I. Am. Pissed.
Tank: Um . . . why?
Me: You tube is giving me problems! I try to play a song on my Queue and it'll stop in the middle of the song. That's a reason to get me pissed. And me pissed is not a good thing. It means a very endangered Tank.
Tank: WHAT?
Me: All those fangirls are gonna be so sad when I kill you. Ha! I'm already laughing. Maybe I won't kill Tank or the owner of You tube. But I'll still think about it. Just like I'm thinking of ways to kill Justin Bieber . . .
Tank: She has a list hanging over her bed, and when she comes up with an idea she squeals like a little girl and writes it down. It's starting to worry all of us.
Disclaimer: I no owny Maxie Ridey. Dammitty!
^$##%&*^$##
I was sitting in my room, tuning my guitar when Dr. M knocked on my door.
"Come in!" I said/yelled through the door.
Dr. M walked into my room, holding the house phone out to me. "Max, it's someone from Willow Hospital."
Willow . . . that's where J.J lives! (A/N: I don't know if that's a real town, so we're just gonna pretend, m'kay?) I snatched the phone from her hand and she walked out of the door, closing it behind her.
I put the phone to my ear and said, "Hello?"
"Um, yes," a male voice replied. "Is this Maximum Ride?"
"Yes, this is she." I never told you I had manners? Well. Guess you missed that.
"Well, um, you were on J.J's emergency list . . ."
"What happened?" I asked, standing up from my bed and rummaging through my drawers.
"Well, she was shot in the side. And she isn't looking good. We think you should come see her before things are . . . too late." I could here him gulp.
I pulled clothes from my drawers. "I'll be right there," I said and hung up the phone. I had stayed cool during that conversation. On the inside, I was screaming and clawing the eyes out of whoever shot her. I was gonna kill Ramone. I threw the phone at the wall, happy when I heard the crack that meant it was broken. I dumped the change of clothes into my bag and stopped. Guitar, violin? Violin, guitar? I went with my guitar.
Someone knocked on my door and said, "Max, are you alright?" Fang.
I stuffed my guitar into it's case and grabbed my bag. I walked out of my room, and pushed past Fang.
"Max! You're not leaving, are you?" he asked, grabbing my wrist. I pulled out of his hold, anger fueling my strength. I walked into the living room.
"I gotta go," I said through clenched teeth and grabbed my car keys.
"When are you gonna be back?" Dr. M asked.
"I donna know." I walked out of the door to the garage, where my black car was parked. I hopped into the car and revved the mustang's engine. I opened the garage door with the remote and was about to pull out when I heard Iggy say to Fang, "You know we have to follow her, right?"
I didn't wait until he answered. I sped out of the garage and down the street at a speed that would make a professional NASCAR driver pee his pants.
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I pulled my guitar case out of the backseat and walked towards the hospital, my bag in hand. I walked up to the receptionist who smiled brightly at me.
"Welcome to Willow Hospital, how can I help you?"
"Yeah, J.J. Marks. Room number. Now," I snarled. She flinched slightly.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. We're not allo-"
She didn't finish because I reached over the counter and fisted her shirt. "You're gonna tell me what room she's in, or I punch in your face."
She gulped and said, "ICU, room three."
I let go of her shirt and started to run towards the ICU rooms. Who knew how much time she had left?
When I got there, I didn't knock. I walked right in.
"Max, thank God you're here," Mrs. Jones said.
I nodded and sat next to J.J. "Hey, Jennifer-Joy."
I have to admit it. She looked like death. She was a pale-ish, gray-ish color and her hair was lying limply around her shoulders. And she was real thin. She had only been here for a few hours, but it looked more like weeks.
"Hey, Maxie," she rasped. Her voice was forced and choked, unlike her usual upbeat tone.
I moved a strand piece of hair from her face. "Hows it going?"
"Pretty good." She forced a laugh, and I smiled.
She went back to a normal face. "Maxie?"
"Yeah?" I knew what was coming, but I didn't really feel like doing it.
Just then, Iggy and Fang walked into the room. I glared at them. Why did they follow me? Idiots.
I turned back to J.J. "What is it?"
"Sing for me, Maxie," she said.
I was about to say no, but when I looked into her eyes I knew it was now or never. I sighed and pulled out my guitar. I readied the guitar and began to play and sing.
"This world will never be,
What I expected,"
I heard gasps in the background, but I was too focused on the music.
"And if I don't belong,
Who would have guessed it?
I will not leave alone,
Everything that I own.
Too make you feel like it's not too late.
It's never too late.
Even if I say,
It'll be alright.
Still I hear you say,
You want to end your life.
Now and again we try,
To just stay alive.
Maybe we'll turn it all around,
'Cause it's not too late.
It's never too late.
No one will ever see,
This side reflected.
And if there's something wrong,
Who would have guessed it?
And I have left alone,
Everything that I own.
To make you feel like,
It's not too late.
It's never too late.
Even if I say,
It'll be alright.
Still I hear you say,
You want to end your life.
Now and again we try,
To just stay alive.
Maybe we'll turn it all around,
'Cause it's not too late.
It's never too late.
The world we knew,
Won't come back.
The time we've lost,
Can't get back.
The life we had,
Won't be ours anymore.
This world will never be
What I expected.
And if I don't belong.
Even if I say,
It'll be alright.
Still I hear you say,
You want to end your life.
Now and again we try,
To just stay alive.
Maybe we'll turn it around,
'Cause it's not too late.
It's never too late.
Maybe we'll turn it around,
'Cause it's not too late.
It's never too late (It's never too late),
It's not too late,
It's never too late."
The first word that escaped someone's lips: "Wow."
I turned and saw Fang and Iggy staring at me in amazement. Well, Iggy had his mouth almost dropped to the floor and Fang's emotions played in his eyes. I smirked at them. I turned back to J.J.
"Happy?" I asked her.
She smiled at me and nodded. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep."
I looked at my watch. Ten o'clock. Damn. It had been that late when I got here? I thought I had drove faster than that.
"Alright, J," I said and kissed the top of her head, which was a bit cold. I said, "I'm gonna spend the night here, if that's ok."
"Of course," Mr. Jones said.
I went into the bathroom and changed into my long sleeved black t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms. When I came back out, Fang and Iggy said they'd sleep in the hallway. I agreed then took a spot on the chair next to J.J. I propped my feet up against her bed.
"G'night, Jennifer-Joy," I said, barely a whisper.
"Night, Maximum," she answered. I hadn't even thought she'd heard it. I closed my eyes and slipped into a peaceful sleep.
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I was woken up by an annoying beeping sound, doctors rushing into the room, and nurses pushing me out into the hallway. Fang and Iggy were awake, obviously. I sat down, my back against the wall, and my knees pulled up to my chest. I didn't now what had happened.
Fang sat beside me and put and arm around my shoulders. "It'll be ok," he cooed.
I stayed silent, praying to whoever was up there that he was right.
I guess now would be a good time to explain J.J's past. Ramone was J.J's step-brother, whom the only person he cared for is himself. Ramone was a leader of a major gang, and tried to get J.J. involved in it. She said no. He said she'd pay. And she did. With the life of her parents. That was how J.J. got into foster care, and is now where she is.
The doctor's voice brought me out of my own little world, "Max, can I talk to you?"
I nodded and he kneeled in front of me. "Max, um, I'm sorry. She's gone."
She's gone. She's gone. That was all that went through my mind. I was frozen in shock. I couldn't move. I could barely breath. I don't know how much later, but Fang eventually picked me bridal style and brought me to his car. He laid me down in the backseat and buckled me in. I curled up into a ball and waited for what felt like hours for us to get home, but it only took about ten minutes.
^$%#$^&&
I laid in my bed, tired though I had slept for about two days. I felt like an empty shell, completely lifeless.
Angel came into my room and said, "Max, today's the funeral. Do you want to go?"
I nodded and dressed in a black skirt, a black button up shirt, and black dress shoes like a zombie. I got into the car with the rest of us, besides Fang and Iggy, who were following us in their car, and pressed my forehead against the window. I watched as a light rain splayed over the it, each drop running down the glass.
I won't bore you with the details of the funeral. When we were burying her, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away from the grieving people, my dress shoes flying after me. I ignored the thorns that pierced my skin, the rocks that dug into my tough feet. I ignored the burning in my lungs and throat as I ran and ran and ran.
I was finally at the house, and I unlocked the door and decided I needed to vent. When I vented I did one thing – I went to music. I ran to the grand piano they had in the large living room and sat down on the bench. I had my playlist memorized and I flipped through it, finally finding a song that would stop all of this from coming up. I pounded the keys of I don't Care by Apocalyptica, (A/N: That's the only song of theirs I like) trying to convince myself I didn't care.
My fingers hit the keys so hard, there might be permanent dents in them. My fingers slipped a few times, due to the fact I haven't played the piano in four years.
Then I did something I also hadn't done in four years: I cried, my salty tears spilling over the keys. I cried for J.J and, most importantly, I cried for myself.
Fang POV
I watched as Max ran away from the burial. Dr. M was about to follow her when I said, "I'll get her." And ran towards my car. When I got there, I realized Max was already gone. Damn, she's fast.
I hopped into my car and started it, pressing on the gas. A few minutes later, I was at the Martinez's and I walked in the doors, to find Max pounding in the keys to I don't care. I mentally winced each time her finger pounded into a key. Then she did something unexpected: She started to cry. Max. Doesn't. Cry. She was barely shivering when she fell into the lake.
I walked up to her and put an arm around her shoulders, letting her cry it out on my shirt. I could barely stand it. Seeing the girl I loved in pain. (A/N: Awwwwww!) She eventually stopped shaking from her crying, but was still shedding silent ones.
"Fang," she said in a quiet voice.
"Yeah, Max?" I asked, looking down at her. God, she's gorgeous.
"I don't think *hiccup* I can stay here."
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the phone. Max? Leave? Oh, Hell no.
Max POV
After I told Fang I had to leave, he lifted up my chin with his pointer finger and started to kiss away my silent tears, a warmth blooming like roses each place he kissed.
"What are you doing?" asked a quiet voice. I then realized that voice was mine. I had forgotten what it was like to cry, what it did to you.
"Changing your mind," he said, then pressed his lips to mine. I put my hands on his shoulders, about to push him away. But, here's the thing, I didn't want to. (A/N: All together this time: Awwwwww!)
Once he kissed me, I felt my protective ice crack and shatter, and a warmth spread over me. A warmth I hadn't felt in a long, long time. It finally reached my heart and I realized I loved Fang with all my heart and soul. Ah! Cheesy comments, run for your lives!
I heard several, "awwwwwws" come from the doorway and felt a blush rise up to my cheeks. I didn't put it down or hide it away. I let it come, along with all of my other feelings I had been hiding for four years. Four years too long.
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Tank: You killed J.J!
Me: Really? I didn't notice that! Note mucho sarcasm here. And to all of you "don't kill " out there: Suck it up!
Tank: You are a very cruel person. J.J. just died and you're telling people to suck it up!
Me: What are you talking about? She's not really dead! She's right there.
J.J.: You're insane, you know that?
Me: That's what the psych evaluation said, but I think it's wrong.
Tank: You really are nuts.
James: And why are you killing my characters?
Me: For the last time, she's not really dead!
J.J: But if I stay in this room any longer I will be. Where's your floor?
Me: What is this "floor" you speak of?
J.J: Does anyone know what's really wrong with her?
Tank: No. That's the problem. We've been trying to get her fixed, but our lives are too hard for that.
- Sanity
