Renaissance of Chaos

And so, I bid this story farewell

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for dropping on you so suddenly.

I know it's been a hell of a lot since I last updated this story (more than a year to be precise, yaycks!) and thought I'd like to say that the hiatus is over and I will resume working on it, unfortunately, that's not the case. In truth, I've grown dissatisfied with this story. There are many things which I started to find fault with and unfortunately, the overall tone and direction of the story being one of them, and I mention them because these are things, that even though I believe I could rectify in the future, that would take far too much time and honestly, I don't think I have the patience for it. Sorry :(

With that being said, I will discontinue this story. I don't think I will delete the book for now. Perhaps I will eventually, but that remains to be seen.

However, just because I will no longer work on this story, doesn't mean I gave up on re-writing My Crazy Year. Far from it, actually.

As a few of you might already know, a few months ago, I started working on another version of the story, one that hopefully sticks and fares much better than the previous one (only time and you, dear readers, will be able to tell.) I've already written the first 4 chapters, complete with editing and all, and I will post them next Friday.

Thank you very much for your patience and understanding and if you want to discuss, please feel free to leave a comment. I will do my best to answer in a timely manner!

Thank you once again and I hope you will like this parting gift for the story (sappy I know).

Down bellow are the draft and snippets of chapters that either didn't make it into the story or were changed one way or another. Hope you will enjoy them!

Chapter XXI (incomplete):

Since you knew her, Kristina did nothing but torment you. Pushing you into shallow ponds, cutting your ponytail when you weren't looking, cussing you out, tripping you. The list went on and on. There wasn't a day, not one, you could recall of her being nice to you or just, leaving you be. She made you cry, made you stuff your mouth with the pillow in the death of night to muffle the screams scratching at the insides of your throat, aching to escape.

You fantasized her death. Both Father and Mio knew you did. You pictured her being torn apart by monsters, well, your family, actually, and delighted yourself in her horror, in her pained screams. It was your guilty pleasure, your way of relaxing, of unwinding after having to endure another awful day being her punching bag. Those fantasies were always meant to be nothing but harmless fun. It never downed on you, how terrible what you were thinking about truly was.

Until now.

Lady Yhoundeh's rage was a thing to be feared. She spared no one, and she was the type to make a show of the torture she inflicted on her victims. A warning and a display of power at the same time.

Kristina was no different.

Tied to a wooden stake, she was bloodied and bruised, blood sipping yet from fresh cuts, intentionally smeared with dirt, to be infected. She was unconscious, a small mercy, the only one she'd be afforded, moans and groans escaping her lips through the gasped breaths. Her clothes were torn and judging by the way her wounds looked and the weapon of the cultists carried, your stomach churned thinking what she must have gone through.

Sure, you had put her through much worse in your fantasies, but then you had the comfort of knowing, nothing was real.

Here, there was no such comfort.

It was all real. The pain she endured, the humiliation. Everything was real.

℘◆℘

The trip to the hospital had been painfully long, made even more so, with your heart and mind being in conflict. One told you to go and do the right thing, while the other wanted you to run away. Your hand kept hovering near your jeans pocket where your phone was, ready to whip it out and call James to come and pick you up. You would have rather went with him and help take everyone home, then face your family at the hospital.