Disclaimer: Still not mine, never will be.

Note: The meaning of xoxo - it's just a heads up if I'm going to be writing from Jude's P.O.V.

Chapter two.

xoxo

I'm not sure what happened next. I don't remember how I got here. Probably walked. Ran. Maybe it has to be that way. The After. To stand up after something like that happens... To pull yourself together after something like that happens... Maybe your mind has to shut off. Maybe it'd kill a person to remember what that took. What it took inside of you to stand again. And walk. Or run. Whatever. I'm here now. Remembering the way I lied to my mother. How easily the words came, not my own, not from inside me. I was drawing them from the air. I was watching from a distance. She looked concerned. She took my temperature. It turns out I have a tiny fever, though I don't understand. She wanted a hug but I walked away. She called out of work for me, and I showered. I don't really want to remember the shower. The way I didn't cry, the way I scrubbed my skin raw. What I do know is that I'm wearing a pad now because of the bleeding and I can't sleep, or won't. I don't think I will ever again.

IIIII

"Burn my name, my mouth, my eyes, burn my memory, I am not right," I read these. These words, so old, and smeared in sloppy scrawl across the page. I had written this before, so long ago. The start to some song I'd never continued. It's hard to breathe. I slam my journal shut and flinch at the sound. My mother shoots me an uneasy glance before returning her eyes to the road, and I feel guilt. She's concerned, obviously. Her face carved with the lines of worry, a perminant frown. I'm biting my lip, peeling away at the skin with teeth. He touched that skin, his fingertips wandering so lightly over my lips. Never meeting them with his own, but staring so longingly. I have to get rid of it. I have to get rid of it somehow. The car pulls to a stop outside of G-Major. I leave without saying goodbye. Wave and feel another rush of guilt as she drives away. I don't want to go in there. I linger outside the door for a moment, holding my breath. I can do this. I can. I have to.

IIIII

"Jude, how you doin'?" is the first thing I hear.

Suddenly Darius is at my side, an arm thrown around my shoulder. I tense up, let me go, let me go. The way the man held my wrists, the blue eyed man, the mystery man, the monster man. I don't know his name, he's just a man, any man. All men. Darius with his arm around my shoulder is that man. How capable he is of hurting me. How capable they all are. What's to stop them? And, Darius leads me along, toward the studio, this fake smile on his face. And, then I remember he asked me a question. And, I'm expected to answer. How am I feelin'? I'm so far away from myself, I have no idea. I think that I'd kill myself if I got any closer to look, though.

"Okay," I mumble.

"Good," his tone changes to harsh. We stop looking and he turns me to face him. "We need a new single, Jude. A hit. And, soon. So get in there, and get crackin'."

I nod as he nudges me forward and I step inside the studio. Kwest is there, messing with the sound-board. My stomach tumbles. We're alone in a sound-proof room and his face looks so serious. I notice the muscles in his arms, how strong he really is. I keep standing here, unsure, when he turns, suddenly aware of my presence. A giant smile spreads across his face and suddenly melts the ice inside. Watching him take off his head-phones, I feel somehow safer. It's only Kwest, after all. He's just a great big teddy-bear. He's safe. One of the good ones. I can trust him. I swear, I can trust him.

"Hey, Jude," he says, deep voice so friendly. "How you feelin'?"

"Better," I say, nodding, smiling slightly.

I feel shy. New at this. Kwest is the same, but I'm not. He watches me curiously, with my notebook tucked under my arm and my hands in my pockets. I kind of wander around the room, unsure of what to do anymore. What to say. I don't remember how it used to be. I can't think back, my mind only draws blanks. That whole world and life feels so ancient. Not mine. I am not mine.

"Tommy'll be here in a minute," Kwest tells me. "He just went..."

But, I tune the rest out. Tommy kissed me last year. Tommy's mad at me, now. Tommy isn't safe. I don't how to feel about things anymore. I don't know if I love him anymore. Then the door opens and I wheel around. His face changes from expressionless to cocky once he sees me here.

"Well, look who decided to show up," he says, tone arrogant, sarcastic. "I guess that winning an award gave you some diva illusion and now you think you can come and go whenever you please."

He's walking while he talks. Grabbing his guitar and stopping, standing before the couch. He pauses, staring at me, like I'm stupid, or something.

"You just gonna stand there all day or you wanna get to work?" he asks.

I blink, and sit. I can't argue him. I don't like that he's angry. I don't like his eyes. Like the monster man's eyes. I feel afraid of Tommy. Tommy sitting next to me, even with a frowning Kwest across the room. But, then Kwest stands up.

"I'll be back," he says, walking to the door. "Later."

He leaves and now there's no one else. How easily Tommy could be that monster man, now. The room is sound-proof. No one would know. No one would stop him. I already know how strong he is. I already know what men can do to women. So easily. A hand flys in front of my face, waving, snapping me back to reality.

"Glad to see your back," Tommy shoots. "Now, we have a song to write. Let's get started. Lyrics. Whatcha got?"

"Um," I can't think. "I..."

I begin flipping through my journal. I feel strange. I don't like him watching me. Waiting. I don't know what I've got. Those words. I find those words and I stop again. Burn my name, my mouth, my eyes. Burn my memory. I am not right, I am not right, I am not right. Tommy won't look away, and I'm just staring at these words. Everything feels so broken inside of me. I don't know who to trust. I don't know what to do with myself.

"Jude," Tommy says.

My head snaps in his direction. His eyes are big in his face, worried. They look like the monster man's eyes. Except, sad. They look sad for me. I don't want pity. I never asked for this. Tommy, go back to hating me. I don't want pity. I don't want your pity.

"What's wrong?" he asks, voice soft.

"Noth," I have to start again. "Nothing."

He looks down at my hands.

"You're shaking," his voice is too soft.

"I'm fine," I blink.

"Jude," he repeats.

"I'm fine," I don't know what else to say. "I'm fine."

"You're scaring me," and he looks scared. He looks terrified.

"Stop it," I tell him. "Stop it. I'm fine."

I feel panicked. My eyes filling and blurring with the tears. I'm fine. I have to be fine. He has to drop it. Leave me alone. I'm fine. Please. Let me be fine. Just stop asking me questions. I am shaking. I don't understand it. I don't understand this. Why am I so crazy, now? Why did that happen to me? Tommy's just looking, looking so helpless. He has no idea. He has no idea.

"Jude," he reaches out to take my hand.

Don't touch me. I can't let him touch me. I couldn't even let my mom touch me. He won't understand and I can't explain it to him now. Just watch the way his face falls, so hurt when I pull away. Yanking my arm back, unable to stand being that close to anyone. Not anymore. I'm shaking my head and I'm smiling. I know how strange this must seem. The drops of salty water clinging to my eyelashes. It's so stupid, all of this so stupid. How can I not smile? How can I not laugh?

"Tommy, I..." the tears start to roll. "I'm fine. Just please... Please... I'm fine."

I'm going to break down. I swear I am. All the while laughing. Just watching Tommy watching me. Just like that. He looks aslost as I feel. He looks as confused. I suddenly stand and begin running. Out of the studio doors, and keep going until I find my way to the bathroom. I don't know why I'm here. I can't breathe. I can't breathe anywhere.There is no place for me hide. Not from this. Trembling and crying.I feel like an idiot. Hopeless.The door opens and Portia stops walking when she sees me.Her eyes go wide with suprise.

"Jude," she says my name like a question and starts walking toward me. "Jude, honey, what's wrong?"

"Noth," I have to start again. "Nothing."

"Says the girl crying in the bathroom," Portia tries to joke, tries to make me smile.

"I'll be fine," I tell her. "I swear. I'll be fine. I just don't want to talk about it."

"Well we can sit here," she says, motioning to the couch. "We can sit here if you'd like."

"I don't know," I mutter quietly, but I think I do.

She smirks knowingly and takes my elbow. I flinch but relax. It's Portia. It's only Portia. Sitting me down, she pulls me closer, and I let her arms wrap around me, hold me. I'm not crying too hard. I can't let it all out. I don't know what would happen if I tried letting it all out. The whole world would shatter. She pets my head lovingly and that's enough for now. And, I don't really have a choice.

"Maybe you wanna take some time off of work, huh?" she asks, pulling back to see my face.

"But, Darius," I begin.

"I'll take care of Darius," she grins.

I nod, attempting to smile back. It's not to hard. It's easier than I thought. Faking smiles. Maybe I can do this. Nodding, and standing. Brushing myself off and letting her wipe the final tears away. Sniffling and allowing her to drive me home. My mom's at work, and Sadie's at work. Portia said she'd take care of everything. Curl up in a ball and try to sleep. It doesn't work. All I can see when I shut my eyes is his face looming over mine.