A/N: Whoa… over 5,000 hits… O_O Holy schnapps… The day I double updated my hits were at an all-time high! Woo hoo! This makes me want to jump up and down. Okay… Who am I kidding? I just did after typing that. Thanks for saying that my story is still as good as it was in the beginning! I was worried that I was getting kinda lazy. Maybe I am.

I am glad that some of you are well-educated in music. *coughNeurochemicalcough* This makes me happy.

WARNING: BLOODY VIOLENCE AHEAD. Did you think I was playing? No, I was not. Liz was the biggest gangster in all of Brooklyn. When she gets angry, she gets angry.


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Liz held him up, not even using the slightest of effort fighting gravity to keep him where he was. The only hint that she was actually exerting some type of force was the small bulge in her arm muscle. Liz showed no strain, keeping the snarl on her face and her stance on the freezing sidewalk.

Soul could only hope that they would find his body when she buried it in the woods after she killed him.

"Look, Liz, I don't know what you heard-"Soul tried to plead, but Liz cut him off before he could even finish trying to reason with her.

"I heard that you were up there with Maka when she jumped."

"Well, yes-"

"I heard that she jumped because of you."

This situation was looking bleak.

"Well, maybe, but-"

"Maybe? Like you don't know? Gimme a break, kid!"Her eye twitched, her scowl not letting up in the slightest, only growing darker. She threw him to the pavement, with Soul landing flat on his back, momentarily knocking the air out of him.

"You'd better be glad Patty isn't with me, or you would be stuffed in a trash bag dead by now. You know Patty doesn't play when it comes to her friends."

Soul shuddered, thinking of the other Thompson sister. Smaller in age, but filled with a raging bloodlust and even less forgiving than her elder sibling. She always packed her gun, unlike Liz, who only packed it when going downtown. Patty was a bomb waiting to be set off, a violent bear trap that you did not want to be caught in.

Why in the world did Maka have to be friends with the most feared pair of women ever known in Brooklyn?

Liz kicked him hard in the side, making him gasp out and let out a small groan. It felt like she had just busted one of his kidneys. Pain spread out through his body, overriding any other thought he had prior.

Liz put her foot on Soul's chest, applying so much force that he dimly wondered if it would feel any different if they had put the Statue of Liberty on him. He struggled to get in a breath.

"What pisses me off isn't the fact that you rejected her, it's the fact that she jumped. And you didn't catch her. What if she hadn't been caught?"

"Then I'd definitely be dead by now," Soul managed to choke out. All that it earned him was her foot in his stomach.

"Don't be smart with me, boy! You need to shut your fuckin' mouth! It might give you a chance from ending up being placed where Maka is right now after I'm done with you."

Ah. Soul could do without a visit to the Intensive Care Unit.

"What do you plan to do with me?"

"A bunch of bruises on every inch of your skin, maybe some stitches. If you're lucky, you might not even have any internal bleeding. No promises about broken bones, though." She said, completely serious.

"She can't even remember me! Why does it matter if she doesn't even know who I am anymore?" Soul yelled, frustrated at the situation. If Liz knew that Maka couldn't even recall what had happened, maybe she'd ease up on him. It was a long shot, but he would take anything he could get now.

Liz froze.

Maka… didn't remember Soul? Nothing? Nada?

So… all that time they spent… all those memories, the good, the bad… they were gone? Her mind, wiped clean of any memory of him?

That time that she had fallen in love with him was gone?

He had made her jump off of a building, but because she had loved him that much. You can't just forget a love like that. To die for, as some may say.

If Maka couldn't remember it, how could she ever get over it?

Even if Liz was a hoodlum, she still had feelings, and her heart went out to Maka. Tears welled up in her eyes.

When would Maka's beating ever end?

"This wasn't how it was supposed to happen…" Liz whispered. This wasn't planned.

Soul's expression turned to confusion other than the look of diluted fear on his face beforehand.

Liz kicked him in the head with the force of a small truck, knocking him out and giving him a possible concussion. His once wide eyes rolled back into his head.

She left him there before she thought twice and decided to really hurt him.

Hurting Soul wasn't what Maka would have wanted, she convinced herself.


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A woman was jogging along the sidewalk, determined not to give up her workout plan. She had decided to come out in the nighttime, thinking that nobody would be outside. She liked being outside at night, anyway. It felt natural to her. She had her earphones in, blasting away some heavy bass and beating drums. The woman lost herself in the music, almost tripping when her leg caught on something. She looked down.

She was not expecting to find a bleeding and unconscious man at her feet.

Shocked, she immediately whipped out her cell phone. Her shaking fingers dialed the three digits that she had never dialed before.

"There's a man here on the ground bleeding! I don't know how bad it is… He's not conscious… 53rd and Grim Way… Next to the park… Please hurry!" She talked fast, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible. The operator's voice was composed, trying to calm down the hysterical woman.

The woman sat down next to him, trying to find the wound.

"Oh… "She said, looking at his side. It looked like he had cracked a rib. She was no doctor, but even she could tell that your bones weren't supposed to stick out that way.

The ambulance came and went.

The woman eventually resumed her jogging session.

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Soul and Maka were now in the same hospital.

Soul's injuries consisted of three broken ribs, a huge bruise on his chest, a cluster of contusions on his legs, and a concussion.

Maka's injuries consisted of severe head injuries, three broken vertebrae, and a broken finger.

The only things separating them were two floors.

Somewhere, someplace, Fate itself must've been laughing hysterically.


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~The IV and your hospital bed

This was no accident, this was a therapeutic chain of events~

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A/N: Oh my god. I am so sorry. This update was supposed to be super quick- I wrote most of this in an hour- but I got caught up in my projects. I hate English. I can speak it and that is just about it. I can write essays and papers, but if you ask me what a homophone is, I will look at you with the Excalibur face.

Whoa. That was a rant. Sorry for ranting, guys… And no, it is not stalkerish to look at these and comment on them. I actually like it when you do. This song is called Camisado by Panic! At the Disco. If you have heard it, you will make my LIFE. Everybody only listens to I write Sins not Tragedies. Personally, my favorite is The Only Difference between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage or maybe Lying is the most fun a Girl can have Without taking her Clothes Off. Camisado went best with this story so… yeah. Maybe I'll find a way to make them fit in here…? Probably not…. Man, these chapters are getting short. Bad author! Bad!

School starts on Monday. On your mark…. Get set… DIE.

Nicole, who refuses to accept the fact that she will have to wake up at seven for the next eight months.