A/N: This is a kind of story layout that I've never really written before, and that I haven't seen before, but I'd like to try it out.

I had a thought last night, and I was thinking specifically about a good, but very young friend of mine that died last year on March 27th. And I wanted to interpret my thoughts into a story to put on here, but I had to think of what fandom to use.

I picked "9", because not only is it my current favorite fandom, but I believe I found a way to put my story into the character's perspective. After the "9" story, my own story will be under it. Again, I've never seen a layout like the one I'm about to try out, so hopefully it will work.

So, here is Story One – 9 edition.

I apologize in advance for any out-of-character-ness (which you'll see mostly in 7 - I made her seem so bipolar by accident. Sorry.).

Disclaimer: "9" and its characters belong to Shane Acker and Focus Features.

- - -

Seven's POV

I felt silent that day. A heavy, confusing air fell over my shoulders, weighing my thoughts. As I ran with 9, with his hand wrapped around my wrist and telling me, "We have to hurry!", I couldn't do anything else but run with him. I didn't have time to ask questions like "Where are we going?" or "What's going on?". I could only run with him in question.

I remember sitting on the edge of a book that the twins had left out before wandering off themselves, sharpening and re-shaping the blade to my weapon. I swiped the weapon through the air, testing it out. I smiled to myself when the air whistled around the blade, curling around it, being cut by it, then reshaping again and flowing away from it. It was one of my most favorite feelings in the world – accomplishment. I brought the blade back down into my lap to smooth out the little kinks and scratches, only to be pulled away from my weapon by a voice calling my name.

"Seven, Seven!" I raised my eyes and put the weapon aside as 9 ran to me frantically. I knew he had gone out to collect any material that we could use, and he always came back with something. Except for this time.

"Nine?" I questioned. I leaped off of the book and landed in front of him. I put my hands on his shoulders as he took in large gulps of breath. "Nine, what's wrong?" As I looked into his fear-stricken eyes when they lifted, I immediately thought the worst and asked, "Is one of the beasts back?"

He shook his head ferociously, blurting, "No!" I squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Then what's wrong?" He looked at my hands on his shoulders and gently took them off. My head tilted to the side. He squeezed one of my hands.

"Seven, it's Three and Four. Something happened to them." I tried to pull away from him to grab my weapon, but he held onto my hand tightly. "There isn't a beast! It's just..."

"Just what, Nine?" I asked him, panicked. He ran his thumb over the top of my hand soothingly. My chest tightened up. "Nine, don't do that."

"Do what?"

I nodded to my hand. "That. You only do that when there's bad news." He stopped running his thumb over my hand. I took my other hand and placed it under his chin and made him look at me. "Nine, what happened to the twins?" I asked sternly.

His eyes flickered as he tried to look down. "I-I don't know. One of them ran up to me and tried telling me something was wrong. I don't know which one it was, because he ran away to fast after he explained to me." He focused his eyes back on mine. "All I know is that one of them is in trouble, and we need to go help!" I stared at him hard and long, trying to make any sense of the situation. Three and Four never got into trouble. Never. Why would they suddenly get into trouble now?

"Nine, this better not be some sick joke–" He shook his face from out of my hand. He scowled.

"Do you honestly think I would joke about something like this, Seven?" He swiped his hand away from mine. I jumped back a little bit, staring at him in disbelief. His eyes narrowed, then softened. He put his head in his hands. "Seven...please."

My chest tightened again, this time out of fear. The last time he did that was when the others...

I pried one of his hands away from his face and pulled on it gently. He looked up at me.

If we were created with tears, I'm sure he would have been crying.

"Come on, Nine. Tell me where they are."

-

Rain poured down on us, like needles cutting through our skin with the thread of woe and depression binding and pinching our skin together. My hand slipped out of Nine's and I ran down the slope, slipping on mud and rocks, sliding towards the two figures. Four looked at me, his mouth curved downward. His hood had slipped off of his head, but he didn't dare pick it back up. I squinted, the rain obscuring my vision. I knelt next to Four and pulled his hood back over his head, in attempt to keep hiim a little warmer. Four didn't flinch or move. I followed his gaze, which was at the ground.

I wondered, suddenly, why we weren't born with tears. When I came into the world, I saw my creator's eyes glazed over, shining at me. His mouth was pulled upward into a happy, yet tired grin. At the time, I wondered if all people like him had eyes like that. However, after roaming around his workshop, I realized later that his eyes looked dry and boring when I next looked into them. The only reason I knew what tears were was because of Four and –

"Three," I wailed. I picked his limp head up, his hood already touching the ground and filling with water. Four moved his arms to support Three's torso as I scooted over to support his head. As I sat across from Four, I hugged Three's head to my shoulder, making strange noises into his neck. I didn't know what these noises were for – I had never heard myself make such strange noises in my life. Were they possibly the noises that our creator gave us in place of tears glazing our eyes? Did his kind ever make these noises?

I picked up my head as I heard Four fidget. His head was buried in his brother's stomach. His back jumped, as if he were hiccuping. Nine had come over and sat next to Four, awkwardly rubbing his back as he stared in horror and defeat at the lost twin. His eyes met mine. I looked back down at Three's face. I cradled his head in my left arm and stroked his cheek with my right finger. My breath caught in my throat and rattled out as my eyes squinted and my mouth dipped into a large frown.

I heard once that tears were the signs of many things. They could have been the sign of surprise, or happiness. Sometimes even laughter and anger. I had heard only once though, that they could be the signs of sadness.

"Three," I whispered.

I wish I had been born with tears. My eyes hurt so terribly, as if they were about the break under the pressure of the sadness building around and behind them. I slowly rocked Three's limp head, tracing my finger around the stitches on his forehead. I wanted anything but the rain to touch his face – I wanted the sunshine to make the dampness go away, even the sight of the colorful dawn to maybe, just maybe, make his lens flicker and catalog. I even wished for my own tears to make him wake up.

But then I remembered. I don't have tears.

I did remember, however, words that I saw once. Words that didn't make sense to me once, but made sense to me once the child in my arms explained to me through flickers and hand motions what the words meant. I had made sure to memorize the words, but now, only a certain phrase or two came through my sore mouth. I pressed my lips to Three's forehead, against his stitches, and muttered quietly to him,

"If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, I'll follow you into the dark."

I kept my head there, keeping the rain from searing through his damp skin any longer. Let the needle-rain sear through me, I thought. Leave my baby alone.

I don't know how long we all sat there, surrounding our lost child. However, Nine was the first to stand. He tried to pry Four away from his brother, but Four resisted. Four even made the faintest of grunting noises as he pulled away from Nine's gentle touch. Nine looked at me pleadingly, asking me to help.

"Nine, let him be," I said to him. The rain had softened to a drizzle, so we could at least hear each other. Nine sat next me, on the side where Three's head lay in my hand. He put his hand on the top of Three's head and ran his thumb over it gently. He shook his head.

"Seven...I don't know what to do." I leaned my head on Nine's shoulder as he took over holding Three's head.

"We have to bury him, Nine," I muttered to him, praying that Four didn't hear. Nine let out a heavy sigh and placed his forehead against Three's.

"I think we should all get inside and dry off. Maybe let Four alone with his brother for a little bit before..."

I pondered the thought. I knew Four would throw a huge fit if we took his brother away from him now. He just wasn't ready yet. "Alright. Let's get them inside." I moved away from Nine and crawled over to Four, who was still hunched over his brother. I slid an arm around his slumped shoulders and pulled his head to my shoulder. "Four," I called softly to him. I heard his eyes flicker, which told me he was listening. "We're going to go back home now. All of us." I placed the back of my hand against his cheek. "I think you'll feel better once you're dry."

Four didn't respond for a little while. When he did though, he nodded his head very subtly. I looked up at Nine.

"Nine, I'll carry Three home." Nine nodded, and I slowly moved away from Four. Nine and I switched places, and I placed my arms under Three's body. Nine placed a hand on Four's back and led him a few steps ahead of me and Three.

I shuddered. Three's body was so incredibly still in my arms. I remembered that once, I had carried him the same way, him in my arms, trying to fall asleep. Four had scrambled into Nine's arms, having the same problem as his brother. That night, neither of them had been able to sleep. It could have been the roaring thunder, something they had never experienced before, and were frightened that maybe the beast had come back. It had taken a little while, but holding Three in my arms, talking to him gently, had lulled him to sleep. Even when he was asleep, he moved more than how he was in my arms then.

We had all managed to get back inside our home, the library that the twins had lived in for so long. Nine had already grabbed a piece of cloth that he had gathered a long time ago and wrapped around Four's shoulders. Four, however, was watching me intently. I placed Three down on his bed that Nine had built for him only days after the others had passed on. Four scurried over to his brother and stared at him, just as he had been only minutes before.

I walked over to Nine, who held is arms out to me. He wrapped me in his arms, resting his cheek on top of my head and whispering, "I hope Four is going to be okay."

I turned around in Nine's hug and looked at Four. He sat across from his brother on his own bed, clutching the blanket around himself tighter as he stared at Three. I frowned, and my eyebrows raised slightly. I shook my head and placed it in my hands. My shoulders shuddered, and I let out those strange, gasping noises again. Nine turned me around again in his hug and held me close.

I wondered why my creator didn't create me with a heart, either.

Because I'm sure right now it would have been breaking.

- - -

A/N: Sorry if it seemed rushed and too short. I just had to get that out of my head, and I'm not sure if I want to add any more onto it. I feel like it would be kind of overkill.

I purposely left Three's death a mystery – I decided to leave that to the reader's decision. I didn't really want to ruin the moment by blurting out how Three died.

That little phrase that Seven remembered is a line from 'I Will Follow You Into The Dark' by Death Cab for Cutie. I know, I know. But I was listening to the song while writing this.

Next part will be the 'Author's Story', a.k.a. my story.

You may skip this part if you only wanted to read the "9" story.

This story is a true story. It's my story about experiencing the death of a friend, and being fully unprepared for it.

Enjoy.

- - -

Author's POV

I remember hearing the news being read out by my father through an email. My mom immediately locked herself in the bathroom, trying to conceal her sobs with the walls and layers of tissues. I, however, stood there, staring at the email sent out by our pastor, mouth gaping.

I'm sorry to inform you all of the passing of Victoria Snoke. She passed away Friday, March 27th. Please keep her family in your prayers.

The email included the funeral service and wake dates, which were to be the Wednesday after, April 1st.

My brother's fifteenth birthday.

When that Wednesday came, my brother and I were pulled out of our last class of the day and driven off to the funeral home. I remember the ride there, sitting in the back of my mom's car, plugged in and staring out the window. I didn't know what to expect – I had never been to a wake before. Well, I had, but I didn't know the person. I think he was my mom's cousin or something. Someone I had never met before.

This time, though...

Victoria was one of my Vacation Bible School kids. I was a counselor for the second time, and she just so happened to be one of the eight kids in my group. Before then, I had only seen glimpses of her and heard her name be called, but never really talked to her or met her.

She certainly wasn't one of the quieter kids. She would constantly want to hold the clipboard, want me to hold her hand and follow the group. She always had something to talk about with me, and we could carry a conversation. She was like a little candle, always smiling at you.

She would also try to jump up high enough with two fingers stuck out, yelling, "Bunny ears!" at me. Even after VBS ended, she would catch me with my friend Will and try to jump up behind me, high enough for her two little fingers to reach behind my head. I would look behind me and smile at her, and she would be smiling back.

Bunny ears, I thought. Would I look good with bunny ears, or did she just always try to do it because I was so tall and she wanted to try it out?

My mom parked the car, and I found myself looking that the funeral home. I switched my iPod off and wrapped the headphones around it, stick it in my pocket. My brother, who had dressed up today for the wake (not his birthday, like many of his friends guessed), jumped out of the car and made his way across the street. I was much slower in the same process. I walked with my mom that my brother left behind in the car. We didn't talk to each other as we walked inside.

The room was packed. Good Lord.

So many people were squished together in the not-big-enough room. I could point out obvious family members, and family friends, and people from the church. I also noticed a group of young girls close to Victoria's age, all wearing soccer uniforms. Or, maybe they were track uniforms. I read that she was a part of the track team.

There were two rooms conjoined together, and I walked into the one on my right. I didn't see Victoria, but I saw some people from the church. My mom immediately went over into their group. I was left alone to wander through the thick sea of people.

I did manage to make my way to the opposite side, where posters and letters adorned the wall, all saying "We love you Victoria!" or "God Bless" or "Rest In Peace", or some other variation of those three. I noticed the group of girls in track/soccer uniforms, crowded around a laptop. I peered over their shoulders, noticing the slideshow of pictures. They were all, of course, of Victoria.

I turned around and tried looking for my brother so I didn't feel so alone. I spotted him in a group of people, talking to them. He was always the social butterfly in contrast to me. I walked over to him and stood awkwardly next to him, listening in on his conversation. I said hello to whoever he was talking to, and just...stood there. I wasn't sure what to do.

"Abby, I'm going over to, uh, Victoria now." My brother pulled me out of my little phase, and I nodded at him. I followed him through the crowd of people.

And, I managed to stop halfway. I saw Victoria. But I wasn't exactly sure if it was her.

Her cheeks were extremely puffy, and the area around her eyes looked sore and red. Her skin was blotchy, and her hair was more twisted and mangled than usual. I stared at her for a long, long moment. I didn't even recognize her.

What kind of pain did this poor girl go through to end up like this?

I did end up getting from point A.5 to point B, following my brother. I knelt down before Victoria's open casket. I clasped my hands together and bent my head down. I uttered a small prayer in my mind, then looked back up at the girl. She looked so alien, so strange this up close. I couldn't understand how or why she went through such a transition. I had the urge to reach and and touch her, but I definitely wasn't going to. Not only was it disrespectful, but I was afraid. I was afraid she would crumble under my touch. So, I kept my hands closed together.

I noticed a few people waiting out of the corner of my eye, so I got up and walked on. I stopped in front of her mother and her father. My brother was talking to the father, so I paused and looked at Victoria's mother. Her eyes were wet with tears, red from crying so long. I held my arms out and hugged her. The closest I've ever gotten to the woman.

I let go of her, and she looked at me with a tiny smile. I gave a tiny smile back and moved on to Victoria's father. I gave him a hug as well. He seemed surprised that I hugged him, but I didn't know what else to do. Handshakes, I felt, weren't appropriate.

I only noticed then that my dad had gotten there from work and was walking towards my brother. I walked towards the two of them, giving my dad a hug.

"I gave them my Boy Scout tie slide," my brother told my dad. He didn't smile as if her were proud of himself, for once. Instead, he looked down. His eyes looked a little red.

My dad patted my brother on the back. "That's very nice of you," he said to him. My brother nodded. I looked back at Victoria and her parents and felt my peace sign-shaped earrings in my pocket. Should I give them one of them? I asked myself. You know, as a sign of peace and that she was in peace now?

My shyness must have gotten the best of me, because I never gave them the earring. I don't know why I didn't. Maybe I was just too embarrassed.

We soon all moved on to the cemetery, which was only a few roads away from the funeral parlor. I plugged myself back in, and scrolled around my music library.

I landed on a song called "Dear God". I decided that it was appropriate. Besides, I hadn't really listened to the song before.

A lonely road, crossed another cold state line.

Miles away from those I love, purpose hard to find.

While I recall all the words you spoke to me,

Can't help but wish that I was there,

Back where I'd love to be, oh yeah.

Dear God, the only thing I ask of you is

To hold her when I'm not around

When I'm much too far away...

I found myself lost in the song. The lyrics, I found, described myself at the moment. I looked up at the sky through the window. It started to drizzle a little bit.

The tires of the car ran over some gravel, and I knew that we had arrived at the cemetery. I, again, turned off my iPod and put it in my pocket before following my parents to the large tent, showing where Victoria was going to be buried.

Lines of flowers and stuffed animals sat at the edge of the deep hole where she was going to be laid to rest. As I passed her white coffin, and kissed my fingers and patted the box with them. I felt myself almost slip. I caught myself before I could.

I passed my the family, who sat in chairs beneath the tent, staring at the coffin that their little girl was inside. The mother cried hard, and I felt a frown tug at my lips.

I also felt my hands cross the pair of peace earrings in my pocket. And I still didn't have the courage to leave one of them there.

As me and my family drove home, I replayed "Dear God" again and again. And each time, the lyrics sunk in a little deeper.

As I lay down in my bed that night, I stared at my ceiling. I prayed to God, just as I did every night, then stared at the ceiling a little bit longer.

I curled up onto my side and felt tears come to my eyes. And then I began to wonder. Why were we created with tears?

I wished Victoria a goodnight through my soft crying, and fell asleep with wet eyes.

-

Maybe this year, on March 27th, 2010, if I decide to visit Victoria Snoke's grave, I'll finally leave that earring there. She was one of the most pleasant people to enter my life, and sadly come out of it.

It's the least I can do.

Rest in Peace, Victoria Snoke. I love you.

- - -

A/N: I have the feeling that I will edit the "9" half of the story soon.

"Dear God" belongs to Avenged Sevenfold.

My story belongs to me.