#heavy rain plot

[littlemilesedgeworth]

[[Date: ??? Time: ??? Location: ???]]

O-okay....I...

Imma do it....

Imma break out...today....

Just....gotta think of a plan. Mhm.

Cause....the bars on the ceiling are all the way up there...and I'm all the way down here....

...how am I gonna reach them...hmmm....

[littlemilesedgeworth]

[[Date: ??? Time: ??? Location: ???]]

[The water was getting higher every minute. His feet were soaked; he was so cold. What was going on? Somebody was going to take the water out...right? He was beginning to panic again...]

I-It's cold...

There's...there's water in here...a lots of it...!

I-I'm hungry...!

I-Is there anyone there??

I'm really hungry!!

Please let me out...!

...........

I wanna go home...I miss mommy and daddy...

......I wanna go home...I miss mommy and daddy...

...........

....Mommy....daddy....wh-where are you.....I miss you....

...........

...................

....p-please...!

Please!!

Let me out!!

I WANNA GO HOOOOOMMMMEEE!!!

[gregoryedgeworth]

The Bear (Part 2)

“You have reached your destination.

Are you ready to show your courage in order to save your son?”

No matter how much he speculated, he could never be prepared for what he heard next, however.

“Listen carefully.

Take the highway and drive against the traffic for five miles. If you haven’t reached your destination in five minutes, you will have failed.”

It felt as if something heavy had just been dropped at the pit of his stomach. Nausea began to wash over him as fear among many other emotions began settling in. Did he just hear that right? Did the contraption truly just tell him to drive against the traffic? That was insane! It was not his life alone that he would endanger but the lives of others as well! The risks of dying driving like a speed demon in this weather was high enough and to drive against the flow of traffic for five miles in under five minutes?! How would he even find it in himself to do such a thing?

The trembling of his fingers was such a large contrast compared to the steady steering wheel, which he had been gripping tightly. He was, quite obviously—and he wasn’t afraid to admit it—terrified. Nothing in his job description required him to be prepared for any challenge like this one. Though he had always been prepared for any possible dangers that being a defense attorney could bring, this was something that was definitely something that he would not have expected to do in his lifetime. And what terrified him more was the possibility that this trial may be the last thing he would ever do.

His right hand left the steering wheel to retrieve his wallet from his pocket. With hands still shaking incredibly, he opened his wallet and simply stared at the picture of his son smiling brightly at him. What he would do to see that smile again—what he would do to see his son safe and well. He swore that he would do anything but the fear was crippling him. He was not only afraid for his life but he was more concerned on the damage he would cause to the lives of unsuspecting people who were perhaps just on their way home to meet and eat dinner with their own families.

The defense attorney buried his face in his hands, unable to come to a swift decision regarding the whole trial. There were four more trials left and… what if the trials were set in increasing difficulty? He highly doubted that this would be the hardest one there was. He grunted in frustration and pounded his fist on the steering wheel. Taking any longer in deciding would mean that he would mean that Miles wouldn’t be saved soon.

He closed his eyes and took several deep intakes of breath to calm his mind and emotions. If he didn’t do this, then Miles would have no chance. But if he did, he would risk endangering his life and the life of others. Gregory had always been a decisive person, quick to think of the pros and cons and quick to come up with the logical solution behind everything. However, this seemed to be one great exception. Everything was personal and to abandon this trial would seem like he would be abandoning his son.

What’s one life to the lives of all the others?

But this one life was his son’s. Miles Edgeworth was his pride and joy—his whole world. If he lost his only son, he didn’t know what would happen to him. He would be so broken. And yet if he lost his life and caused the death of many others, what would become of his son as well? He didn’t think he could live with the guilt of being the one at fault for the loss of innocent lives.

“M-Mommy! Daddy! Where are you?”

His son’s voice resounded in his head and that was all it took for him to come to a decision. He looked back at the road, his fear somehow replaced with a newfound determination. He had to do this. He had to. For his son. He would just have to put his driving skills to the test. He prayed that the authorities would soon block off the road to stop other cars from making it through.

He shifted gears and took his own cellphone from his pocket, dialing a certain number and letting it go straight to voice mail since he honestly knew that he wouldn’t have it in him to keep up a casual conversation with anyone.

“Milia. It’s Gregory. I’m just calling to say that…”

Gregory swallowed the lump forming in his throat, his eyes beginning to sting with tears at all the emotions raging in him. Fear, anger, sadness, hopelessness, guilt, remorse—all mixed in with that strange determination which was the only thing giving him courage.

“… I love you and I miss you, dear.” Gregory opened his mouth to say so much more; he wanted to say so much more, to apologize about keeping things from her and for her to forgive him. That he wanted nothing more but her support and for her to be with him in such trying times.  But he couldn’t find it in him anymore; the lump in his throat had already returned. He ended the call and sniffled softly as he drove towards the highway.

The car he was driving soon emerged in the highway, facing against incoming traffic. He took a deep breath and pressed the screen of the GPS, which triggered a timer to appear on the corner of its screen.

“You have five minutes to finish the trials.

You still have five miles to go before you reach your destination.”

Gregory clenched his jaw and pushed his right foot down hard on the gas pedal, speeding off against all cars on the highway. The rain was falling heavily at that moment; his windshield wiper could barely keep up with the downpour. Spotting headlights from the distance, he quickly turned to the direction where he could not see any cars.

His heart was beating fast and loudly and all he could do was to focus on the road ahead of him. He did not want to involve anyone in this twisted game. Loud and angry honking met him whenever he passed by a vehicle on the highway—sounds he wished to ignore to keep his concentration. His breathing was heavy and the adrenaline pumped into his system.

“You can do this, Gregory! Focus!”

Car after car got in his way soon after and he cursed loudly as his choices of places to turn diminished greatly. This was something he could not help; it was such a busy highway, after all. But he had already started and there was no way that he was going to turn back. He quickly turned the car to the right, with it sliding far too much because of the lack of friction caused by the heavy rain. His foot alternated between slamming his foot on the brakes and accelerating the car with the gas pedal. The driver of an approaching ten wheeler truck honked the horns at him and all the attorney could do was dodge off to the center of the road where more cars could be seen approaching.

“You still have four miles to go before you reach your destination.”

He immediately turned the steering wheel to the left to dodge a sedan driving towards him. One mile done—four more miles to go. He had to continue. He has been doing fine so far and if he continued at this pace, then he would finish the trial successfully soon enough. Just keep focusing, Greogry.

That was what he thought until he spotted a man replacing his tire at the side of the road. More expletives left his lips as he veered his car towards the right, causing its side to clash into an approaching van. He gritted his teeth and turned slightly to the left to avoid crashing entirely and failing the trial. His heart continued to pound loudly as he accelerated the car to almost 70 miles per hour. The loud honking of horns from behind him were beginning to fade but were soon replaced by the honking of horns of those cars which he was driving towards.

Swerving to the left, then to the right to avoid all the cars, Gregory simply tried to drown out the voice in his head which was telling him to look back at the damage that he had caused. He barely avoided another truck coming his way, though the impact nearly knocked the wind out of his lungs and caused the car to move to the left where incoming traffic was heavy.

“Fuck!”

Greogry hastily turned the steering wheel to the right, narrowly avoiding colliding with the cars. He could have sworn that at that instant, his life began flashing before his eyes. Shaking his head feverishly, he continued on down the highway.

“You still have three miles to go before you reach your destination.”

Two miles down and three more to go. He was still alive and all the others that he had passed on the road—he preferred not to think about that at the moment. Nothing should distract him from reaching the destination. He could feel the bile rising up to his throat, which he tried to quell for now was not the time to feel sick to his stomach.

Gregory floored the gas pedal and sped down the highway towards more headlights, which he swiftly tried to avoid. Doing so led him to the left side where road construction was being done. He looked to his right to see if there was any way that he could avoid it. However, the advancing cars were far too much for him to make his turn, leaving him no choice at all but to strike his hand down on the horn and hope that the workers would get out of the way.  

Luckily, the workers were alert enough to jump out of the way as he approached. There was no time for him to sigh in relief when he had left the side of the road as more incoming cars got in his way. He turned accordingly, some being avoided cleanly but some others scratching the car at the side. As long as the damage was not anything major, then he would continue to press on.

“You still have two miles to go before you reach your destination.”

“Just two more miles. Just two more miles. Just two more miles.” Gregory continued to repeat that to himself as he continued to drive through the highway. The cars were decreasing greatly; perhaps the cops had blocked the path and were informed of his dangerous actions. He swerved the car to his left and his eyes could only widen in shock as a car without its headlights on was on the lane that he had turned to. “Shit!” was all he could say before the inevitable collision occurred despite how quickly and desperately he had turned the steering wheel. Fortunately, the collision was not head-on since the driver of the car managed to turn as well. He silently uttered an apology as he pushed down on the gas pedal and went down the road as if nothing had happened.

The attorney was quite visibly shaken by the collision and he shook his head to regain focus on the span of road before him. If he loses focus once more, he could very well lose his life. He gripped on the steering wheel tightly and changed lanes as necessary. What appeared to be a toll gate was soon in sight and he honked his horn repeatedly to warn the cars to get out of his way. He sped through the toll gate where he was met with more loud horns beeping at him, which he turned a deaf ear to.

“You still have one mile to go before you reach your destination.”

The last mile. It seemed as if he had been in this car for much longer than a few minutes. But then as he tried to recall all that’s happened, everything seemed to just a blur. He was almost finished with this damn blasted first trial and it made him sick to think that there were four more of varying degrees of difficulty. A tunnel was in sight after a few seconds of driving and he knew that the fifth mile was just beyond the tunnel.  The tunnel however provided only two lanes instead of three, making it much more cramped and dangerous than the open road.

Two converging cars were occupying both lanes and he held his breath as he forcibly rammed the side of the car he was driving towards the cemented wall to avoid crashing into them.

“You have thirty seconds remaining to reach your destination.”

Gregory was alerted by the voice and he stepped on the gas pedal harder, trying to ignore the loud screeching that the car’s metal side made with the wall. Soon enough, he could see the rain pouring at the exit of the tunnel and he knew that the end of the trial was in sight. However, he was met with some road workers (presumably contacted by the authorities) blocking off the road to prevent drivers from speeding off towards him. Gregory swerved to his left once he exited the tunnel towards the muddy field. The impact that the still accelerating car made with the ground was far too much for him to handle and his vision blurred for a few seconds.

“Destination reached. Please press the screen.”

“Destination reached. Please press the screen.”

Gregory parked the car far from the highway, where he was sure he would not be seen by anyone on the road. (“Destination reached. Please press the screen.”)The dazed defense attorney did as he was told. The adrenaline rush was dying down and only fatigue and nausea replaced it. His heart rate was still quite high but this was no time to worry about himself.

“Your reward is in the glove compartment. The key is inside the GPS.”

At that very moment, Gregory felt the rage fill him once more. How insulted he felt to have endangered his and so many lives for a reward that was within the car’s interior. He muttered a string of curses under his breath, knowing that if he had followed through with his instinct that the glove compartment was hiding something important—the kidnapper would see him through the surveillance camera and perhaps not provide him with any of the letters required for the hangman. He more than willingly took the GPS device and smashed it against the car’s dashboard, revealing a small key inside of it as it had mentioned previously. He opened the glove compartment which contained just the memory card inside. He grabbed it and exited the car as quickly as he could—but even that was such a daunting task. Gaining his footing after such a trial was difficult and Gregory found himself grabbing on to the car door for dear life.

Sirens could be heard in the nearby area as he made his way through the field. He found some tall grass that he could hide behind of. He bent down on his knees, and took out the mobile phone provided to him. The sirens were getting louder—whether ambulances or police cars, he couldn’t really tell. But he knew they were there because he decided to go through with the trial. He had most probably caused several car accidents—

He shook his head and inserted the memory card in the phone. A loading screen appeared once more and the same setting, the camera zooming into the drain and his son, Miles, crying out for help. The water was noticeably higher than it was and the boy was yelling for help.

“Miles…”

A loud sob escaped his lips as he saw four letters and one number appear on the hangman.

All of that hardship and danger for a bunch of letters. Letters that would lead him to his son’s location. The sirens persisted even after he had kept the mobile phone away. Just what was the extent of the damage he had caused? He didn’t have it in him to look.

Guilt and regret added to his nausea and he couldn’t help but retch all over the mud. He caught his breath seconds later, watching as the rain water washed away all evidences of his presence. Tears continued to flow down his cheeks, blurring his vision further.

How many people were hurt in his attempt to save his son?

How many people suffered for him to get four letters and a number?

Gregory stood up, his body swaying slightly as he made his way out of the field towards a direction which he knew would lead him back to his own car.

It was for Miles. He would do anything to save his son. He would have to deal with the guilt on a much later date, he thought as another wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him—but he fought it down. There was no time to get sick. There were still four more trials remaining.

[gregoryedgeworth]

Interlude

Alone in his car, Gregory took out his wallet, which was where he had inserted the claiming ticket to be used at the parking garage. He pulled it open and was instantly met by a picture of his son, taken a few years ago. Miles was smiling brightly at him. He remembered that it was taken when the boy first began wearing blazers and bow ties. It was Miles’s personal choice. He came up to Gregory one day and said he wanted to be dressed just like him. While Gregory was greatly amused and pleased by this, he didn’t want the boy to be uncomfortable so he told his son that he was too young to be dressed just like him so they would have to make some adjustments.

The memory of shopping for those clothes played in his mind—Miles insisted that he wanted a tie but Gregory told him that perhaps when he was older and after a while they had settled with a blazer, dress shirt, bow tie, and shorts ensemble. He recalled taking a picture of Miles when they got home. Miles was so proud to be in his new clothes; he just wouldn’t stop grinning and giggling in elation.

Since then, Gregory’s kept that picture in his wallet—something to give him strength in times that he was afraid or uncertain. There were moments when he would want to give up working on a certain case due to the lack of evidence to defend his client but then he would take a glimpse inside of that leather wallet and he would remember how much his son idolized him; how much the boy wanted to be like him. And he would not give up. He would press on so that he could be the man that his son sees and talks about so proudly to everyone.

Miles was his pride and joy and ever since his wife’s passing, all they ever had was each other. Miles grew up with just him as a parental figure and he often regretted having a busy schedule for work since it meant lesser time to bond with his son. But Miles is a bright child and he often understood why his dad would be away and would come back home late in the evening.

The frequency in which Miles talked so proudly about him was matched evenly by how much Gregory thought about Miles’s wellbeing. There were times in investigations that he would see something that reminded him of his son causing his thoughts to wander and it simply made him wish that it was already the weekend so he could spend a lot more time with him.

Ever since he was born, Miles became Gregory’s driving force. He had to provide his son a good life, he had to set a good example, he had to get out of the depression that his wife’s death had caused him to be in. He needed Miles. Perhaps just as much as Miles needed him.

With things looking so bleak, and with the possibility of losing his son just right there—Gregory was both at a loss and completely desperate to save his son. No such danger has presented itself before. He couldn’t say that he wasn’t prepared since as a defense attorney, he was bound to make enemies who would go after his loved ones. But now that he was thrust into that worst case scenario that he had imagined many times, he found that no amount of thinking or planning would ever be able to prepare him for this.

Miles was his everything. Miles was his world. And seeing that footage of his son crying out for his him and Milia—it made him feel so useless. What he would do to just instantly be by his side, to ensure his safety and to lock him in the tightest embrace—he would do anything and everything.

Whatever these trials would have in store for him, he would simply do his utmost. 

[gregoryedgeworth]

And so it begins

Now seated behind his desk, Gregory studied the contents of the box. He took the gun in his hand and found that it was fully loaded. He was more than capable of handling guns but he has not really found the need to recently. Its presence inside the box made him nervous—why would he need such a thing?

Gregory looked over the origami figures in the box. It reminded him of the paper crane left at his doorstep a few hours ago. It was most definitely a pattern. Why origami though? Was there a deeper meaning behind the kidnapper’s actions? Or was it more of some theme of some serial killer? Serial killers often did things with a noticeable pattern because they wanted to attract attention as well mostly caused by their deranged mental state. He swallowed and examined one of them closely. He noted that each one of the figures had a number written on it. Was he supposed to follow a set order in opening them? What if he opened all of them right away? Would the kidnapper know? He bit his lip as he tried not to get too lost in his thoughts—it was both a strength and a weakness; thinking ensured that he was looking at the problem from every possible angle, however, time was of the essence and he often lost track of time once his train of thought began running.

He took the figures and arranged them in order. A bear, a butterfly, a lizard, a shark and a rat. Perhaps instructions were inside the mobile that was provided to him. He grabbed the slightly outdated cellphone and took the memory card as well. He turned it on and inserted the memory card. A loading bar popped up, indicating that the phone was reading the card’s contents. After a few seconds, a video footage appeared on the screen.

The sound of trickling water coming into contact with a cemented floor reached his ears as he could only stare at the screen, taking in all of the details. What looked like a large drain came into view and Gregory gasped as he realized what was happening.

“M-mommy! Daddy! Where are you?”

The cries of a very familiar voice was heard even before the camera seemed to pan over to give a view of Miles trapped inside a drain which was slowly filling up with water. His breath caught and he choked out his son’s name as he stared at the screen with wide eyes. “M-Miles!”

“I want to go home! I want my mommy and daddy!”

Gregory’s hand trembled as he held the mobile phone tighter in his hand. His heart was racing at the mere sight of his son trapped—with his life in such obvious danger. What was going to happen? Did the kidnapper plan on drowning his son? His thoughts had gone awry, panic was beginning to set in. He forced himself to snap out of it as he saw text come up on the screen.

How far are you prepared to go to save someone you love?

Five origami figures. Each figure is a trial. Each trial provides you with letters. The letters reveal an address.

Once the screen went dark, Gregory pushed the phone to the side and immediately took the bear origami figure in his hand and opened it frantically.

ARE YOU PREPARED TO SHOW COURAGE TO SAVE YOUR SON?

JOE’S AUTO PARKS 215 S Broadway Los Angeles, CA

Enclosed in the origami figure was what appeared to be a claiming ticket for a car that was parked in the parking garage stated in the piece of paper.

There wasn’t any time to waste.

After gathering the remaining origami figures and placing them back in the box, Gregory hid the shoe box in his drawer and locked it. He pocketed the mobile phone and took the gun in his hand hesitantly. He may never know which trial he might need the gun but he silently prayed that he would never find the need to use it.

Gregory rushed out of his office as he slipped on his trench coat and hat. He vaguely recalled hearing in the news that a thunderstorm was predicted to occur. It was going to rain harshly throughout the evening if weather predictions were correct. Visibility was going to be low. He couldn’t find himself to care too much about that. The sound of rain fell deaf on his ears as it was simply drowned out by his son crying out for help. 

[littlemilesedgeworth]

Father Knows Best

He was angry. Terribly, terribly angry.

It wasn't the fact that he was alone, cold, hungry, in pain...though these added to the sentiment, they proved to be more fear-inducing than anything. The thing that made him angry was...well, himself.

He was the stupidest kid on the face of the Earth; at least, according to himself. None of this would have happened if he had just been a good boy and listened to his father.

He hated making his father upset. He truly did. For this reason, Miles always made it a point to listen to the "rules" that his father had set for him: "always be polite; mind you temper; don't wander too far from home (his limit was around the block unless he was going to visit a friend); if you are away from home, be in the house before dark; think before you speak; be alert; don't talk to strangers."

A simple set of rules that Miles always followed exactly to the letter...except for that last one. He was really sorry about it, but...he was just incredibly lonely. Before his mother had come back, Miles would spend afternoons in his home alone, waiting for his father to come home from work. He was allowed to walk around the block, so why not take the opportunity to at least say "hello" to anyone he met? It had made him some great friends, to be honest--Maya and Pearl, Prosecutor Clariss, Detective Gumshoe, Apollo, Trucy, Kay...and recently, his two 9 year old friends, Phoenix and Larry. So he didn't understand why his father was so skeptical about him talking to strangers; what was so bad about it? He hadn't really met anyone he didn't like, just some very friendly people.

So of course he was angry at himself for becoming so trusting. He thought that this man was just going to show him origami, going to be just as nice as everyone else had been. But he wasn't. This man had betrayed him, he felt. He'd hurt him, taken him from his home...from his parents. Miles was trapped with no idea how he would ever return home. Or if he would, for that matter. What hope was there? He had been alone when he was taken; how was anyone going to know where he was?

There was now a small amount of water collected at the bottom of the "cell" he was being held in. Miles' feet were submerged; cold rain water splashed against his ankles and made his shoes and socks soggy. He was so scared. What was this man's reason for separating him from his parents?

This was all his fault.

Miles mentally beat himself up for it; his father had set out a simple set of rules for him, and all he had to do was be a good boy and follow them. But he didn't. He rebelled. And he regretted it so much.

This man had instilled in Miles such a fear of strangers that he was unsure if he could ever speak to them again.

There was only one person in the world, he thought, that he would ever 100% fully trust again, and that person was Gregory.

Because, after all, father knows best.

[gregoryedgeworth]

A shoe box and its contents

Upon arriving at the train station where the lockers were supposedly located, Gregory stepped out of his car and frowned. Could the kidnapper be so bold as to do something risky at such a public place? He doubted he would be able to contact the person behind Miles’s disappearance but if the locker stated in the ticket would give him any sort of clue as to where Miles could be, then he would take it willingly.

He locked his car and entered the station. It was already getting late, but there was still quite a number of people in the station—perhaps people who just got off from later shifts. Gregory scanned the area once he had entered. It wasn’t a place he frequented since he did most of his traveling by car so it wouldn’t do him any good to just rush in without taking note of possible entrances and exits. It was much better to be careful and keep level-headed throughout this whole ordeal.

The luggage locker room was situated at the other side of the station—indicated by a sign plain as day. Before one can enter the room, however, one had to go through a metal detector door frame. Gregory complied and walked through the metal detector once he reached the area. The security guard then nodded at him as an indication that he can continue on inside the room.

One more glance at the locker ticket told him that the locker he was looking for was the locker number 3 in line 18. A quick look and a brief walk around the room led him to the locker in question. Gregory simply stood in front of the locker for a few moments, contemplating whether or not he should open it—what if it was a trap? He clenched his jaw and punched in the code included in the ticket. A soft beep was soon heard, indicating that the locker had been opened. He slowly opened the door, his eyebrows lowering as a shoebox revealed itself inside the locker.

Though curious about the contents of the box, he knew better than to open it in a place where other people can easily spot him. It was already getting late, the sun having set quite some time ago. This meant that the likelihood of him being interrupted while studying the contents of the shoebox while in his work office was low.

Gregory took the box out and carried it under his arm as he closed the locker door. He heard some of the contents shift and move around the box. Judging by the sounds and the weight, there are several items in it, the gentle rustling sounded much like paper—but there were one or two heavier items inside.

He moved to step out of the locker room but noticed something strange during his exit. The security guard was away from his post and the metal detector had been turned off. Definitely odd. He mentally took note of it and went on his way to his car. Apprehension and nervousness began to form once more. He of course had gone on much more dangerous investigations before—but none of those were this personal. This time it was his son’s life on the line. What could be inside the shoe box? A note for the meeting place and the required ransom? What could the heavier items in the shoe box be? The questions only seemed to pile up one after the other as he sped off to his office. The sooner he looked at the contents meant the sooner he could get to his son.

Once in the privacy of his office, he locked the door behind him and set down the shoe box on his desk. Slightly trembling hands found their way to the lid of the box and the defense attorney took a deep breath before pulling it upwards to reveal its contents. Gregory’s eyes widened upon seeing them.

There was a gun included in the box—how could it have gotten through the metal detector—

Gregory suddenly recalled the guard suddenly disappearing from his post and the metal detector frame turning off when he exited the locker room. He leaned forward towards his desk, his hands holding tightly on the edges. Was the kidnapper there? Was the kidnapper the guard himself? Or was the guard cooperating with the kidnapper?

His heart sank. It meant one thing. The kidnapper was keeping a close eye on him. Reading the text in the note simply placed a heavy burden on him.  Gregory sank to the floor, onto his knees, as if the burden was literal, and physically there.

"If you seek any assistance, all hope will be lost."

He was on his own. 

[littlemilesedgeworth]

(( Possible feels destruction. ))

Rahera sobbed and wailed like she had never done before, the noise an absolute din as she screamed at the storm above, mud slicked all over her clothes. She had gone nearly mad in her search, running everywhere and even digging in a last ditch attempt to find something.

In her brief insanity from the force of her emotions magic burst from her in the form of flames coating her body as she yelled at the storm, the mocking storm whose thunder laughed at her. "BRING HIM BACK! STOP THIS! S-STOP LAUGHING AT ME!" She felt useless, for all her strength she wasn't able to find him.

The people surrounding her screamed at the sudden flames, unable to see the source of them, scattering like a frightened flock of sheep. They some flickered away as her madness dissipated. Rahera slumped over, exhausted from stress and not caring for her body, breathing ragged as she just waited.

Prayed.

Please.

Just bring him back.

//Also just gonna leave this here ;n; //