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So – options.

Kill Jenna, the twelve-year old who has matter-of-factly announced she knows who I am, and then clean up the ensuing mess.   Honestly – would you miss her?

Give up on besotted best friend Kane with new girlfriend, Carly.   Or kill the girlfriend.   Or kill both.   Why?   Because I can.

Wait for Py.   Kill Py (ha).   Reason with Py (sure).   Avoid Py (yeah, right).   Does it matter?

Do my history homework tonight.   Don’t fucking make me laugh.

Leave town.   Change schools.   Start over.   Become Jonathon9, or someone else.   It’s just a fucking name, isn’t it?


Stop keeping a diary as requested.   In fucking centuries I haven’t needed to tell bloody stories about myself.   Why now?   Come on – shit, it was just a whim in the first place anyway.   Play with my food a bit, piss off the world a bit, conjure up some lies a bit.

Tell the fucking truth for a bit.


Haven’t slept since Amelia.   She won’t stay dead, for fuck’s sake.   Close my eyes, and the relentless bitch is back in my head, laughing and undead.   And I don’t need the sleep – but I need the bloody break from her.   And…


Hang on.   The Cat is hissing like a kettle, and there’s someone opening the front door.   What the fuck?…


Huh.   Here’s Py.   I guess it’s time.




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