The Definition of 'Duality'

—n, the state or quality of being two or in two parts; dichotomy

All things Twilight owned belong to Stephanie Meyer.

The cold Seattle morning was dark and drenched in fog. This was the kind of weather that made you want to sit near a fire with a giant bowl of tomato soup.

Unfortunately, I was a grown man with a job and responsibilities.

My head was pounding loudly and as I opened my eyes; the small amount of light that was trying to peek through the curtains almost blinded me. It was harsh and extremely bright.

I looked at the clock on my nightstand, which read seven, and I rolled out of bed.

"Time to start the day," I said to myself, cracking my neck. I was particularly sore this morning, although, I didn't know why.

I was in the shower and dressed within a half hour, making sure to speed up the process since I was late. And then, I was out of the door and into the Volvo with a cup of coffee. I raced through the early morning Seattle traffic. I had lived in this city my entire life so I knew my way around pretty well.

It took me no time at all to arrive at the building downtown where I worked, and I eventually found a spot in the lot across the street. Grabbing my floor plans and architectural designs from the back, I stumbled inside, trying to make sure that I didn't drop anything.

"Hi, Edward," a cute receptionist said as she opened the door for me.

"Oh, hi." I awkwardly shuffled through the lobby.

"You need some help?"

"No, I've got it." I stuck my head around the four tubes that held my perfectly rolled building plans. I was pathetically trying to make it look like I wasn't having a difficult time, but with my coffee in one hand and work in the other, it was a wonder that I hadn't spilled everything all over the lobby floor.

"Have a nice day." She waved as I got in the elevator. "Oh, and Miss Denali is waiting for your call."

"Thank you." I went up to the third floor.

The office was alive this morning, but then again, that's how it was every morning. I loved it that way; busy and chaotic in an organized way. Does that make any sense? I worked better in this kind of environment. I worked at Seattle Real Estate Development. We were an enormous company made up of architects, developers, planners, and interior designers. We even had our own construction crews.

I went to school and graduated with an architectural degree that I was very proud of. I'd better be. The University of Virginia had the best professional program out there, and it was extremely hard to get in, let alone graduate. I had to leave my comfy home in Seattle to complete my six years, but it was well worth it. I could have snatched up any job in the country. Fortunately, the one I wanted welcomed me with open arms.

I pushed open the door of my large, well deserved corner office and put my stuff down on the couch.

"Wow, looks like you have a lot to get done today," a soft, feminine voice said from behind my desk. Her legs were crossed, showing off a flash of skin underneath a tight skirt.

"I thought you were coming back on Friday." An unconscious smile spread across my lips as I gave her a chaste kiss on the lips.

"We finished a week early. We jumped on the first plane out."

"And how is the new mall out there in the sticks?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's horrible. I don't know why anyone would want to build a mall in the boonies of Idaho, but it's supposed to be very popular." She got up from my seat so that I could sit down.

"Well, I'm glad you're back."

"You want to do lunch?"

"Sure, if I have time. We'll see," I assured her.

"Alright, well, I'll be in my office if you need anything," she purred and swayed her hips out of my office.

Kate Denali was my girlfriend of two years. We had met first at school, and then when the job positions opened up, we jumped at moving back to Seattle together. She was from around here as well, and it was kind of strange that we had lived our whole lives within blocks of each other, but had only spent the last two years in a relationship.

She was the perfect girl for me—safe, stable, hardworking, beautiful, and incredibly smart. What wasn't to love? It had taken me a couple months, but I had finally gotten up the courage to ask her to move in with me. I planned on doing that soon when things calmed down with work. We were both too busy to think about a move right now.

I finally made it. I had a successful job, a steady relationship; money in the bank, good friends, and a normal family life. I had taken the American dream and morphed it into a life that was more than acceptable.

I sighed in contentment, put on my black-rimmed glasses, and turned on my computer to start the day.

I was one of the best when it came to planning large-scale renovations. I had a certain eye that allowed me to see the final product. I was a very visual person and could basically create a feasible plan all from what I saw in my head. My designs were incredibly popular and positioned me high on the professional ladder within a few years of me graduating college.

I decided to work through lunch since I had a lot to catch up on. I, unthinkingly, didn't bother to check the time and kept my head bent over my large drawing desk all morning, so by the time I looked up, it was way past noon.

I asked my secretary to bring me a couple Advils, because my head was still hurting. I couldn't remember anything, but James and I must have had a wild night.

Speak of the devil; James pushed the door open and plopped down in the chair in front of my desk.

"Yo, Masen." He put his feet on the table.

"I've told you about disrupting me while I'm busy." I continued to draw an outline of the building I was designing.

"You want to get some lunch?"

"Shit," I cursed myself for blowing Kate off. I called her quickly, but she was in a meeting. I was going to get hell for that later.

"So, does that mean we can go?" He sucked on his teeth.

"No, I have to finish this proposal before the day's over."

"You are so lame." He snatched the newspaper from my desk and started to thumb through it.

James was one of my oldest friends, and he always had a good time watching football or just sitting and drinking. He and I were the best of friends because we were basically the same. We both came from affluent families, but worked hard for what we had and always liked to have a good time. In college, we had been friendly competition for each other and pushed ourselves hard to get the word done. It paid off for both of us.

"Actually, since I have you here, do you mind telling me what we did last night?" I asked him without lifting my head from my project.

"Uh, nothing. I had to work, remember? I told you that."

"Really?" My pencil stilled for a second. "I could have sworn we went to a bar or something. I have a hangover that hurts like a bitch."

"Well, it wasn't from me. I was good for a change," he snickered.

The fact that I had no memory from last night slightly scared me. What did I do? Who was I with? I didn't have any bruises or scratches on my body, so I didn't think I had gotten into anything serious.

"Hey, have you seen this?" James sat up in his seat. "That maniac struck again last night."

"What maniac?"

"This guy. He's been stealing cars and robbing people for months. They think he beat up this couple last night." He threw the paper in front of me.

The story was about a college couple found beaten and bruised in a park outside of the city this morning. There were strangle marks on their necks, cuts all over their bodies, and the girl's purse was stolen. The police were trying to keep it quiet, because they didn't have any leads right now. The couple didn't get a good look at the guy, since it was kind of dark, and they ran off as soon as they got the chance.

"This guy is just sick." James continued to read the article. "Last week, he broke into a liquor store and burned the whole place up. No casualties besides a dog that was in the back."

"Why are you so fixated on this story? Seattle always has some crime spree going on."

"Yeah, but he's so weird. They think he has a mental issue."

"Don't we all?" I asked rhetorically.

James left my office, and I went back to working freely as the hours passed on.

This was how my days normally went; I liked the fact that I had a routine. I was planner. I had to have a schedule to make my life work and run correctly. I was a sticker for following orders and never wanted to step out of bounds. It just made life so much easier. There's nothing wrong with living by rules, right?

Everyone left me alone throughout the day. Kate was called to a construction site, and James left early complaining of a stomachache. He was one of those guys who you never saw working, but when he did, he was brilliant.

Around eight, the people in the offices around me started to disappear. I usually worked late, so this was nothing new.

"Mr. Masen," my assistant beeped my phone, "is there anything you need before I leave?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright, have a good night."

I battled the sleepiness that was starting to creep up and continued to make plans for a massive school gym that was going on the campus of a local private school. It was one of my biggest solo projects yet, so I wanted to do a good job. A promotion was on the horizon, and I wasn't going to let it pass me by.

It was ten that night when I heard footsteps in the hall. The night maids must've been early.

"I'll be out in a second," I called loudly as I started to roll up my papers.

"Edward Masen?" a deep voice came from the door.

"Yes?" I lifted my gaze.

A man with dark eyes and short brown hair started to walk into my office. He had a mustache and was about my age, although, he could have been years older. There were stress lines all over his face. A man who looked almost identical followed him into my office.

"Can I help you?" I asked suspiciously.

"Are you Edward Masen?"

"I already answered that. Who are you?"

"I'm detective Masterson. This is my partner, detective Avi." He pointed behind him.

"Oh," I shifted my feet awkwardly, "is something wrong?"

"That depends. Where were you last night from the hours of eight until two this morning?" He walked around my office, examining everything.

"At home, "I answered immediately. It was more like I assumed that I was at home, because to be honest, I still had no clue what I'd done last night.

"Can anybody verify that?" Detective Avi asked.

"No, I live alone. Can I ask what this is all about?" Rorschach

Without answering me, the officer crossed the desk quickly and grabbed my wrist, swinging it behind my body.

"You're under arrest for the assault and battery of Abby Mitchell and Ryan Basford. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

"What the hell?" He pulled my other arm behind me roughly and snapped it in handcuffs, pushing me down over my desk.

"Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" The man lifted my arms painfully so that my shoulders strained.

"I didn't do anything," I protested as they picked me from the desk and started walking towards the door.

"We've been looking for you for a very long time."

I was so confused as to what was going on that I didn't have any way of arguing. This was either some kind of sick joke or a big misunderstanding.

"Can I even get a clue as to what the fuck is going on?" I spat when we were in the elevator.

Avi scolded me like I was his child. "Watch your language. We told you."

"I didn't hurt anyone."

"It's time to just give up. We've finally caught you." I was roughly pushed out of the elevator and into the lobby.

Thankfully, no one was around—except a couple of receptionists and security guards—to see my humiliating walk of shame to the police cruiser that was waiting out front. My head was ducked, and then I was shoved into the back of the car where my lanky 6'2 frame barley fit.

Now I was pissed.

"Hey, tell me what the fuck is going on," I shouted between the grate that separated the front and back of the vehicle.

"We were advised not to speak with you until we get back to the station," Masterson said through tight lips. He was glaring at me in the rearview mirror like we had been enemies for years.

"If I'm being arrested, then I have the right to know what's going on."

"Look," Avi turned around, "you beat up two people and have been causing trouble in this city for months. Just sit back and shut the fuck up."

What the hell?

I watched the buildings pass me by in the back seat of the police car as we sped away. My mind was going just as fast, and I tried to understand what was happening to me. This started off as a regular day. I was supposed to be home right now, gorging myself on fatty Chinese food—just another normal Monday.

Instead, I was being accused of hurting two people. I think I'd heard that right. Who were Abby Mitchell and Ryan Basford? I knew one thing for certain: I had never met or touched either one of them.

The drive to the police department was completely silent. My breathing was becoming strained as my heartbeat increased. I would be more at ease if I had any idea what was going on. I could defend myself if I had information on what the fuck was going on.

"Welcome home." Avi lifted me out of the car crudely, and my head hit the top. My glasses were knocked off of my face, and I heard a crunch as he stepped over them.

Just like in every cop show on TV, I was led through the department like a common criminal and thrown into an interrogation room. It was one of those drab, windowless places with a dirty floor, flicking overhead lights, and a wobbly chair that I was supposed to sit in.

I was uncuffed and just left to stew.

I stared at the two-way mirror for over an hour. I didn't say a word or make a scene, because I knew that's what they wanted. It was actually very annoying that I still wasn't given any information. My mind started to create different scenarios about what was going on. Was this really happening? I knew one thing above all else: I didn't hurt anyone. I was sticking to that story. There was no way they could deny the truth.

Finally, after at least two hours, Masterson and his partner walked into the room with a thick file. Avi was rolling a TV behind him and put it in the corner. Masterson set a large box on the floor at his feet.

Masterson sat in front of me with a wicked and twisted smile. "So, Edward, right?"

I nodded.

"What were you doing last night?" He got down to brass tacks.

I decided to keep my cool and answer honestly, "Well, it was Sunday so I usually go out with my friend, James, to a bar or something."

"Usually?"

"Uh, yeah. He was working last night."

"So what did you do?"

I opened my mouth to answer a couple of times, but no words came out.

He nodded and wrote something on his pad. I tried to see what he was scribbling, but he moved it so that I couldn't.

"I'm really confused here," I admitted. "You come to my office and arrest me for battery, but you haven't given me any sort of motive or any information on who these people are."

Masterson set the box on the table and started to pull out things in plastic bags. I noticed them as some items from my apartment.

"Are those my shoes?" I stood up, but Avi pushed me back in my seat.

"Yes, we got a warrant to search your place and we found a lot of nice things." He held up some boots that I never wore. "Do you know what these are?"

"My shoes."

"Right, but it's what was under them that was the great thing." He banged the boot on the table, still in its evidence bag, and I could see flecks of dirt fall from the treads on the shoe.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"That's dirt from the crime scene I spent hours at this morning. It matches perfectly to the shoe prints were found there as well." He slid a newspaper in front of me. It was the same paper that James was reading earlier in the day.

I scanned the page with my eyes and still didn't understand until I saw the two names— Abby Mitchell and Ryan Basford.

"They were beaten in a park late last night by you, Edward, and thankfully, got to the hospital before…" Masterson spoke lowly.

"No, that can't be possible. I would never do anything like that." I argued.

"You robbed them. You've been the one terrorizing this city over these past couple of months. Tell me the truth." He slammed his fist on the table. "We have your fingerprints and witnesses. Plus, her purse was in your house. How can you deny it now?"

"I want a lawyer," I sputtered out.

He grinned evilly. "Alright."

Masterson snapped his fingers, and Avi pushed the TV in front of me on the other side of the table. He turned it on, and then they both left the room.

The video was in perfect color, and the angle was high up, showing the dark park underneath. It looked like the camera must have been on a light post or something.

I saw two people holding hands. One was a small girl who was leaning on a larger guy, and even though I couldn't hear anything, I saw that they were both laughing. They looked ordinary and happy. The time stamp at the bottom left corner of the screen said that it was just past ten last night.

I watched them walk the path of the well-lit park for a couple of seconds.

Out of nowhere, a figure pushed them both into the bushes. It happened so fast that I didn't even see them leave. One second they were there; the next they weren't. I waited for the loving couple to re-emerge. They never did.

Exactly five minutes later, I saw myself stumble out of the bushes with tattered clothes and blood falling from my lip. I looked directly up at the camera on the light post, and then ran down the path, out of the park.

What the fuck was that?

"Do you still want your lawyer?" Masterson stuck his head into the room, and I could tell that he was fighting a smile.

I didn't even have the motor functions to nod.

My brow was drenched in sweat, my heart was thundering, my pulse was throbbing, and my whole body felt exhausted, even though I hadn't done anything.

"How about we watch it again while we wait for your lawyer," Masterson suggested and rewound the tape. He played it from the beginning and left the room.

After I watched it for the second time, I felt like I needed to throw up.

That was me on the video. There was no doubt about that. What happened in the bushes was up for debate, but this didn't look good for me at all. I looked down at my hands, which had supposedly hurt two people intentionally. Could that really be possible?

Of course it couldn't be. I would have remembered something like this.

The door banged open and a smartly dressed man stepped in. "Get up, Edward. We're leaving."

"Jenks, I didn't do anything. I swear to you that I didn't do it." I stood up quickly.

"I know, Edward." He patted my back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Avi stood in the doorway.

"My client did nothing wrong," Jenks said. He had been the family's lawyer since way back when my father was alive.

"Like hell he didn't. He's under arrest. We have more than enough evidence to charge him for assault, along with a dozen other things."

"He won't be going to jail."

"And how are you going to swing that one, Jenks?" A very tall women with bright red hair stepped into the room.

"Well, Victoria, he has a condition," my lawyer answered. "Just because you're the ADA doesn't mean you can overlook certain things."

I didn't say anything, because I had no idea what was going on.

"A condition?" She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"It's called 'not guilty by reason of mental defect'," Jenks said smugly.

Say what?

"Let's stop playing around." She rolled her eyes. "Your client is in perfect mental health, and he knew what he was doing."

"Tell her, Edward." Jenks pointed at me. "Tell her what you remember from last night."

How the hell did he know I had no memory? How did he know that I didn't have any recollection of last night's events?

"I… I can't remember," I stammered.

"He's lying," Avi interjected.

"I'm not," I contended. "I have no idea what I did last night. I can't remember."

"And does that happen often, Edward?" Jenks asked me.

"Yes," I answered truthfully, "more so in the past couple of months."

"It's referred to as Multiple Personality Disorder, and I guarantee you that Mr. Masen won't be spending a second in jail."

"This is bullshit," Masterson yelled. "He assaulted a dozen people. We have him on camera."

"You won't get him out of this one, Jenks." Victoria's lips were twitching.

"He can't remember a thing. How can you expect him to be held criminally responsible if you can't even question him on the events of last night?" Jenks was getting very heated now. "He is simply not well."

I didn't know what was being said, but I sure as hell didn't think I was insane. Didn't people like that usually have symptoms? Didn't they live in crazy houses with shackles and padded rooms? I just decided to stay silent. I wouldn't help my case at all.

"You're trying to tell me that he's insane?" Victoria raised her eyebrow higher.

"Yes, temporarily or otherwise, but yes."

"This is too much for me to even believe," she cackled. "I'll see you in court."

Jenks wasn't able to pull enough weight to keep me out of lockup.

I was fingerprinted, my mug shot was taken, and I was thrown in a lonely cell to wait until my arraignment the next morning.

I had never in my life been through something like this. I hadn't even seen the inside of a cop car until tonight. It was so strange to be in the position of so many criminals, whom I had seen on TV. No one told me anything, and I was still in the dark as the morning came.

I was put in the same cruiser that I had been brought in and taken to the courthouse where Jenks was waiting.

"It's okay, Edward. We're going to take care of this," he assured me.

"What the hell is going on?"

"You're sick, Edward."

"I'm not sick," I almost shouted.

"Keep your voice down." He pulled me to the side. "I need you to trust me. I know what I'm doing. You're sick. I've looked over the studies and your case; it's the only way I can describe it."

I was at a loss of what to say.

"Edward!" I heard a sweet voice yell from down the hall.

I turned around right as my mother threw herself at me. I caught her and staggered backwards.

"What 's going on?" she asked worriedly.

"I got arrested last night."

"I know. Everyone's talking about it. I'm so confused."

"It's okay, Ms. Masen. We're going to take care of everything," Jenks said tenderly.

It killed me to see my mother so worried. I was all she had after my father died. Edward Sr., as he was known, took care of us well and was killed in a car accident right before I went off to college. Thankfully, he had left us with a shit load of money, so we never had to struggle after he was gone. I was an only child, and this wasn't looking well for the Masens at the moment.

I stood in front of a packed courthouse—that was just for my arraignment. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if I actually went to trial.

Jenks worked masterfully and pulled out all the legal jargon he could, but I don't think it was enough to save me. He argued that I was an outstanding member of the community and wasn't a flight risk. This is where he kind of slipped up. If I was mentally unstable like he concluded, I shouldn't be left to roam the streets. The judge obviously agreed. I was placed under lock up without bail.

My mother visited me every day for the next week.

She told me that things were a complete mess, and I was being called some kind of lunatic. I still couldn't remember anything, but I was deeply upset. I wanted to apologize. I felt like I had to. I didn't mean to hurt anyone, and I just wanted this to go away.

I never heard a word from Kate and to be honest, I couldn't even think about her right now. I would deal with my personal relationships after I got out of here. James was also a no-show and I figured he would be. As much of a friend as he was, if there was any path that saves his own ass, he would take it.

Jail was... jail. There was no other way to describe it. I did notice that I wasn't placed in the general population. If it was any indication as to my future, the man in the cell next to me was in there for murder because "the men in his head told him to". That's what he kept screaming, at least.

On my fifth day in lockup, three shrinks visited me. One was court appointed, one was paid for by my mother, and the other was a man from Yale, who was supposedly the best. I didn't know why they were visiting me, but I didn't complain. I would take anything as long as I could figure out what was going on.

They all came up with the same conclusion: I was insane.

One of them called it selective blackout episodes, another called it multiple personality disorder, and the other said I had an alternate persona. I had a split personality basically. It was like having another person inside of me that I had no control over and no idea how to stop him from coming out. I hadn't had an problem since being locked up, so I couldn't really describe what it felt like to have someone else taking over my body. There wasn't any physical evidence of my new persona, but I was told by the psychiatrists that he was in there. The duality of my being was terrifying.

That was a strange day.

How are you supposed to act when you learn that you're crazy? I didn't feel any different, but it was obvious that there was something wrong with me. I had never been on medication or drugs, so I didn't know how I was supposed to be getting help. Now, my system was pumped full of shit, all in an effort to keep the beast at bay.

It was like my life was spiraling out of control. There was no way for me to even stop it, because I had no idea what was really going on. They did tests and asked me questions. They showed me pictures that I was supposed to distinguish, and even tried something with electro shock. It was just through my hand, but it was extremely strange to feel. I didn't know if anything was helping.

My court date was set and the days passed, like sand dripping from an hourglass.

I never spoke to anyone. I didn't even look where I wasn't supposed to. I played by the rules, like I always did, because I was in deep shit.

I was a realist, so I knew what was going on. There was no way they could find me anything but guilty. Not guilty wasn't even an option. I had watched that tape a thousand times. There was no doubt in my mind that I had not only harmed both Abby Mitchell and Ryan Basford, but a whole slew of people who suddenly came forward after I was arrested. From what I learned, I had also robbed a couple dozen places, set fire to a few businesses, and beaten a homeless man senseless. All of this was over a five-month period, and I remembered nothing.

My trial was moved to Portland so that the jury could be impartial, but I was still going to the doghouse. I wasn't so jaded that I believed in a 'not guilty' verdict for me. Even I would put my ass in jail. I needed to be locked up. I wasn't healthy.

Jenks shifted his defense strategy from getting me acquitted, to getting me safely put into a mental institution for help. I was on medication, but I needed something long term. From the way it was explained to me, I was going to spend the rest of my life, outcast from society, because it wasn't safe for people to be around me.

On the morning of my trial, I threw up six times, and that was even before I was led into the courthouse in shackles. The State of Washington v. Edward Masen was the hottest media ticket in half a decade. My mother was the only one of my friends or family in my corner.

I sat on the left side of the courtroom while the lawyers battled it out.

Statements were made; doctors were put on the stand and gave their explanations as to how I couldn't be held accountable for my actions, because I wasn't completely functioning at the time of my attacks.

The trial didn't even take the full day. I thought that was slightly unfair. How could I be judged fairly if I wasn't given more time to plead my case?

When I was on the stand, I was bombarded with questions about that night. I couldn't answer any of them. It was a literal blank slate. Of course, everyone thought I was lying, but if they could see inside my head, they would have been just as confused as I was.

The waiting for a verdict was the worst. I was held in a cell in the back. Esme came to wait with me. She didn't say anything, but she had been somewhat silent throughout all of this. I was her golden boy. Now, I'm sure she saw me as a menace; just like everyone else.

"Mr. Masen, please stand for the ruling." The judge banged his gavel as the jury started to pile back into the courtroom.

I stood up and fixed my ugly, ubiquitous orange jump suit like it was a high fashioned jacket, with Jenks standing next to me. He had been very supportive throughout all of this and had done his best.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" the judge asked.

"We have your honor." The foreman stood.

"And how does it read?"

I closed my eyes and prayed to every God I could think of. This could either go two ways: I was going to be reprieved slightly and sent to get treatment for my psychosis, or I was going to be locked up in jail without any help and left to rot for the rest of my life. I would rather have the lesser of two evils.

"We the jury, find the defendant, Edward Masen, not guilty due to mental defect."

There was an audible gasp from the room and a lot of small murmurs.

I almost collapsed as the weight of the trial finally fell on my shoulders. Jenks had to hold me up.

"Quiet down." The judge banged his gavel again.

The trial ended with me being sentenced to seek unlimited counseling at the Windemere Center for Mental Illness and Disorder Treatment. Long name for a mental asylum.

And that is where my story begins.

A/N:

Hello, lovers. I'm back with another crazy and literally insane fic. I know, it sounds like this can only go down hill from chapter 1, but its actually going to be really fun. A whole great cast of characters is lined up for this one and I can't wait to see what you guys think.

Don't worry, this isn't going to turn into a scary, insane asylum fic. It's going to be fun and if you've been reading anything else I've written, you know I like to push boundaries with my writing. I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve. This will be a B/E fic mainly from E's POV.

Thank you in advance for any alerts/favs/reviews/pimpage from the readers. I write for you guys and you're pretty fucking awesome. I also need to give a huge shoutout to my chicks. JennyB0719 who betas my horrible chapters and Suzie55 who pre-reads. They're both amazing and have great fics out there. Go look them up.

I plan on updating this fic every Monday after this week. Chapter two will be up on Thursday.

I'm fairly reachable and always get back to emails, things like that. All my info can be found on my profile but follow me on twitter for update info and any other mess that comes out of my mouth(at)johnnyboy1029

Review and tell me what you think. I've been writing for a long time so I know the drill. It will take you guys a couple chapters to get into it, but stick with it. That's all I can say. lol. Hope you enjoy.