kyndaris

[kyndaris]

Chains of Oppression

By the time this blog post goes up, the US election will be done and dusted. The votes will have been tallied and we will know if the last great bastion for Western democracy will have fallen for the lies of a burgeoning billionaire autocrat or if the people will have chosen to forge a new path forward with Kamala Harris at the helm. Should it be the former, there will be many who fear the implementation of the so called Project 2025, which already looks like a page out of the communist playbook (when it comes to China and the USSR), and is certainly a manifesto for any would be dictator.

In Atlas Fallen: Reign of Sand, you play as one of the Unnamed - a lowly slave of the highly religious totalitarian regime that dominates the world of Atlas. Like manty before it, at least in the real world, there is a hierarchy. At the top sits Thelos, the God of the world, with the Enlightened - religious zealots (and who have the most power) sitting just below. Then come the nobles, the merchants, the farmers and finally the Unnamed. And much like the slaves of yesteryear, the Unnamed are considered disposable tools that none would care for if they were killed.

One day, as part of an Essence caravan, two of your fellow Unnamed go missing. Fearing for their lives, you volunteer to head out of camp to search for them. Despite the threats of wraiths in the area. These wraiths, it should be known, are creatures born out of sand and utterly vicious. They are also a means for Thelos to control the movement of humans in his rigid order based society.

It isn't long, however, before your character stumbles upon a powerful gauntlet. It bonds with you, granting the playable character the ability to double jump, dash through the air and summon forth sand weapons to do battle.

As the Gauntlet Bearer, the player character rises to become the saviour of the oppressed and downtrodden. Along the way, they also uncover the secrets of the artefact they now wield, as well as come to learn more about the mysterious entity tied to it: Nyaal.

From a story perspective, Atlas Fallen retreads old familiar ground with its focus on the dichotomy between order and chaos. Thelos, with his panopticon-esque Watcher floating in the background, represents order. Nyaal, on the other hand, represents chaos and freewill. Much like Assassin's Creed and many other games that have explored similar themes, the playable character must throw off the chains suppressing humanity. To do this, they must target the ones in power with the help of a handful of allies. In this case, it is the 1000 Year Queen, so named after becoming Thelos' puppet in ruling the humans. Throw in some God-slaying and you have Atlas Fallen in a nutshell.

What I liked about the Reign of Sand downloadable content (which was free), is that it added additional context to the world of Atlas. While Thelos is still the antagonist of the series, through the trek through the Forgotten Realms in Source, we also learn Nyaal also had a hand in shaping the Atlas we encounter - including providing humans with Essence stones and the creation of the Wraiths. And though Nyaal only wished the best for the fledgling human race, they were also blind to ramifications of their actions. Something in which they must reckon with as they do battle with their own shadow.

It just goes to show that while strict and total control is untenable, unfettered freedom can also bring out the worst in our kind. Just look at the state of the world now with the war in the Middle East. Nor should we forget how Russia invaded Ukraine.

Then, of course, there are the infamous Twitter wars as public outrage takes new form. People can be cancelled because of one comment from a decade ago, films and movies are labelled 'woke' because a woman is a main character, and online communities are split into various tribal entities. There is no longer any nuance in the world. A centrist is considered part of the problem. And even when you don't try to insert politics into your content, you will be decried as a grifter playing both sides of the political spectrum.

It's enough for this lowly blogger to want to hit reset on the entire human race. A sentiment which is shared by many of the Earth-Trisolaris Organisation in the science-fiction novel: The Three-Body Problem (a novel I'm reading right now at time of writing up this post).

Gameplay-wise, Atlas Fallen brings in a traversal system that felt fun and refreshing. It also helped speed up the slow slog of running from one part of the map to another like another game I could name.

Then, of course, there is the combat. The Gauntlet Bearer can mix and match three different styles of weapons: the axe/ hammer, dust whip and a pair of knuckledusters. While all are viable depending on playstyle, I favoured using the axe/hammer with the dust whip because of the range it allowed me. Slotting in the essence stones that helped maximise my attacks, I was near unstoppable in taking down the enemies that crossed my path.

What was a little bit different, I found, was how player character level was tied to the armour one found. The game only has a maximum level of 11, which can only be reached by upgrading the armour one receives through the use of Essence. Additionally, by upgrading armour, one receives perks to put into passive upgrades including the ability to get more tribute (the currency within the game), essence, or having more momentum to pull off special attacks. These all blended quite well with each other although I didn't feel much need to experiment once I'd found my favourites.

Atlas Fallen: Reign of Sand from developer Deck 13 is not a triple-A title. The controls are a little floaty and the story isn't something I would write home to. And yet, I did find myself enjoying the time I spent skimming across the sands and fighting off huge sand monsters. So many games coming out in the last few years have focused on being bigger than ever with little to no experimentation. But I have found the ones that stick in my mind are those trying to break the mould by telling their own fun little story. What's more, they don't try to follow trends by trying to have a huge sprawling open world or have huge budgets that can only be sustained through excessive monetisation of in-game items.

So, here's to more experimental AA games!

After all, when major game developers (and by extension, publishers) begin to crumble, they'll be the ones picking up the slack with fresh ideas and new IP. And maybe we can return to a time when games weren't politically weaponised. Or are seen by big corporations as a means to pad out their bottom line.

Time will tell who will win out when it comes to free will or oppression; anarchy and security.

[kyndaris]

Legends and Lattes

While you, dear reader, may initially think this post is about Travis Baldree's novel of the same name, I am here to quickly disabuse you of that notion. In fact, I shall do you one better and admit I have yet to even read the book sitting on my shelf, begging to be read. Heck, I even bought the prequel not too long ago: Bookshops and Bonedust. And before you say anything, dear reader, I will get to it.

Eventually.

It just so happens my blog is not solely a book blog. Nor am I a BookTuber/ Booktoker by day or by night. So, you know, it's very understandable why I've not read through this, assumedly masterpiece of a tale. Plus, I also have a lot of other hobbies like badminton, videogames and my own actual writing. All of which detract from my reading time.

Then, of course, there's my dating life, which, albeit is slowing down because I've mostly given up on men. And well, the women are certainly not biting as often.

What's a 32-year-old supposed to do except pine for the love of a fictional character? Karlach, I'm looking at you for when I finally start playing Baldur's Gate 3.

As you've no doubt picked up on, this blog is yet another entry into my forays of dating. This time round, I met up with a woman (third time's the charm, maybe? We're still chatting on the occasion although the topic has shifted into more a creative enterprise). It started with her liking one of my Hinge prompts, and after thoroughly checking her profile (she had actually cropped up in a few of my recommends previously), I thought I would do her the courtesy of matching.

It was followed by a brief conversation on mythology before the two of us went down the tabletop role-playing game route where we both tried, and failed, at playing grifters stealing personal information. Now we're on a journey to stop the Goblin King. The dastardly creature has stolen her identity, leaving naught but an empty vault of where it should be. And because of that, I, the handsome rogue in this situation, must continue masquerading as a Nigerian Prince as we go forth to acquire a magical sword with the ability to track goblins.

So far, we've made it to a small town called Bree. Although we did try to ride towards Bag's End, a number of black riders passed us by and Keyleth - the codename I've decided to use in this instance to refer to my date - was insistent we put a stop to their evil plans. Not that we know they're evil.

They simply have business with a halfling and are being very difficult about anyone who might be in their way.

As you can see, dear reader, we are most assuredly not in Kansas anymore.

That said, we did arrange to meet at a cafe halfway between where we live in what is fittingly named The Shire for Sydneysiders like me. It should be noted that unlike me, Keyleth does not live in Sydney. Rather, she is situated in the coastal city of Wollongong. You'll remember it as a place I visited not too long ago with a group of friends as we tackled a dastardly difficult escape room.

At the time, though, Keyleth's path and mine had not yet crossed. A shame, truly, since there are quite a few choice burger places in Wollongong we could potentially visit if I didn't mind the long drive down.

The cafe was named 7th Heaven. To my dismay, there was no raven-haired bartender or a blond courier. What it did have were a number of brunch options such as my go-to meal in almost every situation: Eggs Benedict with a side of smoked salmon. Keyleth ordered a milkshake and Eggs on Toast, adding on top of it a rasher or two of bacon and some delectable avocado.

By the end, though, she'd barely touched it - having eaten only one piece of bread and egg, some bacon and hardly any of the avocado.

Keyleth was the first to arrive - most probably due to the limited number of trains and because she had further to travel. I arrived just shy of the appointed time at 10. When I arrived, I had not quite expected the shock of dyed red hair to greet me. After all, in all her previous photos - both on Hinge and on Whatsapp - Keyleth had sported long blonde hair.

Still, she was keen to give me a hug, though I was quick to advise I wasn't much of a hugger. Or even a physical touch kinda gal. Yes, I'm more willing to accept it from a woman but it's not something I tend to do. And it's certainly not one of my key love languages.

Once I had sat down, we chatted idly about how our week had gone. After putting in our order, we began the painstaking process of learning a little more of the other. Keyleth learned I was an only child, whereas I learned she had a sister. Some of our family dynamics were talked about before we moved to more dangerous topics: like my favourite musical and whether or not I am actually a theatre kid (spoiler alert, I am not. Yes, I've been to four musicals in the last four months but those are baby numbers compared to the actual musical nerds out there. Or so I hope).

We also chatted about the weird role-playing experience unfolding on our messages, with Keyleth confirming the Goblin King was none other than David Bowie from Labyrinth.

Then, of course, we also talked a little about our dating experiences. Given I was asexual and she was demisexual, it seemed prudent for us to address the very big elephant in the room of what an actual relationship would be like. Both of us were a little uneasy about jumping immediately jumping into relationships as we required time to get to know the people we would be committing a significant portion of time with. Lust is certainly not a thing either of us experienced at first sight. And in order to catch feels, a strong emotional connection must be created first.

I, certainly, have not been in an actual relationship of significance with another. At least in the romantic sense. I do like to think I have many meaningful friendships with the people in my life though it's anyone's guess if they agree. More than likely, they find me egregious or too sardonic for their tastes (in fact, I recently had a nineteen-year-old university student at my work place call me epigrammatic!)

We also bonded over how difficult it was to date cisgender men!

But while the conversation was invigorating, our brunch date did slowly come to an end. Given the immediate surroundings didn't have any other interesting diversion, we paid for our meals and headed back to the local train station. A little unfortunate but sometimes that is how the cookie crumbles.

After all, it would be the height of rudeness to remain at a table for several hours afterwards when all our food was taken away.

Will there be another date with Keyleth? I'm not quite sure. Our conversations were pretty easy-going, flowing from one topic to another.

It was certainly better than the date I had with Tip Top.

As always, time will tell if anything will come of it, but I'm hopeful in obtaining a new friend if nothing romantic blossoms from the encounter. Of course, there is still Dikottir.

And while we haven't exactly had a sixth date/ meet-up, both of us will have gone to PAX in Melbourne by the time this blog post goes up. So, keep your eyes peeled for that riveting entry. Or not.

In the words of the founder of feminism himself, Rhysand, "It's your choice, Feyre darling."

As an aside, I can't say for sure if that's an actual quote from the book but it certainly feels like something he would say. On that note, I need to stop reading books like ACOTAR. I mean, it's no Fourth Wing, so I'm glad for that. But it's definitely not the height of fantasy literature. I was hoping for.

Anyways, THIS WAS ANOTHER EPISODE OF DATING 2.0! WILL A ROSE BE FINALLY AWARDED TO A SUITABLE SUITOR? YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL WE COME BACK FOR THE NEXT UPDATE!

And now, back to the weather!

[kyndaris]

The Hylian Grind

My first few hours in Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom left much to be desired. At first, I couldn't quite see the appeal of the sequel to Breath of the Wild (and unlike those who played it on Switch, I played and finished the game on the ill-fated Wii U). It seemed like more of the same except, of course, with a slightly different set of tools on Link's belt. Weapons still broke frequently and he was severely underpowered against most enemies in the world save the humble bokoblin.

But, much like how I tackled the Talus enemies in the game, something shifted and I began enjoying it a bit more. Was it the fact I now had semi-decent weapons or materials to fuse Link's decaying weapons to? Maybe it was the accumulation of hearts to serve as a buffer against the damage my armour was failing to cushion.

Or, perhaps I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, a la Sorrengail's assertions. Which, in my estimation, is a little extreme. After all, I'm not being held prisoner by Tears of the Kingdom. I can put it aside at any time. I...just...simply choose not to (but also because I like to finish the games I play unless I completely don't click with them - see Soul Sacrifice on the PlayStation Vita or Codename: STEAM).

Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom released in 2023 to critical acclaim. However, unlike many others, I was unable to scrap together a decent enough portion of time to put a dent in the massive game. After all, I was still drowning in many other releases and desperately trying to play catch-up.

Come August 2024, though, and I was ready to take on saving Hyrule from Ganondorf. Little did I know, the game would end up sucking up hundreds of hours and it would not be until the end of September that I'd be able to complete it.

Although, given my completionist tendencies, I should have known better when I finally descended from the the Great Sky Island and began my trek to the Rito village in Hebra.

From a story perspective, Tears of the Kingdom keeps it simple. The opening moments see Link and Zelda descending down into the depths of Hyrule Castle. There, they stumble upon a ruins containing several murals that tell of a great war before their time. It isn't long before they find the desiccated body of an ancient creature. When Zelda reaches out to it, and the secret stone it holds (should have honestly named them sacred stones but maybe they didn't want to have it confused with Fire Emblem), the creature wakes up and attacks the two with its corrupting red tendrils. In a bid to protect Zelda, Link's right arm is sucked dry of vitality. Worse, the Master Sword is damaged beyond repair.

Before Zelda and Link can even think to flee, the ground beneath Zelda plunges down and whilst the rest of Hyrule Castle is sent skywards. Though Link tries valiantly to reach for his princess, Zelda plummets into the depths before vanishing in a flash of golden light. Before Link falls to his doom, however, he is saved by a floating sentient arm. Losing consciousness soon afterwards, Link awakens on a floating island, his withered right arm replaced.

How such a thing is possible, we will never know. It simply does. We'll call it Zonai magic for now. But, given this is a Zelda game, many of the larger mysteries of the world will remain unanswered. Rather, Link is focused on simply finding Zelda and saving Hyrule (or what remains of it) from the encroaching threat of the Demon King (seriously, they haven't even rebuilt the castle and the people are scattered all across the map. These people don't even have a standing army!)

Link's first order of business is heading to Hyrule Castle before Purah, a Sheikah descendant, sends Link out to figure out the regional phenomena plaguing the rest of Hyrule. It is only after Link manages to resolve the issues plaguing the Rito, Gorons, Gerudo and the Zora - collecting more secret stones along the way and unlocking the power of the elemental sages - that Link is then requested to find the Fifth Sage.

With Mineru at his side, Link is directed to find the Master Sword to finally banish the darkness that is Ganondorf.

Along the way, Link must traverse the width and breadth of Hyrule. I know I certainly did in my playthrough as I unlocked each of the Skyview Towers and committed myself to completing all the shrines scattered across the world.

Then, of course, there were the Dragon Tears, or, in this case, the titular Tears of the Kingdom. Visiting each of the new glyphs that had suddenly cropped up around Hyrule, Link was able to relive Zelda's memories from the time she had vanished in a shower of golden light.

Having taken the secret stone, Zelda travelled back in time to the very beginning of Hyrule. There, she befriended King Rauru and his wife, Queen Sonia. It wasn't long before she, too, had to contend with Ganondorf and his quest for more power - and thus shedding some backstory to the enigmatic villain found underneath Hyrule Castle.

Of course, besides a thirst for power, there isn't much to Ganondorf's character. His is not a sympathetic story of a downtrodden Gerudo boy who struggled to become king. And frankly, it's enough. Although why he wants to take over Hyrule is anyone's guess given how many of the Hylians, Gerudo, Zora, Gorans and the Rito are still struggling to rebuild their once great civilisations following the Calamity.

Heck, their current societies aren't even very advanced except for the the Purah Pad (which allows Link to teleport to any shrines or Skyview Tower).

From a gameplay perspective, there is little that has been changed from Breath of the Wild. Link has shields, bows and a myriad of weapons at his disposal. Just like the last game, they will break after frequent use - an annoying design decision but at least was explained in the narrative this time round.

Then, of course, there's the new suite of powers Link has at his disposal like UltraHand, Fuse, Ascend and Recall.

And here, I believe, it is important to return to my Battle Talus analogy. You see, when I first started playing Tears of the Kingdom, I struggled to take on the Battle Talus in a meaningful way although I was always determined to do so. The Battle Talus, fortunately, had several platforms on its shoulders. Once the bokoblins were killed, it was simply a matter of getting on to the platform.

My problem, of course, was how?

Like an idiot, I started the game by trying to lift myself higher by creating fire. This worked for a time, although Link still had to dodge all the boulders thrown his way as one unlucky shot would kill him instantly.

Unfortunately, starting a fire meant I could only take these creatures on in places with burnable material. Like grass.

Up in the Hebra mountains, there wasn't as much available.

Of course, that was when I remembered I had a slew of special powers I could use. The first one that came to my mind was Ascend. Once the Battle Talus had thrown its boulders, I could run up close to it and Ascend up to where its weak point was located.

This also worked for a time. Until I encountered the other Talus in the game: Frost, Fire and Stone Talus. None of these creatures had platforms and climbing up them whilst they were trying to actively kill Link was not an easy task.

And that was when it finally clicked.

Link had the ability to recall objects and send them back from whence they came. And it was this that turned out to be the key in taking down the Talus minibosses in the area.

Should I have kicked myself for taking so long to figuring out the best way to take down these creatures? Probably. But given I was playing through the game blind and had found alternative (albeit less effective) ways of taking them down, it was certainly an adventure. One that remains in my mind because of how challenging I initially found them.

Beyond these tools, Link can also sneak around, flurry rush and parry (although without the guardian death beams to worry about, I tend to dodge more). It's nothing overtly complicated from a combat perspective.

What is different is the player's approach to problem solving. Which, with Ultrahand and Ascend, is a lot easier because should one have the materials on hand, it's quite simple to brute force various answers instead of struggling to find the one intended by the developers. For example, if you simply can't get the timing just right to leap off a moving minecart to reach the ledge above you, why not simply tape together blocks of cooled lava to create an unwieldy bridge you can simply run across?

It is this flexibility that is Tears of the Kingdom's greatest strength. Yes, the weapon breaking is tedious and the cooking is somewhat novel at the start, but it's the possibilities of what one can create to solve their immediate problems that enthralled me. I mean, I'll never be able to create the complex contraptions others have to deal with mobs in as quick a farmer as possible to farm materials for crafting, but I've been able to navigate my way around Hyrule well enough to enjoy the time I've spent in it.

Were I to give it a score, I'd give this game a solid 7.5 out of 10. There are some mechanics here I've enjoyed but I'm also fatigued by the very large nature of the open-world.

In fact, much of the music never did stand out to me. Most of my adventure around Hyrule also involved listening to video essays from the likes of Shanspeare, Tara Mooknee and Haley Whipjack (as she recapped Season 4 of Once Upon a Time) as a means to distract myself from the very real grind Tears of the Kingdom requires to explore each nook and cranny.

It probably didn't help that this was the sequel to the beloved Breath of the Wild, which was the very first open-world Zelda game. And because of that, despite adding in the depths and the sky islands to explore, the awe I found in the first game was no longer present. I'd already been to Hyrule and saved it.

Now I had to do it again but with additional places to explore? Hylia, no!

And, let's be real, who, in this day and age, has the time to hunt for 1,000 korok seeds? Certainly not me. I didn't even reach a fifth of the total number!

All in all, Tears of the Kingdom is a good game. A great game, even. But for me, it simply didn't quite reach the heights of what I've come to expect from video games. And that, dear reader, is certainly an opinion on the internet. One from a humble blogger who has played a large variety of games over the many years of her existence.

But it is important to note that my opinion is by no means, the definitive stance on the game. Sorrengail, I hope you'll read this one day and realise I wasn't taken hostage! Despite its best attempts, I wasn't entirely swayed to its side.

But also, FINISH THE GAME!

As for bleachpanda, FINISH Final Fantasy XV, YOU COWARD!

[kyndaris]

Celebrating Legacy

Music is an important element in most people's lives. They keep us entertained during long car rides, or can serve to denote important scenes as the orchestra sweeps in during an epic moment during a movie or a video game. Many can recall iconic soundtracks or albums that have defined moments in their lives. I know I have certainly appreciated many a composer from Hans Zimmer to Inon Zur, and even Jeremy Soule. But there is one composer who sits above the rest when it comes to iconic pieces in a long-running video game franchise. And that is none other than Nobuo Uematsu.

So, when I read on Facebook that he was coming to Sydney to do a show with his conTIKI band, I had to purchase tickets. And I harped on bleachpanda to get them as soon as possible.

The day of the event came: 8 September 2024. After a quick dinner nearby, bleachpanda and I headed for Sydney's State Theatre along with another one of my friends (although he was seated on the mezzanine level as he'd bought his ticket separately and wanted to be seated up close and personal). In, we went, and watched in amazement as all the seats were taken up by others.

Now that I think on it, this should not have surprised me. The show, only featuring on a single day, had long been sold out. I would know, of course, because after watching Hamilton right before my birthday, I'd informed Sorrengail Nobuo Uematsu would be coming to Sydney and she'd tried to see if tickets were still available - so she could pay obeisance to the man who wrote such iconic music that is even now celebrated in the Distant Worlds and A New World concerts that tour around the world (except Australia - please come back and play the Final Fantasy VII: Rebirth soundtrack for us!).

As 7:30 hit, the lights in the theatre dimmed and Nobuo Uematsu emerged on stage. He settled down at his keyboard, outfitted with a laptop, and he began to play. It felt almost intimate, sitting there, a face in the crowd. As if we had been drawn into his private garage or studio where he might compose his music.

In quick succession, he played through modulated versions of the Opening - Bombing Mission from Final Fantasy VII and Blue Fields from Final Fantasy VIII. After a quick introduction where he asked if members of the audience knew of his work, he wondered if we would like to listen to more iconic Final Fantasy music, this time from some of the older games.

Of course, being such a big fan of the Final Fantasy franchise who has enjoyed even the musical rhythm game spin-offs, the other modular pieces were still identifiable to me. The first one he played was from Final Fantasy III: Legend of the Eternal Wind. He then followed this up with the iconic Clash on the Big Bridge from Final Fantasy V. But, let's be honest, who could forget Gilgamesh's iconic theme and which has featured again and again in different games.

With those two pieces done, Uematsu introduced a talented voice actress to the stage. She was there to narrate three stories, as well as voice each of the characters. All of the stories were accompanied by a video shown on the big projector screen in the middle of the stage. And every time, Uematsu would pull out a piece of paper that said: Play the video, Rebekah!

It even became a bit of a running gag throughout the show. Especially when the video for the first story stuttered a little and there was some banter between Uematsu and the voice actress regarding the technical difficulties.

But the show must go on! And poor Rebekah managed to pull through.

The first story was a boy who was out fishing. He was chatting with, I had initially assumed it was a friend, a kappa. I don't recall much of the dialogue except they were talking about a girl in town who was a little down. It ended with the boy heading back home and telling his mother about the catch.

Shinigami-kun with its jazz background music was a cute story about an apprentice Shinigami who was persuaded not to take a girl's father with the promise of a big bag of chocolates. And the third story, The Rules of the Other Side, had a fast-talking mobster fish that was seeking compensation for wrongs made to the ocean.

Just like that, the first half ended. After a brief intermission, the show saw the rest of Nobuo Uematsu's band take to the stage. These included a guitarist, percussionist and also a singer. I don't remember their names too well but a video on YouTube indicates they might be: Yasushi Yokokawa, Chihiro Fujioka, Rie Tozuka and Xiao.

All I remember from the introductions was the singer saying she was an otaku who had managed to become the vocalist for a band run by Nobuo Uematsu.

With the pleasantries out of the way, the band played through Suteki Da Ne, Melodies of Life and No Promises to Keep. All songs from the Final Fantasy franchise.

And then, because Nobuo Uematsu isn't defined by just the music he has done for Final Fantasy, he and his band played through two original songs and then a combination song with story. They were: The Child Who Came From An Egg, Oni, and Doppelganger. Suffice it to say, the two songs, with their accompanying videos, were a little surreal and impressionistic with their imagery. Especially with the koala bear headed men dancing on the sidelines.

I even wondered aloud to bleachpanda if the songs had been written when they were all on shrooms. The visuals certainly were a bit strange and almost psychedelic in nature.

Not that I'm complaining. It just seemed a little out of left-field for me. Then again, I like things to make sense.

And with the closing notes of Doppelganger, the band bowed and left the stage. The crowd cheered, hoping for an encore. After several long minutes (presumably because the band was changing into the ConTIKI show t-shirts that were being sold for $50), Uematsu emerged once more on the stage. He played an excellent rendition of To Zanarkand from Final Fantasy X before the band returned to the stage to play one of my other favourite songs: Kiss Me Goodbye - although I did find it odd considering it was the ending for Final Fantasy XII, a game Nobuo Uematsu did NOT compose. Still, it was great piece to end the night as me, bleachpanda and my other friend scurried to the train station to return home after a late night out in the city.

Was the ConTIKI show what I was hoping for? Not exactly.

Then again, it never said it would be a proper Final Fantasy concert. In fact, given it was a smaller setting, I wasn't entirely sure WHAT Nobuo Uematsu would bring to the table. Sure, his personal songs were a little strange and wacky, but given how well renowned he is as a composer, I'm sure people can offer him some leeway to do whatever he likes in his own private affairs.

The Reddit thread regarding the event, though, had a few mixed reactions from people attending. More than likely, they were expecting something a little more grand than an old guy sitting at a keyboard remixing his old pieces, but it certainly could have been much worse.

Here's hoping, though, that we DO get another Distant Worlds concert back in Australia in the not too DISTANT future.

EDIT: There was ALSO another story about a stone deity! When writing up this blog, I had the impression of four stories being told but could only remember three. BUT no, there was four.

[kyndaris]

Whole Again - Part 2

It's great fun when a short story you write ends up becoming a huge behemoth of a story. Given I'm still uploading Toymaker on my FictionPress and Wattpad (those being scattered.wind and kyndaris, respectively), though, it does seem appropriate to provide some relief through completely different stakes and characters.

That said, I've been writing up a whole new fantasy story (rather than the continuation of Lacet and Idana's adventures - even though I do have the beginning chapter in my head). Of course, whether this new fantasy story will grace FictionPress or Wattpad is something I'm still tossing up.

After all, isn't it everyone's dream to seek publication?

Time will tell if my writing abilities will get to that stage. In the meantime, enjoy the conclusion of Whole Again. Even as I try to finish Tears of the Kingdom within a reasonable timeframe.

Staring at my blank Word document, I tried once more to conjure up the words I needed to put down in order to start the essay I would need to hand in for my social studies class. Try as I might, though, I was unable to summon an iota of creativity for my literature review on Consent Culture on College Campus.

What made it worse was the fact the paper was due tomorrow.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What was wrong with me?

By now I’d usually be going through my fifth edit focusing on any misspellings or issues with tense.

Yet, somehow, time had slipped through my grasp.

And the pressure to be the excellent student I was only made my writing block worse.

Unable to face the white document in front of me, I closed my eyes and tried to reorder my thoughts into something cohesive. My fingers reached out on the keyboard, typing out word after word until I finished my first sentence. There, I stopped, pondering my next sentence even as I fought the urge to open my eyes to read what I had put down.

I knew rereading it now would only send me plummeting down into despair and I’d delete all the progress I made so far.

As the minutes ticked by, I continued in this fashion and slowly cobbled together a Frankenstein-like version of what my essay ought to be like. The only time I glanced at what I’d written was to insert references but I’d managed to tamp down on the impulse to immediately rewrite what I’d put down because it didn’t read perfect.

Sonia found me just before dinner, tapping away at my computer. It was only when the door closed behind her and when she dropped her duffle bag on the ground that I turned around, the hairs on the back of my head standing to attention at being caught unawares.

“Hey, Patsy. How you doing?” she asked, taking out her earbuds and pausing her Spotify playlist.

“Fine,” I replied, a little too tersely.

Sonia seemed to reel back from an invisible blow before heading to her side of the room. She sat down on her bed. “What are you up to?”

“Just trying to finish this essay.”

“And, how are you doing?” she asked before hastily adding, “I don’t mean to pry, of course, and you don’t have to say anything if it makes you uncomfortable. You’ve just looked stressed these last few weeks. Is it Professor Langley again?”

I debated for a moment whether or not to tell her.

Sonia had always been there for me ever since we had first met as roommates.

But whereas others couldn’t have cared less about the person they were sharing a room with, Sonia and I had become friends. Some might even say ‘good’ friends.

Didn’t she deserve the truth? Or, at least, some version of it?

After all, what if I had another blackout?

And, if I was being completely honest with myself, I found it easier to talk to Sonia than with Evie or Naomi. We had only ever met during that first fateful day of college. She didn’t know I was the purported Queen Bee of my high school or the nerdy girl back in elementary and middle school.

In the end, I told Sonia everything. The words spilled forth with minimal prompting. As if I needed the outlet she offered.

By the time I finished, Sonia looked me dead in the eye. “I think you might need help,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. “My mom’s a psychiatrist. If you don’t want to go to her, I’m sure she’ll know someone who’ll be a better fit. But, if I’m being completely honest, it sounds like there’s a lot of stuff you need to unpack. Especially if you want answers.”

There was a moment’s pause as I tried to digest what Sonia was trying to say.

“What if I’m scared?”

Sonia grabbed my right hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be there with you, Patricia. Every step of the way.”

My name on her lips shouldn’t have sent a thrill down my spine. But it did.

What’s more, her offer was so tantalising, I couldn’t help but reach out and grab it.

I had thought, before, that only Amelia held all the answers. But maybe, just maybe, I could find it elsewhere. And not damn my soul any further by trying to make a deal with the devil on their terms.

~

My first talk with the psychiatrist Sonia’s mom picked out for me went well.

While they didn’t immediately present me with a diagnosis of a mental health disorder, they’d been sympathetic of my plight and had identified several behaviours they wanted to explore in further sessions such as my penchant for loneliness and the overwhelming feeling I had of being out of touch with others. Especially when it came to all the different personas I’d adopted when interacting with friends, family and other students.

Of my blackouts, Dr Nora – for that was how she liked to be called – had said little. Though she understood it was a concern wanted desperately to fix, she had wanted to tease out any underlying issues that might be triggering the dissociative episodes.

When I pressed her, she had posited the cause might have been stress.

It was an answer I didn’t much like, though I accepted it.

The second session, though, was rough. I’d come away from it feeling sad and miserable and worthless.

Dr Nora had dug deep. Questioning my feelings of insecurity and why I felt the need to prove myself during my time at Seven Oaks. And as she sought to plumb the depths of my psyche, she touched upon the fourth persona resting deep within.

Against my better judgement, I lashed out at her.

Like a sleeping dragon rudely prodded awake, my raw fury came bursting to the surface. And while I did not blackout, I did say a few things I deeply regretted when I returned to my shared dormitory room with Sonia.

“Hey, Patricia. How are you feeling?” asked Sonia, coming in late after her dinner date with a Logan Davis – a frat boy who shared one of her classes. According to Sonia, they had ‘grown close-ish’ after a group project and he had asked her out.

Logan Davis, of course, was a good-looking athletic boy with a way with women. And he knew it too. Especially in the way he tossed around his long golden locks as he carried his basketball around with him all through campus.

Back at Seven Oaks High, Trish would have set her eyes on him too. But Patsy was a different creature altogether.

And it had sat uncomfortably with me to know Sonia was out with Mr Playboy Logan Davis instead of hanging out with me in our shared lodgings.

“Crummy,” I replied, barely looking up from my game of Honkai: Star Rail. I went in to pull on a banner with one of my favourite characters, only to get Topaz – a character I cared little for and who I had plenty of. “Damnit!”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, you know…pulled another useless Topaz when I wanted Seele or Ruan Mei instead. Hate how busted the gacha system is.”

Sonia chuckled. “You said it. So, I take it you’ve finished the last few assignments then for class?”

“What? Oh. Yes,” I said, checking the daily mission for today. “It wasn’t my best work but I’ve decided I no longer care what Professor Langley’s opinions.”

“Not afraid it’ll pull down your grade average?” teased Sonia.

I huffed. “Not one bit. I’ll make it up with something else.”

“And how’d the session with Dr Nora go? Any closer to figuring out why you’re having blackouts? Or, as they would say, ‘dissociative episodes?’”

“It was fine. And no. We didn’t go into that kind of stuff,” I said.

“Well, do you think Dr Nora is a good fit for you?”

“Maybe? I don’t know.” I closed the game, not feeling very compelled to continue gaming. “Look, I’m tired. If it’s all right with you, I’ll turn in for bed?”

“What? Oh. Sure.”

“Thanks, Sonia. I hope the date with Logan went okay.”

Sonia looked askance, rubbing her upper left arm. “Yeah. Yeah, it did.”

“That’s great!” I said, trying to infuse my voice with excitement even as my gut churned with disappointment. “Well, good night.”

~

The end of the semester saw me return home.

Although I continued with my sessions with Dr Nora, it felt like any progress I had made had stalled. Despite my attempts to figure out ways to stop the blackouts, Dr Nora wanted to focus on my middle school years and the bullying I’d gone through.

“I know it’s a touchy subject, Patricia, but if you work with me instead of against me, this wouldn’t be so hard,” she would say as I lay on her couch, staring up at the patterned ceiling.

But middle school was something I never wanted to relive.

There had been so many moments when I’d stood on the precipice of a yawning chasm of darkness, wishing to end it all because I couldn’t deal with the relentless teasing about my appearance and the hobbies I’d loved.

I’d vowed, after graduation, that I would no longer be the victim, hating the person I saw in the mirror.

And so, during the summer, I’d focused on losing weight and scoured the internet for tips on how best to apply make-up to hide away any blemishes. I read up on how to be the ‘It’ girl at school because I saw it as my only way to escape the Hell of being the social outcast. Heck, I even created multiple social media accounts to curate the image I wanted to project.

All of this, I told Dr Nora as I kept my voice neutral and detached.

She didn’t need to know of the day I’d tried to overdose, only to be interrupted by mom and dad coming back early because the event they had been going to had been cancelled because of heavy rain. Nor did she need to know how I’d taken to self-harming when I’d confessed to a boy in my maths class.

I still remembered the look of disgust he wore as he studied me from head to toe – from my limp brown hair to the round glasses I wore on my already moon-shaped face, down to the unappealing braces and finally over my overweight form because of the sedentary lifestyle I led. But what had made it infinitely worse had been what he had called me after class, when he asked to meet underneath the bleachers.

No. There was no point in dredging up the pains of the past. Not when I was looking forward to the future.

And if Dr Nora couldn’t help explain the blackouts I was having, then I’d have to find it elsewhere.

Except, Amelia had refused to see me too.

I’d gone to visit her at the prison and had waited for half an hour in the visitor’s section before a guard informed me there had been an incident and Amelia had to cancel.

Two hours, wasted.

My phone pinged, pulling me from my thoughts. I grabbed it from where it was sitting on my desk and glanced at the screen, eager for a distraction.

Mom: Dinner’s ready. Head down when you’re hungry. While your dad is eying the beef casserole like a starving tiger, we won’t start without you.

It pinged again even as I was reading.

Mom: If there’s anything on your mind, I’m all ears. Just know that we love you Pat.

Reading her message, I felt tears prickle at the corner of my eyes.  Ever since I’d been briefly hospitalised following my ‘episode’, mom and dad had been worried sick. They’d even asked if I wouldn’t prefer living at home and commute to campus instead of staying at the dormitory.

I refused, of course.

After all, I was an adult and could make my own decisions. Not to mention all the responsibilities I’d picked up for volunteering for several student organisations campaigning against climate change and other social political movements.

If I lived at home, I wouldn’t be able to pour my all into those projects. Especially with mom watching over me like a hawk.

Besides, I was seeing Dr Nora, wasn’t I?

It was a step in the right direction and surely, it had to count for something.

I glanced again at my phone and the message mom had sent me.

With a sigh, I uncurled from my beanie bag, pocketed my phone and opened the door to my room. Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, I headed down the stairs.

Dinner wouldn’t be so bad. Mom would offer up the latest community gossip. But dad would probably dominate the conversation about his day at work.

As I turned the corner into the dining room, dad beamed at me. “There she is!” he said. “It’s your second day into summer vacation, Pat, but all we’ve seen you do is loaf around at home. What’s been going on?”

“I’ve just been busy,” I said with a shrug. “You know how it is. Study, study, study.”

Dad exchanged a glance with mom before he turned back at me. “Oh, come now Pat. We all know that’s not true. I’m sure Naomi and Evangeline would have invited you out. The three of you were as thick as thieves in school. Especially after that nasty business with the crazy girl. What’s her name again?”

“Amelia?”

“Yes. Her! And they’ve been calling in on us after what happened last month, asking how you’ve been.”

“They have?”

Dad nodded, thumping the table. “Well, they’re your friends, sweetie. Especially the brunette with the blonde highlights. Naomi, I think? She’s always looked very concerned when she’s come over. Talks to your mom more than she does me.”

“Such a sweet girl,” said mom as she plopped down the beef casserole into the centre of the table. “But enough talk. I’ve slaved over this for almost the entire afternoon. So, I hope you appreciate what I’ve made.”

“Always,” answered dad as he dug in.

Dinner passed without further intrusive questions from dad. Instead, he complained long and loud about the commute to and from work. Mom nodded along as she added another spoonful of mash potatoes to his plate.

I, on the other hand, played with the peas and poked at the carrots.

My appetite had fled from me after my last session with Dr Nora and I was dreading the next one.

I was starting to think she might not be the psychiatrist for me and I would need to start looking elsewhere. We had already gone through four sessions and I still remained an anxious mess without a formal diagnosis. Nor had I been prescribed the one thing I wanted: a cure for all my troubles.

And now she was wasting my time by trying to delve into my past.

Something I didn’t want to do.

But it wasn’t something I could easily break to mom and dad considering they were the ones footing the bill.

Finally, as mom brought out the dessert, dad looked me right in the eye and said, “I’ve been holding off on this for a while, kiddo, but between you and me, I don’t think it’s been good for you to treat you like you’d break apart at any moment. You’ve been plenty resilient considering everything, so I’ll come and say it. What’s been eating you, Pat?”

I blinked up at him, like a deer caught in headlights and struggled for words.

“Don’t look at me like that, Pat. I know you. And you’ve barely touched dinner. Is Dr Nora not working out for you? We can find someone else. My insurance can pay. Or is it something else? Boy trouble? We all know college campuses are cesspools filled with the dregs of the male population. If someone has t—”

“What? No! This isn’t about a boy. God, dad.”

He shrugged. “Well, if you aren’t going to tell me anything, I’m liable to jump to my own conclusions. You do know you can come to us for anything, right Pat? Your mom and I, we aren’t going to judge you. If there’s—”

Before he could finish, mom came back with dessert. A rich tiramisu Swiss roll cake. She gently placed it between me and dad before disappearing into the kitchen again to retrieve a few more plates and cutlery.

“Dig in,” she said after carefully cutting the cake into equal portions.

I accepted my plate, picked up a fresh fork and then stared at the hefty serving I’d been given. It was too much. Especially given how my stomach was still roiling with unease and guilt and shame and a million other overwhelming emotions.

After a moment, I put the fork back down, looked up at mom and then dad. Taking a breath, I plucked up my courage and opened my mouth.

There were so many things I wanted to tell them and to seek the reassurances I so desperately craved.

But try as I might, the words got stuck in my throat and I found I couldn’t get anything out. Mom and dad exchanged another knowing look but they didn’t press me.

Cheeks flushing red, I lowered my gaze back to the Swiss roll cake before me, mumbled something under my breath about not being hungry and fled to the safety of my room where I curled up into a ball and finally let the tears flow.

~

“So, tell me, Patricia, what are you most scared of?”

“Cockroaches,” I answered automatically, staring once again up at the checkered pattern on the ceiling. “And spiders. Oh, and I guess you could say I’m also terrified of flying. We’ve only ever gone on three overseas trips and each time was a nightmare.”

Dr Nora smiled politely. “All very common fears, Patricia. But that wasn’t what I was asking.”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned back into wing tip armchair. “I think you already know.”

Thinking over what we had discussed during our fifth session, I did have an inkling at what she meant. But I was loathe to give Dr Nora what she wanted.

Yes, I knew she was here to help me. But I couldn’t divest myself of the feeling that, in Dr Nora’s eyes, I was nothing but a test specimen. She would try to push one of my buttons and then record my reaction.

It was so clinical, so detached. And I hated it.

All I wanted was to be seen for who I was.

But even here, as I lounged on the therapist couch, I was projecting an image. It was imperfect, true, but I dared not let Dr Nora see the entire truth.

As the thought swirled in my head, I had to wonder why I felt compelled to continue pretending. Why was it that in a supposed ‘safe’ space, I still felt the need to pretend?

Was it because I was frightened of people seeing who I truly was and judging me? It had already happened once back in middle school and I’d been thoroughly rejected by the boy who had held my affections then.

But I had also moved on from the girl I was, ever growing and changing from a wide range of lived experiences.

I couldn’t return to the Patricia Taylor Morez I had been. But I also wasn’t just Pat, Patsy, Trish or Tricia.

So, who was I? Really?

“Patricia?” Dr Nora’s warm hand on my shoulder pulled me back to the room. “Are you okay?”

I blinked up at her dumbly. “What? Oh. I’m fine. Just have a headache.”

Dr Nora pursed her lips. “Although we do have another fifteen minutes, let’s end this session here, yes?”

“Sure,” I said with a shrug. I swung my legs down and rose to my feet. As I headed to the door, I stopped and turned to face Dr Nora just as she was straightening her notes. “Um, I don’t mean to push you but this has been our fifth session and you still haven’t told me what’s wrong with me. Or why I’ve been having these ‘dissociative’ episodes.”

A placating smile made its way to Dr Nora’s face. “I understand that it’s been a frustrating experience all around. To be honest, I could give you a diagnosis right now and write up a prescription to make you feel better, but it still won’t address the underlying issues you’re facing.”

“But it’ll stop me from having blackouts?”

“It might,” answered Dr Nora after a moment’s hesitation. “Or it might not. I believe the dissociative episodes are a symptom of something else. Unfortunately, I cannot help you if you don’t cooperate, Patricia.”

“What? By answering your insipid questions?”

Dr Nora shook her head. “I have had patients just like you in the past. And who never got better because they clung to the illusion everything was fine because they hadn’t gone on a murderous rampage. Don’t be like them, Patricia. You have so much more in your life to live. Don’t throw it away.”

Though anger and frustration had fuelled my initial outburst, it had wavered in the face of the sincerity I saw on Dr Nora’s face and the truth in her words.

“I…I’ll think on it. Should I make my follow-up booking with your receptionist?”

“That would be great, Patricia. And, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to think about the questions I asked you today. I know you don’t want to dredge up old wounds from your past, but I truly believe there’s a lot we can unpack. But only if you’re willing. Just remember: this is a safe space. I won’t judge you here. And no-one will know what we’ve discussed.”

I stepped past the threshold. “Thank you.”

~

Sat in front of my laptop, I skimmed the slim selection of movies on Netflix. I wanted something funny or dumb, where I could shut my brain off for an hour or two and not think about my latest session with Dr Nora.

My skin tingled with something horrid. Like ants were crawling all over my skin. And there was a dark nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Something was coming just over the horizon.

I didn’t know what it was but I feared what would happen when it did arrive.

It was easier to distract myself instead with something mindless.

Something like…was that Riverdale? Yes, there it was, sitting amongst a slew of promoted shows right under the selection of movies Netflix was trying to promote to me.

While I’d watched the first season years ago, I’d stopped when the plot lines began to feel flat and ridiculous. So, roughly around the third season. But, Hell, why not go back? Evie had loved the show. It, along with Emily in Paris and Bridgerton were in her top five shows of all time. Naomi, too, had watched all seven seasons though her opinion of the show was less favourable.

Hell, even Sonia had been suckered in. I remembered coming back to our shared dormitory and her mowing through a bucket of popcorn as she watched the series finale. When the credits had rolled, she had howled, throwing popcorn at the screen.

At the time, I hadn’t been sure if she had loved what the writers had done or hated it.

But it didn’t matter if the ending was good or bad. What mattered was that it would distract me for a few good hours. I could focus instead on the lives of Archie, Betty, Veronica and Jughead.

My phone pinged as I was about halfway through the third episode of the fourth season. I grabbed it and glanced down to read the notification.

An unknown number had sent me an attachment.

Without thinking, I clicked it open and was immediately bombarded by loud raised voices. Some that sounded familiar.

I glanced away from the TV to my phone and watched the scene unfold before my eyes. It had been taken in portrait mode on a bystander’s camera. The neon flashing lights told me it was the nightclub Naomi, Evie, Sanchez and I had visited not too long ago.

And standing in the centre, growling like a feral animal was me. My fingers were curled into beastlike claws as I tried to take a swipe at Sanchez, spitting out words of venom I would never have thought to utter.

Sanchez tried to catch hold of my arms but I was too swift, lashing out with a kick that caught him in the chest. He stumbled back, surprised but not winded. It had only been a glancing blow.

To my left, Naomi tried to edge behind me.

The video ended when Naomi grabbed hold of my waist and I was about to elbow her in the head.

My phone pinged again.

                Unknown: like wat u c? plenty where that came from.

Unknown: if u dont want this everywhere on the internet, and ur reputation ruined, u’ll meet me at Tanya’s. 6pm. Friday. C u there, Patricia.

What. In. The. Fucking. Hell?

~

I entered the small diner on the corner of 3rd and Olive Street, affectionately called Tanya’s at five minutes to 6. Glancing around, I didn’t spot anyone I recognised before choosing to sit in a booth facing the entrance as I waited for the mysterious texter.

Wearing an oversized hoodie and black jeans, I tried to remain inconspicuous. My hands remained in my pockets, fingering my phone.

For two days, I’d debated whether or not to reveal to mom and dad I’d been contacted out of the blue by someone hoping to blackmail me. But the idea of giving them additional stress dissuaded me from telling them anything. They already knew something was not quite right.

But I also knew I couldn’t face this unknown texter by myself. So, I turned to Naomi.

The two of us had concocted a plan to ensure my safety.

And it was reassuring to know Naomi was nearby and only a call away.

Whoever this mystery texter was, we’d put a stop to them. I didn’t need all the additional stress associated with it all. After all, I’d already paid my dues. I was working hard to make myself better and to build up a good and proper life. Didn’t I deserve happiness?

When the bell atop the door tinkled, I looked up from the shiny black table just as someone slid into the seat opposite me. She looked familiar, although I couldn’t quite place the blonde hair and upturned nose. Her eyes were lined with mascara and there were bags under her eyes. Unlike me, she was wearing a long-sleeved blouse and a green plaid skirt that reached her knees. Her hair was kept in a neat bun.

But it was the scar just behind her ear that drew my attention. Something about it seemed familiar. Like I’d seen something like it not too long ago.

“Patricia, I assume?”

“Whose asking?”

The girl opposite me flashed a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She leaned forward.

“I always found it weird she chose you.”

Anger flared in my chest. “Look, I don’t know who you are and I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re my mystery texter, all I ask is that you delete the video of me in the nightclub. I can pay.”

“See. You’re so focused on maintaining the image you have to others. Amelia taught me that such things are superficial and don’t matter in the long run. But when I showed her the video of you when I visited her, there was an excitement in her eyes. Why do you always get preferential treatment and not me?”

I jolted at the mention of Amelia’s name.

Who the fuck was this woman sitting across from me? And what did she know?

“I was her first, you know,” she continued. “Friend, that is. Before she went to Seven Oaks. If it hadn’t been for that incident, she would have stayed with me. But it was my fault. I angered her out of misplaced envy. Dan says she was always volatile. He’s convinced she’s a menace. Even took me to the parole hearing and everything so I’d testify against her.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The flash of realisation struck me like a bolt of lightning. Of course it was Professor Langley’s bloody cousin!

Something must have flashed across my face because the girl leaned back and reached for something in her purse. “Connected the dots, have you?”

“Maybe,” I answered. “What I don’t understand is why you’re acting like some jilted lover. The way Professor Langley told it, she was a monster who got into your head. And who led you down a dark path. He didn’t go into any exact details but wearing long sleeves in the summer? Doesn’t take too great a leap.”

The girl’s brow furrowed, accompanied by a deep-seated frown. “Dan never understood. He, too, was always beholden to societal expectations. And of how we were perceived by the public.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at me, blue eyes flashing with anger. “Don’t pretend, Patricia. It’s below you,” snarled the girl as she fingered her purse.

I glanced around, wondering if there was someone nearby but the sole waitress was at another table and taking their order. Could I perhaps call out? But no. Doing so would only paint a target on my back. And the girl before me seemed volatile. Just like Amelia had been when we had met underneath the bleachers.

One wrong move and there was no telling what Professor Langley’s cousin would do. I couldn’t afford to have her leak the video of me onto the internet. But I also had no means to ascertain if she had it all on her person.

What I needed to do was buy time.

Taking a deep breath, I hid my shaking hands and licked my suddenly dry lips. “If you’re so free from the weight of social judgement, why did you go to the parole hearing? Why not refuse?”

Something flitted across the girl’s face. Had it been doubt? Or was it something else?

Before I could try to figure out, the girl’s eyes hardened into steel flints. “I know what you’re doing, Patricia. It won’t work. Amelia always said you were a wily one, easily slipping on masks as needed to keep your precious image going. Even now. After she revealed the truth to you. That’s why I knew if I threatened to publish the video, you’d come.”

A few eyes turned towards our table at the girl’s raised voice.

“Shh. Keep quiet won’t you?” I said, looking around at the other patrons, wondering if anyone had heard. And fearing what they might say.

But the girl would not be dissuaded. She spoke, her voice even louder. “It’s disgusting how you grovel and submit to others simply to keep pretending. Do you even know who the true Patricia is anymore?”

Although the girl before me was a passing stranger, her words managed to find their target. I reeled from the blows.

Hadn’t I asked myself that exact same question when I was at Dr Nora’s?

Who was I?

Amelia would have said to cast aside the masks I’d built up and find the core of my very being. But in my session with Dr Nora, the only thing I’d uncovered was a person with an intense fury and hatred of those around her. The fear of being bullied, the resolve to be more than a nerd, and the fixation on past wrongs, had coalesced into something monstrous and unfathomable.

I didn’t want to be that person.

It wasn’t who I was.

And yet, I couldn’t say with certainty I was Patsy or Tricia or PattieNeko either. They were all facets of who I was with certain elements heightened depending on the people I was interacting with, but I had worn each mask for so long, the way I naturally slipped into each role didn’t seem as fake as I might have once thought.

There was no artifice to how I interacted with Naomi and Evie. They were my friends. And I was authentic with them, to an extent. Similarly, I did enjoy studying. Patsy wasn’t just a means to an end. She was a version of me, heightened though it was, who cared about social injustices and who wanted to take a stand against the downtrodden.

None of them were me and yet, all of them were.

I wasn’t just one thing. I was many.

People were multifaceted. No-one was simply a caricature or a trope made flesh.

And yet, everyone had tried to pigeonhole me. Even myself.

Amelia was no different.

Knowing all this, I realised how little power the girl who had terrorised me nine months back truly had. Despite everything, she had simply been a cunning manipulator. To what end, I couldn’t say.

“You’re wrong about me,” I whispered to Professor Langley’s cousin. “I know exactly who I am. The real question is: do you?”

The girl’s cheeks flushed red. She puffed out her chest. “You fucking dare? I—”

“What’ll it be?” interrupted the waitress. She looked at Professor Langley’s cousin and then at me before arching a brow in question.

I hastily snatched up the menu. “Could I get a juice, please? And, um, a beef burger. With fries.” I handed the menu back to the waitress. “Thank you.”

“What about you?” she asked, turning to the girl. “Did you want anything to drink? How about some food?”

Crossing her arms, the girl sullenly gave her order. The waitress jotted it down, repeated our orders to confirm she had it down right and then headed languidly back to the counter to put in our orders.

Professor Langley’s cousin turned back to me but I beat her to the punch. “You said earlier that Amelia told you I was a ‘wily one.’ Considering that wouldn’t have happened if she was still attending school, I’m assuming you’ve visited her ever since her arrest and sentencing.”

“So what if I do? It doesn’t change anything.”

I shrugged, trying to play my comment off as nonchalantly as possible. “Not really. Just an observation. But I do have to wonder if your family knows. How would they react if they knew you only attended the hearing because Amelia asked you to? I don’t think Professor Langley – sorry, Dan – would approve.”

Across from me, the girl’s face paled, eyes widening. Her mouth dropped open, closed, then opened again, making her look like a fish.

I continued to press my attack. “Although, let’s be honest, we both know the real reason you’re here is because you’re jealous. Amelia gives me all the attention and you, the scraps. And look, I don’t know what your relationship with Amelia was before everything that happened at your old school. Nor do I want to know. But Amelia? She’s played us both.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m not afraid to admit that I was drawn to her back in Seven Oaks. And even after she tried to kill me, I wanted to understand why. So, I visited her while she was held in detention. Falling into her trap. Just like you.”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

“There was a time I thought Amelia was my salvation. That she held all the answers I needed to finally understand who I was because it was just so hard to keep up the pretence of all the masks I wore in high school just to fit in and be popular. Near the end, before she’d transferred to Seven Oaks High, I’d been running on fumes. But then she appeared and was able to authentically insert herself into any group. It was a freedom I’d only ever dreamed of. So, I did what any petty high schooler would do. I tried to sabotage her.”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear anymore!”

I stared long and hard at Professor Langley’s cousin. Her hands were tightly gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white. But I couldn’t just let it end here. I needed to keep going. Put it all out there even though everything inside me told me I ought to listen to Professor Langley’s cousin.

The point was made, after all.

But it was almost like a compulsion to keep talking; to keep tightening the screw and show the girl before me the whole ugly truth.

Taking a deep breath, I plunged forward. “In the end, I pushed her over the edge. Well, at least I thought I did. After all, in my attempts to think up ways to sabotage her, I’d befriended her and showed her sides of me I’d kept hidden from everyone else. It was something she’d always encouraged. To show everyone my authentic self instead of hiding behind the personas I’d created. Even in detention, she wanted to see the ‘real’ me.”

“Not another word,” warned the girl.

“But I’ve come to realise now, it’s not the ‘real’ me she wanted.” I licked my lips. “What she wanted was a clone of her. Someone who is damaged, isolated from friends and family. More importantly, though, they need to be blinded by rage and hatred and trauma. It’s not too late to step back, though. I can help—”

I stopped as Professor Langley’s cousin drew out a small pistol and pointed the barrel straight between my eyes. Though her voice shook, her hand remained steady. “I fucking warned you.”

“You don’t want to do this,” I said, trying to remain calm. “We’re in a public space. There are witnesses. Just put the gun down, Langley. We can talk about this.”

“That’s not my name.”

“Well, excuse me for not knowing your name,” I said with false bravado. Surely the gun was fake. Right? Professor Langley’s cousin wasn’t that insane, was she? “Amelia never mentioned you and Professor Langley didn’t exactly disclose it either. Besides all that, I don’t really have the capacity to think because I’m panicking at the fact that I have a gun shoved in my face.”

The girl’s finger twitched on the trigger.  But there was no loud bang. And I didn’t drop to the floor dead.

Seconds bled into minutes as I waited for her to put an end to my life.

Was there a way I could distract her? Maybe I could wrestle the gun away? Would I be able to do that before she let off a shot? The gun was awfully close, aimed directly at my head.

Oh God, I didn’t want to die. There was still so much I wanted to do.

I couldn’t believe in the last three years I’d been threatened with murder twice!

Then, finally, the girl put the gun down and flashed me a cold smile. “Well, you can spout off as much as you want. We both know I have the power here. So, this is how it’s going to be. You—”

Before Professor Langley’s cousin could spell out her terms, the waitress returned to our booth. She placed the Caesar salad down before the girl and then handed me my burger.

Just as she turned to leave, I grabbed her arm.

“Hey, um, I was wondering where the restroom was?”

The waitress shook my hand free before pointing towards the far end of the diner. “Turn right when you get to the end.”

“Thanks,” I said, as I rose to my feet, pulling out my phone as I did so.

As I began to shuffle out of the booth, Professor Langley’s cousin snatched at my left hand. “Where do you think you’re going, Patricia?” she whispered.

“The toilet.”

“No, you’re no,” said the girl. “Lest you forget, I still have that video of you. And if you go, I’ll release it online. I’ve nothing left to lose.”

I grit my teeth, trying to calculate how best to extricate myself. Once again, I was at the mercy of someone about to fall off the deep end.

Not only did she have a compromising video of me, she also had a gun. I still wasn’t certain if it was real but it was something I didn’t want to risk. After what had happened in Seven Oaks, I wasn’t liable to underestimate the capabilities of anyone anymore.

So, I sat back down in the booth and subtly called Naomi on my silent phone.

“Okay, okay. You win. Now tell me what you want,” I said. “All you’ve done is berate me and then threaten me. But the only reason why we’re both here is because I want to make this whole situation go away. And I’m willing to pay anything you ask.”

Professor Langley’s cousin flashed me another cold brittle smile. “Anything?”

The lilt in the girl’s tone sent a cold shiver down my spine. “It has to be within reason,” I added. “The video isn’t something I’d want publicly known, true, but I’m not going to do something else that you can use against me.”

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” said the girl, grabbing a fork from the shared container of clean cutlery and stabbed at huge piece of chicken. “Fine. We’ll keep this transactional then.”

“How much?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Would a hundred thousand sound reasonable?”

“What?”

“Two hundred thousand then.”

“I don’t have that kind of money,” I retorted. “My family doesn’t have that kind of money!”

“Too bad. I want two hundred thousand by the end of the week.”

I shook my head. “It’s too much.”

“Well, I think you’re getting the better half of the deal.”

“Two hundred thousand just to have you delete a video? No. This is extortion. Of the worst kind.”

The girl looked up from her salad, her lips curled up into a smirk. “Is it, now? Tell me, how much do you think your life is worth? Two million? Five billion? Take that into account when you say this is extortion.”

She took a bite of her chicken. Swallowed. Then set her fork down.

“By the way, in case you were curious, the gun is real. If you’d kept pushing me earlier, I doubt we would be having this conversation.”

I stared at her, agog. “You’re fucking insane.”

“A cross many of the enlightened have had to bear when confronted by those who choose to remain ignorant.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re worse than Amelia ever was. And she—”

“No. Don’t presume to speak of Amelia. You aren’t even worthy to speak her name,” hissed the girl. “It’s infuriating that she would ever pick you to be her protégé. Especially when I was always there. Waiting in the wings.”

“Fine. You want two hundred thousand, you’ll get it,” I said.

“It was nice doing business with you, Patricia,” said the girl, leaning over her salad and proffering a hand to shake on. “I hope you’ll come to see how mutually beneficial this was. For the both of us.”

~

“You need to take this to the police, Tricia. I’m serious.”

“And say what? I don’t even know her name.”

Naomi blinked up at me from the passenger seat. “Are you shitting me right now? She pulled a fucking gun on you. Threatened you with it. In a fucking diner. What if you had been shot?”

“Well, I wasn’t,” I said somewhat petulantly, crossing my arms and leaning back into the driver’s seat of my mother’s silver Honda Accord. “Besides, what if she releases the video out onto the internet?”

“It won’t matter. None of us are going to press charges, Trish. You know that,” retorted Naomi, anger flushing her tan skin red. “And from what I’ve seen, it’s a grainy video. You can barely make out any details. Listen to me. This isn’t worth your life.”

A pregnant silence descended over us as we sat in the car.

I knew Naomi was right. To an extent.

But she didn’t have a reputation in college to maintain. Even if I wasn’t charged, having a video like that out on the internet could impact my ability to network or find a job.

People had been cancelled for less on social media.

Could I consign myself to social suicide?

I glanced over at Naomi, still breathing heavily at my side. Her face was still red. But underneath the anger, there was fear and concern and…love.

Shit. I’d been so focused on how much the video would reflect on me and its damage to the curated image I’d tried to maintain, I’d forgotten about the people closest to me. How might they feel if I did something stupid and got myself killed? What would they think if I allowed Professor Langley’s cousin to blackmail me out of home and college.

More importantly, why did the opinions of literal strangers seem to matter more to me than the family and friends who had had my back for as long as I’d known them?

I opened my mouth, ready to apologise but Naomi spoke first, breaking the silence between us. “Look, I know this is a stressful situation for you. But the Trish I knew wouldn’t take this lying down. She’d fight back. Probably with the most unhinged plan to get what she wants.”

“And you saw how well that panned out in high school,” I said. “There’s a scar I still have.”

Naomi chuckled. “Yes, well, the incident with Amelia aside, you still managed to get crowned Prom Queen with Brad as Prom King. And you also got one of the highest marks in the grade.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Naomi placed a hand on my arm. “You’re the baddest motherfucker I know, Tricia. But also know you have me, Evie and, admittedly, Sanchez, on your side.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Are we really counting Sanchez in as part of our group? I’d say he’s more of a liability than anything else.”

“True,” admitted Naomi, “but he, surprisingly, has had his moments.”

“I’m sensing a story here, Naomi. Spill.”

“Maybe next time,” she hedged. “Let’s just get home first and come up with an actionable plan, yeah? Oh, and can we stop by Wendy’s? I’m starving.”

~

“Tori Louise Smathson,” I said, holding up a printout of the private Instagram page for Professor Langley’s cousin to the glass divider.

After trawling social media for two hours after I’d returned home, I’d found a picture of who I presumed was Tori, a large beaming smile on her face, dressed in the blue and gold private school uniform she must have worn. Her long blonde hair had been braided into two pig tails.

Amelia’s face was like stone.

“She’s the reason you were expelled from your last school. Right? Tell me what happened.”

Silence greeted my words. The minutes stretched between us and still Amelia said not a word.

I shifted awkwardly in my seat, still determined to get an answer. After all, I was running out of time. There was no telling when Tori Smathson would upload the video to destroy my reputation. And if I wanted any hope in hell to stem the blow, I needed some ammunition of my own.

Tori, herself, had revealed just how much she relied on Amelia. In so doing, she had revealed her one weakness.

One that I needed to take advantage of.

But I needed to know more.

“I know she visits you, Amelia. She told me herself at a diner three days ago. And told me you spurned her for me. If I didn’t know any better, I might have thought she loved you.”

Amelia’s left eye twitched at my words but she said nothing.

“Who was she to you. Really? Was it a lover’s spat gone wrong? It’s okay. We’re living in the 21st century now. There’s no need to be closeted. I mean—”

Laughter. Loud and raucous, and completely out of place. Had I missed something?

After wiping the corner of her eyes, Amelia stared at me dead in the eye. “You truly are desperate, Patricia, if you’re grasping for straws. So, this is why you deigned to visit me after so long.”

“I wouldn’t say two weeks was all that long a period,” I said testily.

“Ah, yes. But we didn’t actually chat, did we?”

“They said you were busy.” I shrugged, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as I could. Not wishing to reveal how much her rejection had hurt me even though I knew it had also been a mistake to give in.

This game I played with Amelia was dangerous. After all, the girl before me was a master manipulator.

I’d always thought I knew which buttons to press when I was Queen Bee of Seven Oaks but Amelia had made it an art form. No. It was better to keep my distance here.

“So, was this all just a waste of time? Or will you tell me more about Tori?”

“I could. But what would I get out of it?” asked Amelia as she leaned back in her chair, slinging one arm back over the chair.

I looked Amelia in the eye, taking in the grin. She thought she had all the power in this dynamic. And if I was being honest, she did. Without her help, I might as well consign myself to a fate worse than death.

Naomi might have thought it was something that could blow over by the next week, but I knew better. Scandal could remain for years.

It didn’t matter that I hadn’t been in my right mind. People would still use it against me.

Just like Tori Smathson.

Which was why I was here.

But there was only one thing I could really feasibly offer to Amelia. Doing so, however, meant I would be playing right into her hands.

Still, if it was the price I needed to pay…

Nervously, I licked my lips. “Well, look at this way: you’ll finally get to know how right you were. Two sides set against each other. You have me, still clinging to all my ‘false selves,’ and then you have Tori, a subscriber to your philosophy. It’ll be a battle for the ages and you’ll have front row seats.”

“You paint a pretty picture, Patricia. But I still don’t know why I should help you.”

My grip tightening on the receiver I feared I would crack it in half. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to relax. “Because the fight won’t be fair. And I know you’re a stickler for letting people make their own decisions. Be it for good or ill. More than that, it puts me in your debt.”

Amelia pondered my offer for several minutes. She even got up from her seat to pace the cramped room she had been given.

After what felt like aeons, she sat back down on the steel stool and picked up the receiver.

“Fine. I’ll play this little game of yours, Patricia.”

“Thank—”

“Oh no. Don’t thank me. It isn’t for you. Rather, I’m hoping this little game will simply hammer home the point I was meaning to make.”

~

In the end, everything comes back full circle, I thought as I stood outside the bleachers of Seven Oaks High, dressed in tight ripped black jeans and an oversized t-shirt. A duffel bag lay next to my feet. I rubbed my naked arms and pulled out my phone to check the time.

7:30 PM.

Tori Smathson was late. Or, possibly she had arrived early and was simply scoping the field to see if there might be any incoming threats. After all, I could have called the police. Or set up an elaborate trap.

When I’d announced the location for us to make the exchange, she hadn’t been happy. But I hadn’t wanted it to be in a public area where innocent bystanders could get hurt. Easier to find somewhere deserted. Where we might not get interrupted.

It had taken 20 minutes and three conditions before Tori had come round to the idea.

There was a cunning to her. I’d give her that.

As I waited for her to appear, I glanced across the football field and up at the orange sky with pink streaks. Sunset. Well, almost. The sun was hanging low over the horizon. It would be another ten minutes before it would start to sink below the mountains.

My phone pinged and I glanced down.

                Unknown: u hv the $$?

I quickly replied back with an affirmative. And then followed it up with a: where r u?

Text bubbles appeared for a few seconds before vanishing. Then they appeared again.

                Unknown: u alone? i thought i saw sumthing earlier.

Goddammit. If it was Sanchez and Evie getting frisky somewhere in our old school, heads were going to roll. I’d given them explicit instructions to remain out of sight.

Smathson had been adamant that no-one else was to be here.

Of course, it might not be Sanchez or Evie but a student or teacher. The musical theatre kids were notorious for coming in at almost all hours to build their extravagant sets or to quietly rehearse their scenes in an empty classroom or two.

That, however, was out of my control. And I said as much when I texted Smathson back

                Unknown: fine. i’ll b there in 5. stay put. no funny business yeh?

If the situation wasn’t so dire, I would have rolled my eyes.

The minutes ticked by slowly. After what felt like an aeon, a familiar blonde hair ducked beneath the bleachers.

Tori Smathson was dressed head to toe in black. From the thick scarf around her neck to the satin gloves and heavy-duty boots she wore though it was still a warm 80 or so degrees out. Summer, this year, was a right killer. Especially when one was trying to sleep at night.

Unwinding her scarf, Tori flashed me a cold smile. “Where’s the money, Patricia?”

“In the duffle bag,” I said, giving it a kick.

“You wouldn’t mind if I checked it, would you?”

“I would, in fact. How do I know you haven’t set the video up on some server, ready to be released as soon as you get the money?”

She sneered. “The unenlightened always doubt.”

“Yes, well, you haven’t engendered much faith, have you?” I retorted. “If I remember correctly, you held me at gunpoint in a diner just last week.”

“Fine,” said Tori. She pulled out her phone from her coat pocket, unlocked it and showed me the video she was using to blackmail me.

“And this is the only one?”

“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like the money?”

“Sure. Sure. But before you take duffle bag and run off, I wanted a conversation with you. Could you do that at least, Tori?”

Smathson’s brow furrowed. She straightened up and crossed her arms. “If this is a delaying tactic, Patricia, this won’t work.”

“No, no. Nothing at all like that. It’s just, I want to get something off my chest.”

“Oh?”

I scratched the side of my nose. “The whole blackmail thing, the video, it really brought me back to a dark place. Did you know? I was bullied in middle school. Snot-nosed teacher’s pet Patty, they used to call me. I had these thick-rimmed glasses and acne all over my face.

“And though I joined a thousand different clubs, wanting to fit in, I never did. The theatre kids looked down on my mathematical prowess. Math club turned their noses up my desire to join a sports team. And the dance team? They knew I was good at it but they could never let me in on their final line-up. Despite all the hours I’d poured into practice.”

“A story told a million times over in almost every school,” said Tori, although her face had paled. Just the tiniest bit.

“Enter high school,” I continued, ignoring her interruption. “I didn’t want to sit alone in the cafeteria anymore. Or be cast aside as another oddity. In so doing, I changed everything about myself to fit into the mold expected of a Queen Bee. The anger and resentment within me had found new purpose. But it was also tinged with fear. Although I didn’t have any old classmates at Seven Oaks High, I worried people would figure me out and see me for the impostor I was.

“Then, of course, there were the expectations I get good grades too. That part, too, was still engrained heavily in me. But it’s a tale as old as time, isn’t it? Considering it was something you also went through.”

A shadow of a heretofore unknown emotion flitted across Tori’s face before she hid it behind her mask of cool indifference. “Is that all, Patricia?” she asked. “It’s not going to make me change my mind, you know. I don’t care a whit about the baggage you’ve gone through. I just want the money.”

“Fine,” I said, giving the duffle bag another kick. “Take it. But we both know the reason you’re doing all this, Tori, is because you want to find an escape. Just like me, you thought you had to be someone you weren’t. Amelia took advantage of that. Tore down the walls you built up, feeding on your insecurities.

“Your family, of course, don’t understand. They salt the wounds Amelia left behind.

“There is, however, another answer. You don’t have to go through with this. This isn’t you,” I said, extending a hand out.

Smathson smacked my hand away and grabbed the duffle bag, her face a few shades whiter than it had been before. “What the fuck do you know about me anyway? Stop trying to act all high and mighty. I know who I am. You’re the one who’s at a loss, playing at pretend.”

“Am I?”

“If you weren’t, this stupid video wouldn’t hold such power over you,” she sneered. “Well, I’m sure you’ll understand that I’ll need to check the money before I commit to deleting it.”

“Of course.”

She weighed the bag in her hands for a few moments, perhaps wondering if this was all a trap before she set it back down on the grass, knelt down and unzipped it. The first stack of $20 bills was pulled out. Then another.

Until, finally, she pulled out her first $50 and $100 stack.

Smathson whirled on me then, face red. “You think this is a game?” she roared at me. “Where’s the fucking money, Patricia?”

I remained as calm as I could. “Right there. In your hands.”

“This?” she slapped a fat stack of $20s in my face. “This is fucking Monopoly money!”

“Is it?” I asked, furrowing my brow deep in thought. “Weird. I definitely know I filled the bag with money I got from my parents. It was a whole fiasco, asking them for two hundred thousand dollars.”

“You bitch! I’ll fucking destroy you,” spat Smathson. “You come here, trying to sell me a sob story so I’ll sympathise with you because of all the ��similarities’ between us, but you’re just lying to my face. You don’t know me. You never will. Not about the things I’ve done and the sacrifices I’ve made. Anger is all I have left.”

I threw my hands up, alarmed. “Tori, I’m sorry if you believe that’s the case—”

“Don’t you dare say my name! I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work!”

“Please, just listen—”

“No! I want my two hundred thousand, Patricia. And I want it now. If you value your life, you’ll get it to me by whatever means necessary,” said Tori as she reached for her small black purse.

Before she could pull anything out, Sanchez came in from the left and tackled Tori to the ground. He pinned her arms above her.

Hissing like a cat, the girl struggled to free herself. She almost managed to knee Sanchez in the balls but the footballer was quicker.

“Helps when you have friends, doesn’t it?” I said almost casually as I crouched over Tori. “Trish was meant to be a caricature, true. The stereotypical mean girl Queen Bee. Somewhere along the way, though, it stopped being fake and I learned to love the friends I’d made. Evie might not have been smart, and Naomi liked the finer things in life, but over the years, I’ve learned there’s more to just the first impressions they gave.

“Therapy can help you too. We are more than just the persona we project to the outer world, Tori. But they’re also a part of who we are. It’s not a bad thing to be known as the nerd or the popular Queen Bee. Yes, I was cruel in how I wielded my anger and insecurities, but there’s no shame in admitting needing help. What’s important is knowing when to ask for help.”

Tori tried to spit at my face. “Are you done preaching?”

“Not quite,” I said, taking her purse and upending it. A small hand pistol plopped out on the ground. I kicked it aside. “Now we are. Sanchez, care to escort our friend over to the parking lot?”

“With pleasure, milady.”

I watched as Sanchez manage to wrestle Tori up to her feet and then frogmarched her away from the football field. Pulling out my phone, I texted Naomi and Evie that I was fine and everything had gone swimmingly. As I put my phone away, something silver and metallic caught my eye just a few feet away in the clipped grass.

Tori Smathson’s phone.

Just like Amelia told me, Tori hadn’t bothered with facial recognition or biometric recognition. Instead, she had set up a six-digit passcode. I entered in the code Amelia had told me.

The phone unlocked.

I clicked into the Photos app and opened up the video Tori had filmed that fateful night. Once more, I saw how I rose to my feet and swayed like I was drunk before lashing out at Sanchez and Evie. Or what I assumed were Sanchez and Evie. The picture was grainy at best. Shot over a long distance. And the camera work was shaky.

It ended right as Sanchez managed to sneak around behind me before restraining me in a bear hug.

Shit. Naomi had been right.

The video could hardly be called hard evidence. To any passersby, it might have looked like a group of friends having a drunken night out.

Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. I deleted the video. Then I deleted it again from the recycling bin.

But just as I was about to pocket Tori Smathson’s phone, a photo dated three years ago caught my eye. In it, both she and Amelia were smiling at the camera outside the local shopping mall. Both of them were wearing the school uniform of the prestigious high school they had attended: blue with gold trim blazers, white shirts and plaid tartan skirts.

My thoughts drifted, pondering what had caused the rift between them.

Amelia had said little when I’d pressed her about the incident that had drove the wedge between them and which had driven her down a dark path. One that Tori seemed to follow though she had initially rejected it.

Maybe it had been a lover’s tiff? Or perhaps Tori Smathson, obsessed still with the image she wanted to maintain, had pushed Amelia too far. Then, lashing out, Amelia had dug her own claws into Tori.

Leaving both of them miserable and social outcasts.

At least, that was the theory I’d concocted.

In the end, it didn’t matter who had started what. That was all in the past. And it wasn’t my responsibility to go digging, I thought as I locked Tori’s phone and slipped it into the back pocket of my ripped jeans. I’d return it to her later.

As I took another look around my old high school, I couldn’t help but dwell how different I felt from when I’d ruled the school as Queen Bee.

No longer did I feel overwhelmed; fearful of what might happen if I was unmasked for being an impostor.

And there were many things I was grateful for that I’d never once considered before.

I was alive. I was unharmed. And, more importantly, I was seeking help.

While I wasn’t completely healed from the damage inflicted by my childhood traumas, I was taking steps to better myself. Already, I had come to accept my whole entire self – the facets I thought I’d conjured up to compartmentalise the different aspects of my life.

True, none of them were the real me. Yet, at the same time, all of them were me.

It was a difficult concept to wrap my head around still, but I knew it would only be a matter of time.

And that was okay.

Feeling lighter than I had in days, I turned towards the school parking lot.

There was a story I still needed to bring to a close.

[kyndaris]

Whole Again - Part 1

This short story is a sequel to one I wrote a couple of years back. called Splintered. During that time, I was struggling with a lot of things including the fact I never truly presented my whole self to others but only certain facets.

I've come to realise, however, that just because I don't bring my whole self into a conversation doesn't mean it's a fake personality I've conjured. It is still me.

There is a time and place for everything.

While not everyone may appreciate Chaos Gremlin Kyndaris, maybe some others will. Then again, there is Work Kyndaris and Eager Gamer Kyndaris. Dutiful Daughter Kyndaris and Exhausted Caregiver Kyndaris.

Humans are multifaceted. In this day and age where we try and label everything, is it any wonder so many are trying to seek their 'true selves' only to stumble because they've not realised the whole of who they are is a complex contradictory mess?

So many things have been relegated to black and white, it's become impossible to see the nuance of who people are.

With that, I hope you enjoy this first part of my short story: Whole Again.

Life as I knew it changed when I graduated from Seven Oak High. At college, there was a whole new host of challenges I needed to weave my way through and I realised the old masks I’d worn to get me through high school were no longer fit for purpose.

Gone was mean-girl queen-bee Trish. Her actions and behaviour wouldn’t have worked under the watchful eye of the sorority den mother in charge of my dormitory.

Pat, on the other hand, stepped up to fill the void. But instead of being the meek and dutiful student and daughter, she had taken on several more facets of who I was. There was a new spring to her step. A confidence that exuded from putting my hand up for several campus causes.

Suddenly, everything was all new and fresh again and I had to adapt once more.

From the remains of Pat and Trish emerged Patsy.

No longer was I a leader so much as another cog in the fight against oppression and the patriarchy. All the energy I poured into becoming Queen Bee was now put into healthier pursuits as I railed against a slew of social injustices.

And yet a part of me still missed hanging out with my friends, Naomi and Evangeline (although they both ended up going to different universities than me), I was still a version of Trish. But this time I could let my guard down a little. Show off a little bit of the real ‘me’ lurking beneath the mask I had worn.

They deserved it, after all. Especially after the pain and terror we had all endured at the hands of Amelia last year.

After all, if it hadn’t been for the Evangeline and her boyfriend, Michael Sanchez, there was every chance I might not be standing here at all.

And thus, Tricia was born to serve as a dorkier and less catty version of Trish. Tricia was about having fun, with a focus on nostalgia.

Was it what Amelia had wanted for me? No. But given that she was in a juvenile detention centre and mandated to see a court-appointed psychiatrist every week to deal with whatever was wrong with her, I doubted her opinion mattered much.

Not that she put much stock in therapy.

In her mind, she was the least crazy of us all. Rather, it was the entire world that was mad as we catered to society’s expectations of who and what we were. Better, she had told me while holding a knife, to be our truest and authentic selves. Whatever that meant.

The first time I’d visited her at the detention centre, she hadn’t seemed surprised when she came out. Rather, there had been a knowing smile on her face as she sat down. We stared at each other for a few minutes.

But as I struggled to find the words I wanted to say, Amelia motioned to her guard and whispered something into their ear. Before I could stop her, she had risen to her feet and left.

I was left sitting at the table, alone. And for the longest time, I didn’t know if I wanted to leave or stay. Hell, I didn’t know why I’d come to see her in the first place.

Maybe I wanted closure. Or maybe I wanted to see the person still haunting me in my nightmares and know she couldn’t hurt me anymore.

Whatever the reason, I was left with a roiling churning maelstrom of emotions in my gut. None of which I could decipher.

In the end, one of the guards had to escort me out.

Still, despite that, I came to visit her again. And again. And again.

Amelia was a mystery. One I wanted to solve.

From all accounts, before the incident at her old school, she had been just like me. Except, perhaps, more outstanding. She was smart, athletic and didn’t shy away from the arts either. She was a triple-threat student.

But something had happened in the summer of 2018. One that had seen her thrown out of her prestigious school and enrol at Seven Oaks High instead. The word on the street was it was an altercation with another student though the details were hazy.

What kept me up most nights was the fear I might turn into her. Or a version of her.

The fear and anger and hurt I’d repressed all throughout middle school and high school had coalesced into something frightening. I wouldn’t call it a personality exactly. Nor was it a facet of who I was. Not really.

Just an impulse. A voice in my head wishing ill on others or asking me to do something cruel and mean and demeaning.

It sometimes came out as Trish, but only if I ever felt threatened.

Trish, as a mask I wore, was created from an amalgamation of mean girls from teen movies. The stereotypical queen bee who often got their comeuppance by the end of the film. She was meant to be all bark and no bite. A harmless stereotype most people forgot because it wasn’t who I really was and nobody at Seven Oaks High really cared much for.

Except, of course, Amelia had brought out a side of me that was petty and jealous and actually hurtful because I couldn’t stand how effortlessly she made friends with any and all cliches. There was no artifice to her.

She was everything I wanted to be but couldn’t.

And that was why I hated her.

Or I would have if, by the third time I’d visited her, the façade she had of being above it all hadn’t begun to slip. Behind all the bravado she had projected during my first visit, Amelia was scared.

She knew she had done something wrong but she hadn’t quite grasped the extent of her actions.

Still, even though I could be more ‘myself’ when I was with Evangeline and Naomi, it was with Amelia I could truly be the entirety of Patricia.

“So, tell me about college. What are you studying? Doing anything fun?”

“There’s not much to tell. Just a lot of courses and assignments and projects. I’ve signed up to help protest sexual harassment on campus and I’ve joined two clubs, one’s acapella and the other is about climate change.”

“How typical of the overachiever.”

“You’re one to talk,” I scoffed. “How are things in here?”

“Same old, same old. Although, there was this other girl that was giving me the side eye last week. Said I’d taken her towel.”

“Did you?”

“Well, yes. I did. But she wouldn’t have known that. I returned it, cleaned and everything. She should have been thanking me. Her towel was filthy.”

“That’s not the point, Amelia.”

“Oh, then what is, Patricia? Should I have done the socially acceptable thing of pointing out her towel was filthy and she needed to wash it?”

“No, but—”

“Fine. Next time I’ll play nice and not say a thing. Wait until they notice how disgusting they truly are.”

“Amelia…you know what? Forget it. This isn’t why I came to visit you.”

“You sure you don’t want me to regale you all about juvie life, Patricia? You come here so often, one would think it’s the sole reason you come and see me here. Or do you relish seeing me behind bars?”

I rose to my feet. There was no sense in talking to Amelia when she was being contrary.

“It was good to see you, Amelia. I’ll see you next time, yeah?”

“Leaving so soon? Was it something I said?”

“Amelia, I don’t have time to play these games. Not today. I’ve three assignments to get through and I’m helping out at a fundraiser tomorrow.”

Something shifted in Amelia’s face.

A flash of fear or disdain or something else, I couldn’t tell. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, I felt the weight of her gaze on the back of my head as I left the correction facility.

I couldn’t help but wonder if she had known the lie on my lips.

~

It was a struggle to remain awake as the professor droned on about the basics of supply and demand. Head propped on fist, I stifled a yawn and looked over at Sonia, who seemed enraptured by the subject matter, as she scribbled down notes. Sonia and I were roommates and shared three classes. We’d become fast friends, bonding over a shared love for the online game Honkai: Star Rail.

While Sonia was an avid gamer, I’d been drawn to the space-themed fantasy role playing game because of the artwork. And the fact many of my online friends had been effusive about both Star Rail and its predecessor, Genshin Impact. It had been easy to get into. And almost impossible to get out of.

Amelia might have said I’d been trapped. But it didn’t feel like that for me.

The world of Honkai: Star Rail was one I loved. Especially when coupled with the awesome characters found therein.

It was freeing in so many ways.

In a world of pretend, I could be whoever I wanted behind the username I used.

But Honkai also had its hooks in me simply as a fan of the series. Without even meaning to, I’d bought a plushie of one of my favourites when I’d spied them in a store. It now sat on my bed, next to my pillow. A guilty pleasure I allowed myself because I knew Sonia wouldn’t tell.

“Patsy, you look like you haven’t been paying attention,” said the professor, looking right at me. I flushed and desperately looked around, hoping there was another Patsy or Patricia in class he was referring to. But the professor merely shook his head as he pointed to me. “Come, come. This isn’t anything hard. And I’m not trying to single you out. But since you were caught daydreaming, I’ll need to make an example of you. Who knows, if you did the readings I’d set last week, this shouldn’t be too hard either. So, tell me, what is the umbrella term for the various macroeconomic theories and models of how aggregate demand influences economic output and inflation?”

I scrambled for an answer; racked my brain for anything I could offer.

This was something I knew because I had read the readings from last week. Yet, being put on the spot like this, all I wanted to do was fade into the seat underneath me. Vanish into the great unknown.

Sonia leaned in. “—nesian—” she whispered to me.

What? There wasn’t an economist named Nesian to the best of my knowledge. Had I missed something?

For a moment, I blinked dumbly at Sonia then turned back to the professor.

God. Why was this so hard? Think Patricia, think!

“Um, Keynesian?”

The professor let out a sigh. “Yes. That’s right. Sonia, next time, I’d appreciate it if you let Patsy answer on her own, hm?”

Sonia sank in her seat, the tips of her ears burning red. The professor waited a moment before turning back to the blackboard and resuming his presentation.

As I listened to his speech, I wrote a quick note in the top left corner of my notebook, ripped it off and slipped it over to Sonia. She barely glanced at it, still traumatised for being caught out by her favourite professor, before pushing it back in my direction, an apologetic look in her eyes.

Shit. My brief lapse in concentration had cost Sonia everything she cared about. I’d have to make it up for her.

Right after I helped the Climate Change Committee with their placard signs, printed off posters for the ‘Sexual Harassment on Campus’ rally and a bajillion other projects Patsy had signed herself up to. Patsy, of course, was a real believer in human rights and social causes. She also kissed up hard to the professors when it came to her studies. When it came to friends, though, Patsy sometimes did let them down.

But she was the mask Sonia knew best. With a side serving of gamer chic.

Still, it was no excuse. I’d find a way to properly express my remorse before next Friday night. Which, of course, was when Tricia had scheduled a late-night karaoke session with Naomi and Evangeline to catch-up on all the hot goss around town. And to also let my hair down after a gruelling two weeks of assignments.

The queen bee of Seven Oaks High still needed to partay!

Still, all of this juggling between masks was exhausting.

There were days when I wished I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t. Or, at the very least, hide away parts of me that didn’t fit with the image people had of me.

And it made me want to explode.

Despite my attempts to quieten the voices, they seemed only to get louder and louder and louder with each passing day.

I wondered what might happen if I kept trying to shove my round self into a square hole. Wondering if it would last.

Movies and social media had forced us all into one pigeonhole or another. Popular girls were stereotyped as mean. The protagonist was always the ugly duckling who was actually beautiful once she underwent a makeover.

But the whole of who I was couldn’t be contained in one label.

Could it?

I was pulled from my thoughts as the hour ran out and the professor dismissed the class. Gathering my belongings, I was right behind Sonia when a voice called out to me.

“Patsy, could you stay behind for a minute, please? There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

I froze. Sonia looked back at me, a look of concern on her face.

“Go,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you back in the dorm.”

Frowning, Sonia gave a nod of her head before she headed down the corridor and vanished around the corner. I turned back to face the professor, steeling myself for the reprimand that was sure to come when the last of the students trickled out.

But it never came.

“Sir?”

Professor Langley heaved a heavy sigh, running a hand through his thinning brown hair. He flashed me a weary smile. “Patsy, this isn’t easy for me to say but I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

“Is it about my studies? Because I can do extra credit or—” I started, scrambling to figure out what it was I had done wrong.

“Oh, no. Patsy. It’s nothing academic. Which is why I struggled with bringing this to your attention.”

“Okay?”

“Patsy, do you happen to know a girl called Amelia Cardum?” asked the professor, a sheepish look on his face.

A cold shiver went down my spine at the mention of Amelia’s name s I stared up at Professor Langley, wide-eyed with horror.

How much did he know? Was he somehow related to Amelia? While newspapers weren’t forbidden from printing names, the journalists had kept it lowkey. Even when it came to reporting the trial, no-one had been identified and I’d appeared only via teleconference.

The professor couldn’t have known of my connection to Amelia. Could he?

“Judging by your gaping mouth, I assume I’ve hit the nail on the head with that assumption. Listen, Pasty, you’re not in any trouble. It just so happens, though, that Amelia attended my cousin’s high school.”

What Professor Langley said next was forgotten as my mind scrambled for a way to escape. To sink into the ground. To defenestrate myself. Or combust into flames.

His next few works caught me off-guard.

“—my cousin with nary but a slap on the wrist. The fact you were almost killed—”

“Sorry. What?”

Professor Langley stopped and searched my face for something. “This was a mistake. I apologise for overstepping. Forget I said—”

“No,” I said, grabbing hold of his arm. “It’s just, when you mentioned Amelia, I didn’t know what to think. I was scared you were going to judge me for something out of my control. It’s…still a touchy subject.”

“That’s understandable, Patsy,” said the professor, nodding emphatically. He leaned in towards me. “My cousin is still very much shaken after what happened to her. But I’m sure your experience was much more harrowing. It’s just…well, I’ve heard Amelia has a parole hearing later this month. And I would appreciate if you could be there, say a few words. She might have been a minor at the time but there’s something wrong with the girl. She’s evil incarnate. And she can’t simply get away with this anymore. Don’t you agree?”

  It took me a moment to grasp the implications behind his words.

But while I knew where he was coming from, I couldn’t agree. There was a part of me that pitied Amelia. Who still saw a part of myself reflected in her.

She might be troubled and out of touch with reality, but she was also the person who had seen into my very soul. A dark reflection of who I could be if I made the wrong choices.

“I…can I think on it, professor? This isn’t something I can decide on right now.”

Professor Langley straightened. “Of course. This is a hard ask, I know. My cousin was also reluctant to step forward too.”

“Would it suit to give you a reply next week?”

“Yes, of course. There’s no pressure. None at all. But, Patsy, I’m glad we had this talk. Amelia is a monster who destroys everything she touches. And my family—” Professor Langley stopped, something almost like sorrow darting across his features.

“I know,” I said, flashing him a weak smile.

He returned it in kind. After a beat of silence, I headed towards the door.

As I slipped out, I glanced over my shoulder and caught a parting glimpse of Professor Langley, slumped in a chair near to the lectern, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared up at the ceiling.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I had done the right thing when it came to Amelia.

~

“What’s on your mind, Patricia? You’re unusually quiet today.”

I blinked up at Amelia, seated across from me. The only thing between us was a sheet of protective glass.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about my mother. And then all this additional work I have to do.”

Amelia was silent for a few seconds as she looked me in the eye. “Don’t bullshit me, Patsy. Spill it. What’s really going on.”

Fuck. I should have known I wouldn’t have been able to trick her.

Fine. If she wanted to play this game, I’d give it as good as I got. “Okay. You got me. Why didn’t you tell me about the parole hearing?”

The question seemed to catch Amelia by surprise as she raised her eyebrows. “Where did you hear that, Patsy? Were you sticking your nose in things that didn’t concern you again.”

“You’re evading, Amelia.”

“No,” said Amelia, slapping an open palm on the protective glass. “I just want to know the little snitch who told you I was going up for parole.”

“And lose out on my ear to the inside?” I said. “Hell no. You’re not the only one who gets to hold all the cards here.” Did she know I was lying through my teeth?

Amelia slammed the receiver down and stood to her feet. She stayed that way for a good few moments before she sat back down and picked up the receiver again. “Well, if you really want to know, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I’d get out. Fact of the matter is, I did something bad according to the unenlightened folks in charge and, if it was in their power, they’d keep me here until the day I died. Not that I’m complaining. I get free food, a bed and some people to help get through their childhood trauma and open up their eyes to the truth.”

“You’re evading again.”

“No. I’m not.”

Silence stretched between us as I plucked up the courage the one thing I’d wanted to ask ever since I’d got to the correction facility earlier in the day. “But, if given the choice, would you want to leave Amelia?”

She snorted. “Of course,” she answered with barely a pause. “None of the people in here get me. They posit theories of what’s wrong with me, never knowing that there’s nothing wrong with me. My mind is whole and I know who I am. The more pressing question is how well each of these psychiatrists know themselves or the work they do. I often wonder if even a single one of them knows what the DSM-5 is.”

“What’s a DSM-5?”

Amelia looked at me as if I’d grown a second head.

“What? I really don’t know. It’s not as if I’m studying psychology,” I said defensively.

“But you’re thinking on taking on a science major, aren’t you?” asked Amelia, arching one eyebrow.

“Yeah. Like microbiology or chemistry. Human behaviour follows certain patterns, true, but there are always exceptions. At least with hard science, you know everything will follow the rules. And if it doesn’t, there’s an explanation. A new rule to be discovered. But humans? They’re too contrary. They make up their own rules.”

“Do you really believe that, Patricia?”

I hoped my pointed stare would be enough. Out of all the people I knew, she was the one exception. I’d never seen anyone be able to belong to every single group in high school and none at all. More than that, Amelia seemed to stand above us mere mortals. As if she was another race entirely.

Her mind was a labyrinthine mystery, simple and complex in equal measure.

There were some days when I felt almost a kinship to Amelia. Where I felt I could understand the alien creature before me. Then there were days where Amelia felt completely and utterly unknowable.

Nevertheless, I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t quite understand. There was a part of me her words spoke to. A part of me that scared the living daylights out of the other personas I’d carefully curated over the years because it fed off the chaos.

And it was this part of me I swore to keep squashed down for I feared where it would lead me.

“Yes, Amelia. I do,” I said finally.

My answer was met with silence. When it became almost unbearable, I rose to my feet.

“Anyways, I’d better go. It’s been a long day and I’ve a lot on my mind.”

As I was about to put down the receiver, Amelia tapped the window to gain my attention and mimicked holding a phone. I put the receiver back against my ear. Her voice came through, sounding almost strained through the connection.

“Patsy. If you’re thinking of attending the parole hearing, let me give you some advice: Don’t.”

~

Lying on my bed at home, I stared up at the ceiling. It was easier to stay at home than go back to the dormitory when I visited Amelia at the juvenile detention centre. Besides, it was the weekend. And Sonia was off catching up with a friend from Minnesota who had come to visit.

What had Amelia meant?

Did she fear I would finally see sense and refuse to visit her? Afraid the words of others would finally sway me to see the light?

But given she had tried to kill me during our final year at Seven Oaks High, I doubted there was much that could be said to persuade me she was a danger. I already knew she was. And yet I still came back.

There was just something about Amelia that I couldn’t quite shake. No matter how many times I promised myself I would stop.

Beside me, my phone buzzed with a message. I picked it up, watching as it unlocked by scanning my face and opening to the last thing I’d been looking at. The DSM-5. Or The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Supposedly, it was the be-all and end-all when it came to diagnosing ailment a person might be suffering from when it came to mental illness.

While it was still a hefty tome, sitting at over 900 pages, it still boggled my mind that the entirety of the human mind and experience could be distilled into it.

It just didn’t seem right. Or possible.

My phone pinged again, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced up towards the notification.

Naomi: herd u in town? Evie wants 2 go out. U good for 7?

The offer was tempting. A chance to let my hair down after that talk with Amelia?

Yes, please.

And if I could get away with a little underage drinking, why shouldn’t I? Having to deal with Amelia would give any sane person a headache at the best of times. A part of me wondered if she did it only to seem complex and above the petty concerns of us mere mortals.

In any case, it was something I didn’t want to deal with right now. Especially given what Professor Langley had said earlier in the week.

Maybe it was something I could raise with Naomi and Evangeline? Surprisingly, the two of them could be quite prescient when needed.

I clicked open my messages and sent through a confirmation. Naomi’s reply came but a second later.

                Naomi: k, will come pick u up at 6. c u soon. xoxo

Smiling, I rose from my bed. I only had a few hours to get ready.

~

“Patsy, a word, if you would?”

Sonia quirked an eyebrow at me as she hovered near the exit, wondering if she ought to go ahead to her next lesson or wait up for me.

“I’ll be fine,” I mouthed at her. She nodded hesitantly before heading off. As the rest of the class petered out, I joined Professor Langley at his desk, waiting with my hands behind my back.

“So, have you given some thought to what I asked you last week?” he asked, barely looking up from the papers he was grading.

“I did.”

“And?”

“Um…I’m still not sure,” I answered. “I don’t really want to be involved in all this. And after…everything, I don’t want to relive it all at the parole hearing. The trial at the end of my year in high school was already terrible.”

At this, Professor Langley looked up sharply. Moments passed in heavy silence as he scrutinised my face with his piercing blue eyes. Finally, he put down his pen.

“I completely understand where you’re coming from, Patsy,” said Professor Langley. “My cousin, after all, was also reluctant at first.”

“Then—”

“Listen, Patsy, why don’t you take a seat.” Professor Langley gestured to the chair in front of his desk. As soon as I sat down, he continued, “The thing about Amelia is that she gets into your head. She got into my cousin’s head. Made her start wondering if any of this was real or not. And my cousin, well, she went down a very dark path until me and her parents were able to pull her back out again.”

“I’m so sorry—"

“No, Patsy. There’s nothing you need be sorry about. This is all Amelia’s doing. And take it from me, I just want to keep you safe. So, if you feel like you can’t attend the parole hearing, I completely understand. But if you could find it within yourself to maybe write a victim impact statement, I can help. It’s just…I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, you know?”

“No. Of course not. I understand.”

“Good. Good,” said Professor Langley. “Well, I suppose that’s it, then?” He rose to his feet and stuck out his hand out for me to shake.

I took it.

“See you next class, Patsy. And, um, if you ever want to talk about anything, just reach out.”

“Yes, of course.”

The silence hung between us for another awkward beat or two before I grabbed my things and hurried for the door. Thankfully, I didn’t have class immediately after or I would have been a good thirty or so minutes late.

Instead, I headed back to my dormitory, thoughts awhirl with what had just transpired with Professor Langley. As I entered my rooms, I was greeted by Sonia.

She jumped up from her bed as soon as the door creaked open.

“Patricia! I got so worried about what Langley wanted with you, I thought I’d wait for you here.”

“What about your next class?”

Sonia shrugged. “It’s not so important I can’t take some time out for a friend,” she said with a smile as she patted the bed next to her.

I sat down beside her, unsure of how much to tell her or if I should. Maybe if I came up with a lie about why Professor Langley wanted to talk to me? But what would work without it seeming like I was up to no good?

There were rumours already on campus that a few students were sleeping with their professors to get good grades. I didn’t want to be another statistic. Especially given how hard I worked to eke out my place here at college.

As I opened my mouth to speak, even as I was still figuring out what I wanted to say, Sonia cut me off. “I just want you to know that I’m here, Patrica. For anything and everything. Whenever you feel ready.”

“I…thank you, Sonia. It means a lot.”

Sonia nodded. “Well, it better.” Before I knew it, she’d caught me in an embrace.

For one brief instant, I felt completely and utterly seen. Sonia had been there for me through thick and thin since the start of college. To her, I was simply her roommate. More than that, I was a person with all the flaws and strengths such a thing entailed.

Even if it was the Patsy persona I’d carefully.

But it was enough. Right?

Patsy was enough. Right?

Before I could put a rein on my emotions, I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate.

Sonia held onto me tighter but it only served to make me feel claustrophobic. Before I could break out into tears, I pushed her away. “Sorry. I just need a moment to breathe,” I said, dabbing at the wetness at the corner of my eyes.

“Are you sure?”

I mustered up a fake smile as I rose to my feet. “Yes. Sorry. You just took me by surprise and then the whole thing with Professor Langley earlier, I guess I’m just a little bit emotional. But thank you, Sonia. For being here for me.”

Sonia smiled up at me. “Always, Patricia. Always.”

~

I was one of the last to slip into the court along with a journalist from the local paper. Thankfully, neither Professor Langley or Amelia noticed as I took in the seat in the back and whipped off my sunglasses. Professor Langley I understood as he whispered fervently to a woman about my age. His cousin, perhaps?

But Amelia? Usually, she was so sharp. Or maybe that was how she wanted others to perceive her. As the smartest person in any given room.

Here, though?

Despite her attempts to try and look strong, Amelia looked nothing more than a little lost girl who was finally out of her depth. As the judge took his seat and brought the court to order, Amelia looked only at her lawyer and her face a little wan. There was no-one else she could rely on, after all.

None of her family had chosen to attend.

Much like when the case had first gone to trial. And according to Amelia, not a single one of them had come to visit her while she was being held in juvenile detention. Not her mom. Not her dad. Not even her younger sister who Amelia said she was closest with.

The hearing dragged on as the judge made a show of going through the documents that had been submitted.

As always, Amelia’s expression was inscrutable. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking as reports of her poor behaviour whilst held in detention were read out.

One story stood out to me.

In a dispassionate voice, the judge outlined an incident where Amelia had stolen a fellow inmate’s towel. But while Amelia had blown it off as an anecdotal event, here, the full story was told.

Amelia had taken the towel the day after an altercation between the inmate in the prison cafeteria. The guards had witnessed Amelia calling the other girl several crass insults including a ‘slut-whore pig who needed to be taught manners.’ And while Amelia had returned the towel, it had been under threat of solitary confinement. The towel, in question, had been returned as torn pieces and stained with a foul-smelling liquid.

Then there were the psychiatry sessions where Amelia either proved bullish, refusing to engage with the therapist, or broke down sobbing in the room as a manipulation tactic to garner sympathy.

Listening to it all, I couldn’t help but feel sick.

When she had tried to kill me during the end of senior year, she had said the two of us were alike and that the only thing holding me back was my inability to be authentically my ‘true’ self. But I had to wonder if any of her words held any truth to it.

This woman before me: did she even know who she was or what she really wanted?

And as I watched her performance up in the dock – for it was a performance – I came to realise the complicated weave Amelia had created to hide away her true self. Everything I knew, from the talks we shared to the person she presented during her time at Seven Oaks High had all been an act.

And she, like every good liar, had even managed to convince herself that this was who she was.

For so long, she had pushed me to embrace who I really was. Yet, all the fucking time, she’d been putting up a front to pretend she was a puzzle box waiting to be solved instead of the broken and lonely girl that she truly was.

It made me angry.

But it also made me sick to my stomach.

I’d been as like a puppet to her, dancing always to the tune she played.

She had wanted to keep me confused. To always be second-guessing myself. And to see her as the only one with all the answers when instead, it had all been fucking bullshit!

What made it all the worse was the fact I’d fucking let her.

As one of her solicitors raised an objection, I sharply rose to my feet. A few heads turned in my direction but I only had eyes on Amelia as I made my way past the journalists and exited the courtroom. Fuming with indignation.

~

It was an old photo sometime between Amelia’s sixth and ninth birthday. She was hiding behind a lamppost Her hair was long and lanky, and the clothes she wore were tacky at best. In the foreground, her parents and sister were posed for the camera in Halloween costumes.

Although I had performed a cursory search online on Amelia back when she had first attended Seven Oaks High, I’d mostly been focused on why she had chosen to attend Seven Oaks High.

After the trial, I’d been tempted to uncover more of Amelia’s secrets online but had worried I would only find details of her attempt on my life. Or see my name featured in some news article.

In school, there had been several unsavoury rumours I’d overheard in the cafeteria. Back then, I’d dismissed them. Especially because I hadn’t been able to find much of anything when I did a cursory online.

But some had whispered Amelia’s expulsion had been a lover’s tryst gone wrong. Others had said I was the one who had tried to kill Amelia instead.

And if those were the rumours in school, I feared the misinformation that would have spread online.

But after scouring the internet and searching through any and all social media accounts for one Amelia Cardum, I finally stumbled upon an Instagram account for a Belinda Cardum nee Gains. Investigating further, I also uncovered her LinkedIn and Facebook profiles.

Lo and behold! A photo from the distant past with Amelia lurking in the shadows and watching on with envy.

I don’t know what it said about her as a person.

Maybe she was simply the jealous sort and hated how she wasn’t the centre of attention. Or perhaps, when the photo was taken, she had simply suffered a bad day and she was throwing a tantrum.

It was more telling that this was the only photo of Amelia I’d managed to find despite endless hours scouring social media. Despite being friends with her mother on Facebook, she was never tagged on any posts. Her profile picture, as well, was a default image from the old Microsoft Windows user account pictures.

But that was little to go on considering she kept everything private.

Clicking back to her mother’s profile, all the photos I could find were either related to food or of Rose, Amelia’s younger sister. The most recent photo, posted just last week, was of Rose. She’d won a medal from a swimming competition for under 16s.

I leaned back in my chair.

Who was Amelia really?

Despite all the time I’d spent with her, I still knew so little about who she was. There were too many contradictions. She was both charmingly naïve and a vindictive sadist. Intelligent and yet also out of her depth.

There were just so many layers.

How did one go about unravelling it all?

Or perhaps, none of it was an act. All of it is Amelia at her core. Unstable though it may be, whispered a dark voice in my head. And true, that too was also a possibility.

I had a feeling Amelia was a girl at the end of her rope. She knew she had done something terrible. But whether or not it had sunk in properly was still up in the air.

It explained why she seemed so standoffish when I asked her about the hearing. In her head, perhaps, Amelia felt she had been in the right. Most people did.

And though I was loathe to admit it, I was a bitch in high school. I’d been so utterly jealous of Amelia. So consumed with the thought of destroying the perfect image she had of being able to so smoothly navigate the various cliches with ease. It was something I wished I’d been able to do even as I clung to my status as Queen Bee with Evangeline and Naomi hanging onto me as the vapid sycophants of my posse.

Heck, I didn’t even know why I’d gravitated towards them in freshman year.

Naomi wasn’t very popular. She was pretty but could be casually cruel without meaning to. And every boy within a five-mile radius wanted to bang her.

There had been an altercation in the cafeteria where one of the other students confronted Naomi about sleeping with her boyfriend. I’d stepped in before it had come to blows. Looking at Naomi’s wide-eyed wonder, I couldn’t help taking her under my wing.

Evangeline, on the other hand, was a mess. She wanted to look like the models in Playboy magazines and was always looking up beauty gurus on Tiktok or YouTube. Unfortunately for her, she had two buck teeth and parents who couldn’t afford to have it fixed.

Over the years, though, she made it work for her.

And the three of us came to dominate Seven Oaks High during our four years there.

As I very much learned, being Queen Bee was all about projecting confidence and manifesting one’s own popularity. Anyone could do it with the right mindset.

For me, that came in the form of Trish. I’d moulded her from every single resource I could find because I couldn’t face another four years of being teased for all the things I actually liked and cared about. When I was Trish, everything else was suppressed. She was my mask. And my protector.

Without her, I doubt I would have survived.

More importantly, though, through Trish, I learned of another part that comprised me as a whole. I learned that I did like hanging out with Naomi and Evangeline even though they weren’t the brightest people around. I learned I didn’t always have to be the straight-A perfect student I thought my parents wanted me to be.

And I learned it was okay to let myself have fun.

It was something the old Patricia – the one who had become Pat – would never have allowed. Or thought possible.

Amelia, though, would have probably said it was all ‘fake’ and I needed to strip it all down until I was the raw unvarnished version of me. But what Amelia didn’t understand was that this wasn’t the entirety of who I was either. It wouldn’t be the whole me either.

My time at college had also shown how people could change.

By trying new things and going through our lives, we grew. No longer was I insecure about who I was. I could be freer to be closer to my true self with Naomi, Evangeline and even Sonia.

But Amelia wasn’t me. And I wasn’t her.

She had thought she had found a kindred spirit, but I was more than the clone she was trying to make me into.

I shut off the browser, sicked to my stomach that I’d wasted so many hours trying to research Amelia to figure out who she was. Once more, I’d played right into her hands. This was what she wanted me to do. Professor Langley, too, could forget about asking me to provide a victim impact statement.

The last thing I wanted to do was dwell on Amelia Cardum for a moment longer.

I had a life to live.

~

“Patsy, I would like a word,” said Professor Langley as I was packing away my belongings.

“I actually have something on afterwards, sir. Could this not be an email?”

“This won’t take long,” replied Professor Langley, shutting down any further protest.

I exchanged a look with Sonia. ‘What do you think he wants?’ she mouthed at me. I shrugged. After my decision to cut Amelia Cardum out of my life, I’d tried to avoid Professor Langley as much as I could. The way he acted as soon as her name was even mentioned felt like a man obsessed.

Even though Amelia hadn’t ruined his life, or had tried to murder them at the bleachers, he seemed intent to keep her behind bars for the entirety of her sentence. It made me wonder what Amelia had done to his cousin. He’d alluded to a few things before but hadn’t exactly stated outright what had happened.

I’d seen a young girl seated next to him at the parole hearing. At the time, I’d thought it was the cousin in question but I wasn’t so sure now.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” I said, swinging my backpack over my left shoulder.

“Ah, Patsy. Yes. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Um, no. I really do have something on later. I’d like to stand. Sir.”

Professor Langley’s brow furrowed for a brief moment, his lips thinning, before he flashed her a smile. “Why, yes. That’s fine.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. Bag over my shoulder, I waited for Professor Langley to continue. He didn’t disappoint.

With gusto, Professor Langley began. “I know you said you didn’t want to be involved but I thought I’d give you an update on the parole hearing for Amelia Cardum. You see—”

“Sir, whilst I thank you for keeping me in your thoughts, I would prefer you not mention her name in my presence. I’ve decided to move one and no longer wished to be reminded of what had proved a most harrowing time during my final year in high school.”

“Yes, that’s a very understandable sentiment. But what I wanted to tell you is that we’re going to see her locked up for a very long time. Just like she deserves.”

“Why do you care so much? She didn’t hurt you. Not directly, at least.”

Professor Langley’s cheeks flushed red. “Patsy, there’s no need to be so aggressive. Don’t you want the same thing? Amelia ruined your life, just like she did my cousin’s.”

“Maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t. I don’t want to think on it anymore. I just want to live my life and enjoy it again.”

“Don’t you think I want the same thing?” exclaimed Professor Langley, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I look at Nadine and all I can see is the broken girl Amelia left behind.”

I looked away, scratching at my upper arm. “Yeah, well…that’s not my problem.”

“Isn’t it? Did you know Nadine tried to take her own life six months after Amelia attacked her? She was hospitalised and her parents were shattered. And all Nadine would say about the event was that she ‘wasn’t living her authentic self.’ I ask you: is that fair?”

“No,” I said finally. “But what more do you want from me? According to you, she’ll be behind bars to serve out her sentence in full.”

At my question, Professor Langley looked askance. “It’s nothing important,” he said, playing with a pen on his desk. “Just, there were a few things that came to light during the parole hearing I wanted to clarify with you.”

As he looked up at me, there was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. As if he was seeing me for the first time in a new light. I didn’t like it.

Nervously, I readjusted my bag. “I’m really sorry, sir. But I really have to head off to my next class.”

“Yes, yes. I understand. But Patsy, think on what I said, yes? I’d really like to have a chat. Just you and me. Maybe over a coffee?”

~

“—freaking believe it? Like, he had no right to talk to me like that!”

“You go, Tricia! I hope you smack him upside the head next lecture,” said Naomi. She downed a second can of vodka spritz. “What a creep!”

“And he sounds like he’s super obsessed. Like, does he hate Amelia or does he want to, you know, fuck her?” asked Evangeline.

Michael Sanchez plopped down in the chair next to his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek. He put down a bowl of chips. “What’s this about fucking cause Evie and I have been getting it on like rabbits. We’re going to have a huge family. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

“Yes, that’s right, honey drizzle.”

I fought down the urge the vomit. Sometimes Michael and Evie could be far too extra for their own good. It was like they wanted to shove their perfect relationship down everyone’s throat.

It was nauseating.

But I managed to plaster a fake smile on my face as I said, “Oh, you know, my Economics Professor and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Ah. Yes.” Michael nodded sagely. As he grabbed a chip and bit into it. “How is Amelia doing anyways?”

His question threw me off. I blinked stupidly up at him for several seconds, trying to compute what he had asked.

“What do you mean?” I said finally.

“You see her, don’t you?” answered Michael with a shrug. “My dad works at the juvenile detention centre she’s in. Tells me you visited her pretty often. I figured it was because you wanted to wrap your head around her actions or seek closure.”

I stared at him agog, mouth open wide, and unable to mount any type of retort.

Michael Sanchez, it seemed, was a dangerous man. And if I wasn’t careful, my whole life could unravel at the drop of a hat.

Naomi looked in my direction. “Is that true, Tricia? You’ve gone to see Amelia?”

I covered up my momentary lapse by snagging a chip and popping it into my mouth. “It’s just like Sanchez said. I wanted to understand what made Amelia tick. And what, you know, actually triggered that episode. It just seemed so extreme. You know?”

“Really?” asked Naomi, looking unconvinced.

“What else do you want me to say?” I grabbed another chip, popped it into my mouth and chewed. All the while, I stared dead at Naomi, daring her to challenge me.

Naomi was the first to look away, disgust clear on her face.

“Well,” interrupted Evie after several uncomfortable seconds, “I think we should all get something to drink, yeah? Naomi, want to come with?”

Before I could protest, my two best friends from high school hurried to the bar and I was left alone with Michael Sanchez. In the summer or so since graduating, the runt of the football team had filled out. Though his grades hadn’t been the best, he still managed to secure a spot at the local community college and was thinking of studying physiotherapy.

“So,” said Michael after the silence between us became heavy, “how are things at that special school you been going to?”

“Good. Great, actually.”

“Dating anyone?”

“No.”

“Shame. I thought you and Brad were good.”

“Yeah. It was nice while it lasted,” I said taking a sip from my already empty glass. “How is he, by the way? Brad.”

“Oh, he’s doing good. He’s looking to become a personal trainer.”

“That’s nice.”

Sanchez grinned. “Isn’t it? He’s just so motivated to have a good future and expand his horizons. I kinda envy him.”

“How are you and Evie going, by the way?” I asked.

Before Sanchez could respond, Evie and Naomi returned with four drinks in hand. They plonked them down on the table, none too gently.

“What did we miss?” asked Evie with a saccharine smile. She glanced at her boyfriend and I could see Sanchez squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Despite the affection they often displayed in public, I couldn’t help but sense there was trouble between them. That the lovey-dovey couple I was often tortured with was just a performance.

Much like how Almeria had been during the parole hearing.

The thought made my gut churn.

Why did it seem like everywhere I turned, people were always pretending? Why was no-one ever as authentic as they so claimed?

I hated it. I hated it with every fibre of my being.

Were Evangeline and Naomi even my friends anymore? Or were they pretending as they secretly gossiped about me behind my back?

It became too much.

There was a loud thumping in my ear. And not too far, I could hear the belaboured heavy breaths of someone nearby. It took me far longer than I expected to realise that it was me. By then, my chest had tightened, constricting until it seemed I could barely get any air in, and my vision darkened. I tried to fight it by rising onto my unsteady feet even as I kept a tight hold of the table.

Before I could even say something or reach out to anyone, the faces of everyone around me vanished into nothingness and I knew no more.

~

I woke to the flashing of red and blue lights, and the night sky above me. When I tried to sit up, to make sense of what was happening, I couldn’t. Something was holding me down. It sat tight across my chest and my wrists.

Fuck. What was going on?

Desperate, I tried to get up again, squirming to free myself from my binds. Even as something slimy came crawling up my throat.

It took me a moment to realise it was fear. Cold and dark and oh so frightening.

I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know where my friends were. And all I wanted to do was scream and cry and plead for someone to come over and help me.  

As if they had sensed my wish, I heard the rush of footsteps to my left. Dark russet entered my field of vision.

Naomi. It had to be Naomi.

I tried to say her name but I couldn’t seem to make my lips form the letters.

“She’s awake! Tricia is awake!” Naomi called over her shoulder.

There were more footsteps and then Evie and Michael Sanchez were crowded around me. Every one was talking at once and none of it made sense.

“Do you think she knows what’s happened?”

“Won’t attack me again, will she?”

“They’ve got her restrained, if that’s what has you frightened.”

“Yeah, but what if she can, I don’t know, hulk out? You know, like The Hulk?”

“Sanchez, are you still high? Evie, I know he’s your boyfriend but I’d rather you found someone with a few more braincells.”

I tried to process the cacophony of voices, taking deep breaths as I tried to centre myself. It looked like we were still near the nightclub but I was on a stretcher, presumably, to be taken to hospital. But besides the throbbing at my left temple, forewarning me of an incoming migraine, I felt fine.

“W-what’s going on?” I forced through chapped lips in a low rasp.

“Tricia…” Naomi turned back to me, some unknown expression flitting across her face. “What do you remember?”

Once more, I tried to sit up but was prevented from doing so. “I-I don’t know,” I said, licking my dry lips as I tried to recall the events of the night. “We were talking about things. How I was doing at college. And I think Amelia?”

I paused, waiting for Naomi or Evangeline to nod. They did so and I continued, drawing strength from a hidden reserve I didn’t know I had.

“You and Evie went to get drinks. Then, everything went dark. W-what happened? Why does Sanchez think I tried to attack him? And why am I being restrained?”

Naomi and Evangeline exchanged a look while Sanchez looked on, a diffident grin on his face.

“Well…” began Evangeline. “You staggered forward and Naomi caught you. And then, you started acting really strange.”

“It was like you were a completely different person,” added Naomi. “You immediately flinched away from me, started to accuse me of being a fake friend. Said you knew Evie and Sanchez were having problems with their relationship. Told us we were all pretending to be good people. It was all very hurtful, so Sanchez tried to confront you. But then you lashed out at him, almost managed to hit him with a glass.”

I listened to her recount with growing horror as a chill went down my spine.

“And then, I don’t know, you stiffened. Before anyone could stop you, you grabbed a toothpick and lunged for Sanchez. He ducked out of the way, of course, and then, I don’t know what happened exactly but you slumped down onto the ground and started twitching.”

“It was fuckin’ scary,” said Sanchez. “Thought you were goin’ rabid, you know?”

“I-is that why you t-thought I was going to ‘Hulk’ out?”

Sanchez scratched the back of his head. “Heard that, yeah? Well, I’m good to see you’re back to normal. But the paramedics say they’ll still need to run a few tests ‘fore they’re willin’ to clear you.”

“W-where’s my phone?”

“Here,” said Naomi, putting my iPhone into my right hand. “I called your mother earlier. Told her what happened.”

“Thanks.”

There was a moment’s pause before Naomi bent down over, her voice low as if she didn’t want Evangeline or Sanchez to hear. “Listen, Tricia…I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you need someone to talk to, I know a good psychiatrist. You went through some mad trauma with Amelia. I mean, I’ve been seeing a therapist recently too, you know. Just to wrap my head round high school and everything else.”

I looked away. “I’ll think on it.”

“Cool,” said Naomi before straightening up. “Well, looks like the questioning is almost all done. Paramedics will be taking you to the local hospital. Message us later, yeah?”

“Okay.”

~

For the first time since high school, I felt overwhelmed. Burdened by the masks I still juggled in order to segment my life and give it some semblance of order. There were too many things to keep in mind, though Naomi and Evie had already seen shades of who I really was.

After all, it’s not everyday that the Queen Bee also manages to snag a 3.8 GPA.

As I stared up at the ceiling of my dormitory, after being released by the hospital, I couldn’t help but go over the events of the night two days ago. Something was deeply wrong, I felt.

Yes, I’d been irritated by how Naomi and Evie had kept pressing me about Amelia but I hadn’t expected to lash out as I did.

By all accounts, I had another persona lurking underneath the surface. A violent one that was willing to drag my friends down be it verbally or physically.

And it was that very fact keeping me up despite the late hour and classes due to begin in the next three hours.

I felt terrified. Out of control.

What if it happened again?

Could I, perhaps, turn into another Amelia?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine as I shifted to my side and tried to snatch a couple hours of rest before my alarm went off. Sonia, just a few feet away, continued to snore, blissfully unaware to the inner turmoil I found myself in.

Like every good friend, she had asked how I was when I returned late yesterday to our dormitory. Had said I looked haggard and tired. And because I didn’t want to acknowledge what the last 36 hours had been like, I’d lied. Had told her I was feeling stressed about the upcoming exams and had a bad panic attack while I was out.

Sonia had nodded, though the concern on her face remained.

“If you need anything, Patsy, just let me know,” she had said before returning back to her desk and putting her headphones back on as she watched a film on Netflix. It wasn’t one I knew though I caught a glimpse of Ryan Reynolds and Gal Godot on the screen.

Guilt had churned in my stomach. A part of me wanted to tell her everything. And yet I tamped down on the words on the tip of my tongue.

In the end, we had both gone to bed, pretending everything was fine.

But I knew Sonia didn’t believe me. And the thought weighed on me as I showered and put on my PJs. I turned our conversation over and over as I pulled the covers up to my chin.

And as I stared at the wall, it gnawed at my insides and leading me to spiral down old familiar paths.

Maybe there was something to be said about going to therapy. If it could cure me of the heavy anxiety weighing down on my chest, perhaps my life would be a lot better.

Yet, doing so would leave me exposed. Vulnerable.

It meant admitting something was wrong with me.

And that was untenable.

I’d prided myself for picking myself up by the bootstraps and reinventing myself while in high school to become the popular girl. All the while, juggling the expectations of my parents and the teachers. I couldn’t simply throw in the towel right now and mentally break down.

I was stronger than this.

After all, I’d survived an attack by a madwoman.

By that token, I was wonderfully sane in comparison. Yes, I was struggling to find my own authentic voice, but I was thriving member of society, able to converse with ease to just about anyone.

It didn’t matter that it was usually inane small talk and I couldn’t divulge many of my actual interests. Nobody truly cared about what Patricia wanted or thought about. And that was fine with me. I could be a chameleon. A jack-of-all-trades as it were.

And that meant I didn’t need medication. Nor did I need to talk to someone about non-existent traumas.

What I needed was a walk to clear my head and to refocus on the things important to me. And squash down on any stray musings as fast as possible.

Everything was going to be okay.

If I believed it hard enough, surely it would come true.

~

Things went from bad to worse as the semester dragged on.

Professor Langley continued to hound me about my relationship with Amelia. He wanted to know every little detail about my interactions with her during my time in high school and the details of her attack on me in the two weeks leading up to prom.

I hadn’t wanted to tell him anything until he started to threaten to fail me for being difficult.

 Fear had crept up my throat then.

In school, I was Patsy. I was meant to be smart and get good grades and be involved in extracurricular school activities like protesting climate change. But Professor Langley was threatening to upend all of that.

Finding it difficult to find the words I wanted to say to the professor, I’d exited the lecture hall, making sure to slam the door behind me, before hurrying to the nearest toilet. Inside a stall, I’d tried to calm myself from the impending panic attack threatening to seize me in its grip.

That was when I had my second blackout.

When I came to, I was out in the quadrangle near the library. People were staring down at me, none of whom I knew. One of them, a girl with short brown hair, took me to the health centre. She sat with me as I was looked over by a nurse before being declared I was fit and healthy.

It was only later in the week I learned someone had trashed Professor Langley’s car by puncturing the tyres and scrawling the word: Pedo Groomer on the windshield with black paint.

I knew then what had happened.

Despite Sonia’s best efforts to calm me down, I closed myself off. Even playing Honkai: Star Rail was unable to help get my mind of things.

My grades began to slip, feeding into my ever-growing desperation to maintain the façade I wore at college.

I was at my wit’s end.

As the weeks rolled on, I knew what I needed most were answers.

To figure out what was happening to me.

And the only person I could turn to was Amelia.

Although I’d sworn to disavow her, Amelia Cardum was now my only lifeline. Last I’d heard, she had been transferred to a woman’s prison after her application for parole had been rejected.

I would visit her during the weekend. Maybe confront her over the lies she’d told me over the intervening months to garner my sympathy. And discover, once and for all, who Amelia Cardum truly was behind the persona she projected, thinking it was the one I wanted to see.

~

Amelia sauntered into the room looking like she had all the time in the world as she approached the tempered glass screen separating the prisoners from the visitors. Gone was the demure frightened girl from the hearing. Instead, Amelia looked like she was in her element, if the smirk on her face as she reached for the receiver was anything to go by.

“Hello Patricia.” Her voice came through the receiver strong. “It’s been a while. But I always knew you’d come back.”

I frowned at her. “Don’t act like you know me.”

“Oh, Patricia, but I do.” Amelia smiled sweetly at me despite her gaunt frame and dark circles under her eyes. “So, how many blackouts has it been now?”

Fear spiked down my spine.

How did she know? Trapped inside a prison, Amelia shouldn’t have been privy to that information. Unless…

I schooled my expression, not wanting to let slip my real thoughts. But perhaps I was too late because Amelia continued, “You’re surprised. Probably questioning how I know. Rest assured Patrica, nobody has told me anything. I just know. Because you and I, we’re the same.”

“When did they start happening for you? The blackouts, I mean.”

“Middle-school. It became worse in high school. But when I was transferred to Seven Oaks, I learned how to control it. Want to know how?”

I stared at the woman before me, trying to spot a hint of madness in Amelia’s eyes, but I couldn’t find it. AlthoughI still remembered what Professor Langley had told me, I was desperate to seek any help I could get. And I knew Amelia held the answers I sought. “Tell me,” I said, finally.

Amelia leaned back in her chair. “I learned to accept who I was,” she said with a shrug. “No longer would I be beholden to the expectations society had thrust upon me. My first act, of course, was to take down all my social media accounts. I hated all the past photos I’d put up to play pretend at being the happy perfect girl I had been. I would finally live my truth. Just like you should yours, Patricia.”

“And what is my truth?” I demanded.

The knowing smirk on Amelia’s face stretched wider.

It was only then I realised I had fallen into her trap.

Instead of answering, Amelia hung her receiver back on its hook. She motioned to one of the guards and they came to escort her out and back to her cell.

“You can’t leave me like this! Amelia! I need answers! I need your help!” I slammed against the glass separating us with the palm of my hands, loathing boiling up inside me as my vision tunnelled until all I could see was her orange jumpsuit vanishing behind the cold steel door leading further into the prison.

[kyndaris]

Deciphering the Language of the Younger Generations

As someone who has always liked the concept of studying the civilisations of the past, I often wonder how future archaeologists will come to see the 21st century. Would we be seen as technophiles with unfettered hubris who sleepwalked the world to its downfall? Or will our stories vanish up into the intangible Cloud - with the only remains of who we might have been merely the physical artefacts of our time?

If so, how will they understand the evolution of our languages? Will the memes we've shared become the basis of their society or will they deem the slang we use in our everyday life meaningless gobbledegook?

I mean, let's be honest, our habit of initialising actual sentences are difficult even for someone in this era to decipher. Sure, you have the ones most commonly used: wyd, idgaf or iykyk, but I have to wonder what a future linguist will make of the below: dypynitgof!

For those who know the phrase I just put down, props to you. It will certainly live on in internet history for a good long while.

Still, why are there so many initialisms floating out on the internet?

They aren't even acronyms (or TAEA for short!)

Sometimes, though, it feels like I'm living in a real world Clockwork Orange with how new fads and memes spring into existence. I certainly don't know what skibidi rizz means. or what the designation of sigma means in a relationship though I have stumbled upon such words because I'm a chronically online Millennial seeking to be in touch with the wider societal zeitgeist.

But it's all so tiring!

And most, if not all, don't make a lick of sense (I also refuse to Google their meanings. It's certainly a rabbit hole I don't wish to go down. I've seen so many things and not all of them have made my life better.

Of course, it helps I'm not the only who is lost when interacting with the younger generations. Although, poor Sorrengail has more Gen Z staff at her workplace than I. Worse, she made the terrible error of mixing Gen Alpha lingo when she was trying to connect with her work minions. I, on the other hand, simply learn from my exposure to the occasional YouTube shorts and Meta reels I decide to watch (TikTok is not on my phone. Thank goodness for that!).

Then, of course, slang is mixed in with shorthand, thus furthering my frustrations when it comes to clearcut communication. I've seen them in emails, messages on teams, rants on Reddit...

It is maddening!

And people also have no idea how to spell! Even published authors or writers for video games will occasionally confuse 'lead' with 'led.' In conversation, people will use 'should of' instead of 'should have.' Or, just to show my age, or, at least, my curmudgeon elitism, terrible grammar. Even though English might be their first, and only, language!

Let it be known that I am one of those 'annoying' texters who use proper spelling and punctuation in all my texts. In fact, I am physically incapable of doing anything less! To use text shorthand in any shape or form is actually painful. I have to use more brainpower to type incorrectly!

Which, honestly, feels very ironic.

Then, of course, there's the prolific use of emojis! Back in my MSN Messenger days, I'd use a few like XD, :D or :( but using them as a replacement of actual sentences? Blasphemy!

I still don't understand how people can use them as their sole means of communications. When I use them, it's a means to express tone. Otherwise, people may misinterpret a sentence I send through as a form of aggression or disapproval (unless, of course, they know me very well). Although, admittedly, my use of emojis is quite boomer-esque. Or so I feel. And which my friends may attest.

Don't get me started on stickers!

Still, it's also important to realise language is ever changing. It is not static. Etymology is the very STUDY of how words have changed throughout history. For example, excitement used to mean emotional agitation and arousal. It was a synonym to being nervous and anxious. Nowadays, though, excitement usually has positive connotations.

A hundred years from now, maybe it'll mean something completely different (if we live long enough to see it). In fact, we might have other words rising in favour as an alternative!

With language, nearly anything is possible.

What was once old can be new again!

Then, of course, there's the whole concept of 'coining' new words to better express ourselves! Shakespeare, it is said, invented over 1,700 new words!

In other news, I composed a faux email for a presentation at work, throwing in as many Gen Z slang that I could. Adopting an 'influencer' voice, I read it aloud to all present on the Microsoft Teams meeting. Some praised it. Others abhorred it. But, no cap, I think I impressed many with how I skillfully managed it all!

Not to mention the variation of Do You Hear The People Sing I sang at the very end (without the support of my colleagues - still a bit miffed about this as it's meant to be sung as part of a chorus) to further sell how our work team is a great area that many should join.

But in all honesty, can we stop trying to make skibidi or fanum tax a thing?

I know I said I was annoyed by 'fam' and 'squad' and 'shooketh' before. But MY GOODNESS, THINGS HAVE GOTTEN OUT OF CONTROL!

And don't get me started on people using incorrect 'Alpha' and 'Beta' and 'Sigma' designations to describe people. It's just as bad, if not worse, than distilling people to their biological parts!

Before too long, REAL humans will start growling. Or their noses will become so sharp they can sniff out the scent of pine or a thunderstorm.

If I have to read female, male and mates one more time...

But before I sign off, though, let it be known that language is important. And while I do bemoan how FAR language has fallen, the way governments or people try to control it, is what we should be more careful of. That insidious infiltration of how we all talk, or the limitations of what words we use, can lead down the slippery slope of a dystopian nightmare. Yes, I may have namedropped A Clockwork Orange but the reality of 1984 and A Brave New World also come to mind.

These are not the worlds we want to live in. So, go forth Gen Z and Gen Alpha and invent new words as you go along.

Just maybe not 'skibidi' or 'fanum tax.'

Thank you!

[kyndaris]

Stale Bread

Growing up, I've always hated how toys were divided between boys and girls. Especially given the limited number of things that were acceptable for girls to play with while boys would have multiple aisles filled with fun things like Lego, science experiments and action figures. Even back then, I hadn't much liked how interests could be so rigidly divded.

Nor did I like being relegated to wearing frumpy school dresses when part of the uniform was a shirt and shorts. In fact, it was a point of contention back in primary school with my mother. During one of the school photos, she had demanded I wear the dress rather than what I was comfortable with.

It should come as no surprise that I was considered a 'tomboy' in school.

But though films and movies would have you believe I'd finally figure out the secrets of make-up and try to dress to impress in order to snag myself a man by the time I hit university, this never happened. Putting on make-up forever remains a mystery. Yes, I understand it's socially expected that I be patting on a layer of foundation and giving my lips a touch of rouge, but it just feels completely antithetical to who I am as a person.

Why are women expected to powder themselves up to appeal to the not as fair sex? Why do we need to shave our legs and armpits? More than that, why was it fine for me to run around shirtless when I was a child but not socially acceptable now that my mammary glands have developed?

If women can't free the nip, and it's considered crass if the nodules can be seen through the shirt, then I'm voting for men to do the same. I don't need to men nips peeking through their thin shirts. Nor do I want to see their rolls of fat as they take their shirts off during a run. Especially if women can't do the same without it being seen as unseemly.

As the years have gone by and new labels have appeared, I did wonder if my antipathy towards gender stereotypes painted me as non-binary. I, certainly, wasn't the image of the typical woman with typical feminine interests and hobbies. But the more I thought on why such a label was required, the more I pushed against it.

The whole idea of the divide between 'masculine' and 'feminine' simply didn't make sense. And by choosing to be non-binary, I was also conforming to the idea that because I wasn't feminine enough, I had to straddle the line between the two. Even though I'd come to terms with the fact I'd never have a flat enough chest, and suffer through monthly bouts of menstruating (I also wanted to be taller and skinnier, but let's not go into beauty standards on this post).

Why couldn't I be who I was - a woman who liked video games, books and horses?

And though the idea of whether I might be trans did cross my mind, the years of being mistaken for a boy because of my unisex name further solidified my gender identity for me - but also because I didn't have significant body dysmorphia leading me to severe distress in terms of the body I had (although being more athletic and capable of doing backflips would have been a bonus. Unfortunately, I don't think science is at the stage to give me the ideal body I want). Besides, I can't have been the only one who has wondered what it might be like to be the opposite sex and the advantages that come with it.

On the other hand, biology is a strange beast. Yes, there are certain markers to differentiate males and females of a species, but none of it is universal. Female hyenas, after all, have more testosterone than their male counterparts. Male birds are more flamboyantly coloured to attract a mate.

Then, of course, if you throw in intersex individuals, the whole dichotomy between man and woman collapses in its entirety. After all, where do you put intersex people if the system is binary in nature?

From a dating perspective, meeting and chatting with people who have transitioned has certainly opened my eyes to a few things. And it's definitely been a different experience to dating cisgendered men and women.

While I have yet to actually go on a date with a trans woman, some of our chats have been quite productive as we strive to seek a connection on shared interests. True, one stopped chatting when Starfield released and pivoted their focus on the latest release from Bethesda, but the other was enthusiastic about pursuing new skills and hobbies.

Neither one of them led me to suspect this was all a means to 'threaten' or 'undermine' women. They were people simply living their lives in a way that best suited them.

And both of them were much easier to chat with than the trans man I did actually meet up with two weeks ago as of time of writing. For the sake of simplicity, though, I'll codename them Tip Top (because they're as bland as white bread).

From the outset, Tip Top was a difficult person to converse with. They seemed to have an obsession with pushing aside any type of heteronormative narrative when it came to how relationships formed - while still falling within the traps of what differentiates romance from friendship. They also liked to unnecessarily explain or clarify things. For example: danmei novels, which are essentially BL (boys love) by another name.

Then, of course, there was the way they pushed aside their cultural and ethnic heritage. While I understood they had issues with their family (something they implied in relation to their transition), it bothered me to no end how they also rejected almost anything relating to, as they described it, 'Western pop culture.' Which was one of the reasons why they disliked trivia or word-association board games.

It was a difficult thing to process. Especially given my two loves: Disney and the written word. I'm a veritable thesaurus with how much I read (and write)! To have someone target the very things I love in the first meeting, well, it dismayed me. A lot.

But it also made me wonder how much Tip Top actually engaged with the wider world.

As I've shown in my travel posts, I love engaging with the various cultures across the world. Truth, as is almost always the case, is stranger than fiction. The events that have shaped the trajectory of the world is fascinating. And seeing the world through the eyes of different people was the EXACT reason I fell in love with reading in the first place.

Given the limited time we have in the world, and the fixed perspective we have, it is eye-opening for me to see how others might interpret the world. So, knowing that Tip Top purposely closed themselves off, was a difficult pill to swallow.

Although, I can't say I was surprised.

In the past, I've known other people who, like Tip Top, seemed to have lived sheltered lives or who show no curiosity about the world they live in. All of their focus is turned inward, with many of their views coming off as narrow-minded. Especially when they espouse dogma they've, no doubt, taken from people around them rather than develop their own views.

It can even make them seem self-centred and entitled.

Perhaps, it was as Tip Top said, that they didn't have many friends in high school. And hadn't been keen to connect with anyone because they were only living 'half a life.' And yet, I'm sure there are certainly a lot of trans people out there who still managed to be socially engaging with those around them prior to taking hormones and/ or surgery.

In the end, our conversations stuttered over Sunday brunch as Tip Top only seemed interested in asking me shallow questions and then refusing to truly engage with any of my answers. Whereas I tried to coax out more about who they were as a person, focusing on what they said their hobbies were on their profile. A part of it, I felt, was their struggle with expressing their thoughts. For example, when I asked them to elaborate about a visual novel they were playing, they tried to hedge around many of the details. Even when I said I was fine about spoilers.

So many little things irked me about Tip Top.

Worse, I couldn't shake the similarities I found between them and a person I used to know, who, in a last update, identifies as a Caucasian man. While I can accept the fact they're trans (I introduced them to the concept of possibly being non-binary when we previously griped about the woes of being a woman), I take umbrage on the fact they're trying to claim an alternate racial identity. Especially as they were born, and look, East Asian.

But I digress.

This is about Tip Top and our rather lacklustre meet-up.

After we visited the bakery, for them to pick up a hojicha latte (although they were lactose-intolerant and also suffered a mild aversion to gluten), we walked around a nearby park before I bid them farewell.

It wasn't the worst meet up I'd been on but it certainly wasn't a good one either. And it makes me exhausted thinking about trawling through the disappointments to reach the diamond I'm hoping for. There is something to be said about being single. And yet, the more I age, and the more my friends go their separate ways, the more alone I'm starting to feel.

Maybe it truly is time for me to get a dog.

[kyndaris]

Filling Plot Holes

Back in the olden days, games were simpler affairs. Instead of realistic high definition graphics, developers relied on pixel art styles to portray the setting and characters. It wasn't the most amazing thing to look at but it was astonishing for their time. Nor were games incredibly complex in terms of gameplay. In those days, it was hard for developers in 3D and have competing objectives for the player to keep in mind.

Instead, many early games were in the vein of point-and-click adventure games. And none were as renowned as The Secret of Monkey Island by Lucasfilm Games.

This was the game which introduced us to beloved character Guybrush Threepwood as he journeyed across the islands of the Caribbean in order to make a name for himself as a pirate. Along the way, he made both friends and enemies, as well as fell in love with Governor Elaine Marley.

Over the years, several sequels came out. Often, Guybrush would do battle with his arch nemesis, LeChuck, before saving the day. And in 2009, it all came to an end with Tales of Monkey Island.

That is, of course, until 2022 where Return to Monkey Island, came roaring onto all available consoles as well as the PC. What made it special, though, was that it was the first Monkey Island game by series creator, Ron Gilbert, since Monkey Island 2: LeChuck's Revenge. So, of course I booted it up after two years of having it sit in my Steam library.

I'm anything if not consistent when it comes to the backlog of games I have waiting to be played!

Return to Monkey Island starts off with Boybrush Threepwood and his friend, Chuckie, playing at an amusement park and re-enacting Guybrush's previous adventures. For a while, they amuse themselves with scurvy dogs and by pretending an elderly couple also at the park are their parents. It isn't long before Boybrush finds his father and prompts Guybrush to recount the tale of when he found the secret of Monkey Island - a sticking point of the first game.

The game then pivots to Guybrush in the past. Wishing to be the first person to discover the secret, Guybrush has travelled back to Melee Island in order to gather a crew and ship. With his usual suave, he approaches the Pirate Leaders - only to discover they are no longer the three men he knew in the first two games. Instead, they've been replaced with a new trio of dark magic users: Madison, Lila and Trent.

These new Pirate Leaders refuse to help. Undeterred, Guybrush finds another way to find a crew and ship to get to Monkey Island before LeChuck. To do so, he disguises himself as a zombie and is hired onto LeChuck's ship as a swabbie.

Yet though Guybrush manages to steal the map to the secret, he is soon discovered to be an impostor when he accidentally removes the magical eyepatch he was wearing to serve as his disguise. Infuriated by the deception, LeChuck duels Guybrush on the bow of the ship. A duel which Guybrush loses and he plummets down into the sea.

Of course, given how close the ship was to Monkey Island and Guybrush's ability to hold his breath for ten eight minutes, he is able to walk the rest of the way to shore. Following the map he stole from LeChuck, Guybrush falls into a trap set by the Pirate Leaders who reveal they had the real map. Unfortunately, the map is magically encrypted and they need LeChuck's catchphrase, his theme song and his favourite food to unlock it. All, of which, fall onto Guybrush's shoulder to obtain.

But obtain them he does - unlocking the map and revealing to all present that the secret of Monkey Island is at the International House of Mojo back on Melee Island.

It isn't long before Guybrush is betrayed and is left at the bottom of a cliff. Elaine, however, comes to his rescue and they escape the island by rebuilding Guybrush's old ship: the Sea Monkey.

Despite all these setbacks, Guybrush is the first to arrive back at Melee Island where he finds the secret locked inside a safe requiring five golden keys to open. He sets out across the Caribbean, visiting Brrr Muda and Terror Island along the way, before returning to the International House of Mojo to unlock the chest.

After opening the safe, Guybrush finds another locked chest inside. Before he can open it though, LeChuck steals the chest and takes it back to Monkey Island, where, in order to open it, a ritual is needed. Guybrush and Elaine follow. After descending down into the depths, following the footsteps of LeChuck, Guybrush emerges into a theme park recreation of Melee Island. After opening the chest, he is gifted with a novelty T-shirt.

Like many of point-and-click adventure games from yesteryear, there is a strong focus on humour. The story is silly and ridiculous, though the writing remains sharp as ever in its witty social commentary. One that stood out to me was Elaine's campaign to end scurvy and how sailors on a plague ship refused to believe in science - preferring instead Saleman Stan's flyer with its half-truths and blatant lies before they would consider getting the necessary Vitamin C from limes to combat the disease.

It was an apt metaphor for COVID.

Perhaps if there is another deadly illness travelling across the globe, we'll need to peddle masks and vaccine as if we're snake oil merchants. It might actually let the dunderheads in the world finally try it. Especially when all the difficult science jargon has been removed!

That aside, I feel like the story could have gone to greater lengths if it so chose. Yet, on the other hand, I can see why Ron Gilbert went the route he did. After hyping up the secret of Money Island, it was easier to pull the rug out from underneath Boybrush, as well as the players, as whatever it truly was would have never lived up to the standards we'd all made up in our heads.

So, in keeping with tradition, and with its unique style of comedy, Return to Monkey Island had to make the 'secret' less than ideal.

Methinks, though, that Guybrush hasn't truly mastered the art of good storytelling and still needs to work on how to end his fanciful tales of adventure. Yes, he joined the Chums and was able to impress the old Pirate Leaders, but he still has far to go if he wants to be a storyteller worth any salt.

From a gameplay perspective, Return to Monkey Island returns to its roots as a point-and-click adventure where solutions aren't always as simple as they seem and logic is oft thrown out the window. Other times, the item Guybrush needs to advance is tucked away in a different part of the world and the player is forced to backtrack because it wasn't evident from the first one would need it.

Return to Monkey Island does furnish players with a hint book, however. One that provides valuable hints should they get stuck.

Of course, if you aren't playing on 'Hard Mode' and you do use the hint book in any capacity, people on the internet will decry you for cheating and not playing the game as intended.

But what a stranger on the internet doesn't know won't hurt them. Nor should one feel obligated to only ever play a game the 'correct' way.

If you want to play the game on casual mode and rely on the hint book if you're unsure how to proceed, my advice is: GO FOR IT! After all, the time you have on the world is limited. Getting stuck on a puzzle in a video game needn't be the be-all and end-all when it comes to one's satisfaction in life.

Overall, I enjoyed my adventure with Return to Monkey Island. After I surprised myself with how long I spent with Banishers: Ghosts of New Eden, it was nice to play a relatively short game without high stakes. Especially when so many video games are keen to take up all of one's time in a never-ending cycle of live service. Similarly, the vibrant art style and fun story provided some much needed levity from the direction of many dour and serious video games.

So, dear readers, if you're looking for something a little old-school and provides a rollicking adventure through the Caribbean island, look no further than Return to Monkey Island!

[kyndaris]

Love, Death and Ghosts

In life, there are two known inevitabilities. Taxes. And death. Yet, although the life we lead is fleeting, it is often opined by the poets that it is this very much ephemeral nature of our existence that makes life worth living. After all, without the threat of death looming over us, how can we appreciate the wider world we find ourselves in? Or the beauty of love that blossoms between two like-minded souls?

We year because we know it will eventually vanish from our grasps.

Banishers: Ghosts of New Eden puts the players in the shoes of two banishers: Ruaidhrigh "Red" mac Raith and Antea Duarte. As the two set about breaking the curse surrounding the town of New Eden, they are caught up in a tale of despair and retribution. One they slowly piece together piecemeal as they help out the survivors set up in their individual encampments after the initial failure to banish the Nightmare of Deborah Comenius.

Through this medium, the game is able to explore themes of love, grief and justice. All the while delving into, and challenging, the societal beliefs of the late 1600s. More importantly, it tackled the concepts of the occult with rituals used by banishers, demonologists and witches alike - something I've always found fascinating even though in our modern world such things are, more often than not, dismissed out of hand.

Here, in Banishers, magic is real and ghosts exist.

Witches too. Although they aren't agents of the Devil as the Puritan townspeople believe, but people who live with nature and understand the nature of the world around them. Nor do they have animal familiars. A missed opportunity if ever there was one.

The games tarts with our banishers arriving in New England upon the request of their good friend: Charles Davenport. Their first order of business is to find him and gain an understanding of the situation they've been called in to solve. But when they arrive at the inn, Charles is missing. Instead, they are greeted by the Governor, Fairefax Haskell, Captain Pennington and the hunter: Thickskin. It is here that they learn their good friend was killed by the Nightmare. Undaunted, Antea and Red meet with Charles' late wife to learn more. When they do, they realise she is haunted by their friend.

After finding Charles' tie, and talk to him about his reasons for staying, Red chooses to ascend their friend. After all, the banisher's code has always been: death to the dead and life to the living. For Charles to stay, he would need to feed off his wife. And though his desire to remain is to protect his wife, to do so would only only serve to put her in danger.

Once they learn more about the Nightmare and allow Charles to pass over, Antea and Red spend a night at the school house. Red wakes and finds Antea missing. Fearing his lover and fellow Banisher has gone to take on the Nightmare on her lonesome, he heads to the meeting house.

Unfortunately, it turns out to be a trap. Red is overwhelmed by the Nightmare. But before it manages to kill him, Antea comes to the rescue. In so doing, though, Antea is killed and Red is thrown off the cliff.

After he is rescued by a witch called Seeker, Red breaks down. However, his grief is short when Antea's ghost appears before him and two choices are presented to the player: Antea can ascend or she can be resurrected through the use of a dark ritual involving human sacrifice. No matter which choice Red goes with, however, the pair realise they need to return to New Eden and recover Antea's body as it is her tie to the living world.

And so, they journey back across the Dark Woods, the Mire Marshes, Mount Pleasant and the Harrows to return to the town where they lost everything. Along the way, they meet the townspeople of New Eden who had fled and aid them in destroying fragments of the ghost terrorising them for the crimes they committed against her.

Overall, I have to say I enjoyed the story of Banishers. The horror of what played out to condemn an innocent school teacher still makes my blood boil. But it was the quiet moments that stood out to me such as the fact Deborah was in a same-sex relationship with Kate, the outright despair she felt when nobody would stand up and speak on her behalf, and the fear of death in her final moments. All of this was juxtaposed with Antea and Red's relationship as they tried to find a means to put an end to the curse and deal with the impacts of human choices.

And because of this, they made Deborah a sympathetic antagonist. She was no mustache-twirling villain. Just a woman who was targeted based on prejudice and fear. The strawman effigy needed to alleviate the struggles of a budding town when it was struck down by disease.

Haskell failed in his role of being an impartial mediator, condemning Deborah even though he would have preferred to offer her mercy. Kate was scared about coming out and putting herself in the crosshairs. But Pennington was the one who accused her of being a witch because he simply could not face the fact his daughter, Grace, wanted to dabble in magic (possibly a metaphor for coming out as trans?). And honestly, my greatest contempt is for him and how he tried to oppress his daughter's means of self-expression.

Had he not been so caught up in Puritan beliefs, he would not have denounced Deborah and imprisoned an innocent woman because he couldn't accept the person his daughter was.

Online, I've also seen people question Deborah's desire for retribution and if it matches the crimes committed against her. Though I would say 'no,' I'd also say that the spirit which had latched onto her continued to feed on her anger and she wasn't exactly in her right state of mind. As Antea often said, ghosts who lingered could forget themselves, their memories fading until they were driven solely by a single emotion when attacking the living.

Neither, of course, are good. Or healthy for that matter. Look no further than The Count of Monte Cristo, who spent decades plotting out his revenge against the people who wronged him. But it is also important to realise that Deborah's anger came from both the injustice of her death and the grief of Kate stepping away when she needed her the most.

In fact, the whole game is about letting go.

Whether that's allowing Antea to ascend, to the ghosts who haunt their respective persons for either perceived slights or because of the love they have.

Admittedly, I did enjoy many of the haunting cases as they provided additional context for the world of Banishers. Even if, of course, most of the townsfolk were Puritans wishing to explore the new world.

Although, I do puzzle why so many of the ghosts who ended up haunting their fellow survivors managed to die in the days or week after Red managed to lift the curse in an area. Yes, I know sepsis can kill a person quite quick, but Ann Wings didn't seem very sick before we went down into the mines but as soon as we emerged, she'd somehow died of disease. Then, of course, in the Harrows, you had someone drink themselves to death and another who poisoned himself in quick succession.

From a gameplay perspective Banishers is quite simple. There's a light and heavy attack, which are mapped to the shoulder buttons of the PlayStation 5. Square is for healing, circle is dodge and X allows Red to unleash a powerful Banish attack. Triangle, on the other hand, will allow you to shift into Antea who is able to deal spirit damage through her punches. As the game continues, she unlocks various 'Manifestations' which help unlock parts of the map and also serve as power abilities to unleash in the midst of battle.

Unfortunately, the gameplay loop was fairly simple through the game and I never felt like I had to deviate much from my tried and true formula of dodging away from enemies before counter-attacking them with a flurry of blows.

My main issue was the camera and how Red was trapped with strafing side to side. In the early game, this was difficult to navigate when fighting multiple enemies at the same time but after I'd slowly unlearned the Final Fantasy XVI key bindings and finally was doing what I wanted instead of hitting the wrong button, the game got easier.

Like the game that came before it, Ghost Trick, Banishers sees you trying to solve the mystery. Whereas Ghost Trick was primarily focused on Sissel's journey of self-discovery, Banishers has Red decide the best path forward to resolve each case - whether that be blaming the human, ascending the ghost or banishing them back into the Void. But while Ghost Trick was a game filled with levity and hijinks, Banishers is rooted in the reality of the world we live in and the prejudices inherent of being human. Especially when we only have a limited understanding of the world around us and don't seek to expand our knowledge of how it works, or the history that has led us to where we are now.

It is often said that those who choose to ignore history are doomed to repeat it.

Of course, there are also those who incorrectly put things from the past up onto a pedestal and hope to emulate what they believe was the pinnacle of civilisation. All the while ignoring the inconvenient truths and realities of the time for their own sanitised version of it.

I'm looking at you, Roman Empire.

[kyndaris]

Coffee Shop AU

Most first dates, or meet-ups as I like to call them (especially with a stranger), that I've gone to have involved lunch or coffee at a local cafe. Thankfully, in the city of Sydney, there are plenty of cafes (of varying quality) one can visit. And all of them come with a decent brunch menu (though some will close by 2:30 or 3 PM at the latest). Enter Edition Roasters. While it has a few branches in and around the CBD (Australian shorthand for Central Business District), my date and I picked the one in Darling Quater.

But I've jumped forward to our date and failed to introduce the person behind it all!

Although I've gone on a date before with a woman, Eivor, which didn't end up as well as I had hoped, I wasn't quite willing to quite throw in the towel. After all, how many dates have I gone with men? And while the men in my life have failed to make my heart flutter, who was to say I wasn't an asexual lesbian?

Especially with the so-called 'squishes'/ brief flirtations of attraction I've had with a few women I've met over the years? THough now that I think on it, do fictional men count in terms of romantic attraction? Am I still clutching at straws?

No, I couldn't yet label myself as aromantic just yet!

I mean, Dikottir isn't bad! It's just...I don't feel a sense of romantic attraction to him. Even though we've gone on five dates and have technically 'known' each other for a year now.

Alas, I have once more been distracted. Where was I? Ah yes, my so-called 'date.' So, yes, this trip out to Edition Roasters was my second meet-up with a woman.

From the very start on Hinge, we struck up a conversation on musicals including one that has yet to grace the stage - Epic: The Troy Saga by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. As a frequenter of Tiktok, she had heard the songs being performed whilst I had the good fortune for my Spotify shuffle list to insert a few of the songs whenever I chose to listen to songs from musicals.

Though not a frequent replier, we were both able to share our passion for musicals and also touched a little on their second passion: fanfiction. Given the obsession of my fellow classmates back in Year 8 and 9 for all things anime, and to stretch our writing skills, I was no stranger to fanfiction.

Back in my heyday, I used to frequent ones for Kingdom Hearts, Naruto, Shugo Chara! Even now, trying to ween myself off fanfiction, I still can't quite kick the bucket as I continue to lurk among the Harry Potter fandom, while occasionally experimenting with Far Cry 5 (yes, I'm a gosh darn sinner), She-Ra and a host of Disney ones as well.

It was because of her heartfelt passion for Epic, and how we did initially chat about mythology, that I've given my date the code name: Athena. Unlike Eivor before her, she was keen to arrange a meet-up sooner rather than later. So, after some discussion - with a variety of choice between multiple places to eat at - we finally settled on Darling Square.

I was the first to arrive. Shivering in the cold Australian winter, I put my name down on the paper sheet out front and waited for our number to be called out. Athena joined me shortly afterwards and we chatted a little about our week and our lives. Before too long, our number was called and we were directed to a table out in the wind (perhaps not the best choice but given how busy the place was, it made nabbing a table easier). Despite not having much sun, there was a heater purposely positioned close by to offer some warmth. Although, if I'm being honest, it was the hot chocolate I ordered, more than anything else, which served to defrost me.

Then it was time for the main meal. Athena ordered a miso salmon ochazuke after crunching the numbers on online reviews regarding the cafe's signature dishes, while I settled for a miso wagyu bolognese. As we ate, we talked a little of the work we did, our family composition, and the reason why we were dating. We even reminisced on many a bad date we've had - with her recounting one where the man hailed Hitler.

And though this is the second time someone I know has gone on a date with a seeming Nazi sympathiser, it's a bit strange that it's happened twice. I honestly have to wonder if they went on the date with the same man.

After lunch, we walked around Darling Harbour before heading up towards Town Hall station. It was, in my eyes, a wonderful day out. While I wouldn't have called it love at first sight, I certainly didn't feel as intimidated as my meet-up with Eivor at the ice-rink. Nor did I feel like Athena fail to meet the expectations I'd set up in my head.

I wouldn't say we clicked immediately but it definitely felt like we had a strong connection and understanding of the other.

Now, I wouldn't call that love but I'd say it went far more swimmingly than I'd feared. Yes, I was probably still putting up a front, but I didn't feel either one of us dominated the conversation. It flowed well, like having a good deep and meaningful natter with a good friend (rather than an acquaintance).

Is this a good sign?

But Athena did say to hit her up for another outing.

The only problem, of course, is that I'm not so much a foodie as someone who simply tags along and enjoys the food on offer (as long as it's not spicy). Does make me wonder if the two are related, though...

Are all asexuals bad with spice? Or is it just me with a low tolerance for both? Probably just me. And the smut fanfictions I read simply represents my ability to enjoy wasabi (to a degree). It's not the perfect analogy but I'll have to make do. This is, after all, coming down from spending an entire Saturday out and about at the Sydney Manga and Anime Show (SMASH!) and then finishing off all the chores I needed to do in preparation for the week ahead.

Give a 31, who will be 32 when this post goes up, woman a break! It ain't easy trying to juggle care for an elderly grandparent, work, hobbies, dating and what else when it comes to the adulting life. It's not like there's a manual!

[kyndaris]

Plot? What Plot?

As someone who aspires to become an author that will someday get on a Best Selling List somewhere in the world, I read a lot of books. While it's not on the level of professional BookTok-ers or those running BookTube channels, I like to think I get through a decent portion of them during the year. Especially when my books of choice are usually 600-page minimum behemoths. AFter all, with the rising cost of books (they're about $24 now in Australia for a standard paperback), I need to ensure I'm getting my money's worth!

However, ever since I joined the bookclub at my workplace, I've been exposed to genres and books I might not have usually thought twice on. Surprisingly, most of them have been much shorter than the books I usually devour.

But the most recent book we've picked is Year of the Locust by Terry Hayes. And, quite frankly, I've mixed feelings about the book. Spoilers ahead for anyone who might want to read this book in the future.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not opposed to spy thrillers. Hell, back in 2013, I even bought I Am Pilgrim after seeing the title being advertised nearly everywhere in the London Underground while I was there third-wheeling my friend and her then-boyfriend's relationship (you know you're close if you can get away with hijacking a trip overseas to see a significant other).

Did I love it? Not...exactly.

Still, I gave it a reasonable 3 out of 5 stars!

Year of the Locust, on the other hand, is a rough 2.5 stars (rounded down on Goodreads in this instance).

And I know you must be asking me why. After all, it's a 600-page behemoth. So, it would be in my usual wheelhouse of books I'd like to savour in just shy of a month.

Unfortunately, while I find the writing and sentence structure decent, my main issue are the characters and the surfeit of plot. This is no A Court of Silver Flames where Nesta and Cassian spin plates in the House of the Wind (and by that I mean the training, the bloody 10,000 step staircase and all the unnecessary sexy times), and the plot, when it is remembered, is scattered unevenly throughout before it all gets rushed through in the last few chapters.

No, no. Year of the Locust suffers from what I like to call the Scarlet Nexus issue. It's where the writers (or writer in this case), think any and all ideas are great and insert it into the story as some sort of twist. And in Year of the Locust, the second half has this in spades: space spores which fast-track human into evolving a white carapace, giving them a 'ridgeback,' and heightening their aggression; an experimental cloaking technology affixed to a submarine that somehow makes it travel through time.

Like, why? Why couldn't this be a separate story entirely?

Also, did you have to power up your villain into some video game bullet sponge? Uncharted 2: Honour Among Thieves this is not. But if you blink, the difference between Zoran Lazarevic and Kazinsky are almost non-existent.

Perhaps my gut instinct at the start of the book should have warned me that Year of the Locust would not go the way I thought it would. Especially as it opened with a completely different adventure with Ridley Kane going up against the Magus (which would later be revisited again in Part 3 - most likely to pad the book out because it added little substance to the whole Ridley and Kazinsky dynamic in any shape or form) to highlight a secret technique the dastardly spy would use against our protagonist, one he would repeat in the final few chapters against Kazinsky.

Another thing that rubbed me wrong was how often Ridley, as he recounts the story sometime in the future, would tell the reader how deadly all his foes were. All the while underselling his abilities as a Denied Access Area spy. Rather, our protagonist is just an ordinary guy who once wished to be part of a submarine crew and has mastery of multiple languages like Russian and Arabic.

The other parts I felt added little to the actual plot were the foreshadowing dreams Ridley has, and which many of the supporting cast attribute to PTSD. Why can't intuition just be that? Did Ridley truly have to emphasise he could hear 'gunshots from the future?' It's not as if he was ever shown to be clairvoyant about other things in his life.

Oh, and don't get me started on how much of the book 'tells' the backstory of all of its characters rather than simply 'showing' it. Did we need to have several chapters dedicated to Kazinsky talking about his childhood of hunting for mammoth tusks? How did it add to his characterisation? Did Ridley really have to exclaim to the rest of the CIA that Kazinsky was expositing to hammer the exact same point home to the reader?

By the time I reached the end, I was praying for the story to end. Especially when typical tropes began being pulled out: like Ridley refusing to go back in time and only did so when his wife (when did he and Rebecca even get married again?) died in his arms. The writing truly could be seen on the wall.

Also, how did the spores manage to travel around the world? How much was on some asteroid ore? And if they could become airborne, why couldn't people get infected after Devil's Night?

All I can say after reading the book was that the author definitely needed an editor. One who wasn't afraid to tell the author to kill his darlings if he wanted to write something that might not have been a complete mess. Or, at the very least, split the plot in half and write them separately with different characters. There was absolutely no need to mush two disparate ideas into one book. Especially given how strange the tonal change would be.

Do I regret that I read this book? A little. There are a million other choices sitting on my bookshelves. And yet, I also think it's important to read books one might not always enjoy. After all, such things help widen one's understanding of taste. If you're lucky, though, you might just find a new genre you'd fall in love with. Or a new favourite author.

While I know some might argue there isn't enough time in our very short life spans to read books you don't like, it's hard to distinguish what you do and don't like without experimenting a little. If one reads only the classics, thinking they ought to like them because of how they've managed to stand the test of time, it may deter them from books entirely. Especially if the writing might be too pretentious or too dry.

Besides, what someone else might like but I might detest is all very subjective. There are many people online who have elevated Sarah J Maas to such heights I'd not be able to reach while leaving other authors, who might be just as good, in the dust.

In any case, I know for certain Year of the Locust isn't quite the novel I expected. While there are some reviewers on Goodreads who love the rollercoaster ride they were presented with, it is this humble blogger's opinion that the story would have been better split into two separate novels. Coupled with a good editor who wasn't afraid to leave certain threads on the cutting room floor, those two separate stories would have been more tightly written and given Terry Hayes the springboard to leap into a wholly different genre.

[kyndaris]

Powers of the Dead

After a pointy-haired attorney made his mark on history, a slicked back blond hair man in a red suit, and wearing a pair of funky sunglasses, took centre stage. First released on the Nintendo DS, it wasn't until the game saw a release on the Switch that I bought it and gave it a bit of a whirl. And my, what a journey it was! From a dancing desk lamp called Ray to a meteorite fragment that can give untold powers who die within its aura, Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective was a marvel.

True, it might have been a commercial failure but it has since amassed a cult following.

And, more importantly, it was designed and directed by the great Shu Takumi. The mastermind behind the Ace Attorney series. And known for giving us such memorable characters like Missile the Dog, Will Powers and Lotta Hart. In Ghost Trick, we encounter a similar roster, from Inspector Cabanela to Guardian of the Park, and Emma (the wife of the Justice Minister).

Ghost Trick begins with the death of your character. Although, the how and the why remain a mystery. Worse, you don't even know who you are. Only that you were killed. Fortunately, a fellow spirit, possessing a desk lamp, is able to provide some guidance into what it means to be dead. As well as the associated powers derived from it. The so called 'ghost tricks' for which the game is named.

Armed with this knowledge, the player character saves the life of a young detective named Lynne by going back in time to four minutes before her death. When Detective Lynne picks up the junkyard phone following the change to her fate, the player character travels down through the telephone lines into a luxurious room where two men, with a shade of blue to their skin, discuss the botched assassination job for Lynne. Before then, revealing the player character's name: Sissel.

Despite now knowing their name, Sissel still hasn't quite regained their memory. Desperate to figure out why he was killed and who he was in life, Sissel decides to work in tandem with Lynne. Along the way, he saves her from death multiple times and encounters several other characters including Missile the Dog, Kamila and Detective Jowd.

Soon, he is able to piece together the disparate connections between the people he encounters, such as Detective Jowd taking the fall for the death of his wife: Alma. As well as the case Lynne was investigating the night she turned up at the junkyard to supposedly question Sissel.

But what might have been a simple mystery later turns out to be remarkably complex revenge plot from a person known only as 'The Manipulator.' And in Chapter 15, after springing Detective Jowd from prison and then saving the lives of both the Pidgeon Man Superintendent and Inspector Cabanela, Sissel learns the dead body he thought was his actually belonged to the main villain pulling the strings: Yomiel.

Ten years ago, Yomiel was struck from behind by a meteorite and killed. The radiation from the meteorite, however, would give him powers to manipulate living bodies. Additionally, it meant his body could not die - forever regenerating to the moment before his actual death.

Unfortunately for Yomiel, he wasn't quite able to master his powers initially. Coupled with the initial amnesia that comes from being dead, he was not able to initially possess his own corpse. When he finally was able to return to it, and those he loved, he loses the love of his life. All because he was falsely suspected for leaking national secrets.

With no future ahead for him, but unable to die, Yomiel soon hatches a plan to sell the secret behind his powers for the promise of a life he can live in a foreign nation. However, it isn't long before Yomiel is betrayed by those very same allies near the very end of the game, leading to one last time jump from Sissel.

Though the plot was a wild rollercoaster (considering all of it was in the span of a single night), I enjoyed my time with Ghost Trick. Much of it was derived from the range of kooky characters Sissel encountered on his quest to regain his memory. But I also liked how much Sissel's own motivations mirrored my own as I, too, was curious to figure out who he was and what his story might have been.

But what stuck out to me was how much the story was aided by the help of the gameplay. Especially with Sissel's ability to manipulate objects around him - almost like a poltergeist would. While I did find it occasionally limiting (due to the restriction of Sissel's reach and forced only into 'cores'), the puzzles were a unique aspect to the game. After all, it's not every day that I have to try experimenting with unconventional objects around me to save the life of another. For example, knocking down a donut and then hitting it with a door in order for a dog to chase it under the sofa.

The swapping, too, of objects with similar shapes also came in handy in the last few stages although I felt those puzzles were a little more obtuse (but perhaps it was more me trying to understand the timing for when I would need to actually possess another object in order to reach the core I wanted to manipulate).

In any case, I am mightily ashamed I slept on this game when it first came out back in 2011. However, given I was still only in university and didn't actually have a job, I suppose I can forgive myself for overlooking it. For now.

Still, while I would love for many of these games to have actual voice acting, I still love putting on the voices for the various characters. Although, I must admit, it can be hard to find the exact one I'm hoping for as there isn't much context on what their accent ought to be. Or how old they are until much later in the dialogue (looking at you, Ray!)

I must say, my Cabanela had a strange southern accent whereas Missile was an excitable high-pitch impression of what a Pomeranian would sound like. And don't even get me started on my stoner surfer dude for Guardian of the Park.

Whether or not these are the correct voices for the characters, I don't know. But I must say I had fun doing them. If only for my own entertainment.

More than all of that, though, I liked all the subtle hints to Sissel's true identity. Including his inability to read and the fact he didn't recognise a slew of common things most humans would know. Even if they had amnesia.

So, dear reader, if you are looking for a game that's a little bit different from the norm, look no further to Ghost Trick, which will see you jumping across telephone lines and helping out a range of various characters in different forms of distress. The story is a wild ride, but at least it's well plotted and makes narrative sense. Unlike Scarlet Nexus or the current book (as of time of writing) that I'm reading for book club: Year of the Locust.

Besides, who doesn't love a dancing twerking desk lamp?

[kyndaris]

Small Town Murders

After traversing the ins and outs of Valisthea for quite a few weeks, I thought it would be best to play something short and sweet. Especially something more experimental than traditional video games. And though I bought this last year on Steam (frankly, I have far too many games on Steam and not all of them are as recent as 2022), Pentiment has seen a recent release on PlayStation 5. A decision Microsoft made before it shut down several studios and then tried to Jedi mind-trick the audience by providing one of their most impressive game showcases at their presentation following Summer Game Fest.

There are two things I want to say following the smorgasbord of games on offer: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 looks absolutely fascinating and I can't wait to get my hands on it. And two: thank goodness Obsidian Entertainment has not yet been shut down. Their work with Pillars of Eternity and The Outer Worlds have been some of my favourites and I keep hoping they'll upend Besthesda with their superior writing and lovable characters.

But, this post isn't about Obsidian Entertainment. Rather, it's about their game styled as a point-and-click 2D adventure called Pentiment. With its unique art style and historical setting of 16th century Upper Bavaria, the game immediately stood out to me as something special. Especially as it contained mystery components!

Placed in the shoes of one Andreas Maler, a journeyman artist, Pentiment follows the story of him and the town of Tassing over the course of 25 years. During each act, the player must help solve the murder that occurs. The first is Baron Lorenz Rothvogel, a longtime benefactor of Kiersau but who harbours divisive views that go against Christian beliefs of the abbey. The second is that of Otto, the leader of a brewing rebellion due to heavy taxation.

And while Claus is not immediately killed when he is attacked in the privacy of his home, there is a certain tension there where Magdalene (the protagonist for the third act following a huge fire at the end of Act 2) must contend with caring for her father, finishing off the mural for the council meeting hall and trying her best to keep the printing press in her home running. What I appreciated the most, though, was Magdalene's chat with Brigita during the first half of Act III.

As someone who has had to care for a loved one following something a terrifying health scare, I appreciate it when people not only ask if my family member is all right but also enquire as to my wellbeing. There were moments during that week where I felt very overwhelmed. Knowing people cared - not just about my grandmother but for me too - truly helped me get through a difficult time.

What stood out to me as I navigated the town of Tassing and interacted with its characters, were the themes the game wasn't afraid to explore. Be they religion and the authority bestowed on the church from local lords to the plight of the peasants struggling to put food on the table. The game was also quick to put me on the back foot by showing two sides of each story when it came to the possible suspects (though it never confirms which, if any, of the suspects was truly guilty).

More often than not, I was led mostly by my gut (and who I felt acted most like an arsehole). And while the internet deemed Lucky the most guilty when it came to the death of the Baron, I still find it hard to fathom the means by which Lucky would have been able to sneak in the abbey to do the deed and then sneak back out. True, he has the strength and the motivation but there was a storm!

And while the archdeacon condemned Prior Ferenc after I'd presented most of the evidence, it does still puzzle me that Ferenc scribbled a note in his book prior to the Baron's death - implying he would have buried his ritualistic tools beforehand (the supposed murder weapon following an inspection).

Of course, there is a possibility the actual murderer was none of the actual suspects. The inability to properly investigate and gather evidence meant players are forced to make decisions that they feel would most benefit the town and its people.

As for Otto, I discounted most of the suspects as the motives for Martin and Hannah were fairly dubious at best. Brother Guy appeared the most guilty, especially as he tried to insert himself into the investigation and point out how it was impossible for one of the monks to have murdered Otto.

But the reveal of the Thread-Puller right at the end was a surprise for me. Especially as there were other ways Father Thomas could have gone about hiding the town's history if he felt it was too scandalous. There was no need to leave such a trail of destruction, including inciting a revolt among the peasants, simply to keep the secret that the Saints worshipped by the town were actually depictions of Roman Gods.

Given my love for mythology, I've seen how the Gods of many different pantheons have been changed and adapted to reflect the culture or times they are needed. The Greek and Roman deities, after all, have almost a one-to-one equivalent. Stories, too, about the heroes of the past have been used by other religions and cultures to explain elements of their own mythology.

And while hindsight, along with agnostic and atheist beliefs, have allowed us to take a step back to study religion from a distance, I think it's important to realise this was not always the case. This was 16th century Bavaria, after all. Christianity was everything to most people in Europe.

Although, I must say, while Father Thomas was worried people would learn that the statue of Saint Moritz was actually Mars Pater and Saint Satia was actually Diana, I was more intrigued by the painting of Mithras. It was never fully touched upon but I just knew I had seen the God slaughtering a bull somewhere before.

Lo and behold: Mithraism.

Suppose it explains why the old Roman temple was named the Mithraeum. Too bad the cult of Mithraism wasn't fully explored in the game. It would have been more interesting if there was some additional exploration of these other more occult practices beyond what Prior Ferenc was up to, and the strange ritual Guy tried to enact.

Overall, I have to say Pentiment held my interest for a goodly while and made me ponder the choices I'd made. It also humanised many of the characters, giving me a glimpse into what life might have been like back in the 16th century - and given me a greater appreciation of how far humanity has come from those feudal times (although, let's be honest, we're still trapped in very tribal mindsets that's been fanned by the internet). Life might have been hard as a peasant, or for the normal tradesperson during this period, but somehow Tassing was able to make do.

Time to see how Ghost Trick plays out!

On a completely unrelated note: I AM SO EXCITED FOR ACE ATTORNEY INVESTIGATIONS COLLECTION! Finally, I can play the second game of Miles' spin-off games.

The Ace Attorney franchise is finally getting the revitalisation it deserves and I hope there will be more to come. Especially with Mr Backstory himself, Apollo Justice. Or, heck, with another starry-eyed defence attorney in the land of Japanifornia.

[kyndaris]

Onward to the Gong!

Living in New South Wales, public holidays are few and far between with only 11 official days. That being said, not all of them lead to long weekends. And after the Monarch's birthday in June, we poor Sydneysiders must need wait until Labour Day in October before partaking of another extended rest. It's outrageous, I tell you! Atrocious!

Still, in the spirit of adventure and wishing to relive our halcyon days in the sun, me and a few of my friends headed down to Wollongong to enjoy the salty sea air and swan around their city centre, which is but a stone's throw away from the major hustle and bustle that is Sydney. The only major city one really needs to visit when on the east coast of Australia.

Melbourne, who?

I jest. Melbourne is a perfectly fine city to visit or live. It's just...you know, not Sydney.

Although, it should not be noted that a day trip out to Wollongong was not what I'd initially dreamt up for the long weekend. Oh no. Rather, I'd hoped to road trip to the capital of Australia, Canberra, to catch a performance of RENT. The addition of more people to my travel plans, however, scuppered the idea.

What we got instead was a fancy day out with good food and even better company. It involved lounging at a cafe as we devoured a huge breakfast, watched as a car in front of us mount the central curb before swerving across multiple lanes and tailgating the cars in front of it, and also testing our abilities with a devious escape.

A worthy consolation prize, if I do say so myself.

Better than that, we didn't have any time to pay a visit to Shellharbour, where I would have relived the trauma of my many date fails (he was an earnest young man but not, perhaps, what I was seeking in a life partner).

Our small group of adults of mostly over-30s did stumble upon a protest to Free Palestine, however. By then, it was nearing 4 PM. Why it was so late in the afternoon remained a mystery. But the slogans were, admittedly catchy, and it was far better than the preaching we encountered earlier about how we ought to read the Bible lest we burn in Hell. Even some Mormons passing by were caught in the crosshairs.

As for the reason why, I couldn't say. But perhaps different evangelical groups feel like only their own beliefs are true? And all others are corruptions that don't adhere to the correct teachings?

These mild gripes aside, our day trip down to Wollongong was pretty much a success. Even the planning was an exciting endeavour in and of itself. Although, it must be said, trying to negotiate with friends to agree on a date, an activity and location can be like trying to wrangle kittens. It took no small effort to work around people's different schedules and plans.

And while I would have preferred a slightly more challenging escape room than the one we got, it was, in hindsight, for the best. The escape room was at the Breakout Bar, next to Wollongong Central. It was themed with clockwork gears on the ceiling and tables with the entrances to the escape rooms looking like heavy thick-set lead doors. Arriving early, we were given a brief overview of the escape room and the narrative tying all five of them together.

Once we had reviewed the story, we stored our belongings in the locker, plonked on some steampunk-esque goggles and time travelled all the way to Medieval England on a quest to return Excalibur to the stone it had been lodged in.

Although the escape room was one of the easiest available, our group still struggled to solve some of the puzzles. Of note were the unintuitive nature of the nail tower as it was unclear if the key to a nearby bird cage had been released. This was primarily due to the hidden compartment having to be pulled out manually and there was no audio cue to tell us we had succeeded. Quite a lot of precious time was lost where we tried to find a way to open the hidden compartment through other means (as we thought it was activated by magnets).

One other puzzle stumped us terribly too.

Even when we asked for the easy hint, we were left scratching our heads until we looked at the opposite wall.

If ever I should complain about other people being obtuse, I ought to remind myself that I failed to see a huge red and black shield on a wall (although, to be fair, in our group of five, four pairs of eyes also failed to spot it as well).

Still, we managed to escape the room. With time to spare!

Overall, I'd say the escape room was a success in how it got us all to collaborate with its many puzzles. All of us got to contribute our expertise, allowing us to return Excalibur to its rightful place and head back into Professor B's time machine in order to search for his beloved in another time period.

And while Wollongong is certainly no sprawling Sydney, I like to think we enjoyed our time there: from soaking up the sun at Coniston Dog Beach and contributing to a driftwood hut, to nabbing free chips at Grill'd, having a dessert break at Kurtosh, or buying a couple more books to add to my ever growing collection.

Perhaps next we visit the Illawara region, me and my group of friends can look to a few coastal hikes or perhaps take a gander up on the treetops.

If heading south isn't an option, we can always go horseback trail riding instead!

Australia may not be as vibrant as other countries, but there are many a hidden gem for both locals and tourists to discover. After taking some time to explore the main thoroughfare of Wollongong, I can say there's plenty to do and see in the small coastal city that's only an hour away. An absolute steal considering how far other locations can be in the great big giant country I call home.

[kyndaris]

Defying Fate's Design

Where to start with Final Fantasy XVI? The game first released in June 2023, right on the heals of Diablo IV. Already drowning in games, I put it on the back burner until some time I could actually sink in the prerequisite hours needed to see it to completion. All the while, the friends around me were singing the game's praises for how dark and gritty the storyline was. Was it any wonder I stumbled upon the odd spoiler or two?

Not that I care about spoilers.

Just because I know something will happen doesn't mean I know how it exactly plays out. It's far more interesting for me to see how the writers navigate the characters from plot point A to plot point B and then later D.

Enter the slower half of 2024. Although there was still a plethora of games I needed to get through, I was able to finally sit down and play through Final Fantasy XVI. And all before bleachpanda was able to do the same with Final Fantasy XV. Heck, I still think she's midway through her replay of Final Fantasy XIII because she's been sidetracked by her endless number of otomes. A fact I was unable to escape during our trip abroad in Japan.

Final Fantasy XVI (or FF16 for short) puts players in the shoes of one Clive Rosfield, eldest son of the Rosfield family who rule over the Duchy of Rosaria. Despite being the firstborn child, Clive is not to inherit the Ducal throne. Rather, the honour would go to his brother, Joshua, as he was the one to awaken as the Dominant for the Phoenix. Though such situations could lead to enmity between family members, there is no bad blood between the brothers. Clive is satisfied to be Joshua's shield, vowing to protect his younger brother by any means at his disposal.

Everything changes at Phoenix Gate.

Betrayed by their allies, the Ducal forces are destroyed by agents from Sanbreque. During the attack, Joshua primes as Phoenix. Losing control of his Eikon, he wreaks havoc on both allies and enemies until a second Dominant of Fire emerges in the confusion and seemingly kills the phoenix. In the aftermath, Clive is found alive by the Sanbreque forces, as well as his mother. Instead of being executed, he is branded as a bearer and forced to fight on the front lines for the next thirteen years.

Sent on a mission to kill Shiva's dominant, Clive and his assassin allies skirt along the battlefield before finding an opportune moment to attack. Before Clive lands the killing blow, Clive recognises as his old childhood friend, Jill. After slaying his previous compatriots, Clive, with the help of deus ex machina, Cidolfus Telamon and a suddenly adult Torgal (who had just been a pup - how is that a dog/wolf can live to thirteen and still seem like a puppy? Also, did Cid never name the dog/wolf he found? They've been together for quite a while) escape. Still intent on finding the person who had killed his brother, Clive isn't initially interested in joining Cid's cause although he is sympathetic as a whole to the plight of the Bearers.

Cid, of course, helps our erstwhile hero. It isn't long before Clive later learns the truth: that the second Eikon on that fateful day was Ifrit and that he is the Dominant. Broken by the revelation, Clive is barely hanging onto his sanity. Until he hears word of a Dominant of Fire still very much alive. He figures: if his brother is dead and he is the second Dominant of Fire, who is this third figure?

Wishing to uncover the truth, Clive and Jill travel to Rosaria and down into the depths of Phoenix Gate. There, they learn some truths. Filled with new resolve, Clive and Jill decide to join in Cid's quest to atone for the sins they had committed by freeing Bearers from their oppression. They do this by destroying the Mothercrystals, and by wiping out magic, so that all can live and die by their own choice.

Together, they infiltrate Sanbreque's capital, Oriflamme, and manage to destroy the Mothercrystal. Within the crystal, however, is a being called Ultima. Ultima manages to mortally wound Cid before attempting to possess Clive. Joshua, revealing he managed to survive the events of Phoenix Gate, interrupts and manages to trap the being within himself.

Five years pass before Clive resumes his quest to destroy the Mothercrystals. Systematically, he manages to take them and the Eikons guiding them down - absorbing their powers along the way. Why can Clive take the powers of others? Why, he is Mythos, a vessel for Ultima to inhabit in order to cast a spell to resurrect the remnants of his race. Even if humans are completely wiped out.

We soon learn that it was Ultima, through Barnabas - the King of Waloed - who managed to orchestrate the political unrest plaguing the world of Valisthea. In so doing, he kept them focused not on the plight of the world but rather their own squabbles for diminishing resources. Much like in Game of Thrones, for which FF16 takes inspiration, many of the leaders of the various nations are focused more on collating power than the imminent threat of the Blight.

FF16 culminates in a final battle atop Origin with Ultima - first as a three-pronged attack with Bahamut, Phoenix and Ifrit, before Clive takes on Ultima solo in the heart of the final Mothercrystal where he demonstrates the strength of his will due to the bonds he shares with his friends.

Honestly, if there were three themes FF16 wanted to get across, they were: oppression, climate change and friendship.

But while the oppression could be solved by simply taking away the very reason why the Bearers were special (ala the Mutants from the X-men series), the modern day ramifications are vastly different. If we could simply fix the quirk of fate of being born a certain race by removing magic, things would be much simpler. Unfortunately, there is no easy solution for the cycles of hatred that has been left to ferment for centuries. Nor can we make all people equal by destroying some gemstones.

Imagine the power to make everyone, oh, I don't know, white, simply because there was a crystal plonked in the desert?

The bigger message, though, I felt FF16 was telling, was that of climate change. I feel like it was summed up best in a quote from Joshua as he opined to the heavens with his guardian, Jote, beside him: A blessing that leads to damnation or freedom that leads to deprivation. It seems especially poignant considering how our modern day world is so dependent on so many comforts like electricity. And while we are taking steps to move away from our reliance on fossil fuels, the companies behind them would rather we all swelter in a bleak future than admit the inconvenient truth that continual use of something so readily apparent will only lead to our destruction.

It is the hubris of man to think that 'we' won't be affected, or think too closely on the short term rather than the future.

Ultima, too, could be likened to capitalist corporations who care little for the workers slaving away to assist in the company's goals. To him, humans are disposable. That they have freewill is the greatest sin because they are no longer subservient subjects willing to sacrifice themselves for his benefit (and yes, I know Ultima probably isn't a him per se but I'm simply using the pronoun as an easy shorthand).

In the end, Ultima is a cruel god. One Clive must need take down if there is any hope in saving the world.

And he manages to do so.

These themes are further explored in the two DLC fort he game: Echoes of the Fallen and The Rising Tide. As it took me quite a while to actually get started, I was able to play through both of them before I finally gave Ultima his comeuppance with a deft punch to the face. An ending that was more humorous than cathartic.

It is my humble opinion that the game's focus on 'dark and gritty' somewhat took away from what could have been an even better game. Much like Forspoken, I felt the game was under-saturated. There could have been more contrast and a bit more colour to the world. I would have also liked to have heard a completed Chocobo theme melody.

In the pursuit of trying to be a 'serious' game, FF16 also failed to insert in any meaningful minigames that could alleviate the doom and gloom of the plot.

Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy the story. But most Final Fantasy games are pretty dark if you consider their actual ramifications: from Final Fantasy VI to Final Fantasy XIII. That doesn't preclude them from having their lighter moments to add some much needed levity. Although, Gav is quite able to do it pretty well. A solid character that Gav.

Speaking of characters, I loved the cast of FF16, although I did find the chemistry between Jill and Clive a little stilted. I was much more invested in the romance between Dion and Terence (although I wouldn't have minded some Dion and Joshua, or Joshua and Mid. Heck, even Clive and Cid would have been pretty steamy). But my absolute favourite character would have to go to Torgal. Our frostwolf with magical abilities and can live up to, at least, 18.

Although, he doesn't hold a candle to Ambrosia. How old can chocobos get up to anyway? Enquiring minds need to know.

Oh, and uncle Byron Rosfield is GREAT too. He's so unserious! And the way Clive managed to convince his uncle who he was!

Combat-wise, FF16 shines. While Clive can party up with the other characters, they simply feel like tag-alongs with Clive doing most of the heavy lifting. At least they can't get knocked out (which is a definite plus)! But what I liked most about the combat was how it was tied into the story.

New abilities Clive obtains are linked to the Eikons he absorbs. And they all play differently. While Titan is focused on defence, Bahamut is all about charging up that Megaflare to do extensive area-of-effect damage. Shiva, meanwhile, has the ability to freeze enemies - giving Clive some breathing room to think before Phoenix sees him rushing in to deliver the final blow.

In the end, I ended up with a loadout that made use of Ramuh's Judgement, Garuda's ability to quickly whittle down the stagger gauge and Titan's block ability to keep both myself alive while also dealing as much damage as I could possibly. Perhaps I should have traded in Odin's Zantetsuken for more carnage but a lot of the story boss battles also traded normal blow-by-blow battles with more cinematic clashes. Something that was quite awe-inspiring when it came to the fight with Titan and Bahamut but could not find the same heights in later boss battles with Ultima and Odin.

Overall, my time with FF16 was astounding. Yes, some of the cutscenes were a little longer than necessary as they talked about politics, but I didn't mind given it's one of my favourite genres to read. And I also appreciated how early Ultima made his appearance. This was no final boss skulking in the shadows that jumped out right at the end without any explanation (well, he kinda was but I'll give the writers of FF16 a pass on that). The message, too, the game is trying to convey is relevant and current.

And I can't forget the accents!

I love me the various different UK accents! Xenoblade did it and now Final Fantasy is jumping on the trend!

Should a Final Fantasy XVII ever come out, I'd be interested to see the direction of where Square-Enix takes their next entry. I'm sure it'll revolve around taking down a God somehow (it almost always is) and our protagonist will pull through with the power of FRIENDSHIP! But it's the setting that I'm much more excited to see and explore.

I've certainly enjoyed this diversion into high fantasy with elements of political struggle. And honestly? I'd like to see more. Suppose that's why Final Fantasy Tactics tickled my fancy and why I'm hoping for more from the DioField Chronicle. Certainly, I want to know more about the Continent - the other piece of Valisthea that was never explored and where Harpocrates III, Charon and a few other characters hailed from.

If ever there should be a spin-off, I would be very glad to see what else the world of Valisthea has to offer. Or even how our characters navigate the new world they find themselves in.

There are, after all, so many unanswered questions. Like, if Clive did resurrect Joshua in the end, how did he reach shore without possibly drowning? He wasn't on the beach with Clive as his big brother turned to stone.

Or, how old can Torgal get? How do the people adapt to the sudden loss of magic?

Are there still monsters?

Does Gav take on the mantle of 'Cid the Outlaw?' Do the people in the Hideaway stop hiding and actually lead the people to a brighter tomorrow with their technology? Will Mid ever get her flying machine to work?

So many questions, so little time.

Before I go, though, dear reader, I'd like to leave off with another quote from the game. One that I think speaks to many: People need dreams to chase, especially in a world like this one.

[kyndaris]

One BILLION Dollars

Working five days a week, 7.5 to 8 hours each day, and commuting a total of two hours is an exhausting cycle most people find themselves trapped in. Is it any wonder we all wish to strike it lucky and escape the rat race? I know I certainly do. Saddled with a mortgage and looking to eventually move out, the idea of being able to freely do whatever I want with all the time in the world, without the threat of ending up destitute hanging over me like the Sword of Damocles is a very appealing idea.

But I wouldn't need a billion dollars to be comfortable. No. At most it would be a lump sum of five million that would see me cruise through the rest of my life. Especially if I choose to continue working part-time, or use the my freed up obligations to become a full-time author. Throw in a few lavish overseas holidays and I would be golden.

And yet the hypothetical still reamins.

If I had a billion dollars at my disposal, what would I use it for? It is, after all, a ridiculous amount of money.

When I was first presented with this question on my first date with Dikottir, I'd focused on the good I might do. Invest some of the money in stocks, perhaps create a fund to help out the homeless and give poverty a kick in the nuts. Or maybe I'd pour it into actual rehabilitation programs instead of the very punitive systems most governments have in place for criminals. What about youth outreach programs? Heck, affordable housing!

The list, it felt, was endless.

Especially as I'd not be beholden to the limitations governments face when they try to spend taxpayer dollars to fund a means to better society. I, a person of means, could give back to the many. There wouldn't be any need to appease a section of the community who think helping people to develop life skills is utter tripe or who think handouts simply enable bad habits.

Of course, I wouldn't need a billion dollars to pull some of these projects off. 75 million here, 100 million there...

After I'd done all the good I could possibly do in the world to make it a better place, there's still the possibility I'd have money left over.

How much I'd still have is unknown, but I think I could say with confidence that I'd probably still have enough to buy myself a Ferrari if I was so inclined. Maybe a slew of properties I'd watch grow. And live comfortably.

What if, though, I threw away all such expectations of helping the needy? If I had a billion dollars to invest into just one thing, what would it be?

Should I, perhaps, build myself a penile looking rocket to take me up into space a la Jeff Bezos? What about constructing a whole virtual world like Mark Zuckerberg?

I mean, with humanity rushing up to meet its doom - whether that be from global warming, microplastics, nuclear showdown, other hazardous chemicals we put into things supposedly to help us - who wouldn't want to escape from our current reality? I know I certainly would.

But I must admit, the technology I'd really want to invest in is something akin to what Elon Musk has dreamt up. And it's been seen in many a science fiction show or game. In fact, a version of it can be seen right now. Depending on the app of course.

I'm talking about augmented reality.

Shows tell us we would be swiping at menus and screens in mid-air. But I'd like to think we would do away with such limitations and scrolling through news articles, or, ahem, questionable fanfiction could be done with just a thought.

Imagine, if you will, the possibilities.

There you are, doing something mind-numbingly boring and repetitive at work? What if you could also be doing something else? Multi-task by watching a movie on a transparent overlay?

And why stop there?

The internet is already at our fingertips. What if you could look at something and have the information already beamed to you. That's not a random flower you see struggling to peek through the cracks in the footpath. No, that's a dandelion. If we wanted to be more technical, its scientific name is taraxacum officinale. Family: asteraceae.

Think of how useful having a toggleable heads up display would be!

Yes. If I had a billion dollars, I'd use it to create something akin to the Horizon: Zero Dawn focus. It's light, it's versatile and it looks pretty snazzy.

And if I have some money left over, I can pour it all into creating the ultimate space shuttle for out of space. Maybe one shaped like a questionable taco? Yes, the logistics might take some figuring out, but rocket designs are so bland that something a little creative might help our scientists stretch the other parts of their brains.

Who knows, we could have gummi ships in the future!

If I had another billion dollars, perhaps that's where I'll pour all my money into!

True, I might be pulling a Bezos and trying to escape our dying planet. But at least I'm doing it in style!

And, honestly, that's probably what matters more.

Now I just need to think up a snappy name for my trillion dollar company.