The storm was coming.

The thunder tore through the sky, threatening nightmares to many souls shielded under the roof. It rumbled against the chains of the resistance it had tightened around the savage dark clouds. The winds were wild, violent, mighty with arrogance.

Many pedestrians sought their home, making quick runs, some abandoning their umbrellas after losing control over them against the gales. All hearts feared the storm.

Paris stood still. A different whirlwind awakened inside her. Her body constantly throbbed from the injuries. She was hungry, angry, thirsty, and petrified. The witnessed murder did not vanish from her memory as it would permanently stick with her.

I could not save him....I could not save him....I COULD NOT SAVE HIM... Her mind screamed, and her heart bled with remorse.

Kehan died helping her. That thought had forever bruised Paris; she would never recover from it. His lifeless, cold, bloodied body in his own pool of blood would haunt Paris eternally.

Kehan deserved better, and so did Paris. It was not about only Paris now; the girl that died by Julian's wrath deserved better. They deserved to live and lead a good life. They deserve justice, but the law failed them. Julian was free of jail and remorse, still had enough willpower to attempt another murder. He would kill as many as he wished with no consequences or explanation for his actions. He has almost become indestructible.

Ruby said Julian was chasing after her, but till what end? How can people kill the person they love? Paris thought Julian at least cared for her by the way he transpired his words. His ocean of consummate and egregious lies had her daydreaming of a changing world that didn't exist. He was hoped as a good friend to Paris, but she had doubted it to be too true to be good.

He never explained why he wanted her dead from the beginning, But now he wants her dead because she knows his crimes. He told her.

The rain poured heftily upon people thriving to survive it, who were not afraid, and people making their way through it.

Paris only soaked herself, hoping to cleanse her atrocities. Her intense thoughts didn't care about the stinging droplets, roaring thunder, or bacterial diseases. Her mind only weighted the reflections of the punishments worthy for her cowardness.

If her heart had not been so afraid of Ruby or her adrenaline would not have forced her to save herself first, then Kehan might have been alive, or she could've died with him. That would've been better.

She was too scattered to look for Edmund to inform him about Kehan's tragic murder. She left the luxurious residency without seeing anyone, only hoping for people to find Kehan themselves. She was too ashamed to tell anyone that she survived, and Kehan did not because she didn't try to save him. She let him suffer alone because she couldn't take on his culprit.

She could only think about Kehan, Jordan, and the girls that died.

I'd be one of them soon....

The livid version of the murder of Kehah perturbed her, but she never believed that Jordan was dead. As if that could happen, could that?

Upon instinctive reaction, her swollen-red eyes stung for crying too long and hard, compelling her to realize her pain. She still needed treatment and more of psychiatric treatment, but first, it was physical. Her body was aching from almost every corner. At least her stomach wasn't grumbling from emptiness.

Her numb feet renounced her capacity to walk any further after walking miles, and her drenched self screamed for some warmth, yet she refrained from sparing any tenderness to her limps. It was not an honorable walk after all that she should be resting after it. It was a shame walk.

The dimly lightened streets were nearly empty, which prompted Paris to reflect on her companionship status with Julian: empty. They were never allies or had any other relation. He only thought her as an impediment and playtoy in his forlornness for a life.

'This is Jordan McAvoy. Please leave a message--' She heard it the umpteenth time and still couldn't believe the validity of his death. He had sent the files of his investigations a day ago but no location of his whereabouts. Did Julian complete his burial? What about his family? Did someone inform them, or are they still waiting for him at home? Why would Julian care enough to complete his burial? He killed him.

Her anger boiled at the mere thought of Julian Anthony Perreault, but tears followed, spilling her agony at the deliberations of his transgressions.

They were no need to kill all those innocent people, Julian. She wanted to scream her thoughts at him and curse him for being the bane of her life.

She almost collapsed at the hospital threshold, dragging herself to the reception before admitting herself. The hospital was the only option as warning of Ruby against meeting her family didn't go unobliging. Paris knew better than to disregard her forewarning. Julian could outdo any limits.

The nurses and doctors were bewildered by her sudden appearance. Drenched in the storm, bleeding and dry slashes covered her body that'd leave scars later and a gloomy persona unstable on her feet. They laid her down, and she instantly passed out before stating how she fell down the stairs.

It was a suspicious statement for them, but the other patients kept them busy from pondering. She was not trying to hide anything but the attention she would get after involving these people would make it hard for her to get out of here.

Maldeor had become suffocating for her, and staying here would only confine her more. It is a place for her family, where she knows how safe and sound there are. She wouldn't ruin that safety for them while not underestimating Julian again. If lingering in Maldeor could risk her family's safety, she wouldn't dare go near them.

The tears she emitted in three days would fill a bucket, but her agony only flared by the recent events that her bodily injuries only felt like scraps. None of her bones were broken, with a slight concussion detected on her head, with narrowly damaged leg muscles.

"Chris?" She called her brother in the tranquil of the night, quietly speaking on the phone due to carefulness in providing silence to other general ward patients. "How are you doing?"

"PARIS!" His panic-stricken yell ringed in her ear, almost deafening her in the process, "Where the hell are you? We were so worried about you. I called Julian and Jordan, but now neither is picking up. What's going on, Paris? We are scared." He must be aggressively pacing that explained his panting.

"Chris...Jordan is dead." There was a defying silence.

"What-What...are you talking about? How--How is that possible?" His head spins.

"We'll talk about this later, okay?"

"Is that Paris, Chris?" She heard her mother taking over the phone, "Paris? Is that really you?"

"Yes, mom." Paris sighs.

"What the hell, Paris?" She heard her yell. "Paris August, you are so dead once you come home." She laughed through tears and heard Christopher laughing in the back, probably confusing their mother. "Whatever, Where are you? I want you to come home ASAP."

"Mom, I can't...come home."

"What? Why?"

"Because..."

"Is Julian with you? What's wrong with that guy? Christopher went to his house to pick you up, but he shut the door on his face after saying that you're not home. Where the hell were you that time?"

In the dungeon getting tortured, mom. She tightened her tongue instead. If she's planning to leave Maldeor, then it'd be better not to tell them anything.

"It doesn't matter. I am leaving soon for New York."

"Soon? How soon? And you are leaving without seeing us?"

"I have to."

'What's the emergency, Paris?"

Biting her lower lips, "I...Uhm, Mom--"

"You still haven't forgiven us, have you?"

"That's not all, mom. I don't even care about those things anymore."

"Are you alright, then?"

"I...don't think so. It's..." She hears Suzzan releasing deep breaths.

"It's okay. You don't have to come to see us. We can understand." Paris shudders and brushes the new tears.

"I wish I could tell you, but later. I promise."

"You'll call at least, right?"

"Of course. I'll call as soon as everything's over."

"We'll wait, then. Take care, sweetheart."

"Don't wait too long, though. Take care of yourself, Christopher and Sarah." Her voice quivers.

"I will. We love you."

"I love all you too."

Before hanging up, "And...we're really sorry...for everything. I hope you forgive us."

"You're forgiven."

Final goodbyes were over, and now, Paris lay tossing and turning onto the hospital bed, silent tears yet again poring down her scraped cheeks.

Her edging angst kept her awake that even exhaustion couldn't help her insomnia. Her mind sets upon the received possession, and her body moves towards it.

Into the past midnight, her eyes wander around the words that were presumed to depict the reminiscences of Monica's life.

Paris was supposed to keep the dairy but didn't know for how long, and she didn't mind either.

There were only a few pages to read with a few entries by Monica, but it was enough disclosure to understand the deep sense of anguish expressed. Even the happy and conventional entries made Paris poignant.

The last words only expressed her love for Julian and how much Monica wanted a happy cessation with him. She had planned the wedding even if he went to prison, Monica still wanted him.

Monica wanted all of Julian. She wished to heal him and make him understand his mistakes.

Whereas Julian never even tried.

With the last thoughts of Julian and Monica on her mind, Paris falls asleep.

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