She was walking down the hallway of Hollywood Arts, fingering a spot on her lower stomach. He was sure of the fact that there was a divoted scar there. Oh, how he felt responsible for that scar. He saw her best friend go up to her, and he saw the scars that ringed that girls neck, scars from the blade his girlfriend had brought to school with her shotgun. He reached up and traced the two pale scars that lined each side of his face. They where his reminder, his lesson. He would never be able to look at his face and not remember that fateful day. He couldn't believe that four months had passed. God, it seemed like it had been an eternity.

He was broken from his thoughts by the beautiful girl standing beside him. She had the same far-away look on her face, the looked that often graced his features. That look told him that she was looking at the stain of blood that had remained on the floor as another reminder. The three different donors had formed that one horrible memorial of his girlfriend's rampage, his, hers and her little red haired friend. He looked at her and saw her try to avoid his gaze, almost as if she blamed him for what had happened. Good, as that was how it should be. She should scream, cry, or beat him up. She should cause as much pain to him as he had to her. She should make him grovel and beg for mercy. She should have done anything, except for what she did, which was stand on her tiptoes, and whisper four little words in his ear.

"I love you too." HE had never heard those words said that way. Whenever Jade had said them, it wasn't as if she meant them. It had always sounded like she had felt she had to say it. Now, passing the lips of the girl in front of him, they sounded reverent, almost like a pray, a last thing to cling to. With that he leaned down and softly kissed her lips. When he broke away soon after, he whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," before the gorgeous girl with the scar he could not see on her stomach, traced the two lines on either side of his face, and rose to meet his lips.

A/N. ~ Please no flames, but if you don't like it, constructive criticisms are welcome. I have no ownership of Victorious.