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He could hardly sit through the rest of his classes thinking about what it could be. When Laura got to his house he was chilling out playing xbox and...he let her in and turned off the tv. She sat there for a while then started to talk. ‘When I was younger I used to celebrate my birthday like every kid did’ she started. ‘But on my 18th birthday I was set to have a massive party with all of my friends coming and things went wrong. None of my so called friends showed up and they left me sitting. I didn’t want to look like my mother after a lifetime of work — a wrinkled old crone by the time she was forty.’ She paused and then spoke again. ‘I think that I was always like that, even as a child, I was selfish and self-obsessed as Narcissus. ‘I thought that I was entitled to be showered with riches, I would be one of the beautiful and glamorous people. I would rise above my earlier station to an elevated status. I would be the envy of every woman I met. ‘And when he tempted me with his. When the dust settled, and I looked up, I realized a couple of things: one, I had just written a fucking novel in a week, whoa. Two, it seemed to be pretty damn good, double whoa. And three, what the hell was I going to do with it? I tried editing it, I even enlisted the help of a Lit-Editor, who was invaluable for early editing, and confirming it was in fact, pretty good, or readable at least. I spent several months then, editing, unashamedly forcing it on writer friends to read, regular. She moaned, trying to move her head away from the light. Too late she realized her mistake. The sudden movement shot a wicked spasm of white hot pain through her head. Someone slapped her face lightly, telling her to wake up and be done with it. Another voice, angrier than the first, came to her defense, while still another spoke to her with a slight accent. None of them made any sense and only one of them sounded familiar, the one that had belonged to the man who had slapped her. The fog began.
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