ddlg Salutatorians (Mature) (Chapter Seven)

[Baby Jemma]

(Yes, I know I should continue my Dragon Quest AR story, but three ideas for this site have really struck me lately - one of which, thus far, is eighty-four Google Doc pages thus far, and likely will push into the 500-page range. No, this is not that story; I want to absolutely finish it before posting here - and this is the one I've found the most time working on lately, so this is the story I'm gonna post here. I don't know at what intervals I can post it; I thought I had it with the Dragon Quest story, but I have three chapters done so far, and I'm closing in on a fourth and more. Let's just say a monthly updating schedule?)

(Anyway, this is Salutatorians! It's a much darker spin on a Daddy Dom-Little Girl story, not because of any punishments or sexual stuff in particular - the former because I'm not into punishments by a parental figure because I've had those punishments done as a kid for no reason in the past and I'm averse to it, and the latter because I'm a virgin and won't write sex scenes when I have no idea how to write them - but because of just how dark this story gets for the characters. As trigger warnings, suicide, mental illness, violence, abuse of children (including sexual (not shown), physical, and emotional), domestic violence, cursing (including sexist rhetoric), and explicit description of injury (including blood, broken bones, and torn ligaments).)

(If you haven't been scared off yet, I promise to write this story to the best of my ability, and I promise that, while I will not shy away from any of those trigger warnings, I will write it as tactfully and as respectfully to those who still wish to read it as I possibly can. These things are not in the story for anything other than plot reasons; this, I swear with all of my heart and soul. But I've said my piece. It's up to you if you want to read or not. I hope you'll read, but I won't be upset if you don't; I'm writing this story as much for me as for you.)

EDIT: About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it.

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Chapter One: Yet Another Date.

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Eiluned Mostyn was silent as she prepared her large black tote bag, black gloves, an ankle-length black hooded down coat, and a hot-pink scarf for the cold February Minnesota weather, ready for another dinner date.

 

The college sophomore - formerly from Torfaen, Wales (Cwmbran, if one wanted to get personal) - had tried for a fair few dates with men on Tinder. Those fair few had claimed they were Welsh, claimed they knew her from school or whatever, claimed a lot of things that, after she dug deeper, weren’t true. She always ended up swiping left for most of the cases, and the few dates she had gone for had gone nowhere.

 

This new guy seemed interesting…because she remembered him from a long while back.

 

Ifor Sealy. Just a month older than she was, both of them being twenty years of age. Moved to Tennessee from Wales like she had (except he had been from Bridgend). She remembered him from middle school in eighth grade before she moved away to Minnesota the following year, and lost contact with him.

 

And now he showed up? Out of the blue? Like nothing ever happened?

 

Sure, Eiluned had done her research; the profile proved that he was exactly who he said he was, and for some reason, according to his Facebook and Twitter pages, he had transferred to Minnesota - THE University of Minnesota, where she was studying mechanical engineering - for reasons all his own (i.e., football).

 

But why? Why had he moved here, of all the places he could’ve moved? Surely it didn’t have to do with…her, right?

 

No, couldn’t be. Absolutely couldn’t be!

 

She shook her head and shivered as she stepped into the chilly evening air, got into her car - a beat up Honda - turned the key into the ignition, and drove off to the meeting site: Hell’s Kitchen Minneapolis, a popular hotspot for the college crowd.

 

It wasn’t that far, but she didn’t feel comfortable walking to dates. Too many horror stories, and she was smarter than that. She was one of the best students, a salutatorian in her Minnesota high school. She worked hard for everything she had. And yet…

 

Eiluned froze, trying to drive…it out of her mind. It was her own horror story that made her this way. She didn’t want to think about it. It was something she had worked hard to get rid of, and yet, it was always at the back of her mind, and it stayed there on the short drive to the place, all the way until she pulled into the parking lot, where Ifor was already there, apparently waiting for her.

 

The first thing about Ifor that she noted was that he was a lot bigger than her (although she shouldn’t have been surprised; he was an offensive line transfer from Vanderbilt). She was small at 5’1”, 105 pounds, and he absolutely dwarfed her, like a full-grown redwood tree would dwarf a sapling; he had to be 6’7”, 295 pounds. His hair was down past his shoulder blades, a curly ginger mop that he had tucked away from his gleaming ocean-blue eyes; he wouldn’t have looked out of place in a movie about Celtic warriors, except for his gap-toothed grin showing a playful side of him. He wore a coat that was a surprising fit over a black dress shirt, khaki pants, and a pair of worn brown boots that looked like they had at least been cleaned for the date.

 

Well, you certainly dressed to impress, Ifor. Now what do you want?

 

Eiluned sighed, brushing her dark-brown bangs away from her sage-green eyes.

 

"Helo, Ifor,” she began calmly. “Shwmae?”

 

"Da iawn, diolch, Eiluned,” he replied with an accent that was decidedly not Welsh, yet somehow seeming natural to those words; he was a man who had obviously grown up in a Welsh family.

 

She gestured to the sign. “Why here?”

 

Ifor shrugged. “I hear they make a nice Lucy burger, and I’ve never had one before,” he said in a surprising Southern drawl; she had expected him to speak more…Welsh-ly.

 

"Why do you have a Southern accent, Ifor?” she asked, a little more sharply than intended.

 

To his credit, the harshness of the question seemed to roll off him. “I’ve lived in Tennessee since I was almost seven. Sorry, I bet you expected a Welsh accent?”

 

"Then how do I know you’re actually Ifor Sealy and not some creepy imposter?”

 

He sighed before reaching into his pants pocket for his wallet and giving his ID to her. “If there’s a creepy imposter my size using my name, I’d definitely be scared.”

 

She looked at the ID, noted that it was undeniable proof Ifor was who he said he was. “Fine. I apologize for misunderstanding; you can never be too careful.”

 

"If the situations were reversed, I’d do the same thing. So, are we going to stand in the cold for the night or do we go in?”

 

Eiluned nodded. “Let’s go in.”

 

---

(So, this is the first chapter. As a note, those supposedly unpronounceable words are Welsh (which is admittedly not a language I know, so please forgive me if I don't get them right, I tried my best and looked up as much as I could, and I promise to correct them if they're wrong.). I'll give you a quick translation and pronunciation (from what I could find on Google Translate and various sites):

 

(Helo = Hello. Pronounced "hello", obviously.)

 

(Shwmae = How are you? (informal). Pronounced "shoo - mai.)

 

(Da iawn, diolch = Very good, thanks. (Pronounced "da - yaown - dee - och (ch is the same as in "loch".)

 

(Cwmbran = Kuum = brawn)

 

(As for how the story goes...well, we'll certainly see what happens, won't we?)

[Baby Jemma]

Well, it's late to arrive...but here's the next chapter for Salutatorians:

 

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Chapter Two: Heaven's Kitchen.

---

 

It was a fun atmosphere at Hell’s Kitchen Minneapolis.

 

They had gotten a couple of seats at a table next to the bar area, the red floor bright and admittedly devilish-looking.

 

Then Eiluned saw the server who came to them and her heart dropped.

 

Farzana Chatterjee. One of the smartest people Eiluned knew…and her intellectual rival. She knew that Farzana hated her because of getting the salutatorian honors over her in high school, knew that she hated her for whatever physical reason (Eiluned knew she was only pretty. Farzana was drop-dead gorgeous, and more beautiful in damn near every way, with her coffee complexion, a much larger bust, and rich caramel-brown curls, falling down to her waist), knew that she hated her for many reasons.

 

And now Farzana was their server.

 

“Hello, there,” she said with a soft smile, her doe-brown eyes warm and friendly. “Can I get you two anything?”

 

Eiluned looked at the menu quickly, knew what she wanted, looked around, saw that every other server was busy with customers. It was Farzana or nobody else.

 

“I’ll have a Darwin martini,” she said.

 

“I’ll have a Virgin Mary,” Ifor said, seemingly unaware of the history.

 

“Darwin and a Virgin, you got it,” Farzana said, sashaying away to one of the bartenders.

 

“So, this is where you were all this time.” She turned to look at Ifor, his own gap-toothed grin. She remembered that same goofy grin in middle school, the same gap-tooth that seemingly never got fixed, and that same ugly scar on his neck; red, from the front of his neck to the left side.

 

Yeah, that’s Ifor, all right. Where the hell did he get that scar…?

 

“Eiluned?” She turned to face him. “Sorry, if I seem like I’m prying,” he said apologetically.

 

“So you came here for me, is that it?” Eiluned asked calmly.

 

“Well, I never really fit in at Vandy,” Ifor said. “My sister wanted me to go there, but I never really fit in with the culture. I’m hoping Minnesota can help with that. But I admittedly did want to reconnect with you, Eiluned. You were a really nice person, and a fellow Wales native.”

 

“I didn’t think you had a sister?” she asked; from what little she remembered of him, there was an older woman who picked him up from school, but that couldn’t be his sister, right?

 

“Yeah, that was my sister, not my mum,” he said. “Moved in with her to America when I was six.”

 

“Any reason why?”

 

She noted a haunted look in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that she wasn’t sure it was even there. “Mum and Dad died when I was young. Fire. Had nobody left in Wales, so I moved with my sister to Tennessee. She was already eighteen years older than me, so that’s where the confusion must be.”

 

“Any other siblings?” she asked without thinking.

 

He sighed. “An older brother. He’s gone from my life.”

 

His tone made it clear that it wasn’t okay to pry further, and the drinks had arrived. She took a deep sip of the Darwin, tasted the cold coffee in the cocktail. It was delicious.

 

“Anything else you’d like to order?” Farzana asked with a wink at Eiluned.

 

“Let’s try the beer-battered walleye bites as an appetizer,” Eiluned said with a smile of her own. “Walleye’s one of our famous fish from Minnesota, so I figure Ifor here could use a crash course on our cuisine.”

 

“Well, sure, I won’t say ‘no’ to more food,” he admitted. “Yeah, that would be good for now.”

 

“You’ve got it.” Another wink at Eiluned again (why was she winking at her?) before Farzana walked away.

 

“Do you have any family?” he asked with a drink of his own.

 

“Mum, a stepdad, and four older sisters,” she said dismissively, before taking another drink of the Darwin.

 

“I never knew you had older siblings,” Ifor said.

 

“They were in college when I was in middle school,” she said. “Mum never really expected me.”

 

“And your dad?”

 

“Not here.” A half-truth.

 

“Okay, off that, what do you do for fun? What are your hobbies?”

 

She sighed. “I study. I go on dates occasionally. That’s it.” A lie.

 

Ifor’s eyebrows raised. “That’s it? I was a salutatorian myself, SEC Honor Roll, and even I have time for hobbies.”

 

Eiluned gave him a double-take in shock.

 

He was a salutatorian as well? How? He doesn’t seem like the type.

 

“That’s it. I’m not a very interesting person.” A laugh.

 

“Didn’t you like to read a lot in middle school? That’s a hobby, right?”

 

“Stopped reading in high school.” Another lie, but a necessary one; her idea of hobby reading was far different than anyone else’s.

 

“What did you like to read?”

 

Dangerous territory, lie, lie, LIE!

 

“Just nonfiction stuff. For study.”

 

“Sounds interesting. What kind of nonfiction?”

 

He does sound interested…but LIE.

 

“Just stuff for school. Various mechanical stuff, how to make things work; I’m in mechanical engineering, aerospace, mostly.”

 

“Aerospace, huh? Pretty cool! I hear they pay a lot, that there’s a lot of exciting jobs.” He really did sound interested. “I’m in nursing myself.”

 

Her eyebrows raised. “Nursing? For a salutatorian? You could do anything, really. Why nursing?”

 

His eyes had a faraway look. “I’d rather help people more than anything else. I know that football is short, that I’m not going to have an NFL career; I wasn’t even a starter at Vanderbilt, let alone here. But to prove my worth in the world is one thing I want to do. I want to help people. What better way to pay things back than to be a nurse?”

 

Eiluned noted the true sincerity in his tone. Ifor really was a kind-hearted person, even back in middle school, so she shouldn’t have been surprised, but still…

 

You don’t want kind. You don’t DESERVE kind.

 

She took a deep sip of her cocktail, finishing it off. “I just want to get into aerospace and get money. That’s it.”

 

The words came out of her mouth, not meaning anything. She wanted to do more than just make money, even though aerospace would do just that. She wanted to prove herself to…

 

To WHOM, Eiluned? Your mother? Your sisters? Your stepdad? Or…someone else?

 

The walleye bites had arrived without her knowing.

 

“Do you need another cocktail?” Farzana asked them.

 

“Sure, Mexican Mule,” Eiluned replied absentmindedly.

 

“You know, I’ll have a Devilish Daiquiri this time,” Ifor said.

 

“Mexican Mule and Devilish Daiquiri, you’ve got it. And what will be the main course?” Farzana asked, winking at her again.

 

“I’ll have a prime rib French dip, add in sauteed onions, mushrooms, and cheese with tater tots as the side.”

 

Farzana jotted down the order on a notebook. “Got it. And you, sir?”

 

“I’ll have what she’s having and a Juicy Lucifer. French fries on the side.”

 

“Okay, your meals should come shortly.” Another wink at Eiluned before Farzana walked away.

 

“So, your hobbies?” she asked, looking into Ifor’s calm blue eyes, so kind, so warm, so…sad.

 

He must still carry his parents’ deaths with him…

 

“Um, well…thus far, football’s my hobby.” He took a bite of the walleye. “Wow, that’s good stuff right there.”

 

“Glad you like our state fish.”

 

“I do. Anyway, gotta work hard if I’m gonna make the team next year. But I’m also pretty good at cooking and baking, if I do say so myself. Love to cook, love to bake.”

 

Her eyebrows raised, this time with more mirth than anything. “You like to cook and bake?” she asked. “I never expected that.”

 

“I learned from my sister, mostly for long hours of babysitting.”

 

Eiluned giggled. “I didn’t see you as a babysitter,” she said with a grin.

 

Ifor was grinning as well with that funny gap-toothed grin of his. “But I did, and the kids seemed to love me. I just…well, being the youngest of my family, I always wanted to be…well, it’s hard to explain, but I always wanted to take care of people.”

 

“That’s…actually pretty cool,” she admitted.

 

“Thanks. Can’t say that in front of my football buddies, or I’ll get teased, but they know I’m a pretty good cook myself.”

 

“I won’t say a word.”

 

I might actually go on a second date for once…

 

“Thanks. But yeah, the walleye is fantastic.”

 

“You’ll love the Luci even more - you’ll want to cut into it first; the cheese can be hot - and they have a good peanut butter dessert we can share.”

 

“Oh, you know I’m in for that.”

 

The dinner and drinks had come quickly, and both of them tucked in (Eiluned immediately starting with her cocktail and Ifor waiting a minute for the Lucy to cool after he cut into it), and she knew from his wide eyes that he had found a new favorite thing.

 

“Wow! That’s…incredible! And you say this is a Minneapolis thing?”

 

“Yep.” She had finished her cocktail quickly before eating the French dip with patience; might as well wait a bit before driving home. It was still just as good slow as fast.

 

“Wow. I’m gonna have to make this a regular place.”

 

“Maybe we could both come here again?” she ventured.

 

“Really?” His eyes were wide; she could tell that he was nervous. “You mean it? I just…I don’t want to move too fast for you, you know?”

 

“Of course. I’ve been dating. You’ve been by far the best one. Don’t put yourself down, Ifor.”

 

“I…thank you, Eiluned.”

 

Soon enough, the dinner was finished (she was shocked at how much food Ifor could put away; she was pretty sure that she was almost at her limit by how tired she felt.) and Farzana was back.

 

“Any chance for dessert?” she asked.

 

“You know, I’ll have the Peanut Butter Mallow Cup,” the football player said.

 

“I’m done for the night,” Eiluned said with a giggle.

 

“Of course.” Farzana’s smile grew, and Eiluned was wondering why. “I’ll get your check.”

 

“Is it all right if I pay?” Ifor asked.

 

Eiluned shook her head, feeling a bit dizzy. “Nah, we’ll split it.”

 

“Fine by me.”

 

“All right, I’ll get you your dessert and your checks.” Farzana walked off, a bounce in her step.

 

They made small talk about where the next date was going to be (they had decided on a less expensive place like Starbucks, but she had barely paid any attention to the conversation; probably the liquor kicking in), and soon enough, the dessert and the checks were there. Ifor dug into his dessert, both of them paying the bill (and a very expensive tip for Farzana), before they left, the dizziness in her head increasing with each second.

 

Ifor caught her as she stumbled out of the door, her eyes tinged with darkness.

 

“Eiluned, are you all right?” he asked, his eyes wide with genuine concern.

 

She barely had time to shake her head before everything went black.

 

---

(I realize it's late, but I wanted to do things right this chapter. Yes, Hell's Kitchen Minneapolis is a real restaurant in Minny (I don't live there, so I had to look up something where college kids could go to.), and yes, I looked up their menu (which really made me hungry).

Anyway, what's going to happen with the two? You'll find ooouuut...next time!

[Baby Jemma]

Well, it's time for the third chapter of Salutatorians. As a CONTENT WARNING, there is police brutality in this chapter.

...Well, hope y'all enjoy~

Chapter Three: Police Brutality.

 

-

 

Ifor was panicking inwardly.

 

Eiluned had collapsed, seemingly sleeping, and it was clearly obvious that someone had spiked her drink. He didn’t know where she lived, didn’t know if she had a roommate or anyone to call, didn’t even know if she was going to be all right.

 

He called 911.

 

“911, what’s your emergency?” a calm female voice asked.

 

“Hey, I was on a date at Hell’s Kitchen Minneapolis, the girl I was with collapsed, I think someone spiked her drinks, please send for an ambulance, please.” Ifor said in a rapid-fire voice, clearly panicking.

 

“You’re saying you spiked her drink?” the woman asked, her voice clear with derision. “And you’re trying to play hero?”

 

“No, I don’t know who did it, I swear to whatever god you believe in, I just know that-”

 

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Dispatch on the way. Don’t try to run.”

 

Fuck.

 

“I’m not going to run, but I’m telling you, I didn’t touch her drinks. She had two, I had two, but I don’t know what’s wrong, so someone must’ve spiked one or both of her drinks.”

 

No response.

 

Oh, fuck, they’ll think I did it, and I didn’t!

 

Ifor sat on the ground, his head in his hands, waiting for the police to show up, and when a squad car did, the police - both of them with similar military-buzzed hair, only differentiated by race; one was white, one was black - weren’t friendly.

 

“On your knees, get on the ground now!” one of them, the large white guy, shouted.

 

Both of them were pointing guns (not Tasers, actual god-forsaken guns; seriously, what the fuck?!) at him, clearly panicking themselves at his size as he slowly raised his hands behind his head and got on his knees.

 

“On the ground now, slowly!” the same male cop shouted.

 

Ifor got spreadeagled on the ground, and they put handcuffs on him. He then felt a hard kick in his stomach, and he gasped, trying to suck in air.

 

“Fuckin’ coward, you’re so much bigger, and you drug this girl’s drink because you’re not fuckin’ man enough to get with her…” the larger black cop snarled. “You’re gonna be put away for a long time, you fuckin’ creep.”

 

“Where’s the ambulance for her?” Ifor gasped, feeling a horrible pain in his stomach.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, you sick fuck?” the first cop sneered.

 

“Get. An ambulance. For her,” Ifor breathed, beginning to get angry. Why were American cops so much less friendly than Welsh officers? He gasped involuntarily after the white cop got on his neck to pin him down.

 

“You get up, I shoot you,” the second cop said, pointing his gun at him, before radioing in, “We’ve got the suspect in custody, but we’ll need backup A.S.A.P; he’s bigger than both of us, probable date rapist, female victim, need an ambulance on the scene, over.”

 

“10-4,” the female dispatcher said.

 

“Ambulance. For her,” Ifor gasped, he was already struggling to breathe with the kick to the stomach; the neck kneeling was too much. “Can’t…breathe…”

 

“Hey, hey!” Ifor turned his head as much as he could, seeing a crowd of people with cellphones on, watching in horror.

 

“Holy fuck, he’s killing him like Floyd!”

 

“Jesus Christ…”

 

“Fucking pigs!”

 

“All of you need to back the fuck off!” the black officer shouted, as Ifor began to lose consciousness before he felt the pressure release and breathed heavily.

 

“You’re lucky there’s a crowd. Don’t expect to be as lucky next time I see you,” the white officer whispered in his ear, as Ifor heard the chatter of many bystanders, some of them hurling verbal abuse at the officers, but one voice was heard in particular.

 

“Hey, I know this cat, it’s Ifor! The fuck you arrestin’ him for? He wouldn’t hurt an ant!”

 

A teammate of his. He didn’t recognize the voice, probably a freshman. Didn’t help that his head was in a fog from the neck-kneeling.

 

“Your ‘buddy’ is a date rapist, and I will fuckin’ arrest you for obstruction if you say anythin’ more!” the black officer snarled.

 

“I don’t believe you! I’m callin’ a lawyer, this ain’t right!”

 

“Give me that phone!”

 

More sirens. An ambulance. More police.

 

“Check on her,” Ifor groaned. “Please help her.”

 

“Shut up,” the white cop snarled as he quickly read him the typical “right to remain silent” spiel, got Ifor to his feet, shoved him in the police car, and slammed the door shut, the soundproofed doors silencing the crowd.

 

“God, Eiluned…”

 

He would never admit it, especially not to teammates…but a small sob escaped his throat. He couldn’t lose her, not like his family. He couldn’t lose anyone else to violence.

 

Anyone else. He froze in horror, recalling that day, the old, ugly scar on his throat screaming his name, as he knew…he knew he shouldn’t even be alive. The fact that he had lived past six years old…it felt like borrowed time, an absolute miracle from a real-life angel, according to the doctors who saw him.

 

I should be dead right now. I should’ve never met Eiluned.

 

Those were the only thoughts he had as the police car drove him to the station, the two cops in the front seat laughing - laughing! - at something he couldn’t hear, as he huddled up on the long drive there.

 

And then, quicker than he imagined, they had arrived and opened the door…with four swift punches to the head by the white cop, as he threw him on the ground, blood from his nose spattering the pavement. The black cop then slammed his boot on his head, and Ifor saw stars, his world spinning like a top.

 

“Get up, you clumsy oaf, falling down on us like that!” the white cop chuckled.

 

“Pussy-ass bitch,” the other cop laughed.

 

They hauled him to his feet, his head swimming from the punches and stomp, as he was half-shuffled, half-dragged to the police station, seeing a bunch of white lights piercing his vision, before they got him into a dimly lit room and dropped him into a corner before leaving him there, alone with nothing but his thoughts of Eiluned.

 

-

 

Hope you enjoyed~

[Baby Jemma]

Well, it's been a while...but here's the fourth chapter of Salutatorians:

 

-

Chapter Four: An Ambulance Ride

-

 

Eiluned dreamed that same horrible dream.

 

A door shutting. A happy face. A cold smile. A voice telling her how proud they were, that she would be rewarded for such good behavior. And then…

 

Screaming, a hand to the mouth, telling her to shut up, did she want to embarrass the family, or would she be a good girl? She was definitely a good girl, she promised, please, don’t hurt me.

 

That was the dream, rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat; a broken record of memories she wanted so badly to get rid of, to escape from to-

 

To WHERE and WHAT? Where would I go? What would I do if not for this?

 

She felt an odd twinge, like she had to use the bathroom, as she woke up in…was that an ambulance?

 

“Hey, she’s awake,” a female black medic (likely Somalian; Minnesota had a huge Somali population) said before looking at her with kind brown eyes. “You’re going to be okay.”

 

“Where’s Ifor?” she groaned.

 

“The man who was going to rape you?” The woman sounded confused. “No, he is with the police.”

 

She bolted awake. “What the fuck did they arrest him for?” she asked, panicking.

 

Oh, God, he got arrested over me? No, I know him, he’d never do something like that.

 

“He said he spiked your drink…?” the paramedic said.

 

The pressure on her bladder was growing. “He’d never do that, I’ve known him from middle school, and he was the nicest guy I’ve ever met, that’s why we were going to do a second date-”

 

“But the police told me he admitted it.”

 

“What did he say, exactly?”

 

“I…don’t know.”

 

“I need to know what, exactly, he said. It’s possible things were mistranslated, and he doesn’t deserve to go to prison because he is literally too nice to hurt anyone.”

 

The paramedic looked at the person driving. “We may need to do a blood test, just saying.”

 

“Is there a bathroom nearby?” Eiluned was trying desperately to hold it in at this point.

 

“Um, we have a bedpan-”

 

“Fine, do it, I really need to go.”

 

She barely managed to get her panties off in time…but not in time for the bedpan before peeing all over the stretcher.

 

“Oh, God, oh, no…no, no, no, no, no…” She felt like she was peeing all of her drinks out of her body, like it would never stop, before she started to cry.

 

“Shh…it’s okay, it’s okay, sometimes this happens.”

 

Yeah, sometimes this happens…to fucking toddlers! I’m a twenty-year-old adult!

 

The things you read prove otherwise.

 

She was still peeing for ten - no, make it fifteen more - seconds before it finally stopped. Her makeup was obviously ruined from her tears. She felt especially dirty and upset, before feeling the cold wet wipe on her bottom genitals, and jumping back in shock, as much as the restraints would allow her.

 

“No, we have to do this,” the Somali paramedic said, a kind look in her eyes. “I truly am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

 

She sighed, allowing the paramedic to wipe her down, feeling nothing but shame. The paramedic gave her a reassuring pat on the head.

 

“It’s okay. You would not be the first to do this, and you aren’t the last.”

 

“Thanks,” Eiluned muttered, sniffling in embarrassment.

 

“It’s fine. We’re here to help.”

 

She managed to get her clothes back on - with the help of the paramedic - and the ambulance ride ended.

 

“Do I really have to stay on the wet gurney?” Eiluned asked calmly.

 

“You’re going to be in a hospital bed soon. It won’t be long, we promise.” The other paramedic, a Hispanic man with a thin mustache, had spoken, a kind look in his eyes.

 

“Okay. I’m honestly feeling fine.” It was true; she was feeling a lot better, more clear-headed than she had felt earlier.

 

“The doctor will still want a blood test,” the Somali paramedic said, holding out a pad with a pen-like object. “And we need your signature for consent to treat you.”

 

Eiluned sighed as she signed the pad with the pen.

 

“Thank you.”

 

She nodded, seeing the bright hospital lights pierce her vision as she was wheeled in, causing her to squint in pain, shielding her eyes from the lights.

 

Is Ifor okay? I know he didn’t rape me or spike my drinks; I didn’t get up to go anywhere, and he’s easily the nicest guy I know.

 

She felt physically ill, knowing that Ifor could potentially be in police custody, and given the history of Minneapolis/St. Paul police…

 

She felt the gurney stop as she lay next to a hospital bed that looked quite uncomfortable.

 

“Are you okay to transfer?” the Hispanic paramedic asked.

 

“I’m fine,” Eiluned said in a calm tone, getting on the bed easily. “Thank you again.”

 

“Doc should be with you to get your bloodwork done. Good luck.”

 

Then they were gone, leaving her all to herself…for all of a minute before a female nurse with blonde hair came in with all of the stuff needed for a blood draw.

 

Now, she didn’t have a fear of needles at all…but the needle for the blood draw right now looked intimidating.

 

“Are you sure this is going to be okay?” she asked cautiously.

 

“Sorry, but it’s necessary for us to do a blood test and a blood culture test to find out what’s wrong,” the nurse said calmly. “We’ll order a rape kit done, but it will be billed to you.”

 

“Ma’am, I’m positively certain I wasn’t raped. I won’t need it.”

 

Who are you kidding? a voice in her head said in a cruel tone. You’re really going to protect a guy you don’t know, and for what? What do you want to hide, Eil? No, scratch that; I know what you want to hide.

 

And I KNOW Ifor. He’s not the type to hurt anyone, and he couldn’t have spiked my drinks.

 

You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know how he got that damned scar on his throat. You don’t know why he went from an acclaimed school in Vandy to Minnesota. You didn’t even know that his parents were dead before he told you. You didn’t know anything about him, and for all you know, he paid a bartender to spike your drinks so he could rape you. So he’s getting exactly what he deserves.

 

Listen, I can tell when guys are less than genuine, and Ifor has been as genuinely kind as it comes, from middle school on. I haven’t told him about stuff about me, so why should he talk about himself? He doesn’t deserve to rot in prison for a crime he would never commit!

 

While she was at war with her thoughts, she felt the needle stick in her arm, letting out a soft gasp, as she saw her blood pour into the tubes, the elastic band tight on her left arm.

 

“For blood cultures,” the nurse explained, as she got four vials filled. “It’s to check for anything not supposed to be in the blood.”

 

“Okay.” Eiluned felt fairly dizzy, but otherwise fine.

 

“We’ve contacted your parents as well, and according to your phone messages, your car’s been impounded.”

 

“What did they say?” Eiluned felt a weight drop in her stomach as she heard about her car; she barely had enough money to afford that car alone.

 

“They said that they hoped you would be fine for the weekday class tomorrow. Personally, I don’t know why they were so calm, but…”

 

“That’s just their way of worrying,” the college sophomore said with a laugh.

 

“‘Their way of worrying’ worries me. Do you have anyone else who knows you’re here?”

 

Eiluned’s heart sank. She was paying for the studio space next to campus, but she always wanted to be alone. She had no roommate, nobody who even realized she existed close by. Her parents were…better not to think about them.

 

“No.”

-

 

So, hope y'all enjoyed. Until next time~

[sklawlor]

this is a really good story. Your writing reminds me a bit of John Sandford. check out the Lucas Davinport series if you're not familiar with it, it's great.

 

[Baby Jemma]

Okay, it's been long enough. I'll post the reply:

@sklawlor - The author of the Prey series? I've seen the books, but I've never read any of them. Glad to know I'm making my own style and not accidentally copying off of another author.

And now for the story:

 

-

Chapter Five: Bad-Good Cop and Bad-Bad Cop

-

Ifor had just gotten a bit of fitful sleep in the dark, even with something he knew was a concussion, before the lights flipped on, piercing his vision, the two same cops who booked him walking into the room.

 

“Wake up, we’re not done with you yet, not by a longshot,” the black cop growled.

 

“Look, Ifor’s your name, right?” the white cop said in a friendlier tone than his partner.

 

Ifor rolled his eyes. Typical good cop/bad cop routine. Would’ve possibly worked if both of them weren’t bad cops.

 

“You need anything to drink?” the white cop asked. “Coffee? Soda?”

 

“Just water.”

 

“You get water when you talk,” the black cop snapped. “What did you slip into the young lady’s drink? Where were you planning on taking her to rape her?”

 

“I didn’t touch her drinks, and I’m assuming she was going back to her place, I don’t know where, and I am not a rapist.”

 

“C’mon, pal, don’t make it harder on yourself,” the white cop said in a sad tone. “We already have a witness who said you slipped something in her drink.”

 

“Then that witness is a fucking liar and full of horseshit. I didn’t slip anything in her drinks. I didn’t touch her drinks. I only touched my drinks and my food, not hers. Now if you’re done bullshitting me with your stupid ‘good cop/bad cop’ routine, I want to talk to a lawyer.”

 

“We can add obstruction of justice to attempted sexual assault and kidnapping, if you don’t fess up,” the black cop said, as if Ifor hadn’t spoken.

 

“So please, Ifor, make it easy on yourself,” the white cop said. “Just tell us the truth.”

 

“I’ve been telling you the motherfucking truth, but you won’t fucking believe me, so I want a lawyer.”

 

Ifor was starting to lose his temper with these cops. How stupid could they get? Someone, possibly a bartender, had spiked Eiluned’s drink, and they automatically thought he was responsible, just because of what a biased dispatch agent told them?

 

This was ludicrous, asinine, and nothing like what the cops in Wales - and the cops in Tennessee, for that matter - had been like.

 

Both cops sighed; it looked as if they were done playing nice. “Look, pal, we can just throw you in jail if-”

 

“You’ll do no such thing with my client.”

 

A well-dressed Asian woman in her mid-fifties, probably of Hmong descent, had entered the room, her coal-gray eyes scanning the cops contemptuously, as she placed a calm hand on Ifor’s shoulder.

 

“Don’t say another word, Ifor,” the woman said, a neutral look on her face. “I’ve heard everything from another dispatcher, and we will sort this out.”

 

“He already admitted-”

 

“That your dispatcher sent you after my client without even bothering to hear his side of the story, merely assuming that he had called to confess to a crime to - oh, what were her words - ‘play hero’ to make himself ‘look good’, which I will prove with records of the dispatch conversation? That both of you violated my client’s civil rights on numerous occasions, including kicking him in the stomach and kneeling on his neck, which could have killed him? That he has wounds on his face that are clearly from you, given that he didn’t have them when you took him into custody? My client doesn’t have to say another word, should be released, and he has every right to sue you and your department at a later date.”

 

If Ifor could’ve taken a picture of the faces of the two cops, he would’ve; they looked like they had swallowed a bushel of unskinned lemons before leaving the room.

 

“Thank you, counselor, ma’am,” he said gratefully.

 

“Please, call me Ms. Vue. Tshaus Vue.” Vue still had that neutral face, but her eyes were kind.

 

“Is Eiluned okay?” he asked.

 

“I’m not sure. I know she went to Abbott Northwestern, but beyond that, I don’t know. I’ve let them know about the circumstances.”

 

“Okay. Thank you again, Ms. Vue. Where do I pay you?”

 

“Don’t worry; I know Coach Sparks, and he’s fronting the bill. He speaks quite highly of you as a person. And…I will admit that I’m a Golden Gophers fan who wants to see them do well.” The barest hint of a smile.

 

Another white male cop came into the room, quickly undoing the handcuffs and issuing a quick apology to Ifor before saying that he was free to go.

 

“Good. I need my iPhone and wallet.”

 

Soon enough, he had both items in his possession. He was ready to head back to his place (an actual house; his parents had left his sister and him a huge inheritance) via taxi, get his car (a GMC Yukon), and hopefully visit Eiluned in the hospital. He walked out of the police station, feeling both exhausted and yet…not, as he waited for a taxi.

 

He didn’t have to wait long for a taxi (even though the interior was a little cramped for him), getting in, going to his place.

 

What is Eiluned hiding?

 

Ifor knew Eiluned was lying when she said that she didn’t read for a hobby. He could sniff out lies pretty well, but hadn’t pressed her further. He knew she could tell him on her own time. If it was something like, say, porn, or whatever, it wasn’t anything that would surprise him; he had seen all types at both Vanderbilt and Minnesota, including a gay senior offensive lineman he had befriended on Vandy’s team.

 

He paid the taxi driver when he got to his place, getting out of the small taxi, stretching his limbs in the cold night before going in his much larger SUV, driving over to the hospital, eyes wide and awake on the road. When he looked into the mirror, he noted that his face looked like shit with bruises and a nose and lips with dried blood matted on them. He realized that his nose was clearly broken.

 

He got parking at the hospital and called Eiluned’s phone number, hoping she’d pick up. One ring. Two rings.

 

“Who is this?” Eiluned’s voice, thank God.

 

“Helo, Eiluned, Ifor ydy o.”

 

“Ifor? Oh, God, I heard you were-”

 

“In police custody? They let me go. Gave me a hell of a beating beforehand.”

 

“I knew it. No way you would even hurt a - wait, they beat you?! Isn’t that police brutality?! Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

 

“It’s nothing that can’t heal. Do you have a ride home? Your folks?”

 

“...No. I’m ready to go myself; I can’t afford to miss class. You feel like taking me to my place, Ifor? My car got impounded. You’re welcome to sleep there; there’s not a lot of room, but I can make do.”

 

“Of course, Eiluned. I could drop you off, and-”

 

“I’d rather someone be there. Might as well be you.”

 

Ifor’s heart began to beat faster. “O-of c-c-course, of course,” he stammered. “If you’ve got a space on the floor, I could probably sleep there; I’m used to sleeping in the video room this time of year, so I could sleep damn near anywhere.”

 

“Works for me. I just want to get out of the hospital.”

 

“Understood. I’m in the grey Yukon, Tennessee license plate, CBN1D1F.”

 

“You brought your license plate from Tennessee?” A mirthful statement rather than a question.

 

“Why not? It stands for ‘Can Be Number One Division One Football’.”

 

“OH, I see it now.”

 

“Fair enough. I’m outside the hospital. See you soon.”

 

“See you soon, Ifor.”

 

Ifor hung up the call, his heart all but beating out of his chest.

 

Is this what love feels like? If so, I never want to let it go.

 

He had no idea how this feeling would change his life.

-

 

 

Here's the translation for the Welsh sentence:

 

"Helo, Eiluned, Ifor ydy o." = "Hello, Eiluned, it's Ifor."

 

Hope y'all enjoyed. Until next time~

[Baby Jemma]

Well, it's been a while (I wanted to update this story as the same time as several others, but irl and motivation has eluded me.), but here's the sixth chapter:

 

-

 

Chapter Six: Accidents Happen.

 

-

 

Eiluned had signed more paperwork and medical stuff than she had ever wanted to ever sign, but she was finally out of the hospital, and she noticed the GM Yukon almost immediately, the Tennessee license plate standing out.

 

She knocked on the car door, seeing if Ifor was there. He was.

 

“Hello,” he said calmly. He looked awful, his face puffy with future bruises and his broken nose with dried blood under it, cuts on his lips.

 

“Ifor…they hurt you, didn’t they?” she said, a guilty note in her tone. It was because of her that he got hurt, and-

 

“It’s okay. I’ve had worse,” he said, his blue eyes still twinkling with kindness.

 

“Like your neck.” Eiluned held a hand to her mouth; the words had come out without her thinking.

 

A flicker of something unrecognizable crossed his eyes, but he said, “Yeah, like that. You gonna get in the car?”

 

She got in the Yukon, feeling a twinge in her bladder. She ignored it, getting into the front seat.

 

“So, I live near the university,” she explained, as she buckled her seatbelt. “Shouldn’t be too far from here.”

 

“Understood.”

 

The drive was taken in silence…but less than ten minutes in, the urge for Eiluned to pee had grown.

 

“Um, Ifor, could we stop and find a restroom?” she asked, trying to clench her muscles, trying not to…

 

“Should be a gas station in the next minute,” Ifor said, his eyes concerned. “Are you okay?”

 

“I jus-” She froze as the dam completely flooded. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she cried, as her underwear, her dress, her coat, even Ifor’s seat, was drenched in piss. Tears were in her eyes, as she sobbed, but Ifor gave her a gentle calming glance as the car had pulled into a gas station…far too late.

 

“It’s okay, Eil,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “Accidents happen.”

 

“But your car-”

 

“It’s just a car. I care far more about you.”

 

She felt a warm, fuzzy feeling inside of her when he said that, but the embarrassment was still there.

 

God, I’m pissing myself like a toddler, or worse. It’s like the stories I read online…

 

“Eil?” She turned to face Ifor, who looked confused. “You said something about reading stories?”

 

She nearly swore when she realized she had said at least the last part aloud. “I just…I guess I like to read a bit…but it’s boring shit, nothing you’d be interested in.”

 

“Okay, Eil. You know, even if you read something like, say, pornography, it wouldn’t bother me. I was roommates with a gay lineman at Vandy; I’ve seen it all.”

 

No, you haven’t. Not…this…

 

“Like I said, it’s boring shit for school. Sorry, I’m just…flustered…because…”

 

“It’s okay, Eil. I think I have towels in the backseat, and a snow shovel, it’s crazy how much Minnesota snows…”

 

Eiluned reached into the back, and there were a few towels. She got up to clean the seat, and then sat on them with her clothes still on; it didn’t make sense to change now, they could be washed later, and she figured in case of another accident, it would be best not to get more piss on the seat.

 

They took the route to the University of Minnesota’s apartment dorms, and as sure as the sun rose in the east, she felt a warmth on her bottom, as the towels absorbed the third accident that night. More tears, more apologizing through her sobbing voice, but Ifor’s gentle gaze soothed her.

 

“It’s okay, Eil. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I’m not angry or upset at you,” he whispered calmly.

 

That gentle, caring gaze never leaving her, with even his scar on his throat seeming to glow, not with ugliness, but with strength, the strength she wished she had.

 

So different from her sperm donor of a father, so different than her actual parents. Her actual parents would’ve been upset at her, and her father…best not to think about what he would do.

 

The ride had ended, and they were back at her studio dorm at the university with the snow flurries falling down peacefully. Still, she felt exhausted and slumped in the seat, breathing softly.

 

“Do you need me to carry you, Tywysoges?” Ifor said in a joking manner, as he exited the Yukon and opened her door.

 

Princess. That sounds nice, actually.

 

“Would you?” Eiluned said before she could shut her mouth.

 

The eyes of both widened in simultaneous, similar shock, but for different reasons. “Are you…sure?” he asked cautiously.

 

“I mean…I guess I wouldn’t mind,” she said with a wink, a soft smile playing around her mouth.

 

Ifor smiled back at her and gently picked her up as one would a baby, clothes, tote bag, towels and all. Those…feelings had come back in force, her eagerness to actually find someone who would pick her up like that, to make the dreams she had long suppressed a reality (even if the grown woman who wanted nothing more or less than the aerospace degree was annoyed), and she squirmed in his grip happily.

 

“Hey, you gotta calm down, Tywysoges; I don’t want you to fall,” Ifor said, his tone more playful than anything.

 

Tywysoges. Princess. It fit her so much, but she settled in, a giddy feeling in her, as she pointed out where she lived, getting out of his arms reluctantly to open the door herself.

 

It was a small studio with little to speak of when it came to personal items; most of what she had was carried in her tote bag. A bedroom, a tiny kitchen, a few couches for a living room, a bathroom. It was all she really could afford with her family being the way they were. And now she needed to pick up her car. At least she was close to campus.

 

Ifor looked impressed, though. “Hey, it looks spacious enough, and there’s a couch!” he said excitedly.

 

Eiluned nodded, ignoring Ifor yammering on about the room while stifling a yawn, as she brought her tote bag to her room. She got out her smartphone (she had a choice between a computer and a smartphone; she was too poor to have both), and flopped on her spartan bed, leaving a quick text to her folks before the…feelings returned.

 

Wouldn’t hurt to check out a story before I sleep…especially after today.

 

Her fingers flitted across the letters until she went to the specific Daddy Dom/Little Girl site where she preferred to read the stories on her liked list. There were hundreds of them, and she was adding new ones every time she went on, it seemed; her cravings for such things increasing the more she repressed because…no, best not to think of it.

But hot damn, was she tired. She didn’t know if it was the drinks or the stress, but her phone slipped out of her grasp to the floor, and her eyes slammed shut, sending her straight to dreamland.

 

-

 

Well, hope y'all enjoyed~

[Baby Jemma]

Well, here's the next chapter of Salutatorians (as a WARNING: blood, murder-suicide, and emotional parental abuse are prevalent in this chapter; do NOT read if you know you will be affected by it.):

 

-

 

Chapter Seven: A Chat with the Big Sister

 

-

 

Ifor had fallen asleep on the couch…only to wake up in a horrific nightmare.

 

Knife. Fire. Parents lying dead, glazed eyes still showing shock in their final moments. Blood everywhere. He had gotten out of the burning house just in time, running away from his attacker…but the older attacker caught him first outside. Unrecognizable eyes, no, he knew his attacker, and his attacker knew him, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

 

The knife went slowly across his throat, only a little bit before his scream turned into a gurgle. Then the attacker’s eyes…they recognized him. They saw. They knew. Truly remorseful tears streaming from the attacker’s eyes and hysterical apologies echoing from his mouth, as a new person grabbed Ifor, trying to stem the blood flow from the wound in his throat, rivers of crimson staining the street.

 

Attacker plunged the knife into his own throat, still trying to apologize. Blood all over the street, a deluge of red poured onto the sidewalk, the attacker still trying to desperately apologize as he breathed his last, the life leaving his horrified eyes.

 

Ifor woke up in a panic, his hand instinctively going to the scar on his throat, as if he was still bleeding out. His eyes darted across the room, trying to figure out where he was.

 

Then he remembered. Eiluned. He had taken her to her home. A small place, barely enough for her. He felt bad; she was obviously not as well off as he was.

 

Might as well see how she is.

 

He noticed the pungent scent of urine as he walked into her room, probably just the remnants of her clothes, which she hadn’t changed out of.

 

It’s all right, she can probably wash the bed…right?

 

Then he heard his phone ringing from inside his pocket, the Celtic metal song Lords of Iron playing, as he quickly answered it, going out of Eiluned’s room to do so.

 

“Hello?” he asked.

 

“Helo, Ifor,” a familiar female voice said teasingly. “How was your date with your middle school crush?”

 

He groaned. Ffion, his older sister - eighteen years older - had given him a call.

 

“Date was…good, I guess?” he said.

 

“Ifor, I’m not blind or deaf. What’s wrong, little brother?”

 

Ifor was torn. He wasn’t going to tell the whole story about Eiluned’s nighttime misadventures because he respected her privacy in such matters…but he couldn’t exactly lie to his sister, who had taken a mothering role after…

 

No. You’re okay. You’re fine. Just…breathe.

 

He breathed in and out. “The girl is amazing. I think…I think she’s the nicest, smartest girl I’ve ever met, from Wales like us…but some…asshole spiked her drink. I got blamed. Police were a little…troublesome. But it’s being solved, don’t worry.”

 

“Ifor, did the police assault you? Do I need to press charges? Is she okay?”

 

Dammit, how is she so good at sniffing these things out?

 

“Yes, they roughed me up a bit. No, there’s no need to press charges. I…think she’s going to be okay?”

 

“Ifor, if you need me and Jaz to come over-”

 

“No, really, Sis, it’s fine.” He was still hesitant about this boyfriend, boyfriend number three for his sister. To his credit, he was nicer than 1 and 2 (whose names he refused to use out of spite), and Ffion was as clever as a fox and knew when boys weren’t being genuine, but still…

 

“Ifor, it’s okay to ask for help. You’ve been going to therapy, right? Taking your anxiety medicine?”

 

“Yes, Sis,” he said with a sigh. Not that therapy or anxiety meds stopped the nightmares. Not that anxiety meds or therapy could handle the crippling fear whenever someone mentioned the wound on his throat or…the person who did it. Not that therapy or anxiety meds could deal with all of the fucked-up things he had seen back in Wales.

 

“Ifor, are you sure you’re-”

 

“I’m fine, Sis,” he said bluntly. “Honestly, I’m more concerned about Eil; I don’t know what asshole spiked her drink, but if I ever find out who did it…”

 

“Don’t get yourself into trouble, Ifor.” The stern voice of his sister came through the phone. “Where are you now?”

 

“At her apartment. Sis, it’s so small…”

 

“Ifor, I know you want to help her, but make sure not to overstep boundaries.”

 

“When have I ever done that?”

 

“Never. But I always worry.”

 

“Sis, I’m an adult. I’ll be fine. I learned from you, after all.”

 

“I know. I know it’s late, but I wanted to ask you how everything had gone.”

 

“Fair enough. Caru ti, chwaer,” he said in a gentle tone.

 

“Caru ti hefyd, fraud bach,” Ffion said with a friendly tilt in her tone.

 

Ifor hung up his phone…only to hear another ringtone. Eiluned’s phone. He walked in her room again, the urine smelling much stronger than before. He had no wish to pry, especially if it was her parents, and they heard a strange guy…but maybe he could wake her up, and-

 

The phone on the floor stopped ringing; she had obviously put it on sleep. Then the voice-message came on, that of an older woman, and he froze.

 

“Dammit, Eiluned, how careless could you be?! We still owed money on the Honda, you know! You’re not getting it back, just to let you know, and you had better be getting straight A’s tomorrow and the next month, or we’ll be taking more than just your car!”

 

The message ended, and a horrible feeling entered the pit of his stomach. No wonder why she said she had no hobbies. With parents - he assumed it was her mom - like that, who needed enemies? How could any hobby of hers be good enough for a witch like that?

 

Ifor picked up the phone, ready to set it on the small nightstand, when the website screen caught his eyes and attention…and he suddenly understood. He understood her behavior, her reluctance to share what her hobbies were or what she read, maybe even the accidents (although he was definitely sure that that’s all they were: accidents).

 

Daddy Dom, Little Girl? Oh, Eil, why didn’t you just tell me? This…this is nothing. Harmless.

 

The smell of urine grew stronger, and Ifor was now almost ninety-nine percent sure it wasn’t just the clothes she wore. He felt guilty. What if her drink had been spiked with something really bad? What if she was having a bad reaction to it? What if it was both?

 

Can’t solve it tonight, Ifor. You can’t solve anything, remember?

 

He decided not to wake her up; he was not going to encroach on boundaries unless she asked, and he figured she’d be embarrassed enough in the morning.

 

What if she doesn’t wake up in time for class, though?

 

Ifor was stuck on that thought, and he decided on his actions.

 

If not, I can help. If she’s struggling, I can help. And I’ll be there when - if - she’s ready to reveal what she’s into. That’s what I’m here for, right? To help people?

 

He went back on the couch, unable to sleep with his racing thoughts, waiting for the winter night to turn to a colder morning.

 

-

The Welsh reads as follows:

Caru ti, chwaer. = Love you, Sister.

Caru ti hefyd, fraud bach. = Love you too, Little Brother.

 

 

If you're still here, hope y'all enjoyed~