The moon rose high and bright in the inky black sky, nearly full and casting a baleful, yellowish light across the grounds of Amityville High. Shadows stretched beneath the spindly, leave-less trees, twisting and unfurling beside walls, brush, and the occasional creature that lurked in the darkness. A few chittering calls could be heard, cutting through the night air, and every few moments or so a gentle breeze twitched through the gnarled branches, the trunks of the trees creaking and swaying slightly.

Ensconced away in his room, lightly tan hair falling free about his face, Sparrow Heartreed was pacing again. Booted feet crossed back and forth again over a now well-worn, cream coloured carpet, the reaper's face half hidden in shadow.

He was still dressed; not entirely, considering his blue coat was tossed in a particularly haphazard way over the back of the chair. Surprising, considering how much of a stickler for good hygiene and cleanliness the reaper was. But he had become lax, as of late; uncaring, and right now he was still wearing his slacks with the boots, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and the vest was hanging loose over his arms, unfastened. Even his hair, which was normally so neat and tidy, was lank and limp against his cheeks, pale and drawn.

The look was not a good one; Sparrow did not look well, even by his own standards. But his own appearance was the last on his mind - anyone's appearance was, for that matter.

He could not get Asia's last word out of his head.

"Fools."

Sparrow had seen the horsewoman as she had been guided away, pressed by the others on either side of her; her "siblings," as they had begun to refer to one another. The proud, haughty face, the clear disdain for the creatures which she passed by. It was undeniable - she was angry at them, thought less of who they were.

But for what reason, exactly? Because they had all been weak enough to get caught?

Sparrow's mind would not seem to settle.

I am not a fool. I am not a fool. I am not a fool.

It was a mantra in his head, repeated over and over again. Up on one of the high shelves that lay from one side of the wall to the next, Dihi fluttered worriedly, tiny golden wings flapping as he soared across the room to land beside Copernicus, dozing in his basket. The Pavo had been very quiet lately, remaining silently and loyally beside Sparrow as though trying to protect him from something, but even the pet had gotten tired after a while, and was now sleeping quite fitfully.

There was a small flapping noise; something small and cold fell onto Sparrow's shoulder, and he turned his eyes, just barely, to catch a glimpse of the silver golem that had landed there.

No greetings were said, but Sparrow reached up a hand to gently rest upon the little creature's body all the same.

"Fools."

Except he was - that was a fact. He had died, hadn't he? Felt the overwhelming pain and sheer agony of the flames that had seared into his skin, melting his very flesh and bone until he had dissipated entirely, reawakening back in the school nurse's office.

The jittery, nervous feelings had not gone away. Neither had the feelings of complete and utter uselessness.

Sparrow's feet had stopped moving when Komui had landed on his shoulder, but now they started up again, the reaper pacing back and forth, back and forth, his movements almost rhythmical in nature.

He debated calling his family; his mother and father were sure to understand -

Or would they? Sparrow was not so certain anymore. He could not think of a single circumstance they had gone through that would even compare to what had happened nearly three days ago. James and Lalita Heartreed had never been burned alive, the pain so thorough and the agony so intense that it had consumed them until the FEAR had been drawn out and they had dissipated entirely.

They won't understand, the nagging, irritating little voice in his head whispered. They can't possibly understand what it is I'm going through.

Roch's words, back again. His taunting, his mocking - did he really believe that just because he had experienced what Sparrow had that they were exactly the same? The boil could not even begin to understand all of the emotions that were raging through him right now.

Roch did not understand, would never understand - just like his parents would never understand.

The pacing had stopped for a third time, but now it started up again, Sparrow closing his eyes briefly, trying to regain some shred of his former self.

I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive.

The mantra had changed.