Hey there, sunshines.

Here's chapter ten. Enjoy and eat bokchoi, if that's how you spell it.

To Avian-American Gurl, your idea was so good! Unfortunately the whole story is already set out :(. I really liked your idea and now I'm wishing I could do it, but that would totally change the plotline that I've currently got laid out. I'm sorry! And I actually love your idea, haha, it really would've been awesome.

- PINE -

I stare at myself in the mirror, a small frown creasing my brow. I look like a freak.

I mean, silver eyes? Really? Couldn't it at least be something that's remotely normal, like blue? I've always wanted blue eyes.

But, no. I get silver. Silver McFreaky.

They sort of ... shine. In a different way from normal eyes. It's like they ... glitter. Which sucks, because that means I, in some way, relate to Edward Cullen.

Kill me now.

Well, not really. He's already dead, so —

OH, MY GOD, I AM A LOSER.

Okay. Moving on.

Trying desperately to ignore the supernatural freakiness of my eyes, I shove a comb through the messy locks of my hair. It seems like every time I get the comb through, my hair gets messier. Is that even possible?

Eventually, I just give up and throw my dirty-blonde hair into an admittedly knotty high ponytail.

Unable to distract myself any longer, my gaze goes back to linger on the glimmering silver of my irises.

Why? Why're they like this?

They represent everything that can be represented.

I yelp and jump into the air, thinking somebody was behind me, before I realize it was my good ol' buddy Voice. Fun.

(... Sarcasm.)

Mainly, they represent history, since I've come along, continues the Voice, but the actual color of the irises depends on you. Your soul is silver, hence the color of your eyes.

Yay, silver eyes! Silver soul! I think sarcastically. Aren't I lucky?

Actually, the more unique the color, the better. Silver actually means something, you know.

Oh, yes. Do debrief me, sir. I just adore your lectures, I say (think?). I roll my eyes, and I practically hear his sigh.

The meaning of silver in this particular case is that you are good-natured, protective, loving and fun. However, you sometimes don't make the best decisions and don't think before you act. Despite this, you have a good heart and are capable, brave and determined.

'Yippee,' I grumble out loud. I purposely begin bumping my head against the cool rim of the bathroom sink.

Could you at least give me some answers? I ask, slightly pleading. Why do I get this? Why are you even in my head?

For a few seconds I just sit there, not sure whether or not I'll get a reply. After thirty more, however, it soon becomes clear that he's gone.

Typical.

I concentrate as hard as I possibly can to change my eye color back to brown. A few minutes later, beads of sweat on my brow from the effort, my irises manage to change back to a shade close enough to the usual.

Slightly irritated, I huff and storm out of the bathroom, flinging the door shut behind me. It's times like these when you need cookies.

Descending the stairs, the delicious scent of baking cookie dough wafted up my nostrils. I quickened my pace, my eyes widening in excitement.

As soon as I get to the kitchen, I come over to Mom to check her progress. The cookies are almost ready; the chocolate chips can be seen melting.

'How long?' I ask eagerly. Mom laughs lightly.

'A few minutes,' she replies. She scrapes a hand through her dark brown tresses.

I sit myself on the floor, gazing up at her. She looks so stressed, so ... unlike my old mom, from back before Ella's death. That woman was lively, always laughing and smiling ... but this one? She was hardly recognizable.

'How's school going?' she asked me, in an idle attempt at small talk.

'Okay, I suppose,' I responded. 'Nothing particularly special, but nothing truly horrendous yet, either.'

'Yet?'

'It'll happen, with my luck.' I grimace. 'On the bright side, I got into the traveling state orchestra for Washington.'

'Really? Good work!' Mom beams, and her face lights up. She looks ten years younger, just for that couple of seconds. 'How'd the auditions go?'

It goes on like that for a while. We just talk about everything and nothing, and I find myself happier than I've been in a long time. I laugh and I smile and I just find myself enjoying the company of the one woman who always makes me feel safe.

When the oven finishes its job, Mom gets up and takes out the cookies, placing them carefully on the countertop with mittened hands. I hop to my feet and rush at the delightful pieces of heaven, but their goodness doesn't break our conversation.

Unfortunately, our talk ends up going to less cheery topics, as we both knew it would eventually. It was unavoidable.

'Dad's condition?' I ask her, nibbling on a choc-chip. 'Better, or ...?'

'Worse,' she answers, the smile I have placed there faltering. 'He hardly ever wakes up from his sleeps, and he's eating less. A lot less. His bones are beginning to stick out.

'No one knows what's actually wrong with him. Yes, he has lung cancer, but they said they've never seen a condition like his. They think ...' She pauses, and swallows. 'They think he may have a mental issue, and has to be moved to an institution that deals with sickness and ... and ...'

She doesn't have to say it. Insanity.

A tiny tear escapes the corner of Mom's eye. I'm astounded. She's one of the strongest people I know, but this? Definitely out of character.

I go to her and hug her tightly. She returns the gesture, and we stay like that for a while, until she kisses my forehead in a motherly way, and pulls back, just gazing at me.

'You've grown into such a strong young woman,' she comments quietly. I look to my feet, a little bit uncomfortable. Compliments always leave me lost for words. 'I know you'll fall in love someday.' She restrains a smile. 'I'm sure somebody's already fallen for you!'

'Mom!' I exclaim, embarrassed. She shrugs.

'It's the truth! I'm not going to lie.'

'Mom ...' I mumble, cheeks flaming.

'Or are you already in love with somebody?' she asks me, smiling full-out now.

I hit her playfully on the arm and laugh, blushing. 'Stop it!'

'You are, aren't you? You're blushing!'

'Mooooommm!' I shriek. She laughs and laughs, until I can't help but join in.

This is the way it should've been, before one car trip to the Rocky Mountains changed everything.

Eventually our laughter dies down. Once I completely finish (or destroy with my vicious teeth) the cookies, I decide to go for a walk, for some fresh air. I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder, only bothering to grab my keys and call a goodbye out to Mom before exiting.

The air is cool and fresh, a light breeze ruffling my hair. I smile softly and walk down the footpath, towards where I know a large, beautiful park is located.

It only takes me three minutes to get there. Once I arrive, I sit myself down on the edge of an elaborate water fountain and tip my head back, finally finding some sense of relaxation. That is, until —

'Hiya, Max!'

'Hey, Nudge,' I groan, recognizing the perky voice. 'Why're you here?'

'I'm just passing through. I'm walking my neighbor's dog for some extra cash. Look at him! Isn't he adorable?'

I bother to open my eyes at her excited tone and glance at the dog. I bite back laughter. 'He looks like a deformed monkey.'

'He's so cute! He had a haircut yesterday, which is why it's all tufty up by the head. But he's so sweet! Look at his bow!' Nudge's face is flushed with happiness; she's always been a major dog person.

Then I stop. 'Wait,' I say slowly, 'it's a "he"?'

She nods vigorously.

'Uh ... how come he's wearing a pink tutu, fuchsia bows and purple booties, then?' I ask faintly, looking at the dog in a sort of sickened wonder.

'That's how Helena and Alberto dress him,' Nudge said matter-of-factly. 'They told me it's what makes him win all the competitions!'

'The ugliness ones, clearly,' I mutter. To be honest, the dog looks like it just wants to roam free (as free as the wind blows ...) and get rid of the horrible pink catastrophes that it's been shoved into.

'Well, I gotta go,' Nudge sighs, checking her phone for the time. 'I'll see you tomorrow!' She starts to walk away, then stops and turns back. 'Have you finished your gothic art essay?'

My eyes widen in horror. 'Shit! I haven't started! When's it due?'

'Don't worry, I haven't finished either. Text Lissie, maybe. And ... due date ... tomorrow? I think it's in our second lit class —'

'Fuh — farmer!' I exclaim, panicking. 'I've gotta go back home and work on it! See ya, Fudge.'

She waves at me and continues her walk as I start to jog back the way I came.

'Hey, wait!' someone calls. I hiss in irritation and spin around.

'Nudge, if you — oh!' I stop. In front of me stands somebody who is fairly familiar, but I can't place the name ...

'You visited Mr Martinez a while back, right?' the young man asks. I nod, and then it all comes back to me.

I smile at him and nod. 'You're Ash, yeah?'

He nods and holds out a hand for me to shake. I do so, adding, 'I'm Max.'

'Max? Unusual name for a girl,' he comments.

'Ashkor is an unusual name altogether,' I say, an eyebrow raised.

He grins. 'Touché.'

I take a moment to look him over, and am startled by the differences from when he was in doctors uniform and now, in casual. He just wears dark jeans, slung low on his hips, and a navy blue t-shirt. Instead of looking geeky, as I first thought at Ashford (haha! He works at Ashford and his name is — nevermind ...), his wavy, dark brown hair looks sort of ... hot.

'So, why the rush before?' he asks, hopefully not noticing my not-so-well-hidden checking-out that I'd been busy doing.

'I, uh, just realized I've got an essay due tomorrow that I haven't started on,' I say. blushing slightly. I try extra hard to keep my eyes chocolate-brown, and decide in the back of my mind to buy myself some colored eye contacts.

'Bad luck,' he says. 'How old are you?'

I takes me a second to realize, but we've slowly begun walking in the other direction, away from my house. I don't really care, actually.

'Sixteen,' I say, 'but I'm seventeen in five days.'

'Happy birthday in five days,' he grins. 'I'm nineteen. I'm a bit of a nerd — I finished high school when I was ... twelve, I think? I started studying to be a doctor in the same year, and began working full-time in Ashford back in March.'

From the very first sentence, my eyebrows had been straight up my forehead. 'Wow,' I say breathlessly. 'That's a few, uh, achievements, there.'

'It's okay to be freaked out,' he says conversationally, as if it doesn't bother him whether I run screaming or not. 'Most people are. It's just who I am. I can't help that.'

I immediately took a liking to him.

'What was it like, being the youngster amid all the oldies?' I ask. He snickers.

'If you put it that way, it sounds worse than it was. I was just a bit shorter, but my mental age was right up there.' He stops. 'Wow, I feel stuck-up.'

I laugh. 'Don't worry about it.'

We walk in contented silence for a minute, before we both remember my homework.

'Maybe you should go back ...' he says, but I can tell he's disappointed. 'You might want to get that essay worked on.'

'Nah, screw it,' I sigh. 'I'll just copy off Lissie.' At the look on his face, I grin. 'Shush! I'm not as smart as you!'

Wait.

Hold on.

Lightbulb!

'How about ...' I began. 'How about you do it for me? Or at least come over and help ...? I'd expect it to be a piece of cake, since you're smarter than Hermione Granger, so ... what do you say?'

He rolls his eyes and laughs. 'Sure, if that's okay. And if your mom's fine with it ...?'

'She'll be okay,' I smirk, thinking back to our conversation this morning. 'Come on. Shall we go?'

'We shall,' he grins, complying. So we turn and head back to my house, distracting ourselves with idle small talk along the way. I find myself smiling and laughing a lot more than usual, and I'm reluctant for my time with him to end.

Upon arriving home, I smell the utterly phenomenal smell of even more freshly-baked cookies wafting along in the air. I rush to the kitchen, with Ash following unsurely behind.

Mom was in there, carefully laying the cookies one-by-one onto a gleaming china plate. Her eyes fall on me, putting a smile on her face, and quickly drift to Ash beside me.

'And who's this?' she asks slowly, curious.

'Ash,' he says, holding out a hand for her to shake. She obliged.

'I'm Max's mom, Valencia,' she responds, looking him over. 'Call me Val.'

The whole situation is slightly awkward, so I quickly jump in. 'He's helping me out with my homework. He's a qualified doctor.'

'And ... how old are you?' she asks faintly.

'Nineteen,' Ash sighs, probably exasperated with the question that must be asked far too often in his life.

'Wow! So —'

'Come on, Ash,' I say quickly, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out with me. 'Let's go.' I look back, and Mom winks "slyly" at me. In response, I roll my eyes.

She giggles girlishly and mouthes, 'Ooh la-la!' I proceed to turn and ignore her.

I pull Ash along behind me as we make our way to my room. Once we walk through the door, we both halt. I laugh sheepishly. 'Heh ... heh ...'

Okay, so, I want you to get a picture in your head of a dump. Fully loaded. Maybe even like the world-wide dump in 'Wall-E'. Then, picture a beautiful bedroom with the floors perfectly polished, the bedsheets without a single crease. Combine the two ...

That is my bedroom.

Honesty. It's so bad I know Ash's wincing (I refuse to look at him), and I second the gesture. It kinda stinks too, if you know what I mean.

So, all in all, the perfect place to rest at night, am I right?

'Omigosh, I am so sorry!' I blurt, after a few seconds of horrible, painfully awkward silence. 'I totally forgot — I don't usually notice it, and just go with it, and —'

He puts a hand on my shoulder and grins playfully. 'Nothing you can do about that but clean up, right?'

I raise an eyebrow. 'Well, yeah, but ...'

'Come on, then,' he sighs. 'Let's get started.'

I stare at him in disbelief. 'You. A boy. Willing to clean.' Eyes huge, I lean against the wall. 'I must be in another universe.'

'Not another universe,' he chuckles. 'I'm just not your average guy.'

So, we got to work, with some reluctance on my part. Every so often, I think back to when I was a little girl. I always woke up at six and cleaned my bedroom, doing my bed specially to surprise my parents when they awoke. I'd be dressed and ready for school, my hair neat and proper and my breakfast already eaten. I smirk to myself. How it's changed. I'm the total opposite now.

Gradually, minutes pass into hours, and the sky outside begins to dim. A definite improvement has come along to my room, and, surprisingly, I enjoy myself while we're at it. Normally I'm forced to clean my room by my mom, but I find a quick bond growing between Ash and I, and neither of us feel the least bit uncomfortable no matter what we say.

After a long, long while spent vacuuming the carpeted floor (that's supposed to be white, but the dirt turned it a sort of ... brown), we both collapse side-by-side on my now-neat bed. We slap hands in an enthusiastic high-five.

'Good work, team,' jokes Ash. He stares up at the ceiling. 'I cannot believe we just did that. Honestly. Your room is unrecognizable.'

I laugh and laugh, a little bit unsure of why I'm laughing in the first place. When it subsides, I say, 'Yeah, well, we're just that talented.'

He groans. 'What about your homework?'

I shrug. 'Eh, I'll fail. Don't really care that much.'

There's silence for a moment, and I glance at him. His expression is utterly horrified. Giggles shake my shoulders.

'Sorry,' I say, grinning. 'I keep forgetting your ... high standards.'

Ash snorts. 'Yeah, well. Can't be helped.' We sit in contented silence for a few minutes, until he asks, 'Do you wanna go out sometime?'

I look at him strangely. 'On a date?'

His cheeks redden. 'Uh ... yeah, sorta.'

Smiling, I say, 'Sure!'

Surprised, he stares at me. 'Are you joking?'

'Uh, no? Why would I be joking?'

'I cannot believe you said yes.'

'Why would I not?'

He opens his mouth to answer, but stops, his cheeks positively flaming. I decide to let the question go.

'So, where to?' I ask him instead, turning on my side to properly face him. 'Like, where are we going?'

'I'll text you when I find a place,' he mumbles. I giggle at his embarrassment, and he shoots me a mock glare.

'What's your number?' he questions after a second. 'I never got it.'

Smiling all the while, I grab a pen and scrawled my ten-digit number on his hand. He copies the gesture on mine, then gets slowly to his feet.

'I should be off,' he sighs. 'I've got the night shift at the hospital.'

'Oh.' I can't help feeling disappointed as I stand and dust myself off. 'I'll see you when I see you, then. Thanks for the help with my room.'

'No problem,' he says, making his way out the door. 'I know where the exit is!' he calls as he walks down the hall.

Letting out a heavy gust of air, I lay back onto my bed and shut my eyes. I fight back a smile.

Screw homework. He's a ton better.

'Have fun?'

My eyes snap open and I shoot into a sitting position. 'Piss off, Fang,' I grumble.

His eyes are unusually hard, revealing nothing. 'Planning anything for your ... fun night out with him?' he presses.

'Not yet,' I say warily. Fang stands in shadows, casting darkness across his features. His high cheekbones make his cheeks appear hollow, hidden in the lack of light. I can't help but shudder. He looks so intimidating, standing there with his black-clad body blending into the night.

Choosing to ignore the slight twinge of fear in me, I get to my feet once more to turn on my bedside lamp. I then go to my door and flip off the main light switch, making the light in my room softer, gentler.

I look up at the man who stands before me. 'Why're you here?' I ask.

'Aren't I allowed to drop in for visits anymore?' he says. Normally, I wouldn't think anything of the question, but now ...

'Of course you are,' I breathe, taking a step back when he takes one closer. 'Since when were you not?'

He raises an eyebrow. For a moment, I think he's not going to say a word. But then he's directly in front of me, an inch between our bodies; so close I can smell the scent of fresh pine on his skin. The air radiates with visible tension.

'You can't be with him.' Fang's voice is like stone over stone.

'Why not?' I demand stubbornly. His jaw clenches.

'He'll distract you from what you need to do. He'll be the death of you!'

'And how would you know? How do I know you're not just jealous?' I taunt. It was meant to come out playful, but the words sounded frightfully harsh.

I cry out when his hand comes forward and grabs my hip, pulling me roughly closer to him. I can't help the tingles running up my spine — Fang feels my heartbeat quickening, and smirks coldly. One of his fingers comes up to tilt my chin, bringing our faces closer. In a part of my mind, I expect him to kiss me.

But instead of doing what, hell, the huge majority of me is aching for him to do, he hisses, 'You're fooling yourself. All this crap that you're doing in your life — dating, working, immersing yourself in pointless studying — is just so you can pretend that what's really happening, isn't!' His chest rises and falls at an increased pace, and his warm hand is pressed against my lower back, the other tight around my neck. Thankfully he isn't choking me, but it doesn't make me any less scared.

However, being me, I shoot back, 'You think I want this? You think I want to die trying in vain to save you guys, who've totally ruined my whole life just by entering it? I don't want this, Fang. You've fucked up everything! I can't even live anymore without knowing that soon, someone in my family — whether it be Dad or me, or somebody totally unexpected — is going to die!'

Fang pulled me closer, so that our bodies were pressed together. Chests, legs ... his nose was less than an inch from mine. But the situation was far from romantic.

'You know what? Don't bother saving us. You're a selfish bitch who only looks out for herself. I can get that you don't want to do it for me. But what about Angel? Hell, what about Ella? Your own sister! You're letting your head — which is definitely mistaken — turn you into a fucked-up whore!' I flinched.

'I don't even want to see you,' he spat. 'You disgust me. Let's hope the Keeper can find someone else to help the dead while you have fun fucking your new, perfect boyfriend.' He glares fiercely, then adds coldly, 'You're nothing but a child.'

His words hurt so much I forget to breathe. Hot, burning tears brim at my eyes, so I shut them quickly. Fang stands there for a moment longer, still tight against me. I sneak a quick look at him, to see his jaw still clenched and his eyes squeezed together. An urge overcomes me, to reach my hand out and rake it through his soft hair, taking back my words and his. To kiss his jaw and ease his tension — but there is a flash of light, and he is gone, leaving me to sink to the floor in a numb heap, not even feeling or registering the tears that fall pitifully from my eyes.

Wings spread out behind me, I let out a huff. I'm hundreds and hundreds of feet high, where no one can reach me. Not Fang, not Ash, not Mom, not Dad ...

But no matter how hard I try, I can't fix the pain biting at me.

Clouds are all around me, and I try not to go through them. I've learnt from experience — flying straight through a cloud is not fun, and requires a boiling hot shower afterwards so that you don't suffer from severe hypothermia.

I've slowly been getting used to the wings on my back. At first, I was so unbalanced and disorientated that I had to stay in bed for days. Now, however, they feel just right, and I feel as if I've been missing them my whole life.

In public, it's hard to see them unless my shirts are so clingy that everything is visible — which I'm incredibly thankful for. It's not like I wear them anyway, unless Nudge intervenes.

Nobody outside of the spirits - Ella, Angel and Fang - the Voice, the Keeper and myself know. So, nobody normal.

The feathers are light and the wings themselves are thin and flexible, molding easily to my back whenever I fold them in. Trust me, it makes life easier.

I don't know how long I've been flying. I don't really care. I texted Mom to let her know I'm staying at a friend's house overnight. Which, of course, is a lie, considering that the closest friend would be hundreds to thousands of miles away.

A text came from Ash a little while ago, requesting dinner tomorrow night. I didn't reply, instead switching off the device and letting it drop from my hand. I watched impassively as it fell and fell, as if in slow motion, to the ground far, far away.

I estimate it to be about three o'clock in the early morning. No birds are out, and so far, I've only crossed one airplane with the blinds drawn on all windows but one, through which I saw a sleeping child beside his mother.

My stomach grumbles in a tell-tale way. I roll my eyes. I haven't eaten since the cookies I scarfed down back at home, and haven't paid my hunger the slightest bit of attention. Most of me pleads just to stay in the air and go hungry, for what's the point of food when you wish yourself to be gone? The rest — the most rational part of my crackpot I call a brain — tells me sternly to fly lower and find a place to land.

Unwillingly, I decide to follow the latter, and lower my distance from the ground. Soon enough, the ground becomes visible. I grimace at my "luck".

Instead of endless trees and rushing rivers, the surroundings I'm used to back in Virginia, I see miles upon miles of desert.

Well, yippee.

In the far distance, my newly-heightened vision (the better sight came with the silver eyes) lands on the silhouetted shapes of small buildings. A couple of lights dot a few, but other than that, they're washed in darkness.

With a heaving sigh, I speed towards the town. A few minutes later I come to a rough, stumbled landing, full of exhaustion. Note to self: get some coffee, I think.

Nobody is on the rundown dirt road, just as I expected. A couple of hundred feet away sits a good old 7-Eleven, the reliable shop still glowing with cheap lights even at this hour.

I walk slowly towards it, digging through the pockets of my grey jeans to find any cash that I can. My fingers brush a note, and I pull it out: ten dollars.

The automatic doors slide open and a bell rings as I step through, breaking the tranquil night. A girl no older than sixteen looks up from where she has been resting her head, blue eyes drooping.

'Welcome to 7-Eleven,' she drones, her bright pink hair thrown up into a careless high bun. 'How may I help you ...'

'Just looking, thanks,' I say, hurrying to a section where I could find quick food that I could eat at once. 'Is there a twenty-four hour McDonalds around here?'

'No,' she answers, mid-yawn. 'There's one a few miles away, in Granger, but not here.' She doesn't bother to say where "here" is.

My fingers grab a can of Coke from one of the fridges lining the wall, and I place it on the counter before heading back to the aisles.

I decide on a large packet of salt and vinegar chips and two apples. 'Ah, well. I guess it balances out the healthy and the ... not so healthy,' I say cheerfully to myself.

Quickly I place them on the counter. The check-out girl pushes a few buttons, then says, 'Six ninety-five.' I hand her the ten-dollar note.

A few seconds later I am out the door and launching myself into the air, not caring if anybody sees. I just continue to fly and fly, not even knowing where I am.

Night turns to day, and my head pounds from lack of proper water. The Coke successfully rid of my exhaustion and thirst (for now) and the food filled up my rumbling stomach enough to keep me going, but I totally forgot about water. Again following the more sensible part of my head, I fly lower.

I let out a loud laugh in relief when I see trees, especially after that never-ending desert. A large, bustling city is up ahead, tall, glass buildings shimmering in the sun.

Being especially careful not to be seen, I land in a clump of trees outside of the city. I fold my wings back into my shirt and pull down the sleeves of my hoodie before walking out into the fresh sunlight, a cool breeze pushing my hair off my face.

Minutes later, I'm happily in a seat at a diner called "Doria's". A young waitress comes over to place a jug of crystal-clear water on my table, right beside a glass cup. She's about to walk away when I call, 'Excuse me?'

'Yes?' she says, her face clearly showing signs of boredom.

'Can you tell me where we are?' I ask her. She looks at me in confusion, and I lie in a whisper, 'I don't know how I got here. Last time I checked I was in Miami, but some guy dragged me away from the party and ... and now I'm here.' I try to sound as if the thought pains me, and look down at my hands.

'Oh, poor hun,' she says sympathetically. Her voice is accented. 'You're a long way from home. We're in Toronto, Ontario.'

I stop.

Canada. I'm in freaking ... Canada!

I stare at her. 'Are you serious? Oh, my God, I've only got three bucks on me!'

'If you want, I can drive you back to Miami,' she offers kindly. 'I'm off work for three weeks starting tomorrow, and Miami's not far from the place I'm going. I'm meeting my boyfriend Derek, see. I'm sure I could get off work today, and begin my vacation early to get you home.'

'Really?' I say incredulously. She nods. 'Thank you so much!' I exclaim. 'I'm Max.'

She holds out a tanned hand for me to shake. 'Juliette Ramorez — call me Lia. Just wait here a mo', and I'll go check with the boss. Doria's fairly lenient when it comes to this stuff.'

My face broke into a grin. It'll take roughly three days for the two of us to drive to Miami, and then I can fly home — just the escape I've been needing. I can borrow Lia's phone to text some random excuse to Mom, and all will be well.

Right?

There's a part of me that's constantly thinking about last night. The fight with Fang. The harsh words we shared. The things he called me. How very, very close we were. How I could smell his intoxicating scent and feel the warmth of his body, visible to no live human besides myself.

I'm sure I'm not going to see him again. At least, if we have a choice. Considering my goddamn "destiny", he'll probably be forced to show up sooner or later. After our fight, I'm hoping it's later.

But was he right? Am I just selfishly avoiding what I need to do?

I don't know. I just ... he doesn't get the strain. The stress. The pressure. How the fuck am I meant to "save" them anyway?

Lia returns with her apron off and a bag slung over her shoulder, effectively snapping me out of my thoughts. She's grinning from ear to ear, hazel eyes bright. Her unruly dark brown hair has been taken out of its ponytail and now falls to her waist.

'Shall we go?' she asks. I grin and we walk out together. 'Doria let me go, but Dorian — her husband — was willing to chain me to the sink and make me stay.' She snorts. 'He hates anybody leaving in the middle of their shifts, because he always has to take over. He never does anything but sit in his chair and watch. It's kind of creepy, actually.' We laugh.

'Oh, that's my car,' she says, pointing to a shiny, navy-blue Mustang. 'I got him for my birthday.'

We hop in, and I comment, 'This is a really nice car. Lucky!'

Lia laughs. 'It took a lot of bribing on my part.' She pauses. 'Do you mind if we stop by my apartment? I need to pick up my bag. I'm already all packed, so we won't be there a minute ...' I nod my agreement, so she continues talking. 'So, Max. How old are you?'

'Sixteen,' I answer, 'but I'm seventeen on the thirteenth.'

'Cool! Four days! You excited?'

'Not really. I don't do much on birthdays, and I'm not experiencing the best time at the moment.'

Instead of pressing me for details like I thought she would but hoped she wouldn't, she smiles sadly. 'There are definitely pros and there are definitely cons when it comes to being a teenager. I'm almost at the end of my teenager-dom, though,' she sighs.

'How old are you?' I ask curiously.

'Eighteen as of seven months ago, today. I know I've still got a year a half roughly left until my twenties, but God, I feel old!'

I grin. 'I've felt old since I turned ten. I thought double digits made me a grandma!'

We talk like this for a few minutes, until she pulls up at an incredibly tall building. 'This is the biggest apartment block in Ontario,' she says. 'My parents live here, and this is where I'm staying for the time being. I'm here for college, which I'm starting soon, but I lived in Orlando — the place where Derek is — since I was eleven. I only moved recently.' She pauses and looks at the apartment block with a sigh. 'Ah, well. I'll be back in a few. Amuse yourself with my tissue box, as that's the only remotely fun thing here,' she jokes.

When she exits she leaves her keys in the ignition, with the engine off. I switch on the radio and the air conditioning and rest my head onto the white leather seat.

'Fang's really upset, you know.'

My eyes, that've been closed, reopen in a flash. I jump in my seat, the seatbelt restraining me from banging my head against the roof of the car, and turn to face the girl sitting in the back seat. 'Angel!'

'Ella and I are upset too.'

I look at her sadly. 'Angel, hun, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. We were both angry, and ...'

'We're not just upset because of what you said. He said some pretty rough things, too.' Despite her words, there's a smile on her face, making my thoughts shoot to her youth.

She raises a light eyebrow, hearing everything I'm thinking. 'If you really want to know, my mom wasn't always crazy,' she said. 'She was originally a beautiful woman who had everything to live for. Her name was Aura Maria Sanchez. When she was about nineteen, she became involved with a church called St Romanov's. She became devoted to it, but didn't tell Dad. By then she had been married to him for a year.'

'Angel, you don't need to tell me this,' I say quietly.

'No, I want you to know,' she replies. 'I don't know when Mom lost it,' Angel continues, as if I haven't said a thing. 'The church started running her life. She'd sleep there, eat in the diner next door. She practically lived there. But one of the priests noticed her unnatural obsession, and took time away to talk to her. He asked if she was even seeing her husband or family. If she was healthy.

'Mom said she was perfectly fine, but was so angered by his words that she stabbed him, saying that "God disapproved of his horrid behavior towards devotees". St Romanov's turned her away upon their discovery of the injured man, and banned her entry to the top church, though not before calling the police. Mom told them that Dad had been the one who committed the crime. Dad owned up to it, being as kind as he is, and was arrested.

'However, a security tape was discovered a few days later showing her committing the crime. She ran for it, but didn't know that she was pregnant. So she eventually had me, after completely changing her appearance. Brown hair to electric blue, green eyes to topaz, due to contact lenses, tanned skin to pale. She caked her face with makeup, and changed her name to Alina Safeway.

'She returned to Dad a year after she left with me in her arms. She had been staying in Brazil, and lived on the streets. She was very poor and didn't have enough to keep both of us alive — so she went back. He didn't know who she was at first, but gradually realized it was the woman who was formerly his wife, Aura. He didn't even know her anymore.

'I think that was when she went over the brink completely,' says Angel, not seeming too affected by her story. 'She rejoined St Romanov's and attended every single event held. Every night her nose was deep within a bible, and she hardly paid any attention to Dad. If he ever questioned her, she'd go beserk, screaming about how she was doing the work of the Lord, and ... you know, things like that.

'It took Dad a while to realize just how much Mom had changed, though. She had gotten into drugs by then. She smoked marijuana, and had doses of heroin, cocaine, and ecstasy on a regular basis. Whenever she could, she drunk alcohol. She even did those things around me and her newest child, Dylan. I was about three by then.

'Dad only truly understood her condition the day she had Gazzy. She began declaring things about God randomly and wouldn't stop. She started chanting hymns and reciting practically every word in her bible, twenty-four/seven. Her mouth was always moving, whether you could hear the words or not. God had finally screwed her over.

'My father called an institution and told them to take her away. She was locked in a closed ward and attended regular sessions with anybody that had even the slightest chance of helping her ... but none of them made any difference. In fact, it made her worse.

'While this happened, Dylan, Gazzy and I enjoyed quality time with Dad. It was the first and only time I spent without Mom there, destroying my life.

'Anyway, they tried to transfer her to another mental hospital, Truant. In the middle of the transfer she escaped and took the first kid she saw at home — me. She grabbed the keys to her car, which had been left untouched, and ... well, you know the rest. We both died, and Gazzy, Dylan and my father were all saved from unhappy fates that may well have awaited them had my mother stayed alive. She was so far gone she wasn't even human.'

'Oh, Angel,' I whisper. Tears brim at my eyes. 'I'm so sorry ...'

'It isn't your fault. It isn't hers, either. She couldn't help what happened to her. It just did.' Angel smiles warmly at me, and I look away. I can't meet her eyes.

'I'm happy I let that out. The only ones who know are the ones who I had no choice with — Ella, Fang, the Keeper, a few other spirits, and, of course, my dad.' She giggles. 'I feel much better!'

I can't help a tiny smile growing on my lips from her purity. She may've been through a lot of trauma with her mother, but she still has a lot of six-year-old innocence.

But as I watch, her smile fades, along with her laughter. She looks at her hands.

'Sweetie? What's wrong?' I ask gently. For a moment, she disappears completely, and I'm completely startled when she reappears in the driver's seat beside me. Her blue eyes are watery.

Overcome with a bout of motherly affection, I pull her onto my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me tightly, and I find a definite soft spot in me for the small girl.

'I've never had a real mommy,' she whispers into my shoulder. 'This is the closest I've ever been ... my mom never held me, or loved me, or even cared. I was just some tool in her game with God.'

I don't bother with pointless words. Instead, I stroke her blonde curls off her face and kiss her forehead. A few seconds later, I realize that she's fallen asleep.

A minute or so later, I see Lia exit the tall building with a large bag slung over her shoulder. I quickly shake Angel awake, and she looks blearily up at me. Luckily, she hears my thoughts and disappears as quickly as she appeared in the first place.

Lia opens the door and slides in, dumping her bag in the back seat. 'There was a hold-up with the elevator,' she sighs. 'I took longer getting back then I should've, because I had to take the stairs. Mom and Dad's apartment is on level thirty-two.' She winces and rubs her legs. 'This is going to kill in the morning.'

'Unlucky,' I mutter. She nods in agreement as we begin to drive away.

'So, how long does it take to get to Miami?' she asks.

'Roughly three days by car, I think,' I reply. 'Can I borrow your phone? My mom is probably going spastic.'

Lia laughs lightly. 'Go ahead. It's in the glovebox.'

I flip open the glovebox and my eyes immediately land on her phone. It looks expensive.

Seconds later, I've dialed and am waiting for Mom to pick up. Just when I think I'm going to go to message bank, I hear her voice from the other end.

'Hello?'

'Hey, Mom, it's me,' I say. She begins to shout and say things in a quick rush of worried annoyance, but I cut her off. 'Listen, I'm really sorry. I dropped my phone in a friend's pool.'

'Well, that's all good and well,' she growls, 'but you were meant to be home hours ago!'

'I know, and I'm sorry,' I tell her calmly, 'but I was asked to go down to her beach house for a few days.' Lia shoots me a confused look, and I hold up a hand to her. 'I should be back in three. Is that okay?'

'You could've asked me first,' Mom grumbles. 'But okay. You better be back before your birthday!'

'I will! Thanks, Mom,' I exclaim, a grin on my face. She barely has time to squeeze in a goodbye before I've hung up.

'Beach house?' questions Lia. I grimace.

'I can't exactly tell her what really happened last night, can I?' I say, still going with my lie. Lia nods in understanding, and neither of us say anything for a while.

Eventually small conversation breaks out. I find out Lia lives on her own, but she's running low and often has to stay with her parents. She misses her boyfriend, Derek, dearly, but she knows she'll see him soon. I decide to tell her about my own family, including Dad's condition and what Iggy went through. I don't say anything about what's really happening to me, however — she'll think I'm crazy. But I find myself trusting this girl more and more.

We pull up outside a petrol station when the sun is lowering and the day is coming to an end. Lia sighs. 'I'm out. You wanna wait here while I spend a billion on petrol, or ...?'

I grin at her words. 'If it's okay, I think I'm gonna go out and see if there's a place for us to stay for the night. It's three days to Miami with straight driving, but we need sleep sooner or later.' I look around us at the small town. It's not really anything too fancy; the most exciting thing that I spot are flashing neon lights beside one of the buildings, with the one of the letters failing.

'Yeah, that's fine. Don't be too long!' She looks around and stage-whispers, 'I'm scared of the creepers.'

I grin. 'Yeah, yeah.' I wave to Lia as I walk away, down the footpath. The whole town is swathed in mystical golden light, and the clouds above are a mixture of lilacs, pinks and oranges.

A hand takes my own as I stroll through the place, and I start. 'Wha ...?' Once I look down, however, a grin forms on my face as soon as my eyes land on the bouncing blonde curls of Angel.

'I know where a motel is,' she told me cheerfully. 'Come on!'

I laugh as she pulls me along, further away from Lia but closer to a place that promises at least a small amount of comfort.

'Oh, and don't worry, Max,' Angel adds, 'it's a good motel. It isn't filled with yucky things and it's actually pretty good quality!'

'Good,' I sigh.

'We're here!'

'What? Already?'

Angel snorts. 'We've been walking for two minutes. It's right here.' She points to a two-storey building, its walls a creamy white and its garden full of lush green trees.

'It looks ... tropical,' I state.

She grins. 'Isn't it awesome?'

'It is,' I reply, my expression mirroring hers. 'I don't have much money, though. I'll go get Lia, and —'

'No, don't worry about that,' says Angel. 'I've got some here!' She digs through the pockets of her white dress, and her hands eventually fill with notes.

At my astonished look, she says, 'Fang gives it all to me. I have no idea where he gets his money from, but when he doesn't need the rest he gives it to Ella and I.' My heart twinges at his name, but I keep my face impassive.

'I can't take your money, Angel.'

'No, I don't mind. Technically it's his, and you're mad at him, right? So ...' She nudges me with her elbow, and I smirk.

'Okay, okay, but only enough for the room.' Angel hands me the cash and I rifle through it, counting over one hundred dollars.

I walk into the motel, immediately greeted by a kind-looking woman behind a counter. A vent in the ceiling blasts out cool air, and couches sit on the other side of the room.

'Hello, sweetie,' she says, unable to see Angel. She pushes a few strands of grey hair from her face. 'Would you like a room?'

'Yes, please,' I respond, stepping up to the counter. 'A room for two.'

'Separate beds, or ...?' She looks up at me inquisitively. Her name-tag reads Kylie.

'Preferably separate.'

'And how many nights, dear?'

'One, if that's okay.'

She types slowly into a computer, using only two fingers. I tap my foot impatiently against the varnished wooden floor, but refrain from saying anything.

'Okay, then, dear. That's forty-three dollars.' She smiles warmly at me as I hand her the respective amount of money, and gives me a plastic keycard. 'Yours is room fourteen,' she tells me. 'Have a good night!'

'Thanks,' I say, before turning and exiting the building. Angel trails behind me, and I dutifully give her back her money. She takes it with a giggle.

'So, where's Ella?' I ask her, her hand retaking mine.

'I don't know,' Angel shrugs. 'Probably with Fang. Why?'

'Haven't seen her, that's all,' I say. 'And where would "with Fang" be?'

'Most likely off paint-balling. They do that a lot. I've never liked it, so whenever I feel left out they go ice-skating with me.'

I smile softly. 'That's nice of them.'

'Well, yeah. They're nice people. But Ella never stops singing! How did you stand it?'

I laugh and laugh. 'I have no idea.'

The petrol station comes back into my line of vision, and I quickly spot Lia's car, with her leaning against it. Her face brightens when she sees me, and she rushes towards me. Angel disappears with a final squeeze of my hand.

'Did you find somewhere?' she asks in a rush. I nod enthusiastically.

'What's it called?'

'Uh ...' I giggle. 'No idea. It seems pretty good, though.'

'Sweet!'

Lia and I spend the majority of the night up, sitting on our beds and binge eating. We talked and we joked and we laughed, and I find myself temporarily forgetting about my worries.

Who knew that a day at the park would soon result in a road trip from Toronto to Miami? Certainly not me. But then again, what do I know these days?

I know, I know. It's the longest chapter EVER. You're probably all bored to tears. Sorry. According to the word count, 9 280 words, to be exact. i wanted to cut it down to two or even three separate chapters, but I didn't know where to cut it off and, to be honest, I just couldn't be screwed.

I admit, I am ashamed about the Max-Fang-Ash thing. But it will all work out! It's a Fax story after all, not a Mash story (HAHAHA. Max and Ash ... Mash ...).

Also, I'm BETA-ing for a Harry Potter fanficton called Lily's Story, by HedwigandHarry. It's all about Lily Potter (the first) – her life from the day she met Severus to the day she died. It's really good – go check it out! Now, I say! Well, right after you review.

- J