Author's Note: Hey everyone! I know, your probably reading this and thinking I'm crazy, just how many different stories am I going to have going at once. But I cant help it! I go with the flow of creativity, and with that said. This is how this story came about. A few weeks ago I was browsing through music videos on demand, and I stumbled across a 55 minute concert done by The All-American Rejects, so I sat and watched it and was totally reminded of why I love that band so much, and fun fact AAR was the first concert my son went too, granted he was a little over four months old when we saw them, when they were doing the Wal-Mart shows. Still cool fact nonetheless. Well anyways, I had a dream, and with some help from my bestie :D and her input, and her willingness to once again allow me to base a character around her ( The character Evangeline if anyone reads this and wonders.) And thus, It's Better When I Bleed For You was born.

This story is Rated M. Just to be on the safe side for language, alcohol references, and I'm sure there will be other things to add onto this list as time goes on.

Also, I ask that people bare with me. I know that the likelihood of what I'm writing about actually happening is a bazillion to one, but hey they call it fiction for a reason ya know.

Anyways, I know this is kind of a whole new area for me, I mean its definately trailing off the path I'm used to and comfortable writing on, but like I said before, I'm following the creativity wherever it decides to take me. So if anyone stumbles across this story, I sincerely hope you find it enjoyable. Let me know what you think, whether you love it or hate it, I take every opinion into consideration, as long as its presented to me constructivly. However, if you flame, rant and rave, or are just plain mean, you can kick rocks.

As Always, READ/ENJOY/REVIEW!

XO-Amber

Chapter 1: A Feeling

" Sometimes you get a feeling, deep down inside of you. One you cant shake. Or quiet. One that you carry with you. Its those feelings that you need to listen to the most."-Anonymous.

Call it Fate.

Divine Intervention.

Coincidence.

Whatever you want to call it, something is definitely in the works today. I can feel it. From the moment Evangeline, with her wild tumbles of raven colored hair curling around her face, breezed into my room this morning to wake me, something was humming along in my veins. Something I couldn't and still cant quiet seem to put my finger on.

Even after a lengthy, hot shower, the feeling is still there.

" Hello, Earth to Braelyn, have you heard a damn word I just said?" Evangeline asks snapping black tipped nails in front of my face causing me to shake out of my thoughts.

" What?" I ask, and her answering eye roll when she refills my cup of coffee tells me that apparently my best friend has been talking my ear off and I missed all of it.

" Well, welcome back to reality princess."

" Oh bite me."

" Ha! You wish. But now that I do seem to have your attention, I was telling you about my date last night," she says and I smile, holding a finger up to her.

" Okay, I want to hear about this, I do. But your going to have to come into my room to tell me, I need to do my hair for work," I say, and with cup in hand and best friend following close behind I make my way back into my room.

The bright colors that splash over the walls of my bedroom shimmer in the early morning, San Diego sunshine, and they are a huge contrast to the crimson and black coloring of Evangeline's. Just one more puzzle piece of our relationship that leaves most people who meet us in a state of confusion.

With hands working on more off instinct than anything else, I set my coffee on the shining cherry wood dresser before gathering my box of hair supplies.

Settling on the floor, legs crossing I stare at myself in the mirror. The spitting image of my mother. Except for my eyes. The beautiful mixture of blue and green, are definitely my Dad's eyes. Creamy, pale skin screaming of the Irish in my blood, and making the act of trying to obtain a tan a damn near impossibility. An homage to my Mother's country.

I lift my brush, waving it at Evangeline as she settles to sitting on my bed, long legs curled under her, as she watches me, and my fingers set to work, parting my hair for the braids I have in mind.

" So your date last night," I start and she smiles, nodding your head.

" Right. My date. It was. Interesting."

" Interesting good? Or interesting as in "I wouldn't be one bit surprised if this guy was a serial killer" interesting?" I ask, my words a little mumbled as I talk around the bobby pin clasped between my lips.

" The latter sadly, considering he was gorgeous. But all he could talk about was his ex-girlfriend. How she hurt him so bad, shattered his heart, left him empty inside," and with an expert toss of her head she brushes the apology that was fixing to tumble from my lips aside before I can even speak it, " So I was thinking. Since I haven't had a decent date in a year, and well, you've never had a decent date. We should pamper ourselves."

" Hey, I resent that. I had a perfectly nice date six months ago," I say turning my head to check the evenness of my braids.

" No sweetie what you had was a perfectly boring encounter with Roger. Doesn't even qualify as a date. He took you to breakfast. Who does that? The only way breakfast can even be slightly called a date is if its after a long night of hot, steamy, se…."

" Okay, okay I get it," I wince rolling my eyes, " No need for details. And his name was Robert. Not Roger. But I am intrigued. What "pampering" have you got in mind."

" That is for me to know, and you, my best friend in the whole wide world, to find out. Meet me at Hyde Edwards. Five. Got to go. Have a good day saving the world, one less fortunate person at a time," she calls out as she sails out of my room, and she leaves me shaking my head after her. She's good at that.

Forty five minutes later I sail into Project Concern International, my home away from home, and after saying good morning to the small scatter of co-workers and interns, I settle in my office, putting the finishing touches to the project proposal I have been obsessing over for four grueling months.

" Hey, there you are," a soft voice calls from the door and I look up, smiling when I see Charlotte, her coppery red hair flowing freely over one shoulder.

" Good morning, I'm just putting the finishing touches on the proposal. What about you? Did he agree?" I ask, and her answering grin has me doing a quick dance behind my desk before scurrying to her, wrapping her in a tight hug.

" I cant believe you did it! There is no way this can fall through now," I say, composing myself.

" I would hope not. Though I have to admit it didn't take long to convince him."

" Good. That's good," I say, and with a glance at my watch I raise my eyebrows at her and gather the materials I have worked painstakingly on for what seems like an eternity, " Well, its now or never."

I've sat in the large board room of PCI many times. Watching and listening as important projects were discussed. But never have I been on the pitching end of things. Ever. I take a deep breath, Charlotte setting up the projector and as soon as the lights dim I find courage in the dark. And I smile.

" Six months ago, we found out that the campaign to Haiti was shelved due to lack of funds," I say, easily sliding through the pictures I had taken from the four other campaigns I have been on, " And well, we all know it just didn't sit well with me. Haiti is one of the countries that we need to help the most. Though its been over a year since the earthquake that devastated the country, they are still in desperate need of medical help, clean drinking water, food, and the list goes on and on. For four months now, Charlotte and I have worked hard on this proposal. Looking down every avenue, heading off any and all potential roadblocks, and it is with a sincere hope in my heart that the board hears us out. We want to throw a benefit concert."

" Braelyn, you know," the deep rumbling voice of Peter, working president of the PCI San Diego branch comes from the head of the table.

" Please, I know what your going to say. And I'm telling you this will work. Not only does a benefit concert hold the potential to raise money for Haiti, but we can make more than enough to fund the campaign trip. We all ready have one band on board, and with their help, and word of mouth, we'll get others."

" And what band do you all ready have?" Peter asks.

" Charlotte will do the honors, she got this band," I say nodding to Charlotte and with a bright, yet shy smile on her face she goes to the door and opens it.

" I would like to introduce everyone to Jared Leto. He is the lead singer of one of my favorite bands, 30 Seconds to Mars. He and his band have agreed to be a part of the benefit concert, with the strict rule that what pay would go to them be donated to the PCI Campaign for Haiti. With Mr. Leto's help, as well as both Alexis and I making phone calls and arrangements, we can get more. This can work. This can raise money for not only our campaign, but most importantly raise money for the people of Haiti," Charlotte says, and the room settles in an awkward sort of silence before Peter motions for the lights to come up and for us to take our seats.

" Mr. Leto," Peter says, but Jared laughs catching us all by surprise.

" Please, just call me Jared."

" Okay, Jared. If you don't mind me asking, why do you want to be a part of this campaign?"

" Its simple really. I lived in Haiti for a short time, when I was twelve, and my mother helped run two medical facilities. I have taken part in a lot of fundraisers for disaster relief for the people of Haiti, but this, this is something I know would raise even more money than anything else have. It's hard, to ask people to give money, and not give anything in return. And sure, when a disaster first strikes people are all too willing to open their wallets for a good cause. But its been over a year since the earthquake, and there is still so much that they need help with. Now offer a benefit concert, with bands people love, bands people will gladly give money to see. It's a win, win."

I listen, as the board talks, voices melding together as thoughts are worked out, but I catch myself staring at Jared, and heat creeps up my neck and in my face when he looks over at me, winking.

" Well, I guess we've reached a decision," Peter says and with a breath caught in my chest I wait for the hammer to fall.

When I first stepped foot in Project Concern International, I was nineteen years old, and felt completely overwhelmed. The idea, that one person, could make a difference seemed alien to me then. But after my internship, one that opened my eyes not only to the state of other countries, but to the firm realization that it in fact takes just one person to bring hope, I fought to gain position here. And for two years I have worked as just one of a team of six photojournalists for PIC.

A job that drains me. Empowers me. And often times leaves me feeling broken hearted. But one that I love. One that fits me like a glove.

In somewhat of a daze, I leave PIC, my heart drumming so madly against my chest that I can hardly breathe.

I did it.

We did it.

Charlotte and I. We got the project. We got the green light to do the project, and with a silly grin on my face I slide into my car. Today is a good day.

" Braelyn," Evangeline calls my name as I step out of my car, and I toss a wave as I make my way towards her, skipping happily through the parking lot, " Well don't you look happy. Good day?"

" The best. Oh my God the very best," I say hugging her, and with eyes tearing up as the realization settles over me, I hold her at arms length trying not to cry and laugh at the same time, " We got it. We got the project!"

" You got it! Oh my God you got it! I knew you would! Oh wow, wow, okay. Okay. We are going to go in there, be pampered. The works. I'm talking, hair color, facials, mani and pedi's, and you are going to tell me all about it."