HELLO LOVES! I've been working on this chapter all day. Nothing ever seemed to turn out right, and I'm still not sure about the end. So, like, yeah, um . . . (is still sugar high) why, yes I am! I blame chocolate/PB pretzels. those things DEFINE 'Num Yummy'.

Anyone else find it hard to wake up? Sleep is such a wonderful place, and no one really wants to leave it. And waking up, you always hurry, trying to get everything done before you have to get where you're going. Uhg, life's better if we had more time to sleep.

I was no exception. Every time I was somewhere near the waking world, I pushed it aside and went back to sleep. Life was better where I was. I wasn't hungry - I was tired. And sleep seemed like the best thing at the moment.

And I didn't want to hear the voices. They intruded my sleep, trying to wake me up, but I always managed to push them back, stay in my little world. But they get in.

" . . .she'll wake up?

"Cuts . . . . knife wound . . . blood loss . . ."

" . . .coma . . ."

"Stay alive . . . "

"Hundreds of stitches . . . everywhere . . . "

Damn voices.

But there comes a time when we must all wake up, leave the little world of sleep behind, and find some Dr. Pepper. I opened my eyes, and found myself staring at a wall. A white wall, to be exact - nothing like the grey metal I know is my room.

I shifted my legs around. Nope, this wasn't my bed - the sheets weren't as warm or scratchy as my Chevrolet blanket*.

I lifted an arm, slowly, and saw nothing but gauze. Some of it was stained red, but most of it was clean. Using said limb, I pulled myself up into a sitting position.

I hissed in pain - it felt like my skin had shrunk three sizes. I wanted to tear it off so I could move again. I whipped the blanket back, and I saw that I had been stuck in one of the ridiculous hospital gowns again. But this time, I was in the clear - my entire body was covered in gauze.

It was hard to get out of bed, especially with my 'skin-feels-too-tight' thing going down, but I managed it. Now I just had to get to my room. I opened the door that led to the hall.

Holy hookers, Batman** - the place is empty!, I thought to myself. The halls were as empty as a s school on a snow day. Making it relatively easy to make a clean getaway to my room.

All in all, it took me twenty minutes to get to my room. I said I made a CLEAN getaway, not a FAST one. You trying going fast when covered in gauze!

In my room, I make my way to the bathroom to shed the gown and gauze - there's a chance someone could come looking for me, and I don't want them to run into my room when I'm in the middle of getting dressed.

Um, yeah, after unwrapping the gauze, I could see why I'm in so much pain. I was covered in stitches. Hundreds of 'em. I looked like Frankenstein's monster. My body, my arms, my neck, my back - whoa boy, they're gonna itch like a bitch when they heal.

I walked out of the bathroom and donned a pair of my baggiest pants and my baggiest shirt. I left my room again, careful of anyone who was awake. I didn't know what time it was - my internal clock was WAY off - but I had the feeling that I'd get int trouble for being out here, no matter WHAT time it was.

But I had someone to visit before I went down.

The mountains are confusing. We have weird winters. One week, it'll be snowing like the end of the world, and the next, the snow will be melting and it'll feel like spring outside. We'll even have a few days of dry dead grass before we get blown out by another snow storm.

Today - erm, tonight - it's one of those times where the grass is dry and the temperature is wonderful. Without shoes, the grass was a littl prickly, but it's something one overlooks. Besides, I wasn't just going for a midnight stroll - I was a girl on a mission. No, not a 'save-the-world' mission - it was a personal mission, just to put my own heart at rest.

I was going to see Roger.

See, this is where I felt the worst about him. He had asked us - Johann, actually - if he could be buried in the ground - 'Like a man,' he had put it. And we did, but thanks to supposed body snatchers, we could't even put his real name on it. He was buried under the name Archie Stanton, and he was who I was going to see.

I found it easily - his grave was on a rolling hill, the nameplate unreadable in the darkness. I sat down next to it, hissing in pain as my skin tried to stretch where it couldn't.

"Hey, Roger," I said, laying my hand on the marker. "How goes it, man?"

I waited for an answer I knew would never come.

"Yeah, as you can see, I'm back in the land of the living," I said, laying down in the dead grass. "Not a very nice place - not as nice as the places I saw you in."

Wow, here I am, having a conversation with a dead body, waiting for it to talk to me.

"I wish you could be here, man," I sighed. "Life sucks major ass. I don't know why those people chose me . . . was it because I was the first one there? Already one who's had an NDE? Those things are pretty cool, all things considered."

I looked up at the stars, searching for the familiar constellations.

"I don't know if Greg's okay," I said sadly. "Or if Daimio's okay. All I know is that I've got a couple hundred stitches to add to my collection."

I held up an arm to look at it better. There were four or five cuts on just one arm, and each one had between ten and twenty stitches. That was ONE ARM. Who knows how many stitches I had all over my body? Probably the doctors, since they're the ones who sewed me up.

"I look like Frankenstein's monster," I added. "You'd laugh at the one - you liked that movie. But I really do. I'll be scarred for life - physically and mentally. Double whammy."

I stopped talking. I almost expected an answer. But not really.

"You liked Superchick, too," I went on. "When we'd hang out and listen to music, that was the band you always asked for. This one song . . . Rock What You Got I think . . . that was your favorite."

I hummed the tune of the song, trying to remember what the exact words were.

This one's for the beaten down
The ones who lost their rock and roll
Rise up you lost ones, claim your crown
You were born to rock inside your soul.

"You loved that song," I said dreamily, lost in my memories. "It was great to dance to - great beat. You used to try and get me to dance in front of people, and you would laugh at how red my face would turn. Reminds of something funny that happened a few weeks ago. I walked into the kitchen singing Blood by MCR - at the top of my lungs. And everyone was listening and watching. God, I was never so embarrassed."

Damn, I could almost hear him laughing at that one.

"But you know me - I-----'m theeeeeee KINDA HUMAN WRECKAGE THAT YA LOVE!" I sang the last part, trying to be funny.

"I told them about what happened in Mexico," I said. Funny was gone. "I didn't let them know all the details, but they get the gist of it. Only you know what really happened."

I could almost hear the unasked word: Why?

"I'm already on suicide watch and stuck in two different types of therapy," I scoffed. "I don't want things to get worse. And the last thing I want is pity."

I lay in the grass, watching the sky, content to be outside, when the first alarm went off. It was loud and high-pitched, causing a ringing headache.

"And there they go," I mutter. "You know, I bet this is a killer hill in the summer. Beautiful sunlight AND moonlight, lovely grass, an awesome view . . . "

I yawned. I shouldn't be yawning - I wasn't tired. I slept for God knows how long - I shouldn't be tired.

Unless, like, the doctors drugged me.

. . . . . .

Crap.

Another alarm joins the first, and I can see flashlights in the distance. Even far away, the lights seem too bright, and I rolled over so my back was facing the base. Damn lights. I could see them getting closer. I smiled as I thought of how I could scare them - short out the batteries in the lights. Yeah, that aughta spook 'em.

But I didn't - I wasn't up to it. I'd just let them find me here, in all my tired glory.

Of course, I wasn't expecting a boot poking me in the side. I didn't jump, but I scooted away from the boot. Damn boot. It poked me again, but I scooted away from it agian.

"Wake up, Jink." It was Liz.

"I'm awake," I pointed out.

"Then get up off the ground."

"It's warm here."

"If you don't get up, I'll set Manning on you."

"Ooo, I'm so scared." I sat up and glared at her. She glared back. WIth a sigh, I stood up and windmilled to keep my balance.

"Don't know why you're out here, anyway," Liz grumbled, leading the way back to the base.

"I'm fine," I pointed out.

"Have you seen yourself?" Liz snapped. "You're a walking sewing project."

"Yeah, but I'm alive, ain't I?" I asked, smiling. "Life could be worse."

"Just come on."

The doctors forced me into a gown and gauze . . . again. I growled and crossed my arms, hunching my shoulders and staring at the bed covers. I cursed the doctors, hospitals, and humans in general. It's three in the morning, and all I want to do is deck someone. Or maybe get some Dr. Pepper.

Daimio walked into the room (can't the man knock?) and sat in the availible chair. I glare at him - I;m just mad the the entire fucking world.

"Saw you went for a walk," he said conversationally.

"Nice powers of observation ya got there, Captain Obvious," I said sarcastically.

He pulled an object out of his pocket and tossed it to me. I easily snatched it out of the air, and realize it's my iPod.

"Whoa, ya saved it for me!" I said happily.

"I just knew that if I didn't, as soon as you were able to get up you'd kick my ass," he shrugged.

"Damn right," I agreed. "Thanks, dude."

"What can I say?" he shrugged again. "Toldja it was my job to make sure you came back in one piece. The iPod's part of the deal."

I got the low-down from Greg (who was returned to his normal size, thank God) later, after Daimio had left.

He had gone through extreme measures to rescue my iPod from a bloody fate.

He was the one who noticed I wasn't in my bed, and called the alarm.

And (I'm not sure about this - he could've lied) when I was going into surgery, I had reached out for someone and begged them to stay with me.

That was him, too.

"Crap," I said. "This is kinda weird."

Greg held out a note card: "You're telling me - if I didn't know any better, someone would think he likes you."

"That's just plain creepy," I said. "He's a cool guy - higher in my book, since he saved my iPod - but I'm not all for somethin' like that right now."

"So, you'd be interested if you were older?" Greg wrote. If he had a human face, I knew he'd have a suggestive smile.

"Shut up."

*My brother had this blanket that said CHEVROLET on it, and it was the warmest (and scratchiest) blanket in the world. So yeah, there ya go, Jink has one now.

**Yeah, me and my friend Kira had all these ideas about things Robin could've said to Batman, and this was high on out list. Can you imagine a tecaher's face if you say "HOLY HOOKERS, BATMAN!"? Funny stuff, guys.

Yeah, aboot the end . . . . yeah, despite what you think, THIS IS NOT A LOVE STORY. Unless, like, that's what you people want, but I'm not doing that. Sorry. He's filling in the 'older brother' role in her life, since Roger's gone and bought the farm. So there XP.

Review, my minions. If you don't . . . . NO NEW CHAPTERS FOR YOU!

Oh, and the song was an idea stolen from AKA, my loyal reader. HA! I used it!

~Izzy of the pants that were stolen