OLA! I am Aimee, and this fanfiction you are reading as of currently is Ready, Aimee, Fire! Because in this fic, I am doing a plot line with my name in it, but the OC is not like me. So yeah.

SO, there are agazillion fics about this already, but I want to do this, so leave me alone! :P Don't like, don't read. Sounds annoying, but it's true.

DISCLAIMER: Yo mamma!

THIS CHAPTER IS THE PRELUDE! IT EXPLAINS THE CHARACTER! NEXT CHAPTER IS WHERE THE REAL STORY IS!

Aimee's POV, Reaccounting her life's past events...

Hey, I'm Aimee.

I am 19 years old, and I come from a family of 3. My crazy over-protective dad, my genius 23 year old brother, and then there's me.

Just Aimee.

I like to thing myself relatively normal, though my brother would beg to differ. He says I'm weird, what with my obsession of the Beatles, but I just sock him in the head and he shuts up.

Anyways, I live in America. Not even in a really cool place like LA or New York City or Phili or anything. I live in some random Pennsylvanian town where no one knows the name of it. Our town is really small, and if you blink, you miss it. It's not anything nice. It's actually kind of broke down. But, never the less, we are pretty much the richest people in town. My dad is a big shot producer type person. I know you're probably thinking, 'Why this place if he's rich?'

Because this is where he met my mother.

Last year, my mom went to the grocery store. She was going the speed limit. She was stopping at stop signs. She was rounding corners carefully. Somehow, she didn't see this big truck with a drunk driver and got hit on her side of the car, knocking her unconcious.

So, the guy gets out and staggers over to her. When he sees her, he thinks she's dead and decides then to pull out a gun and shoot himself in the head, going clean to his brain.

How do I know this, you ask?

Because I was there.

I was in the back seat of my mothers car, and witnessed the death of two people, one was the person who had given birth to me.

I was traumatized when I saw the gashes in my mother from where the metal of the car had come in contact with her already fragile skin. I had never seen her like this before- So weak, unmoving. My mother was always moving, always doing something. She was never one to just sit there and be lazy. She had ADHD, but she didn't show it, because she was always directing her energy to helping others. She always said being wealthy meant giving to the poor and needy.

So you can imagine the hatred I already held for this guy that just made my mother this way. But then, when he got out of his vehicle and walked to my mom's side of the car, I wasn't feeling hatred. I wasn't feeling anger. I wasn't feeling pity, for sure. No, what I was feeling right then I'll never forget. I felt genuinely scared.

Then the guy pulled out the gun, and I thought my life was going to end right there. But no. The guy shot himself.

He shot himself.

I was now feeling alot of different emotions, that I don't care to recall. I was, more than anything, feeling completely alone. My mother, my only source of protection, was unconcious. And the guy who had made her that way killed himself. I was alone.

That is, until the police came.

The police pried the car door open with the jaws of life and eased me out of the car. They didn't say anything. I didn't say anything. No one needed to. The situation was so much for me, and I was feeling so many emotions, my body shut down.

I didn't eat, sleep, drink, walk or even speak for the next few days. How could I? I was so traumatized. The only thing that kept me from dying, was my mother. I had to know she was safe. I had to know she was alive. I had to.

My father tried to be there for me as much as he could, but from what I've been told, my brother, Rilee, was the one that stayed with me most.

Then, after a week of my mother being on life support, and 3 days after my eating regulated and I joined planet earth again, the doctors gave my dad a choice.

Pull the plug, or she will be in a coma for the rest of her life.

Dad, Rilee, and I held a family meeting. I knew my mother wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want to just be lying there. She would much rather be doing something, ANYTHING, in heaven.

So, that night, we gathered in the hospital room my mother was staying in and said our goodbyes. I could go into detail about what all we said, but that would be uneccessary. The emotion was really all that was speaking.

My dad walked up to her and kissed her forehead. He didn't go into a speech. He just simply said 'bye'.

Rilee's famous O'Hare temper was rising, I could tell. He didn't show it much, though. He glanced over at me and saw how I was staring at my mothers beautiful face, and closed his eyes. He tried to blink back tears as he walked over to our mother and hugged her frail body. He whispered something and then backed away.

It was my turn.

How do you thank someone for always being there? How do you express your love for someone who isn't awake to hear your words? How do you tell someone goodbye who's already out the door?

You can't, really. You kind of just have to pray to God that they'll somehow hear you. So I did.

I walked up to her, and took her hand and pressed her palm against my face, wishing she was concious so she could stroke my messy hair back. But she wasn't. So, I mustered up the courage and said one simple word.

"Bye."

I didn't cry. I didn't smile. I didn't do anything. I just sat there, pressing her palm against my cold cheek.

A nurse walked in, but I didn't notice. I faintly felt my brother pull me away and pick me up, walking to the car and buckling me in like a baby. I knew we were driving home, but I didn't feel anything.

I don't remember how I ended up in my bed, but I was there. And I was having a nightmare. Everything that happened to my mother, happened in my dream. I could see the blood, I could see the reflection of the sun on the windowshield as the drunken driver pulled out into the small car. I heard the gun shot...

I woke up screaming, and Rilee came into my room, taking me into his bed and tucking me in.

I realized as I was lying there, my mother wouldn't want me being like this. She would want me to be happy.

And if my mom wanted me to do something, I was going to do it. And this was no exception.

I could never forget my mom. But I could move on with my life.

And I went to sleep, my brother sitting on the bed beside me, rubbing my back comfortingly.

"I let go," I whispered into the darkness.

"What?" My brother asked, confused.

"I let go... I'm not going to hold onto this hurt I have anymore, Riles... I'm letting go of this grudge."

Rilee said nothing, instead leaning over to hug me and whisper good night.

I closed my eyes and gave way to the darkness.

Current time, Aimee's POV

I woke up to the sound of my brother banging on something in his 'lab' in the basement. We had just finished moving from our old house in West Virginia, where my mom died, to Pennsylvania.

I groaned and shoved a pillow over my head to block out the banging.

To no avvail, however.

So, I got up and walked down to the basement, still in my short plaid shorts and 'Canada, eh!' sweatshirt. I entered into the basement and rubbed my eyes to rid them from the sleep.

"Riles, really? This early?" I rambled on a bit more before I noticed he was doing jazz hands at this telephone-booth type thing. "Riles...?"

"It's a teleportation device!" He said excitedly. He then began to flip through some switches. "Now, when the zombie apocolypse occurs, I can escape death by this baby!"

I shook my head. "First, that's impossible. Second, were you watching I Am Legend again?"

He dropped his head.

"That's what I thought." I sighed. "Dude, dad told you not to watch that, because you go on invention sprees on how you could possibly save the world." I crossed the basement over to a rack with several gadgets on it. "Shall we refer to the rack of shame, perhaps? Let's begin with the zomblaster." I picked up a large gun-looking thing. "A shot to the head with this thing, you'll be zombie free, guaranteed!" I smiled a cheesy newscaster smile and then frowned, setting the gun back on the shelf. "Now, how about the-"

"Okay! I get it!" He yelled, grumbling something under his breath. "Will Smith just did a really fantastic job in that movie. Honestly, he made it so real!"

I sighed. "Willl Smith was really good in that movie, I'll admit." We stood there, both reminiscing in the amazing skills of Will Smith. "Anyways, this thing probably doesn't even work."

"Yes, it does."

"Not." I finished, smirking.

"Yes, it does!"

"Not!" I put my hands on my hips stubbornly.

He contemplated arguing with me, but then gave me a smug smile. I hated those smiles. They were the smiles he always had when he realized it was his turn for the toy in the cereal box, or his turn to sit up front, or his turn to pick what tv show to watch next. Or when he graduated college...

"What?"

He shrugged, still wearing his smile. "Why don't you try it, then? If you're so sure it doesn't work, get in there and try it."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're on."

He gave me a smirk and then opened the door. "What year?"

I thought for a moment before getting an idea. "1964."

"Why?"

"Dur, the Beatles."

He rolled his eyes and then typed in the number. He then cranked the machine and kicked it with his foot. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, still unconvinced.

That is, until I felt an earthquake.

I felt myself shaking and lurching from one side of the booth to the other. I tripped on a cord on the floor and fell, bashing my head on the side of the booth as I went. That's all I remember before I blacked out.

OOHHHHH, CLIFFEH! WHAT?

Okay. Next chapter will be better. Most of you were probably bored reading this, but this was neccessary for the story, you know, seeing what kind of life Aimee has had in the past. Gosh, it feels weird calling her Aimee when MY NAME is Aimee, too... Oh, well.

PEACE, HOMEYS!

Loves,

Aims