Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. James Patterson does.

Claimer: I do, however, own this plot/idea. Any lyrics I include are mine unless I indicate otherwise in the disclaimer. Do not take them.
A/N: This will be a collection of angsty first person one-shots of Max and her thoughts on the life that has been forced on her. The flock is present, but these will focus mainly on Max's thoughts and not the others. There may be some Fax in some of the one-shots, but Fax is not the main focus of the collection. Some may be pretty dark; for these, there will be warnings. Enjoy! (Or rather, wallow in Max's misery!)
Thanks to you, Jeb, I am afraid. That's right, me the unimposable, undefeatable, incredible, invincible Maximum Ride. Afraid. My lack of anything even remotely resembling a normal existence has forced me into growing up, becoming jaded and weary, far beyond my years, and I, who have seen so much, am afraid—actually afraid.

You taught me a lesson that no one should have to learn. You taught me to never trust. And that lesson—that devastating, all-pervading, damned lesson—will never leave me. I trusted you blindly, more than I ever trusted myself. As long as you flew faster than I fell, everything I knew was blurred. Blurred, so that I could never tell that I was being foolish, so foolish…and therein lies my worst mistake: trusting you. So now I can trust no one, because you taught me what trust leads to. It leads to heartbreak, it leads to dependence, and most of all, it leads to weakness. And I fucking hate weakness.

I can't even trust myself. Everyone, everyone, even if they have nothing else, should be able to trust themselves. But no. Not me.

Deep down inside, I think I knew all along that some day I would break. I knew I had been moving too fast for too long, running off adrenalin and impulse, so afraid—yes afraid, Jeb, that ruined word I would never have to use were it not for you—so afraid to slow down that now I couldn't.

Thanks to you, I have no strength. I, the only among six, had no strength.

Angel, who had been through so much, at six, got up every morning and put a huge smile on her face. But she knew. She knew. She could never escape the world in all of it's pain, because she felt every single broken heart, every ruined dream and damned soul. And she lived every day with a smile.

Gazzy, who at eight had seen things that would lead any grown man insane, never showed weakness. He had composed a mask of hardness and cynicality and strength to hide his fear.

Nudge, bless her heart. She felt everything around her, and it killed her. All the pain in the world convened to her tiny little heart, and bless that heart, she took it. She took it like a warrior, never showing how much it truly, really hurt. This eleven year old held all the pain in the world on her shoulders.

Iggy. His situation was worse than being born blind. He could see, he remembered seeing, and it was torn away from him. Cruelly, everything he had ever known was ripped away and he was left to fend for himself, never knowing, always with that tiny part inside him feeling helpless. But he was strong. So strong.

Fang. He had been through literally hell, taking it all with a fierce determination that made my heart ache. He deserved something so much more, as good and strong and true as he was, but no, he would never know anything more. So many nevers. And I, my never is that I will never know.

And no Jeb, I don't really want your pity. I don't really want your sympathy, or your faith. I don't really want anything. So I'll just keep breathing, heart still beating, wearing the mask I've composed for daytime existence. Never truly living. And that'll be enough.

But Jeb, wherever you are, I hope you can hear me. You made me this way.

Wherever you are, I hope you can hear me. I hate you.

A/N: Good? Bad? Terrible? A complete joke? Feedback makes the world go round, people.