Ryan was correct about it being daylight when they made it to the hotel. Now, instead of being only a slightly dull dawn color, the whole sky was blue, and the sun was starting to light the horizon in a golden flame as it rose—the tops of the buildings looking like torches as the sun warmed the skyscrapers.

  “Do you think Kevin will be awake this time?” Nicolas asked, feeling suddenly anxious about how he might react if he found out that they’d snuck out a second time.

  “Maybe,” Ryan admitted. “Only one way to find out, I guess.”

  Nicolas led the way forward until they came to the stairs, then they walked side by side until they made it to the dark hotel room. Nicolas let Ryan open the door, since he was quieter. He pulled down on the rusty, metal knob, and it slowly clicked down, and Ryan and Nicolas quietly entered the room.

  It was completely dark inside, which Nicolas took as being a good sign. If Ash were awake, they would’ve likely had a candle lit or the lamp. None of them liked the darkness, and since Kevin always seemed to be hiding inside what Nicolas now decided to call ‘the workshop,’ it wasn’t like he was around to complain about them wasting oil or candle wax.

  Ryan closed the door behind them, and they both stood still, listening to the silence ring in their ears.

  “I think we did it,” Ryan whispered, breaking the silence at last. Nicolas let out a breath of relief. He didn’t want Kevin to catch them again, and he definitely didn’t want Ash finding out that they were sneaking out without them.

  “Do you want to do this again?” Ryan whispered in his ear so close that Nicolas could almost feel his breath.

  “Absolutely,” Nicolas replied, whispering back.

  They sat down on the bed while they waited for Ash to wake up.

  “Ash doesn’t usually stay asleep this late,” Nicolas told Ryan. “I guess the darkness is messing with all of us.”

  “Maybe,” Ryan replied, before another long silent pause rang through the air. Then, Ryan broke the silence. “How long have you and Ash been friends?”

  The randomness of this question caught him off guard slightly, but Nicolas answered it anyway. “Honestly, I don’t really know. It’s been a long time though; we used to go to school together.”

  “Used to?”

  Nicolas wasn’t going to tell him about the rumors from students, or the bullying from the adults, so he went with an equally true answer. “They moved to a different city, one further away. So they also went to a different school.”

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly, almost as if he suspected that there was something Nicolas wasn’t telling him.

  How does he know?

  “Makes sense,” Ryan said, his voice sounding the way it always had. No suspicious tone, no hint of disbelief.

  Maybe I’m just imagining things.

  Nicolas didn’t think Ash would’ve told Ryan the real reason why they’d switched to homeschooling, or why they had moved to Seattle in the first place. Nicolas only knew because he was there when it all happened.

  .

  ..

  .

  “Do you have an extra eraser?” Ash asked Nicolas as he rummaged through his locker; although Nicolas didn’t know them by that name at the time.

  “Yeah, I should,” he replied. Nicolas liked being organized, at least at school. His room, as well as the whole apartment they lived in, was a mess, so being disorganized at school felt as if he'd brought a piece of his dad’s place with him, which he hated.

  He opened the little plastic container of erasers and took out one of the tiny, pink objects. They were small erasers, the cone-shaped kind that sit at the end of a pencil. “Here.”

  “Thank you.” Just as Ash grabbed it, something hit them in the shoulder so hard that it knocked them into one of the lockers. At first, it almost seemed as if some kind of ghost had shoved Ash into the wall, but less than a second later, Nicolas’ mind finally registered what had actually hit them.

  Kane.

  Nicolas hadn't minded the guy when they first met, and as much as he hated to admit it, he actually liked him at first.

  That is, until he got to know the real side of him.

  Kane was one of those guys whose only sense of humor was slurs, racism disguised as “dark humor,” and being a jerk, which were three things Nicolas found incredibly unattractive. And he went from disliking Kane to hating him, after he followed Nicolas home one day to bully him.

  “Just leave me alone,” Nicolas told him, trying to walk faster, despite his legs feeling like they’d gone numb with fear. The streetlights were the only sources of light, since the sky was covered in a layer of dark clouds, blocking out the moon and stars.

  “I’m just joking,” Kane called back; Nicolas’ power-walking seemed to do nothing to increase the distance between them. He thought about running, but worried that he wouldn’t be able to outrun Kane if he decided to chase him.

  “I thought you said you wanted to talk to me.”

  Nicolas didn’t respond.

  “Stop ignoring me, freak!”

  His heart was pounding, and his lungs felt like they were about to completely give out, even though he wasn’t walking that fast, at least, it didn’t seem that way.

  Kane was right though; he did want to talk to him. After all, Nicolas was the one who first asked him to call him.

  But that was before.

  Up ahead, Nicolas noticed a bus stop, and when he saw people, he let out a sigh of relief.

  “I’m just joking,” Kane shouted, but not as loud as he had been moments before, suggesting Nicolas was right to stay near witnesses. “A real man wouldn’t run like a female.”

  Nicolas’ dad had said something similar one time.

  He continued walking, picking up the pace until he got to the bus stop, where a man and his wife were waiting. Thankfully, when Nicolas turned back to Kane, he saw him turn around, disappearing as if he didn’t want anyone to know he’d been harassing “a queer.”

  The school bell ringing brought Nicolas back to the present, where Kane had continued walking a few steps, only seeming to notice that he'd shoulder-checked Ash when he had stepped about six feet away. He stopped, and when he turned, Nicolas could see his dark, cross earrings, which matched his straight and short black hair.

  His eyes locked onto Ash’s as he moved his hand up and touched his index finger to his own neck, tapping his skin twice before turning back around and disappearing down the hallway.

  “What's his problem?” Nicolas asked, anger pulsing through his head. He'd grown to hate Kane, which was something that wasn't common for him. There weren't a lot of people he hated, but Kane was one of them.

  “I don’t know,” Ash replied, almost mumbling. “He’s just one of those kinds of people I guess.”

  “What was that thing he did, with his neck?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” was all Ash replied. Nicolas decided not to push them. Sometimes, people just needed confirmation that their emotions wouldn't be ignored if they wanted to talk; but he didn't think that this was one of those times.

  “Alright,” he said instead, giving them a hug. “Whatever it was, just ignore him, he’s a prick.”

  “Thank you.”

  When he released Ash, Nicolas closed his locker, and they began making their way to their next class.

  It wasn’t until later that Nicolas learned what Kane was saying.

  ***

  Once Nicolas realized just how often people talked about Ash, it became really easy to see how often people lied about them, as well. One of these liars, named Brittney, had apparently gone around telling people that they were a nazi, which Nicolas thought was a stupid lie, since Ash’s family is literally Jewish. He never found out where the rumor came from, but he had a feeling it had to do with Brittney and Ash’s rivalry, which started years ago. Neither of them ever talked about what started their feud, and Nicolas only ever asked Ash about it a few times.

  Another rumor claimed that Ash had once dropped a large rock off an overpass, hitting a passing car and killing the old couple inside. To make things worse, someone dug up an actual news article describing something similar to what people had been saying. The police were looking for an unknown person who’d dropped a rock over the highway, killing an elderly man.

  Somehow, people believed that Ash had done it, even though the paper was published in 1986, and the killer was later identified as a nineteen-year-old named Lewis Donald. Nicolas tried to point these out, but it didn’t stop people from calling Ash “the overpass killer.”

  There were other rumors too, but most of them didn’t last very long. It was a smear campaign, and Nicolas was desperate to find out who was making the rumors. His only suspects were Kane, Brittney, and David, who was Brittney’s boyfriend.

  As the rumors continued, Ash had begun talking less; and the few friends they did have had stopped talking to them, not wanting to be associated with the overpass killer. Nicolas had known them for as long as he could remember, so it’d take a lot more than some old newspaper to convince him of something as insane as that. It seemed as if there was a new rumor every week, and every time, the whole school seemed to know about it before Friday afternoon.

  But as it turned out, if you tell enough lies, sometimes, one of them ends up being true.

  ***

  Nicolas was yet again sitting on a bench in the city, and once again, it was night time. The sky looked completely black, either because of clouds Nicolas couldn’t see, or because of the blinding city lights filling his vision.

  He tapped on Ash’s name on his phone, and then, the call icon.

  It only rang once before Ash picked up.

  “Hey.” Their voice sounded broken, like someone on the verge of tears.

  “Hey,” Nicolas replied. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Ash lied; and Nicolas knew they were lying as soon as they said it. “Can we just talk?”

  “Sure, about what?”

  “Anything.”

  Nicolas thought for a moment, trying to think of the best question he could ask, before finally saying; “alright. What’s something in the future you’re excited for?” He figured that talking about the future was better than talking about the past or present, since neither of them had a particularly great childhood.

  “Getting out of this place,” Ash replied, without much hesitation. “This school, this house, this whole stupid country; I can’t wait until I can finally kiss it all goodbye and go somewhere else.”

  Nicolas felt the same way. This was the reason why he was sitting on a bench by a bus stop, instead of going home. He also knew what it was like to feel like your own environment was suffocating you. “One day we’ll both be able to get out of here,” Nicolas told them, not sure what else to say.

  “Like where?” Ash asked. “We live in Portland for heaven's sake. This place is supposed to be progressive. If people are this cruel here, then is anywhere safe?”

  Once again, Nicolas wasn’t sure how to answer. He agreed, as much as he hated to admit it. Even in a place like Portland, he still had people call him insults and slurs constantly, even though he’d never told anyone he was gay.

  He remembered that time with Kane.

  If something like that could happen here, then what’s it like in places like Alabama or Texas?

  “If only we had the ability to disappear for a moment or two,” Nicolas said, desperate to at least say something.

  “I want to disappear forever,” Ash mumbled, so quietly that Nicolas almost didn’t even hear them.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” their voice cracked at the end, as if they were holding back tears. Nicolas rarely ever saw Ash cry, and it scared him whenever they did. “I’m tired of this. I hate the way I look, I hate my voice, I hate my face, I hate feeling broken, and I hate how Kane keeps bothering me.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  “That I should’ve succeeded.”

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Succeeded in what?” Nicolas asked, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer. That memory of Kane pointing a finger to his neck, a wordless message Nicolas didn’t understand at the time, but somehow understood very clearly now.

  “Disappearing.”

  ***

  Ever since that phone call, Ash hadn’t been coming to school. They claimed they were sick, but Nicolas had a feeling that wasn’t the full truth.

  Today was no exception. A few people even asked Nicolas if they were doing better, though he doubted any of them actually cared. It seemed sometimes like the whole school hated Ash, and hated him for being Ash’s friend.

  As soon as he had a chance, Nicolas attempted to call them: Even if that chance meant hiding in the restroom while everyone else was busy with lunch.

  The phone rang, but there was no answer; so when it went to voicemail, he sent them a message.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  Maybe they really are just sick, Nicolas tried to tell himself. However, he didn’t believe this one bit. Mostly because, this week's rumor was one that even he was starting to believe.

  He placed his phone back into his pocket, and made his way out of the restroom, where he began power walking toward the cafeteria.

  He noticed Kane as soon as he stepped through the doors, sitting with his friends at the edge of the room. A strange feeling of envy that he hated hit him, and he turned his eyes away to stop the feeling.

  Why do even the bullies have more friends than me?

  Once he had his food, Nicolas sat down at the table he and Ash always sat at. Everyone seemed to have their own special tables; the nerds sat at the ‘nerd table,’ the emo people sat at the ‘emo table,’ and so on. And since Nicolas and Ash were practically their own group, their table was completely empty.

  Well, it would’ve been, if it weren’t for the freckle-covered boy with the mullet, sitting where Ash normally sat.

  “I heard your girlfriend wants to be a boy,” Drake told Nicolas when he made it to the table. “Now I can’t tell who’s gayer.” Drake cackled at this, as if it were the funniest thing to ever be said, in the history of mankind.

  “What does that even mean?” Nicolas asked. He didn't usually confront people, but Drake was different. Even Kane found him annoying. It was as if bothering everyone in the school was his whole, life’s purpose. His humor usually just consisted of ‘yo-mama’ jokes, shouting loudly, and calling Nicolas gay.

  A lot of people called him that. Sure, they were right, but that didn't make it any less annoying that people assumed; it always made him feel super self-conscious.

  Is it my face?

  He didn't exactly have much facial hair, but even if he did, he preferred to keep it shaved.

  “Well now it’s like you’re dating a boy.”

  “We've never dated,” Nicolas told him. “And who cares what my friends do with their lives.”

  Drake grinned, as if he had just thought of another world's funniest joke, but Nicolas didn't want to hear it. “Anyways…” he added before Drake could make him angrier than he already was, “…if you want to talk bad about my friends, do it somewhere else.”

  “Geez, chill out bro, can't you take a joke?”

  “Not when it's about my friends.”

  “Whatever,” Drake stood up, food tray in hand. “See ya, Nico.”

  Nicolas watched him leave without saying anything.

  I heard your girlfriend wants to be a boy.

  Normally, Nicolas would’ve considered this to be just another pointless, random rumor. However, the reason why even Nicolas was starting to believe this one, was because it was Ash themselves who started it.

  ***

  Nicolas was the only person in the whole school—if not the whole city, who knew how much Ash wished to have short hair. So he was also the least surprised to learn that they’d gone into a barbershop two weeks ago, and came out with hair shorter than even Nicolas’.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he saw them that happy.

  The bullying only got worse of course, but it went from bad to worse, when Ash made a post on social media: And suddenly, it would seem as if the whole world was talking about them.

  ____________

  @_Br0kenpyrite made a new post:

  “As you all know, I've recently cut my hair, a decision that's given me more courage than I've had in a long time. It's the first decision I've made that's actually felt like mine, and it’s left me with this strange, euphoric feeling that I can’t explain.

  I don’t think any of you realize how hard it is to feel like you’re trapped inside other people's perception of who you are. Being trapped by who people think you are, when they don’t know you like you do.

  Cutting my hair was really scary, but once I worked up the courage to actually go to the barber shop, it was like everything suddenly became so much easier; like finally stepping out of the cage you’ve spent your whole life trapped in, or like stepping on a different planet for the first time.

  Now, you're probably wondering why I'm bringing this up in the first place. After all, letting all this drama just blow over would probably be the sanest thing to do.

  But I guess I’m not sane, because here I am, typing this out for the world to see.

  I’m nonbinary.

  Some of you know what that means, but a lot of you likely don’t, so I’ll explain it the best I can for those who may be confused.

  Being called a girl feels to me like trying to put a circle-shaped block through a square shaped hole. No matter how many people try to argue about chromosomes, genitals, or hormones, it’s like the word “girl” doesn’t seem to fit me the way it fits other people. Like a nametag placed on the wrong person.

  When I was six-years-old, I made a birthday wish that I never told anyone, because I desperately wanted it to come true.

  I wished to be a boy.

  So, I started going by a boy’s name online, and whenever people asked about my gender, I always told them I was a boy.

  But as I began to get older, and puberty seemed to destroy my body with one that felt alien to me, that feeling of certainty became replaced with confusion.

  It was like all of the sudden, I wasn’t sure if anything fit, like being called a boy felt just as strange to me as being called a girl, and they both equally left me feeling tortured in my own skin, and bound by how society decides boys or girls are supposed to be. And when I asked myself, “would I be happy if I was born male,” I realized that, I really wouldn't. It felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere, like I’m not a girl, but I’m not fully a boy, either.

  But maybe I don’t have to play by what society considers to be normal, maybe I don’t have to fit in the box at all.

  I’m not a girl, and I’m not a boy; I’m just me, and my name is Ash Shapiro.

  Getting my haircut was terrifying, because I knew people were going to react like this.

  But the freedom I felt—that euphoria of being myself—it made the fear seem worth it somehow. So even though I’m terrified of posting any of this, I know that one day, I'll look back, and see that everything’s okay.

  Because I’m tired of being trapped in other people's version of me.

  So now, I'll make sure they see my true self.

  And I’m never going back.”

  Comments: 16      Likes: 4

  ____________

  “Nicolas, call me when you get this message.

  Please.

  It’s important.”

  Nicolas read Ash’s message again, and again, and again, trying not to let his brain think of the worst. He was sitting in Director Park, the teacher's fountain glowing behind him as it filled his ears with the rain-like sound he’d grown to love. It was like his version of classical music.

  He called Ash, and seconds later, they answered.

  “Hey.”

  “Are you okay?” Nicolas couldn’t stop himself from asking. “I’ve been worried about you, where are you?”

  “Hiding,” they replied.

  “From what?”

  They sniffled, and for a moment, the only sound coming out of the phone was the silent hiss of an open line. “Everyone it seems. It feels like the whole world hates me.”

  “Why would anyone hate you?”

  Ash tried to speak, but as their words came out, they coughed, as if choking on their own tears; and the sound hurt Nicolas’ heart. “Because society hates failures,” they said at last. “And I’m the biggest failure of them all.”

  “You’re not a failure,” Nicolas told them, wishing he was able to say something to help the way Ash always seemed to do. But he didn’t know how; he didn’t know how to comfort people, or talk to them in a way that calms them. Ash had that skill, Nicolas did not.

  “I am. I’m a failure at being a girl, failure at being a boy, and a failure at being—whatever the hell I am—and now even the adults at school keep calling me a girl- all- the- time- and I wish they would just stop it already.”

  Nicolas wasn’t sure what to say to that. His gender was always one of those things he just never really thought about, like being a guy was just, what he was, and he never had any problems with that. Although there were definitely aspects of masculinity that he found to be completely pointless and stupid.

  "I'm not going back," Ash’s voice cut through the radio silence.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean I’m leaving school." Over the phone, Nicolas could hear what sounded like a sniffle, though it was quiet, as if Ash had covered the phone or something in an attempt to prevent him from hearing.

  “Where are you?” he asked. “I’ll be right there.” Nicolas knew that Ash hated crying in front of people, but something told him that Ash needed him.

  “Somewhere,” they replied. Then, their tone changed. “I’m okay, don’t worry about me.”

  Nicolas knew this trick. It wasn’t the first time they’d suddenly pretend that they’ve gotten better. It reminded Nicolas of when he was younger; whenever he was sick, he would suddenly “feel fine” when his mom would mention taking him to the doctor.

  “I’m always going to worry,” Nicolas told them. “Where are you?”

  “I’m safe,” was all they replied, their voice sounding almost cheerful: There wasn’t a hint of evidence that they were just crying, which gave Nicolas a bad feeling.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m here if you still need someone to talk to.” Nicolas stood up from where he had been sitting. “I’ll just be waiting right here.”

  “Don’t try looking for me, alright?” Ash told him. “I said I’m okay.”

  “Alright, I won’t.” But this was a lie, because Nicolas was already walking.

  During most circumstances, he would have felt guilty for lying; but the thought of Ash being alone right now scared him more than the thought of them being mad at him.

  And he had a feeling he knew exactly where they were.

  ***

  Nicolas turned off the trail, cutting straight through the woods, in what would’ve seemed like a random direction to someone who didn’t know where they were going. He continued through the dark forest until the shadowy blur of old wood and brick came into view ahead. Somehow, he knew Ash was there. It was like they had a sixth sense, able to always know where each other was, or knowing what the other was thinking. Of course, Nicolas didn't actually believe in anything paranormal or supernatural. His aunt used to take him to church sometimes, before his mother died; but his belief in God was the same as his belief in Santa. He used to believe, because that's what kids do when they're told that something is true. However, as he got older, that belief slowly disappeared like a candle burning out. Now, he didn't believe in anything like that. How could God see what's happening, but do nothing to stop it?

  Nicolas' foot collided with something hard in the grass, sending a jolt of pain through his toes. The rest of his body continued forward until he landed face first into the cold, wet grass.

  "Stupid rock," Nicolas cursed under his breath, whispering louder than he intended.

  He stayed on the ground for a few moments, hoping Ash hadn’t heard his fall. The only sounds he heard were the crickets singing a symphony throughout the forest. After about a minute or two, Nicolas forced himself to stand, trying to ignore the pain pulsing in his foot where he’d kicked the rock Ash had nicknamed Nicolas’ gravestone, for this very reason. It wasn’t the first time Nicolas had tripped on the rock, and something told him it wouldn’t be the last, either.

  Once he was on his feet, he continued toward the abandoned house. As he made it to the front door, he began up the steps leading to it; the concrete blocks looked old enough to be the walls of some ancient temple or something.

  The front door looked just as old, the wood discolored with different shapes of browns all mixed together, along with patches of green and black from moss and mold.

  The door never opened or closed. Instead, it was always stuck, just barely open, leaving just enough room for a small person to squeeze through. The top hinges had long since rusted away, leaving the rest of the door leaning into the floor, while the bottom hinge crumbled with dirt and rust that locked the metal in place.

  Nicolas pressed his hands against the door, sliding his fingertips across the cold, ancient-looking wood.

  He moved his head closer, slowly peeking into the old building. When he saw no lights inside, he continued onward, squeezing through the small gap between the door and the frame.

  Nicolas never knew how to describe the feeling of walking into the old place; it was still, quiet, calming: but there was a smell of old wood, mold, and grass in the air also; it was a warm smell. Whenever Nicolas tried to explain that to anyone, they always thought it sounded like a depressing, disgusting place to be. However, Nicolas never felt that way about the crowhouse. Maybe it was because he had spent countless days and nights here, just him and Ash, or maybe he just saw the beauty that no one else could see.

  “You said you wouldn’t come,” Ash’s voice surprised Nicolas, causing him to flinch.

  “I was worried about you,” he replied, taking another step into the cold building.

  It always reminded him of a haunted house. While Nicolas never saw ghosts, or anything like that here, the way the house looked reminded him of how haunted houses always looked in movies and cartoons. Busted windows, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, trees growing so close that they scratched along the sides when it was windy.

  “I’m fine,” Ash told him, though Nicolas didn’t believe them.

  “Where are you?” he asked, looking around. It was completely dark; Nicolas and Ash never needed any light, because they knew the place like the back of their hands.

  “Over here,” they replied, and Nicolas turned his head toward where the old dusty couch was.

  “What happened?” he asked as he moved toward Ash’s voice. It wasn’t often that Ash cried, at least not as far as Nicolas knew, but he could tell that they’d been crying now.

  “I told you,” their voice cracked. “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes then.” Nicolas sat down on the couch, beside them.

  Neither of them said anything for a few moments. The silence felt strange: Usually, it seemed as if Nicolas and Ash’s minds were connected; like they could read each other's thoughts and emotions and feelings, even when they couldn’t find the words to express them.

  This was one of the rare occasions where it wasn’t like that.

  “I can’t go back to school,” they said at last, almost breathing the words out. “I won’t go back. I’m switching to homeschooling.”

  “Is homeschool even a real thing?”

  “Apparently,” they replied, before adding, “but that’s not exactly what I wanted to talk about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  They took a deep breath, hesitating for a while before finally answering him. “I’m moving to Seattle.”

  Out of all the things Nicolas expected, that was definitely not on the list.

  “What?! When?!”

  “Tomorrow morning. My uncle said I could stay with him for a while, and he leaves tomorrow.”

  Nicolas’ heart seemed to stop beating as his brain fully registered what Ash was telling him.

  It was like all of his hope for the future—hope that maybe everything would be okay—it all shattered around him, and now he was at a dead end.

  Silence fell upon them, along with that strange, uncomfortable feeling of disconnect that Nicolas only ever remembered feeling one other time, in this very place.

  Ash was his only friend, the only person who cared about him. A selfish part of him wished there was something he could do to prevent them from leaving, but he knew this wasn’t his decision, it was Ash’s.

  I don’t want to be alone.

  “I’ll miss you,” he told them, swallowing as he blinked his eyes in an attempt to prevent himself from crying.

  “I’ll miss you too,” Ash replied.

  Nicolas pulled them closer, wrapping his arms around them in a tight hug; the tightest hug he could possibly give. His heart was racing at the thought of his best friend—his only friend—moving away, but he refused to let Ash see his pain. He remembered the fear he felt when Kane stalked him; how it felt like he was no longer safe in his own home. He remembered the messages that had been put on Ash’s locker, and the pointless lies being spread about them daily.

  If I had a chance to escape, wouldn’t I take it as well?

  “I’ll come and visit as often as I can,” they added through Nicolas’ embrace, and he smiled as their breath warmed his hoodie, although he had a strange feeling they wouldn’t see each other for a long, long time.

  “Until then,” Ash said as Nicolas released them for what felt like the last time in his life: “Goodbye, Nicolas.”

  Thank You for Reading !!!

  New Chapters every Monday! (when I remember lol)

  ~Ellie Wallace