Author's note: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I'm packing for a trip to Florida next week, so there won't be any updates from 2/17 to 2/25. However, thank you to all that reviewed, favorited, and alerted! Writing this is fifty times more fun when I have you guys for encouragement.

Enjoy!

~LMDG:)

I then heard a helpless scream coming from inside. I felt my heart pound against my ribcage. "Onyx… he's having another migraine. Come on; we have to do something!" I cried in utter fear.

Lea fished out a bobby pin from her jeans pocket and began to pick the lock as I heard cries and crashing coming from inside Onyx's loft.

She then opened the door, and we both hurried in.

When you're severely worrying about your friend who suffers killer headaches, and are hurrying as fast as you possibly can to save him, a spiral staircase made me subconsciously want to be the one with the aches. The steps seemed to stretch out, disintegrating once Lea and I ran over them and reforming ahead of us.

When we had climbed so many stairs to the point where I felt passing out, we reached Onyx.

Onyx Cade was the most loving and admirable guy in the world; he was the type of person who writes letters in longhand and draws pictures of the cherry tree outside his loft with different materials from different perspectives. I felt like dying when I saw him crumbled up in a ball on the far side of the room, making muffled cries and whimpers. He didn't deserve this, just like his grandfather, Johnny… He saved me; why did he have to suffer?

"They've never been this bad before," Lea muttered, careful not to startle Onyx.

Unfortunately, he heard her, and he cowered, trying to cover his face, but I could see the fear in his eyes that seemed to rip my heart in two. "No… don—don't hurt me!" he sobbed, somehow in a trance. "It's not my fault! Stop, please… I can't—"

His ear-piercing screams that followed sent me back to his first attack.

"Onyx?" I asked, wandering up the staircase to his loft curiously. He said he would get the how-to-draw-plants book and be right back down at the yard with me; why was he taking so long?

When I reached Onyx's studio, my head naturally tilted to the right in curiosity. He was lying face-down on the beige carpet, crying. I walked up to him and crouched down next to him.

"Hey, Onyx. What's wrong?" I asked, trying to sound as comforting as Granddad was to me whenever I was sad.

Onyx didn't lift his head, but I heard his words. "Flames… burning… there's a fire…"

I may not have fully understood what was going on at the moment, but I pulled him up and into a hug, letting him cry into me until his flames had disappeared.

Almost replicating what I did back in the sixth grade, I approached him. "Onyx… it's okay," I cooed.

The cloudiness in Onyx's eyes that he would get during a migraine subsided, and he seemed to fall out of his trance. "…Kim?"

"It's me, Onyx," I reassured him, pulling him close. "You're okay now."

I heard Lea go down the stairs; she must've gotten bored. I swear her attention span is even shorter than that of a month-old puppy.

I pulled away to look Onyx in the eye. "What did you see this time?" I asked.

You see, when Onyx gets a migraine, a vision comes with it. Sometimes he'll see flames, and other times he'll be "drowning" in water. I had waited to ask him this because he never told anyone else about the visions; just me.

"It was different this time. There was a man… with some sort of bottle, and he was about to hit me with it… there was a woman, too. She was just laughing in the background. There was blood everywhere." He let that sink in before continuing. "What do you think it means, Kim?"

The truth was that I didn't know. This was very different from the other visions he's had.

But then again… that scene was familiar somehow…

"That's it," I concluded, earning me a confused look from Onyx. "You had a vision of your great-grandparents. They would beat your granddad all the time."

His look morphed from slightly confused to completely flabbergasted. I sighed, and explained. "My granddad knew your granddad, and apparently he wrote a long paper about some things that happened to them one week." I shivered, remembering the detailed script on the aged paper, describing every punch, every slash with a blade, with eerie clarity and precisions. No wonder Granddad became an author; his writing was so freaking good it scared me.

"So I'm guessing he mentioned my grandfather and the… beatings?" he asked hesitantly.

I nodded. There was something wrong with Onyx, and I knew that he agreed with me. I knew I had to do something about it before his migraines ate him alive.

But what could I do whan I didn't even know what the problem really was?