Author's Notes: Besides the fact that this fic takes forever to write.. I'm being pretty good about updates... It's so hard to write.. But I'm enjoying hte challange as much as I hope you guys are enjoying reading it.. So please read and review. You never know... I have a plan for this.. I don't know how many chapters it will be, but I've had the idea for a while.. So just hold on with me.. Things will get explained as we continue... I'm trying to keep along with Carter's POV of everything, which means he knows nothing... So when he learns anything, you will too... So please just drop me a line and tell me what you think.. the more reviews I get the happier I am and the more motivated I am to write...

He sat on the hardwood floor in his room. The humidity ripped through his body, the air became too hard to breathe in and out with. The sweat dripped down his temples, his back was already soaked. The lone lantern he held above him provided him with just enough light to see. The bugs buzzed around him, his recently acquainted friends. They kept away from him, and he left them alone. There was no point in trying to kill them. They would never disappear. The drizzle fled though his window and left a tiny stream of water into his room. The walls were in slow decay, the floor creaked with every step, the bed was harder than the floor. He didn't complain. At least he had a roof over his head and a bed to sleep on. Others had absolutely nothing.

He glanced back down at the pictures he had been holding in his hand. He mindlessly left them in his suitcase, a memory of the move he had made years before with Kem. The mansion had been given up to research and had bought a house for the two of them and their baby. It still hurt him from inside. He lost a son, he lost Kem, he lost everything important to him. Or his jaded views of each. The pictures were slowly fading, the edges of the oldest ones turned into premature decay because of the atmosphere. He held a few, a recollection of his brother. The two brown haired, brown-eyed boys standing next to each other. Bobby was about a foot taller than him in the pictures, big brother with his little brother. They had been inseparable. Too many memories escalating toward him, so much to handle, he can't. He shifted the pile toward the middle, forgetting his childhood, a dull memory he had managed to force out.

Then there was Kem. She had been the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was so passionate and strong willed. He was instantly drawn to her. He knew from their first meeting something was there between them. He had been right, but maybe it just wasn't the time or the place. He thought about her lying in bed alone at night. If she was doing okay, if she survived, if she was happy. Pictures never change, even if the people in them do. He noticed the creased edges, the little rips on the sides. He had tried willing her back to him through the pictures. His fingers ran over her smiling face, if he could only touch her once again . . . His fingers left prints, obscuring her, damaging her, destroying her. He pushed them away, throwing them down onto the open suitcase. They landed with a hard flop, as if every picture had absorbed the painful association he held with each. He picked his frail and worn body off the floor, forcing him muscles to move. He heard the sound of two voices echoing from her room. Their vibrations held in the dense air, stretching each word out for miles. He made his way closer. Luka was scolding her. She was forcing back sobs. The floor under his steps creaked. He stayed a few feet away, within distance of the words.

"Abby, she's gone. You knew this would happen from the beginning. You gave her the best you could . . . "

He could almost see her, rocking back and forth on the bed, hugging the pillow in her arms as tears rolled down her red cheeks. The memories she held will never stop haunting her. She will see her daughter in everything around her, the walls, the bed, the floor, the trees, the flowers, the grass. It will be a constant reminder of her struggle that she will never break away from her. It's like a deep, red scar that keeps on being ripped open, allowed to bleed.

"It wasn't enough! I could have done more . . . I could have brought her to the states, I could have done something . . . anything . . . "

Her voice comes out and cracks, straining to make sounds. Her lungs continue to gasp for air, sending her coughing. Her loudest voice is merely a whisper, no energy left to try more than that. He walks closer, peering through the hole made by the door and frame. He's sitting beside her now, holding her body upright, supporting her life. She's slowly disintegrating. She used to be a heavy, hard stone. Now she's turned into nothing but simple grains of sand, the transformation almost complete. The last few specks breaking into small and smaller pieces.

"You need to go home."

Her hand violently pushes him away, sending him a distance away from her. She's doing it again: pushing anyone who cares away from her. Pretending she can do it on her own. Just like the flower in the weeds, she can't do it. Everyone is dependant on someone else. It's not a weakness but a strength.

"This is home."

She pulls her legs closer to her body, wrapping her arms around them, leaning against the wall. The dark black circles around her eyes are clearly seen. Her cheeks are permanently red. Her hair is greasy and disheveled, thrown into a catastrophe by the events. Her locks fall in front of her eyes, shielding her from seeing the world around her. She looks like a lost child, afraid and alone. He tries to place his hand near her, to push away the strands from her face but she cringes away from him. His touch is acid against her skin. He burns right through her, burning coal against a frail flower.

"Abby . . . "

She lays down, covering her shivering body with the blankets she has gathered. The temperature is boiling, yet she's shaking from cold. She wraps her body as close to itself as she can, burying her head in the pillow, locked off from the rest of the world. It's a lost battle. She'll never change. She's never going to be what everyone envisions her to be.

"No."

Her voice is steady and calm. Her decision has been made. He sighs heavily, throwing his hands up in defeat. He makes his way toward her, pushing her hair away, ignoring her movements away from him. He places a delicate kiss on her dry lips. She closes her eyes, pushing the tears away. She touches her lips as he moves away, his touch, his taste: a memory. He leans down again, another kiss on her forehead. His voice whispers a sweet command, a gentle pacifying song.

"Take care of yourself... I love you."

He makes his way toward the door, away from the secrets they revealed. He wasn't supposed to know. His hand wipes away the drops of perspiration gathering along his brown. His shoulders ache from the constant struggle to keep the world alive. His back has lost the battle with pain. He simply beared it now. There is no help for it, no drugs, no antidotes, nothing. The physical pain he burdens is nothing compared to the mental pain she holds within her fragile form. She's so tiny, undeserving of all this. He could see her years before. Strong-willed and determined, beautiful, radiant, shimmering eyes, and when she smiled, she was the only woman in the world he ever wanted. His retention was a lie.

The door slammed shut behind him, he glanced back at the man he no longer knew. Time had changed everything and everyone. The strained relationships, the silence, the unrest fulness could be heard and felt like a knife getting through vulnerable flesh. He received a look of distrust and hopelessness. The woman they both loved was slowly slipping away to a new hell, where the only thing she saw was rivers flowing with blood, black skies, and acid falling like rain, corroding her from the inside out. The life she was is no longer. He walked, not saying a word, glancing back, as if thinking she would follow him, and he would be able to help her. Nothing moved, not even the grass. He looked back toward the path. He was gone, a small speck slowly disappearing into the horizon leaving her with him. She didn't trust him, she wouldn't go near him, he was afraid to say a word to her. He felt like he was imprisoned, the only way to break out is to love again. He's in fetters with her, except she's chain-less. She has no control over anything, he did this to himself. He put the shackles upon himself. He ran his hand through his dark brown mane. The end has come, but there is an even harder beginning.