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weren’t we birds of a feather
Adrian stared at the tv.
"In other news, multi-millionaire, Harrison Hades was found dead in his room. Sources say it's from the disease that has become a pandemic, though he was never tested."
Adrian blinked. Ophelia walked out of the bedroom.
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Hey Little Songbird hey little songbird, let me guess
Hades went to work the next morning, as if nothing happened. People brought him food, and letters, and cards and many words of sorrow.He still hadn't felt anything about his fathers death. It was just a fact now. His father, was dead.That was it. Ophelia went to work. That was what was on his mind. He didn't re
Hey Little Songbird he’s some kind of poet
Ophelia watched as Hades paced on the phone multiple times."No, I'm not sure when it occurred. My fiancée and I just got home and it's in ashes." He sighed.Ophelia sighed, making Hades pause and come over to inspect her. He looked her over.
Hey Little Songbird and he’s penniless give him your hand
What good is it? I've gone to hell, but my blood is in your veins. Can you really be happy? As long as you're alive, I live on—Hades opened his eyes. "My father is a pedophile," he whispered.Ophelia turned over, half asleep. "Huh?"
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Adrian glanced over at her. "Tell me you're joking? That I'm seeing things?"Ophelia smiled, saying nothing."Ophelia, I—thank you."
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Adrian blinked. The light was so bright. He looked over. Where on earth was she?"Ophelia?" He called. "Opie, are you here?"They agreed they'd both take some time off work, so where else could she be?
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Adrian sighed. They'd taken the company jet to Detroit, and had went straight to the Vitale Estate. Adrian was hesitant."Are we sure this is the best route?""We can trust Grim," She assured him. "And anyone get didn't eliminate must be very strong."
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"You should start learning Italian," Adrian whispered, his eyes on hers.Ophelia smiles. "What about you?""I already know Italian. Italian, German, Japanese, Mandarin, and a few others."
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Adrian looked up in the dark. Why hadn't he said anything. Why he hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't he stopped her?He sighed. What should he do?His head pulsed. "I think..." he whispered aloud, "I think I'm angry."
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- Hey Little Songbird hey little songbird
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- Hey Little Songbird he’ll write you a poem when the power is out
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