Okay, this is my first TFiOS fic and my first songfic. I hope you like it! I don't own the characters or the song-but you should go listen to the song while you read this. "The Lonely" by Christina Perri.

The nubs in my oxygen tubes tickled my nose as I breathed deeply-in, and out. In, and out. A part of me-a large part of me-wanted more than anything to stop. To stop breathing. To stop going on. But I knew better. People had assured me that the pain would dull over time. People were very wrong. My ten stayed with me, and as far as I could tell, it always would. Though of course, maybe I just hadn't given it enough time to dull. I wish it would freakin' hurry up and dull, because I'm really getting sick of it.

My bedroom was empty. I honestly didn't know if I preferred it this way or not. I'm not too sure what I prefer anymore, to be honest. I hated company, but I hated being alone. I hated talking, but I hated shutting up too.

The silence around me was deafening, though the music in my head was just as bad. No matter what else I listened to, one song always played in the back of my mind, as if it were on an endless reply. Pre-Augustus' death, I loved the song. Now, Post-AD... It fit me. And that's why I despised it.

I'm the ghost, of a girl, that I want, to be most,

I'm the shell, of a girl, that I used, to know we-e-ell...

The first two lines of the chorus already defined me.

Dancing slowly in an e-empty ro-om,

Ca-an the lonely take the place, of yo-ou?

I sing myself a quiet, lul-la-by,

Le-et you go and let the lonely in,

To take my heart again...

I felt tears drizzle slowly from the corners of my eyes. I wanted to go find something to distract me, but at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to curl up around myself and never move. The weight of my heart was enough to make anyone feel that way.

Broken, pieces, of...

A barely, breathing, sto-o-ory,

Where, there, once, was, lo-ove,

Now there's on-ly me...

And the lo-o-ne-ly

I could blare any music as loudly as I wanted to-anything, and believe me, I had tried it all. But no matter what I heard, this song stuck with me tight as I lay in Gus' old Butler basketball T-shirt. Over the haunting Christia Perri song, however, something always sounded.

"Okay?"

Over and over, I heard this one little word. This small word that meant so little to anyone else, yet broke my heart every time it was spoken. I couldn't escape it. Okay? Okay. Okay? Okay.

"No," I whispered, the tears strolling down my face. "Not okay."