#tr31

Even though we will not be exhibiting at the 2023 SEMA Show in Las Vegas, the Forgeline engineering team has worked VERY hard, over the past few months, to complete several brand new wheel designs. Six new designs have now been released, just in time for the 2023 SEMA Show. We’re excited to present the brand new VV1R, GB3C, TR31, SL3, Rallye, and Galaxie! Learn more at: https://forgeline.com/latest-news/forgeline-debuts-6-new-wheels-prior-to-the-2023-sema-show.html

Also so called it with Asuka and Yuriko having been Tennis partners and that Yuriko quit Tennis Club for Presidency...? Unless I understood something wrong, it seems that way. Kinda like how it was the teacher who spilled the news, Minori knew but respected Asuka in not telling. Minori, you're great.

“No.” Isolde snorted, returning to tidying Alanna’s room.

“Izzy-”

“Only my friends call me Izzy.” Isolde said pointedly.

“I am your friend!” Liam protested. “Look – I just – I really think I’ve messed up this time. It’ll just be the one time, I promise!”

“Right.” Isolde nodded, turning to face him with her hands on her hips. She looked pretty today, but tired, like she hadn’t slept – which she hadn’t. Her hair was sloppily pulled back into a ponytail that was coming apart, she looked flushed and her bottom lip was swollen from having chewed on it all night. She’d been avoiding Niall since the, um, incident. But that hadn’t stopped Niall from watching her sleep all night under the pretence of watching Alanna – or rather, watching Isolde pretend to sleep. “I’ll just go the one time, get to know the girl, feel bad for visiting her once and then go back and ta-da! I’m right in the middle of your sordid little plan.”

“There isn’t anything sordid about it, Isolde, really.” Liam whined, beginning to sound a lot like a petulant child. Isolde mentally reminded herself to jump out of a window, should Alanna or any other unexpected additions to the family be like that. “There’s just – she’s got this pull-”

“Stop!” Isolde yelled, holding up a hand. Instantly, Liam shut up. Isolde felt proud – all of those parenting books she’d been reading clearly worked. “Listen, I don’t take bullshit, okay? And the fact of the matter is – the girl is right! You’ve helped her get into rehab for sex, Liam. Whether it’s rough sex, or random sex, or friendly sex, or even loving sex – that’s what you want from her. And I am not getting involved in that.”

“It’s more than that!” Liam groaned.

“Oh, really?” Isolde demanded, folding her hands over her chest. She heard a small cry and Niall’s instant sounds of soothing, making her fidget. Did he have to be so... AroundAlanna all of the time? So ready to help her, be there for her, so loving! It was driving her mad. She was trying to hate him! “Well, then tell me. Tell me all about how it’s more than that.”

For a moment, Liam faltered. For all of his talk about his genuine and honestly rather strange attraction to Kara, he hadn’t actually expected anyone to... Question him on it.

“Well,” Liam began, before hesitating. Isolde shook her head, expectant. “I guess... I think...”

“No, you don’t.” Isolde muttered, rolling her eyes and going to turn away – before something Liam said stopped her.

“She doesn’t love me for who I am – she doesn’t like me because of who I’m not.” Liam said quietly, making Isolde stop. Liam shrugged to himself, feeling strangely self-conscious. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a girl that I’ve cared for that didn’t know I was a bit... Special. And she knows and couldn’t care less. That’s important to me.”

Isolde watched Liam carefully for a moment. She quite liked Liam, in her own way – he adored Alanna and respected Isolde’s boundaries when it came to Niall and her private space. She’d just wanted to keep a distance because ultimately, she was never going to be in his life. She wasn’t going to be a presence in Niall’s forever.

Or, that was what she kept telling herself.

“How do you know she’s not playing you?” Isolde finally asked.

Liam smiled brightly.

“That’s the best part.” Liam told her sincerely. “I know, because despite the fact she’s had some... Uncomfortable jobs – the thought of doing anything with me mildly repulses her.”

Well, Isolde thought to herself. She couldn’t really argue with that.

“Fine, I’ll go.” Isolde said begrudgingly, Liam instantly laughing happily. “On one condition! No talking about Niall?”

“Just Niall, or the fact he kissed you?” Liam asked cheekily.

“I hate you.” Isolde said loudly, her cheeks pooling pink. “I hate you! Screw your stupid favour!”

“No, wait, Izzy, I’m sorry!”

  “So, how was it last night?” Lucky asked, snapping Soph out of her reverie. She’d been watching her father, Kabir Zafar and Aman’s uncle all laughing with one another on the other side of the garden, as if they were lifelong friends. It hadn’t been disturbing as much as it had been disarming. “Did Zayn apologize?”

“Sorry, what?” Soph shook her head slightly, forcing herself back to reality. Her and Lucky had decided to eat breakfast together this morning, on the other side of the garden. Bee had sleepily joined them ten minutes ago and seemed incapable of speech, though tilted her head slightly at Lucky’s question. “Uh, no, not quite. It was weird.” Quickly distracting, she asked innocently – “Why? Have you apologized to Jai?”

“That’s different.” Lucky said stiffly, pouring herself some freshly-pressed watermelon juice. “He shouldn’t have left you-”

“He didn’t.” Soph interrupted firmly. “And he wasn’t there to be a lowlife, Lucky. Trust me, I was there.”

“You seem... Better than before.” Bee murmured quietly, rubbing her eyes in a childlike fashion as she sat up a little straighter. Lucky glanced at her, almost warningly – they didn’t want to push the boat! – but Soph’s expression seemed to be only of the resigned nature. She’d been... Expecting this. “You don’t have to fake it with us, you know.”

“I know.” Soph nodded. “And... I am better. I mean, thinking about what I’ve done-” Soph shuddered slightly, remembering her nightmares from the night before. “- it’s not pleasant, but... I mean, I’ve been sticking my head in the sand for this long, right?” Soph shook her head slightly. “I can’t live like that forever. And if that guy had...” She swallowed. “Well, things would be even worse, right? And I’d been sitting here, wondering what would have happened if I’d defended myself.”

“You weren’t wrong.” Lucky said gently, covering Soph’s hand with her own. “Honestly, if that happened to me... I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to defend myself.”

Soph smiled a small smile, one letting Lucky know of her thanks. She knew Lucky didn’t mean physical strength.

“I just...” Soph sighed gustily. “There’s this person I want to be and there’s this person I used to be, and getting married changed both. And if I want to change that, I have to start acting like it.”

“Well, I think you’re super for doing it.” Bee nodded, gulping down half a cup of tea. Instantly, her eyes glittered slightly with newfound energy. “So... Tell us! What didhappen between you and Zayn last night? Everything was awfully quiet.”

“Not everyone is as loud as you and Tiff.” Lucky teased, making Bee blush a light pink. “Did you talk?”

“I don’t really know.” Soph replied honestly. “All he’d said was that he’d... Miscalculated a few things and needed some time to think. Then he offered to sleep on the floor and let me have the bed. It was... Weird.”

“Did you let him sleep on the floor?” Bee pushed, eyes wide.

“No.” Soph shook her head at the thought. “I figured, he was trying, so... I should try, too.”

“He hasn’t tried anywhere near enough.” Lucky muttered bitterly, this time being on the receiving end of a disdainful glance. She shrugged at Bee’s indignant expression. “What? It’s true. Soph, you don’t owe him anything! He’s barely tried at all and you’re already accepting his half-assed apologies? He deserves to suffer more than that.”

“But he’s my husband, isn’t he?” Soph sighed, slumping back in her chair and watching her father almost spill tea down himself, he was laughing so hard. “What else can I do?”

Lucky opened her mouth for a moment and the answer to Soph’s question hung uncomfortably in the air. But then she closed her mouth and Soph could pretend that the three girls hadn’t all been thinking the same thing – that she should leave Zayn.

“It’s good, though.” Bee finally said, sipping more demurely at her tea this time. “I mean, people give up on love and marriages so quickly, right? Fighting through the hard stuff is what makes it special.”

“Yeah.” Soph said, forcing a smile. She stared intently at the table, at the plate full of food Lucky had set in front of her. “Yeah, that’s what it is. Special.”

  Zayn stormed into his and Soph’s bedroom, shame tingeing his cheeks red. He’d stepped out of his and Soph’s bedroom to pick up the laundry one of the maids had left outside their door, only to briefly see Tiff – who, upon seeing Zayn in a towel and nothing else – had simply raised his eyebrows at the forming bruises all over his chest, before walking away as if nothing were wrong.

He was scared. Yes, Zayn Malik was scared. He felt trapped – he’d had to swallow his anger and betrayal when Soph had come into their room yesterday, he’d had to act like he was her friend.

Zayn had thought he’d been scared of losing Soph before – hence all of these mind-games, in a desperate bid to keep her interested in their relationship, in him. But when Iftikhar Khan had left last night, Zayn had finally learnt what real fear felt like.

And what he thought he’d been feeling at the prospect of losing Soph?

That wasn’t it.

Zayn wasn’t sure what he felt anymore – whether it was overwhelming rage and disappointment that Dianna had been right and Soph was everything Zayn didn’t want her to be, or ease at the fact clearly, Soph was just as bad as he was. After all, she was the one who had killed someone in cold blood and then gotten her father to have him beaten.

Suddenly, Zayn was overtaken with such a deep, intense rage, that all he could imagine was Soph’s soft skin underneath him as he let out all of his anger – one way or the other.

Did she even know how much she demeaned him? Did she know how many hours he’d spent, after they’d married, watching her sleep and imagining the different ways she’d leave him?

Although Zayn was yet to understand it, this was because he, deep down, had always known he wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t just a sneaking suspicion; it wasn’t just personal insecurities, deep-rooted from his childhood; it was fact.

He’d known it from the first time they’d spoken – the way she’d shot down his accusations of her being Harry’s whore with disgust at even having to talk to her. He’d known it from the way the boys idolized her, despite having women constantly throwing themselves at their feet; he’d known it from the way Soph had held her ground at Mo and Shazia’s anniversary party; he’d even known when she’d stared at him in incredulity, when he’d fallen to his knees in a shop, demanding her to tell him she loved him, even if it was fake – just so he could pretend it was real and he worthy.

The same side of Zayn that hadn’t cared, that had trusted Soph – the one that had slowly been pushed further and further back into the recesses of Zayn’s brain after their wedding – pushed all of these thoughts as hard as it could to the forefront of Zayn’s mind, only to be aggressively pushed back. It would hit him like waves – slow tidbits of realization that made his skin crawl, upon realizing the effect his own misguided actions had caused.

Which was why Zayn ignored it. It was too much pain for him to handle. Too many... Mistakes. No, it wasn’t possible for it to just be him – it took two people in a marriage. And that was the vow that now dominated Zayn’s life, above any other he’d made.

Zayn wished he could hurt Soph the way she had him. And that had been something he’d wished for, before the maliciousness felt upon being “roughed up” – something he had done in his youth to others -, it was just so Soph would... Understand.

She hadn’t felt what he had. She never had, not once. The pain he’d felt, waking up in her office that one time, before he’d been stabbed, before their wedding – only to find she’d walked right past him and gone home. It was raw and rather than time healing him, it just made him more bitter and resentful. Soph had never shown any inclination to regretting her actions, before they’d gotten together or afterwards – and honestly, Zayn wasn’t even sure she felt pain anymore.

It was just as Zayn was bitterly recalling these thoughts, that the sound of something buzzing on the wooden dresser beside him caught his attention.

It was Soph’s phone – with Rose’s face flashing across the screen.

Zayn wasn’t sure if Soph felt pain. Honestly, it was a childish sort of wonder – and, with that childish nature in mind, seeing Rose calling Soph was like leaving a child in a sweet shop.

  “Kara, you have a visitor.”

“I don’t want to see anyone.” Kara sighed, tiredly rubbing her eyes with the sleeves of her cardigan. “Especially Liam. He’s a persistent motherfucker, isn’t he?”

The nurse said nothing, simply pursing her lips in neutrality and nodding towards the door.

With a sigh, Kara forced herself up from where she’d snuggled up in her armchair and began to walk down the corridor.

Honestly, Kara didn’t understand Liam’s infatuation with her.

Kara Drake had lived a charmed life, up until the age of fifteen. Her father had died just a year before her constantly social-climbing mother decided to marry again, to a man whose riches had come from doing questionable things to ignored people throughout his lifetime. Kara’s younger sisters, Louisa and Marianna, had been blind to his ways – they were young and adaptable, unlike their cynical big sister, who had been Daddy’s little girl up until his death.

Long story short, Kara’s attempts to open her mother’s eyes up to her step-father’s flaws had fallen short. In the end, Kara had come to the horrible realization that her mother didn’t care what her new partner did, so long as he kept doing it and buying her new cars – just as she realized her mother hadn’t given a rat’s ass to her previous husband’s death, due to the fact they’d began facing difficulty anyway.

Kara’s father had been a nice man, a kind man – the sort who was too nice for someone as vain and brattish as Kara’s mother. In his death, Kara’s mother had been released – she could live out her dream of being a trophy housewife and acting as if she were Hollywood’s lost gem, as opposed to the selfish, narcisstic bitch she was. Kara had tried as hard as she could to stick it out, for her little sisters’ sake – but when little Lou and Anna had become old enough to be shipped out to boarding school, Kara had been given no choice but to accept her mother’s ways or fly the coop.

She’d chosen the latter.

The rest was history. The unfortunate part was that Kara’s drug addiction had been a complete accident – a bad side-effect to abusive boyfriends looking to take advantage and Kara’s naivety allowing her to place her trust in the misguided and unworthy.

All things considered, Kara thought to herself as she followed her nurse through a set of code-locked doors, she hadn’t turned out too bad. Kara had a strict reputation for not taking shit from her customers, but she’d certainly paid her dues enough to be given status at the top. She was the same she’d always been – cool. Literally. The cool kid, unruffled by life, coasting through by whatever means available.

She didn’t steal and she didn’t lie. She worked in a HMV during her days off, and served the evening shift at Garfunkel’s in Holborn on weekends, if she was sober enough – which she tried to be. Louisa and Marianne were old enough to stay secretly in contact with Kara now and she never exposed them to the dark, dirty world she now belonged to.

Her mother still deposited money into her old bank account – the one Kara hadn’t been able to close, for sentimental reasons: her father had opened that account with her -, in the hope Kara would finally sell herself out for it... But to date, Kara never had.

It was ironic that she sold her body for other things instead.

It wasn’t just the heroin Kara was addicted to, though – it was the other things, too, the pills and caffeine that she relied on for a weak fix to see her through the jobs that didn’t require her to wear suspenders and nothing else. In a strange way, it was the constant coffee and cocktail of over-the-counter tablets that made Kara more disappointed in herself than anything else; when Kara had first stumbled into the, ahem, evening business, she’d been faced with a lot worse. Abusive customers. Being subjugated to... Terrible things, hearing terrible things, having to live in places that wouldn’t have been worthy as a laundry cupboard in the five bedroom home she’d grown up in.

But Liam didn’t know any of that. If anything, Liam only knew the sleaze – the girl who had given him half of a handjob in an alleyway, as she attempted for the sixth time this month to escape her pimp. Her agency had recently come under new management – neither Kara nor any of the other girls questioned such things, the details of such affairs were often grim in their business -, and Kara’s new boss was anything but unfriendly. In fact, he’d taken different tactics to Kara’s previous boss – rather than offering drugs as party favours, dangling a carrot, this new boss just shoved them all in the ass with a stick. More often than not, literally.

Kara had refused to take such nonsense. She was at the top of her game – she was playing big league. And whilst that had given her limited protection from her new owner... How did the saying go? The higher you climb, the higher you fall.

Liam, Kara knew, had set up the raid that had gotten her – and the aforementioned ass-shover – arrested, alongside half of the new recruits and several high-class clients. It was all over the papers. Of course, nobody knew the member of a boyband was behind it all.

It just didn’t make sense. She’d messed with him as a way to hide, she’d brushed off his every advance, she’d made it clear that she still had a twisted set of values, despite being a hooker (no matter how high class). Yet he still came to visit her; he still sponsored her rehab visits and lawyer’s fees; and he still stared at her with a look that, were Kara not so cynical of such things after her father’s death, she would call awe.

Kara was wondering what it was she was missing about Liam’s ulterior motives, when she realized it wasn’t Liam waiting for her in the visitor’s lounge.

“He made me do it.” A blonde-haired, blue-eyed Irish beauty told her with an irritated sigh. Kara glanced over to the nurse, unsure of herself – only to find the nurse had already left, leaving Kara and the stranger alone. “But if somebody’s going to give Liam a character reference, honestly, you’re lucky it’s me – I’m currently the only crazily honest bitch this band has got left.” The visitor thought for a moment. “The other one’s on vacation.”

Kara stood there, completely unsettled. She hadn’t been expecting... This. She’d had a crazy few days – heroin withdrawal would do that to you – but she liked to think of herself as fearless. Determined. Her addiction had hurt, but she was determined to fight through it.

Yet this petite, pretty girl in front of her struck the fear of God right into Kara’s chest. And she was an atheist.

“Should I sit down?” Kara asked slowly, eyeing the chair the girl was sitting on. There was more than enough space for two.

“Only if I’m not going to catch something.” The girl said bluntly. She patted the slightly protruding stomach of hers, one that didn’t quite fit the rest of her frame. “I’ve got my little girl to think of.”

  “There you are.” Soph said quietly, seeing Zayn sitting on the edge of the bed thoughtfully. “My Dad just left. He said you’d already said goodbye.”

“Where did he go?”

Zayn asked her so casually, in such a friendly tone, that Soph was momentarily thrown. It felt so... Normal. Like nothing bad had ever happened before them, like they were a couple again.

“Across the border.” Soph rolled her eyes and sat beside him and, although she maintained a respectable distance between them, for a moment she wondered if anything bad had ever happened between them at all. “He’s got too many Pakistani stamps on his passport and his journey was really sudden. Plus, he may as well get actual work done while he’s close by. I said I’d see him when I went home.”

The word home hung uncomfortably over Soph’s head, as did the “I”. But, rather than comment on it or make some sort of gesture of disapproval, Zayn simply nodded.

It was beginning to frighten Soph slightly.

“I was just on the phone.” Zayn finally said, after a few moments of what felt to Soph like awkward silence. “You know, getting back to the real world.”

“Oh.” Soph settled on saying.

“Rose called.” Zayn continued, nodding towards where Soph’s phone was on the dresser. “She probably wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’ll... Call her in a little while.” Soph muttered, staring at the floor. Rose. Soph knew she owed Rose an explanation – after all, they’d only spoken briefly after Aman’s fight. But the thought of telling Rose everything that had happened in the past few days felt... Unnatural somehow. It were as if, by telling Rose, Soph was contaminating the entire city of London – a city she’d always called home.

No. No, she needed the two separate. The two realities of London versus Lucknow, the two different versions of Soph – they had to be kept apart, for Soph’s sanity. She felt as if she were floating on a cloud, some sort of strange transitional limbo, where the two different versions of herself had not yet merged – but knew they needed to.

And that felt too volatile to be dealt with right now.

“I thought you’d be too tired to talk to her, or whatever.” Zayn nodded. “So that’s why I sorted it for you.”

“How do you mean?” Soph glanced up this time, something dark curling at the pit of her stomach. And no – it wasn’t lust.

“I spoke to her for you.” Zayn told Soph calmly, turning to face her – and in that moment, Soph’s entire world stopped. “You know. Caught her up to speed on what her best friend has been doing these past few days.” Zayn smiled at his wife serenely, as Soph took a shaky breath, the room beginning to spin. Oh, no. Oh, no. Zayn cocked his head to the side innocently. “I just thought I’d help.”

Soph didn’t say anything for a few minutes. She couldn’t. She’d forgotten how to speak, how to think.

She should have known. She should have known the moment she’d walked in and found him waiting for her so calmly, that something was wrong. But she’d wanted it to be real – she’d wanted everything to be magically fixed.

Not to pretend nothing ever happened, of course not – but for just a few seconds, feel like she wasn’t alone. That she had people she was meant to be with, there for her, the way it was supposed to be.

“You are the worst type of person I’ve ever met.” Soph finally whispered, staring at Zayn with what felt like angry tears. Swearing, shouting, screaming – to Soph, it felt as if there wasn’t a word in the entire Universe that could successfully describe the pure hatred Soph felt for Zayn in that moment.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” Zayn asked neutrally.

Soph simply shook her head, trying to control herself. Very quickly, the shock was wearing off – and going by the stutter of her heart as it began to beat more and more erratically, a terrifying wave of rage was about to come next.

She wasn’t going to ask Zayn – she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Come on, babe.” Soph sucked in a large breath as Zayn continued to taunt her. “I was only trying to help fix things, like you have.”

Soph’s fists clenched so hard that her knuckles turned white, squeezing her eyes shut. She was going to block him out. She had to – if she didn’t, she was going to lose it.

Soph had seen Tiff briefly, just as she’d been going inside and he’d been heading out to meet Bee. She knew exactly why Zayn was acting this way – but he didn’t know that. Zayn wanted to brag.

Another surge of resentment hit Soph so hard, it almost knocked the breath out of her. It had taken one sentence – one sentence!- for Tiff to let Soph know what was going on behind her back, thanks to their understanding. They’d been friends for years. Hell, Soph had known Jai for barely a few weeks and they had that understanding!

Yet she didn’t have even a smidgen of that with her own husband; the person who supposedly loved her, the one who had insisted they married in the first place, the one who treated her more like a piece of meat than he did his own dinner.

Your Dad’s boys did a number on him.

That was all Tiff had muttered under his breath, as Soph walked the other way. Neither one of them had stopped: nor had they given any inkling that they’d done anything other than walk past one another. Because they understood one another.

Soph and Zayn didn’t understand one another.

They never had.

“I hate you.” Soph suddenly snarled with such venom that it immediately penetrated Zayn’s cool demeanour. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion: his mouth set in a grim line, as he watched her with resentment. “Do you get that, you sick, twisted little bastard? I hate you.”

Zayn seemed to think for a moment, before nodding.

“Okay.” He muttered, first to himself, then again to Soph. “Yeah, okay. Let it all out. If pretending it’s all my point helps you get over yourself, Soph, I’m all for it. But hurry up, yeah?”

Zayn was deliberately antagonizing her, yes – but he was also being entirely serious. He thought that Soph pretending to blame him... Was actually what she was doing.

Soph’s vision darkened.

When Adam had been six years old, the mother of another child complained about Adam’s behaviour when Soph had picked him up from school. She said that Adam had told her son he hated him – and although the woman tried hard to be friends with Soph and her mother, in that moment, Soph knew she was a little prat.

As it turned out, Adam hadn’t said “I hate you” – the other little boy, who had been irritating Adam for weeks, asked if Adam hated him when Adam had been forced to resort to pointedly ignoring the little boy whenever he deliberately went Adam’s way. Adam had simply stared at him with a dull expression on his face, glaring holes into his head.

That was one of the few times Soph had felt absolute fury. When she saw the mother the next day and told her what had really happened, including finding the other little boy and warning him to stop annoying Adam – under the pretence of telling Adam off, of course – and had made them shake hands.

The other little boy had hugged Adam. Adam had looked repulsed.

The mother had then quickly disappeared, upon realizing she and her son had been caught out for trying to get Adam in trouble. It was no secret Adam’s mother was strict – had she found out before Soph, Adam would have been lost all Xbox and TV privileges for the next month.

Soph’s blood had boiled when the mother had tried to scamper away, when Soph had demanded both boys shake hands and apologize to one another. Every time she saw her in the playground after that, her eyes would narrow and her grip on Adam’s arm would tighten. In the end, it was Adam who had to calm his sister down – and Adam no longer took notice of the little boy, who still went out of his way to shake his backside in Adam’s face whenever he walked past him in class, knowing his sister would lose all patience and kill someone if she found out.

In a weird way, Adam had found it amusing. To this day, it was still one of Adam’s fondest memories – the look of utter hatred on Soph’s face, whenever the very same mother would sickeningly say hello every day.

Today, that fury was back – only this time, there was no Adam to hold her hand and calm her down. There was no innocent child involved, no matter how irritating. There wasn’t the restriction of maintaining a pleasant facade because it was home.

No. In that moment, all Soph had was pure, unadulterated and vicious hatred – and the source of it all sitting right in front of her.

Soph didn’t know what she was about to do next. But she knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  Isolde placed the coffee in front of Kara, before sitting down pointedly opposite her, taking a sip of her own hot chocolate. Caffeine was bad for Alanna.

“So... You’re Liam’s friend’s ex?” Kara said slowly, picking up the Styrofoam cup carefully. “Who’s just had Liam’s friend’s baby?”

“We were together, I got pregnant, we broke up, I found out I was pregnant, he decided we were pregnant.” Isolde shrugged. “And they’re not just friends – Liam and Niall are bandmates.”

“And judging by your accent, he’s – your  one – is the blonde, Irish kid?” Kara continued, glancing down at the small magazine poster of 1D Isolde had left on the table.

Isolde bristled.

“What, just because we both have accents?” Isolde demanded, Kara instantly opening her mouth to correct her. “No. It’s okay.” Isolde said quickly, sighing. “I got what you meant. I just wanted to see what you’d do if I blew up at you.”

This time, it was Kara who bristled. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she sat straighter, from where she’d previously been slumped.

“Just because I’m a hooker, doesn’t mean I don’t have self-respect.” Kara told Isolde seriously. “So don’t think that I’m a meek little baby, or that I’m some crazy coke-head. I’m here because I want to be.”

“You’re here because you don’t have a choice.” Isolde snorted.

“I’m here,” Kara said slowly and deliberately, leaning over the table. “Because I want to be.”

“Liam cares for you. It’s not just sex with him. He’s not another customer.” Isolde told her, unfazed by Kara’s show of personality. “He’s also someone close to my little girl and my little girl’s father. And he’s been through a Hell of a lot, so if you’re messing with him – stop it.”

“I told him I don’t want a relationship.” Kara managed to say through gritted teeth. “I’ve laid down the ground rules, it’s not my fault if he’s breaking them by bringing you here, when he’s on the outside and I’m not.”

“I thought you wanted to be here?” Isolde said quickly.

Kara took a sip of coffee, rolling her eyes.

“I do.” Kara finally said, licking her lips. “But I’m not saying being in a treatment centre doesn’t have its limitations.”

The two of them watched one another for a moment – warm blue eyes staring into cool brown ones.

“I’m going to come back sometime later this week.” Isolde finally said, getting to her feet. Kara looked up at her in confusion – only furthered by how Isolde seemed to be hiding a small smirk. “And not because Liam tells me.”

Isolde then left without another word.

Liam was waiting by the car when she exited the building.

“Well?” Liam pounced instantly, jogging up to greet her. “How was it? What did she say? Is everything okay, is she missing me?”

Isolde said nothing, waiting until they were both in the car. She waited for Liam’s babbling to give way to frustrated silence.

“I like her.” Isolde finally shrugged, making Liam almost crash the car with delight. “I do. I like her... But damn, she’s going to be a handful.”

  “You’re a shitty person!” Soph was yelling loudly, bashing at Zayn’s chest with every word. “You’re a shitty, shitty, shitty person and I hate, hate, hate you!”

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” Zayn shouted, attempting to push Soph away. Instead, she yanked herself back – she’d rather he didn’t touch her, not ever, everagain and certainly not now – and grabbed one of the bags in the corner, flinging its contents onto the bed and haphazardly rifling through the drawers. “Soph, what are you doing? Stop acting fucking crazy!”

“Oh, babe, this isn’t even half of the level of crazy I’m feeling right now.” Soph seethed, shoving the drawers closed angrily. “I am getting the Hell away from you, that’s what I’m doing. I’m spending this evening with Lucky and then I’m going to get a ride with her back to Mumbai and then I am going to get as far away from you as I possibly can!”

“Soph, stop being stupid-” Zayn snapped, pulling on her arm as she began to throw bunches of his socks and underwear out of one of the drawers, digging around for the sports bra Zayn tried to keep hidden for her. Apparently, it’s wasn’t as much of a “turn-on”, compared to lacy nothings that had no purpose. Well, now Soph didn’t have to care!

“Touch me one more time and you won’t have hands, and it won’t be my Dad calling the shots either!” Soph shouted in Zayn’s face, yanking back her arm as Zayn’s expression became incensed. “This was all a mistake, since when did I let anyone tell me how to-” Soph stopped and, because her silence was so sudden, so did Zayn.

Only Zayn took a little longer to realize – and so saw pick up the small, plastic bag full of smaller bags of pills and powders and went to react a second after she headed for the bathroom.

“Soph, wait, let me ex – Soph!” Zayn yelled, twisting his arm around Soph’s waist as she automatically went to throw the bag into the toilet, too stunned to do anything other than let auto-pilot take over. “Soph!” Zayn shouted again, his voice muffled as Soph screamed, fighting against him.

Zayn continued to try and pull her back, her legs flailing in the air, as the bag fell on the seat.

“You piece of shit!” Soph yelled, pushing her legs out as far as she could and watching with satisfaction as the bag dropped inside the cistern.

“You’re fucking mad!” Zayn managed to say, grabbing a fistful of her hair as he pulled on her shoulder, ignoring Soph’s yelp of pain. “What are you doing? Do you have any idea how much that’s worth?”

That one concept – the concept of Zayn looking at a bag filled with death economically – cut through Soph’s pain, physical and mental, and her shock at finding the bag in Zayn’s drawer.

It all made sense now. It all made so much more sense.

As Soph kicked and thrashed against Zayn, who held her, the past few months flashed before Soph’s eyes. The niggling doubts that she had been in the wrong, that she was somehow defected, that she was washing everything she’d been scared of having and then been glad to have down the toilet – all wrong.

And then it hit her like a punch to the gut – her conversation with Jai only one day before. A conversation when Soph had refused to believe it was drugs – yet she’d wished it were.

Except, when Zayn had seen she’d found the bag, he hadn’t seemed like a drug addict – he’d mentioned money.

Zayn, Soph knew, was not short on money.

Soph’s mind reeled, millions of thoughts and memories flashing through her head by the second.

He may not be on something regularly, but he was using.

And what he wasn’t, Soph had a horrible feeling he was giving away – and not for free.

She wanted to hurt him.

And because, for the second time that afternoon, Soph felt that words could truly not do her hatred justice, she did the one thing that would express exactly what she was feeling to someone she considered as scummy as her husband – she stretched her leg as far out as she could, despite Zayn shouting and pulling her away, and kicked the flush as hard as she could.

There was a moment of silence as, with Zayn’s hand still tangled in Soph’s hair on her shoulder, as they both froze. The bag disappeared with a wave of water and they were so still, it was debatable whether they were even still breathing; Soph’s legs mid-air, Zayn’s arm wound around her, their chests unmoving.

Then all Hell broke loose.

  When Aman stepped out of the car, his grandfather and uncle nodding that they’d catch him up later, Jai was instantly by his side.

“Should you be doing that?” Jai nodded towards where Aman was pulling off the brace that was supporting his arm, offering him a glass bottle of Coke.

“Probably not.” Aman grunted, throwing the stupid brace somewhere aimlessly. He hated the damn thing. “What do you want?”

“What, a friend can’t just hang out?” Jai gasped loudly, holding his chest. “I’m hurt, bro!”

“You talk such crap.” Aman muttered, shaking his head. They both sat on the marble steps leading onto the house’s front porch, their elbows propped on the stair behind them.

It was a lazy, warm afternoon in Lucknow – the busy sounds of the city could be heard in the distance, the harsh sun making it almost impossible to do anything other than sit and swelter in the heat. The smell of water and fresh flowers was a very different type of smell Aman had grown up with as a child: and although he didn’t regret his upbringing, this was a nice change.

It was the kind of afternoon, the kind of setting that demanded romance – stolen kisses and sweet nothings, entwined fingers and brushing bodies.

Aman and Jai, however, were completely unaware of this.

“How was her father on the way to the airport?” Jai asked suddenly, after a few moments of enjoyed, casual silence. “Did you get the third degree, or what?”

“No.” Aman shrugged. “He was talking to Grandfather, we didn’t really say much.”

Jai nodded, taking a sip of his Coke. He watched as Aman pulled the larger bandage over his cut aside, to see the small gauze pressed to his arm instead – where Soph had accidentally stabbed him.

If Jai had blinked, he would have missed it – but after years’ worth of friendship, Jai knew when not to blink. As a result, he saw the small smirk and shake of Aman’s head as he checked the bandage.

“So, when did you realize you were in love with a married woman?” Jai asked conversationally.

Aman choked on his drink.

“Did Raj hit you too hard on the head with his truck this morning?” Aman spluttered in disbelief. “Has your brain finally packed in after so many years of stupidity?”

“It was a simple question.” Jai shrugged, sitting up, his forearms resting on his knees. “You’re the one avoiding it.”

Aman stared at his best friend with incredulity. Wow, he was dense.

“Because it’s stupid.” Aman said slowly and clearly, in English.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“You’re an idiot.” Aman repeated. “You’re an idiot. How idiotic are you for even asking me that? Have you not heard of my three rules?”

“You mean the bullshit you started telling everyone when you found me with my son’s mother?” Jai snorted, refusing to call Zara his wife. Aman raised his eyebrows. “You don’t flirt, you don’t go for married women and you don’t fall in love. But since when did you become master of the universe?”

“I’m master of my own universe.” Aman grinned. “Having money has that effect.”

“Shut up, you bloody street urchin.” Jai muttered in disgust, nudging his best friend, who was chuckling to himself. “Having money, you’re a right prat sometimes. Master of your own universe. You’re not even master of your own fists, your game was off when I saved your ass the other day.”

“Hey.” Aman said sharply, refusing to have his ego wounded – and strangely grateful of the change of topic. “Talk shit get hit.”

Jai laughed evilly.

“What, with you being so messed up from the fight?” He grinned. “Go on. Try. Put yourself on bed rest for a few more weeks and stay here with your Dad, I dare you.”

Jai was allowed one second of glee, before Aman, with a completely serious expression, bitch slapped him.

Jai sat there, stunned, for a few seconds.

“You ass.” He muttered, this time as Aman laughed evilly. “Just because you want to move away from the topic! You know you can’t fool me, right? I know you too well?”

“You’ve been missing for how many years?” Aman asked incredulously, still ignoring the question entirely. He wasn’t having this conversation with Jai. Nope, it was just too pointless and, therefore, not worth Aman’s time. Much like affection, actually.

“I’m being serious.” Jai sighed, slapping Aman upside the head to gain his attention. The two scuffled for a few moments – more just slapping each other repeatedly wherever they could reach, forgetting they were now grown men -, before Jai finally put his hands up in surrender. “I mean it. I can see it. And I’m pretty sure Grandfather can, too.”

Aman turned to Jai in shock.

“Don’t talk rubbish.” He said quickly, recovering – but the moment had passed. Jai had seen the horror on Aman’s face.

“You can lie to yourself all you want.” Jai murmured in a low, quiet hum – the type reserved solely for moments like this: when Jai had just a few seconds to try and help Aman as much as Aman had helped him, to be there for him in ways he recently hadn’t been able to. “But I know you. And so does Grandfather. Why do you think he likes her so much? Why do you think he was talking to her excuse of a husband?”

“He’s just trying to help out, he worries if something like that would happen to Busra-”

“He was probing and you know it.” Jai continued, completely ignoring the interruption. “He spent the entire afternoon playing cards with her and her father today. He helped you get rid of a body-”

“Us.” Aman corrected, his eyes blazing. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t you dare try and pretend I had anything to do with it, so you can hide your feelings behind a group effort.” Jai warned. “I mean it, Aman. I will punch you so hard in the face, your Dad’s balls will feel it.”

“That’s gross.” Aman muttered, looking at him in disgust. “What is wrong with you? And the tiny little things have probably been numbed by STDs anyway-”

“Anyway.” Jai said, closing his eyes for patience. “This girl knows almost as much as I do about your life – and I experienced it with you. An entire lifetime, she knows in a few weeks.”

“I don’t know how to love someone.” Aman said bluntly, looking out to the garden. At Jai’s unimpressed stare, he simply shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t.”

“Oh, really?” Jai’s voice was beginning to rise now, from a mixture of irritation and disbelief. “What about Bee? And Lucky? And your mother and Grandfather and-”

“That’s all different.” Aman interrupted, his own impatience beginning to show. He didn’t like conversations like this. Ones that revolved around feelings and empathy and that usually ended in self-pitying. “They’re my... They’re my family-”

“Loving someone makes them your family.” Jai said quietly. “And not because stupid society tells you to, but because it just happens.”

The two of them stared each other down for a few moments, neither one refusing to back down first. Finally, for the first time in the history of their friendship – Aman glanced away.

“You’re wrong.” Aman told him, staring angry holes into the grass. Jai said nothing. “I mean it. You’re wrong.”

And that was when they heard the giant crash of glass from inside.

At first, Aman thought it was coming from Bee’s room – but as he and Jai rushed up the stairs and saw Bee and Tiff glancing around their bedroom door with wet hair, they realized they had a much bigger problem.

  “This has nothing to do with you!” Zayn groaned in frustration, rubbing his face.

“Nothing to do with me?” Lucky seethed, barely noticing Jai enter the room – which was something she usually took a lot of notice of. “You just threw a vase at her face-”

“I wasn’t aiming at her!” Zayn yelled, ignoring Lucky’s sound of disgust.

“Yeah, it looks it!” Lucky shot back.

“Do you want to stop interfering in my marriage now?” Zayn demanded rudely. “Why don’t you find someone else, or is this why nobody else wants you? Because I get why!”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Jai growled, stepping into the room and glaring at Zayn with such a cool, calculated type of anger, that if Lucky hadn’t been so shocked at Jai coming to her defence, she would have been flattered. “Say you’re sorry right now, or I’ll break your teeth in.”

“Oh, please, get over yourself-”

Aman shook his head slightly, blocking out all of the noise. He glanced at Tiff, who now stood with a towel wrapped around his waist in the doorway – and in silent understanding, Tiff soothingly ushered Bee back into their bedroom quietly shutting the door.

Returning to Soph and Zayn’s room, where Jai and Zayn were squaring up to one another despite Lucky’s protests, Aman’s eyes scoured the room – finding what he was looking for in the corner by the window.

Soph stood there, her fingertips smudged with the fresh blood trickling from a small cut above her right eyebrow. Shattered glass lay around her and, judging by the utter mess of the room, other things had been broken too.

Aman wasn’t sure what did it. Maybe it was the conversation that had felt so intrusive, despite it being in his trusted brother’s company, that had taken place just moments before; or seeing Jai and Lucky instantly protecting one another, beginning to argue between themselves; or even the fact that Bee was frightened in the other room, but Aman was too busy dealing with another mess to comfort her – while he still could. Whilst she still believed he cared.

Or maybe it was the look of utter distraught on Soph’s face, one he recognized from New York, eons away now – and maybe, just maybe, that spurned an anger so deep inside of him and a strange sort of awakening he refused to acknowledge, that made him act the way he did.

“Everyone get out!” Aman suddenly roared, his voice easily ringing above the others. “Jai, Lucky, go into the other room.”

“Aman-” Jai began through gritted teeth, but one look instantly silenced him. “Come on.” Jai muttered to Lucky, taking her hand and pulling her away, despite her protests.

Jai went to close the door on the way out – but Aman stopped him.

“Keep it open, he’s just leaving.” Aman nodded jerkily to Zayn, his fists clenched at his sides. No physical strain, his doctor had said. No hard impact.

Clearly, his doctor hadn’t met Zayn Malik.

“Listen, you piece of-”

“I will smash your face in so hard that every album cover you’re after today will look like a puddle of baby puke, if you don’t shut up, get out and calm down before coming back.” Aman said, trying as hard as he could to keep the anger from his voice. He wasn’t doing very well. “Now, you’re my grandfather’s guest so I’m trying really hard not to hurt you, but if you continue to disrespect his hospitality I will snap your spine in half, do you get that?” Before Zayn’s reddened face could say anything, Aman added – “And it’ll be a lot worse to what happened to you last night, I assure you.”

It was only out of the corner of his eye that Aman saw Soph cover her mouth in shock. He knew. He’d known all along. How did he know that? Tiff never would have told.

Zayn stalked over to Aman, their shoulders brushing.

“This isn’t over.” Zayn vowed.

“It’s over when I say it is.” Aman replied evenly.

The two stood, staring one another down.

“Just go.” Soph finally said – and Zayn and Aman stared at her with such surprise, that she felt naked in front of them. “Zayn, just go!”

The door shut loudly behind him.

“I’m not stopping you from going after him.” Aman finally found the strength to say, unable to look Soph in the eye and focusing on the floor instead. “But-”

Except Aman magically stopped talking when a trembling Soph threw herself into his arms.

Aman stood there, shocked into place, as Soph tucked her arms underneath his and clutched at his shoulders from behind. He was dressed in Asian clothes – tapered silk trousers and a long, sea-blue tunic with the sleeved rolled up. For some reason, Soph found that... Comforting.

“I’m in deeper than I can take.” Soph whispered fearfully into his neck. “I didn’t realize until now, but I can’t do this, I can’t. I can’t.”

The conviction with which she said it left no space for argument – it was fact. For once, it wasn’t even slightly plausible that Soph could combat this.

And Aman knew enough about her character to know that she’d never, ever uttered those words before – and wouldn’t lightly.

But for once, Aman was speechless. And so, not knowing what else to do and feeling something... Uncomfortable in the centre of his chest as he did so, he hesitantly put his arms around her.

For a moment, he was awkward, unsure – but then he squeezed her close so tight, that Soph felt a breath of relief leave her lungs as her hands fisted into his shirt.

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.” Soph murmured, her voice only audible to him. She pulled away slightly, their cheeks brushing, hers feeling the slight fuzz of Aman’s growing stubble from the long day. “I’ve never said thank you before. I couldn’t have gotten this far.”

Aman pulled away slightly, his throat closing as he did – and as he went to face Soph, as he went to speak and tell her not to speak nonsense, that he’d just been returning her favour; he stopped, upon seeing the closeness of their faces.

Although Soph had long ago begun to notice the little, unique features that made up Aman’s face, Aman had never seen her up close. Not like... This.

He could see the hues of brown in her eyes, the shades of chocolate and hazel; he could see the subtle arch of her eyebrows; the fullness of her pink lips and the redness of her eyes from her crying, the salty track marks from previous tears left on what looked like achingly soft skin.

She was stunning.

Yet, Aman realized – none of that mattered.

Her mouth was so close. He could feel her warm breath against his lips and somehow, their stances had changed; one hand remained on her back, but the other was on her waist and her hands had found their way to his chest.

Soph suddenly tiptoed, their lips almost brushing, so close to brushing that Aman’s stone-cold heart seemed to splutter for air at the thought – as if his very survival depended on it.

Soph’s heart thrummed in her chest, her eyes torn between being locked on Aman’s own or his lips.

Everything about him – his arms wrapped around her, his warmth against her, the crease of his eyebrows indicating that he felt it too – it was better than a dream. It was real and Soph had never wanted anything more in her life than to stay there.

Hesitantly, both unsure, they moved forward – and just as Soph’s bottom lip brushed Aman’s top one, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine –

“Don’t.” Aman whispered, gulping down all impulse. “Don’t do this to yourself.” At Soph’s small, questioning glance – a fleeting one, as her eyes remained fixated on his lips -, Aman continued – “You’ll regret this tomorrow. Because then you’ll feel like there isn’t a difference between him and you.”

Aman’s words hit Soph in the chest like a bullet – and she instantly jerked back, Aman dropping his hands, despite Soph desperately not wanting him to.

“But you want this.” Soph murmured, before shaking her head and saying, louder this time  - “I know you do, you want this! You wanted to-” She glanced furtively at the door, before turning to Aman again, her face confused and incensed all at the same time. “You wanted to kiss me!”

Aman clenched his jaw and stared down defiantly at Soph, and said, as kindly as he could;

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Silence.

“Don’t do this to me.” Soph finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears welled up in her eyes – and Aman clenched his fists in anger at himself, in frustration, though fighting against his conscience to accept why. “Don’t do what he does to me.”

Aman took a step back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Anyway, I'm really tired so this review might not be the best you see, but- all the other chapters were about a huge dynamic with all sorts of different people coming together, but this one felt more intimate somehow. It might have been the Sam moment, but the mood of this one reminds more of balance-the sort of juggling you do between two people in whatever relationship they're in

It was good to hear from Isolde. And this series would fail the Bechedal test if it wasn't for that fantastic conversation between Kara and Isolde (or would it fail anyway since they were discussing a guy) I don't really know about Kara. I mean, I love her sass and all the bits of her personality but I'm just scared that we're going to see a sort of repetition when it comes to people-who-were-once- high-up

I guess I'd like to hear more about her life as a prostitue to see just how she ticks? I have a complicated relationship with one parent, so I guess I want something different about her and how she feels about her mum? [insert the you are writer and its your story here] I'm just interested since these last few chapters seem to open up more ends then tie them up and thats pretty scary to think about

This whole Kabir-Dad thing is so confusing! [insert Hannah's evil laugh] I mean, I still don't like her Dad and what he did. Its feels horribly miscalculated and I highly doubt that it'll help somehow, and I have a sneaking suspiscion this new found bond will make things even more awkward between all of them

And Zayn? oh, don't even get me started on Zayn. Their relationship is fully abusive now. And you know what? I don't want him in Unbroken. I don't want to hear about him. I don't want to even think about his existance. Zoph shippers are fucking crazy, and I don't understand how someone could have zero intelligence growth in thirty one chapters. Somebody take away "Douchebag of the Year" award from Justin beiber and give it to this guy

The fact that its been revealed that he's using right after Karla goes to rehab makes me want to jump out a window with dynamite sticks strapped around my neck. There also seems to be a sort of scared air around the house there? Everything feels pretty surreal. Poor Aman, he clearly doesn't know how to handle icky feelings. I sympathise.

That said, I'm not a fan of Soph confessing her undying attraction (or both of them doing it) in such a fucked up moment together. If they are going to be a thing, then I don't want it to be another reason for ostracism with them having to prove it to others-they deserve to have a realtionship where they can slowly mend themselves and become better people

Or you're just going fuck them up. Yeah, you're probably going to fuck them up. What am I even thinking? that said, I want there to be something good, maybe a little happy at the end of this. There's been too much emotional drama and it numbs my already black heart (I'd like to make it clear that its just what i want, not what i think you should write) Is it odd that I enjoyed the bromance with Bee and her tea?

Well, first of all, do you talk about Zayn's credibility in regards to how I've written him or the audience's reaction? IF I'M DOING IT WRONG TELL ME!

And dude, don't be silly, I love reading what you have to say each chapter.

Good intimate or bad intimate? I hope it's good. Either way, I'm glad you got that vibe, because it's (hopefully, if I do it right) going to become a lot more intimate leading up to the final few chapters.

It's interesting you use the word "balance", could you explain that to me?

Dude, the last time I had the page space for a scene that would pass the Bechdel test was around Ch.11? 

I'm glad you like Kara (sort of) and yes, I'm glad Isolde is back, too! In fairness to Izzy, she has her hands full with new motherhood, though I do completely understand your reservations about Kara. There's a lot about her we have to learn yet. But what do you mean about repetition?

Kara's past is going to trickle in slowly, which will be fun to write (and watch the consequent reactions). Kara's a very interesting character because she seems to deal with things very well - until she doesn't. And it's the latter which makes her such a key character later on.

Hehe, why is the opening things up stuff scary?! It's fun! Although Unbroken contains an entire new generation, people didn't believe me when I said it was different to the other stories so far/the current series lives on. Oh, the fun we're going to have in Unbroken... If you choose to stay with me, of course!

I love Kabir and Abrar Zafar and Iftikhar has a strange place in my heart, but you are so right about the evil laugh, MWHAHAAH! The connection is going to have some interesting side effects in the coming chapters. Fun fun!

HA, Zayn!

You know, there are still a lot of Zoph shippers out there? I think it's because they want Zayn to be redeemed through Soph's love. Which, you know, could happen...

HA, the strangely appropriate Justin Bieber reference! Though, it must be said, the story goes on in Unbroken. Which may or may not include Zayn... Wherever or whoever he may be.

Though, in Zayn's defense about the vase (I'm playing Devil's advocate, I'm not condoning his actions in any way!) - he wasn't aiming at her... Or so he says.

Zayn's a prat, but he's also a self-absorbed one. He hasn't given a second thought to Liam and what's going on in London - which I'll explain soon!

The Zafar house is not a great place to be right now, props for noticing. It's very dark and scary there and I think that's partly because of the outlook of the characters.

That and it's the home of an asshole, but I digress.

And - don't get me wrong, I love it - so few people are angry at Aman! Why is that?! Zayn got hate during MOD for less... It's hilarious, but why?!

I agree though. Aman + feelings = no.

As for your views on Sam... It's not over yet. As much as I'd like to believe it was solely an emotional scene, we all know there's more coming - as proven by Aman's words. I just find it interesting what you think happens next.

I honestly do believe Soph and Aman would need a built up relationship though. A slow, happy one. That said, do you think Soph will be able to afford that luxury, if she and Zayn even ended?

Of course I'm going to fuck them up, it's me we're talking about. ;)

There is some happiness at the end. A very small amount. Ha. Or is there? I LOVE MESSING!

As always, anything posted after this will be in the TR31 tag :)