Jessica Riley's Life

by Crystalteen

According to Jessica Riley, "When something is broken, there's always the possibility that it can be fixed ... but not me." Jess is tired of battling against the depression that has been stalking her ever since the life-changing events that took place on Blackwood Mountain. So, she decides to live this last day before planning to commit suicide. (Sneak Peek/One-Shot).

A/N: Hey, everyone! Crystalteen here!

By any chance, if anyone that's reading this is a fan of my other Until Dawn story "Return to Blackwood Mountain," allow me to assure you all that I'm still writing it. I understand that I haven't updated anything in almost four months, but that's only because I've been caught up in handling my first year at college. I'm constantly working on assignments and I'm still trying to get used to all of the changes, so please bear with me. Nothing is going to stop me from writing. I'll update "Return to Blackwood Mountain" whenever I find the time to keep up with the next chapter.

In the meantime, here's another sneak peek/one-shot that came to me from the top of my head. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts on it, whether you post them in the reviews or PM them to me.

Note: This includes my sneak peek "Mending Hearts" (as "Mending Hearts" was originally made as part of this story) and is meant to be seen as an extra, prolonged sneak peek. This also isn't at all connected with "Return to Blackwood Mountain." With this being said, this one-shot contains no spoilers or hints for any future chapters and/or other possible stories. My OC's also aren't part of this one-shot.

Summary: According to Jessica Riley, "When something is broken, there's always the possibility that it can be fixed ... but not me." Jess is tired of battling against the depression that has been stalking her ever since the life-changing events that took place on Blackwood Mountain. So, she decides to live this last day before planning to commit suicide.

Make sure to share your thoughts, everybody! I always look forward to feedback! Happy reading now!

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Jessica's POV

MAY 13, 2015

THE RILEY RESIDENTS

19:00

I laid on top of my unmade bed, listening to the the song O' Death by Amy Van Roekel on my iPod. It was blasting at full volume through my lavender headphones, preventing me from hearing any other possible noises that was going on around me. My eyes were screwed shut and my throat felt completely strained, as if I had a severe case of strep. I was using every last shred of what was left of my composure to stick to the plan and not break down. I couldn't allow myself to cry ... at least, not right now. Before taking care of what desperately needed to be done, there were two more tasks that I had to make sure that I handled.

It's been three months since all of my friends—excluding Josh—and I had escaped from that living hell on Blackwood Mountain. I would say that a lot has happened since then, but using a term like "a lot" wouldn't even begin to describe all of the shit that has entered my life and caused it to turn upside down. To be completely frank, after surviving until dawn and being given permission by both the police and hospital staff to return to my home in the suburbs, I was never physically or mentally the same. I mean, who would be after going through a whole night that involved you being dropped down an elevator shaft and left to fend for yourself for a majority of the time in a maze of cold, dark, abandoned caves after being kidnapped by some terrifying, mutated, cannibalistic creature that nobody believed you about?

That night, I received dozens of bruises, welts, scratches, and some broken ribs that had managed to heal over time. Unfortunately, there were five cuts on my face that had been in urgent need of stitches. Because of this, I was left with five, unbelievably red, ugly-ass scars that I had no choice but to carry with me as one of the many god-awful reminders of that winter getaway. One was marked directly below the corner of my left eye, while another sliced down the center of my chin, making it look like it was separated into two equal parts. The third scar was slashed across the bridge of my nose, and the fourth was printed lopsidedly across the middle of my right cheek. Finally, the last permanent wound was etched over my forehead. It was the most noticeable one, stretching all the way from the center of my forehead to my right temple.

Then, to ruin my life even more, the doctors confirmed after preforming a series of tests and X-rays that I had also received permanent damage to the lower part of my spinal cord. The lower nerves had been severely ruptured, but by some miracle, there was no damage done to the top half of my spine. This meant that I could still walk, but not without the help of crutches and this procedure that I had gotten done just two days after getting off the mountain, in which the doctors fused the pieces of bone that had been broken towards the bottom of my spine. This, by the way, left another scar on my body.

Finally, the medical crew thought that it was essential for me to attend both physical therapy and normal therapy ... and after my father got permission to watch my interview with the Blackwood officers, he agreed. Of course, this meant that I had been prescribed a variety of medications that were meant to assist me with my bones, muscles, sleeping patterns, and especially, my emotions. As of now, the top two prescriptions that were being given to me were antidepressants and this fancy type of pill that was supposed to help increase my appetite since my eating habits had changed drastically since I got off the mountain.

I had to take all of them at specific times three times a day, which sucked ass since all they really did was make me want to throw up and stay in bed even more. In case it isn't already obvious, I lacked so much energy to the point where I literally couldn't remember what it was like to feel genuinely happy. It has been this way for almost the entire three months ... and, needless to say, it was pure torture.

"O, I am Death, and none can tell. If I open the door to heaven or hell~" I exhaled through my nose a little shakily, sinking myself even deeper into the lyrics. "No wealth, no land, no silver, no gold. Nothing satisfies me but your soul. O, I am Death, I come to take the soul. Leave the body and leave it cold~"

Suddenly, I felt a hand grab my arm and shake it. My eyes instantly popped open and a startled gasp lurched out of my throat as I shot up so fast to the point where I accidentally yanked out one of my headphones. Then, when I turned my head, I saw that it was only my seven-year-old twin brothers, Travis and Cameron. They were standing beside my bed, leaning themselves against the edge of the mattress and blinking at me like a pair of lost puppies.

The two of them were totally identical, possessing porcelain skin like our dad, ginger hair like our mom, and slim builds since they were both constantly outside, playing baseball, practicing their soccer, and jumping on the trampoline in the backyard. Actually, there was only one tiny difference that helped those who struggled with telling them apart: Cameron had Hershey-colored eyes, while Travis's eyes were the same shade of green as mine.

Normally, I would've scolded the two of them for even thinking that it was okay for them to wander into my room and invade my personal space ... but today was different.

"Oh my God ... Cameron, Travis..." I sighed heavily in a mixture of relief and slight annoyance, feeling my heart running a marathon in my chest. "How many times do I have to tell the two of you to not sneak up on me like that?"

"Sorry, Jessica." Travis apologized in a somewhat sincere tone as he fiddled around with one of the corner edges of my pink and white striped comforter.

At the same time, Cameron stood up on his tiptoes and curiously batted his lashes at my iPod. "What are you listening to?" He asked, catching a peek of the skull-themed album cover that was on the screen.

In that moment, I remembered that I had the volume turned up as high as it could go, so my little brothers were able to hear every word that was being sung. This didn't bother me since the two of them were definitely too young to understand any of the meanings behind the lyrics ... but what did bother me was the fact that I was using this song to help keep me prepared for what was going to happen later and I didn't want my brothers to listen to it.

"Nothing." I answered convincingly, at which I stopped the song, pulled out my other headphone, clicked the screen off, and sat my iPod on my nightstand. "Now, what exactly are you two doing in my room?"

Cameron glanced over at Travis, who had pointed over in the direction of my door. It was now cracked open, which made me want to smack myself over the head from forgetting to lock it.

"Mom told us to come up here to get you for dinner." Travis informed. "Dad's just about to get our plates ready and she wants you to hurry so the food won't get cold."

I shook my head to myself, unable to resist rolling my eyes a little.

Back on the mountain, just moments before everything became a living nightmare, I had confessed to my ex-boyfriend, Mike—who, regrettably, didn't survive until dawn—that I was an insecure person ... but what I didn't tell him was the fact that it was because of how my mom spoke to me. She actually made Cinderella's stepmother look like an angel, courtesy of how she criticized me for every little thing, barely lifted a finger around the house, and talked down to my dad on a daily basis. Not only that, but she was a huge control freak who was obsessed with acting like our family was as wealthy as the Washington's. As a result of this, she spent money whenever she felt like it and on whatever she wanted, regardless of what my father thought. A majority of her paychecks from her job down at the nail salon went to hair appointments, new glitzy outfits, and trips to the spa. I'm not going to lie, she was a beautiful woman ... but she was also so damn selfish and pessimistic.

She's been like this for her entire life, causing me to become her little clone. For years, I had been living my life according to the main lesson that my mom had taught me from a young age: "As long as you keep that face pampered and your figure thin, you won't have to worry about chasing after anything in life because it will all come running towards you." Because of this, I had treated plenty of people like I was far more superior than they would ever be, despite how I still felt secretly embarrassed and ashamed whenever my mom would target me with one of her judgmental rampages.

But ever since I returned from Blackwood, I haven't been taking my mother's "constructive criticism" like I have in the past. Back then, regardless of the humiliation that I had building up inside of me, I was still able to get through every single day with a conceited smile on my face and a sturdy look in my eyes ... but now, the embarrassment was nothing but indescribable pain and torment.

My dad was an entirely different story. He was incredibly hardworking, encouraging, and the type of man who couldn't go a day without having a flirtatious smirk, wink, or wave sent in his direction. He would do anything for his family, which—if I had to guess—was the main reason behind why he always put up with Mom's self-centered behavior. Thanks to him, three square meals were placed on the table everyday, every inch of the house was spotless, the bills got paid, and my brothers never had to worry about not having a reason to look up in the bleachers during their soccer tournaments.

Not only that, but my father was striding to become an author. He'd already written a couple of mystery and romance novels, but since the few publishers that he had managed to get in contact with were complete assholes, none of them had been officially published yet. However, this wasn't the only reason as to why that dream of Dad's had to be put on hold. Due to the additional costs of all of my medication, as well as both sets of therapy and my constant hospital checkups, he had to get a third job. His main job revolved around him being an EMT, while he held the position of a substitute teacher for his second job. Now, all because of me, he served as the janitor for another high school during the weeknights.

Clearly, my father wanted nothing more than to ensure that his family was happy, healthy, and safe ... but what he—as well as everybody else in my life—failed to see was that I was nowhere near any of those things...

I rubbed the back of my neck a little uneasily, just now remembering that my brothers were in my presence and waiting for me to say something else.

"Ah, right. Dinner." I murmured, just as I carefully started turning my body so I could get myself ready to stand up.

Like usual, a sharp, unpleasant, aching sensation started rocketing back and forth across the lower part of my back that was just a smidge above my tailbone. It caused me to freeze for a brief moment, in which I clenched my teeth and cringed. Then, while slowing my movements down even more, I was able to gradually lower my right leg over the edge of my bed before doing the same thing with my left leg.

"Alright..." I breathed a sigh of discomfort and stared at my younger siblings, suddenly sounding dreary. "Before we go down, I have something to give to the two of you ... but first, get my crutches for me, please."

I couldn't tell if Cameron and Travis looked more confused or surprised by how I told them that I had something for them. The only time of year that I got either of them anything was their birthday and sometimes Christmas, but neither of them bothered to question me. Instead, after exchanging their curious expressions, they quickly scampered over to where my crutches were. One of them was lounging between my dresser and the wall, but the other had somehow lost its balance and tipped over, resulting in it spending a majority of the day on the floor beside the wicker trash bin. Both of my brothers each grabbed one and carried them back over to me.

"Thank you." I said as I leaned the beige crutches back against my nightstand, right before I pat the mattress on both sides of me. "Now, a deal's a deal. Climb up so you both can get your gifts."

Being the more shy and reluctant twin, Cameron stood still and stared at me in astonishment. It was obvious that he couldn't believe that I'd just given him and Cameron actual permission to climb up on my bed, considering there were plenty of times in the past in which I yelled at them and even chased them throughout the house after I caught them sneaking into my room to either jump on my bed or steal my pillows to use in building a fort. Travis, on the other hand, broke out into an excited grin and immediately followed my instructions.

"You actually have presents for us, Jess?" Travis asked as he quickly, but carefully, hopped up onto the mattress and sat down like an Indian at my left side.

My lips twitched, forming a small, gloomy-looking smile. "Yep." I replied with a faint nod and little energy, popping the 'p' lightly.

As this happened, Cameron followed Travis's example and, after managing to get on top of the bed, sat on his knees on my other side.

"What are they?" Cameron then asked, looking up at me with a mixture of happiness and curiosity twinkling in his eyes.

A familiar heaviness ever so slowly started to weigh down on my heart. Nonetheless, even though I was nowhere near in the mood to smile, I kept my dull grin on my face as I very carefully twisted myself just a tiny bit at the waist in order to reach behind me. Once again, twinges of pain shot through my lower back like little sparks of electricity. I fought the urge to wince and reached my hand underneath my thick blanket, right before I pulled out this cute, fluffy, medium-sized stuffed tiger that I'd had in my life ever since I was thirteen. It was something very personal to me, considering it was given to me by Mike after he had won it for me at a carnival. We hadn't been romantically interested in each other at the time, but he still cared about me to the point where he sacrificed plenty of his valuable time and money in order to get this simple stuffed toy for me.

I hadn't let that tiger out of my sight for years, practically putting it on a pedestal from loving it so much ... but considering what I was going to do later on, I knew that it was time to let this possession go.

"Well, for you..." I said to Cameron, right before I held the plush tiger out to him. "I have this."

My first little brother's mouth instantly fell open. A soft, surprised gasp escaped from his system. His eyes grew and glistened with awe as he stared back into the large, phony, pale yellow eyes of the stuffed animal. Ever since the day in which I brought this thing home from the carnival, it had captivated Cameron's interest like a giant piece of candy. He absolutely adored wildlife, but no matter how many times he asked me if he could play with my gift from Mike, I would glare at him, reply with a firm no, and coldly order him to keep his grubby little fingers to himself. Yet, here I was, actually handing the toy over after all these years.

"Bonbon?" Cameron inquired, reminding me of the terribly cliche name that I had picked out for the tiger due to my past obsession for that specific candy. "You're ... you're giving him to me?"

I watched as he delicately took Bonbon from me, treating him as if he were made out of glass. As this happened, I quietly drew in a deep breath through my nose and tried to ignore the sharp pinching sensation that was starting to occur around the edge of my heart. The entire time, I forced my phony smile to stay put, and I softly nodded my head at Cameron.

"Yeah, I am." I replied, secretly forcing those words out of my throat as I released the air. "It recently came to my realization that I've had him all to myself for a good six years ... so, I thought that it was about time for him to get a new home."

Cameron rested the butt of the stuffed animal on his lap and studied its face, hesitating for a brief moment. Then, after he gently stroked its head and felt the soft hairs slide through his fingers, a delighted grin broke out widely across his face and he let out a giggle as he reeled Bonbon in closer to his chest, giving him a hug. At last, with the tiger's head nuzzled up against the bottom of his chin, Cameron redirected his attention over to me with twinkling eyes.

"Wow, Jess! Thank you so much!" He said in a tone that was both overjoyed and bashful.

I wish that I could say that seeing him like that made my heart jump with joy ... but I can't. By this point, I'm afraid that it was impossible for me to feel any positive emotions.

So, with a weak grin still masking my face and my voice still lacking enthusiasm, I said back, "No problem, Cam."

"Jessica, Jessica!" Travis grabbed my arm with both of his hands and squeezed it, practically bouncing in excitement. "What about me? What do you have for me?"

"Your present is right here, Travis." Upon saying that, I stretched my other arm over to the cream-colored headboard—secretly relieved that I didn't have to make as many movements as I had to when I was retrieving Bonbon for Cameron—and I slipped my hand underneath one of the many oversized pillows. After a couple of seconds of feeling around, I successfully hooked my fingers around my plush item, pulled it out, and handed it over to Travis.

It was Snowball, the stuffed white seal with sapphire-blue eyes that I've had ever since I was a newborn. Throughout my childhood, Snowball was there for every tea party, every dance recital, every imaginary fashion show, every nerve-wracking first day of school ... and the list really could go on for miles. I hardly went anywhere without him, sometimes even pushing him on the old swing set that was still in the backyard and convincing my dad to set a place for him at the dining table almost every evening. Then, ever since my brothers came into the picture and learned how to crawl, Travis always seemed to have an eye on Snowball. For as long as I could remember, he's always had a strong admiration for aquatic animals. So, since my clock was ticking ... I couldn't think of anything better to give to him.

Travis's jaw dropped and his eyes shimmered like shooting stars, as if I had just presented him with the largest diamond in all of existence. It took a couple of seconds, but a large, toothy, ear-to-ear grin eventually managed explode across Travis's face.

"Oh my gosh! It's Snowball! I can't believe it!" He practically squealed with joy, right before he threw his arms around my midsection and hugged me as tightly as he could without causing me any pain. "Thank you, Jessica! Thank you, thank you! You're the best big sister anyone could ever ask for!"

I stared down at him in surprise, feeling my heart starting to throb after digesting those words. It took me a moment—despite how that moment felt like an eternity— but I eventually managed to raise my hand and place it delicately on top of Travis's head. Afterwards, I started to lightly brush my thumb through his hair. I might've looked nonchalant on the outside, but on the inside ... I was hurting even more.

Suddenly, I felt Cameron grab my sleeve and give it a small tug. I looked down at him, only to see that he was starting to look a little hesitant again.

"Are you sure that it's okay for us to have these, Jess?" A small, unsure pout molded its way across Cameron's lips. "I mean ... you love Bonbon and Snowball."

I pressed my lips together, making them form a straight line in order to prevent them from transforming into a frown. Shortly after this, I positioned my opposite hand on top of Cameron's head and began to stroke his hair like I had been doing to Travis.

"Yeah, that's true. I do love them." I said with genuine honesty, flicking my gaze back and forth between my brothers. "But I love the two of you much more."

Almost immediately after those words left my mouth, wide smiles appeared on the twins' faces and both of them embraced me. In return, I wrapped my arms around their backs and squeezed them, also feeling Snowball and Bonbon one final time. My heart started to ache again in my chest, as if it was getting stabbed repeatedly by a sharp needle. As this happened, I screwed my eyes shut and kept the hug going on, loathing how I hadn't taken the time to embrace my little brothers more often in the past.

"We love you too, Jessica!" Cameron proclaimed cheerfully, while Travis started giggling a little from feeling so delighted.

It was getting more and more difficult for me to submerge the temptation to sob. I could feel hot water already beginning to weld up in the rims of my eyes, which resulted in me squeezing them shut even tighter in order to force all of the tears to dry up. Unfortunately, there was still a single teardrop that had managed to sneak out from the corner of my right eye and slowly drip down my cheek. A sniffle made it about halfway up my throat before I choked it back down, and I allowed myself to savor my embrace with Travis and Cameron for a couple of more seconds.

"Okay, Jess..." I mentally sighed, feeling the coolness of the tear race further down my warm face. "You know that you can't keep holding onto them like this. It's ... it's time to let go..."

I finally untangled my arms from around my little brothers and quickly wiped away the single teardrop before either of them could lean away in time to notice it.

"Well, we better get downstairs before Mom has a cow." I pointed out as I watched my siblings hold their new toys close to their chests. "Go on without me, okay? I'll be down in a minute."

"Alright, Jess!" Travis and Cameron said simultaneously.

After that, they planted quick little kisses against my cheeks, hopped down from my bed, and happily chased each other out of my bedroom, taking Snowball and Bonbon with them. As soon as they were out of sight, I dropped my phony grin, slumped my shoulders, and released a disheartened sigh that made even my lungs feel like shedding tears. I made sure to wait until I heard the sound of my brothers' footsteps skipping down the stairs before I reached over to my nightstand. Then, after grabbing a gel pen from the glittery holder that was beside my lamp, I uncapped it and moved aside my alarm clock to reveal something that I had hidden underneath it months prior. It was a floral notepad that had a long checklist written on it, at which everything, aside from the final two tasks, were already checked off.

While softly exhaling through my nose, I checked off the tiny box that had the words "Give Travis & Cameron Your Beloved Bonbon & Snowball" printed beside it. I couldn't help but notice how my hand was trembling a little as I did this, causing the tip of the checkmark to clash into the G in Give.

"Looks like I'm down to my final wish..." I mumbled under my breath, unable to tell whether I sounded more scared, disappointed, or deflated.

I lowered my attention down to the last, unmarked desire: "Have Pleasant Dinner With Family."

Doubt immediately started to swirl around inside of my gut, making my intestines feel like they had become heavier than lead. I tightened my grip a little on the gel pen and let out a vague, depressed scoff. My face was blank, but the pain was still visible to anyone who tried hard enough to see it behind my eyes.

"I don't think there's ever been a time in which my family and I have gotten through a proper meal together. Not even on Thanksgiving or Christmas." I muttered, at which my stomach released a low grumble to remind me of just how hungry I was. "But I guess all I can do now is use the last, teeny-weeny shred of hope that I have somewhere inside of me and get this over with."

I placed the cap back on the pen, dropped it back into its holder, and repositioned my alarm clock back on top of the checklist so it was, once again, hidden from view. After that, I grabbed my damn crutches from where they were still leaning against my nightstand, secured the metal cuffs around my forearms, and positioned my hands on the grips. At last, while dropping the F-bomb through a strained grunt, I used as much strength as I could in order to push the rubber tips against the floor and get my sore body up from the queen-size bed.

I immediately placed all of my weight on the crutches and bent my knees just a tad, courtesy of how I was completely unable to support myself anymore. Then, I followed the same lousy instructions that my physical therapist had went over God knows how many times during our first couple of shitty appointments. First, I advanced both crutches forward and ensured that my grasp was firm on the grips. Following that, I forced every last pound that I had down on the two crutches and swung both of my legs forward as carefully as possible. When they made it past the crutches, I delicately placed the pads of my maroon-painted toes against the floor before lowering my bare arches and heels afterwards.

This method of getting around was unbelievably boring, irritating, and time-consuming, but it was essential for me to follow. If I jerked myself forward too quickly, tried handling too much of my weight on my own, or even just brought my feet down too roughly against the ground, I had the risk of damaging the fragile pieces of my lower spine that had previously been fused back together. If that happened, I would face greater chances of having spinal fluid drip out—which, of course, is incredibly dangerous—and I could've even caused disturbances to the parts of my spine that had somehow managed to get through that hellish night on Blackwood Mountain without shattering. So, I wasn't going to take any chances ... even though I was running out of time for it to even matter.

I rode my crutches over to my makeup table, only because I wanted to get a look at myself in the vanity mirror that was connected to it. Ironically, instead of beauty products, my makeup table was mainly covered by my prescriptions. There were also a couple of framed pictures of me and my friends that my father had taken the liberty of placing among the cluttered sea of small, orange, medical bottles in order to make it seem less depressing. Not only that, but he had relocated my makeup table so it was now sitting directly in front of the window. With the view of the entire fenced-in backyard provided, I could tell that this was another attempt of his to make me perk up ... even though I now left my blinds shut a majority of the time. Although, since today would be my last time ever being able to see the view, I decided to leave them cracked open.

The sun was starting to set, filling the sky with multiple shades of red, orange, yellow, and pink. Since all of the lights in my room were off, everything—including myself—was being illuminated by these vibrant colors as they slipped through the cracks of the blinds. Yet, I could no longer see the beauty that I used to see all the time during sunsets. Instead, my attention was drawn to Paul, the cute nineteen-year-old gardener with dark tanned skin, naturally grey eyes, and jet-black hair that he currently had pulled back in a small man-bun. When my mother first hired him to maintain the shrubs and flowerbeds, he almost instantly developed a crush on me; but he eventually dropped it after letting it pass through his skull that I wasn't interested. Since we were introduced to each other just two days after Mike's funeral, I couldn't bear with even the thought of moving on at the time. So, Paul just became another friend.

Suddenly, as if he could sense me staring at him, the gardener yanked out one final weed from the soil before he turned his head in the direction of the house and glanced up at my bedroom window. Despite how there was distance between us, it really did feel like his eyes had managed to make perfect contact with mine. At the sight of me, a happy-go-lucky grin appeared on Paul's sweaty face and he raised a gloved hand, waving up in my direction. In return, I forced a tiny smile across my aching lips and gave a weak wave back, not wanting to stir any concerns. Luckily, I didn't.

Paul went back to work, grabbing the nearby watering can and hovering it over my mom's deeply cherished begonias. At the same time, my fake grin vanished into thin air and I flicked my gaze down to the vanity mirror. My eyes were dull and there was no specific expression on my face as I stared at my reflection. My hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail with a few stray strands hanging sloppily at the sides of my face. Aside from that, I was wearing an oversized black sweatshirt that had the lion logo from the band Sheppard printed on it and a pair of grey sweatpants that didn't exactly cling to my figure, but also didn't sag. The five, bright red scars that I had received from my Wendigo attack were also completely exposed on my porcelain face; and lastly, around my eyes, black mascara and eyeliner were horribly smeared since I had cried myself to sleep last night.

"Oh, God..." I groaned, cringing at how awful I looked. "I look disgusting ... like I haven't bathed in a week or something."

With a sigh, I reached down and grabbed a disposable facial cloth from the container that was resting beside my exclusive makeup kit. Then, while redirecting my attention to the mirror, I tried wiping off as much of the messy makeup as possible. This wasn't as easy as it sounded, considering the damp cloth only seemed to smudge the eyeliner and mascara even more.

"Ugh ... for shit's sake ... dammit..." I grumbled, evidently displeased at how the cloth was making me start to look like a runny raccoon. "I hate these cheap-ass wipes ... screw 'em..."

I crumpled the cloth up and tossed it into the nearby trash bin ... but then, from the corner of my eye, something caught my attention. Tucked into the upper right corner of the vanity mirror, there was a photo of me and Mike. He had taken it of us during our first date, which revolved around the two of us cuddling in one of the booths at Olive Garden while waiting for the waitress to return with our food.

I was flashing a wide, sexy smile and showing off my confidence by wearing a lacy, pastel purple, knee-length sundress that perfectly embraced all of my curves. My face was gorgeous with no blemishes, zits, or scars interfering with anything. My lips stood out from the rest of my creamy features nicely, painted a bold shade of red, and my beige-blonde hair was pulled back in a remarkably curled bun. Mike had his arm wrapped around my waist, keeping me held close to his side while holding one of the buttery bread sticks between his teeth like a cigar. Pride shimmered in his pale brown eyes, while amusement glimmered in my vibrant green ones. He held the camera out at a certain angle, capturing the moment perfectly ... and til' this day, I've never forgotten it.

A large frown cracked across my face, causing my cheeks to hurt. Not surprisingly, I still had a very difficult time believing that Mike—along with Josh—was gone from the world. It upsetted me ... but at the same time, there was a thought that made me feel guilty. As much as I truly did miss my ex-boyfriend, I knew deep down inside that I wouldn't have gotten the chance to grow so close to Matt if he had survived with the rest of the group. Throughout these past three months, I've been through so many experiences with that jock. I remembered every little detail as clear as day, including everything that had occurred when I first found out about Mike's death.

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THREE MONTHS EARLIER...

FEBRUARY 3, 2015

BLACKWOOD COUNTY HOSPITAL

23:00

I stirred and cracked my eyes open, wincing at the intense amount of pain that was electrocuting through a majority of my body. My ribs felt like they had been trampled by a stampede of horses and my face was stinging, as if it had been stung by a swarm of bees. Not only that, but I couldn't feel hardly anything below my waist, nor did I have the energy to even try moving my legs. My lips were dry, my throat was scratchy, my brain felt like it was being invaded by a pounding drum, and my vision wouldn't stop flickering back and forth from blurry to clear.

Eventually, my eyesight stopped messing around. The first thing that I saw was a large window that had the blinds half drawn with cheap, ugly, checkered curtains hanging at the sides. It was pitch black outside, but there must've been a nearby light somewhere out there because I could easily make out what was most definitely snow spitting down and spiraling out of control in a variety of crazy patterns. I could also hear the sound of the icy wind shrieking through the air and rattling hundreds of branches around, scratching the leaves together. Aside from that, there was another noise—a constant beeping that was coming from a heart monitor.

I dragged out a low, aching, raspy groan. "The hell...?" I then whispered to myself with slight confusion dripping from my voice.

My attention was lured over to a circular mirror that was to the far left of the window, surrounded by a few, small, tacky pictures of butterflies and ladybugs. It hovered above a line of counters, which were covered by at least ten, small, neatly organized cards, some teddy bears, a few boxes of chocolates, and three bouquets of balloons that had the messages "Get Well Soon!" and "Feel Better!" printed in neon letters on almost all of them.

Thanks to the single fluorescent light that was faintly turned on above my head, I could see my reflection. Until now, I hadn't noticed that I was lying in a hospital bed that had been perfectly aligned so I was almost entirely sitting up. Not only that, but I was wearing a loose, breezy, mint green patient's gown and everything above my eyebrows was concealed by white bandages. Furthermore, my once cute Dutch braids were disheveled and my arms were completely riddled with black, blue, and purple blotches. Then, there was my face. It was accompanied by nasty-ass welts and at least fifteen stitches, which were holding together five separate splits in my skin. Each of them had become an indescribable shade of red and were, needless to say, absolutely hideous.

On one side of me, there was an IV. It had brought to my attention that there was a needle in my hand, connected to a tube that ran up to a bladder bag. That automatically gave it away that I was being given fluids, medication, or both. As for the other side of me, there was the heart monitor. It had a series of wires and other devices bonded to it. Some of the wires were slipped underneath the cotton blanket that was covering me, along with my hospital gown, and stuck to specific areas around my left breast. I could also feel that there were more bandages wrapped around my waist and lower ribs, making it even more difficult for me to move. Then, at last, there was a long, translucent, medical tube that ran up my chest, split just below the bottom of my neck, draped around my ears, and rejoined at the nubbins that stuck up my nostrils. Courtesy of John Green's "The Fault In Our Stars," I knew that it was called a cannula, and it was delivering oxygen to me from a tank that was sitting beside the heart monitor.

"A hospital? ... What the shit?" I raised my needled hand up to my forehead and pressed it lightly against the gauze, screwing my eyes shut in discomfort as I let out another groan. "How in the hell did I end up here?"

I grinded my teeth for a moment, right before I popped my eyes back open and saw something that I definitely didn't expect. There was somebody lying at the foot of the bed, resting their head against their right arm with a quilt wrapped around their shoulders and their other arm positioned in a sling. At first, my heart skipped a beat at the thought of it being Mike; but after a couple of more seconds, my eyes finished adjusting to the dimness of the hospital room and it came to my realization that it was actually ... Matt.

I blinked in a mixture of confusion and surprise, watching him breathe deeply and peacefully.

"Matt?" I whispered to myself, pausing to digest what I was seeing before I raised my voice a couple of notches. "Hey, Matt! ... Matt, wake up!"

The jock's body jolted a little and his groggy eyes immediately opened halfway, just as he let out a noise that sounded like something between a stir and a snore. It almost instantly came to my attention that he was unable to fully open his left eye, considering how it was horribly swollen. He also had a medium-sized gash printed directly at the left end of his right eyebrow, along with a small split towards the right corner of his lower lip. Bruises, a single welt across his jaw, and what looked like a few smudges of dirt were also dotted along his face. Plus, there was some gauze plastered over his left cheek, where I could vaguely remember he had received a severe cut.

Lastly, as Matt hazily sat up in the chair that he was sitting in and rubbed his unharmed eye, I saw that he too was wearing a patient's gown—which would've matched mine perfectly if his hadn't been pastel blue—with his dirtied Letterman jacket hanging on by the arm that wasn't in a sling. At the sight of his battered appearance, all of the horrific events came crashing back to the front of my mind like a tsunami.

First, we were chased through a series of rundown caves by a damn monster that looked like something straight out of a bloodcurdling nightmare and forced to stand completely still on the side of a cliff in order to prevent it from noticing us. It was almost like I could still feel my bare skin growing more and more numb with every passing second, considering I only had my underwear and a tattered green jacket protecting me from the intense winter conditions at the time. Even now, with the comfy blanket and the pleasant temperature that was in the hospital room, I almost shivered.

I had to hold my breath the entire time. I wouldn't even blink, despite how much the nippy breeze made my eyes water and sting. From the corner of my eye, I watched the creature, hoping and praying that my heart wouldn't explode due to how fast it was pumping. Matt was the only thing keeping me and the lanky beast separated from each other. He was standing as still as a statue, teeth clenched in fear and back perfectly aligned against the rocky surface that was behind us. For some reason—which I now know was to help me remember that I wasn't alone—he made sure to keep the little finger of his left hand intertwined with the little finger of my right hand.

It was insanely hard for me to not to move. Not only was I terrified beyond belief, but I was in so much pain after getting yanked out a tiny window, dragged recklessly through the woods, and dropped down an elevator shaft. My bloody legs were using every last sprinkle of willpower that I had inside of me in order to prevent quivering like Jell-o.

My teeth desperately wanted to chatter, especially when the mutated creature started to slowly peer around the overhang. It bent its filthy body in an unnatural position and opened its mouth wider than any human possibly could. Then, with practically all of its razor-sharp teeth exposed to the naked eye, it let out a long, piercing, demonic shriek that made my eardrums feel like they were about to bleed. Matt and I cringed a little, but it thankfully went unnoticed.

The monster turned back around and disappeared into the caves again, allowing me and the jock to deflate our chests in massive relief. We could see the lodge in the distance, but there was no way for us to get there. The cliff was too slippery and steep to climb down, and neither of us were willing—or fully able—to make a run for it with that creature still lurking around. That meant only one thing: me and Matt were trapped on the cliffside together.

I was beyond freezing and miserably failing at my attempts to ignore the sharp jabbing sensations that were coming and going around the area in my back that was directly above my tailbone. Shortly after I started leaning against the rocky wall for support, the jock ended up giving me his Letterman jacket to wrap around my naked legs. However, the pain and chills didn't go away.

I remembered thinking that Matt and I were going to die, whether it was from hypothermia or from coming in contact with the monster again; but then, after what felt like a lifetime of being stranded, we were greeted by the silhouette of a helicopter breaking through the bright colors of the sunrise.

Matt didn't think twice before waving his arms around and calling out to the chopper as loud as he could, regardless of how neither of us knew if the monster was still nearby. I had tried to do the same, but I didn't last long. My battered legs ended up giving out from the intense amount of pain that I was in and I collapsed on my knees in the slush. As this happened, I started sobbing in a mixture of agony, fear, and relief, and the jock didn't hesitate to drop down on one knee beside me. He quickly looped one of my arms around his shoulders and allowed me to use him as a support as we stood back up and continued waving like lunatics in the direction of the helicopter.

There are absolutely no words that could possibly describe how glad I was when the two of us heard the pilot report on their radio, "I got two more survivors in my sight. They're standing on a narrow cliffside, away from the lodge. I'm picking them up now."

Then, there was the interview. A police officer had given me a thicker coat to cover up with, right before he escorted me down to an isolated room that was already inhabited by a couple of detectives. I had to slump against the stone wall and stare directly at the video camera, despite how I was in pain and exhausted from going through an indescribable amount of hell. I could clearly remember all of the cocked eyebrows, furrowed foreheads, and critical stares that were shot in my direction whenever I answered a question. I might've sounded weak and emotional, but I didn't tell a single lie—not even when I brought up the creature.

However, I couldn't recall anything else that happened after the interview. The last thing I truly could remember was asking the detectives if Mike had gotten off the mountain and not getting a response, as they were busy taking notes and instructing one of the two officers that were supervising the interrogation to "bring in one of the others." Everything else after that—if there even was anything else—was all a blur.

As all of the memories replayed themselves in my head, my eyes widened to the point where they felt like they had become too large for my head.

"Matt! Matt!" I exclaimed in a more frantic tone, waving my un-needled hand in his direction in the hopes of getting him to snap out of his drowsiness faster.

The jock lowered his fist from his face and let out a small yawn; but after that, it was like he had never been tired. At the sound of my voice, he practically threw himself to the edge of his chair and his unharmed eye grew to be the size of mine. Even though he was covered in injuries, I could still see the mixture of shock and relief that had appeared across his features.

"Oh my God! Jess!" Matt blurted out almost breathlessly, evidently caught up in plenty of emotions. "You—you're awake!"

I grinded my teeth in a wince and placed my hand carefully against my head, still in the process of pulling through a headache.

"Ugh ... yeah..." I grumbled, at which I took a quick glance around the small room again. Then, with slight confusion starting to slip across my tongue, I made eye contact with Matt again. "What. The actual shit. Happened, Matt? ... H-how'd I end up here? The last thing I remember, I was being interviewed by some detectives ... but everything else after that is a blur."

Matt shifted himself a little further around, staring at me pitifully. "That's because you blacked out." He explained somewhat hastily. "Out of nowhere, when an officer was leading Sam to the back to question her about what happened, your eyes seemed to roll back and you just ... collapsed to the floor. An ambulance was called right away and we were all eventually brought here to be taken care of."

Regardless of how relieved I was to hear that Matt and I weren't the only survivors, I was baffled by what he just told me.

"What..." I tried looking for a clock in the room, but when I failed to find one, I locked my attention back on the jock. "What time is it?"

Matt looked down at his watch and then back up at me. "It's five minutes past eleven ... you've been unconscious for a whole seventeen hours. Had all of us worried sick."

I paused, pretending to readjust the nubbins of the cannula as I listened to my heartbeat on the monitor and tried to figure out what Matt meant by "all of us." Did that mean all of our friends had escaped that terrible night on Blackwood Mountain with us? Were any of them in as terrible condition as I was? There were so many questions running through my mind to the point where I forgot to blink for a moment. I squeezed them shut and popped them back open, helping to cease the slight burning sensation that had started to occur in the corners.

"Oh, right!" Matt suddenly proclaimed, causing me to snap my gaze back over to him. "I just remembered, uh ... when a nurse finished fixing up my arm, I decided to swing by the hospital gift shop and get you these."

Matt might've been a genuinely kind and caring person, but after going through all of the crap that we had back on the mountain, I honestly couldn't believe that he had taken the time to buy me something. I dropped my eyes down to his lap, just now realizing that he had a bouquet of pink and white calla lilies lying there.

My jaw dropped a little at the sight of them and I let out a tiny, flattered breath. Calla lilies were my favorite flowers.

With a feeble grin on his bruised face, the jock held the beautiful bouquet out to me and I delicately took it from him. Feeling grateful, I returned his smile.

"Aww, Matt ... that was very sweet of you. Thanks a lot." I then took the best whiff that I could of the flowers, which wasn't so easy since I was still wearing the cannula. "Calla lilies are so pretty."

"I'm glad that you like them." Matt said, followed by another pause in the conversation.

I took a couple of more whiffs of the calla lilies, just barely managing to detect their sweet scent. However, after the heart monitor finished beeping about another three times, I noticed the jock's smile crumble away from his face like it was never there. Out of nowhere, he let out a heavy sigh and rolled his dark brown orbs. After that, while staring directly at my face, he leaned closer in my direction and started whispering, as if to avoid the possibly of somebody eavesdropping on us.

"I swear, you would not believe the questions that those lousy detectives asked me when it was my turn to be interviewed. As soon as I started trying to tell them about that ... thing that was chasing us through the mines, they started asking if any of us were under the influence of drugs or alcohol. I'm pretty sure that there's no substance on this entire planet that could ever make somebody hallucinate to that extreme." Some confusion started to appear in his eyes as he hesitated for a moment before going on. "I had the chance to gather some information from Chris before he was dragged in to be interrogated. Apparently, that creature was only one of the dozens that were lurking on the mountain. It was something called ... a Wendigo—some type of evil, Native American spirit that has an intense craving for flesh."

As soon as those words came out of his mouth, it was as if the moment with the flowers had never happened. A shiver ran through my bones at the thought of the new information on the monster—though I didn't shake—and the worry returned to my features as I, once again, gave the jock my undivided attention.

"What happened with everybody else?" I inquired in a tone that was almost desperate, refusing to break my gaze away from Matt as I quickly sat the bouquet aside on the bedside table. "Are they okay?"

Matt opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out right away. I could see the hesitance in his eyes as he stared at me and reeled his jaw back in. Nonetheless, after a couple of seconds, he opened his mouth again and started to explain the conditions of the rest of our friends.

"We all got some pretty hard bumps, bruises, and scratches." He said as he started rubbing his thumb against his index finger, indicating that he was trying his hardest to tell me everything that I deserved to know. "Sam is down the hall with a broken leg and wrist. I went to visit her around noon and she was sitting in a wheelchair by the window, going back and forth from looking outside to looking down at both of her casts. I hate to say it, but she looked almost completely lethargic. One of the doctors assured me that it was just from the medicine that they had given her to help with the pain, but..." He pursed his lips and lightly shook his head in a sympathetic manner. "I think you and I both know that that's not the case."

A frown tugged at the corners of my lips. Sam was such a sweetheart—the type of friend who wouldn't hesitate to give you her shoulder to cry on at any point and time. Now, judging by Matt's description, she sounded like a damaged doll.

Then, my mind wandered over to Emily. Before the winter getaway, I thought that I despised her and wanted nothing more than to see a voodoo doll of her fall into the wrong hands; but now, after having my life flash before my eyes God knows how many times, I realized just how ridiculous this feud between me and her was. The two of us had been best friends ever since the second grade. We practically grew up on sleepovers, mani-pedis, and wild parties that involved hot guys, vulgar dancing, and so much alcohol to the point where one of us always ended up holding back the other's hair while she hovered over the toilet by the end of the night. In shorter terms, I didn't want to throw our friendship away after so many great years together ... and I definitely didn't want to hear that Emily had been seriously hurt—or worse.

"What about Emily?" I eventually found the courage to ask.

Matt let out a somewhat disappointed huff.

"She's fine, but she absolutely refuses to let me near her." He said, and he must've noticed the flicker of confusion in my eyes, because he went into further explanation. "It's kind of a long story, so I won't bore you will all of the details right now. Let's just say, something happened on the mountain between me and her and she's pretty pissed about it. Aside from that, I heard from Sam that she got bit pretty roughly on the shoulder by one of those ... Wendigo things ... and she received a couple of stitches. The doctors are still trying to fully understand the bite mark, so they're having her sleep in a room that's around the corner."

I nervously brushed some strands of my hair out of my face and exhaled slowly. So far, I was hearing that my friends were alive ... but there were still a few to go.

"And Chris and Ash?" I asked next.

"Their parents came to get them as soon as the police called to alert them about everything that had happened." Matt answered, obviously trying to ignore how his swollen eye was starting to throb a little. "Ashley was noticeably shaken up, but her worst injury was a black eye and all Chris really had was a sprained ankle, along with a massive bruise on his forehead. They're okay ... but Josh ... uh..."

My body tensed up for a brief second at the mention of the eldest Washington.

"What happened to Josh?" I questioned.

Hesitance appeared in the jock's eyes again. He closed them and waited a few seconds before opening them again, now looking discouraged.

"He was never found." He replied with his voice dripping in regret. "According to Sam, he was last seen with Mike. The two of them were wading through an underground lake when a Wendigo popped out from underneath the water, grabbed him, and carried him off. The police believe that he's still somewhere on the mountain, so they already have a search party looking for him. Unfortunately, they haven't found anything yet."

At the mention of Mike's name, my eyes grew to be the size of two globes and I paled a little. A small sting shot through my chest after hearing about how Josh hadn't made it until dawn, but I had honestly zoned out for a majority of the time after hearing my boyfriend's name.

"Mike..." I breathed his name to myself, at which my heart monitor started to pick up the pace. Then, I spoke out loud in a much more frantic tone, saying, "What happened to Mike? ... Matt, where's Mike?"

Not even a full second after those questions left my mouth, a frown that could break anybody's heart split across Matt's face and I could've sworn that I saw tears beginning to form in the corners of his dark brown orbs.

I immediately felt the urge to start drawing in deeper breaths to keep up with my enhanced heartbeat, so I did. While doing so, I hoped to God that my eyes were just playing tricks on me and that there really were no teardrops in the jock's eyes.

"Jess..." Matt said in a tone that was practically a whisper.

"I need to know if he's alright!" I exclaimed, at which I couldn't help but clutch a handful of the blanket that was covering me with my un-needled hand. "I need to see him, Matt! Please!"

The regret in Matt's voice had increased so much to the point where I could've sworn that there had to be a new word to describe it.

"Jess, there was a fire in the lodge ... the whole place practically exploded in flames. It was completely destroyed."

With every word he spoke, the more his eyes glistened with tears and the more afraid I became.

"What are you—what are you talking about?" I inquired anxiously. "What's that have to do with Mike? ... That has nothing to do with him."

Matt hung his head and clenched his eyes shut, causing a single tear to escape from his unharmed eye and plop down to the floor. Then, after drawing in a quick, stuffy breath through his nose, he lifted his disappointed gaze back up to me.

"He was in the fire, Jess ... I heard a few officers talking and they brought up how they recovered his body." He shuddered and sniffled at the exact same time. "He—he was completely incinerated ... I-I'm sorry, but it's true ... Mike's dead."

In the blink of an eye, my blood became as cold as ice and it felt like I'd been shot directly through the heart. My jaw became heavier than cement, but I fought to keep it from dropping. As a result of this, it instantly started to grow sore and my teeth began to chatter a little. At the same time, boiling hot tears started to fill my eyes and race each other down my cheeks like individual streams.

"No, no..." I denied hastily, shaking my head with my voice becoming more and more choked-up with every word I said. "T-that's—that's not possible! They must've made a mistake ... it—it had to be somebody else that they found! It just had to be!"

Teardrops began to leak down Matt's face as he stared at me like I was a dead puppy on the street. "Jessica..." He whimpered sympathetically.

My grasp on the blanket grew tighter, causing my knuckles to become whiter than flour.

I squeezed my eyes shut and started to sniffle, still shaking my head as the tears continued to pour down my battered face. No words could possibly describe how much I was straining myself to believe that this was just one hell of a nightmare ... but deep down inside, I knew that wasn't true. This was all real... and my boyfriend—the guy who had risked his life in order to chase after me all the way to the abandoned mining facility—was actually gone.

"N-no..." I choked out between sobs. "He—he was just with me yesterday! He came to rescue me! ... H-he can't be dead! I—I heard him calling out to me in the woods a-and..."

My whole body was starting to tremble by this point and I was honestly surprised by how the bones in my hand hadn't already shattered from how hard I was gripping the blanket.

"Oh god ... oh my God..." I wept to myself ... and shortly after that, I was no longer able to hold back the scratchy, distraught wails that had been racking painfully against the inside of my chest. "Shit, I can't believe this is happening! ... Oh, Mike! ... Michael, no!"

After that, all I could do was turn my damaged body as much as I could in the direction away from the jock and bury the side of my face against the large pillow as I bawled at the top of my lungs. I screwed my eyes shut tighter than ever before and released my grip on the blanket, only to clench a handful of the pillow next. I could already feel it dampening beneath my cheek from all of the tears, but I didn't care—just like I didn't care about how the tears were pouring over some of the stitches and making the injured skin burn.

Almost immediately after I turned away, over the rapid beeping of the heart monitor and my sobs, I just barely heard the sound of the chair's legs hastily scraping across the floor from Matt jumping up. Despite also crying, he didn't think twice before approaching the head of the bed and wrapping his uninjured arm around me from behind. It looped around my neck and rested across my chest in a tight, yet gentle, manner. Shortly after that, I felt him press his cheek against the bandages that were wrapped around my head in a friendly attempt to console me. I could also feel his other arm—the one in the cast—pressed up carefully against the center of my back. There was some discomfort caused by that, but I didn't give a damn. I was heartbroken.

"Jess, I'm so ... so sorry." Matt choked out, followed by a quick sniffle. "I know that this is awful and it's nowhere near easy to accept ... but I promise that we're going to make it through this. That's what Mike would want from you, me, and the others ... and I swear, no matter what happens from here on out ... I will always be here for you. Always."

---

With my eyes still glued on the photo, I took down a heavy gulp to help clear my throat from a sore lump that had started to grow. Seeing Mike's smile made me think back to that night—before everything turned to shit. During our hike to the guest cabin, between all of the flirting, harmless pranks, and sight-seeing, not once had the thought ever crossed either of our minds that within just a couple of more hours, we would never see each other again. It really did prove the point that a lot could happen in the most unexpected places and within such a short amount of time.

I slowly exhaled through my nose and dropped my mournful gaze down to my makeup table.

"Come on, Jessica ... don't think about the pain right now..." I murmured, flicking my dull eyes between a couple of my medication containers as I felt a strong sting in my heart. "It'll all be over soon ... just—just focus on dinner."

Suddenly, after a couple of seconds, I heard four gentle taps. A small jolt ran through my body from not expecting to hear anything like that, but I made sure to act nonchalant as I lifted my attention back up to the vanity mirror. Through its reflection, I saw Lauren now standing in the doorway and staring at me with a sweet grin on her face. She was my caretaker—something else that added to my father's expenses. Although, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't like Lauren. It was obvious that she genuinely enjoyed lending a hand to people and that she wasn't just committed to this profession for the money. She was in her late twenties, possessing a figure that was shaped like an hourglass and light toffee-colored skin that looked gorgeous with her seafoam-green eyes and her long, shiny, brunette hair. I honestly didn't have the slightest idea as to how she wasn't married or at least dating anyone yet.

Today, aside from her usual burgundy scrubs, Lauren had her hair styled back in a perfect French braid and a fool's gold necklace that had a charm shaped like the star of Bethlehem on it hanging around her neck. She really did look like a perfectly constructed, porcelain doll.

"Hey, Jessica." Lauren greeted warmly.

I put on a faint, but very believable grin and repositioned my canes in order to turn myself around and face the door.

"Oh, Lauren," I said, still feeling a slight tingling sensation vibrating through my body from the abrupt jolt, "it's only you."

She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't startle you, did I?"

I shook my head and replied convincingly. "No, you didn't. I was just, you know ... cleaning myself up a little."

It didn't go unnoticed that Lauren's grin had wavered a bit after I said that. She took a quick scan of me from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head, clearly noticing my smeared makeup, untamed hair, and worn out clothes. Nonetheless, since I was out of bed and actually talking, it didn't take long before she had her whole smile return to her face.

"Well, how about I give you a hand quickly?" Lauren suggested as she stepped inside my room, approached my makeup table, and retrieved another cheap-ass wipe from its container.

I didn't bother to protest, even though I didn't really care about how my makeup looked. Instead, I gave the best shrug that I could while keeping all of my weight on the crutches and said, "If you want."

I closed my eyes and felt Lauren place one of her hands against my cheek in order to ensure that my head wouldn't bob around. Then, she made sure to be very gentle as she to ran the cold cloth across one eyelid at a time. She spent about twenty seconds on both of them, which backed up the fact even more that these facial cloths were nothing but complete bullshit. After she was finished, I fluttered my eyes back open and noticed that Lauren had managed to wipe away the dark smears from around them. Still, at the sight of how I looked with no makeup at all, I couldn't help but bite back on the urge to grimace.

"Alright, that's better. I'll never understand why makeup is so easy to put on, yet so damn difficult to take off." Lauren murmured, tossing the disposable wipe into the nearby trash bin before she made eye contact with me again. "Anyway, dinner is about to be served. Are you ready to head downstairs?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." I replied with a couple of soft nods.

"Great! The rest of your family is already down there." Lauren stepped aside and gestured for me to go first. "After you."

I advanced both of my crutches forward and swung my body ahead, repeating the process at least ten times before I finally managed to exit my room. Lauren pursued after me, observing every move that I made and clearly taking mental notes on how my performance on the canes was so far. After making it down the long hallway, which was nicely decorated with dozens of family pictures, elegant pieces of tapestry, small mahogany tables, and a variety of pricey knick-knacks, I had made it to the top of the arched staircase.

"Okay, Jessica. You know what to do." Lauren said as she stepped down the first two stairs and waited for me.

Not really in the mood to talk, I only gave another nod and simply hummed out, "Mm-hm."

First, I carefully lowered the tips of my crutches down to the first stair. While doing this, I also made sure to place them firmly on the thick strip of carpet that ran all the way from the top of the staircase to the bottom in order to prevent the canes from slipping out from underneath me. Following that, I carefully lowered my left leg down, ensured that my whole foot was resting against the stair, and then brought down my right leg. The entire time, I refused to break my attention away from my feet and Lauren walked at my side, prepared to catch me in case I lost my balance.

One of Lauren's responsibilities was to, of course, watch over me as I walked up and down the staircase. In the beginning, I used to have to lean against her and practically let her haul me up and down the stairs like a kid who desperately wanted to ride on their parent's leg or back. But now, even with me unable to support hardly any of my weight anymore, I had gained enough experience and built up enough strength in my arms to handle obstacles like stairs by myself. Going up was a hell of a lot easier than going down, but I could handle it—or at least I forced myself to handle it.

Lauren was also responsible for assisting me in the restroom, considering the damage to my lower spine resulted in me being unable to feel any sensations to warn me of when I needed to use the toilet. Luckily, one of the dozens of prescriptions that were given to me helped alert a series of other nerves in my body to let them assist in letting me know when I had to empty myself. So, thank God that "accidents" weren't an issue with me.

Other than the toilet, Lauren also had to help me in and out of the bathtub whenever I needed to bathe. Then, she would help dress and undress me. It was all embarrassing at first, but at the same time, I got over the humiliation pretty quickly. I was too devastated about Mike's death and too caught up in remembering that horrible night on the mountain to really give a crap about having a caretaker.

"That's it ... you're doing great..." Lauren encouraged, going on with more compliments every time I managed to step down another stair.

Eventually, after what felt like a century of descending, my caretaker and I had made it down the staircase.

"Nice job!" Lauren said proudly.

Just then, I detected some familiar scents roaming through the air. For the briefest second, I felt a comfortable warmth form in the depressed pit of my stomach and the tiniest smile in all of existence appeared on my face. Without a word, I rode my crutches in the direction of the kitchen and basked in how the delicious aromas were getting stronger.

At last, I arrived at the doorway and entered with Lauren taking her time to follow me. The floor transitioned from polished elm wood to bronze and black checkered marble. At the same time, the walls became the color of cream and I became surrounded by classy white cabinets, stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and plenty of shelves that were decorated by floral chinaware that wasn't meant to be used—only looked at.

Just as I suspected, my dad was standing at the stove and stirring what I could tell by the scent was his famous gumbo. Which, by the way, just so happened to be my favorite dish ever since I was a little girl ... and considering how this would be the last meal that I would ever have with my family, that was both a great and terrible thing.

My little grin almost fell into a frown from that thought, but I forced myself to keep it as steady as possible for the sake of my father.

"Hey, Daddy." I spoke up as I ceased myself beside the island, which was in the center of the kitchen.

My father glanced over his shoulder and flashed a bright, handsome smile at the sight of me.

"Hi there, princess." He greeted, right before he switched the stove off, sat aside the ladle that he'd been using to stir, walked over to me, and pressed a kiss against my forehead.

I closed my eyes, secretly savoring that split second. Then, it came to my attention that my dad was still wearing his paramedic uniform, regardless of how he had finished his nine hour shift two hours previously. He also had a pair of damp rubber gloves sitting beside the stove and some dirt stains were rubbed into the fabric of his shirt. I knew exactly what these things meant. Right after he got home from work, my father tidied up the kitchen, played a few rounds of soccer in the backyard with Travis and Cameron, and now, he was wrapping up dinner. He hadn't even gotten the chance to take a shower, change his clothes, and have some time to himself yet...

"I saw that you gave Cam and Travis two of your stuffed animals. That was awfully generous of you." Dad said, snapping me out of my thoughts with appreciation glowing in his hazel irises. "I'm very glad to see that the three of you are getting along for a change. It shows that you're all growing up."

I breathed a single, phony chuckle and nodded my head in false agreement. Then, I immediately changed the topic.

"Is that your delicious stew that I'm smelling?" I asked.

My father's smile broadened. "Indeed, it is, sweetheart." He declared, right before he retreated to the stove and gestured for me to come over. "Come have the first taste."

With the sadness behind my eyes being hidden by my fake smile, I advanced my crutches in his direction and made it over within five swings. Lauren remained in the doorway, arms crossed as she watched the scene with admiration.

My father dipped a spoon into the pot, stirred it around, and eventually lifted it back out. I could clearly see the chopped up vegetables and chunks of meat that were bathing in the thick, tasty-looking broth. For a moment, as I watched my dad gently blow on the spoonful and position his other hand underneath it in order to prevent any of the stew from dripping down to the floor, I could've sworn that I felt a sprinkle of genuine happiness appear inside my chest. Unfortunately, due to how it didn't take long for my mind to grow dark again from the depression, it only lasted for a brief moment.

At last, my father held the spoon out to me and I leaned in towards it, keeping my grip on the crutches firm while doing so. After latching my lips around the spoon and luring the sample into my mouth, I took a couple of seconds to bask in the phenomenal taste. The ingredients were juicy, yet creamy—chewy, yet soft. It literally was like tasting a spoonful of heaven.

"Mmmm." I hummed in satisfaction, swallowing shortly afterwards. "It's fantastic."

Dad let out a flattered chuckle and sat the spoon down, right before he gently cuffed my face in his hands and brushed some stray strands of my disheveled ponytail out of my eyes with his thumbs. He smelled like cleaning supplies that was mixed with a faint touch of what was leftover from his cologne. On the outside, my grin brightened ... but on the inside, I was feeling more and more discouraged with every second that ticked by.

"Thank you, darling. I figured that since my gumbo is your favorite meal and how I haven't served it in quite some time, it would be a great idea for dinner this evening." Dad said, right before he traced the tip of his right thumb along one of my scars with a nurturing look in his eyes. "A special treat for my special daughter."

I took down a small, unnoticeable gulp and forced myself to look delighted, regardless of how hard that was. At the same time, my father withdrew his hands from my face, pushed aside some of his beige-blonde fringe, and turned back towards the stove.

"It should be ready within another two minutes. I still need to add a couple of more spices." He picked the ladle up again and continued stirring the gumbo. "How about you head into the dining room and settle down at the table with your mother and brothers? I'll be in there momentarily."

"Alright, Dad."

After readjusting my crutches, I made eye contact with Lauren to let her know that I was ready to travel elsewhere. With an understanding nod, she uncrossed her arms and walked over to the French doors that separated this area of the house from the dining room. As this happened, I took one final glance around the kitchen, knowing that this was going to be the last time that I'd ever hang around in it. Then, after a couple of seconds, I snapped out of it and guided myself over to the other side of the room.

Lauren opened one of the mahogany French doors and stepped aside, gesturing for me to go first. I obliged and entered the dining room, where the ground transferred over to remarkably polished tigerwood and the walls—excluding the east one—became the color of a robin's egg. The entire east wall was constructed out of sangria stone, where there was an elegant fireplace that had an occupied fish tank built in directly above the mantle. There were also two large cabinets on either side of the fireplace, containing glass figurines, skillfully painted pots, framed pictures of me and my brothers, and even more chinaware. Aside from that, there was a wide bay window that was decorated by translucent, silk, pastel yellow curtains. It provided a view of the front yard, which wasn't very clear since there were a couple of small, yet thriving cherry blossom trees directly outside the window.

The family cat—a Somali with vibrant reddish/orange fur and a purple collar that advertised the name Darcy on a silver, heart-shaped charm—was lying across the windowsill and observing me with her large, alert, dull yellow eyes.

A vintage chandelier that was decorated with realistic crystals hovered in the center of the room, directly over the long, rectangular, mahogany dining table. A single chair sat at both ends, while the sides were accompanied by three chairs each. They were created out of navy blue velvet and supported by long, mahogany legs to match the table. A crystal vase was also placed in the middle, displaying perfectly flourished roses that were mixed with bright orange tulips.

Other than that, there was a grandfather clock, some potted plants, a couple of paintings, and a series of even more framed photos that dated back to my childhood spread in different areas all throughout the room.

Travis and Cameron were sitting next to each other on the north side of the table, trying to keep their laughter down as they threw a few harmless punches in each other's directions and attacked each other with tickles. Bonbon and Snowball were nowhere in sight, which I could tell was because it had become a rule shortly after my brothers became toddlers that toys were no longer allowed at the table during meals. My mother was the one who made that rule, courtesy of how she had gotten annoyed with how I would talk to my stuffed animals like they were actual living things and beg for them to get served food as well.

Speaking of which, my mom was sitting at the head of the table, engaged in a phone call like she was the only one in the room. She looked just as snobby as she always did, wearing the emerald cocktail ring that used to belong to my father's mom and a brand new, black and gold, sequin dress that reached down to the center of her thighs and showed off each of her curves. Every single inch of her face was also pampered with makeup and her mid-length, wavy, ginger hair was pulled back in a fancy chignon style.

"I swear, Suzanne, this woman was the size of two. Whole. Cows. Every time she took a step, it was like individual earthquakes were ricocheting throughout the salon. She definitely needs to throw away all of the doughnuts and buffalo wings that she must have tucked away in all of those rolls and start stuffing that fat face of hers with fruits and vegetables." Mom smirked in satisfaction while speaking into the phone, waiting a couple of seconds before chuckling. "I know, right? That pig ever hear of yogurt or a salad? I was just thankful that the chair was able to support her while I was doing her nails. Unfortunately, the whole experience was like servicing a giant glob of Jell-o."

With a blank expression on my face, I rolled my eyes to myself and began to approach the table with Lauren following shortly behind. From the corner or my eye, it wasn't hard to see the disapproval that was in her eyes; but since she was the hired help, it was obvious that she wasn't going to protest against my mother's cruel gossip.

At the sound of my crutches tapping against the ground, Mom raised her eyebrows and cut a small glance over towards me. However, after noticing my appearance, her green eyes grew to be the size of saucers and she turned her head in my direction so fast to the point where it was surprising that her neck didn't snap. She examined me from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head in utter disbelief, and I could already see the judgment starting to lace across her features.

"Um ... Suzanne, I'm gonna have to call you back. You wouldn't believe how my daughter is presenting herself to me right now." She ended her phone call without even waiting for a response from her friend, still looking at me like I had grown a second head. "Jessica, what in the world are you wearing? And what exactly have you done to your hair? You look like a homeless person! You should know by now that it's a requirement for everyone in this family to always take pride in their appearance."

I felt that familiar shame starting to swirl around in the pit of my stomach as I let out a small sigh. Although, at the same time, I secretly felt some annoyance already starting to prod at the bottom of my throat.

"I'm sorry, Mom, but it's not exactly easy for me to get all dolled up anymore." I pointed out in the most nonchalant tone that I could muster. "Besides, these clothes are comfortable on me."

My mother scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Honey, comfortable is just another word for cheap and hideous. You should be wearing something that's actually stylish and presentable. For example, there's that new couture blouse and skirt that I got you for your birthday. Your father practically groveled at my feet before I agreed to buy them, so you might as well wear them."

At the insulting remark towards Dad, I could've sworn I felt one of the veins in my forehead throb for a split second. At the same time, Cameron and Travis started to look both confused and uncomfortable. In an attempt to distract themselves, they began to engage in multiple rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors with each other; and I made sure to maintain a calm face for the sake of this being a pleasant dinner.

I noticed Lauren shoot my mom a critical stare, but like me, she didn't say anything. Instead, she calmly pulled out the chair that I always sat in on the south side of the table, took a hold of my arms, and carefully helped lower me down into the chair. After that, I unlatched the metal cuffs of my crutches from my forearms and handed them over to Lauren. She simply prompt them against the edge of the table beside me.

Mom huffed. "Why do I even bother? I swear, you're such a lost cause."

I bit down on my bottom lip, surprisingly not drawing any blood. However, I had to admit that hearing those words come out of my own mother's mouth was like being stabbed in the heart with the sharpest knife in all of existence.

"Mrs. Riley!" Lauren blurted out, staring at my mom like a deer caught in the headlights. "How could you say something so degrading like that to Jessica? With all due respect, she's—"

"She's my daughter." Mother cut her off, piercing her with a venomous look in her eyes. "Not yours ... and for your information, I'm not doing anything wrong or degrading. I'm simply building her up like every good mother should. You're nothing more than the hired help, so unless you want to be replaced by another caretaker, I suggest that you keep your lips welded shut from here on out. Capeesh?"

Lauren hesitated, opening and closing her mouth a few times like she was debating whether or not to she should give the response that she wanted. She then glanced down at me, but when I didn't return her gaze, she pursed her lips and flicked her attention back over to my mom.

"Capeesh." She said softly. "Please forgive me for speaking to you like that, Mrs. Riley. It won't happen again."

"For the sake of your job, you better hope that it won't ever happen again." Mom warned, narrowing her eyes.

The caretaker's lips twitched, forming a small frown.

Just then, my father appeared in the doorway with an accomplished grin on his face. "I hope everyone is ready for food!" He announced.

Mom's glare immediately jumped over to him. "Nicholas, have you seen the way Jessica looks this evening?"

In less than a second, Dad's smile vanished and was replaced by a look of confusion, as if he were a child that was trying to understand a complicated math equation. I could feel his gaze falling on me, and then flicking back over to my mother.

He replied kindly and easily, saying, "Yeah, I have. She looks just as beautiful as always."

"Beautiful?!" Mother echoed in a scornful tone, causing a piece of me to cringe. "Surely, you're telling some pathetic joke! Or you're in serious need of an eye exam! She looks like a poor bimbo!"

The irritation prodded harder inside of me, mixing with the increasing humiliation that made my gut feel heavier than lead.

Lauren's jaw dropped. I couldn't tell if she looked more disgusted or shocked by my mom's latest insult, but she stood close to my chair, put her hands on my shoulders, and gave them a consoling squeeze. At the same time, Dad stared at Mom with alarmed eyes and the twins tilted their heads like a pair of confused puppies.

"What's a bimbo?" Cameron asked, blinking innocently.

Lauren answered quickly, "Nothing that either of you boys need to worry about! Don't put any thought into it!"

My father stared guiltily at my little brothers, evidently disappointed by how their pure minds were slowly becoming more and more corrupted in the hands of my mother. Nonetheless, instead of objecting, he locked his gaze back on his wife and spoke almost pleadingly.

"Camille, please ... that's our daughter you're talking about."

Mom groaned, unsatisfied. "Ugh! Whatever!"

Dad rubbed the back of his neck, wincing slightly. I could tell that he was secretly exhausted, but he wasn't allowing himself to show it for the sake of his family. Instead, he put on an awkward smile and spoke brightly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Well, dinner is ready! Can I have a hand with the platters?"

He stared directly at my mother with a small speck of hope in his eyes. Unfortunately, Mom rolled her eyes at the question and held up one of her hands to show her recently filed nails that were the covered in glittery, ruby-red polish.

"Um, hello? Nicholas, I just got my nails done and I'm certainly not going to risk breaking them or chipping off any of the polish." Mom sneered, shortly before her phone dinged and she opened it almost instantly in order to respond to a text message. "Besides, you have two legs and two arms that work just fine. You can handle serving the food by yourself, I'm sure."

For a brief moment, while sweeping some stray crumbs from lunch off from the table and into her hand, my caretaker stared at my mom like she was starting to battle the urge to bitch-slap her.

At the same time, my father's shoulders drooped and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Of course, darling. How silly of me." He gave a tiny, obviously fake chuckle, despite the disappointment that was completely visible in his eyes. "I'll handle it, no problem. It'll also give me the chance to invite Paul in to join us."

Mom instantly stopped responding to her text and snapped her attention over to Dad. "I beg your pardon?" She said in a tone that was hard, yet emotionless.

I closed my eyes and quietly exhaled, already having a hunch on what was going to happen.

My father blinked in slight confusion and gestured a little with his hands. "I just thought that since that boy's been working in the blazing sun for almost three hours now, it would only be fair to offer him—"

"Nicholas," Mother interrupted sharply, "I hired that kid to work in the garden. That's all he's here for. We don't need him to be slacking off in order to eat our food and increase our pay."

Dad started to fiddle around with his fingertips in a mixture of guilt and uncertainty. "But, sweetie ... don't you think that he at least deserves a glass of lemonade or maybe some—"

This time, my father shut himself up when my mother raised her finger like she was getting ready to lecture a child—which she's done plenty of times to me, Cameron, and Travis. Needless to say, I really hated when she acted that way to him.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Nicholas." Mom scolded, narrowing her eyes. "We're not going to invite the gardener in to eat with us ... and keep in mind, if you weren't such a lazy ass, maybe I wouldn't have needed to hire him in the first place."

I curled my toes and dragged my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to ignore this ball of heat that was starting to form in the pit of my stomach. As this happened, sympathy for my father started to twinkle in my eyes and Lauren made sure to cover the ears of my little siblings before the word "ass" could make it out of my mother's mouth. By this point, she had adapted to Mom's verbal abuse and almost always seemed to know exactly when to block out "indecent" language for Travis and Cameron.

With a quiet sigh, Dad turned to walk back into the kitchen; but he stopped and looked back when Lauren spoke up.

"Please, Mr. Riley," —She removed her hands from over Cameron and Travis's ears— "allow me to help you."

A faint, thankful grin twisted across my father's lips. "Thank you, Lauren. I would greatly appreciate it."

From the corner of her eye, Mom watched in distaste as my caretaker disappeared into the kitchen with Dad. My brothers were still confused and were even starting to grow unsettled from the whole situation; but they decided to distract themselves by engaging in more rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors and beginning a quiet conversation about their upcoming soccer tournament. I couldn't help but feel a little envious since a seven-year-old's brain had a higher talent for blocking out its surroundings compared to the atmosphere around an eighteen-year-old's brain.

"God, I can't believe that woman." Mother muttered, evidently referring to Lauren. "She is such an attention whore."

While keeping my attention on my lap and twirling my thumbs around, I softly came to my caretaker's defense by saying, "No, she's not. She's my friend."

Mom punctured me with a cold stare. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Jessica! She's a caretaker. She gets paid to act like she gives a crap about you. She's not your friend, she's just the hired help ... and if I were you, not only would I have put on suitable attire, but I would also be working on getting my legs back to normal as quickly as possible. I don't like having that woman in my house, parading around your father and acting like she owns the place—"

I cut her off in the most nonchalant voice that I could muster, despite the pointed stare that was in my eyes as I peeked up to look at her.

"It's not that easy. The doctors said that I have permanent damage to my spinal cord, which means that I'm more than likely never going to have the ability to walk without my crutches ever again."

My mother rolled her eyes and looked down at her phone again, finishing off her text message. Before she sent it, I managed to catch a glimpse of the name Justin at the top of the screen. Afterwards, she tucked her phone away in her purse, folded her hands, and flicked her attention back over to me.

"Doctors, huh? Well, let me tell you a little something about doctors, Jessica." Mom's tone was just as critical as the look on her face, as if she thought that it should've been a crime to go into the medical field. "They told me that I was unable to have children ... and look at where we are right now. I was perfectly fine with not being pregnant, but your father kept begging me to try the fertility drugs that those doctors were recommending because he oh-so-desperately wanted to have a family. Eventually, I decided to accept the drugs just because I wanted him to shut up and be a man... and you were a result of those drugs almost immediately."

Another ding came from my mother's phone, at which she retrieved it from her purse and opened up another text. I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip, thinking about her cruel statement and watching as her eyes lit up with a seductive glow. She quickly responded to the message, smirking a little, and turned her phone off before tucking it back into her purse. Then, when she locked her gaze on me again, her bitter expression returned to her face.

"So, since the doctors were wrong about me being barren, what makes you think that they couldn't possibly be wrong about the 'permanent' damage to your spine?" Mom inquired.

Instead of responding, I narrowed my eyes a little and dropped my attention back down to my lap. I couldn't tell if I was more discouraged or angered by my mother's confession for never wanting children. Either way, I didn't see the point of trying to explain to her that shattered vertebrae didn't exactly have the same "treatment" options as infertility.

"Ugh..." Mom shook her head in disgust, suddenly changing the topic. "I swear, Jessica ... I don't see how you expect anyone to take you seriously with those nasty scars. It wouldn't have killed you to cover them up with some powder and contour, you know?" She started stirring her latte with its straw. "If that Miguel boy could see how hideous you look right now, he'd be turning in his grave."

I cringed a little at her last sentence and started to scratch at my maroon polish, feeling the heat in my stomach growing hotter by the minute.

"His name was Michael, Mom. Not Miguel." I grumbled.

My mother gave a lazy shrug, still stirring her latte. "Whatever. I never liked that kid anyway. If you ask me, the world is a far better place without him."

I grinded my teeth a little behind my closed lips, but my irritation seemed to have been put on hold when I peeked up and noticed the logo that was printed on the plastic cup that contained my mother's latte. It was the logo to the Antique Rose Cafe—a bistro in the downtown mall that sold a variety of beverages, scrumptious meals, and sugary treats. The logo was the outline of a brown teacup that contained a vibrant pink rose, and the steam coming off from the unseen liquid formed the shape of a heart.

Once again, Matt entered my mind and my eyes softened from recalling another memory that revolved around the two of us.

---

A/N: There you have it, ladies and gentleman! Once again, this was meant to be another sneak peek to a possible one-shot that I'm still in the process of constructing. Nonetheless, I'll let you all decide on whether or not you would like to see what happens next in this story! Would you like for me to continue? Don't be afraid to share your thoughts in the reviews! You can also PM them to me at anytime!

I also hope that you all had a wonderful Christmas, New Years, and Valentine's Day! Keep in mind, you're all wonderful people and no matter what is happening now, it always gets better in the long run! :D

I love you all! Thank you for taking the time to read this prolonged sneak peek/one-shot of mine! Please review! :)

Until the next story/update, everyone!

Crystalteen, out!