The glass shattering. His coarse hands. The windshield.

My nails scraped my scalp, cutting into the skin. I tugged my hair violently, shrill screams exiting my cracked lips. The flashbacks were returning. The memories. I locked my wrists around my ankles, rocking back and forth as If I were an antique chair.

I clutched the rim of the can, barfing down the remains of breakfast. The blood was still imminent in the mixture, growing worse every day. An hour, it seems at times. And so was my worry. Of course, Mom couldn't take me to a doctor. She wasn't...stable. Plus, she had the papers needed to schedule an appointment. Well, at least I think she did.

My stomach ached for relief, but the painkillers weren't helping. I didn't swallow more than what was listed, due to my extreme fear of drugs. (Can you guess why? Hint: She's in the next room over, zombie-like, and reeks of alcohol and vomit.) She first overdosed when he doctor prescribed her a bottle of Anti-depressants. It just escalated from there.

"Dad!" I yelled. His sharp swerves and turns were causing me to heave a great deal of worry. I never noticed the smell of his breath until it was too late. The fragrance? Beer.

I bit my finger, keeping myself from shrieking. It didn't work. My body shook with fear. I didn't want to remember any more than that. But the horror flick didn't cease there. Oh, no. It replayed. And replayed. And...replayed.

His body was still against the damp soil of the forest. We were about 10 miles away from a hospital. The car broke down. Dad was dead.

"No!" I shrilled. My tone was ear-splitting. But I didn't care. It was my fault he died. I should've noticed his breath, the alcohol. I should've stopped him. He didn't leave that night for the bar. He drove the the grocery store. With me beside him.

We crashed. He flew through the shattered windshield.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Do-do that again." I whispered to Fang. His face was but a mere few centimeters away. I could sense the way his eyes gazed over me, softening as they passed over the wounds. He reached for my hand. I let him take hold of my palms.

"Do what?" He smirked. I huffed silently, feeling the atmosphere thicken around me. Like a big glop of molasses. His index finger pressed circles into the side of my wrist, sliding over my bandages with a touch as smooth as silk.

"That...you know. What you just did." I felt embarrassed. And I could just hear the flush coating my face. Fang, however, was sitting there, amused at my request. I rolled my eyes and stood up. I was humiliated enough already. I could live without one...thing.

My feet padded toward the door, clicking against the wood with an irritated 'plink'. I pinched the bridge of my nose. My throat was impeccably sore lately, unable to speak without wincing from the pain.

"Wait. Max." Fang's hand snaked around my wrist, twisting me a whole 360 degrees. And once again I felt the molasses. The thick, annoying molasses that floated in the air around us. I wanted to slam my head against a wooden board. But yet I also wanted to relish this seemingly intense moment with him.

He lowered his lips onto mine, an electric buzz surging through me. I felt...amazing. Like nothing was wrong. Like everything was right. Perfection was still my leashed pet, constant and...well perfect. But no matter how hard I tried, no 'lost' poster would ever find me what I've misplaced. But for now? I was going to pretend like everything was okay. For Fang.

His hair felt like silk against my touch, and I swore I heard a moan emit from the back of his throat. But maybe I was just hearing things. Or not. He slithered his palms against my hips, pulling me closer to his chest. My heart was pounding, knocking against my chest plate.

To my disappointment, he pulled away, kissing the tip of my nose before gauging my reaction. My heart felt as if it were to burst any moment. I took a step toward him, lightly tapping the ground with the tip of my shoe.

"You idiot." I breathed. His eyes widened.

"Do that again."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Total yipped happily, licking the tips of my fingers. The alarm clock blared throughout the room, playing some loud song I couldn't possibly label. I yawned. My arms extended, touching the wall, as I stretched my tired muscles.

It was school. Everyone had gotten a week off. I didn't know why, but all I could tell was that I was in for one hell of a beating from Sam and Dylan. The scabs across my scalp begged me to pick them, but I didn't. The last thing I needed was more scars.

It wasn't really awkward after mine and Fang's kiss. It was just to cheer me up, anyway, I knew. But I yearned for that feeling again. I don't want to say butterflies. Too cliche. Yes, thats it. Like you're at the tip of the rollercoaster, about to feel the sensation of G-force. Yes. That will do.

Basically, I wanted that relief again. I felt normal. I felt...me. Fang was slowly cracking me open once more and I was oblivious to the whole thing. All I knew was that he was the one who kept me standing. I would be but an emotionless wall if he hadn't reappeared.

It was all Fang.

Hello, My watermalones! Hoped you like the Fax. Surprisingly, I loved this chap! And I even know how I'm going to end the story. The problem hasn't been introduced yet but it will. Like I said before, BEAR WITH ME POR FAVOR (that how you spell it?) Doesn't por favor (?) sound like a better name for friend than amigos in spanish? Well I think so. I'm just weird.

Anyways, I actually have my next story planned. Summary in next chap, but let me know what you think of the title (I FEEL SO GOOD ABOUT IT EEEHHEHEHEHEHH! *BARFS RAINBOWS*):

My Ex-Boyfriend, The Werewolf. It will be a Fax. Of course. TELL MEH WHAT YAH THINK ABOOT DAH TITLE!

Q: Anybody ever heard of a band called "The Neighbourhood"?