A/N: Yup, Chapter Three is here! Thanks a bunch for all of the reviews, each and every one means so much to me! Notice how these chapters are coming up sooner than "If I Had"? That's cause of the reviews! Well, that and I know what I'm gonna write ;) Keep them coming, and I'll keep the quick reviews coming! But, if I don't update soon, it's cause I just started… the "c" word :p Yup, the big C! Extra points to anyone who can figure out what that means! :p And, once again, while we're not on the subject, if I offend anyone in any way, please tell me and I'll change whatever it is so that it doesn't offend you! And… yeah, I know Judy isn't as bad on the show as I'm going to make her be, but it's my story and I wanna make her horrible! :p

Chapter Three

"S-sorry," Monica mumbled, slowly backing away as her mother took another swig of her drink. "I d-didn't mean it."

"You always mean it!" Judy snapped, heading closer towards her. Monica backed away, terrified.

"No I don't! I – I just blurt things out," she replied, her eyes burning with fear. This happened frequently, but her mother never looked so enraged, so furious. And the fact that she'd just had four bottles of beer didn't help, either. Judy walked closer to Monica, leaving Monica no place to go since the wall was behind her.

"I hate you," she whispered into Monica's ear, the smell of beer reeking her breath. "I hate that you're my child, I hate that I know you, I hate that you're alive."

Suddenly, Judy raised her hand and slapped Monica hard across the face. The impact left Monica falling to the floor, tears in her eyes. Judy snickered and threw the empty bottle to Monica's arm, sending shattered glass into her skin. Then, she walked up to her room and closed the door behind her.

"S-she's just drunk," Monica whispered to herself, pain written across her, tears beginning to fall. She slowly, carefully, stood up and walked over to the kitchen, holding up her arm to make sure the glass didn't go any deeper. She sat down at the table weakly, began to carefully pick the glass out of her skin, and flinched as the first piece came loose and fell to the floor. She continued the pattern of taking out the glass and then flinching seven more times until all the pieces were gone from her arm. She sighed and rubbed her arm, now full of cuts. "She's just drunk." When she heard a grunt come from the kitchen door, Monica's eyes quickly shot up. When she saw Ross standing there, she quickly tried to wipe her tears from her face. "What do you want?" Monica asked, trying to sound as angered as she could.

"She hit you again," he stated simply, his feet rooted to his spot. "I heard her yelling."

Monica sighed and stood from the table. She walked passed Ross and into the living room. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, flopping down on the couch. Ross walked over to her and sat beside her.

"Don't give me that, Monica, you know I'm smarter than that." He looked her over, frowning. "There was yelling, you have cuts all over your right arm, and your cheek is incredibly swollen. It's happened before, and Mom just had a whole lot of beer."

"Whatever, Ross, I'm not in the mood."

"What did you do?" he asked, ignoring her silent request to leave the subject alone. Monica looked at Ross, hurt.

"You mean you think I did something to her? That I said something? And even if I did, it'd be automatically okay for her to punch me and throw her bottle of beer at my arm?" she replied, looking away from her brother to try and hide the constant flow of tears coming.

"I – I didn't say that…"

"Oh please, Ross, you're just trying to take her side. I was the wrong one in the situation, happy? I took out a gun and threatened to shoot her, so she was just defending herself." Monica stood from the couch and walked over to the staircase, walking up the stairs. She walked over to her room and shut the door hard behind her.

"Don't slam the door!" she heard her mom's slurred voice yell from two shut doors. Monica sighed and fell onto her bed, cradling her cut arm, which was still bleeding.

"Some way to spend a Friday night," she mumbled to herself. She stood from her bed and walked over to her closet, pulling out a First Aid kit, since her mom hid one in her room for just herself and Ross. She pulled out a roll of bandage and began to slowly wrap it around her right arm, making the layers as thin as possible. When she was finished, she hid the kit back in the closet and walked back over to her bed, sitting on top of the soft covers.

She knew that when the kids at her school saw the bandage wrapped around her, they'd begin to shoot off rumors. Most of them would probably be "She began to knock someone out, but they got a hit on her, too" or "She tried to stab her arm for people to feel sorry for her."

It seemed strange to Monica that she was the center of rumors for years. What's so fascinating about talking about my life? she'd always think to herself. However, although she didn't know why she was still the center of rumors, she did know how it started: her mom. Her mom and all of the hideous things she did, and the one truly horrible thing she did so many years ago, before Monica was even born. But, for almost 18 years, the entire town knew what she did. So, Monica grew up knowing too. And so did all of the other children in the town growing up. And so would the children after that, and after that; the Gellar name was dragged in the mud forever. And because of that, Monica only had two friends. Because of that, Chandler was the only boy she'd ever kissed. Because of that, dirty glances were shot her way every day in school. And, if it weren't for Chandler, Monica was sure she'd try to kill herself.

Monica slowly laid her head down on her pillow and stared at the ceiling above her. Her mother ruined everything for her, and she knew it; she knew it and she cherished it. Her mother hit her whenever possible, her mother gave her threats, her mother kept reminding Monica how hideous she was.

If Monica had a father, she knew things would be so much different. He'd hug her when her mother hit her, he'd compliment her when her mother fired insults at her. But she didn't have a father, and she never would; she never even knew him. Sure, she knew that his name was Jack, he was Jewish, and most of the town adored him, but she didn't know how he'd be to her, or what he'd do to or for her. She'd never be able to see him face-to-face, only through pictures.

Monica sighed and closed her eyes, trying to shut her mind off for the night. But she couldn't; thoughts of her hateful mother and probably loving father filled her mind, sending her off to only a fitful sleep.

And bubbling up inside of her, hate for her mother grew each and every minute.

* * *

Monica walked along the sidewalk in the dark, cold night, and hugged herself to attempt to keep warm. When she finally saw Chandler's massive house, she quickly walked around the stone driveway and to the side of the building. There, she picked up the large ladder hidden in the grass and began to climb it. When she reached the window to Chandler's room, she gently knocked against the glass. The window quickly opened as Chandler helped her in. He smiled into the dark, seeing only her figure.

"I thought you'd never come," he whispered, kissing her lips gently. Monica hugged him when the kiss ended.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"That you are," Chandler smiled, burying his face in her sweater. When they pulled apart, Chandler walked over to his bedside lamp and turned on the switch. Seeing her face in the light made his smile widen. They walked over to his bed as Chandler scooted to the headboard and Monica climbed on top of his lap.

"I haven't seen you in two whole days," Monica said, resting her head on his chest, her eyes closing. "I missed you."

"Really? Two whole days?" Chandler joked, taking Monica's hands. He felt her cold fingers and covered his hand over hers, attempting to keep her warm. "God, you're freezing, Mon!"

"It's cold outside," she mumbled, remaining in her spot. Chandler smiled.

"That's right… I have heat, I forgot."

Monica rolled her eyes and sat up so she could look towards Chandler. She reached her hand out towards his cheek and rubbed it. "Keep me warm, then," she replied, grinning. Chandler raised his eyebrows.

"Oh really?"

"Hug me, you sick pervert!"

Chandler laughed and pulled Monica towards him, wrapping his arms around her. "Exactly what I had in mind!"

"Oh, please, you have a gutter mind."

Chandler hugged Monica tighter. "Yeah, you're right." Monica nodded against his chest.

"I'm always right."

Chandler held onto Monica with arm and rubbed her cheek with the other. But when he felt her wince, he quickly stopped. Monica sat up, looking at Chandler confused. "What?" she asked.

"Why'd you just wince, did I hurt you?" he asked, panicked. Monica quickly shook her head.

"No, no you didn't! Nothing's wrong!" she replied, a bit too quickly.

Chandler looked at Monica skeptically. "Are you sure?" he asked, concerned. Monica nodded.

"Positive."

Chandler nodded, then stroked her cheek once more. Once again, Monica winced. It wasn't until then that Chandler noticed how swollen it looked. He frowned. "Monica, what happened to your chin? Why is it so swollen?"

"Nothing happened to my chin." When she saw Chandler's look after her answer, she knew she wasn't going to get out of it so easily. "I – I hit my head on my bedside table today when shutting off the alarm clock."

"Monica, you're lying. We promised each other we'd never lie, and I can tell something's wrong. Tell me just what is wrong." He sighed, looking at her with hurt eyes. "Please."

Monica took a deep, shaky breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them once more, Chandler was looking at her expectantly. "My mom…" She paused, looking away from Chandler. "My mom hits me," she whispered in a scratchy voice. "She – she punched me… and…" Monica rolled up the sleeve to her right arm, revealing the bandage. "She threw her bottle of beer at me." Upon seeing Chandler's shocked face, she quickly shook her head. "B-but don't think that that's bad! No, she's done worse-" Monica suddenly stopped talking, realizing she was making it worse. She sighed. "I didn't want you to worry, so I never told you."

"Mon," he simply whispered, pulling her into another hug. "Oh, Mon." He took in a deep breath. "I'll keep you safe, no matter what. I – promise."

* * *

"What is love? Love is pure, love is good. Love is beautiful, love is hateful. Love can complete you, and love can destroy you."

Mrs. Unger smiled, looking broadly across the room full of teenage students. She walked up and down the room, then walked back up to the front. "So, that is how I define love," she said, still smiling. "How do you define love?" She looked around the room, but no one volunteered. "Ms. Gellar, tell me what you think love is."

Everyone's head turned toward Monica as she slid in her seat.

"How would she know?" she heard someone snicker. Mrs. Unger shot a glance at the person that said it.

"Mr. Tribbiani, if you would like to comment, raise your hand and you tell me what love is." Joey looked away, so Mrs. Unger looked back at Monica. "What's love?"

Monica looked across the room to Chandler, who was smiling at her. She smiled back, and looked to the teacher. She took a deep breath, feeling all eyes on her. "Love is indescribable," she whispered, thinking of how she felt with Chandler, ignoring everyone else. "There's no way of putting true love into words. You'd have to feel it to believe it. There's not one word that can describe how incredible love feels… not one word in any dictionary. But I can say that love is what keeps people going when they want to give up, it's what makes people smile when they want to break down and cry." Monica looked away from all of the gaping faces that were staring at her and stared straight into Chandler's eyes. "Love is rare, but when you do finally find it, hold onto it, because it's worth more than gold and diamonds."

As everyone stared at Monica shocked, Mrs. Unger smiled. "Better than my words," she replied.

Someone from the back of the room sneered. "Yeah, and how would you know, Monica? Did you steal those words from one of the books you bury yourself into?"

Monica looked back to see who said that. It was Joey again. "When you finally find love, you'll know," she simple stated, then sat back to face the front of the room.

Mrs. Unger walked around the room and smiled. "Very well put, Monica. Tell me, though… have you been in love?"

Monica looked away from everyone, staring at the wall in front of her. "Is it important?" she replied. The teacher looked at Monica and nodded.

"Just curious as to how your comment is so heart-felt. I'm pretty sure that no one can say those words and not feel love themselves."

"No, I haven't been in love." She looked at Chandler, who was looking at the floor. "I am in love."

"With who? You're dead dad? Cause I'm pretty sure you don't love your mom, and most definitely sure you've never dated anyone before. I mean, with what your mom-"

"Joey! Principal's office, now!" Mrs. Unger yelled, pointing her finger towards the door. But Monica didn't seem to notice how Joey slowly began to walk out of the room, terrified. She was focusing on the sting that his words left her.

"Hey, Joey," she said, startling everyone including the teacher. Joey turned around. Monica looked him straight in the eye. "That's right, my dad is dead, and that's right, my mom is cruel. But how is that my fault? I wasn't even born when it all happened! So I was hoping to live my life fully. But it's people like you who make that impossible."

Joey glared at Monica. "Good." Then he walked out of the door and slammed it behind him, causing everything hung on the wall to shake. Everyone looked at Monica, expecting to see tears in her eyes. Instead, she looked up at her teacher.

"So let's get on with 'Romeo and Juliet,'" she mumbled, opening her book. Mrs. Unger looked at Monica and walked over to her desk. She slowly kneeled down beside her.

"Monica, are you okay, dear?" she whispered for just Monica to hear. Monica nodded her head.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Joey can be very vicious at times, don't let his words get to you."

"All he did was remind me of my life. How can that be vicious?" Monica slammed her book closed. "How can that hurt me? My dad is dead, I've never known or seen him, my mom's a drunk and hates me, my brother ignores me, and every single person in this town thinks that I'm a whore and horrible person because of my mom. I'll never be able to live a normal life, and no one will ever look passed my mom." She stood from her desk, gathering all of her books. "My life is perfect."

Then the bell rang, and everyone ran from the room as Monica slowly walked out.

Chandler was the only one left in the room, the only one with tears in his eyes.

To Be Continued…

I'm sorry if this chapter disappointed you! It kind of introduced the "secondary plot" in the story. Most of the story will be about Chandler and Monica and how they're… * whispers * forbidden. But I just wanted this plot to… I don't know. It does have to do with the main plot, though. And next chapter will be more Chandler and Monica-ish. Please, please, please tell me if you liked it and if you want me to continue! And thanks for all of the reviews for the last chapter, I hope to have the same feedback :D