Here you go, my loyal readers:

Tonight is the week anniversary of Zack not hitting me. Not much of a thing to celebrate; but hey, it's a week with no bruises. I feel like tonight will be important, and I don't know if that's good or bad.

Right now I'm getting ready. I dress casually, because he said that he just wants to come to our apartment. But I still want to feel special, so I put on the dressiest semi-casual clothes I can find: a white baby-doll top and black skinny jeans, with a pair of knee-high leather boots. I curl my ponytail, making it look as elegant as Carlos did on the night of…. never mind.

When he called and told me that he wanted to come over to talk to me, he didn't seem happy. He sounded excited yet serious, and I don't know what that means.

I am finally satisfied with my appearance, smacking my lips together and trying my best to strike a come hither pose…with little success.

There is a knock at the door, and I practically run out of the bathroom. I have made everyone leave 2-J for the occasion, and there is no sound but my sprinting steps, echoing all around the empty place.

When I finally get to the door and open it, I come to an immediate halt. There is an immeasurable amount of time where Zack and I just look at each other. I cock my head inquisitively at the strange look on his face: it's somewhere between serene and angry.

Then he slaps me.

There is so much force behind his blow that it makes me stagger a few steps, and I clutch at my face, at my burning cheek. He steps farther into the apartment, looking around just to be sure, and then shoves me to the ground. The coffee table catches my back, and pain radiates up my spine.

No, no, no, I think frantically. Why is he doing this? He was doing so well, tonight was the night that things were going to change.

And then I realize that things have.

"Zack!" I exclaim, putting my hands over my face. He towers over me like some frightening idol, and the fire in his eyes is enough to make me even more afraid. He takes a step toward me, and I plead, "Stop! What's wrong? What did I do?"

He is wordless as he removes a square of paper from his back pocket. I stay on the ground as he unfolds the crumpled document, before shoving it in my face and hauling me off of the ground.

The headline screams at me as I realize that it is the cover of a magazine. I almost faint when I realize what it is.

JAMES DIAMOND'S SECRET FLING! And then, as a subtitle: How the hot young pop star has found love with the sister of his bandmate!

"No," I nearly moan. His grip around my wrist tightens until I hear a crack and fire shoots halfway to my elbow. I scream, and he grabs me by the hair. Zack pulls me to a kneeling position on the ground, and slams my head on the coffee table.

"You-" bang "-filthy-" bang "-slut!" he shouts between intervals of forcefully knocking my head against the mahogany.

"Zack- no!" I cry. "It was before we even met!"

He pauses and spins me to face him. "Like that even matters, you whore." He jerks me from the floor by the same wrist as last time, and I hear another crack. My vision blurs for a moment, and all I can think of is the pain. It dulls to a low throbbing, a kind of aching numbness.

"Stop!" I yell again, and tug my hand out of his grasp. I have no idea where to go, but my first instinct is Kendall's room. I can barely run in these boots, and when I reach the doorway, I feel Zack grab my hair and pull me backwards. I hear some rip out, and when I look again he has a chunk of my brown locks clasped in his hands. I can feel the spot where he tore it off: right at the hairline in the back, and I think wildly that it won't be that hard to cover up.

He snarls, "Skank! I've loved you and bought you nice things…and now I find out that you're just a damn piece of worthless trash." He punches me in the stomach, and I crumple to the ground, where he begins kicking my side. My breathing is feeble, and once again my vision wavers. My head, wrist, and now ribs throb with every breath. I chance a look up at him to see his face. I have never seen someone look so completely…evil and demented, maybe even insane.

I suddenly reach out my uninjured hand and yank his foot out from under him. He goes down with a shout of indignation, and I pull myself to my feet, propelling my body away from him, from the boy I once loved. But halfway past the sofa, I trip over my stiletto-heeled boots.

I cry out when I try to catch myself with my hands out in front of me, searing agony flaring up my arm. There is a dull ache in my ankle, which I realize I must have twisted. I pant breathlessly and try to get up, but Zack has recovered and tackles me from behind.

How did this happen? How did this happen? I think as he and I crash to the floor. He spins me over onto my back, and straddles me as he begins to deliver blows to my face. I feel my lip start bleeding, along with my nose, but thankfully he doesn't break anything.

I hold my hands up and try to shove him off of me, to no avail. I then decide to raise a fist and punch him square in the groin.

He falls off of me sideways, clutching his injured man-parts as I crawl from him. I grab the edge of the kitchen counter to pull myself up. I can't even think around the all-consuming terror in my brain. He's going to kill me, or hurt me even worse, I think.

But that's absurd, he won't kill me…he may just permanently alter my internal organs.

I try to walk, but my ankle hurts too much. I realize that the boots can't be helping, and quickly slip them off, limping to the door in my sock-feet.

I hear a low, threatening, primal growl behind me, and freeze. How can any human being make such a noise?

"You're gonna pay, you selfish, stupid, lying slut," he says in a deathly low voice. I turn quickly to the side and dart towards the kitchen, knowing that I'll never turn the handle of the door in time. He catches me, though, and wrestles me to the ground again.

He elbows me in the stomach, and I'm sobbing openly. "Kendall! Carlos! ANYONE!" I shout, causing him to put a hand over my mouth. My tears run over his cupped palm, and he continues to hurt me. I know that no amount of cover-up can conceal this violent outburst.

Now I can't help but think, He's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me. As if reading my mind, he takes his hand off of my mouth and moves it to my throat. His eyes, wild and angry, seem sightless

as he squeezes my windpipe. He's not even himself anymore. I think that he's so consumed with rage, he can't even help himself.

I make a helpless, choked, gurgling sound and my eyes are still pouring tears. I try to raise my hands, but they only rattle feebly on the hardwood floor. Shadows and bright white spots cloud my visions, my brain is pounding, and my eyes are wide with fear.

Oh, please God, make him stop! I pray in my head.

There is only silence for a moment, and the whole world freezes as there is the sound of the lock turning, and a door opening quietly.

I decided that I'm making you wait until tomorrow for an update. :) I know I'm evil.