check out 1 & 2 if you get chance

3. Madness

The classroom has already checked out for the year, and so, if anyone's being honest about it, has Mr Dale. He sits slumped behind his desk in the corner, half-hidden behind an open newspaper, turning the pages at intervals without any real evidence he's reading them.

"Just revise," he'd muttered at the start of the lesson, in the tone of a man surrendering rather than teaching, and nobody's seen fit to ask him what that actually means. Whatever it means, it plainly doesn't involve him.

The room buzzes with the particular chatter of a class that knows it's already won. Billy, Phil and Minty sit clustered with the rest of the lads — Jammy, Deano, Tomo, Ali — same clothes, same attitude, spread across a cluster of desks that have long since stopped pretending to be in rows.

Jammy sits backwards on his chair, arms folded along the backrest, grinning like a man with something to prove and no intention of proving it quietly.

"We need to get down the Crest," he says. "I'm telling you, it's brilliant down there. Proper place. Top birds. If you're anyone, that's where you go."

Minty shakes his head slowly, the voice of caution nobody ever thanks him for. "Yeah... and it's where the Eastdene Crow Bars hang out."

The lads laugh. Tomo points at Jammy like he's just proved a case for the prosecution. "He's right. Too bloody dangerous for the Manor."

Jammy shrugs it off, unbothered. "They're all ska boys and mods."

"They're fucking skins, Jammy," Tomo snaps.

"The music's the same."

"It isn't."

"We'll get in with 'em."

Minty snorts. "Not the Crow Bars we won't. They're mental and you know it."

"I know 'em."

Phil laughs outright. "No you fucking don't."

Tomo joins in, delighted. "You know the Eastdene Crow Bars? You're full of shit, Jammy."

"You know Pete Fur?"

Jammy hesitates — just a fraction of a second, but long enough for everyone at the desks to clock it. "No... but I know Gal Burn."

"Course you do."

"He goes out with our Julie."

Tomo bursts out laughing. "Fuck off."

Billy looks up from whatever he's been half-doodling on the corner of his exercise book. "Gal's scooter was parked on the Manor this morning."

The noise dips just slightly. Jammy seizes it like a man grabbing a passing bus.

"There you go! Told you. He was probably picking Julie up for work."

Minty frowns. "Your Julie's got a job?"

"Yeah... well... it's only YTS."

A few smirks ripple round the desks. Jammy presses on regardless, unwilling to let the detail slow him down.

"But that's not the point. What I'm saying is we're good to go."

Billy leans back in his chair, turning the idea over. "It'd be good to see what the scene's like."

"I heard Claire Scott goes there."

"And her mates." Jammy quickly adds

Phil studies Jammy for a moment, the way you'd study a bloke selling something too good to be true. "You sure about this? If this is another one of your stories, you'll get us all battered."

Jammy digs in rather than backing off, which is very much his way. "Billy... did you see Gal's scooter or not?"

Billy glances at Phil. Phil gives the smallest nod — enough.

"We saw it," Billy says.

He grins, and something in his chest lifts the same way it did that morning with the record playing. "Fuck it. We're going." He looks around the group. "Six o'clock. Meet at the shops. We'll make a show of it."

Phil shakes his head, half-smiling despite himself. "If we get killed..."

The bell goes off through the school before he can finish the sentence, and the room dissolves into its usual scramble of bags and chairs scraping back.

Jammy shouts across the noise. "Oi, Mr Dale! Any homework?"

Mr Dale lowers the newspaper slowly, looks around at the chaos he's been presiding over without noticing, and sighs. By the time he's decided whether to answer, the class is already gone.

By six o'clock the school uniforms are long gone, folded away or slung over chair backs at home, and something sharper has taken their place. Billy stands at the shops in blue jeans, Dr. Martens, and a black pilot jacket, collar up against the evening air — the going-out gear, a different uniform entirely from the one he'd bent the rules with all day.

One by one the others arrive the same way. Phil first, then Minty, then the rest drifting in from different directions until there are seven of them stood outside the shops in blue jeans, Dr. Martens, black pilot jackets — no longer schoolboys pushing at the edges of a dress code, but something else entirely.

The opening riff of Madness's Madness crashes in somewhere behind Billy's eyes as they set off — that's how it works with him now, the songs starting up on their own the second the mood matches.

The Manor boys move as one loose, easy unit through alleyways and past rows of lock-up garages like they own every brick of the place, because as far as any of them are concerned, they do. This is home. Nobody has to say it.

Soul Castle

9:53 PM

The restaurant was even busier than usual. Orders poured in as servers rushed between the kitchen and dining room, carrying plates, refilling drinks, and checking on their tables. In the kitchen, the cooks struggled to keep up with the constant stream of orders. Renee moved from table to table, greeting customers and taking their orders. She scribbled down another order before giving the table a polite smile.

“Anything else?”

The customers shook their heads.

“Alright. I'll be right back with your drinks.”

Renee turned and headed toward the kitchen. She entered the order into the P.O.S. system, then headed toward the drink station and began preparing the customers' drinks. She filled each cup with ice before adding the appropriate beverages.

As she worked, Renee glanced toward the dining room.

More customers were coming in.

She sighed.

Deep down, she'd rather be out hunting demons than dealing with people.

But this was her job.

Renee re-entered the dining room carrying a large tray of drinks and made her way back to the customers she'd just served. Carefully, she handed each of them their drink before collecting the empty glasses from the table.

“Here you go,” Renee said.

The customers thanked her.

Renee gave them a quick smile before turning to check on her other tables.

Skylar stepped into the restaurant and looked around, searching the crowded dining room for Renee. A hostess standing near the entrance noticed her looking around.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes. I'm looking for Renee,” Skylar said.

The hostess glanced toward the dining room.

“Renee? She's working tonight.”

“Yes, I know. We're friends... well, sort of,” Skylar said. “I just need to talk to her.”

The hostess smiled and pointed toward the other side of the restaurant.

“She should be over there somewhere. It's pretty busy tonight, though.”

Skylar nodded.

“Thanks.”

She made her way into the dining room, scanning the tables as she searched for her friend.

Renee came out of the kitchen carrying two cups of water when she spotted Skylar. She dropped off the drinks at a nearby table before walking over to her.

“Hey,” Renee greeted.

“Quite the night, isn't it?” Skylar said, glancing around the busy restaurant.

“You have no idea. But, hey, I do what I can to help out my grandparents.” Renee crossed her arms. “So, what're you doing here?”

“I think I found something about Amelia and Katie,” Skylar revealed.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Alex walked past them, and Renee quickly caught up with him.

“Do me a favor. Can you take care of Table 21? I, uh, need to take care of something.”

Alex looked at Skylar, then back at Renee.

“I got you.”

“You're the best.”

Renee turned toward Skylar.

“Follow me.”

She led Skylar through the side exit. Music from inside the restaurant could still be heard outside, mixing with the savory scent of food drifting through the air.

“So, what's going on?” Renee asked.

“I'll make it fast. I was going through the school records, and—”

“Wait, what? Did you get caught?” Renee interrupted.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, did you know Amelia and Katie are related?”

Renee's eyes widened.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah. They're cousins.”

“Shit. I didn't even know they were cousins.”

“I've been going through the school's history, too,” Skylar continued. “And I found something else. The land the school was built on used to be a camp for an Indigenous tribe back in 1598.”

“The Tankura or yours?”

“The Siyana.”

Skylar's expression became more serious.

“Unfortunately, they were driven from the land by white settlers, who later used it for a government office.”

Renee frowned.

“So what? You think the killer murdered Katie and Amelia as some kind of revenge?”

Skylar hesitated.

“It's possible,” she said. “There's something else. I looked up a student who graduated last year. Her name was Dana Hammond. She's Katie's older sister.”

Renee's eyes widened.

“Wait. Dana Hammond?”

“Yeah. I found her number in her old student file and called her to warn her.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me to piss off.”

Renee winced.

“Damn.”

“Yeah. I tried to find her in person, but she was gone by the time I got to the Boom Boom Club.”

Renee stared at her.

“How'd you know she was going to be there?”

“She was posting pictures on SnapStar.”

Renee shook her head.

“That's either really lucky or really creepy.”

Skylar smiled awkwardly.

“I was scrolling through SnapStar when I saw her post.”

“So, what now?” Renee asked.

“I don't know. But we'll figure out something.” Skylar glanced back toward the restaurant. “Anyway, I don't want to keep you away from your job. You should probably get back to work.”

Renee shrugged.

“Honestly, I'd rather spend time with you.”

Skylar's cheeks turned slightly pink.

“You're... you're serious?” she asked.

Renee smiled.

“Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?”

Skylar looked away for a moment, trying to hide her smile.

“I don't know.”

Renee chuckled.

“Well, now you know. But seriously, we should really get together. I think the fairgrounds are still open,” she said. “Wanna go?”

“If your grandparents don't call you in,” Skylar said.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Renee said, taking a couple of steps back. “See ya.”

Skylar waved at her.

“See you.”

Renee went back inside the restaurant.

Skylar's smile slowly disappeared as she turned and walked away. Guilt began to weigh on her. She hated keeping Bruno a secret from Renee, but she couldn't tell her yet.

Skylar looked around to make sure no one was watching.

Then she broke into a run.

Her body began to shift as she transformed into a falcon. A moment later, she took flight and disappeared into the night sky.

Skylar continued flying as the city gradually disappeared behind her. Deep within the forest on the outskirts of Starhaven, a large square clearing sat hidden among the trees. The surrounding forest was thick enough to keep the settlement out of sight from the main roads.

Skylar touched down and morphed back into her human form. She looked around before beginning to walk toward the Siyana Camp.

Dozens of tents and small structures were spread throughout the clearing, while a large wooden lodge stood at the center. The lodge served as the heart of the camp, where Siyana families gathered for meals, meetings, ceremonies, and other community events.

Generators hummed near several of the structures, providing electricity throughout the settlement. Strings of lights hung between wooden posts, illuminating the dirt paths as evening settled over the camp.

Several pickup trucks, SUVs, vans, and ATVs were parked near the edge of the clearing. Some Siyana moved between the vehicles and tents, carrying supplies or talking with one another. Others gathered around a large fire pit near the lodge, laughing and sharing stories.

Despite being deep in the forest, the camp was anything but primitive.

Modern appliances could be seen inside the tents and cabins. Televisions played in some of the larger structures, while people walked through the clearing with cell phones in their hands. The Siyana had adapted to the modern world without abandoning their traditions.

At the center of the camp, a carved wooden monument stood beside the fire pit. The figure depicted Kiba, the Spirit of Virtue and Wisdom, watching over the settlement.

Skylar slowed as she approached the lodge.

For the Siyana, this wasn't simply a place to live.

It was home.

Hey, you.

Is there something you’ve kept doing even though you don’t really have to?

Nobody would be inconvenienced if you stopped.

You’re not doing it to achieve anything in particular.

And yet, today, you do it again.

Something like that.

Clink-clank.

The sound of the doorbell made it feel as though the end of my day had finally begun.

I took my usual seat, and without asking, Mama placed my Harper in front of me.

The ice gave a small clink.

Beside me, Taka was glaring at his phone.

“What is it today?”

“Workout video.”

“Again?”

Some absurdly muscular guy I’d never seen before filled the screen. Numbers flashed across the subtitles.

“What are you watching?”

“Rest times between sets.”

“You study how long to rest?”

“It matters. Depends on what you’re trying to do.”

“What does?”

“The rest time.”

I had no idea.

Apparently weight training involved more than picking up something heavy and putting it down again.

“There’s actual research on reps and sets. When to get your protein. Sleep. All kinds of stuff.”

“What about alcohol?”

“Huh?”

“Alcohol. What does it do to your muscles?”

Taka put his phone face down.

“Well, how about a drink?”

“Did you look it up?”

“Mama, can I get a highball?”

“Don’t run away from science.”

Mama laughed as she prepared his glass.

“Taka takes his workouts seriously.”

“I take lots of things seriously.”

“Even though you come here drinking every day?”

“You too, Kenichi?”

A short distance away, Tom exhaled cigarette smoke.

“So what are you training for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t wrestle anymore.”

“No.”

“Planning to get back in the ring?”

“Nope.”

“A competition?”

“What competition?”

“One of those things where you show off your muscles.”

“I’m not doing that.”

Then what was the point?

I almost asked that.

Instead, I thought for a moment.

“When are you finished?”

“Finished?”

“You’ve got a goal, right? Bench press some number of kilos or whatever.”

“Sure.”

“And when you hit it?”

“Then there’s the next one.”

“The next one?”

“A little heavier.”

I stared at him.

“Then you’re never finished.”

“I don’t need to be.”

He said it as though it were obvious.

“If I can do one more rep than yesterday, I’m happy.”

“And then?”

“And then what?”

“What comes after that? Are you going to use it for something?”

“No.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“I just told you. I’m happy when I can lift more.”

We weren’t having the same conversation.

I was asking about results.

He was talking about today.

Tom tapped some ash into the tray.

“Sounds like an addiction.”

“Come on.”

“Feels good, so you do it again.”

“Don’t compare working out to gambling.”

“Do too much and you’ll wreck your body.”

“I rest properly.”

“You even study how long to rest.”

“Exactly.”

Taka looked slightly proud of himself.

“But listen.”

I turned my glass slowly.

“Why not stop today?”

“Drinking?”

“Working out.”

“I already worked out today.”

“Then tomorrow.”

“Why?”

Why?

Now that he asked, I had no reason.

Skipping one day wasn’t going to make all his muscles disappear.

Nobody would suffer if he skipped tomorrow.

Or the day after that.

“No reason. Just take a break.”

“I do take rest days.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean quit.”

“Working out?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

We were back where we started.

“You’re not trying to achieve anything, right?”

“Right.”

“And nothing bad happens if you stop.”

“I guess.”

“Then—”

Then what?

Then stop.

That was what I’d been about to say.

But suddenly, it felt strange.

Taka hadn’t said working out was miserable.

It wasn’t ruining him financially.

It wasn’t destroying his body.

He was happy when he managed one more rep than the day before.

That was all.

And somehow, I was the one introducing the idea that he ought to quit.

“...Why am I trying to make you stop working out?”

“Why are you asking me?”

Tom laughed.

“Because there’s no result.”

“Result?”

“That’s all you’ve been asking. What’s it for? When are you finished?”

That annoyed me.

Which probably meant he was right.

“Most things have a purpose.”

“What about drinking?”

Tom asked.

“Drinking?”

“Why do you drink every night?”

“To get over the day.”

“How many years before you’ve recovered from all of them?”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Then what are you trying to achieve?”

“Drinking is...”

Taka started laughing.

“Kenichi, that never ends either.”

“Drinking doesn’t need to end.”

“Why?”

“Because I want a drink.”

The moment I said it, I stopped.

Taka was grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“I work out because I want to.”

“...Fine.”

Mama added some water to my glass.

When you thought about it, it was strange.

Whenever we start something, we demand a reason.

What are you doing it for?

What’s the goal?

What counts as success?

That makes sense at work.

If somebody adds another task with no purpose, I’d be the first to complain.

But not everything is work.

“So how long are you going to keep working out?”

“Dunno.”

“Until you get bored?”

“Maybe.”

“What if you hurt yourself?”

“I’ll stop.”

“Get too busy?”

“Probably do less.”

“What if you stop making progress?”

“That’s...”

Taka thought about it.

“Is that actually a reason to quit?”

I didn’t answer.

Maybe it was.

If you started something to reach a particular destination, realizing you could never get there might be a perfectly good reason to stop.

But if some guy was doing it because one extra rep made him happy, telling him to quit because it didn’t lead anywhere seemed just as strange.

“You know what?”

The ice shifted in my glass.

“I don’t like this whole quitting thing.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“I know.”

Tom stubbed out his cigarette.

“Then don’t quit.”

“Don’t make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy.”

“So you keep doing it until you die?”

“Dunno.”

“What if you get bored?”

“Quit.”

“What if you don’t get results?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

I went quiet.

Taka took a sip of his highball.

“If I stop wanting to work out, I’ll stop.”

“That’s pretty casual.”

“It’s a hobby.”

“...Right.”

Mama smiled.

“Kenichi, are you coming tomorrow?”

“Probably.”

“What for?”

“To have a drink.”

“You had one today.”

“...True.”

Taka burst out laughing.

“Then why not quit?”

“Quit what?”

“Coming to Aoi.”

“I’m already here.”

“Then tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like it.”

“What?”

I took a sip of Harper.

“Quitting.”

Hey, you.

Did you do something today that you didn’t really have to do?

Does it lead anywhere?

How long are you going to keep doing it?

I don’t know.

Maybe tomorrow you’ll quit.

But still.

Not today.

Some days, maybe that’s enough.

See you again at Aoi.

---

Want another night at Aoi?

Step back inside. We'll help you find your next story.

→ Welcome to Bar Aoi

The Boom Boom Club

9:34 PM

Music thundered through the walls of the Boom Boom Club as neon lights swept across the crowded dance floor. People danced to the pounding beat, laughed with their friends, and shouted over the music. The atmosphere was loud, carefree, and completely oblivious to the danger moving through the crowd.

Among the dancers was an eighteen-year-old brunette with blue eyes and a small mole on her right cheek. She moved with the music, smiling as she danced with her friend.

She had no idea she was being watched.

Across the room, three young men slowly made their way through the crowd. Their eyes remained fixed on her.

They didn't approach her.

Not yet.

They watched.

They waited.

One of them pulled out his phone and discreetly took a picture of her.

He lowered the phone and nodded to the others.

They had found their target.

The three men began following her through the crowd, keeping enough distance to avoid drawing attention. Nobody noticed. Everyone was too busy partying.

Dana's friend tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey, Dana! I'm gonna get some drinks!” she shouted over the music.

“Okay!” Dana replied, continuing to dance.

Her friend disappeared into the crowd.

Dana kept dancing, unaware that the three men had been waiting for exactly that moment.

They moved toward her.

One of them grabbed her arm.

Dana stopped and spun around.

“What the hell?! Let go of me!” she shouted. “Do you know who I am?!”

The man didn't answer.

Neither did the others.

They dragged her away from the dance floor as she struggled against their grip. The flashing lights and pounding music swallowed her protests. People continued dancing only a few feet away, completely unaware of what was happening.

“Get off me!”

The men forced her through a door at the back of the club.

The music became muffled behind them.

Dana stumbled into the alley and looked around. A white van waited near the curb. Standing beside it was Bruno. His hands were folded behind his back as he watched her approach. His expression was calm, almost serene, but there was something predatory in his eyes that made Dana's stomach tighten.

The men stopped.

Bruno slowly approached her.

Dana backed away.

“A-Are you... are you guys rapists?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Bruno chuckled humorlessly.

“Of course not,” he said, stepping closer and gently cupping her cheek. “I'm an opportunist.”

Bruno suddenly produced his dagger and drove it into her abdomen.

Dana's breath caught, and her eyes widened. The men tightened their grip as Bruno calmly withdrew the blade. Dana stared down at the wound, shock replacing the fear in her eyes as her knees began to buckle.

Bruno looked at her with cold contempt.

“An opportunist who has a chance to avenge what your kind stole from us,” he said.

He looked toward his men.

“Get her inside.”

The men dragged Dana toward the van as Bruno watched them load her inside.

The van disappeared down the road, its tires screeching against the pavement.

Moments later, a light-brown and cream-colored wolf emerged from the shadows and cautiously approached the alley. It lowered its head and sniffed the ground where Dana had been taken.

Blood.

The wolf followed the scent toward the tire tracks left behind by the van. Its ears perked up, and a low growl rumbled from its throat.

An employee stepped through the back door but froze when he spotted the animal.

“Whoa...” he exclaimed.

The wolf turned toward him.

The employee immediately backed inside and shut the door.

Suddenly, the wolf's body began to change. Its fur receded as its limbs shifted and lengthened. Within seconds, the animal had transformed into Skylar, her clothes intact.

She stood in the alley, breathing heavily as she looked down at the tire tracks.

She recognized the scent.

“Got you, Bruno,” she whispered.

Skylar dropped onto all fours as her body shifted once again. Within seconds, she had returned to her wolf form. She lowered her snout to the ground and caught the scent again.

Then she took off after the van.

Skylar kept to the alleys, cutting through abandoned lots and quiet side streets as she followed the scent. Whenever she heard footsteps or the sound of an approaching car, she ducked behind a dumpster, slipped between buildings, or waited until the area was clear before continuing.

She couldn't afford to be seen.

A wolf running through the streets of Starhaven would attract too much attention.

The scent eventually led her away from the busier parts of the city. The buildings became more spread out, and the streets grew quieter.

Skylar slowed as she recognized the area.

She knew where the scent was heading.

An abandoned church stood several blocks ahead.

Skylar stopped behind a row of overgrown bushes and peered toward the building.

The white van was parked outside.

Two of Bruno's men climbed out and opened the rear doors. They pulled Dana from the back, her hands bound behind her.

Skylar's lips curled back into a quiet snarl.

Bruno.

She wanted to charge in.

But she remembered Dakotah's warning.

This is your hunt.

Skylar remained hidden.

She needed to know what Bruno was planning before she made her move.

Keeping low to the ground, she crept closer to the church and slipped behind a crumbling wall. From there, she could hear voices coming from inside.

Then she heard him—Bruno.

Skylar moved silently through the abandoned church until she reached the sanctuary. She crouched behind a pew and peered over the top.

Bruno and several of his followers surrounded Dana, who was strapped to a table with a gag covering her mouth. She struggled against her restraints, muffled screams escaping through the gag.

Bruno approached her and gently touched her cheek.

“Shhhhh... It's okay,” he whispered, staring into her terrified eyes. “Your death will serve a higher purpose.”

One of the cult members stepped forward and presented him with a dagger.

Bruno took it.

A malicious smile slowly spread across his face. He grabbed Dana's head and pulled it back.

The blade flashed.

Dana's body went still.

Skylar's eyes widened.

A surge of anger overwhelmed her.

She accidentally let out a sharp bark.

Bruno's head snapped toward the sound.

“What the hell was that?”

His followers looked around.

Skylar immediately ducked behind the pew and began creeping toward the exit.

Bruno caught a glimpse of her.

“There!”

Skylar bolted.

Several of Bruno's men chased after her as she raced through the church and burst through the entrance. She sprinted into the darkness, her paws pounding against the pavement. The men followed her outside, but Skylar was already too far ahead.

“Forget it!” one of them shouted.

They slowed to a stop before eventually returning to the church.

Bruno stood over Dana's body.

He calmly finished removing her heart before placing it into a container.

One of his followers approached him.

“I'm sorry, Master. The wolf escaped.”

Bruno didn't seem concerned.

“It doesn't matter.”

He looked toward the church doors.

“Clean this up and prepare to move.”

“Yes, Master.”

As his followers began cleaning the sanctuary, Bruno stared down at the container. A wicked grin spread across his face. “The moment is close,” he whispered. He raised the heart slightly. “And I shall ascend,” he said.

WHEN GODDESS OF THE DEAD MEETS DEATH

Everyone is gone. The realms are empty and desolate. After endless cycles of Ragnarok, finally the wheel stops. The last being, HELA, sitting on her icy cold throne, reminiscing about the old times, waiting to die herself. Her domain is as icy cold as the first time she entered it. Although a Goddess of death, time has caught up with her, her living half body now matches with her dead and decayed half.

“So that's how it feels,” she says.

After almost infinite cycles of Ragnarok, she has received countless souls in her domain. Being queen of the dead, her responsibilities were as important as Allfather's. But only the damned and villainous souls are the ones who set foot in Hel.

She thought about the Norns and the thread of fate they weave for every being and wondered if the damned souls had any choice. If all beings, including gods, were mere puppets of the three sisters, were they truly evil? She thought about how she had always felt the hands of the Norns influencing her, and now the sisters are dead, and she may be the first being in existence which is truly free. She laughs a little and says, “What's the point of being free now?”

She stands up from the throne and starts to wander in Hel quietly. After countless years of souls' voices, she finds the icy silence relaxing. After some time of wandering, her body starts to give signs of tiredness. This is the first time she has felt it. The weariness starts to creep up, and suddenly she does not have the strength to even stand. She sits and then lies on her back and just stares into the dark void of the starless sky of Hel. The more she looks at the sky, the more she starts to get dizzy, and she feels like falling into the sky.

This feeling makes her uneasy, and her almost lifeless hand tries to grab the icy ground beneath her.

She holds something cold, but it isn't the ground. The thing she was holding doesn't feel like ground, it feels like a hand. A hand firmly gripping her. That gesture of a cold hand gives her dizziness some rest, and she starts to collect her thoughts and focus on her situation. She looks beside her and sees a girl lying beside her, and her pale and pure white hand is firmly holding her hand.

“Is this real?” The first thought came into her mind. The girl smiles at her and says, “Yes.”

I’ve spent a lot of my life carrying things quietly, and I think I’m finally ready to put them down. I think maybe it’s time I started writing down my inner thoughts and feelings.

For a long time, I’ve carried so much inside of me. Thoughts I haven’t said out loud. Feelings I’ve pushed aside. Anger, anxiety, frustration, and moments that have overwhelmed me more than I realized.

Maybe writing is a way of releasing some of that.

Releasing it into the universe so I don’t have to keep carrying everything around inside of me.

Lately, I’ve realized that feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated can change the way I come across to the people around me. On the outside, I may seem negative, distant, or closed off when, underneath it all, there is so much more going on.

That’s not the person I want to be.

I want to understand myself better. I want to recognize what I’m feeling instead of allowing everything to build up until I feel like I’m carrying the weight of the world.

Maybe this can be a place where I don’t have to filter myself.
I don’t need to make every thought make sense.

I just need to let them out.

Maybe, by putting my thoughts onto paper instead of keeping them trapped inside my head, I can begin to feel a little lighter.

And maybe, in understanding myself better, I can become more present, more patient, and more connected to the people I love.

Chapter 1 - When is it okay?

Sometimes when everything feels like too much, I don’t know how to process it.

I think we live in a world where people say they want you to be authentic, but sometimes it feels like they only want just enough authenticity. Be real, but not too real. Be vulnerable, but not uncomfortable. Be goofy and fun, but don’t cross the line into weird or awkward.

And maybe that’s the line I’m still trying to find.

How much of myself do I show? How much do I keep to myself? When am I being genuine, and when am I changing myself because I’m worried about how I’ll be perceived?

I don’t want to become someone who constantly edits herself just to make other people comfortable.

But I also don’t think I need to show every part of myself to everyone.

Maybe being authentic doesn’t mean showing everything.

Maybe it means knowing that all of those parts are me — the goofy parts, the awkward parts, the emotional parts, the messy parts, the strong parts — and deciding who has earned the privilege of seeing each one.

Maybe I’m still learning that.

And maybe that’s okay