. Rough and stuff." She hardened, "Why are you telling me this stuff, Abby? Do you want me feel like I'm going crazy? You really think I'm going to believe that you were a boy? Not only a boy- but a grown up man." She said flatly, "You're more of a girl than I am sometimes. There's no way you were ever a guy." I frowned deeply, "Sorry, I was just joking." She was right. There wasn't even a fraction of Darren Lawrence left in me. Was I destined to become Abeille again? *Clack*. *Clack*. *Clack*. Alyssa looked at me crossly, "That was mean, Abby. You took something I've never told anyone but doctors in private rooms, and you make this big story about it. Why'd you do it? I thought we were friends. I mean- I never say anything about your weight or anything. Like even when there's pictures of you that make you look fat. I still support you." I sighed and hung my head, "I'm really sorry, Alyssa. I-I was being dumb. It was just a big dumb joke. I'm sure the doctors are right. You were probably just seeing things because you were really scared. Can you please forgive me?" Alyssa looked at me seriously. She said, "You promise I can do your hair and makeup tomorrow? And as long as you like it, you go with it, OK?" She added, "Even if the guys say it looks stupid. Deal?" I nodded slowly, "Alyssa, I was going to let you do it either way." Alyssa replied, "Sure, Abby. I know." *** "Are you really surprised that she didn't believe you?" My father's image was displayed on my laptop. My mother sat next to him, concern painted on her face. It was the next day, and I had put in a desperate Skype call to my parents. I whined, "Well maybe, I guess. I don't really know anymore. I mean I told Martin, and he believed me." My father said, "From the way you explained it, you didn't really push to try and explain it to Alyssa. You gave up easily. That's not like you, Darren." My father and mother were the only ones on the planet that still called me Darren, and only in private. Alyssa wasn't in the room. It was the afternoon, and she was redoing a chemistry experiment with Martin. Despite the fact that she had missed less school than I had, she was still playing catch up. My absence in Hollywood had removed a great deal of the drive she had to succeed in school, especially when, like Ethan, she thought any day she could be called to join me on tour. I said firmly, "But I told her the truth. I said basically what happened to me. I didn't tell her about the Prophecy, but I said what I was trying to do with the spell." My voice weakened, "I just...she was freaking out. I couldn't tell her more. She said if she believed it then she was crazy." My mother asked, "Darren, did you tell her because you were feeling guilty for what you did, or because you actually wanted to help her?" I sighed gently, "I was feeling really bad. I can see how it's affected her. How she's changed because of it. And it is all my fault, but I guess- I guess it was because I was feeling guilty." My father said, "I don't think Alyssa will ever believe you. And it's probably best that you don't go against the doctors who are trying to help her. They seem to be conditioning her to treat what she saw as psychosis." I said, "But I feel really bad." My father shook his head, "It's not how you feel. It's for her. Besides, you don't really have any proof. You can't show her the magic associated with your nails or your hair, and Alyssa never knew you as Darren, so she has nothing to compare your behaviour to." My mother said, "Remember that I didn't even believe you at first. I'm so sorry for what I put you through in those first few weeks, but it took your stories, things that only Darren Lawrence would know to convince me. Alyssa doesn't have those stories. She's only ever known you as Abigail." I said angrily, "And what about Ethan? So I'm going to lie to him too- for the rest of my life?" My father said softly, "You could tell him, but I don't think he'd believe you either." I shook my head, "This isn't fair though! There has to be a way. So what, every Christmas I have to lie to Ethan and say that I'm Am?lie's sister? You guys are my real parents!" My mother replied, "You're very lucky that Am?lie's parents are such wonderful people. They've accepted you into their family twice now, the second time under very difficult circumstances." I narrowed my eyes, "So what? They aren't my parents. You can't tell me that you accept this? That my best friend and my boyfriend aren't going to know you're my real parents? Besides, it doesn't even make sense that they are my parents. There's no record of my birth. And they live in such a small town, how could they hide another daughter like that?" My father smiled, "You know if your music career doesn't work out, you really should go to law school." I glared at my father, "Cut the bullshit, Dad. You guys just don't want anything to do with me. You're embarrassed to have a freak for a daughter. Just admit it." My mother shook her head sadly, on the brink of tears. My father said firmly, "No. If you recall, we were very upset when your last name turned out to be Grenier. We felt like you had been stolen from us, but we've accepted that this is the way it needs to be. The world knows you this way now. You would just make it difficult for yourself. And as for your questions, the Greniers could have easily adopted you. Yes, there are holes, like your schooling, but you could have been homeschooled. And the small town thing, yes that's still a large hole. But maybe the Greniers adopted you as a teenager after their girls left, and seeing how bright you were thought you would do better living in the city with your adoptive sister where there were more opportunities. That could explain why they allowed you to leave more easily because you weren't their real daughter." I sighed, "OK. OK. You have a point, but I'm just tired of lying to everyone. And I hate the fact that I can't call you my parents. And I feel like if I lose you, I'll lose any part of Darren Lawrence that's left in me." My father replied, "They'll always be a part of you that's Darren. You've got his spirit and his drive. You're smart like him, and stubborn like him. And we'll always be your parents, no matter what. Nothing changes that. We may not be able to vocalize it depending on the company but, we are. We just don't want to make things harder than they need to be." He added, "Why are you so worried about this all of a sudden?" I could feel fear bubbling to the surface and in my head, the sound of high heels on hardwood. "I-I'm worried that I'm going to become Abeille again. Like, if I can't be Darren, or at least have people believe I was him, then I'm scared that I'm on this road to being her again. To being this bitch that everyone hates. And it'll ruin everything with Ethan and the band, and I'll be like this hollow thing that expects compliments for wiping her ass." I said with conviction, "I never want to be her again." My father said, "You won't be as long as you remember what Darren stood for. Live Abigail's life as Darren would want and you'll always carry him with you." I smiled gently, tears beginning to brim at my eyes, "T-Thanks, Dad." My father replied, "You're welcome, Darren." I cleared my throat softly, "Um. Can you- can you guys call me Abigail? It's just- it feels a bit weird." My parents nodded. I said, "Thanks again, I love you guys." My mother said, "We love you too." *** The tour continued, winding its way through the eastern United States. There was an electricity in the air every night. Not every show was sold out, and while that fact inserted itself within my mind, clawing at my self-doubt, I was still living my dream. I was making music that I cared about, and millions of people were listening to my message. I asked Am?lie to track the trends, as she had done when the Prophecy was nearing the point of fulfilment. She reported back the ratings had dropped on many of the most mind-numbing, fog-inducing television shows. Website hits were down for hundreds of celebrity gossip sites. Still, they existed, and people continued to watch and obsess about the cult of celebrity. Worldwide, there was an impact, but it was difficult to see exactly how my words reached the people who affected change, except in a few high-profile cases. One case in particular where my words were listed as a catalyst to change involved a teenage girl in Russia. She started as a video blogger, describing her life in what was supposed to be a country with a democratically elected president. The girl stated simply that Russia had fallen to political absolutism again. With its democracy in infancy, Russia was rife for corruption. The girl reiterated this in many videos, denouncing the Russian president for essentially stealing the recent election. The young woman was interviewed and cited "Wake Up" as one of her influences. It was one of the main reasons why she had decided to speak out against the government. She was jailed for her beliefs, but this simply brought even more international attention. I decided to hold a benefit concert for her in order to raise money for her legal fees, and the concert managed to raise over four million dollars for one night of work. The money helped to hire talented and expensive lawyers who could deal with the Soviet- style intimidation tactics from the state lawyers. Eventually, the charges were dropped. I was elated because the teenage girl's crusade put other supposedly democratic countries under the microscope, including Canada, who was dealing with its own British parliamentary style dictatorship. Something I had sung had actually changed the world, seemingly for the better. Would others follow the young woman from Russia in denouncing those who dwelled within the white towers? The night after she was released, I returned to the hotel room I shared with Alyssa. Her nightmares had lessened, erupting once every two or three weeks. I flew a doctor in to treat her on a weekly basis, so she wouldn't fall behind in her treatment. I threw my purse on the table as I entered the room, surprised to see Alyssa was in bed already. After three straight days of shows, we had a much needed day off tomorrow, and that usually meant an Instant Star marathon with a big bowl of caramel popcorn. I flicked the lights on, and realized that not only was Alyssa completely under the covers, she was under the covers in my bed. I said with a smirk, "Hey, wake up sleepyhead. Aren't we going to get our Jude on?" I pulled my top over my head, exposing my boobs, which were supported in a too-tight bra, and then I started to shimmy out of my jeans, which were also a little tight. Being on the road, eating out at least once a day was playing havoc with my waistline. I was creeping back to the same weight I was when the tabloid press were tearing me apart on a daily basis. As I studied the contours of the shape within the bed, I noticed that while it was angular, like Alyssa's body, it was much longer. Suddenly, the figure in the bed shot up. I instinctively moved to cover my chest as I feared either a stalker or a paparazzi was aiming to take some half-naked pictures of me. The fear fled as I saw Ethan's massive grin. "Surprise." I shouted, "You asshole! You scared the hell out of me!" My arms crossed and moved down to rest below my chest. I cocked my hip out to the side slightly and narrowed my eyes at the boy. Ethan said, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, "Wow, you've totally got that pissed off girl look down, Abby." I said brusquely, "Where's Alyssa? You're not even supposed to be in here. You'll get us in trouble." Ethan looked at me with disappointment. His eyes drooped, and his bottom lip stuck out gently, "Come on, Abby. I was trying to be romantic. I saw you looking at Martin and your sister. I wanted to do something like Martin did." I frowned, "Martin surprised Am?lie with a dozen roses on the anniversary of their first date. I thought- you- were a rapist or someone trying to get a pic. There's a difference." Ethan sighed, "Abby, I was just trying to do something nice. Alyssa's staying in my room tonight. And I said I had to puke to the others, so I doubt they are going to come and check on me." I smirked, the hilarity of the situation beginning to dawn on me, "Lovely. Well, Am?lie won't come and check on you, but Laura might. She likes playing nursemaid." Ethan said, with clear frustration in his voice, "We get to spend all this time together, but we- we never get any time alone. Don't you find it sucks?" He continued, "I mean- we can't even sneak away like we used to because then there's cameras that follow you. Or some fan that wants an autograph. Or some dude that wants to stare at your ass. Or boobs." I said, "Fair enough. You're right about that. I really thought we would get more time alone, but they watch us pretty closely. Still, I mean I like what we do- I just-" Ethan blurted out, "Don't you wanna do it, Abby? We've got time now. Like ten minutes. You're probably right about Laura. I just can't stand it anymore, you're so freaking hot, and when you like peeled yourself out of those jeans, I was like losing it. And you're boobs were all jiggling." I smirked, "Don't go in your pants now, like last time. Calm down, boy. You're panting over there." Ethan's face reddened, "Come on, be serious, Abby. You want to do it, right? I mean we've come close lots of times, but you always seem, well I don't know- are you scared? It just seems like you make these excuses. You like me, right?" I nodded my head vigorously, "More than that. And yeah, I guess I'm a bit scared. It's a big step." Ethan said, "Ryan had sex when he was like fourteen. And you seem to want to do it. What's wrong? I mean when you were in Hollywood, I kind of thought- you were with a lot of guys and ..." I regarded Ethan angrily. The boy withered under my gaze, his eyes dropping to the floor and his shoulders slumping. He muttered, "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that." "How did you mean it? You were saying I slept with a bunch of guys. I told you that I didn't. I went out with most of those guys because I had to. It was promotional, like they were in my video or I was going to be on a TV show with them or something." There was metal to my words, spears that were meant to puncture the boy's heart. Ethan frowned deeply, his eyes never leaving the floor. "I'm really sorry. Maybe I should just go." I shook my head slowly, "No. It's OK. I really haven't been honest with you. You're right. I do make excuses. I'm just scared that if we do, you know, it'll change things. Or things will be weird." A little smile appeared on Ethan's face, "Then we just deal with it. You want to do it, right?" I nodded eagerly, and he continued, "Well let's just try, and if it's weird or whatever, we can just stop." I felt my cheeks redden slightly as I sat down on the bed, still clad in only my bra and panties. Ethan moved toward the door, locked it, and then joined me on the bed, wearing a massive smile. Soft love handles peeked over my panties, and the flab on my tummy clung to the waistband, as if desperately trying not to tumble over and form a distinctive belly roll. I felt self-conscious as Ethan approached me, again feeling like a massive hypocrite for speaking out against quick- fix diets, and yet, desperately wanting to lose weight. Weight Watchers had approached me with what amounted to a pile of money to be their spokesperson for a new teen diet program, but I had turned them down. However, in that moment, as Ethan put his hands on my waist, giving me an instant moment of self-doubt, I wished that I had accepted the previous offer, especially before going on tour. Sandra's final punishment had left an indelible mark in my brain. My feeding at the hands of monstrously obese clowns had spurred the fear within, the horror that I could be as large as I was in the nightmare scape. Within those torturous moments, where the mashed food travelled down my throat, I gained a lifetime worth of self-doubt and self- loathing with regard to my body. I turned my body slightly, in aversion to being touched, and Ethan frowned, "What's wrong?" I said, "You like fat, don't you? You're not a freak or anything. Some guys like girls with more to them, you know?" I added, "It's perfectly normal." Ethan shook his head, "I don't think of it like that. I-I just- well I like you, how you act, and that little thing you do when you're thinking really hard. You know with your eyes. I love how you like hockey and cool stuff, but that you can be girly too. You're like sick talented too." He smiled, "And I think you're really, really hot." I said, "But when we were in Toronto you were barely touching me." Ethan nodded, "Because you were being a bitch to me. Maybe some guys like that, but I don't." He leaned over, slipped his hand around my waist again and squeezed. It was hard to believe that he didn't like fat girls, because I felt like a whale, but maybe he just hadn't realized it yet. Or maybe, he was telling the truth? He gently lay me down on the bed, and within seconds, his lips were on mine. It took a moment for me to kiss him back, but as I felt his hard body press down into my softness and little goose bumps rising on my skin, I leaned into the kiss and wrapped my arms around Ethan's neck. A few minutes later, his hand moved to my bra, and he began fumbling with the hooks. I broke the kiss and giggled, "I guess you haven't been practicing. You know it's a lot easier with two hands? Try the other one, you know, the hand you have on my ass?" Ethan smirked and used both hands, one to steady the hook, and the other to unlatch the bra. My breasts, which were no longer modest, tumbled out of the bra, which had strained to support them. Ethan moved to my boobs like lightning, his hands kneading the flesh, squeezing the orbs and tweaking the nipples, causing me to emit tiny gasps. I grinned, "OK, admit it. You missed my boobs." Ethan grinned and then lowered his mouth over my left nipple, he sucked it a bit, which felt incredible, and then he bit it, which caused me to yelp in pain. His mouth immediately left, and he looked at me with his puppy-dog eyes. I said, "Not so hard. And how'd you know all that stuff? Before you used to just paw my boobs." Ethan blushed slightly and said, "Uh. It's well- with Ryan. We were watching this porn. I didn't really want to, but he's like check this out or whatever. It was this girl doing it to herself and she was ..." I laughed, "Hey, I should thank her, and I don't care if you watch porn. You're like seventeen. Anyway, just a little softer, but you were doing well. Oh, and take that off." I motioned to his shirt, and the boy complied, revealing his musculature. I traced my nail down his firm side, gripped his arms, as his mouth descended again on one of my nipples. Despite my demand that my boyfriend get half-naked, Ethan was firmly in the driver's seat. His confidence had grown, and that meant he acted more adventurous, even straying (at times) from my boobs and moving to my soft, pliable thighs, tickling and teasing was lay between them. Ethan's touch was charged, causing a pleasant buzzing in my head, and through his ministrations, my body responded, my hips beginning to buck gently as Ethan ground his crotch into my own. It was clear that my body was ready for my virginity to be taken, and yet, doubt still existed in my head. I wasn't really frightened what the event would do to my relationship with Ethan, but more concerned at what it would do to my sometimes fragile psyche. It was not an insignificant event in a young woman's life, but in the life of someone who hadn't been born into this gender, it was really the end- full submission, complete acceptance. It was easy to say that I would be Abigail forever, but to join thousands of other girls my age in this singular act, it meant that I was one of them, now and forever. Like a monthly visitor, pregnancy- it was something that no man could ever experience, being pierced and taken. Would I like it? Would I like it too much, to the point where I craved it, becoming like the woman in the video that Ethan watched with Ryan? Despite my father's words, I feared that it would waken Abeille once again, and that the careful balance between Darren Lawrence and my diva alter-ego would be destroyed. But...how was that even possible? My mind flitted back and forth, and a conscious fear that having sex with Ethan would change our relationship manifested. Perhaps he would become obsessed with the act, falling into a pattern where he would ask me constantly to repeat the event, and then when I refused, he would force it on me. And then- "Hey! Abby! Are you OK?" Ethan looked down at me with a furrowed brow. Was he frustrated, would he give up again, allowing me to consider again, over and over, the ramifications of the act? He took his hand off my panties, which he had been slowly pulling down. A tiny smile appeared on his face, "You're doing that thing. With your eyes. What's wrong?" I looked at Ethan sheepishly, "Um. I was just thinking." Ethan smirked, "No kidding. What about?" I replied, "Uh. Well you wouldn't really understand. It's girl's stuff." Ethan asked, "You want me to use a condom? You're still on the pill though, right?" I ignored his question, asking worriedly, "Do you think this will change us? Like make us different? What if it's bad?" Ethan said, "Abby, what's going on in your head? You are complicating stuff. Can't you just enjoy something without like analyzing it? You're like a teacher killing Shakespeare or whatever. I mean I kinda of liked Macbeth, it was really violent. And the story was good, but then- they just make us look into everything, trying to understand all the parts, and I didn't like it anymore." He asked, "Just- try to let it go. You think too much, and I think- it depresses you or something." I blinked in surprise, "Really? Do I seem depressed?" Here, I had everything I wanted, a successful music career, a boy who loved me, and I realized that I still wasn't happy. The Prophecy wasn't defeated, my ever-present body issues, the fact that Am?lie and Martin were going to have a baby together, and my parents, who I could seemingly no longer call my parents. All of this existed at the periphery of my mind, just as job dissatisfaction and wasted youth lingered within the mind of Darren Lawrence. Even though I was Abigail now, I couldn't escape a mindset that would be forever detrimental to my happiness. Ethan nodded, "It's not gonna be perfect. Nothing is. Like you remember our first show? I was like really nervous but I wanted everything to be perfect. And I swear I spent like half the show just watching you. Well I made a lot of mistakes, but I didn't think about it- I just thought I'll be better next time. When I thought about how I played in that first show, and I started to feel bad, or nervous- I just said, it's not gonna be like that." A little smile crept onto my face, "I didn't notice that. Y-You were really looking at me like that?" Ethan nodded, "Yeah. Like I've said before, from the very first time I met you, I was like, this girl. She's special. What about me, how did you feel about me when we first met?" I smirked, "I thought you were cute." For a millisecond, and then I wanted to vomit. Ethan looked proud, a wide boyish grin lined his face. Ethan asked, "So do you like think about stuff you could have done different? You know kind of how I was explaining things with our first show?" I nodded, "Yeah. I guess I really do hold onto the past a lot. I dwell on things. Like I think about what would have happened if I'd never signed that contract with the Sidereus Agency. If I'd been nicer to you, you know when you told me you were interested. If I hadn't been such a bitch in Toronto." Ethan gently brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, "You've gotta start living in the present, Abby. Don't plan your life so much. Just live. Enjoy the moment." He smiled, "I can help you." I looked at the boy curiously as he traced the soft curvature of my tummy with a finger. His finger was only inches away from the waistband of my panties. "As long as you wanna to do this." I nodded earnestly, and the boy carefully pulled my panties down, he shucked off his own boxer briefs, and the two of us were completely naked. I looked down at what he had to offer, and I was pleased that I didn't immediately want to take it into my mouth or that I thought it was some torture device. I didn't want to be one of those girls obsessed with it, but I didn't want to fear it either. Ethan took firm hold of it and started guiding it toward me. The fear I felt previously was gone. I could feel the love radiating from the boy, like the soft heat of a plasma television. I resigned myself to thinking within this moment, not allowing my mind to wander to next year, next month, or even tomorrow. There was a gentle tearing which caused intense, throbbing pain, but soon pleasure, and sudden stars in my eyes. I realized that I had been holding my breath in anticipation, and the lack of oxygen caused me to see little greyish specks. We were missionary. The boy held tightly onto my hips, and by proxy, my tiny love handles, guiding himself in and out. In that moment, it wouldn't have mattered if I tried to think about anything else. I knew I could only think of him, and of the love I felt for him. I wasn't sure how long it would last, but it didn't matter. I pulled him down on me, bringing his hard body down into my soft one, pressing my boobs against his concave chest as I wrapped my arms around him. Eventually, his thrusting started to feel incredible, and I started to become vocal. As a trained scream singer, I was unsurprisingly loud. I felt a fierce blush in my cheeks as I realized just how noisy I was being. I started to feel self-conscious, and the pleasure was dulled, impeded by my fears. God. Does he think I'm weird? Like I'm really loud. I felt like crying and laughing all at the same time. As a guy, I was only loud at the end, but I wasn't even close to release at this point. I buried my face into Ethan's shoulder to stifle myself, but this caused my left leg to start shaking. Now he would definitely think I was a freak. Ethan whispered in my ear, "Don't worry about it, Abby. I-I-....ooh. Ugh. Oh shit. I didn't think- fuuuuuuuuck!" His words descended into a sort of grunting likely only understood by Neanderthals. He made the most ridiculous face as he pumped into me, like one eye was closed, and his mouth, it was so wide- I could have driven my entire fist into it. I couldn't help but giggle. Ethan said, "Shit. I thought I was going to last longer. Come on, Abby. That's not cool." I said with a smirk, "Your face. It was, oh my god. Like this." I tried to emulate it, closing my eye, but I couldn't open my mouth wide enough. Ethan mock-glared at me and said, "Well at least I wasn't trying to call hundreds of dogs into the room with my screaming." We looked at each other, grinned and then kissed. Ethan's hand traversed my backside, gently kneading the fleshy globes of my ass. He said, "Ooh, I forgot about this part. I like this part too." I said, "I think you like every part." Ethan asked, "So if I really can find a costume, like we talked about, you'll wear it?" I nodded, "Yeah, but only for you. No pics on Twitter." Ethan said, "I thought maybe you were joking before about wearing it." I shook my head, "I know you really want to try it. I want to do things like that for you. You know, it's all about satisfaction, right?" Ethan nodded with a grin, "Sickest girl ever. So what do you wanna do next? Aren't we supposed to like smoke cigarettes or something?" I said, "Here's your first tip about girls. When you're done, there's a really good chance they aren't." Ethan blinked, "But your screaming. You were so loud!" I replied sheepishly, "Well apparently, I'm a screamer. Maybe it was because like, it hurt at first, and then it was so good. Like waves crashing down on me, but then sometimes it tickled or hurt depending on the angle. I seriously almost cried. It was so weird." Ethan laughed, "You're such a girl." I grinned, "I know." I positioned Ethan's hand near my clit, but I found that the area was too sensitive. I thought maybe it had something to do with losing my virginity, so we just ended up cuddling. We stared at each other until we laughed, Ethan played with my boobs some, and we just enjoyed what was in my mind, a perfectly genuine moment, despite the imperfection of our lovemaking. Ethan had the most incredible effect on me, and while he had caused me to make foolhardy decisions before, like nearly having sex without protection (I was on the pill now!), he could also act as a conduit to world where I had no worries. I had no thoughts outside of him. He was my wonderful distraction to everything that sought to weigh me down. Like Alyssa, however, I was still lying to him. The boy had been honest with me from the start as he made his feelings known. How could I tell him, and would he even believe me? It seemed like a bizarre moment to confess Abigail's origin to Ethan, but after our lovemaking, I was feeling emotional. I hated the fact that Ethan didn't know my darkest secret. Would it eat away at me? And when would I tell him? When we got married? When I gave birth to triplets? I agonized over the decision, and Ethan, not surprisingly, noticed my concern. "Oh Abby. You worry way more than a girl your age should. Like my mom would say, you are going to give yourself worry lines. She said it to my sister." I sighed, "Look, I have something to tell you. And no- I'm not breaking up with you. So don't worry about that. You should know this, before we go forward. I don't think it's right to keep this from you. And if you think I'm a freak, and you want to break up with me, then I won't blame you. I just can't keep this inside anymore." Ethan looked at me with an uneasy smile, "Calm down, Abby. Just tell me. I can take it." I gathered the covers to hide my nudity, inching away from a very confused looking Ethan. "I'm not really- well I'm not really who I seem. Well I am, it's just I wasn't always Abigail. I know that it's probably impossible for you to believe, but I'm-" Ethan nodded, "You're Darren. Well you used to be." It was my turn to show confusion, but in this case, my mouth hung open to the point where I thought it might become dislocated. It was more disbelief and shock. "H-How...how did you know? How long have you known!? Why didn't you tell me?" Ethan raised his hands, "Woah. Remember you were the one keeping this from me. Let's just say, tonight wasn't the only time I hid in your room to surprise you. The last time you spoke to your parents. I was under your bed. I went in the bed this time cause I guess it was creepy to wait for you under your bed." I blinked, "How much did you hear?" Ethan said, "Everything. I heard them call you Darren. The stuff about Alyssa and the night you tried to get your body back." I asked, "Is that why you were kind of weird for a week after? I remember you were like really odd around me. You didn't want to kiss me. You said you had a cold. So why now, why'd you come back? Now that you know I'm a freak?" Ethan said, "Because I love Abby. And that's who you are. You asked your parents to call you that. I knew you weren't Darren anymore. I just needed some time to put it all together. But like all the stuff you knew about teaching, the law. And how much you tried acting like an adult. And then the Prophecy too, and how much you changed because of it. Then there was the really, really weird stuff that happened with Alexandre. No one would go out with that asshole unless they were under some kind of spell." He smirked. He added, "I can't say I understand everything that happened to you. And-" I interrupted, "Wait, I didn't really talk about the Prophecy with my parents." Ethan replied, "I asked Am?lie about it. She wouldn't tell me anything, telling me I was making up stories. Martin told me later though. Everything that he saw that made him think that the Prophecy was real." I furrowed my brow, "That asshole. He wasn't supposed to say anything." Ethan shook his head, "No, Abby. He's not. He's a pretty good guy actually. And he's the reason I'm here tonight. Before I spoke to him, I thought you were crazy, like you thought you were Darren or something, and Darren's parents were just like agreeing with you so you wouldn't hurt yourself. He told me about the letter he found. And with what I saw and heard, it all made sense." I pulled the covers over my head. "Oh god. I never wanted you to find out. And we just had sex! I'm a freak, Ethan. I never wanted you to know who I really was." Ethan said, "Yeah, i