Chapter One
Albino Walls

A consistent and frequent beeping filled the silence of the room, corrupting it, ricocheting from each, blinding white curtain and wall. The sharp and yet at the same time, faint intonation was emitting from a small monitor resided in the middle of the near empty room, beside a single twin, occupied, bed in which was secured upon the wall albeit propping and holding itself upon slick obsidian tires. A single window elicited the feeble light of the moon beyond, cracked open gently as to whisk in fresh air, the rain and rumbles of earth shattering, boisterous claps of thunder perfectly and painfully loud. The sounds, the scenery in itself was rather depressing – at glance the imagery could clearly decline one's mood, and it's occupant within the private latitude would not bother to object.

Outside of the room was very much the same as far as scorn had went; the rushing of footsteps and the voices shouted in blurry, in-comprehendible phrases and demands, moans and groans of pain all added up into one. It was a bitter scene to picture, experiencing it firsthand one could only imagine, and was no better. Perhaps it had been worse. There was no gentle, reassuring voices, no easy-going conversations – just emptiness, an obsidian abyss of horrific scenarios that otherwise would have brought pleasure to sadistic human beings; persons much like herself. Or rather, what had been. Doubtless, where this particular incumbent resided within the walls of Los Angeles Medical Hospital Over-Night section.

The lack of any humane interactions within the room only shielded from the hallway by towering curtains, was enough to drive anyone mental. Occasionally a doctor or two would enter the room, clipboard and pen in hand, ask a question and desert this particular occupant, someone whom others might have been rather afraid of. It was not enough; a draconian, ludicrous ostracism she was forced to endure, no matter how maligned her protests. She had not been able to wear, nor see her own accoutrements in quite some time, guest sojourn's were frequent yet pulled short – the longest she had seen someone was a little bit over two hours, in a matter of one weeks time. One would presume her to be out by now, released to live the rest of her life now that she was no longer in need of intensive care (in her opinion), however once she had she found herself back in this same bed four days later, right after the conjoined funerals, for doubtful reasons any person would shiver, or pity her for doing.

Jadelyn August West, not even a day after Caterina Valentine's and Brent Shepherd's wake and funeral, had attempted to kill herself. and hadn't it been for Beckett Oliver, boyfriend of just over two years, she would have succeeded. Life she had learned, the hard way it seemed, like always, was merciless. To take the lives of those dearest to her, make her suffer through weeks of immediate treatment due to her illness, which she had later discovered as type four (of course, the worst type) Malaria, and fever almost so high, had rescue not come when it had, no doubt she would be enduring some certain, or rather sort, of brain damage that could very well, essentially kill her. However she hadn't been that lucky and was instantly taken to the emergency room upon landing in Los Angeles, to engrossed in horrid thoughts to care.

Still, after plenty of days, a week to be exact, she could not wrap her mind around the fact that Cat and Brent were gone, and the fact that with her own hands she had murdered someone. It was a horrid thing to think, that two people so young and full of life, one hadn't even made it to their senior year in High school yet, the other, just in college, had been tragically taken away from the world. One being her best friend, her sister, and the other being her stepbrother. Yes, in return someone not as innocent and as deserving of life as the two other teenagers had been killed, and most hopefully in Hell as she lay here, but that did not disregard the fact that she had taken someone's life with only a blade and a swift push.

And, no matter how much they had persisted and pried at her, attempting to take her belongings and put them someone safe, where she could focus on getting her mental status better, no doctor could get her to release the crumpled piece of lined paper she had kept in her pocket; and when it wasn't in her pocket, it was in her palms, or somewhere she could feel it. Jade would, no matter the circumstance, never give Cat's letter up if it had killed her – which was something she so badly wanted to happen, even if that had meant leaving Beck, who deserved someone better than her own, bitter self. The bond between she and the redhead had been too great for her to give up on, and watching her lowered six feet beneath the ground, to where Jade could never see her again, were the seams of that friendship tearing.

Evidently, the same thing had gone with Brent. If she had one of his belongings, or something specifically given to her at the time before his death, she would have it close to her as well. She couldn't help but think of how cruel she had been to him that very night when they had made their way to rescue Beck and Cat from the campsite in which Trina and that guard boy with the acne and greasy hair she had threatened to kill, something she had learned not too long ago, had burned down.

"Ms. West?" A feeble voice came from the doorway, and with little energy she pried her gaze from observing the rain and to the nurse standing before her. "Your mother is here to see you."

"Tell her to go away." Jade mumbled in response, shaking her head and turning away once again – she knew her stepmother would come at such an hour; she had visited plenty of times in the past demanding to know what happened to Brent, but had not once asked how she was doing, nor holding up. It didn't seem to matter to her that her stepdaughter, now the only child in their family, had attempted to kill herself with deep gashes sliced across her wrists and burn blisters accompanying them.

"She said it was very urgent for her to speak to you," Said the nurse in a firm tone, nearly sounding as annoyed as Jade; which was something not so surprising. All the nurses in the Los Angeles Medical Center had some sort of issue with each and every single one of their patients, whether they be on their death bed or whether they were not; for whatever reason this was, no one was quite aware of.

"Whatever, but I want her gone in ten minutes." She replied with a glare, leaning further into the pillows of her makeshift hospital bed, which was by no means comfortable. Jade's voice was monotonous, even more so than it ever was, and she had felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was no anger beneath her common, natural glare. Nothing. It was as if the death of Brent and Cat had pulled at the very last of her emotions, making her become a shell even to the man that she had loved. Lifelessly she stared at the wall, wishing to be exactly that, lifeless, and did not notice when her step mother had walked into her hospital wing, as quiet as a mouse regardless of the clicking of her heels.

Problem was, this was not her stepmother.

"Mom?" Jade inquired, baffled, as she stared at the tall figure that eerily resembled her – she knew the outline of the face, the rangy brunette hair cascading in heavy, graying curls down her shoulders and the figure of her body. Her mother had looked exactly the same as she had six years ago, despite the ashen tint to her fringe.

"Yeah," said Mrs. West with a sheepish smile as she approached the side of her bed, grabbing hold of her daughters pale hand with one of her own, bony appendages. "Yeah, it's me Jadey. I'm here."

"How-Why are you here? I haven't seen you in ten eff-ing years!" She blanched incredulously, though did not pull her hand from her mother's.

"I moved away to New Jersey when your father and I got the divorce. He just called me, Stephan did, a couple days ago telling me what happened. I hadn't heard about the crash until a week ago, when you all got back, but the quickest plane here was just this morning." Mrs. West explained as she sat into the chair beside her, hand squeezing hers. "I hate to turn up out of the blue, but I…"

"So the only time you'd want to so much come in contact with me, is when something like this happens?" She questioned with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, feeling for the first time in weeks, a familiar fury.

"Jade, whenever I tried your father stopped me from doing so. It was out of my hands," she sighed and slumped her shoulders.

"Well that's when you tell him to stop ordering you around because you're not his wife anymore or either call me personally. I'm sure you can find out my number." Snapped Jade, nearly tearing her hand from her mother's. "It's been ten years and not once have I talked to you. You make me put up with my stepmother who's exactly like dad in so many disgusting ways and –"

"How is Madeline by the way?" The older woman interrupted. "And her son?"

"Brent passed away," her voice lowered octaves considerably and her throat tightened, constricting and causing her eyes to water and glisten, "during the plane crash." She was forced to lie – they had all agreed not to say anything more about the other people residing on the island they had been stranded on.

"Oh no, is everyone else alright? Are they…?"

"Um…just him and Cat."

"Who-?

"She's my best friend and she's like my sister," Jade said, bringing a hand up to wipe furiously at her eyes as if to cover up her tears, not wanting to seem as vulnerable as she appeared, "she passed too. But I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you sure you don't?" Asked Mrs. West with a concerned frown, looking flabbergasted and sympathetic, "it's not good to bottle up what you're feeling Jade – it ruins you, and lands you here."

"No, I just said I don't want to talk about it." She snarled, sitting further up in her bed and glowering at her mother. "You sound like my therapist."

"You have a therapist?" She continued to inquire, still appearing concerned. Jade wanted to puke.

"Um. Yeah I do. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I just didn't expect your father to be so thoughtless making you go to someone to talk about your problems," her mother replied sarcastically, and here, one could easily see that she was Elizabeth West, mother of sarcastic bad girl Jade West of Hollywood Arts, without an ounce of questioning. "Really, Jade…I just didn't expect it."

"Well, mother," said Jade blandly, staring down at black painted fingernails as if boring holes into them. "We've got a lot to talk about."


That awkward moment when there's like a blizzard in the middle of October. O.o
Yep, it's
snowing. Mother Nature, you never cease to amuse me.

Hey again everyone! How are you guys? I decided to do you all a little favor, again, by posting up the first chapter! The next one probably won't be posted for a while, but it won't be too much of a wait. "Of Pianos and Cupcakes" is almost finished with just a few more chapters to go, and I already have half of the second chapter to this one done. The plot line is all complete, with a few tweaks here and there, but it seems like you guys might enjoy it more than the last? I really hope so. But you'll just have to wait and see!

If you haven't seen or might have forgotten, in my author's note on A Lost Hope, I informed you all that this is going to be taking the horror-ish genre, which means that it'll get a little crazy at some points. Well actually, very crazy. And I'll just give one little hint…The last installment was not the last time you see Brent or Cat. What could that mean? Well I'm not telling you. :D And just a little warning, there will be violence, and character death. I have such a pro ending for this story, like I wrote it and everything and omg…I wish I could just post it now but I can't. It's so awesome; excuse me if that sounds conceited. I'm just excited. Very, very excited. :D

And, just throwing this out there, it'd be really nice if you decide to brighten up a terrible day by reviewing...:)


Sneak Peek:

"You know, I think being in this hospital bed made her the insane one." Complained Trina as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest with a shake of her head. "There's no way I'm going back – I mean, you see what happened with-"

"Don't you continue" Said the youngest Vega sharply, glaring at her sibling, "don't you say their names."

"Well it doesn't matter, because I'm not going there ever again. And that's that!" She replied hastily over the murmur of the shortened group. "Brent and Cat died there." The room silenced, and Tori awaited for the outburst that would surely come. She did not have to wait long.