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Chapter Two: A Dark Day In Heaven Prologue: Mirror Image The nightmare was always the same. It had been the same and it would be the same. The vision in front of me, ready to shoot me down with bullets or screams, or just blame. Violent screams of a mad killer, added to the laughter of someone I knew just too well. Somewhere, Rinoa was screaming. I was at the door of the suite, it was open. I wouldn’t answer the phone this time, it made me lose time. I ran inside, but I was taking baby steps. The phone was ringing, but it was hanging from the ceiling. I ignored it and continued to walk- it was faster. I came up to our living room, where the TV was still on, stuck on Timber News Channel. “And Squall Leonhart had failed to come into the scene in time, thus leading to the death of his not-so-beloved girlfriend who was a total slut and-“ I smashed the TV with my kick. I hated the news. They didn’t represent the truth. I was on the stairs, on which thousands of Galbadian Soldiers laid dead with little shooting stars covering them up. The stairs had a carpet, blood red, but it was just a carpet. The mad laughter of someone who had been high sounded upstairs. I had to hurry up. I jumped up and started flying upstairs. I knew I could, forces of magic was beside me. On my way, I saw Quistis, on the stairs, crying. “Why, Squall?” she asked “Why did you push me? Why!?” The shrukien was still in her chest. She looked at me with the same empty eyes, blame piercing my skin. I fell. The staircase became a cliff, ready to suck me in. I desperately tried to hold on, but it was no use. The winds threw me to the floor of the study room. The doorknob was there. The window was there too. I walked over to the window. This time, I wouldn’t touch the door. This time, I would be able to save Rinoa. I hugged the wall and slowly walked my way from the window of the study room to our bedroom window. When I finally got to the window, I got ready to open it up. So lightly and gently, my hands touched the window frame. The bomb inside exploded. Throwing shards of glass on top of me which became little shrukiens in mid air and sending me down to the arms of my demons, it had killed Rinoa. I could hear her screams, begging for the killer to stop. But as I fell into the hungry mouths and eager claws of my demons, I had seen something. I knew who the killer was. I had seen him. I saw him everytime I looked into a mirror. Part One: Feast To The Kings I woke up from a bad dream to another bad dream. The dreams of mine were nightmares, one inside the other like a kid’s magic box of cubes. The wound had been stitched, obviously, because otherwise, the blood I felt drying on the pillow wouldn’tve made any sense. I could feel the little stitches, just like the ropes that had bounded me to nightmares. I didn’t feel any clothes on me, so I was probably naked under the bed sheets. Where I was had became insignificant. I could’ve been in a hotel room, or in a private apartment, or in the depths of a cavernous grave for all I cared. “So you’re awake...” came Elise’s voice. I then remembered it was a girl who had brought me here, and undressed me, and even stitched my head. I wasn’t about to make any comment, I still haven’t seen any angels. If I don’t count in Rinoa, and she was dead for quite some time now. “How long have I been out?” I managed to get out from my sealed mouth. “A day.”she said. “A day!?” I asked, getting up. The bed sheets slid down and revealed a totally naked me, full of bruises to Elise. She squealed and turned around, her face burning crimson red. A day. Whatever that was in Deling Hotel room 398, it had surely vanished into the dusty pages of history. “Where are my clothes?” I asked. “Th-there.” Elise said, pointing at the couch near me. The lights were dim, and my head was still sleepy and blurred with that nightmare. Until I took my clothes and put them on, Elise stood there, with her back turned at me, waiting for me to tell her to turn around. “Zak, are you-“ “Squall.” I said. If she was an angel, she would ask my last name and then tell me to walk away or she would call the cops. “What? You-“ “Squall Leonhart is my name.” I said. “You didn’t look so much of a... Murderer to me. You’re just lost.” “How can you tell?” it was the goddamn hands of curiosity that took over the joystick of my mind. “Your eyes. They’re full of innocence.” “Damn to Diablos.” I exclaimed, “You knew who I was, didn’t you?” “I did.” “Anyways, can I get some food?” the only true thing I felt or wanted to feel was hunger. Pain was gone, there wasn’t any left, not enough to even to send sparks to my nerves and wake me up. “Oh, I’m truly sorry, I thought you would be hungry, it’s my fault that I didn’t ask myself.” “Whatever.” I muttered, she looked a little bit hurt. After all, she had been helping me out, and I had been acting like myself... The old Squall that I knew. “From what Rinoa told me,” Elise said “That was a good sign.” “None of your business.” I replied. “None of your business.” She repeated, right in the middle of my sentence. I could’ve laughed or even smiled, if I remembered how or could figure out why. As I sat down to the table and started eating whatever had been put in front of me like it was a feast to the kings, Elise sat right across the table, looking at me. “What?” I asked. “Oh, Squall, you don’t remember me?” she asked. I could’ve shaken with laughter and taken the meal with me down to the ground if I could. I only remembered the pain, and there was no room for anything else. If I numbed it down, I knew that I would have to feel the emptyness. “Can’t say I do.” I said when I paused the chewing to gulp down a glass of water. As Elise poured me another glass, she told me, “I’m Elise, Rinoa’s best friend. We met at her funeral.” To come to that, I didn’t want to remember anything about it. Because once you had given up everything about a memory, what you would find when you go into it again would be a mad, blue-eyed killer right behind you. “I don’t want to remember the funeral... Thanks.” I said. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Elise said, bending her head down. The place started to look familiar. It looked like a rather luxury suite. I wasn’t sure how I had gotten to this place, she couldn’tve carried me all the way to here, that was for sure. The muscular power to the dead weight wouldn’t allow her to do so. And the possibility of a jelous husband with a gun or a sword storming inside to cap me gave a certain paranoid feeling. “What happened to you, Squall? You look like a mess.” I wasn’t sure the things I knew would outrank the things she knew, but thanks to Hyne for one time, the phone rang and Elise had to pick it up. “What? Oh, yes, he’s here. Wait a second.” She pointed me to come near her. I walked to the phone, but I was leaning from side to side to keep my balance. I got the stool and asked, “Hello?” “Squall Leonhart?” “Talk to me.” “It’s me, NTH. I’ve got my hands on some information. I nearly got myself killed over it. Jack Bret may be taking orders from someone else.” “Call me when you have some serious information.” I replied, slamming the phone shut. Just when I was about to return to the table to finish my meal, the phone rang again. I picked up to curse at my dime-dropper. “You little son of a-“ “Am I speaking to Mr.Leonhart?” The voice didn’t belong to NTH, so I replied as “Who are you?” “The name’s Saladin. Get out of there, fast.” “What!? Wait a second, I’m having the first meal of two days and it’s like a feast to the kings.” “This may be your last feast to the kings, your last meal if you don’t do as I say.” “Right.” “Get out of there, fast! You need to go now, if you want to use your only and little chance to keep on running.” “Why do you care?” “I will contact you again, whenever I see you need my help.” Then he hung up on me. I hadn’t understood anything, but like everything else, it was a mystery, clouded beneath the feast to the kings, the feast to the fools. The feast of lies. I then realised where we were. It was a room of Deling Hotel, the room so much like the room where Laguna had met Julia. But it wasn’t the decor or Elise’s beauty that attracted me. The room’s number was 398. Part Two: Lady Luck My luck had turned, but only against me, like any and everything else that had turned in that last two days. I could’ve laughed, but I couldn’t remember how and my imitation wouldn’t be so good. “Elise, what’s your last name?” I asked, but I feared the answer. Because the ghosts of the past were whispering into my ear. “Bret, why?” she asked, innocently. Bret! I was right in my target’s domain. I had been trying to get to Jack Bret but now that I thought about it, it didn’t seem too attractive from the point I was standing. Saladin had been right. Like everything else, the mysterious guy had helped me out. And he was right, before Jack Bret arrived with intentions like putting my dues to his debt, I had to put his dues into my debt. Then we could all sit down and have a talk, sort out differences with the words or just the stained tip of my gunblade. “Squall, who-“ “Elise, you didn’t see me, I never was here, okay?” “What’s wrong? You’re not going to run like that, are you?” The thing that had flashed in her eyes had a strange, warm glare. She had obviously been taken with me from the start. But after all that have happened, I had lost my will to love. More likely, I had lost my ability to love. “Jack Bret, your beloved husband is the one who I’m after, and I don’t want to be joining an in-marriage scandal as well as some framed murder.” “What? Jack is not my husband!” “What? Then who-“ Saladin had been playing with me. Or just toying with me. Everyone around me were toying with me, in fact, they had been hanging on to this sick game. “Wait a second. Jack Bret wasn’t your husband then-“ “He’s my brother.” Another sick thing right in the middle of this triangle of sickness. But looking at it properly, I could use her. Yes, I could use her to fulfill my goal as the avenging angel against Jack Bret. She would provide me some inside information. That’s when it happened... “Squall Leonhart! We got the building surrounded! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up!” So, in this whirlwind of lies, Saladin had told me the truth. They were coming for me. After all you could live through, it was the surprises that always striked you down. I only had five minutes before they stormed in, aiming to my head with their guns, and using a simple plan of action: Let’s shoot, shoot, and shoot some more, when everyone is dead, let’s start asking questions. “Elise, you didn’t see me, you don’t even know me, okay?” “Wait, come here!” she pointed at the bathroom. To my surprise, the bathtub could be lifted up, revealing a secret little room. “This is an addition the ever-present customer Jack Bret asked for them to do. You can hide in there.” I wasn’t about to question my luck. Lady luck had been so much of a bitch for me in the last couple of days, and I was running out of cash on that hooker. The room was dimly-lit, almost no light at all, and it blurred my vision even more. I could pass out, but I heard a door slam nearby, an officer saying “Where is he? Is he here!?”. Passing out would be like shouting, Hey, I’m here, come and shoot me, and yeah I’ve got no brains. After the door slammed again, I waited for the scream of sirens to begin and fade out of my hearing range. The empty room gave me nothing to be busy with, and waiting was hard for me; every second was fatal... Ever since her death, it was. “You can come out now.” Elise said, and she got me out of the cool, peaceful darkness to the biting, smiting light. “Elise, look,” I said, surprised at myself talking to her like she was Rinoa, “I gotta get outta here. I gotta get to your brother.” “Okay.” She replied, I was, once more, surprised to find her caring less about it. She knew I was going to cap Jack Bret on the spot, after finding out why the hell he had killed the woman I loved, and she didn’t care? I could tell her family relationships had been tougher than a barrel of laughs. “Is there a fire exit?” “Oh yeah, just outside that window.”, she pointed at the room’s window. I could see the lights of the city, but at night and in this dark day in heaven, the lights belonged to that other city. Dealing City. I bid goodbye to Elise by just muttering a plain “bye”. And I started to climb the stairs. The danger of that was, that, any old grannie who spent twelve hours a day watching TV would recognize Galbadia’s most popular killer of all times lately. And this happened, somewhere near the top. An old lady spotted me and screamed. I couldn’t shut her mouth, so I ran for it. I knew what she had done, and any explanations on how hysterical it was had been answered by the police chopper that was approaching to the hotel’s roof. I jumped off the roof to another building, and went from there. Using the joining rooftops, I was escaping from the police. I found myself more peaceful inside the darkness, inside the cold snow and slight rain. This was my arena. It was my house, my rules. The cops had no idea who they were messing with- And I had no idea who I was messing with. A Thundaga spell landed right at my feet, the explosion throwing me backwards to the edge of the roof. This couldn’tve been done by anyone out there, not this powerful. My best guess was a sorceress, but here and now? Lady Luck must’ve been turning against me too much this time. But it was not. It was new technology, Esthar most probably, a lightning gun. I had to hide from the chopper spots that had lighted up my face. I used my best alternative, “Flare!” The huge fireball blasted right on the chopper, igniting it’s remains as they shot real fast through different directions, just like the pieces of furniture and glass in the bomb that took Rinoa’s life. Some would call it ‘Hynist Guilt’, a guilt that comes on after living such terrible disturbance of faith. But, believe it or not, whoever said that you can make it without sacrafices, hadn’t met Lady Luck as I did yet. Part Three: Let’s Get Down To Business I came in from the cold, from the wetness, from the dark, from the nightmares into this gas station near the gates of Deling City. I didn’t dare leave the city, let alone people with sense would say staying was suicide. I wanted to have a word with my informant, NTH, and he told me to wait for his call. It would seem unappropriate if I stood there and waited, so I just wandered around the phone from time to time. When it did rang, I quickly picked it up. “Squall Leonhart?” it was NTH. “Whatever.” “Let’s get down to business, I have this piece of information for you. Jack Bret has came to Deling, and he’s not at Deling Hotel.” “I thought his only location was Deling Hotel, as you said.” NTH had informed me of the absence of a list of hideouts earlier. “A club.” He said, “A club around the shopping mall, named ‘Burning Ice’. A teenager club. If they ask you a password, you will tell them ‘Forest has came into Dunsinane’, and they will know. That’s the only password I’ve got, there might be more.” “Alright. Don’t die on me, I need you.” I didn’t take my time. After making the call, I rushed out into the palms of the cold weather. Funny it all seemed to me now, the cold was meant to be causing hypothermia, but I felt awake as hell. Maybe I had been sleeping awake, maybe this whole thing had been a dream, maybe not. Either way, with my gunblade, LionHeart, in my hands and the will to go on, I was like an avenging angel. Hovering around and spilling white feathers, using the holy sword that would destroy the malefic with malefic. Fight fire with fire, not with ice or water, as they said. I would. I had to. I had no choice but to. I was running short on choices, and my thought process was cut, because I had arrived at Burning Ice. It looked like a regular club, soulless concrete and flashing neon ligths that were rapid. Some faded colours and a pair of graffiti on the walls, and a guard waiting there for me. One in the chamber, for you or for me. But I wasn’t about to eat a bullet that would be drilling into my heart. My heart which was empty and cold, full of nothing but messy sadness mixed to anger that ran through my veins. Like brother, like brother. Just like Burning Ice and Jack Bret. “Do you have da password, punk, or do you just wanna get sum change, huh!?” asked the security guard. That pig could’ve done anything for money. I was counting on that, and NTH’s information. “Forest came into Dunsinane.” I said. “This way. Roman! Come get this guy and take him to Dunsinane.” Roman was another thug with a rifle in hand. He took me into the club. That was when Lady Luck took my pants when she could find nothing in value. The club was empty. “Kneel down!” the thug ordered, the barrel on my neck. I could see other thugs around in the place, all armed with rifles. I had counted sixteen thugs, not easy to deal with. But if it was easy, anyone could’ve done it. I drew LionHeart and knocked the thug’s head off his shoulders with one swing. Gunfire, and I screamed, “Protect!” and my magical shield stopped the bullets. Fear got into the thug group, I was just some guy who had made yet another wrong move, following a combo of wrong moves. I used their moment of shock to make the shock even bigger as; “Griever! Shockwave Pulsar!”. The secret I had kept from Rinoa had been this, me obtaining Griever after the battle with Ultimecia. The attack swept the little group, leaving only a few behind. That handful of thugs retreated, as I looked around to find some hidden entrance. I started to follow the signs that said “Management”, digging deep into the corridors. My life had never been anything but endless corridors, enduring the torture forever like Sisyphus. He was pushing a rock, I was pushing myself. I was heavier and harder to move than that rock. Finally, when I found the door, something drew me to be cautious. Maybe it was a sixth sense thing, or just simple paranoia, but it had warned me. Only sorceresses could open doors from distances, or even move object from a certain distance. I would blast the door open. “Firaga!” I said, pointing at the door, and then ducked down. The door blasted, and a few thugs screamed inside the room. And a bomb exploded inside too, and then they were spooked. I wouldn’t take any chances, I threw tWo more fireballs to make sure they were dead enough, and then walked inside. After my carnage, the office had turned into a mess. It was burnt, melted, exploded, scarred up. But I could notice a piece of paper, still in one piece. You have no idea how things are going, boss! That fuckin’ bastard is not paying us, and he says we have to pay him on our lives if we say no! He’s robbing us with our eyes open and staring at him! I can’t run business like this! Either end The Trio, or count me out. Coz I ain’t gonna be staying around, waiting for my dues to be put on their debt. Hope you can help us out, or we be finito! You know why? Coz it’s been three shipments of this frickin’ thing is done for free on our behalf! We had to pay ‘em in advance! And on top of all this, he gives me the creeps! When he smirks at me, sayin “Let’s Get Down To Business!” I feel like they’re divouring the Diablos outta me! We have two choices: To cut The Trio’s rope or hang ‘em high. -Jack Bret So, Jack Bret had been wanting help from his boss, it was like asking Grim Reaper to save him from a car crash in which he died. He surely was confused, but he could still hire thugs that would get capped by an ex SeeD on the run, and still enough money to get a fireproof piece of expensive paper to write such short letter. “The Trio.” The expression was making something click in my mind, but it wasn’t loud enough for me to hear what it was. I knew I had to recognize who was behind all this, but I was afraid that by the time I got to Jack Bret, I would be so full of anger that, he would be in no condition of answering to me when I asked questions. I felt a cold tip of a blade at my neck. Someone said, “I heard you were looking for me. Let’s get down to business.” Jack Bret was standing right behind me, like the shadow of my dark soul, came along to join into our Holloween party. Part Four: All That’s Left Of Yesterday I slowly turned around. There was no gunblade in my hand, the handle was a piece of my flesh and blood, my veins overflowing on the blade and staining the ground with my anger. Jack Bret had been a high-class punk with an expensive suit, and a privatly-made-looking-flashy-gunblade. It was ironic how things turned, we both had gunblades. He was like Seifer to me, in a way. “Squall Leonhart, I presume.” He said with a smooth accent. “No.” I replied, surpised at myself throwing puns. “Then who?” “Death.” I replied, cold as hell. I was calm, I remembered the pain, and the memories of Seifer. How Rinoa and Quistis had died, my nightmares. All that’s left of yesterday. Because yesterday had been the longest night, and the longest day filled with a wild ghost chase. I had been chasing ghosts, and in return they had been whispering me clues, or just sending angels that can help me out in Diablos’ domain. “What business brings you here?” Bret asked, a confident glare in his eyes. “I wanna know.” I said. “Information? I thought you had informants.” Did he know about NTH and Saladin? Or was he Saladin? “Maybe.” I replied, short as the gublade. The gunblade of mine wasn’t long enough to reach into his stained soul and cut it. “You wanna play a game of twenty questions?” “Suits me.” “One, did you come here to wring my neck, yes or no?” “Yeah.” “Two, why?” “How’s this for a motive; framed murder and dead love?” “Nice enough.” Words were pointless. Pointlessnes was crawling on all that’s left of yesterday, Rinoa’s death, Quistis’ murder, Seifer, Jack Bret, Elise... Everything was pointless, without any sense at all. I swung my gunblade horizontally, from left to right as I stepped forward, supporting my move with the closing in of our distance. He just took a step back and lifted the gunblade up in a defensive move. The gunblades crashed, and the sweet sound of steel clashing with steel echoed in the room. I took another step forward, while swinging the gunblade in a vertical slash from downwards to upwards. Just like my ghost, he copied the move and responded in the mirror action of mine. I didn’t stop my move, my gunblade did the same move again. We started turning like two ballet dancers, with clashing gunblades and without words. His moves were artistic, mine were rageful. But this was a fight, if you could call it one. My rage towards Jack Bret hadn’t been provoked or encouraged to exist, it just did. I could feel the red fire consuming my brain, there was no thought, just the primitive, survival insinct of the battle. I managed to open up a hole in his defenses, and I lunged towards Jack Bret. I wrapped my arms around him, and he softened the impact of the wall with his body, preventing me from getting serious damage. But I was losing my strenght, fast. It was like flowers in the wind, like ink on a piece of paper under the rain. We both fell down, because we were forced to do so. None of us were very anxious about this battle. I dreamt of glorious revenge. Was this all I could get? “Who killed her?” “Killed who?” “Don’t play dumb!” I said, as I grabbed him by the collar and smashed my fist into his face. “Your girl? I don’ give a damn who did!” “Liar!” another punch. But in my second punch, Jack Bret rose and knocked me down, and sat on top of me, with his hands on my throat. I felt the calcerous fingers of death on my neck. “Would you believe me if I said I killed her!? You wouldn’t! Now shut up and stick to dying!” The enegry and life was being drained away from me. My vision was already getting blurred, my brain screaming for some oxygen. All that’s left of yesterday was me, like leftover food, right on Jack Bret’s plate. “Hahahaha!” Jack Bret laughed. His face was the face of a winning man, “I was following orders, it wasn’t me! Hahaha, and I will now be freed of his clutches, now that I got rid of you!” That was the moment I saw the truth in his eyes. He wasn’t lying. But it was too late. When I had learned who Diablos was working for, I was ready to join him. A numbness covered me up, like an overdose of painkillers. The pain ceased, my mind clear, filling with the memories of my childhood- I was truly dying. But I couldn’t give up. A man who had started something and didn’t finish it is a coward, they used to say. I didn’t want to die as a coward. I wanted to go on. I had to go on. I don’t know what got me going, the numbness or my sudden decision, but I had managed to grip the handle of my gunblade. I swung it randomly, it got buried into his leg. Jack Bret screamed like a Mersmerize. I pushed him off me, and managed to get up. He had landed on some remains of a locker, his head hit there hard. He was conscious, and that’s where I wanted him, conscious enough to answer to my questions. I put the tip of my gunblade on his throat. I had no idea where his gunblade was, but that was the least of my worries right now. “Who murdered Rinoa?” I asked. “To Diablos with you!” he replied. “Not a good start.” I said, pushing the gunblade. It didn’t kill him, or anything near that, but a droplet of blood ran down on the blade. “Okay okay!” he said “Brox Sulva! I took the orders from him!” “Where is Brox Sulva!?” “I dunno!” “TALK!” “I really don’t-“ “Where MIGHT he be?” “Balamb Hotel! That’s all I know!” “Really?” “Wait, I might remember something... Give me time..” Time? I was out of time. Patience? I had none. Mercy? I had none left. “You killed him enough already...” came a familiar voice, when the madness ceased. He then added; “But it doesn’t matter to me.” I turned around to face Irvine Kinneas. Part Five: Comfortable Darkness I could see his hate. I couldn’t blame him, or even get near to the meaning of ‘blame’. I had taken the blame, for or against my will, and I had to stand up for it this time. “Hello, Squall Leonhart.” “Irvine.” I said “What’s going on?” “Not much. You’ve become so popular...” he said, I could read the danger signs; his finger on the trigger was twitching. “Fifteen minutes of fame.” He suddenly pointed the gun to my head, his finger still twitching. He then put his finger across the barrel, to make sure he doesn’t kill me accidently. “Drop LionHeart.” He said. I did as he told me, to show my ‘good intentions’ if there were any left. “Now what? I didn’t kill her, Irvine, I swear on my soul!” “Your worthless, filthy soul, like I give a damn!” “Oh, you don’t? I saved your ass more than once!” “Maybe.” “Irvine...” I said, feeling the anger already staining my soul “If you piss me off, I will earn my fame.” “Oh, really? Shut up! You have no idea what you’re messing with!” “I think I do. Mafia, crime lords, Rinoa’s murder, Stealth dealings... Irvine, you can’t be that blind!” “I’m not blind, I know what exactly you’re dealing with! I helped her out in Anti-Stealth campaigns, you idiot!” “So why are you holding that gun to my face!?” “Because it’s proven that you’ve murdered Quistis.” “Say, WHAT!?” “Yes, reliable sources tells Headmaster Cid that-“ Reliable sources. I knew what they had done. Some bribery to the post-mortem doctors in Balamb Garden morgue, some changes in the reports and the next thing you know, your weapon which you didn’t even have in your hand at the time had killed the person next to you. I thought Brox Sulva could’ve been that reliable source, and the fly down in my soup. “Reliable sources...” I shrugged “Shoot me, then. I know I hadn’t done it, and I won’t ask for anyone else’s opinion on that.” Irvine held out the gun, and put his finger on the trigger. I smiled, for the second time in my life. It was a hollow smile, I was biding goodbye to the person I once had known as my friend. A goodbye smile, a smile of a farewell. I was waiting for the comfortable darkness. But, a shurkien getting buried into Irvine’s chest surprised us both. Irvine shot, and the bullet got into my shoulder. I screamed in pain as Irvine fell down. I got by his side, with LionHeart in my hand. He was bleeding bad, life coming out of his wound like a waterfall. “Irvine!” I said. “I’m... sorry... I didn’t... believe you...” he said. “No problem!” I replied. “Please tell... Selphie that I... love her... Please?” “I will...” I replied, and Irvine let go. His eyes became blank. I jumped up, retreated from his eyes. The blank stare, accusing me, blaming me, watching me, endlessly... The thing that brought me out of that moment of darkness was someone hitting me hard on the head. I felt my conscience slipping away from my hands, my head and soul sinking into the comfortable darkness. The last thing I could acknowledge was the silvery short hair of our attacker. Then everything went blank, as darkness embraced me, and held me comfortably, just like a bed made out entirely of silk. Maintained by: |
