The road was covered in puddles, which glimmered in the morning sunlight. The clouds had drifted off, and the air was just slightly damp. JoJo trudged through the mud, starting to regret running away. Not from home, of course. He had no second thoughts about that. However, he felt bad about running away from Taryn. She was just trying to help him… Then a painful idea hit JoJo. She would tell again. He was almost absolutely certain that Taryn would give him away again. Someone might be looking for him out here by now. Feeling the betrayal welling up in his chest already, he hurried back to town.

When he reached the road that split off to the main roads, he hesitated. Going back to Whotown would mean instant retrieval. On the other hand, he could hide out in the mini forest just beyond the observatory. Choosing the latter option, he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as he walked into it.

He realized it was a mistake as soon as he saw the group of Whos loitering around in a clear space part of the way in. Before he could turn and sneak away, they caught sight of him.

"Look, it's the freak!" called an all-too-familiar voice. The group chuckled meanly, closing in on him. JoJo spun around and tried to flee, but he ran smack into the Who he least wanted to see.

Bruce Whoosley towered over him, exposing a grin that wasn't at all friendly. JoJo's heart froze in his chest. He couldn't move, except for an agonizingly slow back-step as Bruce stepped towards him. His pupils dilated, and he struggled to breathe. Bruce shook his head.

"Where's you poem book, sissy? Still hiding it? Didn't you learn from last time?" This last malicious question from Bruce hurt JoJo the most. It reminded him of what he had just done.

"I'm gonna mess you up as bad as I messed up your little girlfriend. Shame about that. If she'd stayed out of it, I wouldn't have a reason to ruin her pretty face. " The bully sneered. These words cut through JoJo, and he was suddenly filled with more rage than seemed possible for such a small body. Literally shaking with fury, he gave a wild bellow and hurdled himself at his tormentor. Even with all that angry energy, he was no match for the large Who. Bruce shoved him backwards, causing JoJo to sprawl backwards into a row of Bruce's sidekicks. They immediately pinned him down by his arms and legs as he thrashed rabidly, more furious and emotionally injured than he could ever remember. Wrenching the small Who's face out of the dirt, Bruce looked his victim in the eye.

"Scared yet, freak?" he growled. JoJo was still for a moment, glaring up at him. Then, in an act that he didn't regret one bit, he spit in Bruce's face. That was the breaking point for the bigger Who. Glowering, he warned, "You're finished." After that, JoJo couldn't see anything but the ground his face was smashed into.

Ned McDodd had searched everywhere. He had even used Heather's hairpin to pick the lock on the observatory and check in there for his son. (Don't look so surprised. He may be older, but he's got tricks up his sleeves.) Finally, he began to look past the treeline. It was the only place left, and the friend said he liked the back roads. Of course, she claimed she didn't know exactly where he was, so that was the best help she could offer. Unused to the terrain, he tripped over many sticks and twigs, and had almost decided to turn back when he heard voices. Pushing on a bit farther, he saw a circle of teenagers. Which was perfectly fine; there was no law prohibiting teens to congregate in circles. They seemed to be having fun, not causing any trouble. But just as a mayor precaution, he cleared his throat to address the kids. Then he saw one of them take the slightest step back for a second. And he noticed the one teenager on the ground definitely was not having fun.

"JoJo?!" Ned yelled.

JoJo thought he heard his name being called, but he wasn't sure. The only thing he was sure of was the pain. He didn't know if he dared to lift his head to check. Really, he didn't feel like doing anything anymore except lying there. But when the same voice screamed again, and he no longer felt his ribs being kicked, or his spine being viciously stepped on, or his face being pressed farther and farther into the mud until he felt he might suffocate, he glanced up. His vision dimmed, but he could tell it was his father. Great, he thought sarcastically. Spitting blood off his lips, he trembled as he shakily pushed himself up. No, it was useless. He couldn't get up. The earth shook as the bullies ran, and JoJo could hear the mayor yelling at them. Closing his eyes, he started thinking. And once he began, it was impossible to stop.

Pain. It was unbearable. Wasn't there some sort of threshold mechanism in his body that made him pass out if there was an immense amount of pain? Obviously his was broken. All he wanted to do was escape the agony. On that note, wouldn't it be nice to leave all the pain behind? Physical, mental, emotional? He wouldn't feel anything. No injury, no hatred, and best of all, no emotion. This thought overjoyed JoJo. It was just what he wanted. No more feelings. But the only way to stop feeling was to stop altogether. Stop thinking, breathing…living. JoJo managed a small gasp, though his lungs were nearly empty. Did he really think that? Didn't that make him crazy? It was true though. If he wasn't alive, he wouldn't have to bother with things like bullies, and parents and feelings. He heard his dad come back to him, and pick him up. It was a bad move. Pain stabbed through JoJo, and the last thought he had before he gratefully fell unconscious was that he really was a freak now.

Taryn held the deep blue binder tightly. She watched as people filtered past, scrambling to get to their next class. She began to get really worried. Ned had told here that he found JoJo, but he hadn't said much on the matter. Taryn wondered if the small Who was skipping school. He had been acting overly rebellious lately. Sighing, she moved on to class before the late bell rang, tucking the binder into her backpack.

In Whostory, JoJo was still absent. Taryn pulled on her own ponytail nervously, trying to come up with logical reasons. Skipping? Maybe. Sick? Possibly. Run away again? Likely. It upset Taryn that JoJo had become so impossible.

Unable to relax, Taryn decided to visit the McDodd house after school. That way she could find out what was up. With JoJo's binder still nestled in her bag, she knocked on the door of the large house. A young girl with gigantic glasses opened it.

"Can I help you?" she asked in an innocent childlike fashion.

"Is JoJo there?" Taryn asked softly, fearing the answer would be no.

"He's upstairs, but daddy said no one can bug him right now." The girl moved to close the door but Ned caught it and opened it again.

"Hello, Taryn. I'm sorry, but JoJo's…not himself right now." The mayor explained.

Taryn understood, but she still wanted to see him badly. She thought about returning the binder to his father, but remembered that JoJo would hate if his dad were to see it.

"It's really important, Mr. McDodd. Please, I need to talk to him." She pleaded, biting her lip.

The mayor was silent for a moment, then spoke in a resigned voice. "He won't talk back, though. He never talks back. Does he?"

Taryn shook her head sadly. Mr. McDodd inhaled deeply and stepped aside, allowing Taryn to come in. She whispered a thanks and dashed up to JoJo's room.

JoJo lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, but not really seeing anything. His head felt like it was going to split open. He breathed deeply, rhythmically, keeping a slow tempo in his head. It helped him take his mind off his headache, helped him forget about his problems in general. Breathe in…breathe out……in……out……in….

There was a knock at the door. JoJo barely heard it; the noise seemed to be far away, underwater maybe, floating up to him. Or perhaps he was the one trapped in the water. Whoever it was knocked again, more insistently, but JoJo really couldn't care less. This was the attitude he was adopting. No cares, no worries, no feelings. Nothing.

Finally, the door burst open with a bang. JoJo didn't even flinch. He lay motionless except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. He listened as his intruder took in air to yell at him but the intake of breath morphed into a gasp halfway through. There was a thud as something flat hit the ground.

"JoJo! Wha- What happened?!" He knew that voice. All too well. Against his will, his eyes twitched sideways to look at Taryn, who was staring at him in absolute horror. Catching himself, he hastily looked back to the roof. Her face appeared above his, gazing down at him in alarm. His pain was so clearly reflected in her eyes that it added another layer of hurt. Hey now, none of that, he told himself. No emotion, remember?

JoJo avoided her watch, staring past her at the marks and speckles on his ceiling.

"He's gone too far this time, JoJo. You have to tell someone." Taryn eventually spoke.

JoJo shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to hold on. Say nothing. Think nothing. Feel nothing.

"I have your binder." She tried again, picking it up and placing it gently on his stomach. It was resting on a particularly tender bruise, but JoJo didn't want to risk his pride to move it. He had actually been wondering if she'd give it back.

"Please," Taryn whispered, a hint of despair welling in her throat. She pushed a pen into his fist. "Write, I don't care. Just reply. I can't…" she broke off, stepping back from the bed.

In truth, he wanted nothing more than to talk to her. He wished he could tell her everything. Scolding himself, he shook the thought away. Desire was a feeling, and he was trying his hardest to vanquish them.

Taryn waited for a minute, watching JoJo desperately. Any sign of movement, any sign of response. JoJo was stubborn. He focused on his breathing again. In….Out….In….Out.

"JoJo, if you just tell me what's wrong-" She hesitated, not knowing what to say next. Finally she just sighed. "Your spark is gone. What happened to your firefly?" she said simply, leaving the room.