re-up because aff ate the chapter, so i decided to edit 17 and 18 

This was a tragic story.

Where: a town where the rich and poor lived side by side in hatred disguised by harmony.

When: an era where the people were told of chances to succeed but not of the dangers to their morals and humanity.

Who: Xing'er, a boy killed by the adult world; Xing, a boy killed by the vengeance; Lay, a boy killed by the greed and power. Zhang Yixing, a boy killed by his own hands.

Why: we can blame Zhang Yixing for holding on to the wrong things, for trusting the ones who would stab him in the back, for suspecting the ones who looked after him, for abandoning the ones who would sacrifice their all for him. We can blame humanity for the blinding thirst for revenge, for the willingness to twist ourselves out of shape, for the ability to do such evils.

But in the end, no one is the perpetrator and no one is the victim. Everyone is both the perpetrator and the victim. You commit atrocities and others try to destroy you. What decides how you are remembered is which side of the swing you die on.

The story isn’t black and white. Being gray means it isn’t evil enough to be black, nor are the characters innocent enough to be white. When white dirties, it becomes black. When black fades, it becomes white. Who knows which end of the spectrum we are at?

And why is black evil and why is white noble? Everything bad is good for another. Everything better means worse for others.

If we had the chance to do it all over again, what would we do differently? Would we try to change? Or maybe, the better question is: can we even change?

You may not believe in fate and destiny. But sometimes, you think you have found another path. And yet your feet land on the well-trodden road, worn from all your ghosts who have unwittingly made the same mistake. Over and over and over and over.

No matter what happens, it’s hard to alter our primitive nature. Our tired souls cry out, pleading for absolvent, but life goes on.

Life is internecine.

Some of us live. All of us die.

For what?

At the end, all the hearts broken, trusts shattered and blood shed mean nothing. All that you are left with are corpses and souls who need answers.

Lay collapsed onto his knees.

The newspapers fluttered to the ground.

Disintegrated into ashes.

~ ~ ~

Suho wandered through the empty mansion.

He was alone now.

As a prison guard, he knew he shouldn't have become so close to the ones on death row, asking them questions, asking about their lives, supplying them with the tools necessary for taking their own lives.

Their ghosts haunted him. Even as they passed on, they still lived on inside his mind. Their unresolved matters became his own, tying him down. They never went contently; sometimes answers weren't enough for closure, sometimes they only created new questions, but the chance to ask again was already gone.

He glanced at the projector—the number one flickering and fading against the wall.

Maybe that was why he was still here.

"Game over. You didn't pass on. Would you like to try again?"

i had a very long a/n thanking everyonge before, but now i'm a little pissed that aff ate my chapter

so i'll write a heartfelt message for the explanation chapter aufeiadgiagdsfjv