Second Chances (Reboot) free porn video

Not-The-Original Author's Note: This is a tribute to Alexander Kung's great story "Second Chances". The original ideas and story belong to them. This version was written mostly because the original author never finished that work and I very much enjoyed it (going on five years with no conclusion now) and I wish they had. I've expanded on it where I felt appropriate, maintained the original ideas and motifs as much as I could, and updated it to match my own writing style. I have no idea what the original author intended, but I made an attempt to finish it after completely ingesting the whole thing many times over the years and picking -- what I felt -- was an appropriate ending based on the overall story arc. Author's Note: If this tribute offends anyone, or the original author, I apologize in advance. Chapter One: Driftwood It was a slow day in Felicia Lupescu's curiosity shop, The Relic, a humble little shop nestled right in the middle of the town of Tyson's Cove. Antiques and oddities from all around the world passed through it, from an actual Egyptian mummy (not for sale) to painstakingly transcribed Sumerian texts and everything in between. Rumored magical baubles or legendary artifacts -- it didn't matter, there were no few townspeople that just ate that up. And Felicia turned a tidy profit off the comfortable superstitions and paranormal curiosities that so many seemed blessed with even in this modern age of internet and pocket-sized computers. The woman herself had grown ripe and elegant in her latter years, with turquoise eyes and raven-black hair that saw just the hint of silver and distinction. She owed that to her Roma blood, although she had resisted the temptation to fall into a stereotypical "Madam Inga" type gypsy fortune teller look like in the movies. Despite the curio shop in which she worked. No, she had convinced herself over the years that she had a slightly more exotic Raquel Welch vibe about her. And that suited her personal vanities just fine. Of course, she was far from the most outlandish creature to enter The Relic. She was merely the curator. And she found the more ... peculiar ... that graced her shop with their business to be fascinating company. More fascinating than the staid faces she might see in any other profession, truly. Why, there was even an old man who could never seem to dress himself in anything more than a bathrobe whenever he came around. And, of course, he was one of her best and favorite customers. She made a point of building a rapport with those who were more than just entertaining a passing fancy with the occult or tourists. And that was how she recognized the little shaggy-haired girl with heavy makeup in her tattered leather jacket who was fixating on a silver ring with a gem-cut bloodstone in the corner today. That one was a common enough sight in the store. Almost daily, really, though she spent most of her time just window shopping. Killing time, Felicia had always thought. At first, she had mistaken the girl for another fairweather occultist, but then she just kept coming back again and again. Never to buy anything, though. Just to look. "That's a rather beautiful piece," Felicia commented, coming up to stand behind the younger woman and tapping her long, manicured nails upon the case. "You have a good eye, young lady." The young lady's name was Kelly, and she jumped when Felicia came up behind her, apparently so engrossed in her find that she didn't even hear the telltale click-clack of her heels as they approached. The girl looked up at the older woman, giving her a shaky smile. "Y-yeah. It's beautiful." Felicia opened the case, reaching down gingerly and retrieving the ring, then holding it up so that the girl could inspect it more closely. "You see the craftsmanship here? A master artisan. It's survived nearly a century before making its way here to my shop," she explained with a warm smile to the younger woman. "Were you interested in buying it today?" Kelly looked at the ring for several seconds, but shook her head. "I'm just looking around," she said, her tone going flat and listless. "This'll be the last time I'll be able to." "Oh? Are you moving?" "... Something like that," the girl admitted. She sounded sad about it and Felicia reached out and touched her hand, her voice warm and gentle. "It's a shame to see you go," she told the her. And when she pulled her hand back from the girl's, she'd left the silver ring there in her palm. Kelly looked up at her with incredulous green eyes. "I ... I can't afford it. Really, I--" "It's a gift," Felicia said, smiling. "To remind you of us wherever you go. No charge." The girl stared at the ring in her hand for a full minute without saying a word. She just looked back and forth from it to Felicia, her mouth hanging open like there was something there just trying to get out but couldn't. As she struggled with herself, her eyes started to well up and tears spilled quietly down her cheeks. Then she grabbed the older woman in a fierce hug, whispered a thank you, and rushed right out of the store without even looking back. Felicia watched her go. * * * Jessie Taylor made his way home from school as quickly as he could despite the heavy limp in his left leg as he did. His face was bruised across the cheekbone, a line of blood having dried down his jaw and his clothes ripped and torn. Some of the people on the street gave him looks, others ignored him, and still others glanced his way before giving him a wide berth. He could hardly blame them. Even though it looked like he was prone to fights, the truth couldn't be farther from it. The problem was that he never fought back. And that an asshole named Ryan Thompson took SUPREME advantage of that. Sometimes he wondered what he had ever done to deserve what Ryan and his cronies sent his way so often. Most times, he just tried to ignore it even as it was happening. It had been going on for so long that he had just accepted it as a fact of life. Like a part of going to school. Or taxes. It wasn't like he was the ONLY kid that ever got picked on. It was just that, for whatever reason, he'd gotten on the radar of this particular asshole early on and never gotten back off of it. Ever since middle school when Ryan had seemed to take an instant disliking to him for no apparent reason. They were both juniors in highschool now and the good times had never stopped. A shove here, a timely placed foot there. Sometimes even a face banging off a locker door when no faculty or concerned students might be looking. Ryan always seemed to get a kick out of physically overpowering Jessie and leaving behind a mark. Mostly, Jessie just tried to avoid him whenever he could. Today was not one of those days, however. He'd been found out for talking to Jessica Sanders. Ryan's super hot, super popular, super blonde girlfriend. It didn't matter that it was just a minute-long conversation during third-period philosophy class about a test that was coming up. It didn't matter if it was just him doing his job as a student tutor asked for a little bit of help. As far as Ryan was concerned, it was equivalent to high crimes against humanity. And a surprise jump in the conveniently empty hall on his way out of school earlier had been his reward. An ambush that was over almost before it started, but not before Jessie had been laid out on the ground with Ryan sneering a warning in his beaten face. "Stick to your own kind and stay away from my girlfriend, mutt!" Ryan had punctuated it with a parting kick to the ribs. Mutt. That was what the asshole used as a pet name for Jessie, and he had ever since middle school. It was a thinly-veiled jab at the fact that Jessie was biracial. So mister all-star, all-perfect, all- everything was a racist. You'd think it was Alabama, or Mississipi -- not the West Coast. Really. The damage was already done for the day and over with, though. Ryan was not going to follow him home. No. The problem he had to deal with now was how he was going to explain these new bruises and scrapes to his grandmother who was absolutely aghast at the idea of him being in any fights whatsoever. No matter that he never fought back and they hardly counted as "fights" so much as him just getting his ass kicked. Not to HIS grandmother. He rushed home, but he always stopped in at The Relic to help out first. He rushed, because he was angrier than usual at getting beat up today. And part of that haste involved slamming right into someone who flung the door to the shop open right in his face as he arrived. That someone tripped over him and he tripped over himself, falling flat on his ass and smacking his head against the sidewalk. His vision exploded into stars and he just lay there for a few seconds, shaking his head and groaning aloud. When he finally managed to pull himself together, he saw the person who had barged into him getting back up to her knees too. And he recognized her almost immediately. Kelly Daniels. Kreepy Kelly. She was an outcast at his school, a quiet loner who spent most of her time alone with her bad attitude. More than once he'd thought she might actually be pretty if she wasn't always scowling or wearing that heavy, gothy makeup all the time. It made her look like one of those kids who showed up at school one day with a gun. Which was probably why everyone seemed to hate her. Or maybe she looked like that BECAUSE everyone seemed to hate her. The world was a cruel, cruel place, Jessie knew. But today was different. Today there was no scowl, even though he had bumped right into her and both of them had crashed into the ground. No. She looked over at him while she tried to pick herself back up, with a pair of the saddest green eyes he'd ever seen on a person before. The kind of eyes that belonged to a person that had just completely given up on everything and everyone. It struck Jessie to see that look on her face. Hard. He wasn't sure just why. "Uhhh ... sorry," was what he stammered, feeling his cheeks go red as he practically leapt back to his feet now in a rush to help Kelly to hers. To his surprise, she actually took his hand when he offered it instead of just slapping it away. "I guess I wasn't looking where I was going, huh," Jessie tried to joke and failed, rubbing a hand back through his kinky hair. She looked like she was about to burst into tears, though. And as Jessie studied her face, he saw the telltale signs of some already having been there, her eye makeup leaving messy lines down onto her cheeks. "Are you okay?" he asked when she didn't do anything but stand there, looking like that. Pity washed over him. Pity and a reminder of how he was sure he could've liked her if she had just dropped the hardass punk bitch attitude like she hated the whole world. Who knew -- maybe she did. But that wasn't what she looked like now, and there was no biting remark forthcoming when he opened his mouth to talk her. Instead it was like she read his mind or something, detecting those passing fancies and feeling some of her own. Because she suddenly grabbed him by the ears and kissed him hard on the lips. At first, Jessie was too stunned and surprised to move. He didn't kiss back and he didn't push her away. He just stood there like a statue, unable to get his brain to respond. And before he ever could, that girl had run away down the street as fast as she could. She was long gone by the time he pulled himself back together. "What. The hell. Was that about?" he wondered in dismay, still thinking of her lips on his. "Jessie!" Felicia yelled at her grandson from the doorway of The Relic, folding her arms across her chest. He snapped back to from gazing after Kelly. "Do you mind telling me what happened THIS time, young man?" He blanked for a moment, then shook his head. Then, taking in his grandmother's furious expression and strangely buoyed by that weird kiss and the flush in his cheeks, he decided to go for broke. "Would you believe, uhh ... masked dwarf ninjas?" She stared at him, those crystalline eyes narrowing darkly. "Get inside." He just sighed. Sighed and trudged after her as she spun instantly on her heel and vanished into the shop. * * * The sun was setting on the beautiful shores of Norman's Beach. It bathed the sky in oranges, blues, and purples so lovely that it kept the tourists coming back season after season. The sound of the waves lapping at the sandy shore was blissfully quiet of them now, with the odd squawk of seagulls punctuating each crescendo before it got sucked back in by the inevitable undertow. Sights and sounds to soothe a soul, should someone let it. Kelly Daniels wished she could let it works its magic like always, but bigger things weighed upon her mind. Things that tainted it beyond what the peaceful calm of nature in her special place could soothe away. She felt numb to it. Numb to her life. She knew ... it just wasn't worth living anymore. Her shoes came off and she left them behind, walking leisurely through the soft, wet sand. She wouldn't need them where she was going. Tears painted her cheeks and her makeup had run all over, but it didn't matter any longer. She'd made the decision shortly after ... Well. She'd made the decision. And she was going to do it today. She HAD too. It wasn't like the rest of her life was bearable or worth sticking around for. She had no friends. She had no family. She had nothing. So she made it to her special safe place as the sun disappeared over the horizon, underneath Pier 17. It had been her own, secret spot for years, a place where she could feel secure and safe and comfortable. It was a feeling she could never get at home. But here? Here she could think and try to convince herself that things were going to get better. Today, though, there was no warmth or sanctuary. The familiar sense of it tugged at her as she walked underneath the pier, but she just couldn't take herself there anymore. It had been violated. EVERYTHING had been violated. And there was nothing left to do except ... go away. Forever. Pulling the ring out of her pocket, a few more tears slipped down her cheeks to join the rest. She'd always loved that ring, always wanted it. And she felt a twinge of guilt as she remembered how she had planned to steal it today. But when the woman had just given it to her? It was too confusing and she didn't know WHAT to do or say that could possibly match that kindness. Nobody was nice to her, much less gave her anything for free. Then, when she had run out of the store, she had run right into her guilty little crush. She liked him because it had always seemed like he was just like her -- a victim of cruel fate. Bullied, and tormented by the other kids. They might not all have hated him like her, but what he lacked in numbers he made up for with the ferocity and single-minded devotion of Ryan Thompson. So she thought he must know what it was like, even if she didn't really know him at all. She had just hoped that he was a kindred soul. Maybe one of the few people who could possibly understand her. Something she had so desperately wanted without realizing it for the longest time. But then she'd stolen that kiss from him. She'd realized that nothing would matter after today and knew she would never get another chance. So she'd kissed him and felt ... nothing. Nothing at all. No love, no lust ... nothing but a numbness that engulfed her entire soul. It was as if her spirit had died last night and was now just waiting that impatient wait for the rest of her body to catch on up. Climbing on top of a pile of driftwood, she slipped the crudely tied noose she'd fashioned around her neck and thought about whether or not she should have left a note. But ... who would care? Honestly, who would actually give a shit? She doubted anyone would even grieve for her when she was gone. She silently hoped that that boy she'd kissed would, but even she knew that was impossible. Her bottom lip trembled a bit as she prepared herself, betraying her resolve. And she hoped it wouldn't hurt so much. Hoped, and said a silent, meaningless prayer. Then she closed her eyes, grasped the ring tightly, and jumped ... She needn't have worried. It was quick. And all was quiet as the ring slid away from her limp fingers, dropping into the sand beneath her gently swinging feet. Sadly, her death was just as her life had been: lonely, and tragic. Chapter Two: Eulogy for Kelly Jessie made his way to the school cafeteria, face still bruised and swollen from yesterday and ears still ringing from the fit his grandma had thrown at those very same wounds. He knew the reason why she didn't want him in fights, of course, though Jessie had told her it was just stupid old Roma superstition. She'd had a dream of him dying quite violently during a fight, so she'd expressedly forbade him from being involved in any at all. But that was much easier said than done. It wasn't like he'd ever had a choice in the matter before. He just tried to put his head down and limp through it. Like always. He got a few minutes to relax in plain sight of everyone during lunch. Mostly because he grabbed his off the line and sat down across from a tall, lean basketball-playing jock with wild red hair and blue eyes named Max "Tex" Caldwell. Tex had earned his nickname long ago by being the superficial epitome of a young southern gentleman, something that was a bit out of place in the West Coast town. But, most importantly, he was Jessie's best and closest friend, despite being from two completely different social cliques. "Hey, cornbread," he greeted the taller boy as he sat down. "Hey, nerd," Tex answered back just as easily. "What happened to your face?" "Wanna take a guess?" Jessie asked, digging immediately into his lunch. "Ryan Thompson again?" "The one and only. But don't worry. I showed HIM. I smashed my face into his fist a few hundred times, so I think he got the message." "Jesus Christ, man ... you sure you don't want me to kick his ass for ya?" "What? You lay a finger on the school's golden boy?" Jessie scoffed, shoveling some overcooked instant mash potatoes into his mouth. "They'd expel your ass in a heartbeat -- Kiss that scholarship you worked so hard for goodbye. I'm not gonna let you do that for me." "Aw, shit. So what? You just gonna let him get away with this happy horseshit whenever he wants? He might be the mayor's son but ..." "Look, don't worry about it," he told him. More easily than he probably would have had Ryan been breathing down his throat with another beating just then. "It's my problem. I'll figure out some way to deal with him." "Uh huh." "Eventually." "Yeah, well ... Hey! I wonder where yer 'girlfriend' is today. She's not in her usual place." He jabbed a finger over Jessie's shoulder and the other boy glanced back toward the corner of the lunchroom where Kelly Daniels always sat by her lonesome. He gave Tex an eyebrow as he came back around. This was an old gag with him by now. "You know she probably doesn't go for nerds, right?" Jessie started to say, then instantly remembered that weird incident yesterday when she had knocked him over, kissed him, and then run away without saying a word. Making absolutely NO sense at ALL. Tex just smirked at him. "Oh, come on! She damn near followed you around all last summer like a little lost puppy. I'd say she's got it bad for ONE nerd at least. Besides, how are ya ever gonna know for sure if ya don't try?" Jessie just looked down again, trying to lose himself in his food. "I guess I don't." "What are you two dumbasses talking about?" A very beautiful, dark-skinned girl with hair the color of polished copper squeezed into a seat next to Tex, smiling broadly before giving her boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. He grinned back at her and forgot Jessie entirely for a moment. Then that girl, Ericka Jenkins, noticed the bruised and purpled face. "Oh no, what was it this time, Jessie?" "Hang gliding accident," he said, not missing a beat or his food. "Crash landed face-first." "Right into Ryan's fist?" Jessie just shrugged. "Well, damn! You gotta learn to defend yourself better or something. You ever hear of bobbing and weaving?" "Thanks, big sis," he told her with a wan smile, stabbing an enthusiastic fork into some congealing mac and cheese. "I think I'll try that next time. You mind if we talk about something else, though? You know, just so I can mentally prepare myself for the fight later without spoiling it now." "We were talking about his love life," Tex informed his girlfriend then, leaning over toward her. "Or lack thereof. Hell, you should just do what I did to get Ericka, here." "Pfft, please. I'm pretty sure you grabbed my ass on a dare," she said, narrowing her almond-shaped eyes at him. "And, if I remember correctly, I damn near separated your jaw for it." "But oooh damn, was it worth it!" he crowed, laughing. "Because I ended up winning yer heart." And he punctuated it by giving her a sweet kiss. "Oh, so very true." Ericka smiled, kissing him back. "I just love my little Texie poo ..." "Whoa, whoa!" Jessie threw his hands up. "Some of us are trying to EAT here, you know. Without all this PDA happening ..." "Ya don't like, then don't watch," Tex retorted. "Hell, if ya git off yer ass, maybe try and find yer balls and ask that girl out, then ya wouldn't have time to worry about our PDA." "A girl? Oooh do tell, Jessie," Ericka teased. "Who's got you all hot and bothered? It's not McKenna Lewis, is it?" "NO. And I'm not all hot and bothered about her either, thank you." "Kelly Daniels," Tex offered up, which drew a slight blush from Jessie across the table. "I say he should ask her out. It's just bad luck she's not here today or I'd have made him do it by now." Jessie rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but noticed Ericka just going pale instead. That smile melted away from her face and it took a moment before Tex noticed too and got a look of concern on his own. "What's the matter?" he asked his girlfriend. "Yeah, she's not THAT bad," Jessie added. "I don't even get what's supposed to be so 'creepy' about her anyways ..." But Ericka just looked from one of them to the other and back again, that hollow look never leaving her for a second. "You guys haven't heard yet?" "Heard what?" Tex asked. "It's all over school, guys," she said. "Kelly killed herself yesterday. They found her underneath the pier on the beach this morning. She hung herself." * * * The rest of the day went by in a blur for Jessie. Each little clique had their own opinion on the death of "Kreepy Kelly" and none of it was good. Sadly, she didn't have the best of reputations and so the rumor mill had a field day speculating as to why she'd really killed herself. Some said she was a slut that got pregnant and couldn't deal with it, others that she was a druggie that took some bad stuff, etc. It was disgusting. A person died and no one even gave a shit. Sick to his core, Jessie just wanted to go home. He'd spent all day listening to that shit and just wanted to get out. Kelly had deserved so much better, he thought angrily. She'd deserved to be treated like a person for Christ's sake! He quickly packed his books from his locker as soon as the day was through. He was hoping to get home before running into any other trouble. He was hoping to get somewhere where he could think about how that poor girl could have ended up killing herself in peace. But his luck wasn't even THAT good. "YO, MUTT! Where do you think you're going?" "Aw fuck," Jessie muttered to himself. "Not this shit today!" It was Ryan Thompson. The pampered son of the town's mayor, he got a LOT of leeway in what he could get away with doing to people. At 6'4", he towered over Jessie, who was just barely 5'11, and he was built like a large, muscular tank, sporting close-cropped blond hair with steel gray eyes and a chiseled jaw line. Most girls thought he was gorgeous. It was too bad since he was just so fucking ugly inside. It didn't help that he was also captain of the football team. So he could get away with pretty much whatever he wanted around school. Most of the time, the threat of his father was enough to make anyone in the faculty stay out of his way as Mayor Thompson was a ruthless, terrible human being that had the entire town under his heavy thumb. Jessie had never met the man, of course, but he'd heard the stories. And the man's son was a great example of just how god-awful that whole family must be. With Ryan came the McQueen twins, Billy and Bobby. Just as tall as Ryan, those two had gelled-back black hair and flanked him like a couple of gorillas. Which was about what they were, as far as Jessie was concerned. If Ryan was the brain then they were the brawn (not that Ryan wasn't just as big). And they followed whatever the guy said without question or hesitation. Why they picked on Jessie was unknown to anyone but Ryan. He seemed to get a particular sadistically sick thrill out of seeing the smaller boy beaten onto the ground. When he started on Jessie, nobody in the hallway stepped in to help, since they weren't that stupid. Nor was it worth it to them. Most just turned their backs, pretending nothing was happening. It was just easier that way. The three caught up to him and circled around, fencing him in. He tried to move away and push past to get out, but Bobby was there, blocking him. And Ryan came up behind, big, shit-eating grin splitting his handsome face. "I heard that little slut that was following you around last summer killed herself," he sneered, hands on hips and staring Jessie down from behind like a cat goading a frightened rat, just waiting for the kill. "Heard she might've been pregnant too. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would ya, mutt? Putting it in that little freak?" Something washed over Jessie. He stopped trying to push past the McQueen boy and just squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a swell of rage. "Don't talk about her like that," was what came out of his mouth, dangerous and low. "Oooooooh, I think we touched a nerve on the little nigger mutt," Ryan laughed, then shoved Jessie from behind into the lockers. When the smaller boy tried to push himself away, Ryan shoved a massive fist beneath his ribs. Jessie crumpled instantly, pitching to the floor and doubling up around his stomach. He gasped in, arms wrapped around himself there as the three looked down at him. Ryan got a sick, twisted smile curling upwards on his face at the sight. "Maybe the creepy, weirdo bitch just couldn't take the thought of being with a nerdy little fuck like you. Because, let's face it ..." He knelt down and put his mouth right next to Jessie's ear, whispering loud enough so just the four of them could hear. "No girl could." There's a rule that every hiker or camper follows when in the woods: never provoke a coiled snake. Well, the same rings true with nerds in the fetal position. Apparently. With those words in his ear and the much larger boy leering over him, Jessie finally snapped. A fist came out of nowhere, slamming right up into Ryan's crotch. A high-pitched squeak ripped free from his throat, and he tumbled over to his knees, face apoplectic. Jessie met his eyes there in the middle, shoulders heaving as he seethed. Then he swung another fist straight into the larger boy's face. The McQueen boys said nothing as Ryan toppled over and then lay there on the ground holding his face in disbelief. It was as if he was genuinely surprised that Jessie had had the outright audacity to defend himself. But that disbelief quickly turned to rage as he slowly pulled himself back up to his feet, cradling his damaged junk. Those gray eyes clouded over with anger and overwhelming hate. "WHAT ARE YOU TWO FUCKTARDS LOOKING AT!" Ryan shrieked, part-alto and part-bass. "GET HIM!!!" Jessie's head snapped back toward Billy and Bobby. They looked stunned, eyes wide and incredulous that someone had actually punched Ryan back. And taken him down. And before they could gather their few wits back about them, Jessie ducked between and bolted away down the hallway. The McQueens were right behind him. Gaining quickly too. But in a mix of clumsiness (and maybe sheer brilliance), Jessie kicked over a nearby janitor's mop bucket. The used and dirty, soapy water sent the two other boys flipping hard, head-over-heels into the floor. Almost everyone else who was still in the hallway busted out laughing at them as they slid right onto their asses. And they kept sliding and falling over each other for a good minute and a half before finally getting their footing on dry floor again. But by that time, Jessie was long gone. Chapter Three: Roma Revenge Jessie found himself at The Relic sometime later as he always did, thinking things were over for the moment and that it was just time to get to work. In truth, it wasn't so bad working there after school every day. He thought it was an interesting enough job, especially when the rare and obscure items came through the store. And, as weird as the place was, it brought a sense of peace he couldn't quite find anywhere else. Most of the time anyway. Case in point, like right now. He'd have rather been anywhere else other than the shop when he was getting chewed out by his grandmother. "Again, Jessie?" Felicia yelled in annoyance as soon as she got a good look at him trudging into the store. "What have I told you about fighting?" She'd been dusting some vases but gave up on that, hands on imperious hips. For Jessie's part, he just came up short and looked back at her, giving a big sigh for everything that he had just done and survived and somehow managed to get away clean from. "It's not my fault, Gram, I swear!" he told her, throwing up his hands. "I've tried EVERYTHING I can. He still won't leave me alone!" "Then try harder!" just Felicia snapped at him. He sighed again, lowering his head and tossing his book bag over behind the counter. "I just wish you could understand what it's like, Gram. I'm not the one picking these fights." Felicia's face softened at the defeat and frustration wafting off of him then. "I know, hon," she told him, sounding more like his late mother than grandmother. "But you do know why I don't want you to fighting. I don't have to tell you twice how disturbing my vision was." "I don't believe in those Roma superstitions," Jessie grumbled, barely loud enough to hear. Then, "Look, it was just a dream. Nothing more. You need to stop freaking out over nothing." "I am NOT freaking out over nothing! I take it seriously and so should you," Felicia spat back, defensively. "Try to make friends with the boy or something but promise me no more fighting okay? Please? Can you do that for me?" Jessie's shoulders slumped and he shook his head. A weak smile spread across it after a moment and he crossed over, stretching up to kiss his grandmother on the forehead. "Fine. But only because you asked me so nicely." "Good." Felicia smiled warmly. Then she patted him on the shoulder. "Now, go clean up the upstairs storeroom." * * * A classic '68 Camero inched slowly down the street like a wild tiger searching for prey. Inside it, three teenagers still steaming from their embarrassment at school were seeking revenge. Looking in the rearview mirror, I sneered at the black eye given to me by that little nerd. As soon as I found him ... oh, was he going to suffer for that shit. "There!" one of the McQueens -- Bobby -- stuck his finger past the side of my face toward a building along main street. "That's where that little shit works." I pulled over to the curb, slowly, eagerness to get the punk back bubbling up. But I had it under control. I ALWAYS had things under control. And right now, I was just going to prove that to this little puke. But I got some grumblings for some reason. "Dude ..." Billy whined as we popped out of my car, with me first out on the street, "I don't think this is a good idea, man. I heard some weird shit about this place ..." I glared at him like he was an idiot. Probably because he was, he just usually had the good sense not to open his mouth and bother me with it. But he was too busy sizing up that musty-looking shop with something akin to trepidation on his face. I grabbed him by his jacket front. "You wanna puss out?" I snapped at him. "Really? After he embarrassed the hell out of us back there?" The other boy shook his head, but still looked unnerved by the place. Big fucking deal, man. I stuck a finger in his face. "Get your shit together, Billy. Bottom line -- he needs to pay." "Mannn, what is your obsession with this guy anyways?" Bobby chimed in as he climbed out of the backseat, joining his bro and sounding just as whiny. "I know he's a dorky fucking loser, but ... you'd think he slept with your girlfriend or something, the way you go on." "You wanna watch your goddamn, fucking mouth with me, Bobby?" I snarled at him instead of decking him right in the face for the nerve to say some shit like that to me. No, I was saving that for the little kid inside. "I don't have a fucking problem with him other than he is who he is and it pisses me the fuck off. Do I gotta remind you both how fucking stupid he just made you look?" Neither of them looked like they needed a reminder, but man did that place seem to have them spooked. I took another look at it, but didn't see why. It was just a creepy old building, yeah, but it wasn't like it was all alone on some dark and stormy hilltop for Christ's sake. This was fucking main street. "Come on, pussies," I threw back at them, and walked inside. Wonder of all fucking wonders, they actually managed to man up and follow. A bell chimed overhead for each of us above the door. That place was as creepy on the inside as it was on the outside. Worthless old junk was everywhere in cases, on stands, or just lying on shelves. Weird shit. Like coffins and mummy's tomb type shit. I could see the two McQueens trying to suppress a mutual shudder behind me. Fucking pansies. An older woman was inside too, dusting some of that junk scattered all around. She might have been Jessie Taylor's mom, by the looks of her, and -- surprise, surprise -- a real milf. She wasn't a little nigger bitch like her son, though. So probably just a coalburner. "Hey," I shouted at her from across the room. "Where's my friend Jessie at? I know he works here." The woman turned around, looking at us. She had a real eastern European flavor to her now that I could see, like she'd been one of those little girls that flees a shitty hovel over there to try things out in a real country. Talked like it too. She immediately gave us the eye. "Jessie? What do you want with my grandson?" Grandson? Damn, but I wouldn't have guessed. "It's none of your business, old lady. I wanna see the mutt." "What a disrespectful young man!" she fumed at me, putting bony old hands on hips. "There is no mutt here! Now, if you have no further business, I suggest you LEAVE!" "I'm not leaving without him." I straightened up to my full height, then threw the old line at her. "You know who I am? Who my father is? ... Do you?" "No, I do not," she had the gall to say back. No one ever did. But this bitch, which ... like grandson, like granny. I didn't have a problem setting the whole family straight if I had to. "Leave! NOW!" she practically shrieked. "I don't think so." The McQueens weren't much help, just standing there wondering which way this was gonna go. So I set the ball rolling. I walked over to one of those stands and bumped the vase on it so that it tipped over and shattered against the floor. "Oops. Clumsy me." "That was a five-thousand dollar vase!" the old woman screamed at me. "Look, old lady, I can't help myself." I gave the two boys behind me a nod to get them started. "You REALLY don't want me hanging around here any longer than I have to. Where's Jessie?" Smiles flashed across Billy and Bobby's faces. They got the picture, and this was something simple they could handle. Even enjoy. They started moving around, smashing everything in sight. More pricey antiques, old books to rip, anything they caught sight of. The old woman was practically ready to have a stroke. "STOP IT!" she shrieked, clutching at her face. Then he finally showed. The little shit had been hiding in the back room. He came rushing out into the main floor and immediately stopped, gasping in horror at the McQueens rampaging around like twin bulls in a china shop, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. I had to admit, I was pretty proud of them for once. I glanced back at the old bitch, grinning ear to ear. Things were going MY way now. Then something hit me from the side. I hadn't been paying attention for that split second it took Jessie Taylor to rush me with everything he had. Who knew the little punk had it in him? I got tackled to the ground and the kid started laying into me with his fists. And that surprise attack was about the best and only chance he had of winning that fight. As soon as I realized what was happening, I turned that shit around. Jessie couldn't take me in a fight without doing some bitch thing like he had back at school. I was ready for that this time. I got him turned around, on the ground, pinned him down and started wailing on his stupid face again. "Jessie, NO!" his granny screamed from behind. The McQueens rushed up and got her from either side, holding her back. "Come on, nigger mutt." I stood up, and dragged the near-comatose boy with me. He was down and out. Now it was time for a coup-de-grace. "Let's see you spread some wings ..." I hefted him up into the air, and threw him. The old woman wilted, watching her grandson slam hard into a nearby suit of armor. It had a wet sound to it, followed by the clatter of the suit falling completely apart. I dry washed my hands loudly. "Was that as good for you as it was for me? Phew! Satisfying ..." "Yeah, that'll teach him, Ryan," Billy chimed up from behind. We all shared a laugh. Neither Jessie nor his old lady were laughing. Something was wrong. A nasty gurgling sound was coming from where the punk had landed. Both the McQueens looked suddenly stricken, and grandma was able to slip out of their grip. She tore past me and I followed her all the way to Jessie, where she threw herself down at his side. There was blood on the floor. "Holy shit," Bobby breathed. I took a step closer, and anger bled away to silent horror. Looking at the kid on the floor with his grandma cradling his head, I saw the old sword from that suit of armor sticking up and out of his chest. It had to have sliced right through him when he hit it. I froze, not really believing it. Some rational part of my brain tried to convince me. He was dying. Jessie Taylor ... was dying. "You're going to be okay, sweetie," the old woman was cooing through tears down at the boy. It wasn't obvious who she was trying to convince of that lie more. "Just stay with me okay?" "I'm ... so sorry ... Gram," Jessie just barely managed. It looked like the blade had pierced part of a lung. "Shhhhh, don't talk," she said, gently smoothing back the matted, blood- flecked hair from his face, and trying a weak smile. "Save your strength." A nasty rattling noise came from Jessie as he choked on a few more breaths, trying to hyperventilate. The look he gave his grandmother then was so heartrending, so fierce and crestfallen ... But then his eyes went blank and his body fell limp. He was gone. Silence. "No. No. Jessie. Please ... no." Tears were streaming down the old woman's cheeks. She shook the dead kid in her arms. "Don't play your stupid games with me," she whispered. "Wake up. Please wake up ...?" Silence. Except for that old woman crying over the dead Jessie Taylor. "Oh my god," Billy McQueen suddenly broke it from behind. "We gotta get the fuck out of here!" This was murder. They knew. Even my dad couldn't get us out of something like this. The McQueens ran for the exit, but I was still frozen there in utter shock, staring at the dead Jessie. I probably never would've seen those two again if the door had actually opened. They ripped at it, but it wouldn't budge. Somehow, it had locked and no matter how much they struggled, it wouldn't open. It was like the thing had suddenly welded itself shut. "Why won't this thing fucking open?!" "I don't fucking know, dude!" "Where do you think you're going?" came a much more thickly accented voice from the old woman. It croaked out of her mouth -- low, alien, and dangerous. The McQueens turned back around as the old woman slowly rose to her feet. There was something almost demonic about her now, as she twisted toward them, her tear-stained face smooth and impassive. Those eyes glowed red like coals inside her head. I felt the two McQueens behind me. They came running up like they were going to hide there in my shadow. Like I could stop this or make it go away. "You three have FUCKED with the wrong family," the woman growled, coming closer with her heels. They echoed on the hardwood floor of the shop with a haunting clack, clack, clack. "And you're going to pay DEARLY for it ..." Wind started blowing in the room without any windows or doors open. It got dark. REAL dark. That whistle became a howl and picked up the old woman's hair, whipping it around her head as she continued to stalk slowly toward us. "Wh-what the hell is going on?" Bobby stammered fearfully from behind me. "I'm chovihani," the woman told him in that otherworldly, malevolent- sounding voice too big for her tiny body. "A gypsy witch. Never have I used my powers this way, for no one has ever given me a reason to do so until now. But now ... NOW, I'm going to make an exception out of you three for ..." She couldn't even finish the thought. Not immediately. "You three killed my grandson. You'll pay for that." "It was an accident! Ryan, tell her it was an accident!" one of the twins was clutching at my arm fiercely. I had still been staring at Jessie, dead on the floor. There were tears in my eyes and I didn't know why. It wasn't fear. I just felt numb. Numb. "It was Ryan's idea!" one of the others stammered out hastily. I didn't notice which one but it didn't matter. "He wanted us to come here! He ... he killed your grandson, not us!" "SILENCE!!!" the old woman boomed, and it felt like a hammer blow across the face. The wind was shrieking in our ears all around us like a hurricane, whipping up antiques and doing more damage to the shop than ever we had done. "IT'S TOO LATE FOR EXCUSES ... FAR, FAR TOO LATE!" I finally saw the old woman for what she was in that moment, that windstorm whipping wildly around her. I snapped out of it from Jessie and stared back at her, feeling genuine fear for maybe the only time in my entire life. But she wasn't looking at me just then. "Bobby and Billy McQueen," she started in the less angry god-like, more sinister voice. They both flinched in unison like they'd been whipped. She studied them intently for several moments. "You two have been mindless followers your whole life, even though you should have had the sense of mind to do otherwise. You should have used your brains more. I punish you to a life where those attributes shall suit you better!" She snapped her fingers, and the McQueen brothers screamed in pain and terror. I glanced quickly back over my shoulder, feeling that psychic force like a cold horror slipping past my physical body. And I watched their entire bodies crack like glass before shattering into nothingness. Just like that, and they were gone. Impossibly gone. I swallowed thickly, staring into the empty space where those two had been. Where nothing to show that they had ever been stood there now. I was alone. "And now," the woman spoke from back in front of me. I felt that voice creep across me like a spider and I squeezed my eyes shut. "What to do with YOU, Ryan Thompson ..." When I twisted back around, she was right in my face, reaching a hand up to stroke my cheek. The feel was alien, and I flinched. We were in the eye of the hurricane that was tearing her shop apart. "A young boy of privilege and power. Someone who could go on to do great things if he wanted, yet your only wish is to abuse what you were given. Doing harm to others while hiding behind your father's title. It must make you feel like a big man, doesn't it? I think a special punishment is due for you -- you, who were the hand that caused my sweet Jessie's death. What shall it be I wonder?" Those tears were still in my eyes as I locked them with the woman. An icy chill flowed over me, and I shuddered at her burning bright with anger. She tilted her head curiously, like she was reading my mind and soul. "Indeed, I am," she echoed my thoughts. "I'm looking VERY deeply. Such shameful secrets you hide, even from yourself. I must say it would be quite amusing if it wasn't so pathetic. The richest, most spoiled boy in town, who could have anything he wanted except the one thing all your money could never buy. So he becomes a cowardly bully instead. I almost feel sorry for you. Almost." "What are you going to do to me?" I managed to croak out, my tongue thick and clumsy in my own mouth. I still felt numb inside, a dead man waiting for the headsman's axe now. I thought about what she had done to the McQueens, and I trembled. "I know the truth," she said, smiling up at me maliciously. I shuddered again. "Get it over with," I told her in a small, hollow voice. "Kill me then. I'm done." "Oh, I'm not going to kill you, Ryan," she assured me with that deadly smile so like a snake's. "And you're not done yet. I'm going to take everything that you hold dear away from you -- your money, your power that you hide behind, your father and his reputation -- everything that has made you the man you are. You will suffer as you have made others suffer. I punish you to a life that is the complete opposite of the pampered life you knew. Hopefully it'll make you a better person, but I truly doubt it." She snapped her fingers, and that cold slap of ghostly force hit me again. This time harder. A LOT harder. My arm stiffened up like brittle glass, then started to crack, spreading along my whole body. I opened my mouth to say I was sorry. Somehow. But all that came out was an eardrum-shattering scream as I felt my body shatter into a million pieces. And then ... nothingness. * * * Felicia Lupescu watched as the boy, Ryan Thompson, shattered into nothingness like the two McQueen brothers before him. Justice has been done. Not that it would ever make right what was wrong or bring her ... her grandson back. But it was done. The glow faded from her eyes and she squeezed them shut, slumping down to the floor. Tears streamed down her face anew now that she was alone, and the choking darkness faded back away into the shop floor from whence it came. It wasn't right that she had used her magic this way, but neither was having to bury her grandson. No. She couldn't care about anything being right much anymore. Eventually, she pulled herself back together enough to open her eyes. What she saw then made her gasp in surprise. The store was in immaculate condition somehow. Everything that the three boys had broken was back to the way it was as if they had never been. There was nothing at all to show that anything violent had ever happened. How was that even ... possible? The magic. It had to be the magic. But ... what had it done to change this. THIS? "Hey, Gram! Where do you want me to put these vases?" Her confused thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice calling to her from the back room. And her jaw dropped as her grandson appeared out of there, carrying a few things out and setting them on the counter. He was completely fine. Not a bruise on his face, and completely oblivious to the carnage that had happened just a short while ago. She glanced over at the suit of armor that was still standing -- intact, and holding that sword out without a trace of the boy's blood on it. Or the floor. She gaped at it. It wasn't possible. How ...? "Are you okay?" her grandson asked, suddenly noticing her tear-stained face. And the fact that she was on her knees in the middle of the shop. "Did, uh, someone die on one of your soaps today? Or something?" She ignored him, leaping back to her feet and rushing him with the biggest hug her aging body could manage. Laughing at the wonderful joy of it. Trying hard not to cry but failing. It shouldn't have been possible but how could she possibly complain? She was suddenly just so glad that she had him back and that he was perfectly fine. So, so very, very glad. "I thought I'd lost you!" Felicia sobbed loudly, clutching the boy like he might be snatched away from her all over again at any moment. "Lost me? What?" asked a confused Jessie, awkwardly patting her back and rolling his eyes. "What are you talking about, Gram? You told me to go move that stuff just a few minutes ago." "Never mind. Never mind!" Felicia sniffed, wiping at her tears as she pushed back away from him enough to get a good look at his wonderful face. And she smiled at him, so alive and well. "It's nothing," she said then. "Nothing at all." Chapter Four: The Gypsy's Curse I groaned as I woke up to the morning. My whole body felt stiff and sore as if I'd just gotten sacked and slammed by the whole football team. Everything was so blurry as I opened my eyes. I must've had a really rough time last night. Or something. Gah! What a weird dream. Magic and gypsy witches? Yeah, right. As my vision cleared, I noticed I wasn't in my normal bedroom. Football trophies, my car chick posters, and my giant plasma screen TV were nowhere in sight. I wasn't even sleeping on my familiar, king-sized bed. Instead, I was in some dreary, bare room with a small mattress on the floor. Where the hell am I? I wondered, still half asleep. Weird. I felt weird. But ... whatever. It wasn't like this was the first time I'd drank too much and woken up in a strange place. Though, this wasn't the type of place I usually partied. It was so dreary and depressing I could've imagined having been kidnapped. Still groggy, I made my way to the bathroom of the unknown house. I really had to piss. But as I slid down the sweatpants I was wearing to drain the weasel, I ... couldn't find my dick. I must've been more out of it than I thought. Even a blind guy with no hands could find his dick. Must've been some heavy shit. I half-heartedly swore that I'd never drink again. I changed tactics, pulling my sweats clumsily down all the way to my ankles like some retard kid. But still no success. So I looked down, frowning in confusion. I came completely awake pretty fast in that moment. My penis was gone. COMPLETELY gone. In its place was what looked like a smoothly shaved, hairless cleft. Pulling my suddenly trembling hand back, I noticed it wasn't my normally tough and callused hand either. Instead, it was almost delicate, with short nails painted in a chipped dark blue. "What the fuck?" I started to scream, but slapped a hand over my mouth instead. That wasn't my normal voice. It was squeaky-high like a girl's. Scrambling back to the mirror, I gasped in disbelief. It wasn't my face looking back at me either -- it was some girl's face. "Holy fucking shit!" I breathed in that tinny alto. I slapped the glass of the mirror, gasping in dismay as either hand tried to cover up that face. Then they flew to either cheek, and I pawed at the skin. That scruffy-looking girl looked like she was going to cry. She had shaggy brown hair, green eyes, and pale, cream-colored skin with a hint of freckles across her nose. One nostril had a silver little stud in it. "Oh my god," I whispered, still disbelieving. "I'm Kreepy Kelly." I started to feel really dizzy. "No. No. No. This has GOT to be a fucking dream!" I collapsed onto the toilet before I could piss myself, going numb. My whole body was shaking all over as I finally peed. It was weird going as a ... a girl. There was nothing to aim with. I sat there, feeling the alien feel of pissing out a vagina, and thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. When I was done, without thinking, I folded a few sheets of toilet paper and wiped myself dry again as if I'd done it a hundred times before. What the hell? I realized what I had done and wondered why. Then I grabbed the clothes that were hanging off the shower rod and slid them on like they were mine. What the fuck? I was wearing a tattered pair of jeans, a band t-shirt, and a well-worn leather jacket. Somehow, I just knew that they were this girl's most cherished items. Kreepy Kelly. Kelly Daniels. Was that really who I was now? I went back to the mirror, my hands now moving of their own accord. They'd been doing that, apparently, and I felt like I was just along for the ride. I tried to fight it this time, but to no avail. So I watched as I grabbed a makeup kit that must have been Kelly's, and proceeded to apply heavy mascara and black lipstick. It was weird, but at the same time it felt normal. To me in this body, at least. Just as my body was finishing up against my will, someone started to pound on the bathroom door. "Open the god damned door!" The angry voice that growled at me from the other side brought an instinctual, animal-like sensation of fear to this new body. I found myself unable to stop shaking for a whole new reason as my hand reached for the doorknob. Something inside my head that was now a part of me knew exactly who the voice belonged to, and told me. Kelly's stepfather. MY stepfather now? I opened the door and swallowed thickly as a huge bear of a man stood over me, reeking of booze. Whether he was a decent man sober was something Kelly, and by extension me in her body, had never seen before. Or probably ever would. "This ain't no damn Hilton, you little bitch!" he yelled at me, stabbing a fat finger in my face. "You better hope to hell that check from your mother's insurance comes pretty soon or else you're out on your ass. Now get the fuck out of my face!" I didn't need to be told twice. Not the new me. I just did as I was told and raced out the door of the house, leaving him behind as quickly as my skinny little girl legs could handle. I had to find some way to reverse this. NOW. Skipping school (like HELL I was going there looking like THIS), I made my way toward my real house. Yeah, that's it. If I could explain everything to my dad and convince him of the truth, it would all be alright. He could get that gypsy bitch to change me back, I was sure of it. My dad could get me out of anything. After a two-hour long trek where I had plenty of time to get used to this tiny, girl's body all over again and hate it for everything that it wasn't, I made it to the house. But something was wrong. Stuck in the lawn was a big "For Sale" sign. I rushed to the windows, peering inside. There were only empty rooms. "This has to be a mistake," I mumbled desperately to myself. "This is the wrong house or ... or something!" "Can I help you with something, miss?" asked a well-dressed man with a suit and clipboard after a few desperate moments of wandering around the exterior. He was obviously a realtor and obviously interested in whatever it was that I was doing. "You seem lost," was his polite way of putting it. It took me a few seconds to process that he'd called me "miss". And then I spun back around, my cheeks red. I wanted to get angry at him, to scream that I wasn't this thing he saw me as. Not deep down inside. But I didn't. I couldn't. I knew immediately that no one would believe me. "The family that lived here," I stammered out instead. "Wh-where did they go?" My voice was weak, and I felt weak. Even though that guy gave me this look like I might've been trying to break in and steal something -- like I was just some piece-of-shit teenager -- I couldn't even challenge him on it. He towered over me a full head or more and at least sixty pounds. "You must not be from around here," he said, smiling one of those fake, salesman smiles. People flocking around my dad had them all the time. "This used to be the Mayor's house. But they moved out about ... ohhh, uhhh, I'd say about a month ago now. Right about the time his son Ryan passed on. I guess he couldn't take the death of his only son. It really was no surprise to anyone when he stepped down from his position and retired out of state." "H-his son?" I choked out. I wanted to tell him that I was the Mayor's son. Me! Ryan Thompson! But I felt like someone had punched the air right out of my lungs. "How did he ... die?" "Tragic, I'm afraid. From what I gather, he was speeding his car on Willow Pass Road. If anyone knows that particular stretch of road, those curves are not to be taken lightly. And not at 90 miles an hour. He lost control of his car, skidded off the road and crashed into a tree. They said he might have survived had the gas tank not ruptured and caught fire. It's not exactly the way I'd choose to go." An image of my old Camero flashed inside my head. And me. The me who, until today, had been alive, and well, and prince of this shitty little town. The realtor must have seen something in my face, because he suddenly turned sympathetic. "I apologize for my insensitivity. Were you a relative?" "I'm ... I'm nobody," I spat out, now feeling extremely sick to my stomach. Kelly Daniels WAS nobody. And now I was Kelly Daniels. I ran off, not caring where I was going. This was just too weird, too ... too HORRIBLE. How did you wake up a girl and then find out the real you DIED? My mind wandered as my feet walked almost of their own accord. An hour later, I found myself at the door of the Relic. My dad was gone. I had to force the old lady to change me back myself now. I just HAD to. "Where are you, you old bitch?" I growled as I entered the store and looked around. I was taken aback for a moment, though, seeing the entire place looking like it had before we'd wrecked it the other day. Had she somehow fixed all that by magic too? That damn well better mean she could fix THIS! "Hello again, young lady," the now familiar and dreaded voice of that self-proclaimed gypsy woman came from behind a shelf. She seemed to recognize me. Well, Kelly. "How can I help you today?" "You fucking bitch!" I snapped at her, fury flaring up inside of me at the sight of the woman who had done this. To me! The woman who had KILLED me. "I don't know what you did, but you better UNdo it right fucking now!" The woman scoffed, face flashing in annoyance. "Young lady!" she scolded like I was just some little girl. "Where are your manners?" The few other people browsing inside the shop goggled at me, but didn't know what to say. I ignored them completely, uncaring. "Don't you fucking call me that!" I screamed at her, getting right up in her face. The effect wasn't quite so intimidating as it had been when I'd been a six-foot-four football-playing DUDE. A look of realization formed over the woman's face a few moment's later. Followed by a wide smile. It made me even angrier, but then she motioned for me to suddenly follow and a spark of hope came with it. She led me back to a small office off the main floor and took a seat behind a desk. Those shoppers went back about their business, probably trying to forget. "Have a seat," she told me. "I don't want a seat!" I snapped back, folding my arms under little breasts that hadn't existed for me until that morning. "I want -- no, no, no -- I DEMAND you fix this! Now!" "I SAID SIT DOWN!" I collapsed into the chair like a ragdoll. My anger fled me and so did all the confidence it brang at her thundering voice so like yesterday in the shop. I suddenly felt tiny and weak again, like I had with my stepfather that morning. KELLY's stepfather, I reminded myself with an effort. Kreepy Kelly's stepfather. She could keep him, and she could keep this fucked up life. "I have to say that this is pretty surprising, Ryan. But Roma magic is so chaotic and unpredictable. Had it been up to me, you would be nothing more than a worm dangling on a fish hook. But I think this is a more satisfying alternative. Now you get to see firsthand the same type of pain you've inflicted on others." "You ... you can't do this!" I tried to shout, but it came out weak. "Do you know who my father is? Do you know what he'll do to you?" But I sounded as whiny as a little teenage girl. "Your threats ring a tad bit hollow now," she sneered across the desk at me, totally unfazed. "Gone are the days where you can hide behind your daddy. And as for my right to do this -- I have every right to. You bullied and then KILLED my grandson!" "I ..." I started to argue, but then felt that same guilt I'd felt upon first seeing Jessie Taylor's body bleeding out on the floor slam into me full-force. I hadn't thought about that since waking up. I'd thought it was all just a bad dream until I'd realized I wasn't me anymore. And then I hadn't had a thought to spare for what might've happened to the boy that I'd killed. "I-I'm sorry," I stammered out, feeling tears burn at the corners of my eyes again. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident! I didn't WANT to kill him ..." "I believe you. But it changes nothing. You did kill him, and this is the fate you've earned for yourself." "You killed me too!" I thrust an accusing finger her way. "That ... that makes you JUST as bad as me!" "Don't you dare argue morality with me, little girl!" She crossed her arms imperiously, and looked down like a disapproving mother at me from across the desk. She could do that now -- look down at me. "Besides, I did nothing. Ryan killed himself. He shouldn't have been driving so fast -- everyone knows how dangerous Willow Pass is." "But I'M R- ... R- ... Kelly!" I shook my head. "No, I mean I'm Kelly! What the fuck? Why can't I say my name? It's not Kelly, it's Kelly! FUCK!" I glared daggers at the woman, like she was doing this. Somehow, she was. "That's your name," she informed me. "Kelly Daniels, a poor lost soul unable to bear the hardships of life and so she took her own. The magic has decided to give her a second chance, though why with you is anyone's guess. You should find you have her emotions and her memories, as well as your old ones, is my guess. We wouldn't want you to forget that you're being punished, or why, now would we?" "But I ..." I looked at her, but there was no sympathy. Just smugness. Satisfaction. She thought I deserved this. Maybe I did, but ... "I don't want this life!" I tried to tell her, my voice small. "I ... I can't be a girl. I just can't!" I pleaded with my eyes as I looked up at her again. "Well, the world doesn't revolve around you anymore. I could honestly care less what you want or don't want," she said matter-of-factly. And waited until I'd slumped there in defeat in the chair until she continued. "But I'm not a cruel woman. If you can prove that you can change your hateful ways, I might be inclined to undo what was done. " "You ... you will?" "Perhaps. We'll see, won't we? Just not now." "Why not?" She sighed. "As I said, Roma magic is chaotic and unpredictable. There is nothing I can do until it has run its course and stabilized. To do so will only make it worse." "So how long will that be?" "A few months, at least." "A few months?! Are you fucking kidding me? I can't do this for a few fucking MONTHS!" "You can and you will," she stated, cold again. "And you WILL watch your mouth. At least around me. You seem to forget that this is a well- deserved punishment that you brought on yourself. Accept it, and deal with it." I didn't know what else to say, a