Okay, so I'm mad. I had a whole thing written out, and it got deleted, and my little recovery program can't find it! GRRRR. D:

So, uhm, please just know I've already written all of this way better in a much better way, and I really, really liked it. It was like ten pages… ): I may rewrite it at a later date. (When have I ever followed up, though? Pshhh.) And NOT of authors notes. So, I'm on Facebook now.

Listenstogreenday's Fanfictions is up there as a fan page!

So here's the horribly written summary of what I DID have written. I'm just gonna make this a prologue.

Near moved the object from his head to under his pillow when someone came into the room. "L."

"Yes?"

"We have a case of molesta-"

"No." Near said simply, darkly. He didn't even turn around, keeping his albino eyes trained on the multiple screens in front of him. He tuned out the others and turned quietly to another, where a small, young, angelic looking albino looked terrified and was talking quietly about how she was assaulted by her swim team. She was fearful and shaking. Near frowned. Why was she so familiar? Her voice, her face, her snowy, downy hair plastered to the side of the face with water. Her voice carried a light English accent. What in the world?

Then it hit him. It hit him like a brick wall.

James coughed and frowned. He sat quietly in the uncomfortable chair, trying to take notes with spitballs, paper planes, and various other items being thrown at him. He whipped around and hissed quietly. "Please, just stop."

"Why would we do that, Happy?" One of the boys chuckled, and when class was over several seconds later, James found himself smacked on the back of the head- hard, with a text book. "Th-thanks." he stuttered, coughing.

Overall, it was just too much. Too many foster homes, too many abuses. No matter how well he behaved, how well he acted, how much he cleaned. It ended the same thing. They all got their hands on you the second they could. You could never be their child. You were just some punk kid.

Now no one wanted him.

Icy water. Cold. Freezing. Frigid. Gelid. All those stupid words that schools taught their students. They immediately flashed into Caroline's mind. It was so cold, like thousands of tiny needles thrusting deep into her, freezing every part of her, she could feel everything freezing over, glaciating. Her legs kicked aimlessly, but when she was about to reach the surface, someone pushed her back down, harshly again, over, and over and over again… It was unbearable.

Then it seemed like nothingness was closing in. Like sleep, barely controllable. And when she was about to submit to the confines of the nothingness, purely exhausted and seeking the welcoming warmth that it brought to her, it stopped, and she floated gently to the top, then coughed loudly.