(Hurray! Random P.O.V changes that give the reader a better idea of what's going on inside the main character's head! :D In case you couldn't figure it out, this chapter is in Jeremie's point of view.)

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. I don't know what to feel.

I get down on the floor and sweep together all of the papers that fell out of my bag. The floor is cold; it hurts my knees to kneel down on it. I can't even talk. I can't look at him. He keeps trying to tell me he's sorry, that he doesn't know what got into him. Yeah, right. I want to punch him. I'm so angry at him. He approaches me, and I immediately back away.

"Get out of my face," I say to him. He starts babbling again. I wish he would shut up. Shut up, Odd. Shut the hell up. He just keeps going and going. "I don't want to hear it," I scream.

"Jeremie, I'm really sorry. Please. It was just one little kiss, I'm sorry! I don't know what I was thinking."

Just one little kiss. Right. I turn away from him, so angry that I start to cry. The salty tears running down my cheeks bring warmth to my body against the frigid air of this hospital room. Odd puts his shoulder on me, still babbling.

THWACK.

Oh my God, did I just do that? Shit, his nose is bleeding. He runs out of the room before I even say anything. My knuckles are throbbing. I stand there, staring at my clenched fist. I wasn't even in my own frame of mind for a split second. It's like something else possessed me and took over. XANA? No, just anger. There are two, tiny drops of blood on the floor. They stick out like a sore thumb compared to the snow-white linoleum. Shit. Why did I do that?

More importantly, why did Odd do that? I thought he was my best friend. Best friends don't go and kiss the girls that they know you love. God, I love her. I wish I had gotten the chance to tell her more while she was still here on Earth.

I love you, Aelita. I love you, I love you, I love you. It doesn't matter how many times I say it, I know you can't hear me.

I can't sleep, I can't breathe, and I can't eat. Every thought that ever crosses my mind is about her. My face hurts. My face literally hurts from the angst that has been tattooed upon it. My heart skips a beat every time I look at her, but at the same time I'm stricken with such an intense sting of pain that I'm forced to look away. She is a true sleeping beauty, lying in that bed all tucked in her warm blankets with her beloved doll by her side.

I feel so alone and cold when I'm awake, because I'm forced to face the reality that Aelita is still in a coma and I have no idea how to bring her back.

But when I'm asleep, I feel happy, because Aelita is there with me. I'd rather be in a nightmare knowing that Aelita is right next to me, than in real life knowing she's unconscious in some creepy old hospital room.

In a way, though, she's with me every waking moment. I see her everywhere. I'm even hearing her voice now. I'm hallucinating and constantly having night terrors. I can't tell what is and isn't real anymore. I can barely function. If I can barely function, how am I supposed to bring her back?

I love you, Aelita.

I love you.

"I LOVE YOU, DAMMIT. YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP!" Oh, did I say that out loud? A nurse stares at me through the window as she walks by. I'm on my knees by Aelita's bedside, sobbing into her sheets. I can't stop. I can't stop crying. I'm thirteen years old, but I'm sitting here balling my eyes out like I'm five. Boy, am I pathetic. I know if Aelita was here though, she'd understand. Then again, if Aelita was here, I wouldn't be crying in the first place. I've reached my breaking point. I've shattered. I am broken.

A million tiny pieces of Jeremie are scattered across the floor. I kick them around. That's all I am, a bunch of dirt to be stomped on.

"Jeremie."

Oh, lovely. The voices are back. I lift my head from the comfort of Aelita's bedspread, looking around the room.

"Jeremie…"

I look over at her to make sure it's not her lifeless body that's speaking to me. Nope, no talking zombies here. Just me turning into a schizophrenic. I answer her, only because this is the only method of communication I can get with her.

"Listen to the tape, Jeremie."

The tape? The tape is trashed. I screwed it up when I hacked into that website and pirated an audio program. I tell her that, but it doesn't seem to faze her.

"Jeremie, listen to the tape."

Are you deaf? I just told you it was ruined. She once again tells me to listen to the tape, and her voice fades out into the emptiness of the room. I roll my eyes, but part of me forces me to actually walk over and open my laptop. I'm not really sure what I'm expecting to happen, but I open up my lap buddy and bring up the file. I sigh, and press play.

Oh, wow.

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

Oh my God.