A/N: See? Aren't you all just so happy and proud of me? I kept my promise. So, now, you MUST enjoy this chapter. If you don't, then I'm not continuing! Okay, yes I will. But I will NOT be happy if you don't tell me what you think! It doesn't have to be a good review, mind you – I don't mind constructive criticism. Okay… enjoy.

Chapter Ten

If she could talk, if she could just reassure Chandler that she was okay, she was fine, and explain that everything was going to work out, the days wouldn't have been so long. Without Monica, and without any knowing of whether or not he'd be able to speak to her again, Chandler felt more miserable with each breath he took. To numb down the time, Chandler wrote in his journal to Monica, writing every detail of his day, from the weather to how he felt right down to the number one hit song on z100 at the moment. He wanted to make sure Monica didn't miss anything while she was unconscious and limp in the blatantly dull hospital. But he wasn't sure if that was even enough.

When he wasn't writing in the journal, he was thinking of the day at the mall. There was no way the gash that the memory left on his mind would ever heal; but without Monica, the pain of it throbbed. Worst of all, he couldn't help but beat himself up over the fact that he should have, could have, done something to help her. He was there when it happened, when Joey beat her to a coma, but he was helpless. With that knowledge, Chandler nearly doubled over in physical pain when reminiscing about the day, when remembering waking up next to Monica in the hospital, when seeing the mangled, yet breathing, body of his life. He felt responsible, yet knew he wasn't; he felt without a heart, yet knew it was there; he felt like he was losing his mind, yet knew he was sane. Everything that used to make sense to him washed out of his mind, leaving Chandler with a dry, perplexed outlook.


To my one and only,

Today's worse than yesterday. Every day is worse than the last. You're killing me, here, Mon… I miss you, and I'm afraid for your life. These feelings are the same every day, put the pain sharpens. I just want you to live, babe. I need you to live. Y'know, three years ago, I had the most innocent mind, the most shielded heart, the strongest of all personalities. I could never have imagined enduring any pain; the only bad that happened to me was my dad leaving. Other than that, life was pretty ideal. It was a cliché movie. But now, with you, I'm so much more fragile, so less shielded – yet living so much more. At least, I was living so much more. Now, with your life on the line, I find it hard to live at all. So that's why I need you to wake up.

Today's weather is pretty crummy. Well, it's actually beaming with sun, rifling a small breeze, and showing only bright, scattered clouds. But to me, that's pretty crummy. It's crummy how the weather doesn't match my mood. That always makes it harder, cause I know that everyone with a sunny day is cherishing the time they have with such weather. But, here I am, wishing to be pelted with raindrops and surrounded by darkness.

I'd fill you up on today's events, but I'm about to fall asleep at my desk. Get better. Please.

Love, kisses, and stuff,

You're one and only


As he sipped a Classic Coke glass bottle, Chandler glanced around him, inhaling the toxic air of New York. As he breathed in his surroundings, he noticed a former "member" of the Joey clad stride up to him, clutching something behind his back. Instantly, Chandler stood up, raising the glass as a form of protection, trying to interpret whether the boy's lips formed a smile or a sneer.

"Get the hell away from me, Kip," Chandler hissed when the boy was in hearing range, only a few feet away from him.

Kip threw up his hands as if surrendering, a bouquet of flowers grasped in his left hand. "Peace?"

"Peace? You want peace…" The words were only slightly flamed, yet indicated that Chandler would soon burst in a rage. Chandler began to tap the now empty Coke bottle in his hand, circling Kip, slow and seething. "I don't know whether to hang you, drown you, or just stab you in the heart with glass."

"Hey, Chandler, I thought we were friends," Kip replied, seemingly reformed into innocence.

Chandler chortled menacingly. "Yes, it sure showed what great buddies we were when you tried to kill me!" His voice raged in such a volume, both Kip and Chandler jumped, sure that the building next to them shook.

"No, we weren't trying to kill you…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You were trying to kill Monica! You're such a moron, Kip! A devil, a jackass!"

"Chandler, I only came here to apologize and visit Monica. And give her these." Kip withdrew his arm to bring the flowers closer to Chandler.

"It's not going to happen! Never are you going to be forgiven! You almost killed her, Kip! And the only reason you're apologizing is because you were caught!"

"Would it have really been that much of a loss?" Kip sneered, his innocence obviously vanishing with every word Chandler exploded towards him.

Chandler, his face turning red, his body trembling, his heart about to rip out of his chest, grabbed the outstretched arm, twisted it until he heard a crack, and snatched the flowers. Kip fell to the floor from the shock and pain of a contorted arm, as Chandler threw the flowers back into his face forcefully, making sure the thorns of the roses thrust into Kip's skin.

"You're not to come within one hundred yards of Monica – or we'll report to the cops, and you'll go to jail for good. Just back off and live your own pathetic life. Go run down the alley and buy some beer, whatever; as long as it has nothing to do with Monica. Actually, while you're at it, you can go to hell. Go to hell, Kip. You and the rest of your buddies."

Before moving, Chandler took his Coke bottle, raised it in the air, and thrashed it to the ground, missing Kip by inches. Kip, startled and afraid for his life, jumped slightly at the sound of shattering glass, wincing as some of the glass tore into his skin to accompany the thorns already implanted. Before he got up, he looked up at Chandler, who, in turn, looked down, his shadows creating what looked like a masked reaper.

"I'll give you mercy, Kip," Chandler finished, his voice dripping with nothing but hatred. "Even though you gave nothing of the sort to Monica."

With that, Chandler stepped over Kip and walked into the building that awaited, pushing the glass door open, walking inside, and unwilling to look back and see if the body laid out on the floor had the strength to move on.


As Chandler entered the colossal mansion he and his mother shared, sighing, rubbing his temples, and trying to hold in tears, glistening eyes sparked out of the shadows of the marble living room.

"Chandler." The voice was unmistakable; the tone was terrorizing.

Chandler cut off his pace and stopped short, spinning towards the sound of the voice.

"Um, something wrong, Mom?"

For a moment, everything around the two froze, and, for an extra moment, the two of them locked eyes. What Chandler saw in his mother's eyes lacked love or concern; instead, it held bitter contempt, blended with pure collision. What truly took Chandler aback, however, was the repulsion and disgust that was hidden behind her skin's shadows.

"You are never to see her again."

To Be Continued…

What did you think? Review to let me know! I hope you guys aren't getting disappointed with me or Forbidden. There's still a lot that has to happen in this story… and I mean a lot when I say a lot. Anyway… just tell me what you think. I know I'm a little rusty, but I'll jump back.