Disclaimer: I do not own House of Anubis, the characters in it, and the locations used.

A/N: Here we are, Scarred Update Day! I have a little message for you at the bottom, slightly important and slightly boring, but one I feel you need to read, so watch out for that! Meanwhile, I have a name for all my precious fans: Definitions. 'Cause my username is Definition of a Writer, and so you guys are definitions of readers, so now I'm gonna call you my little definitions. Whaddaya think? Maybe? Maybe? It's either that or brave, trusting souls. ;D

Be prepared for feels, my dearest definitions, and go forth. See ya at the bottom!


Nina POV

"Nina?"

Please. God. No.

Fabian.

"Nina, I'm coming in." The watercolor brush slipped from my hand and hit the pad, sending drops of blue all over the paper. Footsteps echoed through the room, but I didn't look at him. I simply stared down at my brush and hid my face behind my curtain of hair.

Through my shield, I could see his ratty shoes stop right next to me. Then I saw legs, then knees.

He'd knelt beside my bed.

"Nina," he murmured, like it was a word to be cherished. "Will you please look at me?"

I sat completely still, keeping my eyes on the painting.

I didn't see his hand, I only felt my hair being brushed to the side. I jerked away, then pushed the watercolor painting aside so I could put my knees up and push my head into them.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to scare you." He shifted, and I saw his hand drag the painting toward him. He was silent for a moment. "This is beautiful. What's it of?"

I wasn't even aware of what I'd been painting. I'd let my hand do the talking while my mind wandered. I carefully peeked my head out from my knees to look at it.

Colors. Swirls of colors.

I sighed and pulled out my notepad, scribbling the answer down quickly before pushing it across the bed. I still wouldn't look at him.

My dreams.

"You dream about colors? That's… awesome." He chuckled, but it came out a little flat. "I'd tell you what I dreamed about, but you'd never look at me again… not that you've done that more than once in the past 9 days."

Ah. Here it was.

"Is it what happened Friday night, Jerome's comment? He was just joking, Nina, he didn't mean anything by it. I would never-"

I shook my head. He cut off.

"Then what did I do?" I grabbed the notepad again.

You didn't do anything.

"Then why are you suddenly ignoring me? If you'd tell me, then maybe I can try to fix it."

I'm saving myself.

Shoot. I should've just stayed quiet.

"Saving yourself? From what?"

From pain.

Silence.

"Nina… I would never hurt you. In any way. Not on purpose." The notepad was pushed back to me, but I didn't pick it up. "I'm trying to understand here. What could hurt you?" I sighed and picked it up again.

Trust.

"Trust? What does that have to do with anything?"

I started trusting you. Trust brings pain.

"I don't understand." He honestly sounded like he didn't. Could he not know?

Trusting someone means opening yourself up for destruction. Being trusted means being given the power to destroy. I don't want that power and I don't want to give someone that power.

"But that doesn't mean that person will use that power. You have to open yourself up to other people and put your trust in them, or you won't have anyone to depend on."

In every single past time I've put my trust in someone, they have used that power. I don't believe in the concept anymore.

I bit my lip nervously, wondering if that was too much information. He seemed to struggle with words for a minute.

"Who have you been hurt by?"

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to say that I'd put trust in my mom, who died because she'd gone out with her friends, gotten too drunk, and ended up dying in a car crash. That I'd put trust in my real dad, who'd taken off the year before her death without leaving a note. That I'd put my trust in my grandmother, who had died when I was 7. That I'd put my trust in a friend in America, who had called me disgusting and run the other way when she found out what happened at my house.

That I'd put trust in my stepfather, who had given me candy everyday. Who called me his good girl and was all smiles and charm. Who told me he loved me.

My stepfather, who started beating me the day my mother died, and never stopped.

That I'd been hurt by everyone, whether they died or betrayed me.

Instead, I shook my head.

The watercolor painting was set on the floor, and I could see him stand up through my curtain of hair. Then he climbed onto my bed.

I crawled to the other end, trying and failing not to think of all the ways this could go wrong. Was he deciding to hurt me too?

"Nina, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want you to look at me." He shifted toward me, and I pressed my back up against the headboard, turning my head away from him, unable to process his words. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, he had me cornered and-

"Please, Nina. Look at me. Please."

Slowly, I peeked up at him through my hair. He looked so distraught, so upset that I wanted to cry. I moved my head to the left ever so slightly and pushed my hair to the side, looking at him straight on.

His hand moved slowly, making sure it stayed in my sight, and rested on my hand. I started to pull away automatically, but for the first time, he grabbed it and kept it in place.

My heart kicked into a faster speed for more than one reason.

"Let me be the one to prove you wrong," he said quietly. "Let me be the one to restore your faith in the concept of trust." His thumb stroked the outside of my hand, and the feeling was completely alien to me. I didn't know whether to like it or hate it.

I wanted to nod my head.

I wanted to open myself up.

I wanted to be able to touch him without flinching away.

I almost did.

But then.

Joy.

The second her name filtered into my head, I yanked my hand away. This time, he didn't stop me, but he did lean in closer.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

What's wrong was that Joy's warning was repeating through my mind over and over again. I'd make sure that the competition was eliminated from the game. Would she try to get me expelled, sent back to America? Sent back to him?

I couldn't go back there. I wouldn't be able to last. I'd be his bad girl - or worse, I'd be his good girl. I didn't want that. I didn't want to be a good girl or a bad girl. I wanted to be me, no matter how screwed up I was. When I was around him, I couldn't think straight. I would never escape, not this time.

"Nina?" His voice was even more worried than before, and I realized it was probably because I was starting to hyperventilate. "Nina, do you want me to get help?"

I shook my head, and it brought on a sudden bout of dizziness. Black spots swirled through my vision, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

His hand.

On my shoulder.

His hand was on my shoulder.

That was the last piece to the puzzle, the last building block on the tower before it all came tumbling down with a crash.

I blacked out.

X

Fabian POV

I felt her go limp beneath my hand, and I may have said a few choice words I would've gotten expelled for had Victor been in the room.

Her head rolled back against the headboard, her hair falling back so I could see her face. Her eyes were still open, staring at nothing, and the position was all too familiar.

I cursed again.

I didn't understand what had happened. She'd been a little afraid when I'd held onto her hand, but nothing so big that it could have caused this. No, some other thought had crossed her mind, one that had made her shut down. Or start to shut down. Me touching her shoulder - an automatic reaction I'd done without thinking - had been the tip of the iceberg.

"Nina. Nina." Nothing.

I shifted her body so she was laying down in a much more comfortable position, then slid off the bed and sat on the floor. I'd wait it out, apologize, and try to see what'd happened.

Something caught my eye. A painting. A painting in the trash bin by Nina's nightstand.

I pulled it out, stroking the edge of the half finished bird. It was definitely Nina's own creation, I could tell by the style. It was beautiful, and I couldn't understand why it'd been dumped. Curiously, I flipped it over.

Thank you for letting me be me. - Nina

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

This had been for me.

And then something had happened, something that made her dump it. Probably the same thing that had just made her shut down.

I was going to go insane.

The notepad she'd been writing on caught my eye. She was a few pages in - and the curiosity of what could be on the first few sheets was impossible to ignore. I felt a little guilty as I picked it up. This was like breaking into someone's email, someone's diary. But maybe this would give me a clue.

I flipped through the pages, skimming over her conversation with Jerome and Amber, then her messages to me, and-

I just came down here to get a drink. I'm going back up in a second. Sorry for bothering you.

I stopped, and spotted my name immediately.

I don't have a crush on Fabian, I mean no harm.

I dropped the pad back on the bed.

Mean no harm? To who? And why was she talking about whether or not she had a crush on me? Why would someone ever expect she'd have a crush on me? She was afraid of me the most out of-

Nina sat up suddenly, her eyes aware and blinking at me. She seemed to be frozen for a second, then realization colored her expression.

"Nina, I'm sorry for grabbing your shoulder, I didn't think about it. But what made you-" She snatched the pad off the bed and found the pencil she'd used earlier, cutting me off effectively. Then she shoved the page toward me.

Go away.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to show how much her lack of trust affected me. "Nina, please-" She scribbled another few words onto the pad, more agitated in her movements now, and almost threw the notepad at my face.

GO AWAY NOW!

"Okay," I said, standing with my hands raised above my head. "I'm going. I'm sorry for whatever I did." Then I turned around and left, not sure I would ever forget the look on her face. But I wiped these worries from my mind, focusing on my new goal.

I had a job to do, and a girl to find.


A/N: Obviously, mentioned girl is either Joy or Patricia. But! We got Fabina! Before, ya know, she shut down and forced him to leave. Were there any specific lines that made you squeal?

Now, message time.

Several of you have asked if I can update faster. The answer is, though I'm sorry to say it: no. I'm writing as fast as I can, but my life is busy right now. My parents are divorcing, we just moved, I'm preparing for my return to public school next year, and a lot of other crap. I simply cannot update faster. I really an sorry, I wish I could, and the fact that you care so much about the story is really inspiring. I'm sorry!

Second order of business: some of you have asked for Fabina to happen faster/the secret of Nina's abuse to be revealed quicker/etc. Once again, I can't. This story needs to have conflict, and if Fabina happened any quicker than it already is, it wouldn't be realistic. Nina has been abused her whole life, she can't jump into his arms right away. Plus, I already have at least five of the future chapters written, and I can promise you that big stuff is happening soon. Big. Stuff.

Okay, all done. Sorry for the seriousness!

The next chapter update will be on March 8th. Friday of next week. I know, a whole week, but I'm having plot problems with Scarred that I need to have time to fix. We should be able to get back to five day updates soon!

Reviews are love, dear readers. It helps that you get a preview of the next chapter for reviewing. And the person who reviews first gets two. Tempting enough?

See ya Friday, my little definitions!