No one really seemed to understand my dependence on music.

I guess they would have expected the daughter of a distinguished martial arts academy to work out all her emotions in the dojo. Specifically on the cinder blocks and the occasional gutsy sparring partner. But hey, what can you do?

To me, music wasn't just a form of entertainment. It was quite literally my life. It was a powerful source of sanity in my screwed up world. It was what made me, well, me.

It's numbing, and it channels my feelings in much more tolerable ways. I don't need interaction with other people; music gives me more than enough feelings. And I don't need to worry about music having ulterior motives.

One thing I've noticed growing up is that people in general just kind of suck. They approach people like me, acting all nice and caring, when everything about them just says they would rather stick pins in their eyes, just because you happen to have something they want. It pisses me off more than anything.

So, I sort of go out of my way to make them keep their distance

I guess you could say that realization sparked my so called "rebellious" phase.

I had stopped trying to be esthetically pleasing by everyone else's standards. To my mother's horror, I took some thinning shears to my hair, and the outcome had my recently long and flowing locks in a bunch of short choppy layers around my ears. It eventually grew back out and I got it professionally done, so now the length is back, just textured and layered down to the small of my back.

My bangs grazed over my eyebrows, and I had actually taken a liking to one of the popular hair trends in the recent years and adopted an ombre on the last few inches. Though I strayed from the mainstream blonde trend and went instead with a vibrant blue, so it contrasted shockingly with the rest of my corn-silk locks.

I had stopped suffering through days of slippery skirts and dresses, and switched over to slimming jeans, ripped shorts, over-sized knit sweaters, tank tops, and various pairs of platform boots. My style was inconsistent and it drove Mama insane.

Instead of delicate gold and silver jewelry, I had taken a liking to stylized laser cut acrylic pendants, latex chokers, and layered glass.

I got a few extra piercings too. One right behind the first one, a tragus, and a helix. I like them, and usually with the way my hair frames my face you can't even see them, but even so, Mama wasn't too thrilled. She always used to nag me to keep my hair out of my face. Now she'd rather I do so they stay hidden. The fact that her little girl was growing up like this didn't sit well with her.

But she came around…eventually.

But she really wasn't worrying for nothing like most parents do.

She probably would have looked the other way so long as it was just an image change. Except, I had become a cold smart ass that had developed some attitude problems. But it's not like it was my fault or anything, people just thought it was fun to pick on me. They always had, even if they wanted something from me.

Eventually, I learned to not really give a crap what people thought or said to my face.

But I had no friends. But it was a small trade-off for a drama free life.

I drove everyone away, including boys, which Mama pointed out more often the necessary. Not that I cared or anything…or so I told myself.

It was always my personal philosophy that boys made life ten times harder than it needed to be, so I didn't want or need one.

That is, until one of them actually asked me out. And damn it, he was hot.

Simon Gauthier, arguably the most attractive guy in the whole school. And Paris, and probably even in the whole of France.

He had hair the color of warm caramel, and eyes like clear polished emerald. In truth, I had always thought he was amazing since he had stuck up for me once when we were in elementary school and I was still spineless, but I'd never admit it out loud.

Until a while ago he had been dating Nicolette Laurent, our school's biggest bitch. She was pretty; you know the classic blond hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin combo. A walking Barbie complete with an entourage of kiss-ass clones and her very own pink Dream House.

But her soul was made of rotted garbage, so I can understand why he dumped her, but I didn't get why he set his sights on me next. I guess it was one of those…"get the polar opposite of your last girlfriend and maybe it will work out" mentalities? Or the fact that he knew Nicolette hated me so the flirting was more of a way to piss her off than it was for any actual interest in me.

But he turned out to be so sweet, that I soon stopped questioning it. I guess my lack of experience showed with the way he was able to make me melt with little to no effort on his part. And here I thought the metaphorical barriers I put up were made of stronger stuff.

And I ended up doing the stupidest thing I possibly could. I decided to trust that he was a nice guy and his feelings towards me were sincere.

The next month was pure bliss.

I had someone who liked me. Someone who liked me but didn't want anything from me other than companionship and a sense of understanding. He would tell me the cheesiest (but sweetest) things. We went out on dates every other night. He stayed my side at all the times he could. He snapped at anyone who insulted me. He even took me out on a dinner cruise for Valentine's Day. He got me to talk, and to feel something for him.

Everything was perfect.

But alas, I got a major reality check. He dumped me exactly one month into our relationship.

My bliss crumbled around me, and I couldn't understand what went wrong. That is, until I found out his friend Louis had bet him a hundred euros that he couldn't stand to date me for a month.

And now that he had successfully met the demands of the bet, he outright told me that he had no need for me. When he stomped all over my heart he made an especially big deal about how he almost hadn't made it, and how it took some major acting on his part not to be repulsed whenever we were together.

Then he went as far as to throw every insult he had shielded me from in the last month back in my face. Somehow I remained clearheaded enough to tell him I'd nominate him for an Oscar before I shut down and let my rage consume me.

I can't really remember doing any of what I did to him. All I know is I had no other outlet for what I was feeling. So I let my instinct take over.

Turns out my instinct was to dislocate as many of Simon's joints as I could get my hands on.

I was horrified (and somewhat awed) at what I had done. But, I had broken the most important rule of our marital artists' code of honor. So because of that, (and some regret for losing my self-control) I realigned all his joints.

It was easier said than done, mostly because Simon was screaming at me not to touch him the whole time, calling me a monster, a bitch, and any other cruel name he could come up with between bursts of pain. I was able to silence him with one cold glare once I was done, and then left him on the ground.

The next day at school was more of a complete and utter hell than usual.

Nicolette wouldn't let me live down that I had been completely fooled. The I was deluded to think anyone could feel something for me that wasn't complete revulsion. It wasn't till it got around what I had done to Simon that they shut her (obviously surgically plumped) lips.

Honestly, if I had been in the mood, I would have told her how much they resembled rotting sausage links, and that she should sue her surgeon for emotional damage.

After this, I surprised myself with how much I sunk into the cold heartless bitch persona. I was constantly angry with everyone around me, even if they didn't do anything. I never spoke in school unless called on in class, or unless spitting out an obtuse insult.

The moments that followed those were the only other times I felt anything other than anger. It was more than a little enjoyable seeing the person you insult go completely blank faced, struggling to come up with a decent comeback.

Most of the time, I just got "right back at you" and "you're a bigger one," which just made them look stupider than if they had just stood there looking confused.

But once Simon came back to school, even those little moments lost their charm.

For the amount of time we spent trying to avoid each other, we saw each other entirely too often. Our school was rather small, which made a mission like never seeing Simon's face again impossible. And the more I saw it, the more I wanted to set a flame thrower on it.

I wanted nothing more than to melt his prefect features so he could never use them to smash someone's heart like he did mine.

The only consolation now was that he seemed more than a little terrified of me, which made it a little less hurtful to think about what happened. Knowing that he had played me like a violin. And that I should have seen it coming. I had just chosen to ignore all the times I saw him talking with Nicolette so I wouldn't seem like a cheap clingy drape. I wanted him to know that I had decided to trust him.

Not that it mattered in the long run anyway. It had bitten me in the ass, and now I had to watch the two of them as they fell back into their relationship, which I guess never really had any problems in the first place. They deserve each other, and watching them was still filling me with emotions that I didn't want to deal with.

So naturally, music became my morphine.

I always had it playing. I floated on a cloud of emotionless bliss throughout the day, from the moment I woke up till late into the morning before I finally had the sense to go to sleep. It numbed me somewhat, keeping me from thinking too much about subjects I wanted to avoid.

I would feel heartbroken for other failed romances, but I refused to feel anything for my own. Even if it was just as fictional as the ones in the lyrics.

But after a while it became clear to me that this time around it wasn't going to work. My morphine was most effective when I was away from them. For me to truly get over this and get on with my life, I needed to get as far away from them as possible.

So of course when Papa gave me the option of coming with him to Japan, I accepted without hesitation.

XXxXX

I hugged my favorite stuffed bunny to my chest as I tangled myself further into my blankets. Usako was a gift from my Grand-mère Joséphine on my seventh birthday. She was made of a pure white Minky material with little patches of pale lavender inside her hears and the bottoms of her feet. But she was also well-worn from years of adventuring with me.

She was my most treasured possession. And one thing that can remind me that I do actually have happy memories. Even if I choose to ignore them most of the time.

I sink deeper into my pillow fortress, pulling the covers up over my head and adjusting my position so I'm not digging the plastic of my ear bud into the shell of my ear. Trying to force myself to relax, I curl Usako back into my chest and wish I was more distracted than I actually was.

I've been feeling more disconnected than usual this morning, and its grating on my nerves that I can't figure out why. There's just an itching feeling in my body that wants me to get up and move. To walk as far away as I possibly can. But my brain ignores it so I have these impulses shooting up and down my legs, which just makes me want to curl up in a ball in hopes that it will go away.

The nagging feeling continues even as I do that. My eyes drifted down to the digital clock on my nightstand, hoping that staring at the harsh neon glow would force them closed so I can get some sleep. But, much like every other time I try for some nice dreamless sleep, all I see is a set of harsh, mocking green eyes and they immediately fly open again.

Sometimes if I'm really unlucky a pair of blue and brown appear alongside the green. My subconscious never got the message that I had removed Simon, Louis, and Nicolette to the farthest corners of my thoughts. I'm angry with myself for not being able to keep them from getting under my skin.

I have been reduced to doing almost nothing on the weekends. I hardly ever leave my room. I'm always tired, and the most thought that I exhaust is about the fact I'm practically eating my weight in chocolate cake.

I do feel the slightest bit guilty about worrying Mama and Papa though. They thought I was sick, even though I kept assuring them over and over that I wasn't. Papa was on a business trip when this started, so he couldn't do much. Mama was on her own for this one.

She eventually stopped asking me to get check-ups, after the first three said nothing was wrong with me. Even though they're not that bright when it comes to me and my emotions, I can tell they still don't completely believe I'm alright. But they've stopped prying, and I'm at least glad for that.

My door creaks open and I shift my head enough to see our head maid Laurine stick her head through the door.

"Miss Amaya, your father wishes to see you in his study," she says in a monotone voice. "Now. If you'd please."

"Alright," I reply sluggishly.

It takes a minute for me to get the will to crawl out of bed, slipping on my Hello Kitty slippers as she closes the door. There are no footsteps to signal that she left, so I guess she's been ordered to escort me back.

I hadn't bothered to get out of my pajamas yet, like most weekends. So I quickly pull on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt that is handing on the back of the chair in front of my vanity table and take a minute to halfheartedly run a brush through my hair. I mean it's just Papa so it's not like I need to make myself that presentable.

Laurine is waiting for me in the hall, like I guessed, and is standing in standard stiff maid posture. I close the door behind me and give her a curt nod. She returns it and breaks off from the floor, and we begin our walk to Papa's study in a silence that's pretty standard for this house.

Laurine is one of our older maids, around her late thirties. She's been looking after me for years now, since Mama couldn't be bothered most of the time. And ironically neither could Laurine. And even worse, with all that she was still probably around for more of my childhood then my actual mother was.

Her hair is a rich chestnut color, beginning to gray here and there. She had stern gray eyes, framed by both laugh and frown lines. Though I've never actually seen her laugh so, I can only take credit for the frown lines.

"Laurine?" I ask stiffly.

"Yes Miss?" she replies as she turns to me.

I squeeze my firsts together and keep my eyes on the floor. I want to know what is so important that Papa would call me to his office the morning after he returned from a business trip. Usually by now he's in Mama's personal spa, trying to wind down before seeing either of us. There's only one reason I can think of.

"Is Papa going away again?"

There is a short silence before Laurine answers me.

"I'm not sure Miss. I heard he was considering a partnership with another martial arts family, but that's all I know."

I nod. So much for 'the maids know everything.'

She stops before opening the door to Papa's study. I look up at her. Then she pats my head somewhat sympathetically, something she hasn't done since I turned twelve. She looks me in the eye (I've stayed 4'11 since I was twelve as well) and gives me a tired smile.

"Don't worry; I don't think he'll be gone as long this time."

I don't recall ever being worried, but I try to smile slightly in return. So she does know something. Pouting usually does the trick.

"Thanks," I say before placing my hand on the doorknob.

She nods and quickly dips into a half curtsy before heading back to supervising the rest of the staff.

I open the door and slip inside. Papa is sitting behind a large desk, fingers flying over his laptop. He looks up, smiling as he sees me.

"Ah! Amaya, ma petite fleur!" he calls.

The corner of my mouth tugs up a little in spite of myself. Papa never let my old nickname go. So to honor that nickname, and the nicer times, I decide to play nice.

"Welcome back Papa" I reply as I walk over.

He gets up to meet me in the middle of the room, and his arms encircle me as he lifts me off the ground, flinging me in a circle. Yeah, I'm seventeen and my dad still flings me around like I'm five. Not that there's much of a difference in my five year old self and me now in the height and weight department.

He soon collapses on the couch, placing me down next to him.

"I missed you papa," I confess.

"I missed you too Amaya," he says as he ruffles my hair. "Have you gotten taller?

"Sadly no," I groan before quickly switching the subject. "How was America?"

"It was nice, the new dojo seems to be in good hands," he replies as he looks down at me. "I'm sorry my trip was extended for so long. I thought I was going to be on schedule this time."

"You are forgiven," I say without really meaning it.

"But I have some news," he says as he ruffles my hair. "An old friend of mine is in need of some assistance training some new students of his. I'm going to be leaving for Japan soon."

"But you just got back," I accuse, not really that surprised. "How long do you plan to be gone this time?"

"It could be anywhere from a year to a year and a half," he admits, though he doesn't seem real conflicted about it. "But, I wanted to know if you and your mother would be interested in accompanying me this time."

"Seriously?"

My heart dares to soar as he nods. I've been wanting to leave. But this seemed almost too easy. I was planning on hiding out in Grand-mère Joséphine's summer cottage in Nice until I figured out what to do with myself. But a different country was even more appealing. It made my strategy easier. Those three could always show up in Nice after all.

"Yes! I want to go!" I reply breathlessly.

"Ma petite fleur, you realize you'll be transferring to a new school right?" Papa asks, obviously not expecting the sudden decision. "We won't be doing home schooling like our last visit. And we won't be staying with your grandparents; we'll be living with my friend and his family."

I nod vigorously, not really listening.

"Well I guess you will know someone at your new school," Papa muses. "My friend has two sons, and one is around your age."

I nod without really listening.

"Alright Papa I think I can manage."

"Well I guess I better make arrangements to pull you out of school," he says. "We'll be leaving as soon as possible. So I'll need you to start packing, we're aiming to leave late tomorrow night."

I almost jumped for joy. Leaving as soon as possible. Music to my ears.

"Alright Papa! See you at dinner!" I yell over my shoulder as I scramble up from my seat. I bolt across the room and down the hallway, leaving him startled at my sudden burst of energy.

This was better than I could have hoped for.

I slam my bedroom door closed, and headed for my bed. I retrieve my black and blue suit case set from the depths of my closet and fling them all open on my bed.

My mood lifts as a more upbeat song blasts from the surround-sound speakers, and I find myself singing along as I try to fit my room of organized chaos into seven suitcases. It sounds impossible, but it's actually a rather soothing distraction from all this crap that's happened in these past few months.

I'm going to start a new life, hopefully one with more time with my parents. I'm going to a new school with new open minded people who have no previous impression of me. I find myself with an honest to god spring in my step as I run around my room tossing the clothes that are scattered around the floor into the hamper and transfer my clean ones from my draws to the cases.

This is the chance I've been waiting for, and I won't under any circumstances let myself screw it up.

Love is over rated. I don't need it. My philosophy was proven right by Simon, so all I need to do is keep that in the back of my mind as a lesson learned the hard way.

No boyfriends.

Not that I actually believe that there is anyone that can manage to find anything about me appealing in my current state.

XXx Author's Notes xXX

Hey there guys! So you might notice…there have been some changes to the story…

Well you see it all started on a bus ride up to a classical choral competition. I was so bored I decided to read my own fanfic. Then I realized there were so many mistakes and inconsistencies that it made me want to gag.

So I'm going to fix them since I'm currently stuck on chapter 26. Hopefully my thunder will return. I'm trying to do one a day, so please bear with me.

I changed Aya's bunny's name to Usako…cuz I know I was imaginative when my seven year old self named my stuffed animals, plus there's the whole Usa-chan thing Honey has going on there…

For her nanny, Elizabeth sounded to British to me, so I went with Laurine.

And then her height. I realized that 4'9 and 5'1 is a bigger height difference than I thought =_=; (see kids this is why you should pay attention in math (notice I said should)) so I shrunk her down to 4'11.

Ummmm….I think that's it! I'll try to do the next chapter re-vamp as quick as possible.

See you guys next time!

Lotsa love, Krystal ^^