The End


The end.

It’s just two words.

But it’s so hard to know when to end the story sometimes. The people you write about are so real. You never want to subject them to a “the end.” But every story must stop. At least on the printed page.

I think the end comes when you’ve got nothing left to say. When the story goal is achieved, when the message has been told, when to continue would mean to drag it out and stretch it like a rubber band ’till it snaps, that’s when the end should come.

Two words. And they’re so painful.

But if the book is done well, while the end may seem painful, it will feel complete.

And that’s how it is with the Reset.

32 days.

41 chapters. 1 epilogue.

48,154 words.

And a bunch of feels.

I don’t know what it is about my guy characters, but people seem to love them. January, Cael, Kody, Elyya… I love my boys so much. ❤

So, while the Reset is waiting to be edited, I will probably rewrite the Desensitized trilogy and it will be better. Thanks to all the help I get from my betas and Mirriam, I think this second go around will be better. The Reset flowed. Desensitized did not. But it will this time.

And before I go, I’ll leave you with a few snippets. ^_^

“What?” I squeak. “What do you want?”

“I want compensation for the blood I lost because of you,” the tattooed man says simply. He rotates his neck on his shoulders and I hear a series of pops.

I stare at the floor and bite my lip. If he takes the blood he lost, I’ll need to perform another job before the end of the month. Three dead in thirty days because of me. I lean my head back against the wall.

“How much?” I whisper.

“Half a month’s supply.”

I look up at the man sharply. “You didn’t lose that much.”

“I’m accounting for the interest as well.”

One of my hands makeup. A thousand thoughts run through my head, none of them pleasant.

I hate to be in debt, but blood and lives should not be a means of paying a price.

rubs my face and I’m sure it smears the carefully placed

“I want it by the end of the month,” the man says.

“What’s your name?” I want to know.

“Bane,” he answers. “Bane Cormac.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Look,” he says, “I don’t hate you. You’re messed up, and you need help. You said you wanted a friend, and it looks like I’m the only available one at the moment, so I’m sticking around for a bit.”

I stop and turn around to stare at Jan.

“Besides,” he continues, “all my nice clothes are here. You’re not going to wear the suits and top hats, so I might as well make use of ‘em.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“If I chose anything more than bread and cheese,” January says, “I’d have to cook. And that ain’t happening. Hope you don’t mind.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Do you really mean everything you say about yourself?” I ask. “Or do you say it to cover up a lack of self-confidence?”

Jan’s smile vanishes and his gaze drops to the floor.

“Ah, they say fake it till you make it. I’ve been faking it since I was a kid and I say things like that, but I don’t believe it. Sometimes I’m able to lie to myself, but at the end of the day, I’m still the same broken kid.”

I pull January into a hug again.

“I changed my name a few times,” he tells me.

“Really?” I figure it’s best to let him talk. “What to?”

“Jamie, Jake, Jack, Jayce, Jackson, Jaden, Jacob.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I can’t save you. Only you can save yourself. I can be here for you, but you have to make the decision. You have to want to be saved and until then, no one can do much to help you.”

I nod and, as I think about it, it makes so much sense.

“So basically, we limit the help we receive.”

January pats my cheek twice. “That about sums it up, darling. Now I want to practice my reading. You want to choose the book?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everyone within earshot turns to look at us.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“Smoke!” he wheezes. “It’s killing me! And you!” He points a finger in the smoker’s direction.Top of Form

I cover my mouth to hide a smile as Jan narrows his eyes at the man whose face is a deep cherry red. The man drops the cigarette butt on the ground and crushes it with his heel. January straightens and nods once. He tugs on his coat and grabs my arm. We hurry down the street with our ice cream.

I giggle and look up at the young man who winks at me.

“Saving lives one hack at a time,” he says.

“I doubt if he’ll stop on your account,” I tell him. “Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Well, I opened his eyes to the danger, so there.” He sticks his tongue out at me. I smile and lick my ice cream as it begins to drip over the side of the cone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

January had fallen over and was just lying on the ground like the world had ended.

I nudge him with my foot.

“Get up.”

“No,” he replies.

I have the sudden urge to kick him. “Get up,” I repeat.

“Shan’t.”

“Why not? Your clothes are getting ruined. Now stand up before someone tramples you.”

“Who’s going to trample me?” he moans as he stretches his hands into the air before letting drop to the pavement. “We’re in an ally way.”

I look around. “Oh. So we are. But that’s worse, see? Now your clothes are completely ruined. Look at all the rubbish strewn on the ground.”

January raises an eyebrow only a little so it’s barely noticeable. But then his face falls and he just stares up at the grey sky and sighs.

“Just let me die here,” he whispers. I crouch down beside him.

“What are you talking about?” I poke his side. He curls up in a large ball, hugging his side.

“Don’t touch me,” he cries. “Just leave me alone.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Shall I chase those hooligans and make them apologize?”

“No,” he breathes, his eyes closed tight. “Just- Alias-” January looks up at me and I see something close to pain in his eyes. “My ice cream – it’s dead. So leave me to die with it. Please. Bury me by my park bench, if they’ll let you.”

I slap his face and laugh. “January- January Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is, get up and come on. I can’t believe you! You’re such a drama queen.”

He hops to his feet, grabs my shoulders, and shoves me back against the wall of a building.

“Never – never – assume you know the pain of a man who has lost his ice cream,” he hisses. “And don’t call me a drama queen. If anything, I’d be a drama king.”

God bless!

Rana

P.S.

I got my upper braces off today!!! 😀

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