How can you escape a reality that's not one anyone believes in? Once you find out the truth, do you really want to believe in it? I know I wouldn't...

I'm not sure where exactly they took me after I realized what had really happened. I woke up what seemed like a week later, to only realize that it was three the next afternoon. If you had taken away everything that had just happened in the last two days, I could be dead by now, and none of this would even matter.

"Breathe..."

I tell myself as I look around and see I'm actually in a hospital. My breath quickens regardless, as I start to hypervenilate. I close my eyes and shake my head, only to feel a jolt of pain streak through my body.

"Goddamnit.."

I spat as I stopped, and looked around again. I reach for the cord hanging beside my bed, and press the button.

Ah, a nurse call. I see a rather large woman wearing a white uniform rush in.

"Anything wrong?"

She asked in a rather concerned manner.

"Where the fuck is everyone?"

I spat out, trying to stop my head from seeming like it was spinning.

"Miss, your family is out in the waiting area, shall I call for them?"

"Yeah, whatever."

I sound so mean, as I slightly smirk to myself as the room finally comes to an hault. I lay back, looking up at the ceiling. The white tiles criss-crossed one another. I lifted my hand up and started to make patterns with them.

Then suddenly I stopped. I turned the direction of the door, when I heard the familiar sound of the heel of army boots tapping against the black and white checkered tile floor.

"Malakai.."

The simple words that were spoken, and the sound of an oh-so familiar voice again.

"What are you doing here?"

I looked over at him, my eyes narrowing as I glared.

"What, Did you come to say you were sorry for leaving me again? Yeah, I don't blame you Xander, I really fucking don't."

I looked him over. The long slightly curled black hair lay down over his shoulders. His narrow, high cheeked bone, slightly dark complexioned face looked back at mine. His eyes, dark brown in colour seemed almost life-less as I had spoken the words.

"I.. you're right... "

Was all I heard of the next words he spoke.

"I know I am.."

I said in a softer more mellow tone.

"Come here."

I told him, reaching out my rather small hand out towards him. He came and took hold of it, looking down at me once again.

"I will never forgive you if you do this again... I shouldn't even this time. Look where it ended me up at."

He looked down over me, and brushed the bits of tattered hair away from my forhead. He let out a slight gasp at what he saw.

"Mal... your.. what did you do?!"

He studdered until he spat it out.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I looked up at him, arching my left eyebrow just slightly.

"Your head.. what did you do to it?"

He continued looking at it his eyes wide, seeming in a state of shock. He grabbed a hand mirror from off the dresser against the wall. I took the plastic handle into my hand, lifting it in front of my face. Solid white. I looked solid white.

I didn't realize what he was talking about until a moment later when I brought it up higher and saw the dark red cross scratched deep into the middle of my forehead.

"What.. the.. fuck.."

I dropped the mirror as it fell to the floor, I watched my reflection smash into a million pieces of broken glass. He had branded me..

I was owned..
I was his...