"On three…"

From the corner of my eye, I note Gracia and Maes in deep conversation. Gracia's face still shimmers with long stretches of tears. She hadn't stopped ever since our reunion in the Usual Place. Maes looks on the verge of breaking down himself, surely at the sight of his beloved being in such a fragile state.

"One…"

The Colonel stares at me from across the room, leaning casually against the wall. I imagine those barriers to crumble behind him and wonder if he'd allow himself to fall with the debris. Or would he struggle back to his feet? Something like pain clouds his dark irises. His jaw twitches unnaturally. A burning force prevents me from continuing my speculation and I quickly look away.

"Two…"

Instead I settle my dry gaze down at Riza sitting before me, her lips pressed firmly into a straight line. I can't help but notice the slight trembling in her usually stable hands. Being a sniper required steadiness. It was strange to see such a woman showing herself to be nervous. The task she was preparing to execute didn't fall into any extreme category so I couldn't bring myself to understand the flicker of her eyes reading my expression with an unspoken question.

She inhaled shakily.

"Three."

With a ferocious yank, out the glass shard went along with my pained exclamation. Riza, despite long ago expecting how I'd respond, winces as if she were the one with a gaping hole in her knee. Even the Colonel tenses, his eyes shutting tight. And as I take in the Hughes reaction, almost as painful as the extraction itself, Riza withdraws a heaping mass and tangle of bandages to slam them against the wound before it could register waves of red. Once the temporary fix-up was set and dealt with, she pulled away to properly take her place on the sofa at my side.

Silence gnawed its way into the room. Unconsciously I lifted a hand to my cheek, still inflamed from Gracia's earlier stunning display of exasperation. Her screams echo like a broken record fixed on repeat growing louder and louder still.

"What the hell were you thinking?! Do you have any idea how terrified we were?! Do you not realize how incredibly stupid and selfish this was?! Did it ever even occur to you that you're in no way fit to defend yourself out here?! At night, none-the-less! You could have been killed!"

The slap itself didn't compare to the knife of words and lack of composure she demonstrated towards me then. I'd snapped something in her with my disappearance and so she had her way of coping. Honestly, I was thankful for the strike. Surprised, but grateful to see she could show a more vicious side to her if needed.

I risk another glance at her direction to find her watching me. Every ounce of anger has vanished from her face, driven away by exhaustion. I could only guess as to how vigorously she'd been searching for me, panicked and fearing the worst for my case. The only way I could even consider such a possibility was by the way she seemed to have realized her act of frustration at the time and how she enveloped me into her arms. I had been submerged into a grip suffocating to the point of being inescapable. By the time we'd arrived back at Riza's, I practically had to be pried away from her viper-like hold.

In an act of guilt, I try for a weak smile. She hesitates briefly before giving into a sad smile of her own. Maes makes sure to follow pursuit, nodding his head behind his wife in a sign of graciousness.

Roy continues his piercing stare. I clear my throat. Surely saying something, anything, would be far better than waiting around in this horridly thick atmosphere.

I open my mouth to speak only to flinch back into silence at the eagerness of my three companions simultaneously leaning forward to hear whatever it was I wanted to say. Almost disappointed, they relaxed as one. Maes ruffled his hair in uncomfortable pondering. Gracia timidly shuffled her feet, looking down uncertainly. The sniper sighed loudly, looking only at my crippled state and I pick up on her face emitting expressions of guilt. It was obvious she felt somehow responsible for my condition. The logic she goes by is concerning. How could she put this situation on her own shoulders?

"You don't have to look like you're responsible for this mess, Riza," I say softly, finally finding the courage to speak. In response, she jerks her head up blinking wide-eyed. Apparently she really was that troubled about it. I consider the way her eyes seemed to glass over after Gracia mentioned my defenselessness out in the open. Right then I knew, I absolutely knew she was thinking about how she'd went on and hidden my equipment. Weapons, items, food, everything I had to survive out in my previous days. Even with good intentions of protecting me from, well, me, she believed her actions had led to this atrocious result. Which was ridiculous.

She lowers her gaze. The thin line her lips formed begins to droop and she says nothing for a while, deep in thought. I can't think of anything else to bring up in regards to the heaviness of the mood, so I too start to drift off and away into another world.

It'd been like this for quite some time. Ever since the eventual discovery by the Colonel and the slow parading of the others joining us, each with their own and unique reactions, not a single conversation struck chord. Occasionally a couple of syllables were grumbled and a reassuring squeeze would be delivered to my shivering state, but other than that and this, hardly a sound was made.

I find myself sneaking another glance at the Colonel and go beet red under his questioning stare. A brow lifts to acknowledge my random urge to take in his appearance and I silently curse him for reminding me of our earlier talk in the Usual Place. The warm imprint of his hand ignites within my closed fist and I feel the strongest need to bolt out of the room. Of course what keeps me rooted to the spot is the chilling fear of Gracia going insane at even the smallest thought of trying to run away again. So I remain where I am, feeling feverish and damp from the rain pounding outside.

I'm thinking to attempt saying something else, as looking at the Colonel had miraculously sparked the desire to be somewhere with liveness rather than in this dead space, when Riza suddenly decided to jolt to her feet. The movement startles me so by the time I could ask her what was wrong, she'd already stormed off into her room. Her door remained open however, so I could distinctly note the growing light of her closet being switched on and the faint noises of her rummaging through something. A couple of thuds shook the ground. I imagined her lines of weaponry collapsing on top of her and grew cold.

"Is she alright…?" I ask then turn to regard the others. Gracia appears perplexed and Maes seems just as puzzled. Roy still hasn't budged. He seems unbothered by his Lieutenant's behavior. Then again, I should suppose that the two are on close terms by now. They were great partners in crime omitting the occasional bickering, and for some odd reason the overall truth of it stirred something sour in my gut. It festered like a stubborn ache as if I were aggravated that the two could spend so much time together and learn one another to their heart's content.

I grimace.

"Are you?"

At the Colonel's question, I shrug. It seemed expected for me to answer with a flimsy "yes", but fatigue willed away the lie. Besides, I really wasn't okay and that much was pretty obvious.

"Do you need anything?" Gracia asks. Her voice trickles out as a gentle whisper. I shake my head no and smile tiredly.

"You've all done enough for me, thank you."

The Hughes wave away my thanks looking flustered. I observed Roy to see that his attention had finally been grabbed by something other than me. Curiously I followed his line of sight to find that Riza had returned into the room holding a large cardboard box. I tried prying into my memories of venturing into her closet, recalling no such thing even existing. Of course I hadn't really delved all that deeply into the searching process. There had to have been some things I've missed. Like this mysterious box. And why did she feel the need to take it out?

"Misaki," she regarded. In response I crease my temple. Her eyes narrow and I fear just whatever it was she seemed desperate to say. Would the tension of tonight ever fade? If I'd known how everything would have turned out, I wouldn't have bothered myself with the attempt at escaping in the first place. Or was it really considered escaping? Hadn't I simply been running away?

Suddenly I'm drowning in an ocean of uncertainty. I feel like an idiot. By doing what I had thought to be right, I'd caused more trouble than I was worth.

Why? Why? Why?

"What made you decide to run off suddenly?"

Since I don't know the answer anymore it seems, I remain to myself. Riza refrains from doing the same. She asks me once more, then again and again. From behind, Roy pockets his hands and passes a disapproving scowl. He clears his throat.

"Lieutenant. She's been through enough as is," he assures for my sake. Impatiently, the sniper shakes her head. Her eyes now search through my expression, pinpointing pressure points, trying to get me to crack. I've yet to realize the severity of her worries until now. The good woman seemed on the verge of tears. I knew she wouldn't dare reveal such exposure to a full audience, but the struggle itself is uncomfortable enough. It's almost impossible to keep strict eye contact with her breaking composure.

"She is fully capable of answering such a simple question," she retorts, hardly passing a menacing glance at the Colonel who went rigid. I wonder just how often the Lieutenant took to disobeying such orders from her own superior. The Colonel was lenient enough for it to happen frequently. Was this a true partnership? Did one always have to ignore a command to ensure a close bond? Or could two function through blind orders? Like following under a sheltered puppet master. Like King Bradley.

I clench my jaw. Roy makes to approach Riza. As his hand reached out for the comforts of her shoulder, whether for his sake or hers, she made a fantastic display of shriveling away like he were a poisonous viper. The movement pushes her closer to me, blowing up those ferociously delicate eyes, raising the level of intimidation I felt ebbing from her irises. Shamefully I toss my gaze away to the ground. Just how was I to take in this woman's heatful stare? How could I break down into my poor, tragic tale? I couldn't possibly.

"Why?" she asks once more with a new twinge of acid. It's as though I've been downgraded to a criminal. This is an interrogation for finding the motives to my actions. I'm in the spotlight and my own companion has turned against me, watching me in a different light. A part of me wishes so badly to confess all my atrocious sins just to have this searingly painful brightness leave me be. Sweat drizzles down my neck and I fight to let out something - anything - relatively understandable, but all that comes blubbering out are the sad whimpers of a dog.

"Well?" Riza hisses and I shrink away helplessly. Much to my surprise, Roy swoops back for another attempt at defending me, his body planting itself between me and his dear subordinate. Almost protectively, an arm pulls out like shield. Even with the blockage I can still distinguish the tense stature of Riza about ready to lash out.

"Enough," Roy growls. I can't seem to keep myself from staring at his back, vulnerable. This man, this military official, is actually idiotic enough to allow himself to turn his back to me. Such a display of vulnerability would be considered the highest praise to a knight back in Aerugo. The unspoken message of supreme trust.

I remember all the backs I'd been entrusted with, all those promises I made to ensure I never broke that code of loyalty. I also remember all those same uniforms I'd ruined with their own blood.

"Do you not see how damaged she is?" Riza snarled. Her finger flew outward to point out my repulsive marks. Unconsciously I flinch. The wound had already bled through and was warm to the touch. My feet, which I'd tried to cover with the carpeted floor, were raw and blistered. A nasty bruise circled my jaw and having not yet taken a proper shower, I was far more gruesome than I felt, which really wasn't that much of a difference. It'd been equivalent to a war, trying to convince everyone to keep from taking me straight to the hospital. Roy had tried supporting me through the entirety of the conversation, but by his tone I knew he had to have disagreed with my intentions like the others. And now with Riza yelling I knew that war was far from over.

"That, Lieutenant, is exact my point," my defender continues, glancing back over his shoulder to regard my disbelieving expression. I quickly avert my eyes and accidently come across the fiery rage of Riza. Something sour claws its way through my gut and I suddenly realize just how exhausted I am from tonight's events.

"The least we all deserve is some explanation. Don't you dare tell me you haven't been wanting to find out, yourself," Riza went on, raising her arms towards the Hughes quietly spectating from the corner. "All of us." They said nothing, but by the way Gracia seemed to grow smaller, I knew Riza had hit the nail. Even Roy kept sneaking glances that screamed agreement. The way this argument was turning worried me.

"Of course I want to hear her side of the story, but I'm only saying that we don't have to right now. Let the girl rest," Roy insisted, his shoulders shuddering with a ragged breath he exhaled. The stress he's taking on is obvious enough. The sight makes my lingering impulse to reach out and tug his coat stronger. But I refrain, because that is ridiculous.

Bitterly, Riza let out a bark of a laugh. "Oh. Right. Let's put another tag on this one and have a friendly conversation later." She angrily pries open the box before her, huffing to herself. "Like I haven't heard that plan before."

"I've never seen such inappropriate behavior," Roy says softly, darkly. "Especially from the likes of you. You're acting like a child."

Riza's head snapped upward to reveal a gut-wrenchingly ferocious glare. My stomach lurched.

"Are you, of all people, actually accusing me of acting like a child?" Her voice went shrill, triggering Gracia's pained grimace, Maes' tense stance. The room grew hot and my blood began to boil as the situation seemed to go completely out of hand. Bullet after bullet of words were shot between the two and there I sat watching them incredulously, thinking: what are they yelling at each other for? It wasn't as if they had reason to bicker amongst one another. Hadn't I been the one who started this silly charade?

I note the faint scratches and dark marks on the Colonel's turned away face. Absurdly I wondered how a man of his fighting abilities could allow a single punch or jab from meager ruffians in an alley. The damage was far too great to let pass by as pure luck.

"I don't see how yelling solves anything."

"We searched the whole damn place for hours. Hours. Seeing as how she was barely able to stand a few days ago, yes, of course I'd be worried sick!"

"I understand that, but she's here now. There's no need to cry over spilled milk."

Riza's clenched hands shook violently, squeezing repeatedly in a sort of fixed rhythm. My cheeks felt flushed. I needed to say something to stop this madness, this rubbish talk.

"I'm only asking for her to answer one question. Just one. What is the harm in answering one measly question?"

Gracia, like a shadow, appears at Riza's side, her eyes drawn with guilt. Astonished by how seemingly stealthy the girl had been, I fix myself to her sudden eagerness to add to the dispute.

"I-" she pauses, undeliberately adding dramatic effect to whatever it was she would say next. "I, too… I agree with Riza."

Like a blade to the chest, she shoots me an apologetic look. "I want to know why you did such a reckless thing," she added, sounding the surest she'd ever been since I'd arrived. Maes approached from backstage, weary.

"Same," he simply stated.

Roy's shoulders went slack and I knew I wouldn't be able to escape from the hurricane I was long due for. But was I ready? Could I possibly tell them anything about why I'd left? Would I ever manage to even get the first word out?

Everyone's eyes settle on me, sitting still with hands folded neatly upon my lap. They don't see how badly my knees bump into one another or how my feet seemed incapable of ceasing the up and down motions of my hidden anxiety. It's preposterous how I even try to put up with a cool, composed appearance, like formality in a setting such as this would grant me the blessing of ending off a friendly, happy-go-round note. My heart practically sabotages itself, running miles it was never designed to run.

I study the box before me, wanting desperately to have something distracting, something to pull me away from this tenseness. But no one is speaking and I know how I can't bear to go through much more of these quiet, quiet screams. I have to answer.

But I can't. I can't do it. I just can't. Not now. Not yet.

And I realize I've said 'yet'. I know what I mean by using such a frightening word. It's a gateway to possibilities and it terrifies me, but after tonight, after seeing how I'd done the damage already, I want to believe. I want to hang onto that single syllable and see where it lands me.

That is, if they are still allowing me to wish for such an impossible thing.

"You know what?"

When Riza speaks once again, I sense a powerful emotion about to be thrown. Here it comes, fatal ammunition. Here I'll lose what I'd unknowingly gained.

"Forget it."

Heavy weight slams against my chest. An object. A hilt. Roy exclaims furiously. The pain is hardly worth crying over compared to what followed next.

"You want to take off and risk your life again? Well-" She spat out the remainder of her message, looking about ready to take off herself. "Be my guest."

And with that, the good Lieutenant stormed off into her room, slamming the door behind her. The impact rattled within me, shaking my inner core. I cradled the very thing she'd thrown at me, the precious object I'd almost left behind.

"Miso- Misaki," Roy calls from the distance. I barely have the strength to reply. "The Lieutenant has a strange way of expressing worriment." He turns to fixate his gaze along the jeweled edges of my sheathed item. My glorious, precious, terrible gift. "She didn't mean that last bit."

Yes, I thought to myself, but as for the rest of her rant…

"You have to understand that we really do care for you," Gracia spoke, walking forward to crouch at eye-level with me. Her fingers reached out hesitantly to thread through strands of my tangled hair, carefully working through the mess and trying not to trigger any pain. Beaten down, I complied and leaned into the touch.

"I don't see why you should," I murmur. And I really didn't. Nothing about tonight had made the least bit of sense. Who were these people? Who were they to demonstrate such dramatic displays over me?

Gracia sighed, reaching out to tuck her fingers beneath my chin, lowering my gaze to hers.

"Misaki, dear," she whispers, the corners of her eyes filling up. "What happened to you?"

This was far too much for me to handle. Stiffening, I felt my eyes narrow. Almost icily I ripped away from her touch.

No more. I was fed up with this shit. This pitiful game of tending to the guest and playing family. Sickening. It was suffocating. I would have preferred the fate leading to my damnation than this.

Finished. No more pretending that everything would be okay. No more.

"Why should I tell you anything?" I spoke softly, darkly. Shadows looked over my hardening stare, filling them with hate, hate, hate. Gracia's entire being seemed to shiver with sudden fear. Maes, alarmed by my bitterness came to his wife's side, taking a protective stance.

Just as he should.

Suddenly I let out a low chuckle. The sword within my hands glistened a comforting blue. The handsome sheath of jewels shone like Ritzu's mesmerizing eyes and I felt a lump form within my throat.

Somehow, even with my already unstable mind, I knew I was disappearing. I knew that I'd finally cracked and I was doomed to losing all sense of morality, all that I was born to follow. My father's guidelines to be kind and loving. My mother's lessons to be forgiving and trusting. But what did it matter? Papa was dead. Mama left me to die, never bothering to explain why. I was unwanted. So it was only logical for me to realize no one would want me. Because I was a monster created to be hated. A demon.

"All of you put on a great show and everything, but I'm done," I continued, partially drawing my weapon out. I rubbed my thumb along the exposed edge of my blade, watching a stream of red run along my skin. "I will be taking my leave now."

Maes glasses reflected a stream of light into my line of vision, distorting the room. His kind eyes softened, and he attempted a single step forward, stopping just at the tip of my drawn sword. Gracia let out a panicked gasp. No way to back out now, I would leave Amestris. No matter the consequences.

"Misaki. What do you think you're doing?" that damn voice asked. That voice that started all of this nonsense, this illusion of a paradise. Slowly I turned to meet his heated gaze, surprised to find not a hint of anger, but confusion. Such innocence. It disgusted me.

Without moving my blade, I shakily offered a small smile.

"I said I'll be taking my leave, Colonel."

On that note, I started to get up, grimacing at the soreness of my feet. A sudden twitch sparked the fighter within me and I made to duck beneath the outstretched arms of Roy, ending up besides the box with my other few items. As my newly identified pursuer prepared himself for his next sloppy attempt at capture, I quickly snatched from my inventory a small knife, slinging my sword at my shoulder while finding just the right point to slip the aquired blade barely against the soft, precious skin of Gracia.

Maes howled furiously and I felt a piece of me die once more.

What was I doing?

"Misaki!"

The two soldiers stood before me, unable to move at fear of innocent blood being spilt. Gracia trembled beneath my relentless grip and I had to hold in the urge to let go. This was only fair. How else would these people let me leave? It wasn't as if I was planning to kill anyone. Not tonight.

"I'm leaving," I stated, leering at the paralyzed men through the tangles of Gracia's hair. I couldn't see her face, but by the way she seemed unable to speak, I knew she was afraid. Everyone was meant to be afraid of me. Now she and the others hated me. Yes, now they would let me go. They'd leave me to my misery and forget and go on with their bullshit of a fairytale life. I'd go off into the real world because that was who I was. A realist. This fantasy of a break had officially ended-

"No," a small voice breathed.

My stomach lurched and I watched as Gracia gradually struggled against my clutches to look back at my dumbstruck expression. The most unsettling detail I couldn't possibly fail to notice was her genuine smile. Despite gambling with the hands of death itself, she was able to pass a smile that spelled not pity or sadness. It was- What the hell was it? Why the hell was she looking at me like that? What-

Maes tried for another approach seeing that my attention had wavered. Immediately I snapped back to (or maybe it was lostness) awareness, tightening the blade against the base of Gracia's throat. She let out a quiet yelp of surprise, looking away for the briefest of seconds. But just as quickly, she spoke once more.

"This won't change anything."

I gritted my teeth in frustration, shaking my head.

"And why is that?" I demanded, finding myself growing fearful of the way I wasn't using the opportunity to run. I could leave a mark on her, distracting Maes and worrying only of Roy. Or I could take off with her as my hostage until I reached a safe point to let her go, unharmed-

Would they really pursue me? Were they that determined to keep me captive?

"Because you won't hurt her."

I snapped my scorching gaze to the Colonel, infuriated by the truthness of his words. He was right. How could I? I could act the bad guy here all I wanted, but there was No way I could possibly go through harming these people. Not after all they'd done for me. That wasn't who I was.

Then what- why- why-

WHY? WHY? WHY?

What was wrong with me? What was I doing? What was I?

"You can threaten us all you want," Gracia went on, still talking- stop talking- be quiet please- please don't speak anymore- stop. "But it won't change the fact that we refuse to let you go."

WHY?

"She's right," Roy said, pocketing his hands to pull out a pair of gloves. I tense, glowering at his stupidity. Would he dare try for one of his tricks in here of all places? With Gracia's life on the line?

"We all have our demons. You're no different than us," Maes added, his face eerily somber. Flames of fury ignited within my chest and I screamed for his silence.

"How dare you compare yourselves to me!? We are nothing alike!"

"We're very much alike, Misaki," Roy replied calmly and I noticed he hadn't bothered with slipping on the fabric. Rather, there seemed something different about them. Something uniquely familiar...

"We're haunted by the past. Everyday. We may have been dressed in different colors, but we were all soldiers then. Murderers," Roy went on with his speech, bundling the material in his hands before very cautiously tossing them to the table beside me.

I recalled flames licking at my skin and went rigid. Sweat pooled at the base of my neck. I hardly remembered how to breathe. The room swayed and pulsed and I finally managed to note the beautifully crafted curves and shapes of the alchemy circle upon those gloves. Up close I could pay heed to the intricate details that were far different from the Colonel's simplistic style. The mark of wind. The same design that was tattooed upon my ankles.

Gracia shifted once more to regard my shock. The hand holding the blade slackened just the tiniest bit and I held in her gaze with helplessness.

"Why are you people so set on getting me to stay? Everyone else leaves me alone, so why can't you?"

I hated this whiny side to me. I detested every bit of it. The way my voice broke and lost its boldness. How my legs seemed so close to folding beneath me, once so faithful and dependable. I had so many versions of who was and wasn't me that- I couldn't... I didn't know anymore. I hardly felt like a person.

I didn't even remember what provoked me to stand in the first place. Where did I intend to go? Just away?

A soft click resonated the room and yet another voice fought its way into my mind. Rich with certainty and thick with its usual superiority.

"Because, you idiot, you've finally come across people who are stubborn enough to chase after you."

Riza stood within the doorway, holding to a bundle of clothes, standing at her tallest. One would have never imagined she'd lost her cool only moments ago. I hardly believed it.

I hardly believed anything that transpired that night.

"What... do you mean?" I asked, because I had to understand. I needed to comprehend this gibberish the woman spoke. Or I'd lose it. More than I already have.

She sighed, putting setting down what looked to be a set of pajamas. As though dismissing the fact I held onto Gracia in an uncomfortable manner, she walked forward until she was practically arms length away from where I stood wide-eyed. Before I even registered what was happening, Gracia was out of my grasp and Riza had my wrist in her own grip, desperate to hold on. It was as though my mind simply allowed it. Like I'd given up long before this started.

Maes exhaled loudly, embracing his beloved while shooting Riza an appreciative smile. Roy, looking far from relaxed, dipped his shoulders in the only sign of relief. I blinked at the blade still in my palm, wondering if I'd really threatened one of them just seconds ago.

"The Colonel is partially right about us being the same," the sniper said, gently lowering my wrist so the point faced down to the ground, harmless. "We all have something we're guilty of. Things of the past that haunt us even to this day." With a subtle glance at Roy, she frowned. "However you- You have a much stronger demon on your shoulders. One most people would be terrified of getting involved with."

Like nails to the chest, I wince. These brutal truths, the horrid pain of recognizing these answers. I'd always known this, but it was a matter of accepting it. It was never easy to admit. The hopelessness of my case. But with someone else saying it, how was I supposed to deny?

"However, as you know, we're extremely stubborn individuals." She took a moment to harbor a weak-willed smile, gesturing to the others behind her, listening with deep intent. "We're a little messed up. You're extremely messed up. The difference is in the pronouns."

"And we're looking to change that," said Gracia, rubbing at her neck, beaming. "Like it or not, we've grown quite smitten with you and are determined to bring you into this messed up family of ours."

"You're quite the catch," Maes picked up, following in with the unsettling cheeriness with his wife. "Even if you just put my sweetheart at knife point, it's hard to be convinced that you're a cold-blooded killer. Especially since I've seen how you get when you take the train or play a killer game of hide and seek." With that, he cast a quick wink and earned the briefest of blushes.

"Not to mention, we understand just how madly in love you are with Roy-boy here," he cooed, wrapping his arm around the Colonel's re-stiffening shoulders. "He refuses to let a woman like you get away so easi-"

With a smack to the forehead, Maes crumbled down to the floor, Roy shaking his head irritably.

"Don't go scaring her off again, Maes," he grumbled.

I was at a loss. Once again everyone had thrown me off. What I wanted to do, it was a blur. I was deprived of the previous adrenaline, left to the sobering effect of the moment.

I was so incredibly lost.

"But you said-" I tried to argue, remembering Riza's dagger-like words that helped spark this disaster.

"I know what I said and I regret it," she interjected. "I was upset. I shouldn't have said such cruel things. I didn't mean anything besides the fact that I was concerned for your safety."

"But that's what I don't get," I snapped, fed-up with all this repeating. Circling back to square one. "Why should you be?"

"Well why shouldn't I be?" she retorted with a slight edge. She seemed so upset by my sensible complaints that I couldn't help but cackle. My blood ran hot and I was fully aware of how idiotic I would be to do what I was about to do. To actually reveal such a vulgar display before the eyes of an innocent and three of my once-enemies of the field.

"You're all idiots if you think I could ever be deserving of your pity."

"It's not pity-" Riza tried interrupting.

"Whatever it is, it's not necessary. Such acts should be saved for those not of such low-life. I'm a beast damned to be alone, and I cannot stand idly by and let you all be deceived into believing I could ever be 'saved'"

"We're n-" cried out Gracia.

"I'm nowhere near having, and never will be, a life like this. Don't you understand?" I took a lone step back into the direction of the door, raising my blade at the sight of Roy advancing. He froze at my deranged look, focusing on my restless hand. "I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster," Gracia said frantically, eyeing the knife I was slowly raising. "You saved Riza-"

"That was before," I answered curtly. Roy dared another step and I took one of my own in the opposite direction.

"You had many chances to kill us, but you didn't," Riza mentioned and I flinched. "A monster is a cold-blooded killer who would have slaughtered us in a heartbeat." She folded her arms, dimming her eyes. "You fit no such description."

My jaw clenched. I didn't know why I felt so set on convincing them that I was a horrid creature meant to be distrusted, but I grew desperate. I needed to repel them (but did I really?) I had to go back to being alone (but I didn't want to) I couldn't stand this (but I loved it).

"You were afraid for the girl who tried to kill you. The girl who attacked you in the woods." Riza continued as Roy casually strolled right before me. "Would a monster care if her pursuer was dead?"

"But if you knew why she was trying to kill me in the first pl-"

"That's the thing," Roy said, mere inches away from the dagger that hovered just above my breast, pointed at his stoic nature. "We don't know. And by the way you're absolutely dreadful at telling your side of the story, I have a feeling it'd be difficult to convince us of your beastliness."

They were fighting so hard to keep me cornered; to have me admit that it'd be reasonable for me to stay.

"Stop running."

I'd never had anyone fight for me. Only fight against. It was strange.

What should I do? What was I expected to do? The circumstances were wavering. My mind was in shambles. I couldn't seem to do anything. Pathetic. So terribly pathetic. I-

"Actually, scratch that," Roy continued, catching me off guard. I'd hardly noticed when he'd reached above my weaponry, gradually placing his palm upon my skin to lower it. "Stop thinking for once."

And just as I was about to argue, right as my mouth opened to spill more foul words, he leaned forward and something bizarre happened.

The trap had been sprung. I'd been ensnared. I wasn't going anywhere.

Hello:)

I'm so, so, so, so sorry for the huuuuuuuuge space of time!

I've been so incredibly busy with my Senior school and what-not!

Of course, I only have a few more weeks to go before I'm FREE!

How are you all? Do send me a message when you get the time and I'd LOVE to reply with a random chat!

Thanks for reading my ever so dedicated peeps~~

You guys inspire me to write3

((Oh, and I'm so sorry about the lameness of this chapter... I've grown a bit rusty!))

*If you'd like Misaki and the gang to take any questions or perform a little skit, I'll be sure to update my Conversations with Alchemists! Just let me know:)

I love you all!

~Alliwonderland out,