I'm back! Finished this up thanks to a message from a reader who really made me get in gear to get this chapter up! :) Thanks.

Excuses? None... I'm just lazy. Sorry :(

WARNING: This is Alice's past, including some events in the insane asylum for Just a Dream. The beginning flash back is rated M for MATURE, so if you're queasy or don't like the idea of psychopathic girl's with visions going a little crazy, then skip past it. Just warning you before reading, but I actually like it... it's the best portrayal of her past that I've ever done. So, enjoy!

Here you go :)

They were killing me slowly.

It was a matter of time… but I would die by their hand. They controlled me, told me how to live, told me what to do. I used them, and in turn they used me, devouring my mind like hungry, prowling fiends. It was only a matter of time.

Why wait?

I stared down at the object, the innocent, clean, sharp object. A razor from an attendant's purse. Why did she have it? I giggled at the idea of an attendant here having psychological problems. Why didn't she share a space with me?

Use me. It whispered softly, and I touched the cool metal, confused. Should I? My visions spiraled, and I frowned even more, looking up at the camera. My back was twisted, so it just looked like I was staring at my hands, but I needn't worry anyway; they wouldn't notice. The place was too cheap to actually have tapes for their cameras. It would be when someone got an intuition that something was wrong that I'd be caught.

No time to lose, then. They attacked me, sending me down, down, down, my head at my knees, my fist against my temple, trying to push them out. Please, please, please, leave me alone!

No time to lose.

Use me.

Tears in my eyes as my head pounded angrily, I pushed the blade against my skin, watching as nothing happened. Where was the pain, the release? Blinking back tears, I angrily pushed harder, furious when nothing happened. Yanking my hand back, I let out a soft gasp as the sharp blade suddenly slid against my skin at the right angle, giving me the strange satisfaction at seeing the sharp contrast against my pale skin. They didn't like this though, and pushed harder against my head, showing me something sick and looming up ahead for me; red, red, and lots of red. I was drowning in it, and I cried out, falling from my chair. Why wouldn't they stop!? Didn't that cut mean anything?!

Use me more.

I mumbled something and slashed again, gasping slightly as another jagged red line appeared, but still they pressed against my head, pushing against my temples, screaming at me from all sides.

"Get… out…" I groaned in pain and slashed again, wincing as the pain in my mind increased. Why wouldn't it leave me alone?! The blade was shining with my blood, my sick, red, blood, and I realized that the blade was hungry. It was hungry? I was full. It could take what it wanted from me.

They didn't like that.

They pushed, they prodded, they sent me to my knees, begging me to see, forcing me to see the red that washed in front of my eyes until all I could see was red. All I could feel was the blade's hunger. It pushed me, it yanked me; it wanted me as bad as I wanted it.

"Get. Out." The growl sounded strange from my lips, but I hardly noticed. Lights danced in front of my eyes, lights that hurt me, lights that send my head reeling in pain, the pressure at my temples building and building into a huge cacophony of pain, pain that wouldn't leave me alone. Why wouldn't it leave me alone?!

"Get out of my head!!" The words ripped from me, my hands pressed against my skin, the blade flat against my face, pushing, pushing, and pushing. I screamed, and the blade reached out for me, starving for my skin. It staved for me; why deny it? I let out a shaky breath, tears falling as the visions spiraled, making me choke as I tried to push them away. My wrist, sliced open, seemed too small to make them go away; they had to go away. They couldn't get out that way… how could I expect them to? Desperate, I fumbled across my arms, leading up to the points that mattered. The main artery right underneath my arm? No, too fast. I wanted to feel them leave, to feel the visions finally give me my freedom. The hungry metal crawled across my arms, up my shoulder, feeling for the heavy, thudding pulse at my neck.

Use me.

It bit lightly, tasting my skin, leaving a small red trail. A sigh, soft in my pounding ears, escaped my lips, and I giggled.

They didn't like that.

They attacked, pressing against me, suffocating my breath, throwing me onto the floor as pictures of things to come screamed in my ears, rushed through my head, taking away everything that I'd just accomplished. No, no, no, no, no-

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" I screamed, fingers fumbling for the knife, fumbling for the release from this torture. There was a sound outside of my door, a key scraping in a lock, and I screamed again, gripping the knife tight as I plunged it toward my neck, not caring where I hit, as long as I hit somewhere that mattered. Behind me, a shout of shock and concern, and I felt someone reaching around me, trying to get a hold of me.

"NO, NO, NO, NO-" I struggled, fighting, lifting myself up, the luscious red running down my neck and onto my starched white shirt, staining the ugly, pure color with something a little more realistic. My visions scattered at the pain, trying to grab onto my slipping mind as the knife called to me, called to my skin, hungry for more. I hadn't hit a good spot, apparently.

I'd just have to try harder, then.

"Alice, stop, Alice, what's going on?! I need some assistance here!!" The attendant struggled with me, but I was too slippery; she didn't want to grab onto my slick, wet skin. The blood fell faster as I let out a blood curdling cry and kicked up, flinging away from her.

Use me.

I stuck the blade into my skin, demanding it, no, begging it to eat at me. Take away the pain. My vision was spotted red, half of me in the present, half of me in the future. It wasn't gone yet? I'd fix that. I pulled it out, going for my arm, trying to hit the main artery. My knees buckled, and I fell, scrambling away from the attendant as she tried to get help while also retaining me.

"Alice, give me the blade; we'll help you." She tried soothing me, but I just laughed, a sick, pathetic noise, and I pulled the blade from my skin, trying to decide where it would matter. I hardly heard her words, her soothing tones, her nasty, sick, lying words. I was too lost in my own mind, too lost in their consuming words.

"Get… out… GET OUT-" They weren't gone though, and I gave a strangled cry as I yanked the blade from my skin again, aiming for my throat and missing, the knife skinning my collar bone.

And then they came.

It was pandemonium, the doctors and attendants rushing about, grabbing me from all sides, and I screamed against their hands at my mouth, biting and scratching as they struggled to contain me. Contain me?! They couldn't contain the pain that danced in front of my eyes, the pain that made me grip the blade, begging it to help me; why wouldn't it help me?!

"Unit D attendants, attention all unit D attendants, we have a code blue situation in room number 84, please assist in dispatching the problem immediately, I repeat, all unit D attendants, please assist in dispatching the problem immediately. Attention all unit D attendants-" The voice droned on and on, but my ears were lost to them. My eyes were lost to the swirling abyss around me, screaming and shouting all in one loud rumble that passed by my senses as deaf and lusterless. I was struggling-oh how I remember struggling, but it made no difference.

Red. All red.

There were shouts of order, screams of help, and the sounds of many feet rushing nauseatingly together as the attendants fought to gain control of me, but where was it? Where was I? Out of control, screaming, struggling against them, fighting like I'd never fought before, biting and scratching and punching and kicking.

Everything bathed in red.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Above the clamor around me, I was aware of one voice, one voice that stood out amongst the sea of yelling and so called soothing voices. I couldn't see him though; I couldn't see him in the sickening red abyss that loomed over me and wrenched me under, and as I was submerged in blood I let out a bone chilling scream, jerking against the doctors and kicking one in the face, successfully breaking free from their strangle hold.

It spit me out onto the white washed beach, the red staining my clothes in a sticky substance, and I was painfully aware of the waterfall on my neck, the waterfall that made the room swim like a pool of iridescent crimson. I was blissfully aware that I held a greedy device in my hand; a razor blade that was hungry for me. I could hear it calling for me, teeth ready to bite into me, to chew the madness out of my head. It was too much to bear, and my silver friend was ready to take the madness away. God bless him; he wasn't blessing me.

"Dr. Brandon, she's snapped, attempted suicide; we can't get to her without her fighting us. She's got a weapon and she's stabbed a nurse." I giggled despite myself, dancing away from reaching hands, obliging my friend and swinging, swinging, swinging into the rush of red around me, letting him rip and tear at everyone else, letting him take a bite of what was rightfully his. My friend deserved it, no? He was helping me out, and as if to second this thought I spat out the sticky substance from my mouth, screaming something when someone came too close.

"What are we going to do? She's her own hostage-"

"Alice, you need to stop-"

"Will someone get the damn tranquilizer?!"

I felt the world tipping as my visions exploded, bathing me in red as I let out a strangled sob, pushing away from the waves, the sickness in my stomach making me yank my silver demon back, reaching for my flesh, the lust reflecting off of it's beautiful, longing surface.

"Someone stop her, she's going to kill herself!" I eyed their red stained clothes, their panic ridden faces, and I smiled to myself. This was a good way to go.

And yet, they wouldn't let me go.

I didn't see him come from the side. I didn't see him until I was picked up from behind, the blade snatched from my hand, sending my mind into sick waves as I screamed in surprise and fury, kicking out and up, fists clenched, ready to fight to the end, but what end was there?

I couldn't remember anymore.

"Alice, stop it." His voice was right in my ear as the sea of people rushed about me, someone pulling along a bed, a clean white bed, and he laid me upon it, the straps binding me, pulling me down, taking me away, and his voice continued over the screaming that tore from my lungs, the begging and the crying, the sick red pouring from me like a river, my hands clenching against air, my face twisted into panic as I cried against the pain.

It was all consuming, the pain that pushed against my temples, and with a sob I fought, I fought against the hands that pushed the cart, I fought the cart that pulled me down, down, down into the dark abyss that swallowed me whole and refused to let me go as the red that surrounded me strangled me slowly.

"Once upon a time," I whispered into the dark night. Behind me, Jasper shifted ever so slightly, and I felt cold hands touch my wrists.

"You start all of your stories like fairy tales?" He asked in hushed tones, the words velvety soft in the air. I smiled despite myself, and I settled deeper into the small hollow he'd created with his body around me. Lazily, I nodded and gave a soft sigh, trying to find where to start my entire tale. With the very beginning, like he had? With the beginning of my insane asylum years? Maybe the beginning of my existence as a psychic…

"What comes after once upon a time?" Jasper asked curiously, voice soft and caressing. I let out another sigh, trying to find the beginning of this entire nightmare I couldn't seem to wake up from. Sensing my hesitance and worry, he let his hands ghost over my hands, lightly touching my clenched fists. He could feel my tension, and in turn it had probably made him tense as well. Feeling slightly apologetic, I forced myself to relax, rolling my shoulders back and letting my fingers extend and lay limply on my knees.

"Once upon a time…" My voice caught, and I froze, hating how my throat had tightened and tears had collected around my eyes. I blinked, trying to force them back, but to no avail. Lifting my head back, I turned up to face the sky, hoping they wouldn't run over. Jasper remained quiet behind me, but I could feel his unease at the situation. He was being rather patient with me though, and I silently thanked him.

Was it so hard to speak?

Yes, it was. It was hard to relive the entire episode that I'd become accustomed to; living it was hard enough. Within me though was the burning desire to tell him, to let him see why I did the strange things I did. No one had understood it before. Now was my chance.

"Once upon a time… there was a little girl." The words sounded bitter in my mouth, but I ignored it. Closing my eyes, I leaned back farther and felt my back lightly press against his chest. He moved slowly, pulling my relaxed hands up and linking his fingers through mine, as if to reassure me. Grateful, I plodded on. "This girl lived in a kingdom far, far away. She lived with her mother, and her father… and the house's cleaning crew." My breathing slowed as the words passed my lips, and I was relieved that it wasn't as difficult to speak as before.

"She seemed like a happy girl, growing up with everything she'd ever wanted… her mother was attentive to every little thing she'd needed… but not necessarily wanted. Her father was the detached, businessman who would give her many gifts to keep her complacent. At the age of four, she was considered spoiled, and loved every minute of it.

"But this little girl had a deep, dark, terrible secret.

"She could see things. She could see things before they ever happened, things that were good, things that were bad… things that were sick. She was only a little girl, and these things frightened her, and made her scared whenever it happened after she'd already seen it. She'd mostly see bad things, things that people would do without getting caught, and they'd steal away into the night like bandits. They'd never be found for those bad things… but she saw them." I frowned as pictures popped into my mind, and Jasper breathed softly behind me. Sensing my unease, Jasper leaned down, lips close to my ear.

"What was this little girl's name?" He asked curiously. I let out a breathy whisper of a laugh, looking forward into the darkness.

"The little girl's name was-"

"Is," Jasper corrected me, chuckling.

"is… Mary Alice Conners. She hated her first name though, so she simply went by Alice.

"Her visions… were scary. She couldn't control them, and if she tried to fight them, it hurt. When she tried to tell her mother though, her mother simply ignored her, telling her that she needed to stop pretending and live in the real world. Alice, the silly girl, would have loved to live in the real world. But she couldn't… no matter how hard she tried.

"She told her father, she told her family's friends… they all smiled at her and ignored her… she was a child; what did she know? But she'd seen death before… and secretly, her mother was afraid of her for that simple fact. Her mother told her to never, ever tell anyone about her gift because people were jealous, but little Alice knew better. She saw visions of how people really, truly, were, and knew that they were scared of her.

"She didn't have friends. They always rejected her, telling her that there was something strange about her, something that just didn't fit right. She told her mother this, but the woman simply smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear, telling her to, 'shush and be a good girl'. And then… her father realized she was telling the truth." My story stopped for a moment, and I blinked, tears forming again as I remembered that day oh so clearly. Jasper tightened his grip on my hands, sensing my distress. I smiled through my tears, but it hurt so badly.

"Daddy, daddy!" I rushed to him, happy and excited. Setting his briefcase down, he leaned down to give me a stiff hug, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. My mom came up and stood behind me, her head tilted as she smiled softly at him, albeit warily. She could guess that something was wrong.

"Bad day at the office?" She guessed, face crinkling as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. I knew what was wrong though, and I stared up at him with wide, solemn eyes. He smiled though, a forced smile, and nodded.

"Very busy." He agreed, returning her hug with one of his own.

"No, it wasn't." I didn't know why I was speaking, but my lips moved on their own. Mommy and daddy looked down at me, surprised looks on their faces.

"Honey, what-"

"It wasn't busy at the office today, was it, daddy?" I asked gravely, turning to face him. He was staring down at me strangely, his face twisted between horror and surprise, his hand nervously adjusting his tie.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" He asked with gritted teeth.

"It wasn't busy today until you did something with the secretary that took her clothes off for you." I informed them solemnly. The silence that followed was thick, and choking. My mother's eyes grew wide for a moment before they suddenly narrowed and she turned to face daddy, daddy who's eyes were wide and his mouth slack. His hand was motionless on his tie.

And then his face transformed.

"You little bitch!" He snarled, reaching for me, eyes dark with fury and mouth twisted. I screamed, ducking away from him, scrambling to get away from the way his dark, bottomless eyes that seemed to grow as he attempted to run after me.

"… They argued that night. I remember the screaming… the accusations… I remember something shattering, and the next morning the maids swept up the glass roses that had been an anniversary present." I numbly informed him, not realizing that my grip had tightened on his hands. "I know remember my father screaming at her, saying that, 'I wasn't normal,' and, 'that child was too strange to be his,'. He said that I was an eerie child and needed help. My mother came downstairs with a bruise on her arm." My voice broke and I went a little quiet, wondering when I'd suddenly switched from third person to first.

"I they began taking me to a family psychiatrist, but he said there was nothing wrong with me, just an over active imagination. I was seven when he lost it and demanded that I go to the insane asylum."

"Honey, we're going on a little trip tomorrow." My mother looked up at me from the dinner table where I was debating whether or not to eat my veggies. I attempted looking ahead to see if I'd get in trouble for refusing, but another vision clouded my mind, stopping me from worrying about my greens for the second.

"Why?" I asked, looking at my dad and then my mom. They exchanged glances and daddy grabbed her hand, squeezing it and giving me a pointed look.

"We're going to a special place-"

"No, no, mommy… why are you leaving me?" I shook my head and set my fork down, watching her and waiting for her to speak. A dead silence fell over the table and they both exchanged looks.

"I don't know what you mean, Alice, dear." My mother said sweetly, her forehead creased.

"You're going to leave me in a cold, white building. I'm going to cry… but you'll keep walking and you won't look back." I said softly, the scene running through my mind like cartwheels, my stomach flip-flopping. Suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore.

My parents just stared at me with similar looks of horror on their face.

"The next day I refused to leave my room… but my father made me anyway. I checked into the Biloxi Mississippi Insane Asylum with a bruise on my cheek.

It wasn't so bad… at first. I had a few different doctors, each one asking me what I saw, why I saw it… they were nice." I felt Jasper's light breath fan against my neck and I shivered.

"Why did they change the doctors around?" He asked softly, leaning in and letting his nose graze my shoulder through my shirt. I could taste the tension in the air, but I tried to repress it. My story wasn't what he thought it would be.

"They do that to see if there's one you work with better than the others. The one I got… was Dr. Brandon. He was really nice, but he didn't put any stock in my visions. He was always asking about my family, my home life, my likes and dislikes… he was different. He didn't talk about my visions until I told him one I'd seen where a girl in the insane asylum strangled herself with her sheets.

"The asylum wasn't so bad. They were really nice and always spoke gently to me. I wasn't too lonely; no one bothered to be my friend in the real world, why should it matter in a place where we were meant to be alone? The worst part was the screaming… some kids couldn't get better, no matter what happened. At night they'd cry and scream and it would hurt my ears… my parents didn't visit though… and I remember being sad. I remember… crying to Dr. Brandon about it.

"And then I met Cynthia.

"She believed my visions. She believed them like no one else did. It was agreed that I could have one friend out of the asylum come in, and Dr. Brandon put his daughter up to it so that he could easily monitor it. She was… intense. All too big smiles and always excited. She was nice though, and it was nice to have a friend. I knew it couldn't last though. No matter how many times I was told that I was sick and that the visions were fake, I knew they were real. When I saw myself eating chicken, we'd have it. When I saw Dr. Brandon trying to play a mind game I saw myself giving an answer and I always knew what to do to get what I wanted. It wasn't hard for me to be in a place that was manipulated by me.

"The visions got worse though…" I felt the lump building in the back of my throat and I leaned back farther, needing some kind of indication that I was in the present and wasn't reliving my past. Jasper, sensing this, immediately threaded his fingers through mine and distracted me by sliding his smooth, cool thumb over my wrist, calmly waiting for me to get the courage to speak again. I took a deep breath, and continued.

"As I got older… I started realizing just why I was there. Sure, I knew why before, but I began to grasp the concept of insane. It hit me that the more I believed them, the longer I'd be there… so I tried to stop seeing them. The thing about visions… I can't control them. I see what I see, and it was like having someone else in my head, jumping in randomly to let me in on something. It… hurt if I tried to stop it. Remember when I went crazy? It was a gradual decline… a slow depression fueled with fear, stress, and hysteria.

"It didn't hurt as bad as I thought… going crazy. I felt out of control, but I was out of it. I could hardly think let alone speak, and everyone was going crazy trying to figure out what had happened to me. Cynthia was absolutely excited but worried. Dr. Brandon… I can't describe it. He was who brought me back. I don't know how, but he managed to find me in the darkness that I was lost in, and he made life bearable again.

"And then I met… him." I felt Jasper tense ever so slightly behind me as I said that, but I continued before he could say anything. The words were starting to tumble from my mouth, something that I couldn't stop even if I'd wanted to. I was powerless.

"You know why he was brought in. We met accidently in the hallway when we were going for checkups. He seemed different from the others who were lost. He was in total control of himself.

"So we began to hang out whenever we could." The wind blew softly, and I could smell the dew that lay gently around us, the air moist and no noise from animals nearby. The silence was peaceful even though I was telling a horror story.

"I don't know how long it took… before I began to see things about him that scared me. He began doing strange things like touching my neck at the pulse when he wanted it to be just me and him. He'd hold my wrist lightly, or link pinkies. He was content as long as we were touching in some way or other. Besides Cynthia and her over bearing perkiness, he was my only friend. I didn't mind it until it became… intense.

"He began lashing out at anyone who came too close, and he attacked an orderly when she called us, 'freaks'. He believed my visions, and he believed that they'd bring his vampire 'friends' back to him. The insanity I'd always feared and once tasted… was becoming all too real."

"Mind if we share crayons?" A teenage boy with blonde hair and baby blue eyes smiled hesitantly down at me before I nodded absentmindedly and let him sit. His name was Roxas and had another person in his body named Sora. Today, he was Roxas though. Roxas was soft spoken and shy whereas Sora was bouncy and everywhere, excited and high strung.

"How's Sora been?" I asked softly, grabbing a green crayon and handing him a gray one. He always drew random keys or would show strange, black things that he called heartless. He always showed them eating people's hearts.

"He's been good. A little sad since he missed the day our parent's came." Roxas whispered back, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he drew with intense concentration.

"Tell him I say hi then, and I'm sorry he missed it." I replied, noticing that he gave a shy smile and nodded, obviously grateful. Roxas hated people trying to make him seem crazy and we got along because I always treated him and Sora as separate people who just shared the same body. Everyone else just thought he had an alternate personality.

"Is he going to be able to see our mom and dad?" He asked me, and I grew quiet, trying to see ahead. Forcing myself to have a vision often gave me a headache, but it was worth it. Roxas was always nice to me.

"If neither of you force a day more than what you share, he'll see them." I promised.

"Thank you." Roxas said, grabbing the black crayon to squiggle in a heartless with armor.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Suddenly, Roxas was grabbed from behind and yanked onto the floor, an enraged boy standing over him, fists clenched around his shirt. Roxas stared up at him blankly before his face twisted into anger and he kicked up, dislodging him from half strangling him.

"What are you talking about?" Roxas snarled, moving in and pushing the other guy away. I backed up, glancing around the room to see the other people moving away too. Where were the orderlies? What was he doing out of his cell? My mind spun.

"Don't you ever touch her or talk to her. Ever." He lunged and landed a strong punch, sending Roxas back and onto the floor. Reeling around, he gave everyone else an evil, intense stare. "Anyone touches her, and I'll kill you all."

"He didn't let me talk to anyone else. He tried to force my visions, and it… hurt. It became too much even though Dr. Brandon suspected, he couldn't get any papers through to really help. Finally… I took matters into my own hands.

"… You've probably never cut yourself. Let me say that it's not what everyone makes it out to be. But, to be fair, by the time I did it, I was so lost I could hardly register anything but the visions that were out of control. The more you force them, the more they stayed and the harder the present is to live in.

"I… tried to kill myself." My voice broke off as one of Jasper's fingers trailed over my neck to where a thick line crossed the side, and then he drug another agonizing finger across my collar bone where another one resided.

"I almost succeeded, too." I whispered.

"What stopped it?" Jasper's voice was raw, and painful.

"Dr. Brandon got to me from my blind spot and they managed to restrain me. I remember the blood… the screaming… everyone pressed tight against their doors as I was wheeled away from my room and into the hospital wing in critical. I remember waking up covered with tubes and bandages, and hating my life."

Everything was a starch white. My vision was foggy, but I could see around the haze that blinded me, and I saw nothing but white light. There was no sign of blood, no sign of mayhem… it was like I'd never tried to end my life.

The white light glared above me, and I blinked, seeing red behind my eyelids. Red. Blood red. Closing my eyes, I sighed softly.

"Alice…?" I looked over, dully, to see Dr. Brandon in a chair near mine, face ashen, hair rumpled. My throat was hoarse feeling and dry, and my body was weak. I didn't feel the pain, so it was assumed that morphine was being pumped into my veins.

"We were… you're ok." He seemed unsure what to say, and he looked down as if realizing that.

"Yes, I am." I forced my lips to shape the words that I didn't want to say. I could feel anger pounding along with my pulse, the tattoo of it against my ribs, strong and steady, reminding me that I was once again, alive.

"I'm so… relieved." He whispered, reaching out and taking my hand gently. I stared back at him, coldly.

"I'm not." I hissed softly. He stared up, startled.

"I don't underst-"

"Do you think that if I wanted life, I would have stabbed myself?" Jerking my hand from his I reaching to my throat, a thick gauze wrapped taut around it. He merely stared back, eyes shiny and fake looking, like glass eyes behind his glasses.

"We had to save you, Alice." He said.

"Well, thank you, I suppose. Thank you for taking away the one thing that could cure me of my disease for good."

"It was soon after that, he signed me up for testing at a facility to see if they could cure me. They ran tests… and found nothing. They began taking tissue and blood tests, dialysis, and medicines, drugging me up and pulling me down, trying to see what made me see what I saw. When Dr. Brandon realized this, he tried to stop the tests, but the contract was a two year agreement."

"I was released at the age of seventeen with the diagnosis that I was completely sane and had wasted the last ten years of my life believing something that the doctors said was not true."

"And then… I came here."

Hit or Miss? Let me know in a reiview, please.

Too much? Too little? I got out 10 pages before I decided to cut it off, so the next part will be up A.S.A.P!

Thanks for the support everyone! Please remember to review!