Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to Kiera Cass!

Dressed in a floor-length black dress, I donned a black veil to cover my tear-stained face. Every time I thought of Maxon, I was left gasping for air and crying. I ran a hand along my father's casket, silently saying goodbye.

Dad had given me my first instruments, helped me launch my singing career, supported me in every concert and event, and had encouraged me the entire time. But I didn't cry again during the entire ceremony, not even when he was lifted into the ground and buried. No amount of tears could bring him back. Ever.

By now, the entire school knew that Maxon was dating Kriss. During lunch, Kriss stopped sitting next to us, instead sitting with Celeste's old friends. She even started wearing revealing clothes, always making sure that Maxon got the full view of her cleavage.

And me? I became an empty shell. I still attended Drama classes, but I was purely acting during rehearsals, with no emotions put into my performance. I lost interest in everything except for singing.

The night of our Phantom of the Opera play arrived. I feigned illness, allowing Kriss to play the part of Christine instead. I didn't even stay to watch the musical.

Kriss may have become a slut and a bitch, but there was no mistaking the love in her eyes whenever she looked at Maxon. Let him go, my conscience said. So I did. I let him go. Forever. Because he deserved someone better than me, a fake who could only pretend and act. And so I sealed off my heart.

For Winter Break, I headed back to Carolina without my family. I plopped on my blonde wig, tucking every red strand away. And when I looked into the mirror in my hotel room, I didn't recognize myself.

I didn't even look like Mer Singer. My eyes were hollow, cheeks sunken, hair flat and dull. I was just an echo of my former self. Deciding that I would risk it, I tore off my wig. Even my normally bright red hair was no longer vibrant. Instead, it hung limply.

I wanted him. I wanted his comfort, his warmth. I ached for Maxon, but he wasn't here. I dismally walked to a small café. Only one other person was there, sitting at a table with an untouched latte.

Maxon. He looked up at me, and a wide range of emotions flitted across his face—hostility, grief, pain, anger. He snarled, "What are you doing here? This is my hometown."

All of my happiness at seeing him flew away. "This is my hometown too. I lived here until my sophomore year of high school," I dully reply, before turning away to buy coffee.

The pain was becoming too much for me to bear. I brushed my sallow hair, threw on a short black dress, laced on some complicated heels, grabbed my phone, and headed towards the nearby club. Exhausted, I bought a bottle of beer.

I don't know how many bottles of beer I drank. Somewhere in my hazy mind, drinking seemed like the solution to all my problems and pain. (A/N: I don't encourage drinking! Drinking is NOT a solution to any of your problems.)

And then I spotted a flash of blonde hair. Maxon! He was holding a shot of vodka, eyes rimmed red. Why was he here? Why hadn't I noticed him before? Maxon had obviously been drinking. A lot, judging by his eyes.

Suddenly dizzy, I took a seat on a couch. My splintered heart leaped when I saw Maxon heading towards the couch I was at.

"Maxon!" I slurred. "Why are you here?"

His voice wasn't slurred like mine, but it was heavy. "America? Look, I don't want to talk to you. You need to control yourself."

He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but I smashed my lips to his, kissing him roughly. Maybe it was the alcohol or something, but he kissed me back. His warm, comforting hands slid under my shirt while I feverishly attempted to take off his shirt.

Maxon pulled back, his hands at his sides again. He shook his head sadly, as if not believing that I had been degraded to this state. His voice was stiff again. "You can't do this, America. I have a girlfriend." With that, he left. The last I saw of him was when he called for a taxi.

Months passed like this when we got back to school. Maxon being cold and indifferent, Kriss being another person, my friends worried about me, and me empty.

Feeling tired, I walked to the café and step in line to order a cup of coffee. Horrified, I hear giggling. Kriss. "Oh, Maxon! This is so sweet! Thank you for bringing me here."

Much to my horror, Maxon and Kriss materialize next to me in line. I quickly order my coffee and am about to take a sip out of it before Kriss snatches it out of my hand, pouring it on me. After a quick check ensuring that my wig was still in place, I tug her brown hair hard, nearly ripping it off her head.

Ignoring the warm coffee staining my shirt, I punch Maxon, too, for good measure. Last time I punched him, he didn't do anything. But now, he rears his arm back, punching me in the face too.

Maxon shoves me to the ground, and shocked, I fall. My head hits a table before I crash to the hard, unforgiving ground. Me still lying on the floor, Kriss angrily stomps on my face and chest, bringing me into even more pain.

Pressing a hand to my bleeding nose while adjusting my wig, I run out of the café, tears staining my bloodied cheeks. I ran into the local park, looking for a safe place, a haven. I finally end up climbing a tree, perching on the highest branch, where I could see everything.

Ripping my shirt sleeve off, I use the fabric to bandage the little cuts Kriss gave me and to staunch the blood running from my nose. At least it wasn't broken. I couldn't believe that I had physically gotten into a fight with Kriss and Maxon. How far we came, from people who cared about each other to adversaries.

From my branch, I watched Maxon head towards my tree and sit down on the bench beneath it. So he decided to skip school today too. He had a growing bruise on his jaw, courtesy of being punched. After a while, he abruptly stood up and left.

The moment he was out of sight, I scampered down the tree, eager to go back home.

"What were you doing in a tree?" Maxon bites out. Oh. He hadn't left the park.

Why was he treating me like this? What had I done? "To get away from you."

A brief second after I said that, Maxon's eyes portray slight anguish. But the moment is gone as soon as it came.

I didn't want to deal with his game of charades anymore. "Don't you ever get it? I hate you. Why can't you leave me alone?"

His eyes were cold, hard orbs of chocolate. "Don't worry, the feeling is mutual."

With those six words, I felt broken. And as I ran away from him, I realized that my heart hadn't only been shattered, it was no longer mine. Because it had belonged to Maxon from the moment I laid my eyes on him.

Well, I hope you enjoyed!

Love, Owletta