ᨮ꫶ׁׅ֮ᨵׁׅυׁׅ'ꭈׁׅꫀׁׅܻ tׁׅɑׁׅ֮ᝯׁᨵׁׅ

It had been almost three months since everything had happened.

Cobs’ death. MePad’s death. Knife’s death. And everything else in between. Every little thing reminded you of him.

After everything, OJ had finally given you a room at the hotel. You were trying—really trying—to make things right. Pickle still hadn’t fully forgiven you, but you were doing your best to rebuild what was lost. Piece by piece.

Still, you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. You barely ate. Most days, you couldn’t even get out of bed. Today was no different. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, stomach aching from hunger you kept ignoring.

Eventually, though, the pain became too much to bear. You forced yourself to get up. Maybe eat something. Just enough to get by.

But as you stepped out into the hallway, the silence shattered.

A voice echoed from the basement/Test Tubes lab—sharp, electrified with excitement.

Test Tube: “I’VE DONE IT!!”