A/N: The prologue is named after 'The Concept' by Teenage Fanclub.

She wanted to get to know the person she was sitting across from. His light, brunette hair moved messily across his forehead and covered his ears almost perfectly; she could still pick out the tops brushing passed his locks. There was a lack of emotion present in his eyes and something drew her to that look on his face. He seemed lost in the world that was too difficult for the two of them, and on the plus side, he wasn't bawling over a lost relative like everyone else currently in the room. His bottom was glued to his chair as he sat there quietly-not saying a word; not even his own name. Francesca Hollingsworth was fairly open about what had happened to her not even three months ago. She didn't constantly discuss it during group sessions, but when asked to explain why she was there, she had easily done just that. When the boy on the opposite side of the room was asked to do the same, he simply refused with silence, and that's all the therapist ever got out of him for the past couple of weeks. Frankie admired the way he was able to decline instructions without seeming troubled with the decision whatsoever.

How was she supposed to confront him and make the other her acquaintance? She continued to count the weeks of sessions on her calendar, marking each Thursday off with a neon pink marker, and still didn't have the courage to talk to the boy.

It was warmer than expected for late August. Frankie overly happy; she was about to begin high school in just a week, her family was still intact, and her favorite pair of shorts had just been recently washed. Caroline Hollingsworth was always up to date on laundry and practically every other chore around their household. Miles Hollingsworth II (not to be mistaken for their eldest, and only, son, Miles Hollingsworth III) brought an extremely overwhelming income home due to his interest taken in politics. A convertible was clearly in their collection of cars, and that exact day, Frankie, her mother, and her brother decided to take a drive. Caroline and Miles were seated in the front while the youngest sat safely in the back of the vehicle. That particular afternoon, Mrs. Hollingsworth had received a call regarding a designer job she had applied for, and was currently gabbing away into the speaker as their car neared a red light. Not noticing the signal to stop, Caroline continued further. They went head on into another machine.

The enormous truck was too much for their tiny convertible.

Frankie's life changed entirely once she got out of the hospital for a fairly easily treated concussion. Her dad became a different person; she couldn't even recognize him. His endless hours of drinking and not coming home until four in the morning became a regular occurrence, he resigned as mayor of the city, and the girl learned to deal with it. What else could she do? She was the kid, after all, she couldn't force her own father to get the care he obviously needed. She stayed back and watched her own dad drown his own liver in alcohol, but it wasn't like Frankie hadn't found her own methods of coping.

Upon entering high school, she put herself in the wrong crowd. At first, it had just been a way to numb the feeling-which was the "medications" she received from some strange boy only a grade ahead of her. He seemed pretty lost, too, and she couldn't help but consistently wonder why he acted the way he did. Everybody had a reason, right? At least Frankie did, but maybe not everyone had meaning behind their normal drug use-maybe they all just did it for fun unlike herself.

Zig Novak was the only boy Frankie was ever around, and that was because he couldn't afford to buy a car, which meant never having to drive. She preferred walking. It was much more peaceful, you could think clearer, and you wouldn't be able to ignore a red light by chit-chatting on your cell phone.

They spent most of their free time at the girl's house, considering Zig was always too embarrassed to show her his own. Although, she had gone there after school once to help him with an English project. But they never left the convenience store part. Which Frankie didn't mind, considering she had gotten free ice cream out of their freezers. It was unlimited, as well, but she only assumed Zig didn't reject the girl from getting more was because he had a thing for her; she had only guessed that from the last couple of nights they had spent together before that.

Frankie lost her virginity to Zig Novak on September 14th. It happened on a Saturday night after being high off of a pill he had given her; she hadn't minded doing it.

This date was also marked on her calendar in the same neon pink marker. That's the only way she could recall or remember anything semi-important in her life.

It hurt, but in a way that wasn't explainable. She suffered through it and then was forced to beam about how great he had been, but to be utterly blunt, it sucked. There were no sparks, no feelings, and certainly no connection. Zig was attached at her hip now, and Frankie didn't like it. She didn't want a boyfriend, she had wanted a one night stand.

That one night turned into two, and that two turned into three, and so on…

One week. She had done it seven times, and each of them were marked on the correct dates-Frankie was high every time.

It's hard to put into words what an anxiety attack is like, especially when it won't end. Having one in the back of a car is even worse, and then when your dad doesn't know what is going on, and then you're taken to the hospital, and then nurses and doctors are surrounding you..

It feels like hell; at least that's how Frankie would describe the experience.

How was she supposed to explain what was wrong with about seven people leaning over her bed, demanding answers? She already couldn't breathe and they were making the space even tighter.. like her chest.. she couldn't feel her heart beating anymore.. And the next thing she knew, she was awake; everything was white. There were no nurses, no doctors, not a professional in sight. The only person present was a concerned Miles Hollingsworth pacing around the room. His black shoes hit the tiles in an irregular, also annoying, pattern; it bothered Frankie. But he was here, and he cared. He was worried about his only daughter's well being.

This day was also marked on her calendar-September 24th.

Agreeing to attend a group therapy session every Thursday wasn't something Frankie had done willingly. It was either that or to be put on some sort of anxiety meds, which would mean no longer being able to consume the drugs Zig gave her on a daily basis due to the fact they would make the episodes worse. Therapy seemed like the best option, and it wasn't as terrible as she had anticipated. She wasn't commanded to express her feelings; all that mattered was if she sat there for an hour or not. It was as simple as that. Oh well if she didn't make any progress.

October 25th was the next square covered with pink marker. She scribbled it in hard and fast, almost moving into the sections that contained the 24th and 26th.

His mom was late to pick him up, as well as Frankie's dad. She sat in the waiting room with him. She learned his name-it was Cam. She hadn't been able to get a last name out of him, but she had gratefully given hers in hope he would try to locate her whereabouts. She couldn't help but doubt this, though, considering he seemed too "cool" to attempt something like that. Before she could uncover anything interesting about the boy, his mom arrived, and he had to go.

Later that night, she logged onto FaceRange with a friend request and short message from some kid named 'Campbell Saunders'.

'Hi. Did your dad ever pick you up?'