Leave Me Lying Here
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
41
Views:
27,585
Reviews:
427
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
41
Views:
27,585
Reviews:
427
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Bastard of Self-mutilation
Title: Leave Me Lying Here (32/?) 08/23/03
Author: Lydia Nightshade (nightshade10312001@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Jack/Will; Ana Maria/Elizabeth
Rating: R
Warnings: Swearing, some gay bashing, cutting and horrible villainization of certain characters.
Disclaimer: HA! I own nothing! I’m a pathetic college student that can’t seem to stop writing gay porn! LoL! It’s a sickness really….or an obsession….hmmmm. The title is a line from the Veruca Salt song Volcano Girls. I don’t own that either I just think it goes well with the fic and I love Veruca Salt!
Beta: Mistaya and Mike
Feedback: I like the death threats, I want more damn you! I don’t know… feedback makes me happy.
Summary: I finally get to throw in some more psychological disorders for little William. We discover another one of his old dirty habits, Barbossa is still a bastard and Jack’s… well… he’s perpetually drunk these days. Bloody hard to live with! Crying and spilling rum all over me and the muses.
Author’s Notes: Dear gawd! I’ve been writing this bloody story for fucking two years! Gah! And I thought I took too long with the fucking Price of Rum story. I’ve been in a massive funk lately. I FINALLY GRADUATED UNI!!! Which is awesome, but now I need a job and I suck at that…
Author’s Notes 2: I’ll be going to London from August 6-13th. Not feeling very confident what with all the bombings that have been going on. So if you never hear from me again I’m really sorry I didn’t write this faster. *gulps*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Little red lines, little red lines, such pretty little red lines.
Will sat on his bed, his sleeve rolled up to his elbow and his old razorblade in his hand. Slowly he moved the blade across the smooth flesh of his forearm watching as the little red lines came into view and made him smile in grim satisfaction. Barbossa could take away his phone, his computer and his freedom, but the old bastard could never take away all his control. Will controlled his pain. The box with all his ‘tools’ was still buried in his closet just where he had left it all those years ago.
Normally he would have cut on his thigh or somewhere less visible, however since his return home no one really cared about his wellbeing so he could cut wherever he pleased. Barbossa hounded him almost every day for information on Lizzie—would send in Bosun to scare him and physically harass him, but he had stayed strong. Through kohl rimmed eyes the depressed teen smiled sadistically as he carved a happy face into his own flesh. The sting was exquisite and he couldn’t seem to stop once he started.
He was clad in the clothes that Jack had purchased him from Hot Topic, a Jack Skelington sweatshirt and black jeans, not to mention Jack’s pirate bandana. Once the police had determined there was no useful evidence on the clothes they were returned and now they were all that Will wore, much to his adopted father’s chagrin. What did it matter what Will wore now though? He was never allowed to leave the house anyway.
His other arm was bandaged up from his cutting experiments, something the maid insisted on. Will was content to just let them bleed—his precious little red lines. Little red lines of power—control.
“Cutting again I see, any chance you’ll hit a vein and put yourself out of my misery?” Barbossa’s sly voice oozed into Will’s consciousness and the teen turned only to snarl at the older man. Barbossa was undeterred. As he moved through the room Will watched him like a caged beast wanting a taste of his abusive master. Barbossa had come to represent both fear and loathing in the young man’s mind. This old cad had so much power over him that it was impossible not to be slightly afraid, and yet Will hated him with all his being for putting him through such hell.
“The only reason I don’t kill myself is to make your life rotten by my very breathing, you miserable old bastard.” Will hissed. The older man stormed over to him and snatched away the razorblade. Will hissed in pain as the blade was forced into his palm. This wasn’t a wound he caused, it hurt.
“Still human after all? Too bad, you seem to be trying so hard to become a ‘creature of the night’ as they say.” he scoffed, watching Will wince over his wound. “And what is with this pirate beading?” he asked, fiddling with the string of jewels and beads Jack had woven into Will’s hair, which caused the teen to rip himself away and back into the corner, still clutching his hand.
“Hit a soft spot have I? Was that another gift from your precious kidnapper? You know I can take that too don’t you?” his voice was dark and menacing. Will nodded wide-eyed, the fear of being separated from the trinket making him more afraid than he was when Bosun was beating him. The elder man smirked. “Good. Don’t ever forget what I can do to you. If I wanted I could get Avery brought in here as your new ‘tutor’.” The old bastard threatened.
“Please don’t…” Will muttered. Avery still scared him to his very soul. He had tricked him and overpowered him more than once. What would the golden Adonis do if given another chance at him? He didn’t want to find out and he hated to grovel, but that was all he had left.
“Please don’t… what?” Barbossa jabbed. Will took a deep breath, pressing on his fresh cuts and picking at the edges, the feel of blood coagulating under his nails was strangely calming.
“Please don’t… sir.” he muttered, hating himself and the other man at the same time. He felt his stomach churn at the look on Barbossa’s face—so smug.
“That’s a good boy. Any information for me?” he cooed, twirling the blade around in his fingers, smiling to himself as Will’s eyes followed it. “You can get this back if you just tell me where my precious Elizabeth is.” Will could feel the bile rising in his throat. He wanted his blade, he needed his blade.
‘But… it’s Lizzie… I can’t…’ he sighed dejectedly and just shook his head indicating a negative. “How could I? You’ve taken my phone and computer.” He could hear the annoyed breath and then Barbossa stomping out of his room… with the only razorblade he had left.
“Shit…”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Want another?” Jack looked up from his empty glass of Captain n’ Coke to the sexy young bartender. The young man made him think of Will, then again, since their split every male under thirty seemed to remind him of William Turner.
“Of course, luv.” He smiled seductively. The twenty-something smiled back and poured him another. “So what’s your name, beautiful?” Jack purred. The youth smiled in similar fashion.
“Tristan,” (1) he replied, handing the glass back full. He had piercing blue eyes and several braids in his long dark locks. Under each eye, on his cheekbones, was a small tattoo in a script Jack didn’t understand.
“What are those for?” the biker slurred, reaching out to touch one. Tristan allowed it, taking Jack’s hand into his own and kissing it.
“Tribal,” he offered and nothing more, a knowing smirk on his face as he played with his short beard. Jack raised his eyebrow as if he understood and continued to play with Tristan’s fingers.
“Can I join?” he cooed. Tristan smirked.
“Maybe.”
“What’s the initiation rite?” Jack persisted, taking a large gulp of his rum and pulling the young man closer to the bar.
“Only if my boyfriends are okay with it. We’ve never had a four-way before.” The sheer joy Tristan obviously got from Jack’s blue balls was practically criminal. That had been about the last thing the biker had expected him to say—maybe ‘boyfriend’ but not ‘boyfriends’ as in plural! What was the world coming to?
With an uncomfortable smile Jack slowly pulled his hand back and nodded. “Yeah, thanks kid—made me feel old.” Tristan laughed.
“I’m serious.” Jack downed the rest of his rum and groaned in agreement.
“Aye, I know, that’s what worries me.” He nodded in the direction of an elderly gentleman trying to pick up young women. Jack had bumped into him earlier by accident and the man had been very nasty. The waitresses didn’t seem to care for him much either. “That guy’s gonna get my tab.”
“Mm-hmm… sure.” Tristan scoffed. It didn’t matter, Jack was cute and the owner wouldn’t miss a few glasses of rum. “Are you sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?” he mock-pouted as he suggestively cleaned a glass. A frown graced the sexually frustrated biker’s face, but he indicated negative.
“Nah, man… thanks though. Makes me feel desirable—even more than the rum in me system.” Tristan nodded and checked out Jack’s ass as he left ‘Hellraiser’ and headed back to the Pearl. It was a warm night and a ride would feel great right about now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A knock on his bedroom door stirred Will from his misery as he stared out the big picture window by his bed. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. Bosun had a very strong presence about him that seemed to radiate off the very particles in the air. Feeling a wave of fear wash over his slight frame, the teen curled up tighter on himself and rocked slightly. After all this time his bruises should have been healed, but since Barbossa had ordered regular beatings they ‘mysteriously’ remained on his face.
“Supper time. Your presence is required.”
“I’m not hungry.” Will snapped, turning up the volume on his stereo so his depressed music blasted louder. Without pause, Bosun stormed up to the teen and ripped the remote from his hand and yanked Will from his seat by his hair. A cry of pain escaped Will’s mouth, but that was it. He heard his music being turned off as he was led forcefully out of the room towards the dinning room.
“Why do I have to go every night when no one wants me there?” Will protested, struggling slightly as he was practically dragged to dinner.
“I don’t ask why, I just do what they pay me for.” Bosun shoved Will into the dinning room door, making it open loudly. He released the teen before Swann saw anything and smirked at the old man’s look of irritation at Will’s entrance.
“Can’t you even open a door politely anymore?” he sighed, going back to his meal. Will sucked on his lip, holding back tears. How had his life come to this? Fake dinners with fake family that he was forced to go to by his fake bodyguard.
“Guess not.” Without another word he shuffled to his place and stared down at the meal prepared for him. It looked delicious, but he couldn’t find any desire to eat in such wretched company. Barbossa and Swann made small talk as Will slowly mushed up his carrots and then used his fork to turn them all into one big orange blob next to his mashed potatoes. The meat looked so rare it could still be mooing so he didn’t even bother to touch it.
“I was thinking of having a tutor brought in for William. He’s a colleague of mine.” Will looked up at the mention of his name, eyeing Barbossa cautiously. What was this ‘tutor’ going to do to him? The snide old man noticed he’d caught Will’s attention so he turned to look at him with censure. “His name is Avery and he’s quite good with young men.”
“That would be a wonderful idea.” Swann said. Both older men jumped at the loud clang caused by Will dropping his silver fork on his plate, a look of sheer terror on his face.
“No…” his eyes started to water and he shook visibly.
“Honestly, William, it’s only a tutor. You’ve been out of school so long it doesn’t look right.”
“Dad, please… I’ll do anything you want, just don’t make him be my tutor.” Will was almost desperate. “I’ll… I’ll go to church, I’ll dress normal again… I won’t ever think about men again, just don’t let him in this house!”
“Don’t raise your voice at the dinner table.” Swann snapped. “And I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me ‘dad’ anymore. You need a tutor and that’s final. I’m not doing you any favors, ungrateful brat.” Barbossa just sat back smiling evilly as he watched the last bit of Will’s resolve shattering. Finally… the teen had been broken.
Will just sat there, tears slowly overflowing from his bloodshot eyes, looking confused and lost as he stared at his plate. His entire world had just shattered before his very eyes and he couldn’t quite grasp it. How could Barbossa possibly be this evil?
“Please…” he whispered, looking more pitiful than ever.
“Take him back to his room,” Barbossa sighed, waving dismissively. “He’s spoiling my meal with his repugnant attitude.”
“Yes, sir.” Bosun slapped his big hand down on Will’s shoulder. “Come on kid.” Will just sat there completely stunned.
“But…”
“For heaven’s sake, William, just go. You’re not eating anyway. So wasteful.” Swann huffed, ignoring the teen’s turmoil. With a nod Will got up and allowed himself to be guided back to his room, this time without a struggle. Bosun shoved him into his room and then locked the door. The small clicking sound of the bolt slipping into place seemed to echo on forever—sealing his fate.
They were going to bring Avery in to torture him now? That he couldn’t stand. But he couldn’t give up Lizzie to Barbossa, so what could he do? He looked around at his suddenly claustrophobic room.
‘Run away…’
“What? I can’t…” he stopped when he realized he was answering his own thoughts. All this solitude really must be getting to his already stressed mind. It did make sense though. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It was so simple. Just run away. He could shinny down the side of the house and be gone before morning. ‘I can find Jack again.’ He smiled at the thought of finally being with his lover again. The only man that he felt cared for him.
“Jack…” the word seemed synonymous with hope. Without further thought he started to pack.
Tbc…
Sorry y’all, I was going to make it longer but I’m too damn tired to write anymore and I’ve got to fly out tomorrow. I’m giving this to Mike to post, the darling. I’ve left instructions with both him and Juui-chan.
Only one number thingy. Who is Tristan? He’s from a movie. I’ll give you a hint: Keira Knightly is in it. Get it right and earn yourself a spoiler. E-mail is: nightshade10312001@yahoo.com
Author: Lydia Nightshade (nightshade10312001@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Jack/Will; Ana Maria/Elizabeth
Rating: R
Warnings: Swearing, some gay bashing, cutting and horrible villainization of certain characters.
Disclaimer: HA! I own nothing! I’m a pathetic college student that can’t seem to stop writing gay porn! LoL! It’s a sickness really….or an obsession….hmmmm. The title is a line from the Veruca Salt song Volcano Girls. I don’t own that either I just think it goes well with the fic and I love Veruca Salt!
Beta: Mistaya and Mike
Feedback: I like the death threats, I want more damn you! I don’t know… feedback makes me happy.
Summary: I finally get to throw in some more psychological disorders for little William. We discover another one of his old dirty habits, Barbossa is still a bastard and Jack’s… well… he’s perpetually drunk these days. Bloody hard to live with! Crying and spilling rum all over me and the muses.
Author’s Notes: Dear gawd! I’ve been writing this bloody story for fucking two years! Gah! And I thought I took too long with the fucking Price of Rum story. I’ve been in a massive funk lately. I FINALLY GRADUATED UNI!!! Which is awesome, but now I need a job and I suck at that…
Author’s Notes 2: I’ll be going to London from August 6-13th. Not feeling very confident what with all the bombings that have been going on. So if you never hear from me again I’m really sorry I didn’t write this faster. *gulps*
Little red lines, little red lines, such pretty little red lines.
Will sat on his bed, his sleeve rolled up to his elbow and his old razorblade in his hand. Slowly he moved the blade across the smooth flesh of his forearm watching as the little red lines came into view and made him smile in grim satisfaction. Barbossa could take away his phone, his computer and his freedom, but the old bastard could never take away all his control. Will controlled his pain. The box with all his ‘tools’ was still buried in his closet just where he had left it all those years ago.
Normally he would have cut on his thigh or somewhere less visible, however since his return home no one really cared about his wellbeing so he could cut wherever he pleased. Barbossa hounded him almost every day for information on Lizzie—would send in Bosun to scare him and physically harass him, but he had stayed strong. Through kohl rimmed eyes the depressed teen smiled sadistically as he carved a happy face into his own flesh. The sting was exquisite and he couldn’t seem to stop once he started.
He was clad in the clothes that Jack had purchased him from Hot Topic, a Jack Skelington sweatshirt and black jeans, not to mention Jack’s pirate bandana. Once the police had determined there was no useful evidence on the clothes they were returned and now they were all that Will wore, much to his adopted father’s chagrin. What did it matter what Will wore now though? He was never allowed to leave the house anyway.
His other arm was bandaged up from his cutting experiments, something the maid insisted on. Will was content to just let them bleed—his precious little red lines. Little red lines of power—control.
“Cutting again I see, any chance you’ll hit a vein and put yourself out of my misery?” Barbossa’s sly voice oozed into Will’s consciousness and the teen turned only to snarl at the older man. Barbossa was undeterred. As he moved through the room Will watched him like a caged beast wanting a taste of his abusive master. Barbossa had come to represent both fear and loathing in the young man’s mind. This old cad had so much power over him that it was impossible not to be slightly afraid, and yet Will hated him with all his being for putting him through such hell.
“The only reason I don’t kill myself is to make your life rotten by my very breathing, you miserable old bastard.” Will hissed. The older man stormed over to him and snatched away the razorblade. Will hissed in pain as the blade was forced into his palm. This wasn’t a wound he caused, it hurt.
“Still human after all? Too bad, you seem to be trying so hard to become a ‘creature of the night’ as they say.” he scoffed, watching Will wince over his wound. “And what is with this pirate beading?” he asked, fiddling with the string of jewels and beads Jack had woven into Will’s hair, which caused the teen to rip himself away and back into the corner, still clutching his hand.
“Hit a soft spot have I? Was that another gift from your precious kidnapper? You know I can take that too don’t you?” his voice was dark and menacing. Will nodded wide-eyed, the fear of being separated from the trinket making him more afraid than he was when Bosun was beating him. The elder man smirked. “Good. Don’t ever forget what I can do to you. If I wanted I could get Avery brought in here as your new ‘tutor’.” The old bastard threatened.
“Please don’t…” Will muttered. Avery still scared him to his very soul. He had tricked him and overpowered him more than once. What would the golden Adonis do if given another chance at him? He didn’t want to find out and he hated to grovel, but that was all he had left.
“Please don’t… what?” Barbossa jabbed. Will took a deep breath, pressing on his fresh cuts and picking at the edges, the feel of blood coagulating under his nails was strangely calming.
“Please don’t… sir.” he muttered, hating himself and the other man at the same time. He felt his stomach churn at the look on Barbossa’s face—so smug.
“That’s a good boy. Any information for me?” he cooed, twirling the blade around in his fingers, smiling to himself as Will’s eyes followed it. “You can get this back if you just tell me where my precious Elizabeth is.” Will could feel the bile rising in his throat. He wanted his blade, he needed his blade.
‘But… it’s Lizzie… I can’t…’ he sighed dejectedly and just shook his head indicating a negative. “How could I? You’ve taken my phone and computer.” He could hear the annoyed breath and then Barbossa stomping out of his room… with the only razorblade he had left.
“Shit…”
“Want another?” Jack looked up from his empty glass of Captain n’ Coke to the sexy young bartender. The young man made him think of Will, then again, since their split every male under thirty seemed to remind him of William Turner.
“Of course, luv.” He smiled seductively. The twenty-something smiled back and poured him another. “So what’s your name, beautiful?” Jack purred. The youth smiled in similar fashion.
“Tristan,” (1) he replied, handing the glass back full. He had piercing blue eyes and several braids in his long dark locks. Under each eye, on his cheekbones, was a small tattoo in a script Jack didn’t understand.
“What are those for?” the biker slurred, reaching out to touch one. Tristan allowed it, taking Jack’s hand into his own and kissing it.
“Tribal,” he offered and nothing more, a knowing smirk on his face as he played with his short beard. Jack raised his eyebrow as if he understood and continued to play with Tristan’s fingers.
“Can I join?” he cooed. Tristan smirked.
“Maybe.”
“What’s the initiation rite?” Jack persisted, taking a large gulp of his rum and pulling the young man closer to the bar.
“Only if my boyfriends are okay with it. We’ve never had a four-way before.” The sheer joy Tristan obviously got from Jack’s blue balls was practically criminal. That had been about the last thing the biker had expected him to say—maybe ‘boyfriend’ but not ‘boyfriends’ as in plural! What was the world coming to?
With an uncomfortable smile Jack slowly pulled his hand back and nodded. “Yeah, thanks kid—made me feel old.” Tristan laughed.
“I’m serious.” Jack downed the rest of his rum and groaned in agreement.
“Aye, I know, that’s what worries me.” He nodded in the direction of an elderly gentleman trying to pick up young women. Jack had bumped into him earlier by accident and the man had been very nasty. The waitresses didn’t seem to care for him much either. “That guy’s gonna get my tab.”
“Mm-hmm… sure.” Tristan scoffed. It didn’t matter, Jack was cute and the owner wouldn’t miss a few glasses of rum. “Are you sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?” he mock-pouted as he suggestively cleaned a glass. A frown graced the sexually frustrated biker’s face, but he indicated negative.
“Nah, man… thanks though. Makes me feel desirable—even more than the rum in me system.” Tristan nodded and checked out Jack’s ass as he left ‘Hellraiser’ and headed back to the Pearl. It was a warm night and a ride would feel great right about now.
A knock on his bedroom door stirred Will from his misery as he stared out the big picture window by his bed. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. Bosun had a very strong presence about him that seemed to radiate off the very particles in the air. Feeling a wave of fear wash over his slight frame, the teen curled up tighter on himself and rocked slightly. After all this time his bruises should have been healed, but since Barbossa had ordered regular beatings they ‘mysteriously’ remained on his face.
“Supper time. Your presence is required.”
“I’m not hungry.” Will snapped, turning up the volume on his stereo so his depressed music blasted louder. Without pause, Bosun stormed up to the teen and ripped the remote from his hand and yanked Will from his seat by his hair. A cry of pain escaped Will’s mouth, but that was it. He heard his music being turned off as he was led forcefully out of the room towards the dinning room.
“Why do I have to go every night when no one wants me there?” Will protested, struggling slightly as he was practically dragged to dinner.
“I don’t ask why, I just do what they pay me for.” Bosun shoved Will into the dinning room door, making it open loudly. He released the teen before Swann saw anything and smirked at the old man’s look of irritation at Will’s entrance.
“Can’t you even open a door politely anymore?” he sighed, going back to his meal. Will sucked on his lip, holding back tears. How had his life come to this? Fake dinners with fake family that he was forced to go to by his fake bodyguard.
“Guess not.” Without another word he shuffled to his place and stared down at the meal prepared for him. It looked delicious, but he couldn’t find any desire to eat in such wretched company. Barbossa and Swann made small talk as Will slowly mushed up his carrots and then used his fork to turn them all into one big orange blob next to his mashed potatoes. The meat looked so rare it could still be mooing so he didn’t even bother to touch it.
“I was thinking of having a tutor brought in for William. He’s a colleague of mine.” Will looked up at the mention of his name, eyeing Barbossa cautiously. What was this ‘tutor’ going to do to him? The snide old man noticed he’d caught Will’s attention so he turned to look at him with censure. “His name is Avery and he’s quite good with young men.”
“That would be a wonderful idea.” Swann said. Both older men jumped at the loud clang caused by Will dropping his silver fork on his plate, a look of sheer terror on his face.
“No…” his eyes started to water and he shook visibly.
“Honestly, William, it’s only a tutor. You’ve been out of school so long it doesn’t look right.”
“Dad, please… I’ll do anything you want, just don’t make him be my tutor.” Will was almost desperate. “I’ll… I’ll go to church, I’ll dress normal again… I won’t ever think about men again, just don’t let him in this house!”
“Don’t raise your voice at the dinner table.” Swann snapped. “And I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me ‘dad’ anymore. You need a tutor and that’s final. I’m not doing you any favors, ungrateful brat.” Barbossa just sat back smiling evilly as he watched the last bit of Will’s resolve shattering. Finally… the teen had been broken.
Will just sat there, tears slowly overflowing from his bloodshot eyes, looking confused and lost as he stared at his plate. His entire world had just shattered before his very eyes and he couldn’t quite grasp it. How could Barbossa possibly be this evil?
“Please…” he whispered, looking more pitiful than ever.
“Take him back to his room,” Barbossa sighed, waving dismissively. “He’s spoiling my meal with his repugnant attitude.”
“Yes, sir.” Bosun slapped his big hand down on Will’s shoulder. “Come on kid.” Will just sat there completely stunned.
“But…”
“For heaven’s sake, William, just go. You’re not eating anyway. So wasteful.” Swann huffed, ignoring the teen’s turmoil. With a nod Will got up and allowed himself to be guided back to his room, this time without a struggle. Bosun shoved him into his room and then locked the door. The small clicking sound of the bolt slipping into place seemed to echo on forever—sealing his fate.
They were going to bring Avery in to torture him now? That he couldn’t stand. But he couldn’t give up Lizzie to Barbossa, so what could he do? He looked around at his suddenly claustrophobic room.
‘Run away…’
“What? I can’t…” he stopped when he realized he was answering his own thoughts. All this solitude really must be getting to his already stressed mind. It did make sense though. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It was so simple. Just run away. He could shinny down the side of the house and be gone before morning. ‘I can find Jack again.’ He smiled at the thought of finally being with his lover again. The only man that he felt cared for him.
“Jack…” the word seemed synonymous with hope. Without further thought he started to pack.
Tbc…
Sorry y’all, I was going to make it longer but I’m too damn tired to write anymore and I’ve got to fly out tomorrow. I’m giving this to Mike to post, the darling. I’ve left instructions with both him and Juui-chan.
Only one number thingy. Who is Tristan? He’s from a movie. I’ll give you a hint: Keira Knightly is in it. Get it right and earn yourself a spoiler. E-mail is: nightshade10312001@yahoo.com