RAWR! I bet I scared you xD! If you missed the premiere for Falling Skies you are not my friend… but reviews are definitely accepted. I got a good idea while eating some ice cream, so here it is! (::) COOKIE! Oh, and definitely look out for a story I thought of. It's going to be if Jimmy would survive into season 3! It'll probably be a sequel to You Can Only Find Love through Pain for when I finish that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Falling Skies. WHEN that day comes, Jimmy will come back from the dead. I only own Mya and Greg and maybe some more to come.

Mya's POV:

As I sat in the old building, I wondered what I was missing in math.

"Eh, what do I care?" I asked myself.

We don't need textbooks, we need rifles. They should be putting a gun in every one of our hands, training us.

Deep in my thoughts I heard voices approaching.

I scattered to disappear from the light. If anyone saw I was skipping I would have detention for a week. I'd just have my brother say I wasn't feeling well otherwise.

I saw a boy enter through the doorway, but he wasn't alone.

I recognized two other voices, but I couldn't quite remember who they belonged to. I could only pinpoint one.

Matt Mason.

Mostly because he was the president's son.

Why would a star child like him be ditching?

I couldn't exactly see what the boys were doing, but it looked fun. They were laughing, until I heard the other two's feet pat across the ground.

Matt then ran off too.

I stood up to see what was going on, but I was thrown across the room.

Rubble lay on top of me.

I tried to call out, but I couldn't seem to find my voice. My hearing was blown too.

Dust fell into my eyes, I couldn't feel the rest of my body, and it was all because of Matt Mason.

It wasn't long before my heavy eyelids closed tight to the point I couldn't open them.

"There's a girl over here!" Something like that must've been said, but I couldn't hear.

I remember being carried, but I didn't where.

I didn't know much of anything that was going on.

"Does anyone know her name?" That's what was said, but I couldn't hear.

"Her name's Mya." Somebody else replied.

"What were you thinking?!" A very angry man shouted.

"I-I don't know," stuttered a boy.

"This girl could be dead because of your foolish actions!" The man kept shouting.

I moaned because the feeling in my body started to come back, and I did feel dead.

My eyes were squinted to see what they were saying. Wait. You hear to know what people say, not see.

Oh god. I've lost my hearing!

How am I ever going to become a soldier?

I'm not!

The two were now looking at me.

"How are you feeling?" I was shocked to see that the man was Charleston's president.

"I can't hear you," I spoke; at least I think I did, while pointing to my ear.

A sympathetic look crossed his face before turning back to who I now realized was Matt.

About five minutes later a woman walked in with a clipboard as if this was just another checkup.

She looked up and gasped.

Dr. Glass or Anne, was her name, opened her mouth to speak, but Tom stopped her and whispered something in her ear.

The same look crossed over her face, as it had with Mr. Mason.

She turned around and must've said something because the two Masons walked out of the room.

As soon as they were gone a switch had to have been flipped because the doctor was writing things to me, asking questions about how much I hurt.

She pulled out different medications, mouthing for me to take them.

After that she got to work on all the cuts and open wounds on my skin. Several places were even missing good chunks.

She wrapped all of the skin up with gauze and bandages.

Anne then took a light and shined it in my ears.

She had the best poker face in the world when she showed me a piece of paper that said, "Your eardrums are blown, maybe permanently."

I screamed.

It didn't really matter how loud, cause' I couldn't hear it anyway.

Anne had a pained look on her face before writing another thing on the slip of paper. "I said maybe."

I woke up the next morning, forgetting all the news I had gotten yesterday.

I was bed ridden, but was hoping my brother, Greg, would at least come and visit me.

What am I thinking; he's too busy being a fighter. The only times he bothers to see me is when I get in trouble for missing assignments or skipping class.

The only time anyone came in was if someone was handing me a new pile of pain pills.

Nobody talked, which was strange.

Two hours after class would have ended the door opened.

I watched carefully as a boy around my height with curly hair walked in. His face lifted and yet again Matt Mason stood before me.

I don't know what my facial expression was.

Maybe a mixture of relieved that someone still knew of my existence, but angered by the fact that the person that did this to me was the one visiting me.

He just stood there for a really long time. Maybe even an hour, of just staring at me.

Was I some kind of mutant creature?

Oh, wait; those are the things outside of our city.

Then he moved.

He walked over to the desk aware of my staring him as he did me.

He grabbed a piece of paper and pen that the doctors had used to write what had happened to me and to communicate with me.

After what looked like scribbling on it, he seemed satisfied.

He then slowly walked over to the side of my bed, slid the slip of paper in my hand, and quickly walked out.

I didn't want him to leave.

Staying in silence was better than being alone. But it was too late, the door had clicked shut.

I unfolded my hand and spread out the paper.

It read, "I'm sorry."