Alley Cat

I leave at sunrise.

I mean, I would have left the moment Kaya dropped me and Shirisha off at her condo, but I couldn’t leave right away. Even as my heart fell apart within me, my logic kept me bound together. I needed to learn everything that was said between the two of them and Antonio. Turns out, Antonio’s company is responsible for at least half of all the medication produced in the U.S. alone (and that’s only what the government is aware of). Antonio produced medication for humans and supernaturals alike. He owed the reason of his success to his precious business partners, the witches of Queens. Call it drugs or magic, Antonio claimed to have the remedy for anything and everything. The only thing that stood in the way of Antonio’s booming success was a rat within his own company.

At some point, Luis became too ambitious and smuggled Antonio’s experimental drugs without his boss’s permission. He figured he would make an extra buck or two, and he didn’t think too much about the risks. Afterall, Antonio was known for producing the best drugs in the world. What was the harm of selling a prototype? Antonio’s drugs have never killed anyone before (or so he thought). And the drugs he stole happened to be Antonio’s most brilliant work yet.

For the first time in history, Antonio was in the process of creating the first successful wolf stabilizer. Everyone in the supernatural community knew that it was impossible for wolf mutts to survive for long. Unlike purebreds (people who were born with the wolf gene), mutts were considered unstable. They had a volatile temper and little to none self-control. That, combined with their inhuman strength and brutal wolf nature, was a guaranteed recipe for disaster. The outcome was so devastating that the werewolf community agreed to ban ‘turning’ humans for good. And those who were caught doing so would be punished. What kind of punishment? I can’t say. As a werecat, I was barred from wolf affairs until recently. I haven’t had a major encounter with a werewolf since Min-Jun’s tragic incident. And now I fear that I will have to relive the pain of watching an innocent suffer all over again.

“Helene. Stop! STOP!”

I take what little I have of my belongings and trudge towards the door. Todd tags along by my ankles, and I flash him an apologetic look. Even though we didn’t stay at Kaya’s condo for long, I feel guilty for making Todd leave so soon. At Kaya’s condo, there’s gourmet cat food and the living room always stays at room temperature. Cat toys scatter around the area, free for Todd to use at his leisure. There’s even another cat for Todd to play with. I feel selfish that he’s leaving with me out into the cold. The temperature has dropped to a brutal forty-five degrees, and I know it’s going to drop even lower by the day.

Todd rubs his back against my ankles and purrs. He senses my guilt and reassures me that it’s going to be okay. Tears well up in my eyes, but I push through. I approach the door when Shirisha steps in front of me. She blocks me from the exit with her arms spread out. Her gesture sends chills down my spine. I remember that I’ve been in her position before and Raphael was the one in my place. The similarity deters me for a moment, making me re-evaluate the circumstances.

“Move.” There’s no harshness in my command. I stare at her with a blank unfeeling look. I can see through her; she’s nothing to me. She lost all meaning when she willingly chose to betray me for a second time.

“Why are you doing this?” Shirisha remains startlingly loud and piercing. I’m curious as to why she’s acting like she was the one who was betrayed. Her eyes are bloodshot, and I can tell she hasn’t slept a wink. No one has.

“Is it because of the stupid kiss?”

“Stupid kiss?” I recoil backward as if she had hit me. She may as well have. “Of course that was all it was to you.” The comment isn’t directed at anyone in general but myself.

“Move.” I tell her again, but Shirisha doesn’t twitch a muscle.

“No! I’m not going to let you leave out that door until you understand why I did what I did!”

Kaya watches from across the room with her arms crossed over her chest. She’s irritated. I can see where she points the blame, and it’s all thrown my way. It doesn’t surprise me. To her, Shrisha is her hero. Shirisha is flawless. I’m just the peasant making everything difficult. I am her obstacle to gaining Shirsha’s love. I scoff under my breath, happy on her behalf. Once I’m gone, she can have Shirisha to herself for all I care. I have no room in my life for traitors.

I breathe a long sigh of fatigue before spelling it out for Shirisha to hear. “We gained the information we wanted but at what cost? Did it ever occur to you that I was raped? Did it ever even cross your mind that we could have gained the information through other means? Or better yet, did you even care enough to spare me from the pain you put me through? Did you, Shirisha?”

“It was for a good cause!” Shirisha yells over me although she doesn’t have to. I never once raised my voice during our conversation. I simply can’t afford to waste my energy.

“You have no idea what it’s like to have your body stolen from you. You don’t know what it’s like to be so scared that you can’t even breathe...that you can’t speak.”

My voice wavers a bit, but I hold on. Shirisha breaks down again. Her face leaks tears, and I tell myself to turn away. I look at the door behind her instead.

“I’m sorry!” Shirisha wipes at her eyes furiously. “I wasn’t thinking! Please, Helene. I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

My face turns hot as my voice breaks apart. I’m crying too. Shirisha holds out her arms, but the thought of her touching me makes me sick. “But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that out of all people, you hurt me!” I pound at my chest hard enough to punch a hole in a wall. “You. Hurt. Me. You stole my body and my voice. You didn’t listen when I said ‘no’!”

My cries silence Shirisha. She cries bitterly until Kaya can no longer sit back. And like the lioness Kaya is, she pounces to attack with pure and raw ferocity. “Fuck you, Helene. Fuck. You.”

I turn my gaze to Kaya. She glares me down with balled fists at her sides. “You have no right to antagonize Shirisha like that! Are you going to let hundreds of people die because you can’t bear to submit to a simple kiss? You’re a selfish, self-victimizing bitch!”

It takes all my strength not to punch her in her pretty face. “And you’re a love-struck idiot who needs to humble her prideful ass down to hell!”

Kaya’s amber eyes glow to a bright gold. She would have transformed to her lioness form had it not been for Shirisha’s shrill scream. “STOP, KAYA!”

“You heard that?” I retort back in bitter mimicry. “Stop, Kaya.”

Kaya hisses but hovers her drawn fist in the air. I sneer in her face and whisper in a dangerously low tone, “And F.Y.I? I feel sorry for you.”

“Why?” Kaya grimaces through her teeth.

“Because for one? You were almost raped before you were old enough to divide fractions.” My statement causes Kaya to drop her balled fist. Her face is drained of blood, and she looks at me in bafflement. “And two? Out of all the people you could have idolized, you chose Shirisha. She’s really good at breaking hearts, by the way. And something tells me that you’re next.”

Kaya swallows hard before looking to Shirisha for answers. “How does she know that?” Shirisha returns her frightened expression with a beguiled one of her own.

Then, I turn to Shirisha and pin her down with a grin that would make any serial killer uneasy. “And you. You had the audacity to call me...what was it? A firefly?”

I laugh but Shirisha doesn’t laugh along with me. She only speaks under her breath due to her own shame and embarrassment. “It was supposed to be a compliment.”

“Oh, I know. It’s why I fell in love with you again.”

Shirisha gasps sharply like I’d just shanked her in her kidneys. The pain makes her queasy and flushed at the same time. Before she has a chance to confess how she feels, I jump in.

“But that was obviously a terrible mistake.”

“Helene!” Shirisha says in a strangled cry.

I grab the door handle and free myself back into the world. The first thing I do is run to the nearest subways while frequently looking over my shoulder to make sure Kaya and Shirisha aren’t there. At the peak of my run, I realize that I’ve left them far behind. It allows me to lower my guard, so I slow my run to a walk. I descend the stairs with Todd in my arms and use whatever’s left in my metrocard to return back to Manhattan.

If it weren’t for Todd, I would have passed out on the ride back. Each time I begin to nod off, Todd nudges his paw at me to keep me awake. Hold on, Hel. Almost there. You can do it.

“Sorry,” I say with a yawn. “I always get so sleepy when it’s cold.”

I don’t realize I’m shivering until Todd snuggles closer to me. Although he doesn’t mean to, he shivers too.

“You cold?”

No, he lies. It makes me hold him tighter. I can’t help but cry at how pathetic we must seem. Now that I’m miserable, I realize that I have many things to cry about. My only friend is a cat. I don’t have a home. And it’s so cold that I can’t feel my fingers or toes, and I don’t have a jacket to wear. All my clothes are hidden all around Manhattan and suddenly I can’t remember where I hid them. People start staring but not for long. It’s a bred trait for New Yorkers to mind their own business, and I’m grateful for it.

“Do you know what a dowry is, Todd?”

Todd shakes his head against the thin fabric of my t-shirt. I stroke Todd’s blue fur with my numb fingertips and explain. “A dowry is a payment which a bride must pay her in-laws at the time of her marriage. You know how much my family paid my husband for marrying me?” I snicker at the bitter memory. “Three goats and a pig.” I think I’m about to cry again but my face remains impeccably dry. “And for the longest time, I thought that was all I was worth. Three goats and a pig.”

Todd purrs and rubs his head against me. Well they were wrong because my Helene is worth five-billion tons of gold.

I hold Todd in my arms and tip my head down so I can kiss him. The ride to Manhattan was smooth with no disruptions or delays. The moment the train stops, I hop off and immerse myself into the station where I’m instantly caressed by somber notes. The music draws my body towards its source like how a siren lures in their prey. Without realizing it, I find myself wandering down deeper and deeper into the tunnel with half-closed eyes.

Todd is affected by the music as well, but not as deeply as I am. While the music infects my brain and sings sweet stories about Sicillian villages and gangsters in my ears, Todd playfully trots towards the swinging rhythm and glides his paws with each slur.

Wow. Todd sighs. It’s the theme to The Godfather.

Todd’s comment breaks me out of my trance, and I look down at him in amazement. “How would you know that?”

Todd returns my question with a sheepish smile, the kind that says, You won’t believe me even if I told you.

I go along with Todd’s guess and follow The Godfather further down the tunnels. The notes become more crisp and clear as I come closer to discovering its source. I’m certain the instrument’s a cello. The music is low and robust which comes off as more mature and less passionate than a violin or viola would.

In the distance, I see a silhouette of a young man sitting on a chair with a cello between his legs. His head is slightly bowed with pieces of his curly dark hair falling to his eyes, but it doesn’t bother him at all. He doesn’t rely on sight to see. No. He feels it in his soul. His hands rock across the cello’s fingerboard, imbuing his music with vibrato. His bow glides across the strings effortlessly and ends in a slow pull when he finishes his song.

I’m not surprised that no one bothers to stick around and listen. It’s New York, afterall. Everyone has somewhere to be, but I notice that even they can’t help but look over their shoulder once or twice as they walk by. I approach the player with light steps, careful not to make my presence known. When I’m up close, I see that his cello case is closed. It suggests that the player isn’t here to make money but to simply create music for all to hear.

The music dies. The player looks up from his instrument to look at me. And when his hair falls away from his face, my heart palpitates as his identity sinks in.

“Luka?” I mumble softly into the empty air.

He looks at me and gives me a closed-lip smile to acknowledge my presence before returning to his music. He begins to play a different song that’s unlike the first in every possible way. When I close my eyes, I feel my body spin. I’m suddenly transported to a fair. The smell of cinnamon and greasy foods lingers in the atmosphere, and I see people of all ages riding a giant merry-go-round. There’s an old man riding solo on a fake ostrich and a young girl holding onto the neck of a plastic horse. I see lovers holding hands across their mounts; they smile wide as the merry-go-round spins and sparkles with golden lights. I find myself yearning to ride the merry-go-round as well, but I realize that I’m a mere spectator. Without having been told so, I know that the merry-go-round will not stop for me. I feel left out.

The music intensifies before it comes to an end. Luka removes his bow from the cello and opens his eyes to look at me. “Helene!” He immediately drops his instrument. It lands on the cold subway pavement with a disastrous thud, and he runs to my side. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. That song usually makes people smile.”

Luka gently turns my face towards him and wipes my tears with his hands. His touch wakes me from my dream, and I open my eyes to find the merry-go-round gone. I’m greeted by the rank smells of a New York subway. Pale fluorescent lights flicker above us, bringing attention to the cracks along the walls. Our surroundings are ugly, but I welcome them. For some reason, reality is less insulting than the beautiful fantasy the music created in my mind.

“It was a really amazing song.” When Luka smiles, I take a step back, embarrassed of the attention I’ve brought to myself. I clear my throat. It helps that the cold freezes up my tears. “You play...you’re good. You play really well.”

“Thank you.” To my surprise, Luka blushes as if he didn’t anticipate my compliment at all. His humility is genuine. “I know I said I was going to play for you someday, but I didn’t expect you to be here in the subways. What brings you here?”

And from there, my lies commence. They’re instinctual, impulsive, but believable. “I just came back from visiting a friend in The Bronx. How about you? Have you picked up a new career as a street performer?”

Luka lets out a hearty laugh that flushes his face with color. He seems embarrassed as if I had just caught him with his hand stuck in a cookie jar, and it makes me forget that I’m talking to someone who can easily rip my throat out with his teeth. “God, no. I got bored of practicing at home and wanted a new change of scenery. Besides, it helps to practice in front of an audience, especially since I have a concert coming up.”

“A concert?”

Luka returns back to his fallen instrument, examines it for damage, and packs it back into his case. “I play for the New York Philharmonic,” Luka says casually like it’s no particular feat. He untightens his bow and packs it into the case as well. “First chair cellist, to be exact. We have a concert coming up next week, and I need to be ready.”

His case clicks when it closes, and he carries it by the handle. The instrument still looks huge even when carried sideways. “Anything new with you?”

“No.”

Luka narrows his eyes at me. My heart races within my chest at the fear of him picking up the lie. What he says next solidifies my fear. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Helene. Really, you don’t. But I can always tell when there’s something wrong. I can see it in your face.”

I bite down my lips, chewing nervously. Even as I look at him, I’m still struggling to come to terms with the truth. Luka’s a wolf, but I see nothing in his face or his demeanor that’s remotely beastial. I want to believe that he’s honest. I want to believe that he and his family aren’t responsible for the trail of bodies in New York City. I want to see him as the boy standing in front of me. He’s a passionate musician, a kind boy who’s always ready to help others, a hopeless flirt.

My stomach sinks as I realize that my hopes for this boy are a direct result of my loneliness and my desperate desire for intimacy. I can’t let myself fall in love with him. I have a terrible track record of falling in love with people who hurt me. I fall too easily for lies and empty promises. I’m afraid that if I fall in love again, I’ll give too much of myself away, leaving behind a hollow figure of the girl I used to be.

Luka senses my distress and looks down at me with pure sincerity. “Helene,” he says gently. “Do you trust me?”

And for the first time since we met, I answer back honestly. “No.”

I expect my answer to wound him, but he remains whole and strong. “Have I given you any reason to distrust me?”

My tongue dries up in my mouth, but I confess anyway. “No.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Luka says with a teasing smile. What used to be a serious moment had become a flirtatious guessing game. I love games.

“Yeah.” My heart quickens in my chest. It thumps uncomfortably, and I wish it would stop.

Luka chuckles. It’s a deep rumble that brightens his entire complexion, and I wonder if everyone looked beautiful while laughing or if it was unique to Luka alone. “That’s funny.”

“Oh?” My voice rises to convey my offense. “So you think my fear is funny?”

“Excuse me. I think your fear of me is ridiculous. If anything, I have more reason to fear you.”

“Is that so?” I arch a brow and Luka shifts his expression to match mine. He meets me with a challenging look that’s equally playful as it is rebellious. “Luka Russo is afraid of me?” I snort out of my nose obnoxiously. “I’m harmless.”

Luka tilts his head down. His dark ringlets fall in front of his eyes and graze my forehead. If he chose to lower himself any more, he could easily kiss me. Thought of his lips meeting mine flusters me beyond comprehension, and when I realize that he won’t lower himself anymore, I’m instantly grateful.

“I think you meant to say ‘dangerous’.”

“I’m unarmed.”

“Don’t play coy.” I catch a faint whiff of his cologne. Its spicy scent makes me woozy. “You know that I’ve been honest with you since the day we met, and you’ve done nothing but hold back.”

Luka bombards me with truth upon truth, and my lies can’t keep up. I don’t like to lie; I never have. Had the circumstances been different, had I been an ordinary sixteen-year-old girl with a family and a home, I would never have to lie. But I remember that I’m not ordinary. And I’m not really sixteen. I’m a heartbroken 800 year old werecat who doesn’t know what she’s doing. I’ve lived too long, too hard, and loved too strong. Luka doesn’t deserve someone like me. He needs someone fresh and unwounded. He wants a simple girl who loves to play and tease. I’m not for him, and he’s not for me.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all I can manage to say as I blink back tears. Luka takes me into his arms and holds me. My tears slide off his black leather jacket as he strokes my hair. The kindness of his gesture makes me cry harder.

We embrace in the tunnels for a moment before he lets go. My growling stomach interrupts my sadness, and it gives Luka the brilliant idea of taking me out to eat. I’m so hungry that I can’t refuse. And besides, who could say ‘no’ to Chinese food?

Luka takes me to a small restaurant called Szechuan Kitchen. Not only is it conveniently located right across the street from Russo’s, but it’s also the most affordable restaurant in Manhattan and arguably the most delicious. We sit in a booth close to the door. And when the waiter comes, Luka greets him warmly in Cantonese.

The waiter’s eyes widen in astonishment before he tilts back his head to let out a loud laugh. Their entire conversation leaves me guessing for clues. I find my gaze switching back and forth from the waiter to Luka. From my short time traveling in China with Shirisha, I’m only able to pick out a couple words but not enough to put together coherent thoughts and sentences.

The waiter leaves to put in our order, and Luka turns his attention back to me. A shy smile spreads across his face as he plays with the straw in his icy water nervously. “I...uh...went on a couple of business trips with my father to China. I pick up languages pretty easily.”

“I see.”

I smile coyly at the water droplets sliding off my drink. Todd paws at my lap, and I tell him in a hushed voice that the food’s not ready yet. Underneath the table, Todd gives me a disappointed sigh, and I look back up at Luka who is watching me with curiosity in his eye.

“What? Not impressed?” Luka doesn’t seem offended. If anything, my half-hearted response intrigues him more. I can’t help but laugh.

“No, I am. I’m very impressed. I’m just…” Suddenly, I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. It causes me to scramble for breath. My eyelids weigh heavy, and I have to fight to keep them open. “Sorry. I’m a little out of it. It’s been a rough few days.”

The server brings our food out, arranging every plate to assemble a king’s feast. Instead of diving right in, I order a small bowl for Todd and pick a little from each meal to put in his bowl. I watch as Todd chows down first before I begin eating as well.

“My ex-girlfriend sexually assaulted me at a party,” I say as I bite down on a spicy piece of Szechuan chicken. The sweet and spiciness of its sticky sauce makes me salivate, and I quickly pile more onto my plate. Luka’s face pales with horror as I casually chew bite after bite. I find his reaction startling, and I swallow the bite I have in my mouth before pushing the plate of chicken towards him.

“Sorry, am I hogging all the food?”

“D–Did you just say you got sexually assaulted?”

I nod and begin scooping a hefty serving of fried rice for myself. “The food’s delicious. You should really give this place five stars on Yelp.”

I’m surprised that Luka hasn’t even touched his plate. He glares at me with a haunted look before saying my name firmly. “Helene. Did you call the police?”

His grave behavior ruins my appetite and I sigh. “No. They don’t do anything unless it’s rape. She just kissed me against my will.”

“That’s terrible,” is all Luka can manage to say.

I think about what to say next when the server arrives with our two orders of fried spring rolls. I screech with joy as I throw one down at my lap for Todd and pop another one in my mouth. Luka watches us eat. His face is still pale and his fists are tightly balled on the table. Had I been paying keener attention to him, I think I would have frightened myself at what I saw. Luka seems angry, on the edge of exploding, even. But something happens to prevent him from doing so. Some rational thought runs through his mind and succeeds in cooling him down. Color returns to his face and with it, sweetness.

“Helene.” He says my name gently but firmly. I forget about the food and look at him. “My sister, Daphne, had been put through a similar situation like you. And it’s always wrong for people to touch you without your permission, okay? It doesn’t always have to be rape. Your body is yours and yours only. Don’t let anybody, and I mean anybody make you believe otherwise. People like your Ex make me sick.”

My chopsticks land on my plate with a clatter. I didn’t expect such a well-thought answer from him. I expected sympathy, yes. Pity was another possibility. People always looked at me like I was broken or that there was something wrong with me. I never had someone who defended me or got angry on my behalf.

As much as I want to feel joy from Luka’s answer, his anger provides a more sinister possibility to Luis’s case. It’s clear now that Luka is a protective brother.

The kind that would torture his sister’s rapist alive, I think to myself.

My heart turns heavy as I realize that Luka may play a role in the murders creating havoc in New York City. Luka, Antonio, Luis, and Daphne are connected. The big question is, who is guilty of what?

“I don’t understand you.” My voice sounds weak and distant like I’m trying to yell across from a mile away.

“What is there to understand?” Luka looks hurt like I’m accusing him of something, and I hate myself for it.

“Why do you like me? No offense but I’m not a talented musician. I don’t speak a bunch of foreign languages. I’m not rich or good-looking. I’m kind of a bum. No. I am a bum. I don’t have a family. In fact, I don’t have anything you could possibly want.” I take a deep breath before going on. “I’m emotionally unavailable. I get in trouble...a lot. And to be honest, I think you’re wasting your time.”

Luka relaxes enough to start eating. He picks up a long tendril of greens and piles them in his bowl of rice with ease. “First of all, I’m not interested in falling in love with another ‘me’. And second of all, my time is my time. I can choose to waste it however I want. And right now, I’m choosing to eat with you in this lovely restaurant to celebrate my birthday.”

My eyes widen significantly. “It’s your birthday?”

Luka almost chokes on some greens. “Twenty-one. God, you have no idea how good it feels to finally be able to order drinks again. Seriously! What is it with America? You can enlist in the military and vote at eighteen, but God forbid you have a decent drink.”

“You could have at least invited more friends.”

Luka shakes his head. “Don’t worry. They’re all coming to my party tonight. Please tell me you’re coming.”

This time it’s my turn to choke. I choke on a dried chili pepper that makes me bawl my eyes out. Luka laughs until his sides hurt, and he nudges my glass of water towards me. I swallow a bunch of ice cubes before mustering, “I...got nothing to wear.” But what I really meant to say was, I don’t want to come to your werewolf party.

Luka’s laughter dies down, and he looks at me like I’m some sort of impossible puzzle he can’t solve. “You and your excuses. You forget that you have a whole wardrobe of my clothes to wear.”

I shake my head adamantly. “I’m not wearing your clothes to your birthday party. People are going to get the wrong idea.”

“Then let them.”

My face turns hot, and my cold hands fly to my cheeks’ rescue. Now that I think about it, I’ve been blushing a lot lately. What happened to me? What happened to the cool cat I used to be? How is it that I easily become flustered and frustrated with every little poke and tease?

Luka takes a bite of a peking duck and sighs as his teeth sinks into the fluffy white bao. “Duck. That’s the only meat Italians can’t seem to master.”

I look down at his plate full of uneaten chilis and smile. “Apparently Italians can’t handle spice either.”

Luka’s expression melts like warm butter, and I feel my insides melting as well. “Please come to my party.”

I’m at a loss at how to respond when I feel Todd rolling over in my lap. He emits a loud snore that shakes the table, reminding me of his presence. I roll my eyes before I reach down to rub his round, protruding, belly. “I seem to remember that your family doesn’t like cats. If Todd’s not going, I’m not going.”

Luka runs his fingers through his hair, deep in thought. It doesn’t take long for his countenance to brighten upon the birth of a brilliant idea. “I can hide him in my closet with all the food he can eat.”

I give him a hard look before saying, “I’m not locking my cat in your closet.”

“Please!” Luka begs.

I sigh and give in. “Fine. Let me ask him.”

I rouse Todd awake and he looks up at me sleepily. “Todd. You mind hanging out in Luka’s closet so I can party with him?”

Will there be food? Todd groans.

“Definitely.”

Todd shrugs before plopping back on my lap to sleep. Fine with me.

“I guess I’m going to your party then.”

Luka’s eyes light up like sparks. He’s so overjoyed that it makes me wonder when was the last time I made anyone this happy. “That’s...that’s great! The party starts at six. It’s going to be really fun with you there, Helene.”

I have to look down at the table to keep myself from blushing. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me the address already.”

Luka writes it down on a thin napkin (since I don’t have a phone). We both take home a fortune cooking before parting ways. As I walk down the street, Todd insists I break open the cookie, and I give into the pressure. I break the cookie apart and read my fortune aloud.

Be passionate and totally worth the chaos.

Todd and I share a good laugh before I toss the paper to be carried by the wind. Chaotic, I am. Passionate, I’ll be. But who am I to say that the chaos I leave behind is worth it? I’ve lived a life of regret and pain. I’ve suffered and watched others suffer. Even so, I remember that I’m on my final life and suddenly I’m invigorated with determination. I believe I can make this final life worth it. And when I think of my life right now with all its danger, heartache, and possibilities, something tells me that I can finally be happy.