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THE END IS NEAR.

In an affluent neighborhood within the limits of Detroit, Michigan, there is a big, brick mansion.

On the third floor of this mansion, there's a small bedroom with lavender walls and a big window that overlooks the backyard. This room is oddly clean for something that belongs to a teenager. It's surgical, lacking in personal affects. The bed is kept, void of stuffed animals but full of throw pillows, and the only pop of color on the walls is a signed 90210 poster that sits amongst framed academic and sports awards.

Rory stands in the center of this room-- her room-- and fights to balance on the chair she stands on. There's a box of pushpins at her feet.

It's been a week since Rory returned home from the Junior Goodwill Games, and the copies of the photos Julie took just arrived via mail. With her father out of the house, an email from Averman on its way, and all of her work for the day done, she figured that she'd finally bite the bullet and finally put the pictures up on the wall. Her wall.

So, armed with the tools she stole from one of the offices, she started pinning up the photos.

(This area of the wall, right above her desk, was previously inhabited by one of the student of the year awards she won in elementary. She has so many awards without it that she looks like a boastful jackass, so she doesn't think her father will notice.)

"What are you up to?"

Rory glances back at her future step-mother and hums innocently. "Nothing."

"Sure doesn't look like nothing."

Krystal has the decency to close the door behind her as she steps inside.

"I'm putting up pictures of me and my friends from the games." She elaborates, turning back to what she's doing so she doesn't stab herself with the pin. "And waiting for my boyfriend to email me back."

"Oh. That's nice."

Rory can hear the blonde sit on her bed and she tries to keep it out of the back of her mind as she starts putting the last photo up.

"What's up, Krystal?" She asks, a little ruder than she intended.

"I... would like to speak to you. Whenever you're ready, of course."

"Okay..."

She finishes her job and then somehow, despite the wobbling of the chair, gets her feet back on solid ground. But, because of the predicament she's found herself in, Rory doesn't get to admire her work.

"Are you feeling alright?" She crosses her arms over her chest and making sure to maintain her distance.

"I'm fine." Krystal all but forces out. She looks just as pale as she did when she flew out to LA but she's trembling, now. Rory wonders if she's just thrown up. "I just-- I don't exactly know how to have this conversation. This is my first time."

Rory nods. Her eyebrows are knit with unvoiced concern.

"It's a girl."

"What?"

"The baby-- you're going to have a little sister, Rory."

Her eyes grow a tad wider. For a moment, her mind wants to be excited. It wants her to smile and cheer, and hug Krystal as she offers her congratulations. But her body reacts differently. Her shoulders fall and her stomach twists so sharply that it hurts.

"Oh."

"You need to protect her, Rory." Krystal says, her voice brittle and terrified. "I can't do this alone. I can't give a little girl up to your family. I need you to help me protect her."

Speechless, Rory takes a seat next to her and digs the palms of her hands into her eyes.

A little sister.

A baby girl.

God, her father is going to be so disappointed.

Rory looks up from the floor to meet Krystal's gaze. A stiff silence overcomes them.

She doesn't know what to say, and Krystal has said all that she can say, so they, the two women taxed to exist in the life of a man who just can't fit a whole woman in his head, just stand there and stare into each other's eyes.

Rory doesn't feel as though any weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

She's not winning here.

Neither is Krystal.

Neither is her baby.

They're all doomed. They're passengers on a sinking ship.

Rory puts her hands on Krystal's shoulders and squeezes, attempting a smile. Krystal tries to smile, too, and reaches up to squeeze Rory's fingers in return.

The least they could do, she supposes, is hold each other on the way down.

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Hi! Welcome to my new and improved (super, duper messed up) way of introducing the tone of the sequel!

Yeah, that's right. You read that correctly.

To those of you who have just read this for the first time: this book has a sequel!

This sequel, titled "poppies (lester averman)" will be up on my profile shortly after this is posted. It will detail the events of D3, and extra divergent content revolving around Rory. Poppies will have a much darker tone than this book! It features a lot of corporate drama, incredible amounts of angst, and teenagers doing what they do best: being messy. If that's your cup of tea, then stay tuned. If not... Well, I guess you can skip to the epilogue, I guess.

(There might also be an AU book or two posted, but that's for me to worry about and you to panic over *wink* )

I can't believe how far this story came! I'm so glad I chose to rewrite it because I really, truly did despise so many aspects about the original.

I hope you guys enjoyed this rewritten rendition of pretty, and I'm excited to see what the future holds in regards to the next book!

Thanks for sticking around. See y'all on the other side.

Love,
Your Author, Grace

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