Angel’s scream echoes throughout the darkness, and with a heavy gasp, a little boy’s eyes snap open.
His breath catches in his throat.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9G2Wev8eT7
Just a dream.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWYpxwQ5DOF
But it still clings to him, like a shadow under his skin.
His wide eyes meet a pair of soft, color-shifting ones belonging to a miniature Siberian husky with silver fur, dusted in pastel chalks of every hue. The dog is perched on the boy’s chest, staring down at him as if he’d been watching over him the whole time.
The boy cringes as the pup rubs a cold nose across his cheek. It feels like icy water splashing on bare skin. The dog lets out a low whine, as though he knows how the boy feels.
Boy: (grunting with one eye half-shut) Hey boy… I’m fine. (He wraps one arm around the pup.)
The dog growls; a soft, stubborn sound, then pounces on his chest and launches a whirlwind of licks onto the boy’s face. He squirms beneath him like he’s drowning in puppy kisses.
Boy:Hey, hey, hey! Chalk! (He lifts the dog into the air, frowning.) I said I was okay! I don’t want your dirty kisses!
Chalk, the loyal, adorable chaos machine, lets his tongue flop out in a teasing grin.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJWUYaA75LE
The boy smirks, shaking his head.
Boy:Oh yeah? You think you’re funny? Bad dog!
He flops backward, trapping Chalk under him with all his weight. Chalk’s eyes go wide and he thrashes like he’s being crushed. The boy fights to keep him pinned, laughing mischievously as the dog wriggles like mad until—
thud!
They both tumble out of bed.
Chalk instantly bounces back up, snapping playfully at the boy’s clothes, tail wagging at full speed. The boy shoves his snout away, still laughing.
Boy:Okay, okay! We’re even!
Chalk leaps into his lap. He hugs the dog tightly, ruffling his fur. But then, slowly, his smile fades. His bright expression dims as his eyes lift and scan the room.
From the nightmare… to this place.
His gaze drifts across the rows of bunk beds, all of them empty. He’s the last one up.
He stands up. The clock says it’s about 7:30 a.m.
He looks down at his feet. He's still wearing his red Monsta Street footie pajamas, decorated in blue, green, and orange with patches of his favorite monster characters. One plush monster, Zip, peeks from the front pocket. His hood has two button eyes, just like Zip’s.
He clutches his stomach as hunger creeps in. With a sigh, he looks up, shaking his head.
As much as he hates socializing and would rather hide in his room until the caregivers find him and put him in time out, he can’t miss breakfast today.
He opens the colorful dresser drawers. A bold label across them reads:17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIuZkgmatPP
“CRAYON.”
That’s this boy’s name.
He looks just like Angel; the boy from the dream, only younger. Around ten years old. His hair is shorter, just brushing over his shoulders, twisted into neat strands that had clearly been carefully done at some point; now a few hung loose and fuzzy, like he’d been running wild all morning. Still, not much else was different. The thing that stood out the most was the hauntingly realistic skull painted over his face, so real it sends a chill.
He grabs the first clothes he sees, paying no attention to fashion whatsoever, and rushes to get dressed.
In what seems like a blink, he’s pulling on a shoe while Chalk stuffs things into his Monsta Street backpack with his mouth. Crayon pulls on a red jacket and grabs the backpack on the way out. Chalk tumbles into it.
Crayon bursts out the door; backpack slung over one shoulder, hanging open, with a dog clinging for dear life inside. He has one overall strap unbuckled and one shoe untied.
Perfectly dressed for a productive day at school.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkA93Te1jpF
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“Dear Crystal,
I know you remember yesterday, I mean how could you forget right? Just another terrible episode to add to my series. You made me look crazy again! Well… It’s not your fault I would never blame anything on you baby sis.
I made up my mind though, I’m not telling anyone anything ever again. Only you, because you’re the only one who has ever understood me. Everybody else sucks… I mean maybe I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did. But if you could see the looks these gremlins give me.”17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2Q42bGUKVs
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Crayon rushes down the hallway. The air is thick with the warm scent of waffles; underneath it, the familiar tinge of old paint and fresh crayons. The good morning smell of NWCCOYA (New Wave Community Center of Young Arts) always hits like a strange blend of comfort and chaos: food and art supplies.
He halts mid-step. Two girls are approaching. They both have warm, even chocolate-brown skin and wear confidence like it’s natural. They chat quietly, heads tilted toward each other, but fall silent when they see him.
Crayon’s eyes flick between them. One has brown hair dipped into a peachy orange toward the ends, like sherbet waves caught mid-swish. That’s Luna. The other’s hair is a striking dark blue, her violet eyes sharp and curious. That’s Lavinia.
The girls glance at each other. Then Lavinia speaks.
Lavinia: Are—are you okay?
Crayon narrows his eyes.
He knows what this is about. Yesterday.
Crayon: (No hesitation. He steps in just slightly, close enough to rattle her but not enough to invade.) No… (His voice is low. He tilts his head slightly, gaze locked.)Why? You scared, little girl? Huh? (He gives a slow, subtle smirk.)You should be.
There’s a beat.
Lavinia blinks, lips parting like she might respond. She doesn’t.
Crayon lets out a brief scoff and steps past without looking back. For a moment, something unreadable flickers across his face; maybe satisfaction. Maybe not.
Laughter echoes behind him. He doesn’t turn around. He squints slightly and keeps walking.
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“Especially the stupid stupid girls, they're such idiots… I think they’re all scared of me. And the ones that pretend not to be… they’re the worst. It’s like they’re playing some sick twisted game that I don’t know the rules to. Tsch, well I can play games too. I give them something to be scared of, something to laugh at, only they might be crying instead of laughing.”
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He pushes his body sideways through the swing doors of the cafeteria or “The EatEats” as the sign is labelled. The last few people are already rushing out to the playground for the little early morning playtime they can sneak in before class.
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“But anyways, speaking about dreams. I had that one, about the Widow of woe and the guy named Death. This one comes every month since I got here, it never fails. It's not like I’m scared of it but, it is kind of bone chilling. Like what does it mean? It seems like every dream I have means something, this one can’t be good can it?”
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A lady leaned on the service counter with her elbows and her face leaned in her hands, Mariana (Mah - ree- auna). She has even toned caramel skin and curly hair hanging just over her shoulders, her nails very long and delicate. She has her eyes on Crayon since he stepped in, she smirks.
Mariana: ¡Oye, chico lindo! (Aye, Pretty Boy!)
Her voice catches his attention but her words go over his head. He hesitates a moment before walking up to the counter.
Crayon: I want waffles.
Mariana: Ay, sorry love. (stands straight tilting her head smiling at him) I’m afraid we’re all out.
Crayon: What? Impossible! (squints as if he's trying to see through her) I just smelt them cooking.
Mariana: You just missed the last batch. Maybe if you woulda got up early like I told you, then maybe?
Crayon: I tried lady!
Mariana lets out a low chuckle turning away from the counter walking over to an oven, she pulls a pan out.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOHYp7TWOuz
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Crayon: Tsch, whatever… (starts to walk away)
Mariana: Aught! (turns around with a plate of food) I made you something better.
Crayon stops and looks at her taken back and distrusting at the same time.
Mariana: You like french toast sticks don't you?
He looks at the plate of fresh hot french toast sticks and syrup with silent desire.
Mariana: Well take it! (insists on nudging him with it) We got class, and we’re gonna have a lot going on. So while you're at it, after you get done eating get whatever early morning recess exercise you can grab got it?
Crayon: (the nudge made him budge like he lost his balance for a brief second he looks from the plate to her taking it) Thanks… (he frowns a little flustered and rushes off without much to say)
He heads straight for the exit doors that lead right out to the playground.
Mariana: Don’t take the plate—
Slam.
The door shuts before Mariana can finish her words.
Mariana: outside… (she drifts close to the window and cringes as she watches Crayon sit the plate on the ground. Him and Chalk share out of the same plate) Eww… boy. (she clicks her tongue in a quick rhythm shaking her head turning away)
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“But then again, if it means I could be with you then it just might be good. I’m sorry Crystal. You just don’t understand what I’ve been through since you’ve been gone. I’ve never been the same since that day to be honest.”
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In a flashback, Crayon lay on the floor, drenched in a pool of blood; some his, some not. Across from him, a little girl with dark brown skin and chestnut eyes struggled to breathe. Gunshot wounds marked them both.
With the last of his strength, he reached for her. 17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ7Deqfj574
Crystal, his little sister, clasped his hand. Her grip was weak, but certain.
They locked eyes. Just for a moment.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGJtlCpRqow
A moment that felt like forever.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsKTy6xFBKz
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“Once you were gone, Mommy became even more distant. I don’t blame her, because it was all my fault. I should’ve protected you Crystal. I’m sorry. I’m not a good big brother like I wanted to be. Because if I was, you would still be here. So I don’t blame her or you, I blame me.”
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Grief hung heavy in the air, as thick and unmoving as the grey clouds overhead. Mayana, a brown-skinned woman with chestnut eyes and wavy hair that fell to the middle of her back, wept into her hands, her shoulders trembling. Crayon knelt silently beside his mother, Mayana, unmoving.
Behind them, Cecelia (Cissy) stood with her hands clasped tightly behind her back, staring blankly ahead. The sadness in her expression quiet and deep, the kind that drained everything from a face except stillness.
Her skin was pale as snow, her eyes the color of a clear blue sky, and her straight, vanilla-blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. All three were dressed in black, gathered in front of Crystal’s grave.
Mayana clasped her hands, gazing up at the sky. Her grief spilled out in ragged sobs as she cried out to the Lord.
Mayana: Why, Lord? Why? Why did it have to be her? Why did you take my baby? (She lowered her head, sobs wracking her body. Her voice cracked, and in a trembling whisper—) Why...?
Her two children stared at her, her grief weighing heavy on them. The boy looked away from her at the grave adorned with flowers before him.
He had questions too; so many left unanswered. Some like hers. Some darker. But one clung to his chest like a stone.
Why?
His words hung in the air for several moments before he looked at his mother.
Crayon: Why did they do this? Why did they hurt us?
He survived that night, unlike little Crystal who succumbed to her injuries. His heart was heavy, he longed for comfort, for closure. Something he felt, but didn’t know the remedy to.
His mother had been carrying too much for too long. A single mother shouldering the world while raising three children: an eldest daughter with autism, the pain that preceded her son’s birth, and now this—the loss of her baby girl. Something inside her gave way.
She turned toward him, face twisted with anguish. It wasn’t sorrow in her eyes, it was something colder.
With a sharp gaze and a scowl, she snapped.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK8100wCb7z
Mayana: Why couldn’t it have been you?17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoyyJH3zvVM
Crayon’s heart shattered into a million pieces at that moment. He was hurt, confused, overwhelmed by things he couldn’t understand. Tears spilled from his eyes like water from a broken fountain, beyond his control. A reaction to a pain too heavy to bear.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡntWQXjfYKv
He sucked in a shaky breath that caught in his throat before escaping as small, desperate sobs.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKRC4uIVfNl
Crayon: I’m sorry, Mommy! I wish it was me too!17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJtyuKJu7vZ
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His last word stretched into a long, heartbreaking cry. He collapsed forward, head first onto the wet grass, overwhelmed by grief he couldn’t process.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6CerWQZYyj
Mayana stared at her little boy, broken before her eyes. Her thoughts raced, but her face remained stern, blank, unreadable. Her coldness had frozen over completely.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeg8ipmS26P
Cecilia’s eyes filled with grief and confusion. She knew her mother had gone too far, but she also felt for her little brother. With a look of disapproval, she called out sharply.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6hBFJC25cI
Cissy: Momma!17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK82RNWUNGg
But her mother, no longer in control, whipped around and pointed a finger sternly at her.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrAwEBC9R80
Mayana: You shut up!17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡegBwhT0Ozo
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Cissy flinched, blinking in shock.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXiYkZZbmBi
Mayana: I’m sick of this! (She stood abruptly.) I’m sick of all of this! From all of you!17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHA4HeFtjiy
With that, she stormed off through the cemetery, leaving her children behind.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQDj10JSRSy
Cissy hesitated, torn between following and staying. Her body froze, face heavy with sorrow. Then, she looked down at her little brother, collapsed on the ground, crying so hard he could barely breathe.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzwt7TIpLmm
She felt for him deeply and searched for words to comfort him, but none came.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNR22ADt1cU
Instead, she remained silent, standing there as the heavens began to weep with him.
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“Mom didn’t throw parties for a while after you were gone. I think ‘cause of what happened last time she had one. But then she started up again. Did I tell you that’s how I got in my accident?
Some of Mom’s punk-pack friends were hanging around and I guess they were bored or drunk or just jerks. I was walking home and a bunch of them , grown men, started messing with me. Real funny, huh? Picking on a little kid. I tried to ignore them, but they kept saying stuff and laughing. One of them shoved me into the street.
That’s when the car hit me.”17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Wu5RJvbk6
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Crayon, no older than eight, gripped his backpack straps like armor as he made his way down the sidewalk toward home. Even from the corner, the music roared so loud it rattled the windows, shook the trees, and seemed to pulse under his shoes.
He walked fast but carefully, like someone trying not to be seen; hoping to pass through the shadows draped across the lawn and porch, where strangers laughed too loud and stared too long.
Just before he could step onto the lawn, shadows blocked his path. A group of guys, some barely older than kids, some old enough to be fathers, stepped in front of him. Their laughter sticky and sharp. 17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTRVSPZNky3
One leaned in too close, his breath sour with beer and something else.
Punk#1: Hey little man, you lost?
The rest cackled like it was the best joke they’d ever heard.
Crayon froze. He clutched his backpack straps tighter. His heart thudded so loud he thought maybe the music could hear it too.
Crayon: (muttering) Leave me alone…17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvzRqI1YXzB
Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he felt it.
Their eyes didn’t look right.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXrnRdGqWvl
Their smiles weren’t real.
Punk #1: (stepping closer) Nah, c’mon, we’re just playing. Where’s your mom, huh?
That’s when Crayon turned his head, heart thudding in his chest, and screamed as loud as he could—
Crayon:MOMMY!!!
They laughed.
Punk #2: Ohh, you hear that?
Punk #3: Little guy’s scared.
Punk #1: (mocking) “Mommyyy!”
One nudged him just enough to make him stumble. Another grabbed at his backpack and let go like it was a joke.
Crayon tried to break away, but their voices were getting louder, more mocking. He couldn’t tell if they were playing or something worse, but his body was frozen between running and collapsing.
Then—17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJzgj2Oxa2L
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A push too strong.
His feet scraped against the sidewalk, and he stumbled backward— into the street.
Headlights.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZkYN7X1xMI
A horn.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdzuyivQSUc
A scream.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk5JdPPqBEw
Then nothing.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwhDMrLPhV2
Just darkness, pulsing and strange.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWsB5uG1CAW
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“That’s how I lost my eye. I can’t see out of it anymore, and when I do… I don’t want to. The things I see they’re far from normal. Well my eye doesn’t even look normal anymore."17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEweDhoWKJP
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Then—17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhdgL7rWH5i
A voice, loud and far away but somehow right in his skull:17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuGyxIzGg1x
ANGEL!!!17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡejF3yMeQj5
His mother’s voice called out.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡabiPucjzO3
When he opened his eyes, everything felt off.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO58qRZov5l
Wrong.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdqWVKeQ4jz
Unreal.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR67Ezkmk4D
The faces above him; his mother, the punk men, a few others gathering looked twisted. Their skin pale and warped, their smiles stretched too wide. Eyes glowing in odd ways. Like demons trying to wear human faces.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNUikgA1BXJ
Crayon’s body was shaking, scraped and bloodied. His left eye burned; a wet, stinging heat.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2M9joLDhLG
He reached up, dazed, and touched under it.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0q0uW7AppQ
His fingers came back red.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ7rCY1lqPg
And as he blinked, everything on that side of his vision had turned tinted and strange.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5vXxJZAReo
His reflection in a cracked car window showed it:17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH8HRjJoXwi
His left eye was glowing red, and the whites had darkened to black.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM5OD5lqLJk
He didn’t wait.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA366EjVIEY
Didn’t speak.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡup8Ka6NA3s
He ran.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE82n9xKpdt
He didn’t care where; just away from their voices, their eyes, their claws reaching for him.
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“They say it’s just Traumatic Optic Neuropathy that causes trauma-induced pareidolia. Haha. You’d probably freak out if you knew how many big words I’ve learned by now.
Anyway, I don’t know what it really is but. it makes me look like a monster. I used to think it would go away. It would come and go, only flaring up sometimes, usually just to make one of my worst days get... well, worse. But now? I think it’s here to stay.
I think that’s the main reason people are scared of me. This inhuman eye. This big scar across my face like I’m Frankenstein.
Not that I care. Nobody likes me either way. So, If I’m meant to be the underdog, the lone wolf...
So be it.”
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Present day
Ten-year-old Crayon sits on the playground in a daze, his memories replacing the world around him.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW5oj1zmQht
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A single French toast stick dangles from his mouth as he absentmindedly ties one of his shoes.
Loose twists; purposefully pulled free, hang over his left eye like a curtain, hiding a scar he wishes could be forgotten.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCdPbwwAPDX
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“And that’s how I ended up here. But to save you the dramatics ‘cause it’s a long story, I’ve been shuffled around for years, from place to place, like a stray mutt no one wants to call their own. Now I’m here, who knows for how long.
I’ve been waiting for Mom to come get me, but… Honestly? I’m starting to think she’s forgotten all about me.”
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A shadow moves over him and then—
BONG!17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIpIo82DKFI
A soccer ball slams into the metal fence behind him. It rattles , sounding like a gong. Vibrating throughout his whole body.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡujqh0ZRlU7
He flinches hard, startled.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi4LXXKuT9r
The last French toast stick slips from his mouth.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6qhbWUMISP
Then, he freezes.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkjOvWAYO0i
His whole body stiffens, unmoving.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOrc6hF2FU8
It’s not fear.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB87zHu6jxQ
It’s something else.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx64nwNsdpH
The ball bounces back down beside him, hitting the ground with a repeated thud.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcjfdKbNvAQ
His lips stretch thin.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6gkE53BbOh
His hands tremble.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKiVdoYPuzI
A shadow flickers over his eyes.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSRo5zDygpX
Footsteps rush toward him.
“Now I’m here in a stupid place named something stupid because someone was too stupid to think of a good name. They literally named it New Wave Community Center for Young Arts, pfft they call this place a haven for creativity? And they couldn’t even think of a creative name? Does that disturb anyone but me?
Of course not, because I’m surrounded by idiots.”
Three boys appear.
The one in front steps forward. He's tan-skinned, full head of thick, curly blue-and-red hair, and matching mismatched eyes; Rafi’el.
Rafi’el:Hey, sorry about the ball, bro.
Crayon rises abruptly, grabbing the ball. 17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ697UTX1tC1
Now face to face with Rafi’el, he gives a slow, empty smile.
Crayon: Do you wanna die or something?
Another boy steps in, clearly Rafi’el’s friend; Orion.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsYUxhTxUkh
He’s brown-skinned, with short blue braids, sharp red eyes, and a strange face mask like a doctor’s.
Orion: Hey, it was an accident.
Rafi’el: (still calm, good-spirited) Yeah, for real. I didn’t mean to hit you.
Crayon pauses, reconsidering.
The fire in his eyes dims, but a flicker still burns.
He shoves the ball into Rafi’el’s chest; not rough, but not gentle either.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiWrvRfa7kI
Their eyes lock.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO8ogpyZI3X
Crayon:Watch where you aim next time.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK1dwOtCcTY
FWEEEEEET!
A loud whistle blasts through the air.
Mariana, the woman from the cafeteria earlier, strides across the yard like she owns the place; hands on her hips, earrings swaying, clipboard in hand.
Mariana: Let’s go, babies! Move those little butts! Class ain’t gonna come to you!
Rafi’el drops the ball. The kids immediately rush toward her. Crayon stays put, watching.
Mariana claps her hands loud and fast with sass.
Mariana: ¡Muévanse, tortugas con azúcar! Si no, me los llevo en mi bolsa como dulces derretidos. (Move it, sugar turtles! Or I’ll toss you in my purse like melted candy.)
The kids burst into laughter as they run past her, some yelling back playfully on their way inside.
Crayon glances back, distracted by a soft rumble; the sound of a car pulling up. He slowly walks toward the metal bar fence, squinting through it.
A sleek, dark blue Mercedes van pulls up.
The sliding door opens, and out steps Twilight, unloading more kids. Some older, some younger, some big, some small. A few are already talking a mile a minute, loud and rambunctious, while others are quiet, unreadable, their eyes scanning the yard with guarded curiosity.
Crayon watches quietly.
Mariana: (snapping her fingers) ¡Oye! El mundo no va a esperarte, niño bonito. (Hey! The world’s not gonna wait for you, pretty boy.)
Crayon exhales a soft sigh through his nose.
Crayon: I don’t even know what you’re saying, lady.
Mariana: (still snapping) Chop chop.
Crayon rolls his eyes, glancing down at Chalk, who’s still licking the syrup off his plate like a starved cartoon dog.
Crayon: C’mon, Chalk.
He drags his feet, slinging his body forward as he heads inside. Chalk trots after him. Mariana follows, letting out a low giggle.
“And now, it looks like even more dummies are moving in. Don’t we have enough of those? And I bet you Twilight’s gonna stuff them right in my room, as if I don’t deal with enough already… This is going to be one heck of a day, I can see it now.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcH2aKdBPlX
