Mortal Wounds

Chapter Fourteen

Invidian's POV

Ascanius 10:30 pm:

Vanitas told me what happened. Please contact me, brother, I wish to talk once you're ready.

I stuff the phone in my pocket and conceal myself in the shadows of the CEO's car. Ascanius contacting me is the last thing I need tonight, and I sigh, playing with the wire and knife in my hands. In the parking lot of Gomorrah's bar, a couple walks past, laughing and swinging their intertwined hands. Their shadows touch me as they pass by, too drunk off their faces to notice me. The driver's door rips open and in the side mirror I see the CEO climb into the driver's seat. The car shakes as he slams the door shut, smelling of beer.

"f*****g w****s," the CEO mutters underneath his breath, trying to turn the car on quite sloppily.

He doesn't have time to react when I wrap the wire around his throat and pull him back against the seat. Fumbling to rip the wire off, he tries to shout for help only to let out a strangled squeak when I choke him. Coughs of pain erupts from his mouth.

"We met quite abruptly last time. Figured we could make up for the lost time with a road trip," I mutter in his ear.

"You again? You've got to be f*****g kidding me. What do you want now?" he rasps, instantly recognising me despite the body change.

"Thought we could have a lovely chat. I want to know everything about the Evanderous family, Chief Wheldon and Henley Price."

He breathes out a laugh which turns to strangled coughs when I pull the wire tighter.

"You're not nearly as tough as Raguel Wheldon and the Evanderous family, kid."

"I doubt they are as psychotic as the Lilith family."

He coughs a few more times, turning his head to get a good look at me. I can feel my eyes shine red and he stiffens.

"You're one of them."

"Back from the grave. I am the one who died in the apartment alongside Henley."

He goes paler by a few shades but refuses to appear intimidated.

"Y—you were the one who died, who we covered up your death."

"Yes. That was your grave mistake. I want to know the truth."

"The truth? Well, I have no f*****g idea what truly happened. I was only paid to do my job."

I pull back the wire tighter in warning before loosening it again. He goes into a coughing fit before rubbing his throat. I lean towards his ear.

"If you don't want to be hunted down like the swine you are, tell me the truth. How did I die? What is the truth behind Henley's death?" I growl.

"Wait, kid, I know where Henley Price used to live. Her mother! You can talk to her mother about this. I can drive you there, just loosen up a bit, will you?"

I grit my teeth, hiding how much I want to speak to her mother, to get to know the pieces of her life. It sounds like an opportunity to fill the gaping hole left in my soul ever since I left Purgatory. For this reason, I loosen the wire. He slowly drives away from the bar and glances at my reflection on the side mirror.

"You're back for revenge I'm guessing," he grunts, driving onto the road.

I do not need to respond because he can see it in my face, feel it in the wire, hear it in my voice. They sent us to revel in Hell, in Purgatory, and someone must pay for my pain. It's up to him whether he pays in information or in blood.

"We do whatever gets us the most views and the most money. We release whatever our backers want to see. We ruin the reputation of people they want us to. I don't ask questions and they throw money at me. It's business, sweetheart," he explains.

"Did Cassiel kill Henley Price?"

He gnaws his lip with thought.

"Perhaps considering the way he covered it up, but I don't really know. His father's enemies definitely had a habit of disappearing. His father loved yanking my chain about what can and cannot be published. Cassiel was always quiet around him and never said anything to upset him. The kid only grew a backbone after his death."

"He must have killed her, otherwise why go through so much trouble to cover up how we died?"

"You have to beat the answer out of Cassiel. He probably was having an affair with the girl before she died and tried to cover up their connection."

"Excuse me?"

"He's a player. He screws around with w****s. One called Candy caught his interest lately."

"Even after his proposal to Ethelia?"

"He was with her this morning."

So, that's his version of 'being away doing business things' is. Breaking up his engagement is going to be easier than I thought.

"What do you know about Raguel and the guy running St. Valentine's hospital?" His eye twitches and he averts his gaze.

"I don't have much dirt on them. Although, they probably have more information about Cassiel's secret. I can look into it for you. There is a meeting for business executives in Gomorrah soon. I will see what dirt I can dig up."

He breaks under the golden glow of the street lamps in front of a simple house with a green roof and brown bricks. I can't shake the familiarity of the building. I've definitely been here before. I assume her mother is home considering the Sedan parked in the driveway.

"This should be the place," he grunts, turning off the car, "You know, I'm f*****g sick of the Lilith family. You have any idea how many deaths their war with the Sen angels have caused? Lilith should have gotten a clitoridectomy so that w***e would stop breeding—"

I pull harder on the wire to shut him up, but he yanks on it so hard, my forehead slams against the back of his seat. His elbow smashes against my cheek and he dives between the seats to get to me. He grabs me by the throat and tackles me backwards. Pain explodes in my head as I am slammed against the window. My vision spins.

"So, this is personal, huh? You're one of 'em," he concludes, pinning me against the door.

I curl my lip and head-butt him. He curses, pulling his hand back to punch me. I block and plunge my knife into his eye. He screams in pain and tries to shove me away. Warm blood spurts onto my face as I sink the knife deeper, twitching with rage I don't know how to deal with. My temper rests on a frayed wire and I feel like it close to snapping. The rage both unnerves me and feels euphotic, begging me to feed the unresolved hatred in me.

He tries yanking out the knife but his fingers tremble too violently to get a grip. I move to rip the knife out to stab him again when his eyes begin to glow white. White light travels through his veins to where the knife is. The words inscribed on its surface glow. His skin rapidly ages, wrinkling in a matter of seconds before leaving his cheeks gaunt. He stares at me with bulging eyes that fill with terror.

"f**k, I'm not healing. What the hell is this knife?" he gasps to himself, fumbling to open the car door behind him.

I slam it shut again. I think I now know what it means by 'may all your wounds be mortal.' It drains one's immortality.

"s**t, I'm sorry, alright? Please, just get it out!" he stammers, trying to find something to pull out the knife.

I lean into his face with a leer, twisting the wire around his neck. He yelps as I strangle him.

"Why should I?"

"I—I can help you," he stammers, trying to scrunch himself away from me, "Please, don't kill me. I know things you'll need to know."

"Impress me."

"They're not human! Cassiel and Raguel aren't of this world," he rasps, successfully capturing my attention.

"What are they?"

He shakes his head, struggling to breathe.

"I have no clue. I just know his father was like and his father before him and so forth. It's like his ancestor made a deal with something."

"With what?"

He begins coughing up blood.

"I don't know for certain what, but rumours say they're being possessed by angels."

I narrow my eyes. That will be a problem. I'm glad I didn't impulsively go after Cassiel yet. That's going to make things way more difficult.

"Anything else?"

"We all know Cassiel and Raguel have agreements that could destroy their reputations completely."

"Like what?"

He hesitates and I loosen the wire.

"Speak."

"Let me go and I'll talk."

"Oh? You sure you aren't going to attack me again?"

"I just don't want anyone coming after me."

I'd like to see this guy bleed out after the stunt he tried to pull. I move to grab the knife to end his suffering when an orange light catches my attention. I look through the window trying to identify where it came from. I get the paranoid feeling someone is watching me. The CEO who wheezes and coughs up blood.

With a snort, I yank out the knife and wipe the blood onto his shirt. He cries out in pain, clutching his injured eye. From the looks of it, it's already healing. Leaving it in any longer it could have drained him of his life completely. I check myself for any traces of blood, satisfied with how relatively clean I am. Pocketing my knife, I climb out of the car.

A minute after knocking on the door, an elderly woman dressed in a pink dressing gown opens the door. With tired eyes that strikingly remind me of Henley, she frowns at me. She must be Henley's mother. I can see her features in this woman's face and the sound of her voice. It catches me off guard. I blink, shaking out of my stupor.

"Sorry, do I know you?"

"You must be Henley's mother. Hello, I'm a friend of Henley from high school. I went abroad to Australia for two years. When I came back, I heard what happened. I want to know how much is true."

Her shoulders slouch and she averts her eyes. Nonetheless, she beckons me inside.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Yes please, I'm sorry for disturbing you at this hour. I just wanted to make sense of all this," I state, wandering inside.

The woman nods and ushers me to sit on a peach couch. There is no warmth in the living room, nothing welcoming and everything is dust bitten, worn, it has been a while since anyone has cleaned up.

"So, high school friends, hmm?" she repeats quietly, putting the kettle on in the kitchen, "She used to have a lot of friends then."

"Yeah, she had a memorable personality, one that really sticks with you," I murmur in discomfort, "I'm sorry for dredging up the past."

"It's ok, dear. If you were friends with her, you deserve to know what happened. Henley wasn't right in the head for one thing."

"What do you mean?"

"She was fine at the beginning of high school; beautiful, confident and full of self-esteem. She loved magic. Tarot cards, playing cards, oracle cards, she loved the way picking a card changes fate, gives people an opportunity to exploit chance. A chance to capture free-will, she called it, to choose. I don't know what happened, but she became depressed, told us she tried to find the purpose of her life in the cards and found none. Me and my husband didn't understand it, or the craving in her heart for purpose. We don't know why she ended up lost. We did everything for her. We gave her a roof over her head, food in her stomach, clothes on her back. I don't understand why she said she was sad. It hurt us to hear it."

"She moved out of home early," I note, remembering the second dream I had about Henley.

She was adamant that she wouldn't go back to this place and I see why. Her mother doesn't understand her at all.

"Her and her father were always at each other's throats a lot. He demanded she would stop her occult practises, that she would end up in Hell, so one day, she decided to move out."

I get the feeling there is more to the story, but I don't push it. I already had to deal with Morgana crying on my shoulder. I don't want to deal with a sobbing old lady I barely know.

"It sounds like it was a tough situation."

"The doctor said she had a lot of mental health issues, depression, anxiety, and schizophrenia."

"Schizophrenia?"

"It developed after you would have moved to Australia. An incident happened and she kept calling out to some invisible force, a demon. It must have drawn her to kill that man and herself and injure all those people with that fire. She was freaking insane."

She sounds frustrated now, standing up and walking over to the kitchen. She begins to aggressively clean dishes with her back to me. Her words feel like a blow to my chest. I guess the assumption is demons are the root of all evil, that we bring humans to ruin, but so could anyone else. The assumption I caused her downfall hurts me deeply but I keep my face stoic.

I walk over to the family pictures hanging on the wall. There are photos of her family up to when Henley turned fourteen. They include typical moments such as birthdays, holidays, and school photos. All look happy in these pictures, aside from the one when Henley is five and appears to have dropped her cake on the floor.

"Her father took the news the hardest," she continues after a moment of silence, "Couldn't handle the thought of our little girl turning out this way. He had a lot of regrets. Maybe if he paid more attention, maybe if he treated her much better or tried to understand her, none of this would have happened. That's what he used to say."

"Do you really believe Henley started the fire?"

"That's what the news said," she answers.

"I'm not asking what the news said."

"I'd like to believe she didn't... My husband and I both harbour the same regrets. I just have to live with mine."

I wince at her words and the way tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.

"I haven't moved any of her stuff. You can pay your respects to her in her room if you would like but I won't be joining you."

"I understand," I murmur, turning to the hallway she speaks of.

I debate whether I should look in Henley's old room, whether I would be grateful to know a bit more about her or if the memory of us will leave me with heartburn. I drift down the hall but only examine the room from her doorway. The woman wasn't kidding when she said she left the room untouched. Childhood toys clutter the room including an impressive dinosaur collection on her dresser along with tarot cards. Comic book curtains cover the window above her double bed. It's a typical teenage room for a mortal and I wonder if her ghost lingers here. I wonder if I call her name, she will hear me.

I recover brief memories of being here where, at the age of twenty, she sat on her bed. In the memory, she looks shaken by my presence but manages a smile. She explains what dinosaurs are and points out which is which from her collection. She's a brontosaurus kind of woman.

I get the feeling Henley didn't think her parents cared about her. If only Henley was here to see how much her mother is affected by her death. It's too painful for the woman to pack away her stuff, after all. The sight leaves an odd ache in my chest. I wonder if Ascanius left my room untouched also. I take my phone from my pocket.

Ascanius 12:15:

I'm here for you. Please let me know you're alright.

Caving into the pain haunting me, I passed through Henley's bathroom mirror and found myself in my old bedroom. My chest clenches at the familiarity of it all. f**k, everything looks so dusty now, yet, everything is the way I remember leaving it. Two years and he still hadn't gotten rid of my stuff. I wander off to the window, opening the curtains.

Unlike Vanitas' place, Ascanius' house is in a calmer, residential location near a cliff overlooking a primordial ocean, Tehom. The water gleams like crystals under the starry sky. As inviting the water seems, I never dared to even dip my toe in it. Some say that the gleaming of the water is the souls who were too damaged to move on from the pain of their life, so they remain like broken shards that rest in the water. I wonder if I would have ended up there if I stayed in Purgatory any longer.

"Invidian? Is that you?"

I stiffen at the familiar voice coming from behind me. I tense when I meet Ascanius' eyes. His red and black eyes swirl with emotion. I tense, looking up at him. From the height I am now, he towers over me. It makes me feel like a teenager again.

He doesn't look any different from when I last saw him, even though it has been two years. It seems like it was almost yesterday since he was taking me around all parts of the human realm, showing me different people and deals people would make in exchange for their time, or when he would lecture me for holing myself up in my room for long periods of time or when he would get on my case when I would move his stuff to mess with him. I blink a few times, feeling my eyes sting. s**t, I miss it all too much. I fold and rush up to him. He immediately lifts me off the ground and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Welcome back," his voice wobbles before he buries his face in my hair, "We thought you were lost in Purgatory. We had no idea how you died, but one day you went missing. Vanitas gave me a brief rundown about what's happening but I'm still not sure."

His voice cracks a little, despite that he manages to keep an even tone. I slam my eyes shut and refuse to answer.

"Why didn't you come to me?" he murmurs softly, "Why are you avoiding me? Don't you know that I'm on your side?"

"I want to know what happened. I want to know how I died, how Henley died, then I want the people who took our lives to pay," I responded tightly.

He becomes rigid before letting me down.

"Vanitas told me what he said to you. He only said that because there are parts of himself he wished he could avenge," Ascanius says after a while, "And I want you to consider this; the creature you made a deal with is obviously withholding information. He probably has an ulterior motive to make you go after your killers. He probably wants them dead and wants you to go after them so if you get caught, it would be traced back to you, not him."

He doesn't need to tell me that. It's clear that I'm being manipulated on some level but I know Cassiel is involved in Henley's death and he's hiding something. Something I'm going to shake out of him, even if it means shaking the gods out of the heavens. I will have retribution.

"So, what? You prefer me to just stand around, assume I'm wrong about everything and do nothing."

"Sometimes inaction is the best course of action."

Even though he's used to death, he loathes violence. Even more than that he hates the concept of revenge.

"I only have a month to figure this s**t out. I need to act."

"No, you don't. We can tell the rest of our siblings and figure out a way to let you stay here."

"And if you can't, what then?" I argue, "I can never get this opportunity back."

"Believe in us. We'll figure this out."

"Just like you figured out how I actually died?" I snap before I can help myself.

I immediately regret that because Ascanius' face falls as if I b***h slapped him with a bucket load of guilt. It wasn't the point I wanted to make. I wanted to say that I can't rely on them. Not because I don't trust them to help me but because I can't have them fixing my messes for me. This stranger is powerful and I think he doesn't like anyone helping me out, which is why he tried to get Davian out of the picture, but my mouth doesn't want to cooperate with me.

"Invidian, revenge isn't going to help you. Holding onto that anger is poisonous. You end up losing more than what was taken away from you."

It has been a year since Henley's death, and she has not received justice in any sense of the word. Am I meant to sit around and let 'karma' give them what they deserve? Why would I do that when I can be karma?

I open my mouth to refute that when a loud crash disrupts us. A couch gets thrown out a window. Someone flings out a bunch of colourful fire magic out the window which destroys the couch, sending pieces of it into the water. A chorus of cheering explodes from somewhere in the house. Ascanius stalks over to the window before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I love our family but no one has any idea how to respect private property."

"Are you holding a party?"

"Lilu decided to throw one at my house because he wanted Davian to have a proper welcome. He seems like a nice boy though. Are you close?"

"We're not," I deny, folding my arms.

"You're going through quite a bit of effort to help him. Even saved his life," he points out as if fishing for something more than surface emotions.

Something he won't find. I don't have room in my life to give a s**t about anyone else. Things are too complicated as it is. We snap around when the door swings open, letting in a blast of metal mixed with middle eastern music I remember Lilu being addicted to. Speaking of the devil, he stumbles in, laughing to himself. He slumps against the door with disorientated swaying.

"Hey, Assssscanny. I like was totally not responsible or anything but, I think someone exploded your couch," he drawls, almost slipping off the door.

My lips twitch, tempted to laugh. I missed Lilu's drunkenness. Ascanius sighs in exasperation, shooting me a look as if to say we'll continue the conversation later.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he deadpans.

Lilu batters his eyes innocently.

"What? No. I'm a father of," he begins to count on his fingers but gives up, "Of some number of children. I'm a responsible adult. You're also out of ice cream."

"I never had any."

"s**t, what did I eat then?" he mutters, looking mindfucked by that piece of information.

Lilu looks over at me, sobering a little. I tense a little, wondering if he recognises me by just looking at me. He gives us a forced smile.

"Ascanius, I love and respect you and I don't mind if you want to get with someone but not in this room, ok?" he says tightly.

I relax a little. He doesn't recognise me, but I don't miss the sorrow in his eyes when he talks about this room.

"Nothing of the sort is happening here."

"For the sake of your balls, you better be telling the truth. I'm not letting you soil this room with you and some hussy. No offence, kid."

Both Ascanius and I grimace.

"Nothing is happening here," he assures Lilu, beginning to guide him out of the room, "In fact, we have something to tell you once you sleep off whatever you drank."

I shoot Ascanius a glare which he swiftly brushes off. Lilu pouts at him.

"What? No, tell me now. Your Elvis collection will be next if you don't tell me."

"So, it was you that killed my couch."

"Pfft, I fessed up to nothing," he snorts, walking out of the room.

Ascanius runs a hand through his hair before looking back at me.

"Sleepover, I want to talk to you in the morning."

"It's my mess, Ascanius. I need to deal with it."

"If you leave before we get to talk, I will go to wherever you're staying and mess up your plans of revenge," he warns me.

I grit my teeth and send him a smouldering glare. He seems satisfied with that before walking out of the room. After they leave, I stand in my room, not sure what to do so I stare at my former room in the dark. The longer I stare, the more I begin to hate this cold and empty room. I hate the pain in Lilu's eyes when he walked in this room. I hate the way Ascanius refuses to touch a thing in here. This room holds way too much power over everyone. But why? There's nothing but useless crap in here. There is a tasteless chest of drawers and a double bed that speak of who I was as a person. And curtains I rip off its hinges with a bitter laugh. None of this crap should be sentimental enough to keep. These useless objects shouldn't mean much, yet it holds such a weight on my family. After I rip the curtains down, I can't stop. I don't want any part of myself to remain here. The Invidian who owned this room is dead. It should have been destroyed with him.

Why couldn't they have moved on by now? I want to torch it in flames and watch the memories here fade into ash. I wonder if they suffered like Henley's mother did. I wonder if they avoid recalling my name like the plague because I never wanted that. I've seen that happen with Lilu and his children. I've seen that happen with my brother, Eden. His mind built its own world to escape his past, to forget that his lover is dead.

I let them down. I should have been strong enough to control whatever caused me to die. To keep everything from becoming this f****d up. I'm a goddamn cambion for Christ sakes. My powers are the equal to any demigod. Yet, Herakles could endure the twelve labours. Achilles fought wars. They must have gone through s**t a lot worse than me and they toughed it out for the most part. I have no excuse. I was too weak to save myself, to save Henley and as a result, my death has become another scar on this family, and Henley's death a scar on her mother's existence.

I kick over the wardrobe and stomp on its back. Its wooden back splinters and cracks, giving way to the drawers inside. I pick one of them up and throw it across the room. It slams against the wall and collapses to the floor. Clothes that no longer fit me sprawls onto the floor. I pick up another, watching as random crap tumbles onto the unbroken part of the drawers. I toss the shelf aside and pick up some iPod I don't remember having. I scan it before another memory crawls back to the surface.

It belonged to Henley.

"You should try listening to music. Songs are a way of self-expression. Helps you understand how you feel. Try listening to what I downloaded there. If you don't like it then we'll find something else," she told me with a goofy grin.

A grin I will never see again. I clench the iPod, torn between throwing it to the ground or clutching it. I never told her I loved every song she put on there, that I listened to them for hours.

"Make me a promise when you remember me. Please don't let time erase us."

I raked my hand through my hair, unable to keep the pain from piercing my chest. It gets difficult to breathe. I eye the water outside, watching as the shimmer under the night sky. I wonder if jumping into the water will bring an end to this—if it will be a kinder fate than suffering in Purgatory.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hear Davian snap, tearing me back from the drawer I go to kick, "This is enough! Ascanius and Lilu's little brother died. This room belonged to him. How dare you destroy it!"

He somehow slammed it so hard it's almost off its hinges. It's a wonder I didn't hear him earlier, but then again, I can barely think straight. Davian doesn't look any better. His dark hair scrunches up in different directions and his face is tomato red from either drinking or dancing or both. Lilu definitely made him do shots. What's more random is the Totoro Doll tucked under his arm. Did he kidnap that from Ascanius' hoarding room?

"Don't be selfish. Think about how they will feel to see this room trashed like this." I look at the mess my room is now.

"They should think it's perfect. It matches exactly the guy their brother is," I hiss with a vehemence which takes him aback.

"This is what they have left of their brother! Or are you used to ruining so many lives you don't realise the impact s**t like this has?!"

"Bringing up your situation again, huh? Well, f**k you! You're safe, you're free right now and I'm helping you even though I don't have to! Once your name is clear, why the f**k would you care if they think you're a criminal? They hated you in the first place!" I snap at him before I can stop myself.

"That's not the point and you know it!"

"You can get stronger. You have the potential to. You're one of the most powerful creatures in existence. You have the potential to become strong enough to support yourself. You wouldn't need to hope for your sorry excuse of a family to help you. You are capable, but you're holding yourself back."

He is stunned into silence. I catch my breath and decide to drop the iPod onto the bed. I will regret breaking that.

"f**k you, if I could trade places with you, I would do it in a heartbeat. I've seen people go through far worse. I've seen people lose their families in massacres, been tortured and been literally stabbed in the back by people they were closest to, but by far you've been the whiniest b***h out of all them," I hiss in his face, beginning to storm past him.

He catches my arm before I can.

"Don't walk away. You can't just say all that stuff and not tell me what you mean."

"Don't f*****g touch me!" I snap when he decides to grab my shoulders, pulling away sharply.

So sharp that I end up tripping back on the broken drawers. I roll onto my side, laughing at myself at how pathetic I must look right now. He holds his hands up in defence and lowers himself.

"You're cutting yourself on broken wood and splintering yourself. Look, you're bleeding. Let me get the splinters out."

"Good, let me bleed, f*****g dirty lobster," I shout, swatting his hands away.

"What is up with you demons and not having any manners? Ascanius is the only one who has shown me some decency."

"Says you f*****g k********g his stuffed toys."

"Hey, I'm saving Totoro from the psycho demons downstairs. They make s*x-expos look like church, that's for sure." He shudders as if he has seen things no one should ever see.

To be fair, he probably has. They are incubi, succubi and demigods after all.

I climb to my feet, hissing when I feel my arms and legs stinging. The wood sliced up my skin, leaving a series of annoying cuts. I yank out one of the big pieces in my arm with a curse. Davian watches me with concern.

"Does your tantrum have to do with what you wanted to forget that night?" he asks, his expression softening to my surprise.

His concern douses my anger completely. I tighten my jaw, not wanting to reveal what I'm thinking to him or what I am feeling and why. He already got too close before I got vulnerable and made-out with him.

"Ok, I get it. I haven't been too appreciative about you saving my life. I know you weren't the one who terrorized my life and to be frank, I did involve myself in yours. I could have stayed away, and I didn't. I'm sorry," he apologises.

I wrinkle my nose at him not believing his apology for a second.

"Probably wouldn't have happened if I possessed Virgil's body."

"Yeah, well, blaming you isn't going to change anything. You're helping me now and that's the main thing," he assures me, kicking away the big pieces of wood away from our feet. He rises up to me, assessing the damage.

"You can't get all those splinters out by yourself. Let me help you get them out."

There is something odd about the way he says that almost as if he is talking about more than the wood in my skin. Or perhaps, that's just my head reading too much into his words. My way of trying to find hope in nothing because really, my situation is hopeless. I walk off to my bed, picking out some of the pieces. He watches me with furrowed brows and flicks on the light. I manage to get out most of the pieces. With a sigh and turn to him, admitting defeat.

Some pieces are too hard to get out myself.