#yet another neighbor routinely will go stand out in the front yard and scream at the sky every once in awhile

[spacedace]

My neighbor is standing on his roof throwing a rope with a hook attached to the end of it at the trees in his back yard.

I don't know why the fuck he's doing it and I'm not getting close enough to a man flinging hook-ropes around to ask, but that's not gonna stop me from watching from the office window waiting to see if I need to call for an ambulance in the meantime

[1-800-sope]

Tag, You’re It (M)

paring: Jungkook x reader

rating: M

Gener: Yandere 

Warnings : Kidnapping 

Summery: They always say it’s someone you know, someone that you are close to that turns out to be a psycho freak, you just weren't expecting it to be your hot innocent next door neighbor.

Inspired by Tag, You’re It by queen mel <3

BTS Masterlist

“Looking at me through your window

“Boy, you had your eye for a little”

“Hi Y/n.” Jungkook, your friendly neighbor shouted from across the yard as he spotted you. “Good afternoon Jungook, How are you?” You shouted back mirroring his smile. “I’m doing good just got done with some grocery shopping.” Jungkook responded displaying the plastic bags he was holding in his arms.

With that you let out a groan as you inserted your key in the lock. “That reminds me, I have to do some shopping of my own.” A chuckle escaped from jungkook.

“I’ll cut you up and make you dinner

You’ve reached the end, you are the winner.”

“Say if you don’t have food, I hope i’m not overstepping but why don’t you come over for dinner tonight.” Jungkook asked innocently, biting his lip as he eyed you from the sided. You focused on opening your front door trying to ignore the pounding in your chest. “As much as I would enjoy that Mr. Jeon, I have some homework to get to tonight.” You said as you looked up at him. Your door was now unlocked but you didn’t want to go inside, not yet at least. You wanted to savor this moment with your overly extremely hot next door neighbor.

Jungkook nodded his head as he went to open his own front door. “Well I wish you all the luck on that homework, but just know my offer still stands.” To anyone that would have seem like an innocent invitation, to YOU it was an innocent invitation. but to Jungkook it was far from innocent. 

-

“Rolling down your tinted window

Driving next to me real slow, he said”

Jogging through the neighborhood was one of the things you did every morning five days out of the week. You would jog around the block two times, stop by Mrs. Kim’s daughters lemonade stand grab a drink and continue. It was all apart of the routine.

But having a suspicious black BMW slow down as it turned down the street you were making your way down was not apart of the rutie. 

You were an observant girl, always aware of your surrounds, you liked to be kept on your toes never getting too comfortable, some might call you paranoid. So when you turned your head and caught site of the slowed down car you picked up your pase. But so did the car.

“Howdy Neighbor.” A familiar voice called out as the car was now next to you. “oh my god Jungkook!” You jumped back face flush with a beating heart. God this boy will give you a heart attack one day.

Jungkook looked at you with innocent eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked as you stopped and placed both of your hands on your knees, taking in deep breaths. 

“Yes, you just scared the living daylights out of me that’s all.” You chuckled leaning back up whipping some sweat off of your forehead, when you make eye contact with him your face flushed.

gross and sweaty in front of the handsome neighbor way to go Y/n,

“Oh my bad I didn’t mean to.” He quickly spoke with a sincere look in his eyes. You laughed and shook your head. “It’s okay Jungkook, Just don’t drive so creepy next time.” 

“Let me take you for a joyride

I’ve got some candy for you inside.”

“Say, I just got back from the store and I have some popsicles it is a hot day, would you like any?” Jungkook asked with a sweet smile that almost made you say yes right away.

You watched as the young man reached in the back of his car behind the driver's seat, you took note on how the ink on his muscular arms looked extremely good

when he pulled forward a box of popsicle you looked away not wanted to get caught drooling over him. “Thank you Jungkook.”You smiled as you watched him open the box. Your mouth instantly watered.

“Come eat it inside.” Jungkook said. You watched in confusion as he leaned over and open the car door. “Oh I really shouldn’t” feeling self conscious you took a step back. 

“Nonsense, The popsicle will melt while it’s out there, and do you really wanna hold a sticky stick while you run.” He looked at you with a teasing smile. 

Giving up you rolled your eyes and got into the car. “that’s a good girl.” Jungkook said as you shut the door face now more flushed than before and chest pounding that you pray to the gods he can’t hear it.

‘What flavor do you want?” He asked dismissing the comment he just made. You on the other hand had the words still repeating in your head. Another puls feeling shot through you but this one was not in your chest.

“Is there Orange.” You mastered to ask as you let out an awkward cough hoping he just thinks your flustered state is from the morning run. “Let me take a look.” He mumbled digging through the box.

“If not cherry is fine, you know i’m okay with any flavor except grape. the grape ones-”  “taste like medicine” You and Jungkook said at the same time. You nodded. “You're in luck missy, I found an orange.” He playfully smirked holding up the orange flavored popsicle.

-

It’s been four weeks since your encounter with Mr. Hottie neighbor and you were thankful for that. Yes Jungkook was nice company but you won’t be able to go another minute with your heart going crazy like it was going to blast out of your chest.

It was currently 1:30 am and you were laying on your living room couch trying to finish up your thesis statement for one of your college courses, that when the third rumble of your stomach hit and you got fed up. 

grabbing your car keys and throwing a jacked over your tank top you made your way out the door and to your car. One of the perks of being a college kid is being broke, ordering takeout for three weeks straight really put a dent in your pocket.

starting your car up you drove to the nearest corner store that was open.

-

pulling into the parking lot you failed to notice how it was almost empty except for wo other cars.

stepping out you didn’t bother to lock your car door the goal of getting in and getting out was the on thing that filled your mind.

“Running through the parking lot

he chased me and he wouldn't stop”

Once you were done paying you quickly grabbed your bag and pushed open the door, the cold air greeting you in the procese sent a shiver down your spine. was it worth it to go out in your pajama shorts and a tank top, looking around you took in how dark it was. no it wasn’t.

quickly opening your car door you placed the bag next to you and the keys inside. taking a peaky through the rear view mirror. That’s when you saw it

There was a person in the backseat of your car but before you could let out a bloody scream they placed the a white cloth over your mouth. 

Now you were fully regretting going out tonight.

Not taking in a deep breath you reached your hand out to the cup holder next to you grabbing the paper spry you through your arm back and pressed down on it, the attacker cussed and moved their hand. 

not wasting a minute you got out the car and did what anyone in their right mind would do. You ran. you heard the car door slam shut and you knew they got out too the fast footsteps that started to follow you proved it. but you didn’t stop, you didn’t look back. 

“Grab my hand, pushed me down

took the words right out my mouth”

You felt the hands on you, the force pushed you to the ground as a hand went clasping around your mouth muffling your scram, a muscular arm wrapped around your waist bringing you back up.

no 

no 

no 

This was not happening, You were not done for. You couldn't wouldn't except this faith and that's why you did everything your self defense classes taught you. You slammed your foot on this psycho’s toes and he released you again with a cuss.

if you would have listened. you would have noticed that the voice sounded oddly familiar.

but before you can even get one step away something hard came in contact with the side of your head sending you straight to the gourd.

your blurry vision filled with large black boots and then you lost consciousness.

-

You slowly opened your eyes, gretted to a dim light and a room with four walls, no windows in sight. just a door. panic rushed through your body and you tried to move that’s when you noticed you were hanging.

A thick rope wrapped around your wrist was hanging you up from the ceiling nothing was supporting your feet.

“Enie meenie miny mo”

A voice was heard from behind you, it made your heart stop. 

“Get your lady by her toes”

You felt something brush against your ankle and you let out a piercing scream. The sinister sound turned into a child like giggle.

“If she screams, don’t let her go” it sung.

A choked sob escaped you as the tears started to run down your face. “Whyy why why why.” You whispered to weak to speak.

“Shhh shhh, it’s okay love.” The voice cooed as a hand was gently brushing down the side of your head.

The presence of your abductor finally showed itself,  they were now standing in front of you holding those familiar innocent doe like eyes.

“J-Jungkook?” 

“Howdy neighbor.” 

[kutemouse]

Becoming His (Part Two, Smut-Free Version)

Disclaimer: The images from my header belong to BigHit and BTS, but I edited them together. 

This is the smut-free version of Becoming His Part Two. Enjoy 💜

Age Recommendation: 18+

Warnings: Swears, kissing, SOMEONE coming in and being a total ASS, Joon being possessive af.

Word Count: 2,495

Summary: A bit after moving to a new neighborhood, you happen to meet your sexy new neighbor completely by coincidence. Or was it?

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Becoming His (Namjoon One-Shot, Yandere, Angst, Fluff) Part Two

You didn’t see Namjoon after that day. You were hoping to catch him jogging, or shooting baskets in his backyard again, but he didn’t come outside. Or, if he did, he didn’t during the times you were out and about. You were hoping to apologize, at least. He didn’t have to give you another shot, but at night when your fantasies seemed more vivid, you imagined he was as eager as you were to smooth things over with a quick conversation and a long fuck.

Namjoon, however, saw you. He watched from partially closed blinds as you went about your routine, seemingly unbothered by the fact that you completely blew him off. Each night, he waited until you turned off your lights for the night, watching the clock slowly tick until exactly twenty minutes went by, then slipped outside. He quietly climbed the fence between your yards and sat beneath your window, trying to get as close to you as possible.

Namjoon wanted to make things right, he just couldn’t concoct a scenario that wouldn’t come off badly to you. After all, you already rejected him. What could he do to make you love him the way he loved you? He couldn’t force you… or could he? While he toyed with that idea, the best Namjoon could currently hope for was that you would coincidentally bump into him, realize what you were missing out on, and come back to him.

One night, you cracked your window to try and relieve some of the oppressing summer heat swarming your home before you went to bed. As you slept, you dreamt of him, holding you, kissing you, loving you. “Namjoon,” you murmured, still totally asleep.

Back in reality, Namjoon perked up when he heard you say his name. He didn’t realize your window was open, and at first it made him freeze with fear. Had you possibly seen or heard him sneak into your backyard?

He stood, making as little movement as possible, and peeked into your window. Your eyes were closed, and he could hear soft snores coming from you. Were you… dreaming about him? Namjoon smiled at the thought. So you did want him, you did care about him, and you would love him. It was all he could do not to go around to the front of your house and knock on your door. But it was the middle of the night, and you weren’t supposed to know he was there.

Still, Namjoon needed a plan, and fast. Not being able to be near you was becoming too much to bear. The next day, as he lounged on his couch staring at the ceiling, trying to come up with some way to get you to talk to him again. He could follow you to the grocery store, bump into you there? No, too obvious. He also didn’t want to try something he already tried, knowing he’d just come off as pathetic.

A knock on his door made him sit up straight. Who could that be? He opened the door to see you there, of all people. “Hey,” you said, giving him a tentative smile.

“Hey.”

“I just came to give you this,” you said, handing him a piece of paper. It was a flyer for… a neighborhood party? At your place?

“I just wanted to get to know everyone on the block,” you explained. It was lame, you knew that, but you needed an excuse to see him and talk to him and this was the best you could come up with. You figured a party with other people around would ease some of the pressure, and maybe you would find a chance to apologize.

Namjoon smiled, showing off his signature dimples and making your stomach flip over itself. “Wow, this sounds great, Y/n.”

Ugh, you loved the way he said your name. If you could take a recording of just that sound, you’d listen to it for the rest of your life.

“Great, so I’ll see you there?” you said hopefully.

His dark eyes bore into you with a gaze so intense you just had to glance away. “Of course you will,” he said. The words dripped from his lips like honey, and although they had no sensual connotation whatsoever, they awoke something in your middle that went straight to your core.  Namjoon bit his lip, slowly releasing it from between his teeth, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure even as your panties grew damp.

“Awesome, well, I’ll see you Friday,” you muttered before turning away and stumbling across his lawn back to your safe haven.

Namjoon’s smirk didn’t diminish, even after you ran away once more. This time, though, he knew you weren’t running because you were rejecting him… you were running because you were holding yourself back. Namjoon had no idea why, but he didn’t care. He would break you.

Friday arrived, and you made yourself stay busy in order to keep your thoughts away from Namjoon. It worked for a while, but then he began drifting into your mind as you started getting ready and setting up. Would he like the catered sandwiches you ordered? Would he appreciate the short-yet-sensible polka-dot dress you spent hours shopping for?

Finally, 5:30 arrived, and the first set of neighbors showed up. It was the elderly couple who lived around the corner. You welcomed them in and thought it was so sweet when they told you they brought a salad to share.

You whipped open the door each time the doorbell rang, your hopes soaring then falling when you realized it wasn’t him. The family with three little ones came, the young just-married couple came, and even the three rowdy college boys who lived behind you came. Free food could really draw in a crowd, but still, he didn’t show up.

An hour later, you nearly gave up on the thought of seeing him. You guessed you imagined the electric attraction between the two of you. Either way, you were majorly disappointed. You were setting dishes in the sink when you heard a voice behind you. “Hey there.”

You spun, nearly dropping the glass you were holding. “Namjoon!” you gasped.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he chuckled, holding his hands up. “I knew you’d probably be busy and just let myself in. Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.”

It definitely was if he was walking around looking like that. He sported a light blue collared shirt, casually unbuttoned low enough to show off some chest, and dark trousers. He looked like he just got back from the office, pulled off his tie, and came over. Your fingers twitched, wishing it was you who pulled off that tie.

He stepped towards you, getting so close you could smell his cologne. It was so light, you wouldn’t know he was wearing it unless you were in tight proximity… just like now. You cleared your throat and moved away, but he moved with you as if chasing you. “Y/n,” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

“Y-Yes Namjoon?”

You backed up all the way to the counter, gasping as you felt the edge of it press into your skin. Just then, your neighbor Sunhee, the mother of the three kids currently screaming and running around your backyard, popped her head into the kitchen. “Oh, hello Mr. Kim,” she said brightly. “Y/n, I was just coming in here to see if you needed any help.”

“Oh, that would be great, thanks.”

The rest of the party went without a hitch, and you found yourself bright and cheery as you talked with and got to know your new neighbors. Everyone was so damn nice, but secretly, you were anticipating the moment they would all leave you alone with the one person you actually wanted to be with. As the evening wore on, people began to make their good-byes, thanking you for such a great time. “We really need to do this more often,” Sunhee said, hugging you tight. “It’s so good to see everyone.”

“Agreed,” you said, hugging her back.

Over her shoulder, you saw a familiar figure open and close your door, and your heart completely stopped. He brushed his long, dark hair out of his eyes and looked around, smirking when his eyes finally found yours. Your legs turned to jelly as that smirk crashed into you. Damn. Even after all this time, he still affected you, no matter how much you tried to shove it down.

You thanked Sunhee for coming one last time and made sure everyone else was out before stopping that asshole in his tracks. “What are you doing here, Jungkook?” you muttered, placing a hand on his chest.

“What do you mean?” he asked, poking his tongue between his teeth and quickly withdrawing it. “I came to see you.”

“Yeah, right,” you snapped. “You have no right, coming in here like you own the place.”

“I might not own this place, but I own you,” he said, his cocky tone setting your teeth on edge.

“No you don’t.”

He stepped close, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Are you sure about that?”

You shoved him backwards. “Get out.”

The corners of his perfect, pink mouth turned up in a menacing smirk. “No.”

“I thought I made myself clear,” you hissed. “I’m no longer going to be your fuck-buddy, Jungkook. I wanted something more, but you made it clear you didn’t.”

“I don’t recall saying anything of the sort.”

You scoffed. “You didn’t have to use words. Finding you in bed with another girl the day after you told me you had feelings for me was plenty.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Please. We weren’t exclusive.”

“Maybe not, but you don’t just go and fuck another girl right after telling another you care for them!”

“Everything okay, Y/n?” a voice asked. You turned to see Namjoon standing there, his chin raised as he defiantly stared Jungkook down, large hands shoved in his pockets.

Jungkook scoffed. “Are you kidding me, Y/n? Look at you, the complete hypocrite. We’re apart for less than a month, and you already have another boy toy.”

“He’s nothing of the sort,” you muttered, folding your arms and turning away from him. “I said I didn’t want you here. Now please leave.”

“No chance in hell,” he growled. “I came back here to see you, and I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”

Something inside of you snapped. “Which is what?! Another booty call?! I said I was done with you, Jungkook, so either get the fuck out or I’ll call the police.”

Jungkook started towards you, but before you could react, Namjoon stepped in front of him. “She said leave,” he said. His eyes flashed with a dark anger that turned the tension from smoldering ash up to a roaring flame. You took a step back, suddenly afraid. You had never seen this side of him before.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Jungkook snarled, attempting to push Namjoon out of the way.

“Actually, it does,” Namjoon growled. “She’s mine.”

“She just said–”

“And I’m saying she’s mine.”

Rage roiled off Namjoon in tidal waves, threatening to break everything that stood in his way. Jungkook snorted. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Call me when you’re ready to be fucked properly again, bitch,” he spat at you as he turned and walked out the door.

Your legs gave out underneath you, and you sank to the floor. This was definitely not how you wanted tonight to go. Namjoon instantly came to you, concern written all over his face. “Are you alright?” he asked, gently reaching out.

“Don’t touch me!” you snapped. “What the hell was that? Why did you say I was yours?”

Namjoon drew back, shocked. “What?”

“That phrase you kept saying. ‘She’s mine.’ Why would you say that?”

“Well, because… because…”

“Because what?!”

“Because I care about you, Y/n!”

You stared at Namjoon, searching for any signs of untruthfulness or deceit that you had commonly found in Jungkook’s eyes, but there was nothing but pure sincerity in his eyes. Breathing hard, you stood up from the floor, still trembling from the confrontation. Namjoon reached out to help you, but withdrew his hands quickly.

“No, it’s okay,” you said, your tone more gentle now.

You tentatively placed your hands on his chest, fingers lightly stroking the collar of his shirt. “I… I care about you too,” you whispered.

Relief flooded through Namjoon, putting out the roaring fire of anger he felt earlier. He stepped close enough for you to catch a whiff of his cologne again, enticing the rest of your senses to dive in. He was only centimeters away, close enough to feel the heat radiating between his body and yours, but not close enough to feel the hard, broad muscles of his shoulders. You looked up into his eyes, his pupils blowing wide as you studied each other, waiting for someone to make the next move.

After longing after each other for so long, you thought he wouldn’t wait a single second to be with you, but it turns out you were both vulnerable, both afraid of messing this up, so you took it slow. Each small movement drew you closer together, no matter how minute. The way his eyes roamed your face. The way you slowly slid your hands up to rest on his shoulders. The way his lips hovered tantalizingly over yours.

Finally, as if on cue, you both lunged towards each other, crashing your lips together to meld into one, perfect kiss. It stayed sweet and innocent for longer than you would’ve liked, with Namjoon being careful to keep his tongue inside his own mouth no matter how much he was yearning to taste you. You separated from each other, both breathless, and Namjoon continued peppering kisses down your cheek to your jaw. You sighed and tightened your grip on him. “Say you’re mine,” he murmured.

You opened your eyes. “Wh-What?”

“Say you’ll be mine.” He drew back and smiled, nothing but sincere tenderness in his eyes.

“Are… Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” you whispered.

He hesitated, then nodded. Your mouth parted open. No, this was too quick. Much too fast. You barely knew the guy, hadn’t even been on a date with him yet, and yet here he was, asking for the commitment you’d been craving.

His gaze grew apprehensive as he waited for your answer, but you continued looking into those dark, beautiful eyes. He felt so warm on top of you. You liked him, there was no doubt about that, and the spark of attraction was definitely there. Fuck it, what did you have to lose? You wanted to become his.

“Okay,” you murmured.

“What?”

“Okay. Yes. I’ll be yours.”

Namjoon let out a relieved sigh. “Really?”

“Really.”

If only you knew just what you had agreed to.

[wishful-daydream]

Illusive | chapter 1

Pairing: Jimin x fem!reader (probably other future pairings as well)

Summary: You try to conceal your own secrets while you start to uncover those of your new city. [supernatural au] 

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

A/N: I wrote and rewrote this so many times ^^’ It took me so long to figure out this chapter and I’m still not fully satisfied, but I think it’s just interesting enough. I hope you think so! 

Your hands jostle the doorknob of a cold and dark room in desperation. All you can hear are hissing whispers and your own pants as you try to open the door again and again in vain. Suddenly the door falls over and you run as soon as you can, your bare feet hitting the carpet as you find yourself in an empty hallway. The white-walled house seems empty. You pass through the hall more leisurely now, glancing at the doors on either side of you with curiosity. The next door is ajar, and light passes through it into the dim hallway, so you step inside. In the room, you see nothing but a window and its light curtains hanging over the bed beneath it. At the foot of the bed, closest to where you stand, is a big wooden chest. You walk over to it and kneel, thinking that there must be something interesting inside. As you lift the heavy lid of the chest, you hear a chirp and suddenly a flood of bats flies out of the chest. You scream as they swarm you, their high pitched screeches the last thing you hear.

That dream plays through your mind as you sit in your literature class, not really listening to the professor. Even though you aren’t afraid of bats, the dream was ominous. Actually, every dream that you remember having here so far has either been scary or unsettling, and you hope that’s just your anxieties about moving here manifesting in dream form.

Your class finally ends, and everyone starts to exit the lecture hall as the professor blurts reminders of what the textbook is and to read the syllabus.

Too distracted by contemplating the meaning of your nightmare, you don’t realize that it’s raining when you step out of the room until your hair is already a little damp. Unfortunately, you don’t have an umbrella, and your jacket doesn’t have a hood, so you have to hurry to the train station.

As you look at all the students scattered around the campus, you notice the atmosphere at this school, and in this city, is a lot different from your old one. People tend to keep to themselves here, and don’t really regard each other unless they know each other - the opposite of your hometown. Though it’s strange to get used to, you prefer it over the way people used to pry into each other’s lives.

By the time you reach your the station your hair and jacket are soaked. You feel exhausted and cold, and you want to just go home and take a shower, but there isn’t much to eat at home so you decide to go to the store first. You buy your ticket and wait on the seats near the tracks next to another young woman, scrolling through Instagram to pass the time.

----

The sun is going down when you get home from the grocery store, a couple heavy bags in your hand and your backpack still on. You sigh and stop to rest, relieved you don’t have to walk any further and that it’s still light out - as light as it can be when the sky is cloudy.

You rub your free hand up and down your arm as you start to walk up the front yard, and you notice that your next door neighbor has just gotten home. He slips his key into the doorknob and pauses, glancing over his shoulder to look right at you. The black haired young man gives you a bewitching smile, then returns to unlocking his door. You don’t have time to return his smile, since he looked away so quickly it feels like he never looked at you at all. Not to mention you weren’t expecting him to suddenly glance over at you,  embarrassingly catching you looking at him - how couldn’t you when he’s that attractive? You linger for a moment while he disappears into the doorway, before walking up to yours to do the same

After flicking on the light, you set your groceries on the kitchen counter and start putting them away, that look on your neighbor’s face still on your mind. Even though it was a fleeting moment of eye contact, you keep thinking about it. You haven’t uttered anything but a “hi” to him in the several days you’ve been here, but he was still one of the only friendly people you’ve encountered. Every time he sees you, he never fails to acknowledge you with a smile.

One of the reasons your mom insisted you move here was because this city isn’t the same as your hometown, so you of course knew living here wouldn’t feel the same. You try not to make any judgments about this place yet, since it’s only been a few nights and you’ve mostly been at school or at home, but things feel so opposite here. Even the weather isn’t the same, but you don’t mind that because you prefer colder weather anyway.

Humming, you open the fridge to put away the milk and couple other things that belong there. You’ve taken to humming and singing around the house a lot since, unless you watch something on tv or your phone, there was rarely any other sound present. Silence was never something that bothered you but now that it was constant you didn’t like it as much.

Just when you open a cabinet to put the last groceries away, your wish for more noise is granted when you hear something hit the kitchen window.

You turn around slowly, nervous to check what might have made that sound. Should you ignore it? There are coyotes around here - your mom made sure to mention that a dozen times - but you doubt a coyote would hit the window…  You decide that you’ll wait until there’s another noise to investigate, but you know you don’t really have enough courage for that.

With all the groceries put away, you don’t have much more to do besides eat dinner and shower. As if moving to a whole new city to live by yourself for the first time isn’t overwhelming enough, starting school immediately after gave you no time to prepare mentally or adjust before you had things to do.

After eating dinner, you leave your dishes in the sink and don’t bother to wash them right now, both because you don’t want to be by the kitchen window and because you don’t feel like washing them. Right when you walk away from the window, you hear another sound outside, and in a surprising moment of bravery, you turn around and take a look. Nothing’s there.

“You’re just paranoid,” you mumble to yourself.

You still make sure to lock the doors and windows anyway before going upstairs with your backpack.

----

As the week goes by, you find yourself easily adapting to how things are here. You even start to ignore any sounds you hear at night, which by now you’re just convinced are normal - you probably wouldn’t even notice them if the house wasn’t always so quiet.

You also don’t mind living alone as much as you feared - besides at night, because a break in is one of your biggest fears. You might’ve lived with your parents before, but otherwise, you didn’t hang around many people besides in school. Even though you aren’t very lonely, your routine is starting to get monotonous already. Since you have no classes today, you go out for a walk to see more of the town.

Mostly you wanted to check out the cool shops that you found out about when you looked up things to do around here, but as soon as you get close, the area is closed off. There are police cars and yellow tape, and a crowd of people surrounding a news van. You consider if you should move closer, but someone stops you.

“I wouldn’t go over there,” you hear someone coming up behind you say. You recognize the brunette right away from one of your classes, and she seems to recognize you too when she realizes it’s you.

“Hey, we’re in the same photography class, right?,” she asks, her lips turned up into a smile.

You’re surprised she knows you since there are so many people in that class - you don’t even know her name. “We are,” you nod.

Her smile widens, “I knew it. Anyways, you shouldn’t go any closer. This one’s more disturbing than the last one.”

Last one? You grow uneasy at the thought that whatever happened is a regular occurrence around here. You look between your classmate and the crowd of people before asking. “What happened?”

She raises her brows, then furrows them. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about the attacks. Are you, like, new around here?”

“I just moved here this week,” you explain, and her expression instantly changes to one of confusion. You worry that you said something weird or made the conversation awkward somehow.

“Here? I can’t see why anyone would, but I guess you don’t know about the crime lately. There have been a few murders in the past couple months. All the victims were slashed somewhere and practically had all their blood drained.”

If you had known about this before, you definitely wouldn’t have agreed to move here. A moment of panic grips you, and you wonder how your mom could have neglected to find out about it. Surely she would have told you if she knew. Suddenly you’re more nervous to live alone again.

“Hey, don’t worry too much. They aren’t frequent and as long as you’re not out at night, you’ll probably be okay. Here, let me give you my number. Have you made any friends here yet?”

“No, not really,” you admit as you hand her your phone, hoping she doesn’t find that lame.

She hands it back to you a moment later with a smile, “Well, now you have. I gotta go now, but I’ll see you on Monday, y/n.”

“Oh, okay. See you then,” you say, waving back at her as she walks away. You look at the new contact to see her name is Dahyun, feeling grateful that she was so nice to you. A small part of you wants to be skeptical of it, and questions why she would befriend you when she doesn’t know you, and you reason it’s probably because of that.

Seeing as you can’t go to the shop, you decide to walk back home, giving the crime scene a final nervous glance before you turn around.

When you reach your neighborhood, you see a grey tabby cat up ahead. You try to approach it slowly so it doesn’t run away. The cat doesn’t seem to notice you and wanders onto your neighbor’s yard, its tail swaying behind it gracefully. You realize that this must be your neighbor’s cat, and you know you shouldn’t just walk onto his property but you can’t resist how cute his cat is. After all, just quickly petting her wouldn’t be so bad, right?

You follow the feline onto the yard, and she meows when she finally notices you. She doesn’t move away when you walk a little closer, only stands still as she swishes her tail slowly. Her chartreuse eyes examine you as you kneel down next to her before she takes a step toward you. You’re smiling the whole time, excited to be able to pet the pretty cat, or at least get very close to petting it.

“Hi, kitty,” you coo.

From the porch, Jimin sees you kneeling on his lawn, your open hand held out in front of you. The young man watches with interest as you patiently let the neighborhood cat sniff your fingers, an adoring smile gracing your lips. His own lips quirk at the sight, finding the interaction cute.

You gently pet the cat between the ears until she slowly retreats. Suddenly she lifts her head, meowing again more loudly and hauntingly, and you pull away slightly, your eyes wide. She lets another prolonged meow out and you stand to your feet, your eyes nervously scanning the area for witnesses to this strange ordeal. You’re met with the nonplussed stare of your neighbor and you gasp. He looks like he wants to say something, but you don’t allow him the chance because you bolt to your house, leaving the still yowling cat behind.

Jimin descends the steps of his porch and gives the tabby a questioning expression. “What was that?”

----

Almost every night since you moved in next door, the light from what Jimin presumed was your bedroom faintly bled through your curtains. The light would stay on until any time between 1 and 3 a.m.; hours he’s sure are unusual for most people. It isn’t as though the light bothers him. No, it doesn’t bother him at all. It’s just that he’s so curious. Are you reading? Doing homework? Are you afraid of the dark? It’s just another item on the list of things he wonders about you ever since the incident with the neighborhood cat.

Jimin had gone about a year without a neighbor on the right side of his house. He partly attributes this to why he’s interested in you, but he can’t deny he also finds you cute. But neither of those things makes him as curious as what happened. As much as he’d like to waltz over to your door and invite you over (or, if you were so inclined, be invited in by you) for a meal or  maybe some tea or coffee, the young man can already see the critical faces of his friends when they find out about such an interaction. They would shake their heads and remind him once again that he shouldn’t plan on getting close to you. He sighs. They’re too cautious.

You saw each other most days when one of you took out the trash or checked the mailbox and exchanged a few polite words. To talk to you properly just once isn’t risky, he assures himself. All he wants is to know more about you, about what might have caused the stray cat to freak out. Besides, living alone grows lonely and boring, and he has time to spare for one little interaction.

He finally moves away from his window, a look of interest and determination on his face as he shifts his gray curtain closed. ‘Until tomorrow’, he muses. 

[spoonhawk0-blog]

Frederick W. Klempt's 1880 Tenement and Saloon - 16 North Moore Street

For years James P. Wilson's saloon had stood on the southwest corner of Varick and North Moore Streets.  In 1878, after he was appointed a deputy sheriff, Wilson sold the business to a man named Conroy; although he continued on as bartender.  Conroy's new venture would not last long at all.  In 1879 developer Albert Block acquired the corner and hired architect Frederick W. Klempt to replace it with a tenement and store.

Klempt filed plans in March 1880 for a "five-story brick tenement" to cost $16,500--or about $408,000 today.  Largely forgotten, Klempt was busy at the time, mostly designing tenement buildings throughout the city.  The structure he designed for Block at No. 16 North Moore Street was typical of his work.  Twenty-five feet wide on North Moore, it stretched 75 feet south along Varick.   The four upper floors were faced in red brick, their sandstone lintels decorated with incised floral designs, typical of the neo-Grec style.  A rigidly geometric iron cornice carried on the style.

The ground floor held two storefronts under a continuous cornice.  The northern space seems to have been designed as a saloon, operated by Edward G. Schroeder, from the beginning.  A cast iron column fronted the angled doorway.  Both storefronts featured wood-framed, projecting shop windows.

A sandstone street sign was incorporated into the facade.  The incised decoration of one of the lintels can be seen at the right.

Interestingly, following Albert Block's death, his sons John P., Richard W., and Edward Block, did not inherit the property, but purchased it from the estate.  The three men paid $45,000 for the building on October 15, 1886; a considerable $1.2 million today.

In the meantime, middle-class tenants lived in the upper floors, coming and going through the entrance at No. 11 Varick.  Among them was former policeman John Hamblin.  He had retired from the force on September 29, 1868 and lived here on his $300 per year pension (about $8,400 today).  He would remain in the building for several years, most likely until his death.

Druggist Robert Ray and his wife, Margaret, had domestic problems in the winter of 1889.   For whatever reason, Margaret, who was 25 years old, was convinced her husband intended to murder her.   If so, he would have had easy access to the means to do so.   Murders and suicides in the 1880's and '90's routinely involved substances like carbolic acid or Paris green, easily purchased at drugstores.

At 3:00 on the morning of February 18, Margaret ran out of the building in her bare feet, "while laboring under the delusion that some persons were trying to poison her," reported The Evening World.  A policeman "found it necessary to take her in charge," not because she needed protection, but because she was hysterical.

In 1889 it was not easy for a woman to convince officials that it was her husband, not she, who was the culprit.  "At the Jefferson Market [courthouse] she told Justice Duffy that her husband wanted to get rid of her, and that she was not insane."   It does not appear that investigators went to the North Moore Street apartment.  Instead Margaret "was committed to examination as to her sanity."

In July 1890 36-year-old Charles N. Brunie took over the lease of the saloon from Edward Schroeder.  The German-born Brunie was already well-known as a saloon proprietor, having operated the upscale bar in the Northwich Hotel since 1879.  A Souvenir of New York's Liquor Interests described that saloon in 1893 saying it was "elegant in all [its] appointments, being fitted up with solid black walnut fixtures, heavy plate glass mirrors, artistically decorated walls and ceiling and all the latest improvements."

The booklet noted "Mr. Brunie's trade had so increased that he found it necessary to supply additional accommodations for his customers and he opened a branch store at the corner of Varick and North Moore Streets.  This is neatly and attractively fitted up and enjoys a large and high-class patronage."  (Considering the industrial neighborhood around the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad's freight yards, one wonders exactly how "high-class" Brunie's patronage here was.)

Brunie had a close call on June 20, 1893 when the train he was aboard, returning from the races at Sheepshead Bay, derailed.  Seven passengers were killed and among the 18 injured was Brunie.

When Richard and Edward Block decided to build another tenement next door, they instructed architect George F. Pelham to nearly duplicate No. 16.  The close match was slightly out of date architecturally, but created a visually appealing composition.

Although No. 18 North Moore Street (right) was designed by a different architect and constructed 14 years later than No. 16, the two purposely appear to be contemporary.

While most of the tenants lived quietly, eking a living through low-level jobs; some were victims of tragic accidents.  On Saturday, September 5, 1896 August Creger attempted to fill his rare spare time by renting an 18-foot fishing boat and heading into the Hudson River.  Later a severe storm struck.  Two days later The New York Times reported "He has not been seen since.  The boat, split from stem to stern, was found by harbor police in the North River yesterday."

Charles Jaeger worked in the nearby freight yards.  The 54-year old was at work on the night of September 2, 1898 when disaster struck.  The Times reported "He was standing on the tracks weighing freight when a car backed up and he was caught between it and a car standing on the track."  He was crushed to death.

With no playgrounds and no parks nearby, the children of No. 11 Varick Street played in the streets.  Eight-year-old Anna Morrisey joined a large group of children playing games on Thanksgiving Day, 1914.  While they frolicked, a vicious dog was menacing passengers attempting to board the Barclay Street Ferry, several blocks to the south.  The Times reported "A policeman chased it up West Street and realizing that the animal was a menace, telephone to the Beach Street Station."

Two policemen were sent out to find the mad dog.  They found it at Varick and Franklin Streets--too late to prevent chaos.  "The youngsters tried to get of out of the way, but the animal sprang into the group," said the article.  Screaming children scattered, but the dog repeatedly bit them.  When 8-year-old Teyo Croco received a bite on his hand, his brother Victor tried to rescue him.  He too was bitten.  Anna Morrissy was one of the six who were attended to by a doctor from the Hudson Street Hospital.

The dog was cornered by the policemen in front of No. 40 Hudson Street and shot.  The Board of Health was notified regarding the presumably rabid animal.

The saloon had been taken over from Charles Brunie in 1906 by Ernest W. Fick.  But the enactment of Prohibition put an end to that business.  In 1920 the space was converted to the office of the Blue Line Motor Freight line; and by 1933 it was home to the Johnn'y Express company.

The struggles of the tenants was exemplified by young Raymond Tassaro in 1922.  The 12-year-old's mother was a widow and there were several other children in the family.  To help support them, he ran a newsstand after street across the street, at Franklin and Varick Streets.

Saturday January 7 was a frigid day and Raymond started to build a fire at the edge of the sidewalk to keep warm.  He most likely never saw the H. J. Heinz delivery truck backing up to the curb.  The rear wheel crushed and fatally injured the boy.  The driver was arrested on a technical charge of homicide.

Almost immediately after the repeal of Prohibition the ground floor once again became a bar.  The Tribeca neighborhood was still gritty through the 1970's.  Among the upstairs tenants in 1971 was Don D. Dumas.  The 41-year old accountant had done temporary work for the Parks, Recreation and Cultural Affairs Administration.  On June 3 that year he was arrested on charges of forgery, grand larceny and the cashing of forged checks.

At the time the tenant list had undergone a peculiar transformation.  In January 1973 The New York Times noted "The building, which has a bar and grill on the ground floor, is occupied mainly by single men."  Those men were, according to police, mostly homosexuals.

Donald MacNiven was 40-years old and his next-door neighbor, John Beardsley, was 53.  Both had lived in their fifth floor apartments here for about a decade.  When fire fighters responded to a fire in MacNiven's two-room apartment on January 8, 1973, they found both men dead on the living room floor.

The fire was described as "suspicious" and both MacNiven and Beardsley had multiple stab wounds.  A neighbor, Stewart Hieghton, told investigators that he was awakened around 6:00 that morning "by sounds of scuffling."  But after listening for a few minutes, he went back to sleep.  An hour later he smelled smoke and notified the landlord, who called the Fire Department.

The police description of MacNiven's apartment is evidence that the Tribeca renaissance had not yet arrived here.  According to The New York Times it "was sparely furnished.  There was a mattress on the floor and no bed.  Books and magazines were strewn around the living room."

The attacks soon appeared to be just the beginning of a reign of terror.  Days later another gay man, Ronald Cabo, was found stabbed to death in his Thompson Street apartment.   And then on January 19, 1973 The Times reported "The discovery of the bodies of two young men floating in the Hudson River off Greenwich Village added yesterday to the fears of the homosexual community, already stunned by the three recent murders of homosexuals in the area."

The rediscovery of Tribeca eventually did arrive at the corner of Varick and North Moore Streets.  By the early 1990's Walker's, a trendy watering hole opened in the former saloon space; and upstairs today there is a total of just eight apartments.  While the ground floor has undergone significant change, the upper floors appear much as they did when Margaret Ray feared for her life in 1889.

photographs by the author

Source: http://daytoninmanhattan.blogspot.com/2018/10/frederick-w-klempts-1880-tenement-and.html

[soulofmolasses]

narrative

grade 7

Underappreciated. I need one stupid word to describe myself? Underappreciated. There you go. How about we play a different game; instead of “go around in a circle and give one word to describe yourself because it’s the stupid first day of stupid school”, how about we play, “I get to be on top for a day, I, the stupid orphan who has nobody, gets to be loved for once in my life?”

Hi. My name is Shadow Star. Sorry if I seem a little demented, maybe it’s because my parents died when I was only 2 moons old, and the rest of my family is “in hiding”, or something like that. Sure, like they’re not just telling the government to spare my feelings and lie about why they don’t want to take care of me. I know why.

And by the way, my first name isn’t Shadow. It’s actually Shadow Star. I have a middle name that I wish I could say I took to the grave with me, but if I have a last name, I don’t know about it.

And, as I was saying, I have nobody. Nobody except the rats on the street. Our town’s only orphanage is broken down, and since nobody cares about Planet X, especially not about our run-down town Orkelia, we’ve never gotten a new one, and we’re one out of four widespread communities on this planet.

What’s Planet X? Oh, sorry, I guess I didn’t really tell you much about my home. I don’t know much about the other planets, but the gist of it is that they’re all in one stellar system, all 26 of them, and they decided, “Hey, let’s name them after the alphabet we created!” So, yeah, that’s pretty much what happened. Planet A is closest to our central star, which has no life on it, and Planet Z is farthest away. Since people tend to thrive more around Planet A, since they have the most heat, A was unintentionally made most important, and Z least, which is probably why only people running from the law go to Z.

But anyways, I live on Planet X, and let’s just say I would rather live with the rats than the boys here my age. I don’t have a house, but I’m lucky that I don’t have to live on the street because of it. I live in an abandoned barn, sleeping in the hay loft with my one lonely blanket.

It really is true; nobody likes me. They either ignore, avoid, or make fun of and try to trip me as I walk through the streets looking for someone who could even look at me with some compassion. Compassion, not pity. They are two different stories altogether. Only one person in my life has looked at me with pity. To that day, pity was another thing I craved, but when I finally got it, I couldn’t believe how angry it made me feel that just because they had a better life than me, they could look at me and think,

“Wow, his life must be hard!” Pity is only wanted in small amounts, and from someone who will actually try to give me a better life because of it. Which, of course, has never happened.

Oh, right, now you’re probably wondering, “Well, who gave you that pity in the first place?”

The person who gave me my only look of pity was the father of the girl who changed my life. She was gorgeous. We met when we were 84 moons old, or about 7 years old, 2 years ago. Her family came here when they got lost and ended up here in Orkelia instead of Suria, the tourist attraction, small but with a simple sort of elegance, which is 20 miles south. It was late, so they only stayed here until noon the next day, then headed off to Suria, but even that short amount of time was amazing. The boys were all jealous, trying to get the attention of who would have been the youngest supermodel of all time, if she had lived anywhere on her Planet C other than on a large plantation with nobody for miles. Of course, none of us were actually trying to flirt or anything like that, but her bubbly personality and natural beauty just attracts people like nectar attracts bees. And yet, out of everybody, she looked to me as her friend. We spent all our time together, for those few hours, and I practically fell in love with her just because she wanted to be nice to me. She gave me that blanket. I can still smell her strawberry shampoo. Her name is Sheen.

She unintentionally taught me something important about life: All good things end. Quickly.

So, as I lie here, her blanket covering my eyes and my stiff back on the hay, I ask myself the question everyone must ask themselves at one point or another,

“Why is it all worth it?”

~~~

My eyes are wide open within an instant. 7:15. Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go. My daily routine is shattered today. At 7:25, the bullies will come looking. Why didn’t I wake up earlier? I’m lucky I don’t have much to rescue from the barn before I run under Ms. Evelyn Mars’s front porch so they don’t find me when they ransack the barn, stealing anything of use and mainly trying to beat me up for the fun of it.  Every day of my life. My ripped-leather watch I found in a gutter somewhere must be breaking, or it would have gone off at the time I need to wake up to try and get my hair and hygiene under control before they come. My appearance and smell will have to be put second today.

~~~

After school, I carry on with my day, trying to forget the morning as I walk back home. I’ve been doing this so long I could be completely forgetting the real world, living in my imagination, and my legs would still find their way through the busy streets back to the barn, my home. But I try, I really try, not to let my imagination suck me in too far. I know when this happens, I will either get jumped by one of the gangs who makes fun of me, or accidentally turn one yard too soon and end up falling through the floor of some abandoned building.

It rained yesterday, so I splash from puddle to puddle, trying to look like a normal kid, although I will never be one. I know that in my heart, not just from the fact that it’s yelled through the cafeteria everyday at school. I finally reach a building with salmon pink paint peeling off the wood. Home. I realize with a start that most of the barn floor will be wet from the holes in the roof, since I only bothered to fix the ones that affected the hay loft. So I tromp across the marsh of the barn, listening to my shoes squelch, each time flinching with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction. I shake them off, trying not to get any mud on my torn socks, and climb up the rickety ladder, perched as if about to fall.

It is warm inside the hay loft. I wonder why. There is no reason heat should be in here; there never has been, which is why my highest stealing record is usually met during the winter. I stand here, completely still, waiting for a gang to jump out at me. Nothing happens, so I go to investigate the source. I don’t find anything.

Out of nowhere, I hear a giggle, almost malicious. Hands are tied around my waist, my eyes, my mouth, my legs. I cannot move, so I desperately flail out with my hands as my legs are brought up and I am lifted off the ground, being carried sideways, someone using their fist as a gag. I bite down on it without thinking, and whoever it was stifles a scream, and one of the hands supporting me dips down, just for a second. But they make one error; he does not take his fist out of my mouth.

I have always been a quick thinker. Today, I guess I was more mentally prepared. In that millisecond where his grip falters, I kick out, surprisingly weak, as always, and at the same time, punch the one whose fist is still there, right in the gut, and he emitted such a high pitch I thought the neighbors would come help beat me up too for causing it. I focus in putting all my weight towards the ground until I go completely limp and the two left cannot bear to hold such a tactical arm-flailer any longer. I thud to the ground, and with three chasing after me, one still lying on his back and holding where my fist met his jeans, I make yet another split-second decision, and, instead of running to the town to try to get help, I turn to the forests and fields and sprint until I can’t breathe.

~~~

Each of the planets has one location that can teleport you to any other planet in the stellar system. And so, once I finally can’t hear anything but the chirping of birds and the rustling of trees, no trailing footsteps wondering when the little sucker “Ivy” would get tired, I stop for just a second, and run south.

~~~

My middle name is Ivy. There. I said it. Now back to my life. I’m about to give up, the ice inside my heart growing larger every second, when I see a sign.

Suria

Welcome!

You’ll think twice about that welcome once you see who I am.

~~~

The teleporter stops omitting a blue light, and I step off, feeling a little dizzy, but determined not to show it. I touch my heart, and I can almost feel the skin getting colder, even though this planet is warmer than Planet X. Suria didn’t care about me, and what did I care, as long as there weren’t people my age ready to hurt me in the place I called home.

I look around me, the light of the central star is blinding, too blinding, and suddenly I wish I had taken the broken sunglasses under Ms. Mars’s porch I had seen this morning. But I had left that place behind. I couldn’t go back now. I would have to get used to the warmer temperatures and brighter light here on Planet C.

I think you know why I’m here.

~~~

I’m still trudging along through this big Fashion Avenue planet’s only farm. It has a small forest from the way I came in, climbing over the small fence. I guess they don’t really expect anyone to be breaking in to a farm when they could be breaking into the most popular clothing store in the stellar system, so they don’t have much security here. Then I see it-a sky blue house with white shutters, just as I imagined from the way she had described it to me.

I can almost feel myself growing older as I hesitate on the front porch. Sheen was stressed and tired from not coming to the right destination that day we met- how do I know she even remembers me? But the growing arrogant part of me knocks on the door before the part of me that thinks things through even knows what’s happening. Almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for me, I see the pure white of the door retreat away, a flash of gleaming lavender hair, and suddenly I am wrapped in an embrace. Sheen stills wears strawberry shampoo.

After Sheen has introduced me to her parents again-since they had forgotten me the second they left, not that I expected anything more, we head upstairs to her room. I like this house. It is quaint, simple, humble, but more beautiful than any mansion I could imagine. And Sheen being in it makes it even more so.

~~~

I sleep on the floor after many pleads that I sleep in Sheen’s bed and she will sleep with her parents. I am used to it, I say. And it’s true. With a lock of her sweet-smelling hair drifting down to my face and the rough carpet almost having the texture of hay, I can almost imagine I am home.

But I will never have home. And almost is not enough.

~~~

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Sheen inquires, after we’re safely within the forest, with no chance of prying ears.

“Sheen, I know this might seem sudden, but you have no idea what I’ve been through. I left the barn yesterday because I got attacked-I made it out alright, but I still have no idea what those boys would have done to me if I hadn’t been able to get out of their grips. So, Sheen, you are the only person who cares about me. And don’t tell me your parents do too. They don’t. And don’t you dare tell me I’m wrong.”

She opened her mouth as if about to say something, just as I wondered if I had been too harsh. It wasn’t her fault, after all. It would never be her fault. She uncertainly closes her mouth and makes a tiny nod.

“I am going to run away. I will leave without you, so don’t think saying no is going to ‘save’ me or anything, but I want you to come with me, Sheen. Will you come with me?”

“You’re my only friend, Shadow.”

The comment hits me like nothing else has. Sheen, Sheen, and I’m her only friend? It makes no sense. She is a supermodel. I am nothing.

“I wish my parents could come, but… I understand. Sometimes, only sometimes, I want to escape too.”

Then she holds out her hand and waits. For a moment, I stare at it, astonished that she agreed. She chose me over her starbound life. Then I realize she wants to shake on it, and I grip her hand, almost collapsing of relief. I will not be alone. Even though I will always feel like it, I will not be alone.

~~~

7 Years Later

I watch the muscles on my arm clench, unclench, clench, unclench, as I stroll into Orkelia. I stare at the wall of the old orphanage in front of me, and feeling the need to get out some anger, punch straight through it. Though not much of an accomplishment, given the state it’s in, I still feel a bit of pride as Sheen walks up behind me and stares incredulously, and says,

“Sometimes I’m scared of you, you know that, Shadow?” I chuckle at her remark. Her lower lip twitches a little and I realize she was only half-joking. I brush my finger over her cheekbone, and lean down to kiss her softly. I am afraid she will pull away, but she seems to be in a lighter mood when I come back to meet her gaze.

It has been a couple years since we realized we were in love, and became boyfriend and girlfriend. As tempting as it seems, I didn’t come here to show off both her and my newfound strength to the old boys. At least, not the whole time.

I came here to retrieve something. As I pass through the empty barn door, apparently broken down by something or someone, I climb up the still-standing ladder, grab the blanket, and stuff it in my backpack before Sheen sees that I still hold on to such an emotional part of me. I try not to let it show, but sometimes, only before her, it sneaks out again.

When I look outside, I see someone with a familiar face- the old gang leader. I see a look of horror in his eyes. As I lean down again to make him realize that Sheen is mine now, Sheen looking from me to him dubiously because of it, I feel a surge of glee through my frozen heart. These people hurt me. And these people will pay.