Woo! A lot of words. Anyways, I couldn't get around to uploading My Sister's Boyfriend, or My Only Escape. I will…soon. I promise. But, for now, enjoy this. Something I found searching through files on my laptop along with an old Demi Lovato album and screen-shots of my brother's Facebook (yeah, I know, weird). The first half I used for an old RP that I had, and the second half I just wrote. It's just a one-shot; I will not be making any more chapters.

I swear I will update my other stories. I just have a lot going on right now, but I will! I swear.

Anyways, enjoy, lovelies! Review and yeah. 3

The party was in full swing, but Adam used this word very loosely. "Full swing" actually meant a bunch of serious adults, talking buisness and sharing glasses of wine. Adam sighed, flopping down on the couch. His mom came over shortly after, telling him to sit up and look proper. He could see the daze in her eyes and even if he couldn't, she was smiling, really smiling, a lot. He knew she was a little buzzed.

"Adam, come talk to the Wilsons!" Audra demanded. Adam lifted his head, hearing the name. He couldn't place it, but he knew it was very familiar. He mumbled an okay and pushed himself off the leather couch. He walked over to a small table, which he set up hours before with the help of Drew. He saw the family, a woman, man, and son. The son was what scared him. He knew the name even before they were introduced. Well, re-introduced. Bryce Wilson. From his old school. His hell.

"Ah, Gr—I mean, Adam. Nice to see you again." Bryce smiled a smile that said more than "nice to see you again". A flash of memories flooded his mind, and faded bruises seemed like they were resurfacing, hurting as much as they did when he got them.

"Hey, Adam, why don't you show Bryce your room? He says you two were real good friends." Mrs. Wilson suggested cheerfully. Real good friends? Yeah, right.

"Um…" Adam stalled. There was something about Bryce's smile, something about his way-too-friendly aura, which scared Adam.

"Great idea!" Adam's mom practically yelled, guzzling some more alcohol.

"I—I…" Adam's mind was reeling for excuses.

"I would love that, Adam. We need to catch up." the way Bryce spoke, Adam was now shit sure that Bryce had something planned. Audra pushed them up the stairs before Adam could protest. He tripped up the stairs, Bryce smirking knowingly beside him. As they traveled up to his room Adam could practically hear his heart beat. They walked into his room, and Bryce walked around, inspecting everything. He walked over to his dresser, finally speaking as he picked up a picture of him and Lexi that he forgot to throw out.

"Didn't know you were a lesbo now, Grace." sneered Bryce. Adam clenched his fists, muttering through clenched teeth,

"I'm not a lesbian, I'm a guy, and I date girls."

"A guy? Seriously? You're still thinking that shit? Fag. Hey, hey, hey, what is this?" No. No. No. He found the lighter. The old clip. He saw the burn marks. Bryce Wilson was a lot of terrible things, but he was not stupid. Then he laughed. "You burned? Do you still do it? Please keep doing it. You deserve it so much." If they were in a cartoon, steam would surely be flowing out his already red ears. Bryce was now rifling through his drawers, and Adam couldn't stop it because of all the things Bryce did to him, he knew what he was capable of. He pulled out one of binders, and cocked his head.

"What is this crap?" he asked, obviously appalled. He found picture instructions on the tag and laughed his laugh deep and hollow. "For your chest?" Adam looked down, slightly embarrassed. "You really are a faggot. You might've left school but now I'm back. And I believe we have unfinished business." Adam's throat hitched, his head felt dizzy, he didn't believe this. But, it was definitely real. He felt his head pushed down, and felt a blow to his side instantly. He groaned. Feeling Bryce's hot breath on his ear, he heard "Shut up, bitch" before another kick, this time to his head. He picked up the lighter and opened it, and then he held Adam down between his legs. Adam had given up, ready to take what's coming. He held it to his arm, leaving a mark as deep as he would've, maybe even deeper. It hurt; he thought it hurt more then when he would've done it, just because it was Bryce. Tears welled in his eyes. The party was loud, and no one heard Adam cry out sharply as Bryce dragged him up by his neck, clenching his throat and throwing him against the wall. This went on for a while, until his blood was making the floor slippery. The hardest blow came last, a kick to his ribs, and then, "You're a girl, Gracie Torres. An ugly, no-good, faggot, dyke, shitty, bitchy, mindless, stupid, horrible girl, but still a girl. You deserve everything that comes to you, and this won't be the last. You deserved that lesbian girl breaking up with you, and you don't deserve anyone. You deserve to die. And if I could make that happen, I would. But I can't, but I will keep doing everything to make your life so bad that you have no choice. I hope you commit suicide, and I'll show up to your lousy funeral full of fuckers and laugh. Because you deserve to die." With that, he left. Left Adam laying there, writhing in complete pain. He crawled over to his bed; each movement made everything hurt that much worse. He heard his name being called, and panicked, big time. He bandaged himself up, although he wasn't too worried, since he could hear the slur in his mom's words. He had used the gauze from when he burned. He went downstairs and met his mom alone in the kitchen, saying he fell and that's why he was bandaged. His mom laughed to the air and then turned back to him, and she was completely drunk. She looked so happy…he wished he could be like that right now. He tried something that would never work with sober Audra. "Hey, mom, can I go out?" She slurred something inaudible, but Adam took it as a yes. Before he left, he eyed the six-pack of beer wearily. Maybe it would help him forget. Maybe. Even though it hurt like hell, and he thought that he should go to the hospital by this point, he picked it up and left.

He stumbled and fumbled until he reached—what he identified as—his safe haven. In reality, it was a cliché rich-side-of-town hang-out for the snobs. But for now, at this late hour, no one was here. Just Adam and his demons. This, he thought, might actually be worse than Bryce's beating, but he tried not to dwell. He sat—or, more so, fell—near a tree and dropped however much of the beer he could manage to hold onto with his shaking hands, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. The pain was so strong he felt like every bone in his body was being lit on fire. He glanced at the marks that Bryce had left, and winced. Damn, Bryce Wilson sure could pack a punch. He groaned and groggily picked up the first bottle. After struggling to open the cap, he brought it to his lips. At first, it tasted like liquid fire soaring down his throat; it felt as if it was making a mark. But gradually, as he gulped down more, the taste became easier to drink down. After about the third beer, he felt something vibrate. At first, he thought it might've been his body. With all this pain and his state of drunkenness, he wouldn't be surprised. But, as some loud noise blared, he realized it was his phone. "H-hello?" He stammered into the phone, his breathing heavy.

"Hey, Adam," It was Eli's deep voice that was on the other line. Uh-oh. "Wondering how the party was going? Well, that's a lie," Eli laughed, though it was a nervous laugh. "Drew called and said you weren't there…but he couldn't leave the house, he was, uh, preoccupied. Just wanted to make sure you're all right, for Drew's, yours, and my sake."

"Yep," Adam drawled out, trying to make his obviously not sober voice. "I-I'm totally fine—fine."

"Liar." Eli stated simply, then drawing in a quick, sharp breath. "Drew also said your mom said you were out…and some beers were gone. Dude, are you drunk?"

"Nuh-uh, of course not," Adam lied, though his slur in words was more than obvious.

"So…you wouldn't mind if I came and picked you up? Checked up on you, wherever you are?"

"Well, yeah, I would." Adam said defensively. "It hurts you d-don't trust me. I'm fine, s-s-seriously."

"Mmhmm," Eli said sarcastically. "Right. Now, tell me where you are." Adam couldn't take it—he felt as if he was going to pass out, and if that was the case and the police came…well, the after-effects wouldn't be pretty.

"I-I'm at the park. Y'know, near…near my house," Adam finally sighed, giving up and slumping against the tree.

"I'm coming. Stay there." Eli said quickly, and the familiar click made Adam realize that Eli was on his way. It was all going to be okay. Or so he hoped.

Right before Adam collapsed into a state of drunken sleep, he saw the familiar headlights of Morty. "Adam!" a voice called. It was getting blurry. He felt someone crouch by his side. Someone slapped him lightly on his cheek. Someone cursed. Someone grabbed him, lifted him over his shoulder, and gently set him down in a bed—in reality, it was the back of a hearse, but it was good enough for Adam. "Just stay there, buddy," the voice spoke again. He tried to match the sound with a face…Eli. It was Eli.

"E—Eli?" Adam asked.

"Stay there, Adam. You'll be fine; I swear by it. I won't let you get hurt again, as it seems."

Adam mumbled an incoherent thank you, and then drifted away into a not-so-dreamland.

Pain. Pain coursed through his veins; through his body. He tried opening his eyes. Nope, that wasn't happening. Too much pain to twitch a muscle. And, as he lay lifeless, the memory started to come back to him. Bryce. The party. The beers. Eli. He had to do this; he had to thank Eli… once he figured where Eli was, and more importantly, where he was. He tried to open his eyes, and with as much pain as he could muster, he did. "Mom! Mom, come here! He's awake. Mom!" As Eli's mother came up the stairs, Eli knelt down to get eye-to-eye with Adam. "I told you I wouldn't let you get hurt." Eli smirked. "You'll be fine, Machismo. Just a few bruises and cuts."

"Eli?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"I'll always be here for you, Adam. I swear."