I sat in a giant room that the mirror showed in the most. I smiled silently, grabbing a handful of my hair. God, what have I done wrong?, I whisked, small tears forming in my eyes. Jeremy hadn't come again; I suppose it's inevitable, but it hurts. Hurts so much. Like hunger stabbing at my stomach, like that one night when the mirror began to appear. I didn't know what to do, how do I leave? I don't belong. I'll never belong- ever. I felt something began to sink into my bones; something that tasted like poison. I grumbled under my breath, looking at my gauze infested hands. I continued to stare at them, cocking my head slightly. Had The Star-Keeper wrapped them up for me? I smiled at the thought, the venom leaving my bones as soon as the thought picked up speed- sending it through me like a rush of water. 

A hand gripped my shoulder, making me look back at them. I looked back in surprise, staring into deep brown eyes. Jeremy wrapped me into a hug, and, begrudgingly, I hugged back, hiccuping and tearful. I felt a cold familiar hand gently pat me on the back, and when I looked up, it was no longer Jeremy. I was staring into the stoic, gentle eyes of the Star-Keeper. I sobbed harder, clenching my fists in slight anger and terror. I snuffled, and rubbed some snot off my face, him reaching out gently and wiping my tears. He sighed, grabbing my hand gently.

"Come, Mr. Naidu, let's return you to your room." He said in his low, bass tone voice. I nodded, walking after him and repeating what he said like a cursed bird. Thats when I noticed Howell, sitting alone on the couch. 

"Wait!" I screeched, The Star-Keeper stalling, and letting go of my hand- smiling. "You wish to see Lucin, correct?" he asked, reading my mind. I nodded quickly, running over to Howell. Lucin? Who's Lucin? Why had he called Howell Lucin? I shrugged it off, sitting beside my dear friend Howell- smiling widely at him. 

"Are you feeling any better, Howell?" I asked, him shrugging gently, replying with a gentle click of his tongue. "Depends," he said; "define 'better', and, 'feeling'." I sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. I feared that my dear friend Howell was losing his sanity. Or was I? What a thoughtful question to ask the Star-Keeper tomorrow when he delivers my stars. I frown deeply, thinking. 

"Would you please be so polite as to remove your hand from my shoulder?" he scoffed, as I slowly removed my hand from his broad arm. He nodded in appreciation, smiling at me. I felt my heart flutter, looking down. No, he's my dear friend Howell- not my dear lover Howell. I looked back at him, shuddering as he slipped a worm into his mouth, swallowing. His Adams Apple jumping as he did so. I felt bile rise in my throat, the green ink trying to escape. He continued to read, eating more worms. Leaving me groaning in disgust.