A Test of Faith
FANG'S POV:
I see her in the kitchen. She's sitting at the table, leaning over a laptop. My hawk-like ears pick up the faint sounds of crying.
I hate doing this to her. I hate making her suffer. But I must complete the test.
It's been a month. The test is supposed to be six, but I doubt I'll make it that long. Eventually, I' just going to fly down and let her know I'm okay, that I only left to see if she really loved me. I hate Iggy for this idea.
I've been staying in a fan of mine's house. Her name is Elena. She has a twin sister, Kaylee. She's 18. I know she wants me to make a move, but the age difference isn't the only reason I see her more as a landlady than a potential girlfriend.
Now Max is moving. I look to find the reason, and he's walking in the door. Dylan. The reason I started the test.
Dr. God, as Max calls him, made him. He was meant to be her perfect other half. I know Max. She won't start loving a complete stranger. I guess her curtness led to my "death."
Yeah, I was dead for about five minutes. A drug testing gone wrong. While I was fighting that stupid light at the end of the tunnel, I heard Max's voice. "Don't you dare die on me! I will kill you if you do! I…I need you, Fang. I love you. Did you hear that?" Few moments later, I wake up with my head throbbing, and Max sobbing all over my good AC/DC shirt.
After that, I began wondering if she had really said that. You never know, I guess.
MAX'S POV:
I know he's watching me. Angel filled me in the 12th time he came back. So why does he need to test me?
Mr. Flying Ken Doll over there is now trying to talk me into just watching a movie or something. He wishes.
Angel is Head-talking to me now. She says Fang wonders if I really said "I love you" when he was dead.
Why would he doubt it? Angel also mentioned something about a stupid light at the end of a tunnel.
I've hated Fang these past few weeks. He goes off in the middle of Total's wedding and leaves only the saddest letter ever written. If Iggy starts crying, it's got to be sad. He just doesn't cry.
Jeb says I'm going into "Chronic depression," and that he plans to hire a psychiatrist if I don't start getting over Fang. It's hard though. I've resorted to listening to Justin Bieber, so that proves I'm desperate to hear someone say things like "I love you" to me.
Oh, great. Angel's telling me that she's got a new talent. Joy.