Wow! So many reviews! This one is pretty short. There may be possible mistakes...

Chapter 3: A Green Marker's Loyalty

"A friend is nothing but a known enemy." -Kurt Cobain-

The temptation was just too much. After receiving three paper notes and thirteen text messages with the very same facebook link I had to look. Arriving home with a decent amount of homework, I hurried upstairs and barricade myself in my room. Stein shouldn't be home until after four and Marie stays at the elementary school until 5:30, I should be alone for a while.

There was no tension when I clicked the link from the one of the many emails. Just a simple 'click' of the mouse, and I was immediately sent to the facebook page. Weird, wouldn't I need an account to view the page? Perhaps not.

"W-wha-?" I never finished muttering that pronoun as I stumbled back and collapsed onto the swivel chair behind me. A page was solely dedicated to an awkward pink haired girl. Me. There was weirdly cropped images of my head stuck onto the bodies of women, which made me want to berate the person responsible, but obviously this was done for fun, not a class assignment. Each image I clicked through became more horrendous than the other. The earlier horribly photoshopped images were seemingly innocent due to my face being attached to inanimate objects like a mop, or an aspen tree.

This is their source of entertainment? Photoshopping my head onto objects?

Each image I clicked pass, the hardening feeling in my stomach was heavy like five gallon jug full of water. Soon the images became somewhat fleshly. Revealing clothing at their smallest hung on skeletal frames of anorexic bodies as every joint and rib jut from the thin flesh like it were coral scratching through paper. On each of those bodies was the cut out image of my face. The image of my face was somewhat sickening to see even if I were depicted as anorexic in the faux pictures. Why did I see my face so sickening? For starters, the face I was making looked like I was constipated. My eyes were half closed making them look deeper and lazier, and my mouth was in a bizarre frown. Did they think this was funny? Is this the type of punishment received for not living up to the expectations of my peers?

How was I supposed to react? Laugh? Go up to them and tell them to do more? I found this page very humiliating of course. The hardening pit in my abdomen spread throughout my torso making it harder to breath. Actually it hurt to breathe. The tingling in my fingers and toes became so painful I had to check if phalanges exist. My surroundings became darker and my vision was focused near the middle, like a photograph from the late 1800s except in color. Soon my breathing became faster and felt if I were not breathing, was I having a panic attack?

Quickly I stood, knocking over the swivel chair in the process, slamming my laptop shut but as I attempted to pick up my device I dropped it back to its previous spot immediately, like it was red iron. What was this feeling? Like I wanted to run, just get away.

The white noise was inside my head as my room grew smaller and darker. I could barely make out the color of the carpet, or the pastiness of my now grey walls. Reaching out in front of me the air even felt like water where my movements were slower. Where would I go in a situation like this? How could I even ask questions if I can't answer them?

Tugging roughly on my pink locks I tilted my head back and released a choking cry. The dark walls that obstructed my vision came crashing down.

_xXxXxXx_

There was no playground at Death City Middle School. The school had more of a grey feeling, possibly due to the concrete courts and high cage like fences. Still as shy as I was in the fifth grade, Sixth grade was not as luxurious as I thought. During lunch break I would retreat into the furthest corner of the fence and hope not to be spotted by a teacher. Sometimes I would be chased back near the others and sat uncomfortable near the chaos of pre-teens. There is always a point during my school year where I would be tormented in front of the whole class, like it's some sort of annual event to terrorize the quiet girl.

They are skipping in around in circles, their shadows entrap me. The teasing tone of girls chanting, "Crona is a sick girl! Crona has chicken pox! Crona is a sick girl!"

The grey concrete burned my bottom and toasted my pink head, but the warm tears cooled as they dried, staining my cheeks. There was an empty box of Crayola markers abandon by my feet and it's ten markers were pointed at me like multicolored swords. Dots of red, blue, red scattered on my arms and legs. Soon orange and red were dotting my cheeks and green dotted my forehead.

"Crona has chicken pox!" A random student would holler like he was trying to catch everyone's attention. "Crona is a sick girl!"

Round and round they went, like a merry go round that never shut up.

_xXxXxXx_

My head throbbed painfully as I opened my eyes to see a line of light growing wider. A figure broke that straight bright line.

"Crona, what are you doing in your closet?" A deep monotone voice rang loudly into my ears like he was yelling. Or was he? "Get up and go on your bed."

I was in fetal position, wedged in the corner of my small closet underneath a pile of clothes. My knees were pressed stiff against my face and my straw arms wrapped around my straw legs. Shaking my head slightly, I head a sigh emit.

"Come on." A hand pressed against the middle of my back. Maybe my spine would cut through his hand in her pressed harder. Then the other hand slipped where my feet were and pulled my legs out. Staying as stiff as I can, I remained in the same position. "Crona, relax."

Shaking my head I whimpered and buried my head in the space between my nonexistent chest and knees. I heard him sigh louder, this time in irritation. White sleeves wrapped around my curled up frame and lifted me from my dark cocoon. Burying my face into the coat, there was no 'safe' feeling. The familiar stench of stale cigarette and antiseptic invaded my nostrils, it was the signature smell of Stein. Usually that scent would give me headaches or irritate my nose.

"When Marie gets back, you will have a long talk with her." Stein mumbled as he sat me down on my bed. The room was illuminated with a grey orange hue, signaling the sun setting, it was eerie. "Right now, I have to start dinner." I watched as my adopted father retreat to my bedroom door grumbling under his breath about his turn cooking dinner tonight.

Sitting there numbly, I had no need to pull the covers over my head. No thoughts or memories engulfed my mind as I stared down at my loose knitted fingers. I felt nothing.

I don't think I can deal with feeling nothing

_xXxXxXx_

"Maka!" After a sleepless night and a being grounded by Marie, for reasons unknown, I stumbled my way through the sea of adolescents to get to the warm green eyes. "Maka!"

The warm green eyes snapped up from a book, there was a hint of surprise but suddenly turned kind. "Good Morning Crona." She hugged me tightly. "How are you feeling? You look like you're catching a cold."

"N-no. I'm not." Tugging Maka away from the crowded corridor I was an arm's length from her. "W-why did you tell them about m-my m-mother?"

"They're my friends!" Maka seemed uninterested in the conversation. "Friends tell each other things that they should know. And-"

"Like other friend's secrets!?" I cut her off before she could finish. "You know about my mother! And I trusted you! It's not for Kim's knowing!" My voice was raised a notch but my words fell on deaf ears.

"Shesh Crona, don't cry over things like that. She was curious, so I told her. By the ways, it's plain obvious how much you don't like her, and she doesn't like you. No secret there!" Maka bluntly stated.

"You promised you wouldn't tell anyone." I mumbled as I stared at my worn chuck taylors. "We're friend's right?" Glancing up at Maka's face for any sign of that girl from eighth grade year, I was only disappointed as her wrinkled her tiny nose in repulsion.

"I only keep promises to my real friends!" She huffed. "And you're certainly not my friend Crona Gorgon!"

Her words felt like they wrapped around my neck like a noose.

It's 3 am and my fingers are jelly! How was Ch.3? Enjoy?

Thank you for all the reviews and PMs. I'm glad I can write a story that many can relate too!

Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.