READ::: Okay, 2 questions. And please answer them! Thanks!

A) What is the difference between a HIT and a VISITOR?

B) Is Avan Jogia going to play Fang in the movie?

Oh, and for those of you who DIDN'T get what He's a genius. With snares. Meant, I'll tell you. It means Gale Hawthorne, from the Hunger Games. I saw the picture on Google, and was all like "Hoi, that's cool!" Swear, that's the exact sound I made. HOI!

KICK IT IN THE STICKS by SOONERMAGIC

Fang's loud exclamation echoed throughout the whole clearing, as if it was reverberating off the trees and bouncing back into our ears. He was mad – wait, that's an understatement if I ever knew one. He was extremely pissed smooth off, so mad that it surprised me steam wasn't blowing from his ears.

That thought made me laugh, and I fell off the tailgate in hysterics, dropping the moonshine jar to shatter on the ground and clutching the side that came in contact with a half-buried rock. I knew it was a bad idea to laugh in a situation like this, but I couldn't help it. I was the kind of person that laughed at life and didn't take things way too seriously.

The truck, I noticed out of the corner of my slitted eye, looked like a pancake, smashed in between the ground and tower, with the water substituting as syrup and the pieces of wood little chocolate chips.

Thinking that, I laughed even harder, my loud guffaws echoing in the silent patch of trees that we were hidden in. I knew I should stop – I knew it would be the smartest thing to stop laughing – but I couldn't. It's like when someone tells you not to do something, you do it anyway. You can't help yourself; it's the rush of breaking the rules that lures you in and gets you high on adrenaline. That's what was wrong with me.

I knew that Fang was glaring at me, picking himself up off the ground where the water had washed him, and he was silently murdering me with the daggers he was sending at me. He wasn't just mad that his truck had just been squashed, totaled, underneath an old water tower; he was mad at me because it had been my idea. Although, the only reason it popped into my head was because of the moonshine he'd given me. So, technically, it was his fault.

But it wasn't like I was going to try to explain that to him unless I wanted to have an early funeral.

I rolled back over, my uncontrollable laughter letting up slightly, and saw the other guys as they struggled up to their feet, their clothes and hair dripping with water. Ratchet was pulling Ari up, who kept slipping in the fresh mud; Holden and Iggy were leaning on each other for balance; the Gasman used a tree to help stand himself up; and Fang was already on his feet firmly, his face beet red from vexation. Part of which was directed at yours truly.

The girls – all of them, not just a few – jumped off the truck, each narrowly missing my squirming body, and raced toward their men, each enfolding someone into a tight embrace. Angel wrapped the Gasman in a steel hug since they were siblings. Nudge went straight up to Ari and slanted her lips against his in a kiss that was out of relief more than anything. Kate hopped into Holden's outstretched arms, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck in a death grip. Star launched herself in Ratchet's arms, and Maya had to pick between a staggering Iggy or a seething Fang.

The choice was obvious; she picked Iggy.

And the only person left was Fang. He was the one, in my clouded opinion, that deserved to be hugged the most, because he was the one in the freaking truck when the tower started to fall. I was so glad he got out in time, even if it took the tower forever to fall to the ground. Fang was the one that deserved to be cuddled and loved, not the others.

Looking at Fang attentively, I noticed that he looked like an avenging angel right at that moment, his dark clothes glistening with water and his hair blowing limply in the wind, with his mud-caked boots and devilishly handsome face. Well, a country boy avenging angel, but you get the gist.

As I picked myself up off the ground, I was halfway tempted to run into Fang's arms and splatter kisses all over his clean face. Our previous kisses replayed in my head, and I knew that he wouldn't mind at all. But there was still the little fact that it'd been my idea to pull down the tower. Plus, the death-defying glare he was pointing at me with was enough to make Chuck Norris shake in his skin.

So I was smart, simply standing up and dusting the dirt and grass off my clothing, trying to recapture the remaining dignity I had left, which wasn't much at all. I started to hiccup from my sudden laughing – which really got on my nerves – and I watched, stunned and partly scared, as Fang advanced on me with the menacing intent of a lion after a zebra.

Freaky.

The whole time Fang was approaching, I kept my eyes locked over his shoulder, watching everyone else as the girls gushed at how close the guys had just came to getting smashed flat like a piece of paper. The girls were all either raving about how awesome that had been or how happy they were that their boy didn't get harmed. I felt a sharp pang of longing, and suddenly wished Dylan were here so I could be hugging him instead of having Fang walking intimidatingly toward me.

Fang stopped in front of me, barely a foot away, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was pissed beyond explanation. "What the hell was that, Max?" he asked me furiously, though it sounded more like an exclamation since his voice was loud and demanding.

I shrugged my shoulders, my eyes boldly meeting his because I wouldn't let him scare me like he was attempting to. "Hey, you could've said no," I responded, crossing my arms across my chest in the international What The Hell Do You Want? posture. I was correctly convinced that I was doing a pretty damn good job. "But you didn't."

His dark brown eyes, shadowed by the hat, went impossibly darker with anger and something else I couldn't exactly identify, but it sent racking chills down my spine that was a hassle to ignore. "You didn't way anything either."

Fang's retort made me realize that I hadn't said anything, and I'd known that the length of chain wasn't enough. I should've told him that, but I couldn't, wasn't sure if I wanted to. I was inexplicably ticked about all the girls he'd gotten with before me and the ever—enraging fact that I was probably just a one night stand. Plus, the inexpressibly good moonshine that he'd given me didn't help my mind none.

"What was I supposed to say?" I exploded, throwing my hands up so I wouldn't sock him right in the face with anger. I'd never been this mad at Fang, even when he'd about killed us twice – count it, two times! – and I didn't know how to react to the infuriated emotions running rampant through my torso. But then, I hadn't known him for more than four hours, either. "There was no point in me saying anything. It wasn't like you'd have listened to anything I said anyway."

My statement took Fang by surprise at first, but then his anger returned, and I could see the pure malice swimming through his dangerously dark eyes. "I mighta, Max. You don't know."

And that was it. Our fight was over. He pushed me aside – and not roughly, because Fang was still the perfect country boy – and walked around to the driver side door of Ratchet's truck. Which was exactly like Fang's had been, except it was white and not black.

I abruptly felt sorry for what I'd done, because Fang had a lot on his shoulders, and probably couldn't afford to buy another truck thanks to the work that the farm acquired. And I felt terrible, like I'd just ripped a kid's lollipop from his chubby hands and ate it right in front of him. Then I felt the sudden urge to apologize to Fang. Which, let me guarantee you, I never do.

Mentally groaning, I called out, "Fang, I'm sorry." The apology, as it came up my throat, tasted faintly like bile and it was a struggle to force the words from my lips. I hated apologizing – have ever since I was little and had to apologize to Ella for breaking her doll – and avoided it whenever possible. But I couldn't avoid this.

After giving Ari and pleading glance – one asking him telepathically to get me out of here – I spun reluctantly on my heel and marched toward Fang as he was leaning into Ratchet's truck and fiddling around with the console. I could see papers flying and gloves being flung out everywhere, and I wondered what he was looking for that was so important.

Carefully, I tapped his shoulder, half suspecting him to blow up. But he didn't, instead, he was calm and stoic as he turned around and faced me, though you could see it was taking tons of self-control to not explode.

"Max, you're pissin' me off," he replied, his tone taking on an icy tranquilness that scared me even more than him screaming. I mean, scream or yell, do something to get it out. But he was so mad that he couldn't even talk properly. Mad at me. "Now shut the hell up and go start gettin' some stuff outta my truck 'fore I lose it."

I couldn't help what came out of my mouth; it was just instinctual from all the years of being a rebel without a cause and fighting back. It was what came natural to me, but it wasn't the right thing to say at this moment, standing here with this boy.

"Bite me," I said in response, using a term I knew was old but it was what popped up first, probably from using it all those years when I was in grade school. "You're not my freaking boss. You can't order me around like you do everyone else. I'm not them. I don't know who you are yet, and I won't let you push me around just because I don't know what the heck to do."

Fang became angrier and angrier with each word I said, and by the time I was finished I could see the seething vexation that was distorting his gorgeous face. I knew what I'd said was wrong, but I couldn't let him see that I felt remorse about what I'd said to him. Because I didn't. Well, I didn't think I did, at least.

Fang opened his mouth to speak, to tear my head off with words, but then he saw something over my shoulder, and he stopped. His eyes took on a faraway look, widening slightly, and he went back to work digging through the console. Curious, I spun on my heel to see what had made him stop.

Ratchet and the others were openly gaping at us, surprised by our sudden anger toward each other when we'd just been all over each other thirty minutes before. I knew they wanted to leave and let us be, allow us to settle our dispute by ourselves, and I also knew that them leaving would be for the best.

"Fang?" Ratchet called, although it sounded more like a question since his voice was a little clouded with confusion and anxiety. Fang pulled back from the truck and look at him, and Ratchet's eyes widened slightly, as if he were actually afraid of his younger brother. Pansy. "We're gonna, uh, head out and let you get your things, okay?"

Fang nodded in response, reaching up and readjusting his hat. "Go ahead, man," he said, and his voice wasn't nearly as icy as it had been when we'd been talking to me. He sounded more careless and easy, even a little relieved, but that old anger still lurked in the darkly shadowed plains of his gorgeous face.

Despairingly, I looked at Ari and tried to catch his eye, begging him to stay with me so I wouldn't be all alone with Fang. He looked down, averting his gaze from mine, and I knew that he had no intention of staying. Jerk. I wished Ella were here again, because she wouldn't leave. Well, she might. It depended on how drunk she was.

Ratchet dug in his back pocket, struggling for a moment before producing a set of shining silver keys and tossing them to Fang. "Here's the keys to the Challenger," he said, and Fang caught the keys with the ease of a person who has been catching things all his life. Yeah, catching girls. For some reason, my sarcastic thought ticked me off.

And Fang let them go. Didn't even tell them where to meet us at, didn't even ask for help, didn't even say goodbye. He just watched as they all loaded up in Ratchet's truck, some having to get in the back since there were so many people. But they waved good-naturedly at us as they drove out of the large clearing Fang and I were standing alone in, and I guess that made up for their odd behavior a little bit.

I looked at him expectantly, and he gave me a blank look in return. I could see the water droplets falling off the brim of his hat, the way his shirt and jeans sticked to him like glue. He was soaking wet, and I couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"What?" Fang asked irritatedly, annoyed at my laughing again. I couldn't help it; it was either scream or laugh. Laughing's better.

I shrugged, not wanting to get into a screaming fight with him. "Nothing," I said, turning around and making my way to his smashed truck. Smashed like a pancake... I giggled lightly.

The truck still had water running steadily out of it, escaping from cracks and holes in the exterior. The driver side door was open, so – instead of wrestling to open any other door – I just walked around the truck and stuck my head in on Fang's side. I had to duck and bend down to keep my head from hitting the door frame.

The steering wheel was bent in half, looking like a crescent moon. The seats were fine, but did have several rips and tatters, and even some fluffy, off-white fleece-like stuff hanging out. Over the front seats, I could see broken glass and pieces of wood loitering every inch of the back.

I winced slightly, knowing that this has got to be hard on Fang. I mean, seriously? Totaling out a truck because you were being a dumbass and trying to pull over an old water tower? He'd have fun trying to explain that to the insurance company.

I giggled lightly, arching my body so I could see in the back floor, hoping maybe there was something valuable there. I saw the golden tops of several Mason Jars, screwed on tightly and protecting a clear liquid, and I remembered the moonshine. If I'm gonna save something, might as well save something that could benefit me too.

I had to crawl in the truck so I could lean over and grab the shine, water soaking into my borrowed jeans and making my legs damp, and I had to be careful to avoid all the broken glass and razor-edged wood. I really didn't feel like slicing my knee open and having to go to the hospital with my meat hanging out. Yuck.

My hands found their way into the provided holes which were on the side, and I hefted the wooden crate up, being extra careful not to drop it. I didn't want to show Fang that I couldn't accomplish a simple task.

I scooted myself out, planting my feet firmly on the ground so I wouldn't trip in the mud. I spun around, holding the crate away from me so I wouldn't get, like, a splinter or something, and saw Fang watching me, eyeing the shine. He had his eyebrow quirked up, lounging against the Challenger and twirling the keys in his fingers.

But then, everything went to heck. Why? Because, it turns out, wooden crates aren't as sturdy as they seemed.

The bottom of the crate fell through, releasing all the moonshine bottles to splatter on the ground, soaking my boots with the clear liquid. Glass exploded everywhere, shards flying as far as ten feet away.

Pissed the heck off, I simply relinquished the crate from my grip, watching thoughtlessly as the wood splintered and flew off in every which direction. Oh well, it wasn't my problem any more. But then I felt a pang of remorse. That crap was freaking amazing! Why had I let it all fall? 'Cause I'm a dumbass, that's why.

Visibly fuming, I raised my eyes up to Fang, wanting to see his face and find out what he thought about this little incident. I didn't exactly mean to cause all the jars to break; it just friggin' happened. My karma was really beginning to get the best of me.

Fang just smirked halfheartedly, throwing the keys up and catching them. "You're gonna have to explain to my old man why all those bottles are broke," he said to me, opening the door as I approached, kicking glass and debris from my boots.

I gave him a sour look, like I'd just taken a bite out of a lemon. "Sure, fine by me," I replied, letting the sarcasm drip from my tongue and splash onto the ground in a paddle. "As long as you explain to him why the hell your trucks squashed like a pancake."

Fang looked at me, a glint lighting his ominous eyes as he motioned for me to get in the Challenger. "I need a drink bad."

PAGE BREAK! 'A FULL MOON SHINING BRIGHT, EDGE OF THE WATER WE WERE FEELING ALRIGHT' DOES ANYONE KNOW THAT SONG BESIDES ME?

Turns out, there's actually a quaint little bar in Monroe, right next to a rock yard – which was this huge yard full of rocks that people picked up and palletized for a few extra dollars. Yeah, I know. That crap – picking up rocks – sounded as if they were being tortured. But hey, some people gotta work, right?

The bar was called the Cannery, and it had a large faded yellow cannery painted onto the side of the building. It wasn't very big – smaller than the Longbranch – but I could see that it had a room that jutted out of the back. Instead of being painted, it was just simple wood, cut into logs like cabins, and the roof was made of metal tin, painted a deep forest green from what it looked like.

Hmm, I actually liked this little bar better than the Longbranch.

We got out of the Challenger, our boots squishing in the damp mud as our booted foot pounded against the ground. There were several other vehicles, ranging from Ford Mustangs to Toyota Tundras (by the way, them are some ugly-ass trucks. Look 'em up on Google if you don't believe me).

I stood straight and tall, shutting my door with a slam. The wind had picked up a little, and now it was blowing wavy tresses of hair in and around my face. Agitatedly, I swiped the hairs away and huffed an exasperated breath. I really needed a drink, too, even though I was already buzzed thanks to the moonshine. Gotta love it, right?

I turned around, resting my elbows on the hood of Fang's car, and watched as he dug around in the backseat for something. From the glow of the bar, I could see that he was aiming for a black T-shirt similar to the one he had on. It was buried under several pairs of gloves and even a ripped pair of jeans.

Fang finally grabbed the shirt, leaned back up, and shut the door, flashing me a toothy grin that was highlighted by the moon and neon lights coming from the bar. I just rolled my eyes and followed him to the door, descending the stairs behind him. And then he opened the door.

The Cannery wasn't as crowded as the Longbranch, but that didn't mean it wasn't freakin' packed. At least I could actually walk in this place without bumping into people every five seconds. I liked being an optimist.

On the inside, the bar looked just like a log cabin: there was a large, long, wooden bar that was in the center and wrapped all the way around in a wind, arcing circle. Barstools were lining the sides of the bar, most occupied by a drunk dude hitting on this totally conceited chick or a lonely man looking for someone to spend the night with.

Everything was bathed in this luminescent red glow, and I looked up at the rafters where I saw that the lights had a crimson tint to the bulbs. Hmm, I liked that. You could see perfectly, but everything had this crazily, eerie reddish-shadow. It was pretty badass.

Fang grabbed my hand just as I started toward the bar, pulling me to the side and moving me toward this corridor at the back of the bar. I looked up at him in question, wondering what the heck he was doing. He smirked at my look.

"I gotta change," he whispered into my ear, having to almost scream because the music was so loud. It sounded like a Brantley Gilbert song, like 'Country Must Be Country Wide' or something like that. This new dude seemed to be popping up everywhere lately. "You don't want all these people starin' at me when I change my shirt, do you?"

I looked up at him, annoyed, and I saw the smirk on his full lips, only growing wider as we walked toward the hallway. His eyes – those dark, beautiful, engaging eyes – were reflecting the red light, bouncing the rays back into mine. Mysteriously sexy, but it heightened my need for him nevertheless.

I didn't bother answering him – that it would bother me. I supposed that it was good just to make him doubt my growing feelings for him a little. That's what any smitten girl would do, is what my granny would say.

The corridor leading to the bathroom wasn't nearly as long as the one at the Longbranch, and I found myself taking in every detail as Fang led me down the hallway. The walls had a wood-like wallpaper, and there was a dark brown trim at the bottom so it wouldn't clash with the multi-colored brown wall. At the end, there was what looked like a doorway to another room, and from where I was walking at an angle, I could see a plush red couch in the corner and the bathroom door at the far right corner.

I had to force my eyes to adjust to the different lighting in the room as we entered, and Fang pulled me on through and into the bathroom. He kicked open the door since it was cracked, and I almost fell down from what I saw, my cheeks burning bright red and my body chilling.

On the floor laid a couple who barely had any clothes on and were kissing madly. The girl – who had long, waving blonde hair and tanned skin – had her shirt completely off and her jeans pulled down around her ankles. The dude, whose hair was light brown and skin fairly light, had his shirt and pants off. They looked up at us horrifiedly, as if they'd just been caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. Which, in a sense, they had been.

Fang whistled, seemingly unfazed by the scene before us, and pointed over his left shoulder. "Yo, out. Go do that somewhere else," he ordered, and the two jumped up as if someone had fired a starting gun and launched themselves out of the door, pushing passed me as they scrambled to get their clothes.

I watched, amused, as they ran down the hall, making out and attempting to yank their clothes on. Yeah, pretty funny crap.

"Don't forget to use protection!" Fang hollered after them.

Shrugging off my mental insanity, I looked back up at Fang, taking in his laughing smile and twinkling dark eyes. I had to keep myself from drooling in front of him, which really wouldn't have helped my chances with him.

"You have quite an impression on people, you know?" I mused as he pulled me the rest of the way in the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. He just looked blankly down at me from where he was standing next to the sink, and shrugged.

"I try," was his only response.

I sighed, turning my back to him and facing the toilet so I wouldn't be tortured with watching him change and knowing that I couldn't touch him. At least, not the way I wanted. Those irresistible, rippling muscles hidden beneath those tight shirts he wore was enough to make me go psychotic just thinking about them. I shivered at the thought of watching him get out of the water at Cowskin,

By the time I was finished reminiscing, Fang had completed his task of changing, and now had his large, lean hand on my shoulder, pulling me back around so I could face him. The sopping wet shirt, I noticed, was thrown in the sink carelessly, probably staying there till someone cared enough to come in and take it out.

"You know, you've gotta pretty face," Fang announced abruptly, and I looked up at him, disbelief rattling my features. He just smiled at my incredulous expression. "Don't let anyone tell you different, 'cause they're either dumbasses or just jealous. Dylan's lucky to have a girl like you."

The words that left my mouth next escaped before I had a chance to give any thought at all to them. But hey, that's life.

"I'm your girl right now," was my retort, and I knew it shocked Fang just as much as me.

Fang's lips smashed hungrily against mine, forlornly wanting to get as close as possible as he reached around and hugged me to his chest. I was caught by surprise, tensing slightly, but I immediately softened and melted against him, raising my hands and entangling them in his silky hair, knocking his tattered hat to the floor.

He spun me around swiftly, leaning back against the wall for a millisecond before pushing off and backing me toward the sink. He grinned seductively against my lips, making me dizzy with heat and wanting, and picked me up, setting me on the elevated counter so we had better access to each other's lips.

His tongue slipped through my parted lips, sliding against my own and ravishing my mouth with such delicacy and gentleness that my legs opened wide and he stepped into the cradle of my hips. Moaning in undeniable pleasure, I wrapped my arms around his neck and legs around his waist, pulling him ridiculously closer.

Fang disentangled our moistly connected lips, instantly bending down and finding my neck. He suckled considerately and bit gently, nipping at my neck and allowing his tongue to escape and lick a fiery trail from the base of my throat to the tip of my ear.

I trembled uncontrollably, racking shivers assaulting my body, and I dug my nails in Fang's shoulder as he continued the amazing practices on my neck.

The feeling washing over me was unlike any other. I couldn't exactly explain it; it was so advanced and alien that it's hard to put in words. A blazing, roaring fire was being created in the pit of my abdomen, generating from the smoldering embers that had been left behind from Old Man Reed's place. It felt nice – amazing, actually – to be reacquainted with that flame.

"Lift up," he whispered huskily in my ear, his hands creeping down the backside of my legs and coming to rest just on the tip of my waist. I elevated myself slightly, permitting Fang enough room to slink his hands under and cup my butt, hefting me from the sink and carrying me out the door.

I was startled at first, squeezing Fang tighter than I should have and wrapping my legs more securely around him, but the butterfly-soft kisses he was trailing from my ear to the base of my throat helped me calm down somewhat. Before too long, Fang was laying me down on the upholstered couch, positioning me to where I was leaning up slightly and looking directly into his eyes.

I could see the wanting and desperate passion swimming in his eyes, but I also saw the hint of pride and dignity and courtesy resting in the shadowed places. He didn't want to force me to do something that I wasn't willing to do, like taking our new relationship to the next step. But, the thing was, I was willing. More than he'll ever know.

"Yes," I croaked hoarsely, opening my arms to him as he came down on me with such tender moves, barely letting his body graze against mine. The tugging it was making in my stomach escalated till it was somewhat painful, and I tugged at his shirt to make him understand that I didn't want him to be gentle. I didn't want him to hold back.

I wanted all of him, everything he had to offer at this very moment. His heart, his soul (his car, but that was probably too much to ask for, right?) – everything.

Fang laid his lips against mine softly, as if testing the coldness of a chilled pond, and then, after finding it was perfectly warm, rammed into me with such force that I was pushed up on the couch into a half-assed sitting stance.

Just then, an image of those two people in the bathroom flashed across my mind. We were just like them – but they had the decency to actually take it behind closed doors, whereas whoever needed to take a leak would see us. I should've been embarrassed, but I Fang was clouding my mind to much for me to really give a shit about anything.

My body was still on fire from where he'd kissed me, and I didn't want to be outdone by Fang in the art of pleasing your partner, and so I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth, squishing it between my teeth and tasting with my damp tongue. Fang, by his actions and reactions, apparently loved what I was doing, because he thrusted his body demandingly against mine and he moaned softly, the voice sounding totally uncanny and foreign coming from him.

I giggled softly, releasing his lips and pulled back, bashfully glancing up at him. He was gazing down at me, his eyes heavy-lidded from the passion and pleasure, and a sloppy, lightheaded smirk crossed his dubious lips, making me yearn for them even more.

His hands, which had been resting above my head on the back of the couch, floated down, grazing the side of my face and trailing down my throat, making me angle my head so he could have better access. Then his fingertips found where my shirt dipped down a little, revealing my collarbone, and he twirled his fingers lightly across my bare skin, making a moan escape my lips.

He grinned down at me. "You like that, don't you?" he asked me quietly, bending down and connecting our lips again in a kind kiss. He swept his fingers right down my torso, right in between my breasts, and I arched against him at the sudden, insistent satisfaction washing through my body.

God, I loved this. I wanted to do this all the damn time.

"Yes," I uttered again, sighing when his hand slipped underneath my shirt at the hem, his fingers tinkling upward and making me shiver slightly. But, just as his fingers were tracing the underside of my bra, making me delirious with wanting and lust, it was all over.

My one intense, passionate moment with Fang was broken up because of a shrill, frightened and pissed off voice evaded my hearing. And I knew that voice, and I had to get to it before anyone else did.

"Get off me, you scumbag! This shirt is freakin' designer!"

I knew that voice...

Abruptly, I pushed against Fang, sending him flying off and sprawling out on the floor, his breathing ragged and deep, and I jumped up, hopping over him and racing down the hall. Something was grabbing at my heart and forcing me to run down the hall. That voice, loud and screeching, with a slight slang to it was almost as familiar to me as my own.

It sounded like – like Ella. What the hell was she doing here?

Although, I couldn't be sure if it was actually her or not till I rounded the corner and was granted complete view of the bar. Surely there were other girls around here with the same, if not similar, voice as my younger sister. But, just to be on the safe side, I should check it out.

I emerged from the hallway, jogging to where everyone was crowding around by the door. Several people – that completely drunk and dumb ones – were yelling some very perverted and obscene things that I really don't feel like repeating, but they pissed me off nonetheless.

Pushing through the crowd and forcing the people out of my way, I came to a tiny clearing in the wave of people and looked down. My sister – only a year younger than me at seventeen – was sitting on the floor with her long black hair frizzed out and sporting a scared look on her face. I could see a trail of tears making their way down her cheek, right where a bright red mark was glowing on her pale cheek.

Wait, did someone freaking hit her? Anger washed over my mind and limbs, making me see red. I swear to God and on my mother's grave, if she was even friggin' touched or looked at the wrong way, I was going to kill whoever done it to her. I would dig the own grave myself, throw his sorry, pathetic ass in –

"Max?" Ella asked through her tears, looking up at me. She took in my rumpled shirt and messed up hair, my pouting and swollen lips and the hickeys I was displaying openly on my neck, and gave me a quizzical. "Max, is that you?"

Before I had time to answer, a dude with chestnut hair and hazel eyes pushed through the crowd and grabbed Ella, yanking her up forcefully. I knew this dude. Sam Waylons.

"This your sister, pretty girl?" he asked me sourly, gripping Ella's forearm way too tight for my liking. Anger soared through me, and I was prepared to take him out by myself, but I didn't have to. Because I had Fang with me.

"Let her go."

DUN DUN DUN! LOL

Did you like it? I liked it! ;}

Okay, so it took me a while to update... sorry but I had to haul hay all freaking day Sunday and the baler wouldn't quit breaking so it took us like 5 hours to fix that thing... But hey, at least you got it right? And it's LONG – ish. Not nearly as much as that other chapter – I forgot which one but you know what I'm talking about. Oh, and if you're offended by the fact that Ella got slapped – well... don't even review then. I thought it was a good idea.

Oh, and I wrote this short story for the HUNGER GAMES in Prim's POV after she dies, and my teacher (the one who FORCED me to read the books, though I love them) and I are thinking about sending it into Suzanne Collins or something... Isn't that great?

Anywho, review if you liked it... Don't if you didn't. :)

~ SoonerMagic

lmL