rise of corruption: wealth of love excerpt

Scrubbing his nails through his unruly hair, Amon poured the container of water over his head, washing away the grim, sweat and the day off of him. Copying the act, he didn't hear the bathroom door slide open, although he did feel the new presence. "Get out Nellie, or I'll beat your ass,"

Laughing, Nellie smiled before placing some products beside him. Taking a seat on the counter, she admired the view of Amon's lush buttocks as he continued to scrub his head. "Something special happening tomorrow?" she asked, watching the back muscles tighten and flex as he washed his hair clear for the forth time,

"What does it matter?" he asked her, before heading to the tub. Sitting down, he took a cloth and begun rubbing his arms and legs in an attempted to get clean. He had no love to go to Magritte smelling like sun baked poo. It was the sole reason he decided to spent the night at Labhras, instead of trying to get home and come back. "Wait, where the hell did you come from?"

"I had to deliver a package to Labhras from Lulu." She answered simple, coming up behind him to help him scrub his back, "So whose the lucky lady?"

"Someone by the name Greet Magritte Ehrs, from the Iron town,"

"Caloton?" she asked, lightly tracing the bruises on his back, "Who would want to live there,"

"I would," Amon laughed before adding in, "If I could keep Magritte,"

"You use her second name? On the first day? What kind of loose woman is she?"

"Shut up," Amon snapped, as the bathroom down opened, as Labhras revealed some towels,

"So that's the reason you insist on staying over," he smiled, placing the towels on the counter, before resting on it as he gazed at his two friends

"Of course," Amon smiled, standing up to take the towel. Wrapping one through his hair, he headed out of the bathroom and towards Labhras' closet, leaving his closest friends alone.

"He seems happy," Nellie mentioned as she dumped out of the bath water, as Labhras opened the window to release some of the steam.

"Yes," Labhras muttered, as he watched Nellie work, "He seems like he's on Cloud Nine. I think I would like to meet this Magritte, just to see what kind of woman Amon would end up with,"

"You think he's serious?" she asked, as the two heading back to his bedroom, "Just like old time, huh?"

"He has to be. I've never seem him so…so high on a girl before."

Lying on his bed, Labhras sighed as he watched Nellie take the couch. Amon would be placed on the bed with him, as usual. He truly couldn't trust himself alone with Nellie as his love and passion for her continued to grow. As childhood friends, the three had always held hands through the trials of life; they had watched each other grow from child, to adolescents and finally into adults, and he was truly taken by the woman Nellie had become.

Coming out of the closest, dressed only in pants, Amon yawned in disinterest as he made his way to the bed, "Whatcha talking abouts?"

"How ridiculous you look obsessing over a girl," Nellie answered, watching Amon just into the bed and began wrestling with Labhras.

"You should see her," Amon smiled, before kicking Labhras literally off the bed, echoing a complaint from him. Settling back into the bed, Amon could feel his smile widen as he remembered Magritte; her lips, her eyes, her smile, her cute little eyes…mostly those lips. Unfortunately he was knocked out of his flashbacks of her when Labhras returned to the bed and landed a blow into his gut. "Hey!" he shouted, as Labhras smacked him with a pillow,

"Jackass," he muttered, before sinking until the soft covers. Labhras, even though he is the 10th son of a common merchant, he enjoyed the finer things life had to offer, as his bedroom in practical was a collection of the finest silk found on M'Gen Rai, and different artifacts from different ends of the world. Amon though it was a waste of wealth, but it added to Labhras own, refined personality. "Go to bed,"

"Why are you sleeping over there?" Amon asked Nellie, ignoring Labhras completely, before kicking him off the bed again, "AMON!"

"There's no space on the bed," Nellie answered, already comfortable in her own bed. Being friends we two attractive guys had their own perks, but Nellie didn't really want to compromise herself and being in the middle of those gents would be a mixture of heaven and hell. "Besides I like this bed,"

"But, Labhras will be lonely," Amon started, blocking when Labhras reached to smack him, "I'm leaving as soon as dawn hits,"

"Oh?" Labhras began, before smiling a sly smile, "Going to meet your lady in a secluded Inn?"

"Please," Amon laughed reaching out to grab Nellie by the leg and dragging her on the bed, only to have her kick him in the gut, "What is it with everyone hitting the gut?" he asked, before getting tackle by both Nellie and Labhras. The three continued to wrestling, starting off with Nellie and Labhras vs. Amon, but slowly turned into a free for all.

rise of corruption: how to destory a planet excerpt

However the day began, Kyrìakös still praised the mornings as it was a fresh start on the day. Regardless of the trivial matters or problems of the night before, the morning always brought a new start to the world. It was his favorite time of day, and he was hoping on making a good start…by staying in bed and watching the birds sing. And he would have, knowing him. Known by his brothers for being lazy and laid back, Kyrìakös loved to work with his hands but loved even more to take a moment or moments to enjoy and bask in the glow of the world around him. He was sentimental in that way. Unfortunately, that was not possible since Lodovico was already moving around in the house, probably preparing breakfast or cutting some wood for the fire.

This season was particularly known for its snow storms and with today being a relatively warm day in comparison; it would be a wise idea to use the weather to cut some wood for the fire. Later this evening, the Northern Stream, a lengthy and powerful storm that occurs yearly, would be passing by and Kyrìakös held no will or need to actually cut wood in a blizzard. He had once stupidly betted Lodovico when they were children that he could throw a piece of wood a certain distance, with that as a consequence; sorry to say, he had lost the bet.

Aware that he should help or somehow find a way to assist his older brother, he just didn’t want to. He wanted to sit and relax for the upcoming weeks. With his Trials coming up, he wasn’t really in the mood to do anything…but he should…and with that word alone, he knew that he would somehow will himself to get up. That and the memories of the morning before of Lodovico wake up call. This included the sibling storming into his room and pouring ice cold water down a sleeping Kyrìakös’ back. Yes, yesterday was not a good day.

Turning his feet over the edge of the bed, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Recalling months ago when he had turned that grand age of nineteen, his two hundred twenty eight season of life. Remembering the ceremony and the gather of all of his friends and family, Kyrìakös suddenly felt sadness and withdrawn. Remembering their faces and their smiles as they congratulated him, it unknowingly gave him the feeling of guilt. But why had he remembered that? Why was he feeling so guilty? And where had these questions come from? Shaking the feeling almost instantly, Kyrìakös laid back on his bed and for a moment remained that way. Watching the light from his window play on the side of his wall and ceiling, he found himself considering what was happening around him.

Rising up, Kyrìakös made quick work to make his bed before grabbing a robe from his bed head. Taking one last look at his bed, wishing that he could return to its warmth, he took hold of the doorknob. Since he often kept his door closed at night, he was welcome by the hot air from the fireplace as soon as he opened the door. It was a refreshing wakeup call; consider he was just sleeping in a relatively cold room like the majority of the family.

Although the city was fairly cold, the houses were very warm considering the ongoing fires; the nights were cooler but not cool enough; for them at least. With the expectation of Lodovico, everyone in the family had a tendency to shut their doors at night. Each and every member of the Bonventura family value their sleep above of all else, and with the constant heat circulating, it’s not always wanted; thus the constant shutting of the bedroom doors.

Leaving his room, remembering to shut it behind him, he found that when he passed his smallest brother’s bedroom, he wasn’t surprised seeing him wrapped to the ears in covers, and hanging off the bed in Kyrìakös’ opinion an awkward position. There was also a very high possibility that he was dead…but to tread into Amara’s room without permission, even with permission meant dealing with him afterward, which wasn’t really something he wanted to do this early morning.

The fact that the door was opened was more of a surprise than him actually seeing Amara. As the baby of the family and kind of the interloper of the bunch, Amara had always been the one to value his privacy. And his constant alienation didn’t help matters at all. In truth, Amara was a very honest person but was constantly tore between things Kyrìakös could only fathom to understand. Often within the family, Amara was scolded because of his careless antics of disappearing for days on end with no word, making rude comments and generally being an uncaring folk to others. His life was filled with the orders of his brothers and the fears of their mother; that’s why Amara’s door was always closed. Once Lodovico had to climb through Amara’s window because Amara refused to unlock his door; course that ended in Lodovico putting Amara in a submission hold until he passed out. It had been very humorous from where Kyrìakös had stood but the knowledge of how hurt and angry Amara would be when he came too had made it seem less funny.

Even so, Kyrìakös felt that he needed to relish in this rare opportunity to watch Amara asleep, rather than awake and ready for a fight. Amara had grown up much too fast. Only two hundred and four seasons old, roughly seventeen, he was not innocent or at least not innocent as Kyrìakös believe he should be or how he would like him to be. It seemed more that he had been tainted by something; maybe with a mixture of selfish and bitterness because of their father. Of course it could be something completely different but regardless Kyrìakös felt ashamed that he wasn’t strong enough, or good enough to protect him from the trials of life. Be that as it may, he could tell that Amara would be great by himself or with help from others. Amara would achieve greatness more times than anyone else in his lifetime. It made him proud to know that; to feel and to have that little piece of knowledge. Amara was growing so much, sometime seemingly for the worst but for small and far in-between moments, he truly believed that it could possibly be for the better.

Pausing when he heard the creak of a door that hadn’t been opened for who knows how long, Kyrìakös felt him smile as he begun feeling the heat from exoirs as the revealed themselves from their grooves in his back and shoulder blades. Like all babies born on M’Gen Rai, he was born with exoirs, stones of the Gods, which infused his body and soul with abilities to further himself and like most male Mai Dai’s, he was born with his exoirs located on his back. His ranged from the start of his spine, to the lesser part of his waist, with two on each shoulder. He was born with a total of twelve exoirs, which placed him higher in the norm of Mai Dai given that most only had eight to ten.

Soon heat surround his body, he could feel his body begin to split, using his misalita, his special trait. All Mai Dai were born with misalita, traits that made them special in a sense, such as Amara had the ability to manipulate the motion of the air, Lodovico could change his body to meet that of any animal, and Tercero could run almost faster than anything on this planet.

Many people believed that misalita’s were the reason they were Mai Dai. Kyrìakös didn’t agree with that. Although he loved his hierarchy, misalita were the main reason Mai Dai probably would never be able to merge with other being in this universe. Once born, almost every Mai Dai are encouraged to use their misalita’s and reveal their exiors as they are a part of one’s concept of self, but really, if Mai Dai’s were to ever leave M’Gen Rai, would they really be able to hide what they were? This was something Kyrìakös often pondered on when he looked out to the night stars, counting the endless star in the sky. As the endless romantic he was, he saw the future of the planet being someone of becoming prisoners in their own cage; their cage being M’Gen Rai.

For Kyrìakös, his misalita was the ability of creating and controlling multiples of himself, which was very handing in his opinion especially with chores. Each multiple had a separate mind that worked as a Hive Mind. They were able to share thoughts and whims; they were essentially the same person, they all had the same face, same voice, same everything, but different in the same sense. This ability was the base of Kyrìakös’ pride, to be able to help and further himself and others in a short span of time, although with his misalita it was likely cheating.

Standing still for a moment, Kyrìakös could feel his body grow warm as the exoirs began sweltering, exposing themselves from the grooves on his back. It became hot but it was a reassuring hotness as a burning sensation began to explode from his spine outwards. Feeling himself swell, he stepped back, feet planted still on the floor as his hands reached back. Throwing his head back he stared at the ceiling as his eyes were still concentrated at the wall. Smiling at himself, he watched himself smirked as his body began to cool down. Not letting it, Kyrìakös’ body began to burn as both of his forms began splitting once again, until their stood four in totally; each form identical to the last, sharing everything but yet being so different. They were still Kyrìakös and Kyrìakös was still them. Kyrìakös could even see from four different angles, yet this didn’t even hurt or give him a headache to see the different setting surprisingly; mostly likely due to his constant use of it, it was just another thing he did and could do.

Taking a look at himself, he couldn’t help but smile when the footsteps were getting closer to the location he stood. Taking a moment to crouch at the corner, he heard himself laugh, before they all took corner and tackled the form of Kyrìakös’ younger brother Valdemar Tercero Manesseh to the ground. Taking pleasure at four different angles of Tercero shocked expression, and the triumph of throwing Tercero down to the ground and creating a dog pile, Kyrìakös took a moment to laugh at the situation, and oh, how his laugh echoed in the halls, emphasized by the three others.

He had missed doing this. So much!

“Get off me!” Tercero shrieked in aggravation, the weight of four Kyrìakös restricting his breathing, “I am NOT you’re punching bag Roque! You can’t use me for your games!” he fumed, trying to push any one of his forms off him. Although not one to be considered small, as he was only an inch or two smaller than Kyrìakös, Tercero greatly lack in weight and muscle to which Kyrìakös had plenty: put it simply, Tercero was just skinny.

Laughing boldly at the use of his first name, the copies slowly disappeared back into his form as he sat up, cross legged, allowing Tercero the freedom of getting up.

As all born in Mai Dai, a person was given three names to be addressed by. The first was their birth name, used by parents and other family member that held a higher rank then the person, such as mother father, aunts and uncle, grandparent, etc; in his case it was Roque. The second name is their first given name and most commonly used name, used when someone is on familiar terms with the person, Kyrìakös was his. And lastly was the 2nd given name which is used for strangers or those that are not on decent terms, called one by; Beauregard was the name given to him. Aside from that, each child was given the name of the clan their mother was born to, as well as their father’s before their father’s last name. All together, he was known as Roque Kyrìakös Beauregard Ubrin Likosei Bonaventura.

Tercero was much too young to be using his first name even though they were only a year or so apart, Lodovico didn’t even address him like that and he was two year his senor. “Such formalities for being home for less than one night, my baby brother,” Kyrìakös cooed, pushing Tercero back down onto the ground when he had risen to stand. Close in age to Kyrìakös, Tercero had always been the victim of Kyrìakös constant horse playing. Because Lodovico was older and more responsible, Kyrìakös hardly ever rough housed with him, although when they did something always broke or there was always wounds to clean. Amara was much too frail to rough horse with and being the smallest one, he was hardly home. He was often, instead on the receiving end of Kyrìakös or Lodovico fist, because of his somewhat uncaring and aloof personality.

“I am not you BABY brother, Roque~!” Tercero snapped loudly, letting out an annoyed pouted before standing up, exaggerating his first name before adding, “You bastard!”

Although Amara was the youngest of the family, Kyrìakös had always viewed Tercero to be the baby, possibly because Tercero was much more dependant then Amara. Whether it be on a memory of father or something else, Tercero seemed as though he needed to have something to hold onto to make things work for him, whereas Amara was just a little too independent for Kyrìakös’ liking. Once, he had disappeared for hours on end to find a lost doll for a neighbor’s daughter and hadn’t told anyone. He had came back several hours later, returned the doll to its owner and acted like it was nothing, even though their household was up in arms due to their panicking Mother. It had ended like most confrontations within the family: with tears shred by Mother, Tercero attempts to act like the parent, Amara acting indifferent and either him or Lodovico beating Amara over the head or punching him out. It was quite enjoyable in Kyrìakös opinion but alas he feared that his brother never saw anything passed his own existence, a selfish trait but a trait that fit Amara’s persona so well. If things were Kyrìakös’ way, he would have it so that Amara was less independent and Tercero was more.

“That would make you or Lodovico one as well,” Kyrìakös smirked, remaining on the ground. Sighing, he closed his eyes in exhaustion as knowledge of what the day brought went through his mind. Today was day of Inka and Murrandi’s (both friends to Lodovico’s wife-to-be Adannaya) engagement party. In truth, Kyrìakös didn’t really care to attend, and didn’t want to go within ninety-eight feet of the event due to his internal hatred for the two but he had promised to assist in delivering some pastries for Mikols, of which he could have his pick of seven pastries for his work. He was looking forward to that…but not the party. Honestly, he couldn’t stand the bride, who was too outgoing, loud and pig headed for his taste, and the groom was a shy and timid man that could not stand up for himself even if he were to have crutches. He didn’t believe in this union, and so he didn’t want to have to bear witness to a man losing himself out of fear of a woman that was the size of a whale.

good girls don't play with fire

The car ride itself took around twenty or so minutes for us to get to the crime scene. During that twenty minutes though I had been thoroughly tortured by Magix’s crappy taste in music. My nine comments about said crappy music came with ten of his comeback to tell me to shut up. Good times. Seriously, this will never get old.

As we drew closer to the cluster of warehouses I could feel my stomach begin to turn. This feeling is definitely worse than that feeling I had towards the strip mall where the last victim was found. At least there someone called in the body within 13 hours of the actual burning. Who knows how long this victim had been cooking for?

Getting out of the car, I made my way towards the first person that I knew could give me give me some answers.

“Stan!” I shouted as soon as he got within earshot. Cillian Niven, most commonly known as Stan for whatever reason, is what one would call a victim of life and an asshole that could make cheap sexist jokes while smiling like a saint. All together though, he’s a good guy. Mickey blue eyes with a head of short sandy blond hair; he is a wannabe lady-killer, though he does get to keep that title every once in a while. An ally and a good friend, he has the power of clairvoyance due to his Kulicno legacy. Or as he calls it: The Devil Jokes. He described his gift as a cheap joke to mess screwed up good honest people. I personally didn’t see him as a good honest person. "What you got for me?"

"Chasta!" he smiled his face lighting up like a kid at Christmas as he turned to me. "Do I get to see the twins?" he asked, the smile never leaving his lips while he made suggestive hand signals regarding my bust.

Honest, yes. Good, that depends on how you look at the word.

Smacking him upside his head as soon as I got close enough, I had to struggle to give him a strain smile. Love the jackass to death but we have work to do. "Don't even try it."

Stan took the punch like all men. He flinched and cringed as if I hit like some famous boxer. Jerk. It took a moment for me to realize how hard I hit him. He stood tall, still rubbing his brawny right shoulder. The action made me feel bad for a second.

It's not that I don't like nonsense, hell it's a great distraction but stress kills everything. The thought of another victim gave me a migraine. It equals nails on a chalkboard on my list of things that annoys me.

As a result, the smack had been a little harder than it should have been, that and the twins didn't like being teased.

Oh well, he'll forgive me. He always does. "Now what can you tell me?"

"The corpse is female, that much is for sure: mid 40 - 50s, a mother, someone's sister and a to-be grandmother of twins from her only son. Hard worker always takes presents to the Orphanage on Christmas. A rarity nowadays: a good-fucking-citizen." he answered, his expression changing from class-clown to an angry delinquent in a matter of seconds.

Raising an eyebrow at the sight, I could only bite on the inside of my cheek. Stan has always been known for his angry and often violent outbursts due to his clairvoyance. Having the ability to absorb emotions, memories and thoughts almost involuntary had a negative effect on him for the most part. So many emotions and thoughts all coming in at the same time, like a constant stream pouring into you; I can’t even fathom what that must feel like. It made emotions high for him and something he couldn’t always control. I gave him the breathing room needed since this is tamed in comparison of what I had seen from him in the past. A couple years back he had done his thing to try to find a child molester and almost went crazy with rage when we actually found the culprit. Stan’s generally a good guy but sometimes he just can’t control himself. And I didn’t expect him too.

Shaking his head, Stan scratched his chin with a dumbfounded look on his face, completely different from his previous expression. It made me seriously question he in the world he operated; stupid little dumb kid against the angry man. How the hell does that work? “I don’t know her name. She has a son named Thompson who’s married to an Olivia but there weren’t any last names. No idea where she live. She doesn’t even know what happened, everything just goes black.”

“Need some time?” Magix asked, coming to a stop right beside Stan. I noticed the hand Magix placed against his shoulders.

Now normally when Stan’s in his zone, as I called it, nobody would even try to touch him but Magix’s the one exception to this rule. Magix stood taller than Stan, most people actually, and his frame spread wider and heftier in the way that he nearly towers over him. There’s no question that Magix could restrain almost anyone. That and I’m pretty sure Stan’s afraid of him.

“No.” He answered, shaking his head and shrugging Magix’s hand off in a cool but boorish manner. Yep, definitely tense around the big guy. "I'm going to try again but I'm telling you whoever's doing this shit is getting better at it."

"How so?" I asked as we all headed in. The smell of burnt flesh soaked thickly in the air as we got closer to the buildingmade me gag. I am never going to get used to this crap.

"Just like the other victims she's burned from the inside. But get this - the fingers, toes and the nails had been cooked so long that they're still streaming. Not pretty. The exception of course was the first few layers of skin. Just by looking at it, it seems like her blood was even boiling. There's black puss coming from his skin."

"Even out of the pores?" Magix asked, his face scrunching in disgust at the thought. I did too. "Does anyone know how long she burned for?"

"No clue. She'll be sent to the lab. Hopefully they can tell us," Stan answered shrugging his shoulders. His cheek started to blow up as he covered his nose for a moment. "I seriously need a long bubble bath after this."

Groaning, I had to scrunch my own nose when we got closer. I'm pretty sure when I see the body I'm going to lose my lunch. The smell alone is enough to make someone spew their breakfast, lunch and last night’s dinner. If the same savage merciless state in which the last body was found served as any evidence towards the manner in which he had left this latest victim I was likely to do just that. Good thing I had had a light lunch.

Walking up beside Dee, who was squatted beside the body, I groaned at the sight of the blacken form. From where I stood, I could see which part of the body had gotten the most burning: the chest area, the meat of the thighs, arms and around the neck. The blacken portion rose against the pale cream complexion you could still make out. Arms and legs all were twisted in an awkward position. Blackened, dried body ran from every other spot could be seen as well. Her eyes are hollow and empty; even the corneas were blackened. The only thing that looked remotely normal was her clothes aside from the parts that were scalded and burnt.

Damn.

good girls don't strike cupid excerpt

I live a relatively boring life.

I’m currently working as a Substitute Teacher at St. Marie Elementary School while Mrs. LaVigne is on medical leave. I live alone in a two bedroom apartment building that’s two minutes from the train station and close by a park I do my morning jog in. I love reading and spend most of my time doing that when I’m not being dragged out by someone to run errands, marking homework or to be the attractive eye candy.

I wasn’t like Kagiso Ochoa, one of my childhood friends. I wasn’t an entrepreneur that had started a business after getting herself straightened out. I didn’t have a 4 year old son that I have to take care of while attempting to run a full-fledge restaurant. Oh no, wasn’t anything like that.

I wasn’t like Chasta Jarvis, another friend, who tracks down bad guys while bring psychopaths and rapist to justice as a police detective. Not in my wildest dream was I even similar to her; guns scared me shitless.

And I wasn’t anywhere near being like Nasira Masuka, our wild type party girl. I didn’t travel and write exciting stories about my adventures or anything my boss told me to. Nope, I’m not like any of them.

Standing at the foot of the rock climbing wall, I felt myself being further and further from my beautiful boring life. I wasn’t adventurous, hell I’m not even fearless. I hate spiders, guns and underwater animals that can eat me. This was way above my comfort zone. The wall itself was built with three difficulties, and four levels total. After each level was a groove site where you could rest but I couldn’t imagine myself getting there. There were marked out paths for the average Joe with plenty of room for the more advance, or in my opinion insane Joe to go off of and have some fun. “I don’t want to die!” I groaned already imagining the millions of ways I could die. Falling was on the top of the list.

“Don’t be such a baby Utari,” Kagiso cooed, giving my bum a reassuring smack. “This shouldn’t take us more than a couple hours.”

I wasn’t convinced. “That’s a lot of time to be falling,”

“You’ll be strapped in so there’s no danger...”

“Unless one of the lines snaps,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You do realize I’m a school teacher right?!”

Kagiso gave me a look and I tucked my lips in. “And I’m a mommy. I’m not that scared.”

“Your son happens to thing you’re in relations with Superman so I doubt that counts.”

Without doubt, Kagiso is our mother of the group but outside of her son, Benjamin ‘Bikky’ Ochoa, you couldn’t tell. 5’7, athletic build you couldn’t tell she had a kid. Hell I couldn’t believe that she had managed to have a kid. A single partner and a business owner, Kagiso did scary good for herself. Chest-length black hair, chocolate complex and dark eyes, she’s still one of the few people to remember how much I hate rock climbing.

“It’s not that high,” Dylon Ruskin is our Rock Climbing instructor for the day and in my opinion stupid dumb if he thinks I’m going up that mountain. “I’m sure you tough ladies can handle this.”

Yep, stupid dumb.

“This is nothing,” Chasta perked up, slipping on her harnesses as if it was a second skin. “We’ve climb at Rushmore Peek before with no gear. This is going to be a piece of cake.”

Chasta Jarvis is the resident athletic crazy person of everyone I know. She’s pretty much fearless and always up for a challenge. Thanks to the DNA of her father, she’s tall and built. Her hair which used to rival my flowing black hair had been cut into a boy’s cut after most of it got burned off a couple months back. Aside from that, she had rich hazel eyes then tend to get brighter as the seasons got warmer.

She looked over at me and gave a wink. It was that knowing wink and silently said ‘Don’t worry. We’ll be done soon’. I frowned and mentally thought ‘With enough time to get to my funeral’.

More to the point when we went to the Rushmore Peek about 3 years ago we didn’t have any of the appropriate equipment but because she is crazy and insane, she and Kagiso started climbing the freaking peek with the keys to the car leaving me and Nasira just to follow them and pray we didn’t get killed. We didn’t obviously but I swore I wouldn’t do rock climbing again.

Now look where I am.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Dylon started while Kagiso started fixing my harness. I didn’t even realize it. I was too busy staring at my death.

Oh god, please don’t make me go through this again. I will never complain about drinking with Nasira again!

Sensing my worry, Kagiso patted my head. “Don’t think about it. It’s easier that way.”

“Do I look like I have the upper body strength to do this?”

“I think you can,” Dylon said. I wasn’t really paying attention unfortunately. I was imagining myself slipping and falling straight on my back resulting in me living the rest of my life in a wheelchair.

“I hate you people so much,” I whispered, holding my hand in my hair.