I hope you guys like this chapter. I personally think it's okay, considering the mediocre plotline. I wanted to torture Aria a lot more, because I hate her more than anything, but I didn't have the heart. Anyway, I've been having writer's block lately, and no matter the amount of music I listen to, things aren't getting better. Muse... ah, what a great band. But yeah. I HAD an idea of where I want this story to end, and now I really have no idea where it's going to go. This will probably be the third or second-to-last chapter. I'll just wing it. So.. thanks for the reviews! They warm my freezing little heart (yes, my hands are practically numb right now. CURSE YOU, HEATER!).

ps. The stuff in italics.. I guess that's Nny's concience. Stuff.

----------------------------

Johnny awoke, startled under the thin, white sheets. They didn't do anything to warm the bare boy; the wind whistled in through the cracked glass of the window. There was a nice silence around him, the only noise being if he shifted positions. How had he gotten in his bed in the first place? Ah, well... the thought didn't bother him too much. The cold air seething through the thin cotton was refreshing after an endless, sweaty night.

Someone was knocking at the bedroom door. He pulled the covers over his head in embarrassment. He heard the doorknob jingle as it opened.

"Johnny?" a voice said softly.

It's her. It didn't take long to figure out whose voice that was --it was too kind to be Veronica's, and too womanly to be Frank's. What the hell is she doing here?

"Aria? How did... how did you get in?"

All of a sudden, she burst into a drawn-out sob. Johnny peeked his head out from under the covers. She was kneeled at the side of his bed, hiding her face in the mattress. He could see dark marks where her wet eyeliner had stained the blank sheet. "Your mother let me in."

Mother! Ha. Didn't she pay attention once during your story? About how you were picked up off the street? Shows how much she cares.

Johnny sat up as if he were paying attention, but he couldn't say anything to her. All that he could think about is how long it would take her to call the police on him.. for murdering her brother.

"Alex committed suicide last night," she finally choked. "Stabbed.. he stabbed himself to death, Johnny!"

You weren't caught, killer! You can breathe!

"I.. we, my mother, found him dead, and.. why would he do this!" She sobbed in broken sentences, this time burying her face into Johnny's stomach. At that point, he wasn't worried about being seen without a shirt... he was more worried about how he was going to get away from the hysterical girl.

Kill her before she finds out that Alex didn't really commit suicide.

By now, she was sitting next to him on the bed, as Johnny folded his arms and kept his distance as best as he could."I don't understand this at all. Was it my fault? Why!" was all she could say, over and over, getting quieter each time. "I can't even think how he devised such an awful--"

"Aria... leave."

She stopped crying for a moment. "Wh--what?"

"You need to leave."

You coward.

You'd be doing her a favor by ending her misery.

Johnny could only bring himself to murmur, "I can't... you can't... you can't be here." He would have added an 'or I'll have to kill you', but he decided not to risk it.

She apologized. She didn't move, though. She began sniffling again. "I... I just need somone. Someone to--"

"Aria. You need to go!" Johnny jumped up from the bed, clenching his fists. She jumped up too, and started sobbing.

That girl doesn't stop, does she?

"Why, Johnny? Why?"

---

A/N: HAHAHAHAH. Ahem. That was hilarious.

---

He couldn't do anything but strike the girl across the face. She screamed, holding her cheek up to her face and sobbing harder than she had before. All of a sudden, Johnny felt a mixture of hatred and sympathy. The girl... she cared, but she was so mindless. She really didn't have any idea about anything. Not even her own feelings. "I'm... God, Aria, I'm sorry." He reached out for her hand, and for one moment he held hers, but she took it away quickly. "I'm... please."

Learn to speak English. 'I'm Please' isn't a sentence.

"Go," he repeated. She didn't reply. "I can't fucking be around you anymore." He gripped the edge of the dresser as tightly as possible.

She walked to the door. She looked at him one last time, and the door creaked shut.

I hate her.

You hate her! What about me? I'm the one who has to listen to your twisted conversations with that bitch.

"You!" Johnny slammed his fist onto the dresser, knocking down an empty glass that had been filled with water a couple days ago. "You don't even exist. You wouldn't even know."

If I didn't exist, you wouldn't be referring to me as 'you'.

"This room... this place, it's a prison." And it wasn't a lie. Being locked up in this room made Johnny go crazy. The cold draft wasn't inviting anymore. It was only a reminder of how cold the world really was --metaphorically, and literally. Oh, and that mirror... the corpse staring back at him constantly. That reflection was no longer an innocent looking boy, who was a little rough on the edges. Since the previous night, his image had turned into a monster. A murderer. An unclean, bloody, unforgiving, hysterical, naked monster.

Oh. He completely forgot about that naked factor.

And it was pretty freezing.

Johnny sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. He went into the bathroom to wash off.

Tired of looking at yourself in the mirror? Yeah, I was too.

You damn ugly lunatic.