There Are Rules

There's The Ones You Break...

Then the Ones You Never Use.

(Back pages). Crazed fans. Stalkers. We try not to think too hard on 'em. So please don't worry. Please.

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"No of course not," I promised, "I won't tell a soul."

The very picture of innocence and of perfect, unfiltered childishness. Exactly what the twisted R-E-M-U-S Reiner had fallen in mad, hideous, and poisonous obsession with. Leaving an otherwise sharp tool... brazenly cracked in so many jagged, cutting pieces it was almost sad.

Almost.

The teenager, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, kissed me.

Far from recoiling or wobbling a lip I leaned my face for a quick, innocent press onto one of my cheeks.

"You're a doll," he sing-songed, heading for the kitchen.

Where the knives were, granted, but luckily in a dreamy, somewhat wobbling stupor from such a privilege.

I still had the distinct advantage of the front door or if worse came to worse the balcony on the other side of this couch.

I really, really hoped it didn't come to the worst.

Then again, I was in a sicko's apartment making kissy faces and ecstatic to not be bound anymore.

Just-- just a few long strides. A few.

Standing, I didn't look back, didn't look to my left or my right.

The door was all that mattered.

There was some clatter from somewhere that just... sent me. Absolutely sent me, and still one foot, in front of the other.

Lucky I was tall.

The knob just a down pull.

Steps bounded from tile to carpet.

Socks almost silent.

Remus!

And the door almost smacked my face clean off.

For a terrifying moment his arms were twined tight and much too close to my throat.

"Michigan Police Department!"

And so did the stampede of thick soled boots and clamoring law enforcement pass by.

Tackling his captor to the floor, on his stomach and one long, sinewy arm twisted to his back.

I breathed. In or out I couldn't be entirely sure. I wasn't even sure this situation was entirely real.

Dummy.

Patton was in the car's back seat. 

My own small car for four, with tinted windows, sleek purple paint job... God I loved him so much.

Before anything else he provided me with a paper bag. Which I promptly breathed into slowing my heart beat by beat.

As Patton collapsed on my shoulder, crying and holding me.

I didn't entirely enjoy it. 

What an asshole.

                                                                        *****************************

FOUND! VIRGIL HAWKES, NATION'S BRIGHT EMO SON, PLAYS SOLD OUT VENUE! 

Fans went just insane, and rightly so, this Saturday afternoon at twenty minutes past three. As just when the cancellation for the POP and ROCK Con in our civics center went live did Virgil Hawkes rush onto stage ready to capture the hearts of many teen girls and many more scores of fans of all ages.

Such uproar is a celebration to be had, as Virgil Hawkes would later confirm to both police and the public that for 48 hours he was abducted and held in a crazed fan's apartment. And had only been found that very same day to tears and adulation from his loved ones.

His PR head, Ida Fortner, had this to say, "whatever the results, it was an ill advised move no one will deny or downplay that. His [Virgil's] health matters most of all, more even, than making sure the creature who put him through this never sees daylight."

Furthermore, both she and primary guardian Janus Hawkes has declined comment or media at this time. A decision that will be respected as any conscionable reader out there will agree. From Michigan, well wishes and love to a kid named Virgil Hawkes.

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Day One

Dressed in plum purple leather and black eyeliner I stalked for the door.

"Are you serious? Storm Cloud--" Janus cried out, trailing after.

"Yes. That's the end of it, I'm going on the show."

"With nothing in your stomach or any sleep?"

"They have food there."

"I forbid it!" He blocked my path to the door, face fuming and ready to spit fire.

Day Five

Janus put down his keys, phone in his ear, eyes wild in a frenzy to the whimpering voice on the other line.

Coming closer as he pulled open the door to his own walk-in.

To find a little storm cloud, wrapped in his bedsheets, a complete frazzled mess as he cradled a rolling pin.

"I-- I heard a police siren," he whispered, near choking on a ball of panic that almost exploded.

Had he not run bare foot faster than Janus could react.

Arms hanging limply at his side.

Day Ten

"...Receiving confirmation that Hawkes is unharmed and healthy. Paramedics struggle to pass by the throngs of fans..."

Day Fourteen

"Mr. Emile," came a soft, tentative voice. Belonging to the coffee guy. 

Only not. 

"Please, don't throw me out. It's-- it's about the Hawkes, Remus, didn't-- own the apartment."

???

"Greetings child. My name is Logan Berry, your new therapist."

Mr. Logan took a moment to clean his round glasses before sitting down.

Cobalt eyes completely cold, studying Virgil knead his hands more akin to a particularly intriguing research query than a person.