Yes, I know that I—an educated twenty-one-year-old man—shouldn’t be afraid of a tiny Yorkshire terrier. But here we are, with this tiny, yappy dog literally crapping all over my life.

Medusa. Of course; this is why I couldn’t kill her earlier.

A grin spreads across my face. This is more like it.

Apollo, Hades, and I had been the last ones left. And now, even they’re gone.

Of all the ways I thought I’d die, I never once imagined that it would be from being hit on the head by a brick.