A/N: Do I have readers for this anymore? Oh well, anyway, it's been nearly a year I know, but I never forgot about it. All this college stuff has kept me busy and too exhausted to write very much. I felt very guilty, to tell you the truth. I don't want this to be one of those stories that ended up never getting another update again and I mean that. I have a few chapters for this ready, though, (this chapter was written months ago) so I'll try to post every week or every two weeks, as I need to give myself some time.
I had lost my way with this fic, though, and I had forgotten where I was even going with it for the plot. I briefly read through it and came up with something else. Sorry if it's not very good, but I'm still determined to finish as good as it could be. Sorry again for the long wait.
Enjoy.

Two fucking months…

Two months passed. My arm was fully healed, the Amber Mansion was back in its perfect condition pre-Vortex sabotage party, and Amber and I were pretty close now.

Never thought that shit would ever happen.

With the help of Max, Steph, Mikey, and Amber, I didn't fix another goddamn thing in that house. We mostly hung out there, even with the long travel, it really was fun to be around her the longer we knew each other.

The mansion was out of the way, my body was fully healed (fucking finally), Justin and Trevor were found guilty and were in juvie, and, as corny as it sounded, my relationship with everyone I knew was way fucking better and my grades were back in the high A's my mom wanted them at.

Well, I had to start seeing a therapist, too. I hated that, never thought I would go, but I had to every Friday. I didn't need someone to tell me I had PTSD. I hadn't even experienced any insane episodes since that one time. I had my moments where my anger was worse, and I had nightmares once in a while. Beer and weed still brought back bad memories and just the sight of it made me fucking sick.

I never thought I would say it but… I felt better this way.

But now there were more fucking questions.

Sometime between my hospital stay and now, Mayor Amber just went fucking MIA.

Like, that guy just went poof.

Disappeared.

Gone.

Not like it bothered me, I couldn't care less! Nobody came after me when I never paid my debt since then, so I didn't care. But he was still Amber's dad, so I did ask her how she was doing with him gone.

She didn't give a shit either.

I didn't know how to feel about that. Her dad was an entire asshole, but I expected her to care a little bit. One telling thing was she was healed too; I never saw another bruise on her again.

Second, those Vortex shitheads just stopped.

They avoided us. We saw them around school, annoying me with their existence, but they never paid any attention ever again. I wouldn't give a fuck before, but it was weird as shit now. I needed a reason why. Why, just all of a sudden, did they stop messing with us? I had to let Dana know, but… she went missing too. Amber was especially sad about that. Her closest friend from that fucked up club… gone. She showed she was mad, but she was definitely crying more than fuming. Dana went missing and no one talked about it.

"Something on your mind?" Amber hung a French fry in front of my face.

We were in Two Whales, Amber wanted to eat lunch together, her treat. I shrugged and opened my mouth, chewing on the fry, "We need to figure out what's going on with those Vortex freaks."

She grabbed another fry and dipped it into ketchup, feeding that one to me, "It's hella weird, isn't it?"

"I'm ecstatic you're away from those fuckers, but why did it just stop?!" I slammed my fist on the table, making the trays bounce. "And your dad, remember?"

"Yeah," she nodded, grabbing her burger, as if she didn't care, "And my mom decided to leave, so something fucking weird is going on…"

It was literally yesterday. I heard Amber's mom say something like how she decided to go live somewhere else and how she'll never come back. Based on guessing, she wasn't in Arcadia Bay, or even in the state anymore. Amber had the house to herself. It sounded cool, if only Amber wasn't a lonely person.

From observing and being with her more, she had her moments that made it clear that she never had a lot of company. Or, she did but, clearly, it wasn't good company.

Amber's mom's phone wasn't registered anymore, and contact was cut completely off, leaving Amber by herself.

I sipped some of my soda, thinking about my, or our, first move. It was confusing and I didn't know where to start! It was like no matter where I choose to go first, it'd be the wrong move. But this has to be it…

"I'm thinking about going out to the detention center to see Justin and Trevor."

Amber raised her eyebrows, "Do you think they'll know something?"

"I dunno where the hell else to start." I shrugged my shoulders, "Plus, they're one of the reasons I ended up at your party. It doesn't hurt to start there."

I had to remember who Justin and Trevor were—they were my friends. I knew them long enough to know that they were just two skaters who smoked a lot of fucking weed and cared about fuck all. They didn't care about Vortex and we all went to Amber's house for the same reason.

I'll probably get nothing at all out of them, but… it's worth a shot.

I took the bus, alone, to the juvenile detention center. I kind of hated to leave Amber, she didn't want to stay either, but she wasn't directly involved with any of this bullshit. I still used the iPod she gave to me, listening to the same hundreds of songs she placed in it (my ears were fucked, but it was a nice gift), staring out the window at the passing trees.

I have to keep my cool. This is important and, with all this damn progress I've made with my health, I couldn't retreat back to that. I can't be that Chloe Price anymore.

Thank fuck it wasn't a long trip. I got off that bus as soon as I saw the building, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets as I walked towards it. It was cold as shit now; my breath was foggy as I exhaled out of my mouth.

I arrived as soon as visitation started. After doing all that signing in shit, I was allowed into the visitation area, sitting in one of the benches while other families met with their kids around me.

In all khaki, hair still long as shit, Justin walked through the door with an officer. I stood up and, as if none of those fucked up months ever happened, we did our handshake and smiled seeing each other again.

"Man, am I glad to see you." Justin said as we sat down.

"I see you're doing alright in here."

"It's just sleep, eat, do nothing, and then repeat. I'm just chilling."

"Yeah, I know how you feel."

I still thought about those hellish three days. Too fucking much, actually. The pain I had to sit through, the drugs trying to leave me, the thoughts flooding my head, just the fucking confusion I was forced to sit through for three days. As much as I hated it (and how horrific it was), it was time for me to admit that I needed it.

"Hey dude, I think it's overdue with, um…" He looked away, crossing his arms. "I don't remember any of it, but I still feel like shit for whatever the hell happened. Like breaking the shit out of your arm."

I bit my tongue; my past self's bitterness nearly came out. I would've smacked the life out of him before. But now, I didn't even like the thought.

"It's… not your fault." I said through a sigh, keeping my eyes on him. "Look, maybe this could explain something, but I need you to remember anything before that fucking thing at school happened."

"I wish I could tell you something! I swear to God, dude, I can't remember anything."

I sighed, closing my eyes. Of course, he didn't. I'm too desperate for answers and there was no way in hell he could remember any shit. Not his fault. I can't be mad at him, as much as I wanna be.

Reluctant, I said, "Right, I expected, but it didn't hurt to try. It's okay—"

"Except," he shifted in his seat, shuddering, "I remember getting stabbed with so many damn needles."

"What?"

He scoffed, "Yeah… Like, fucking anywhere it could go! I remember being smacked around, too. It had to be from these Vortex jocks and that had to be—"

"Drugs. Crazy, crazy number of drugs."

"Probably…" He nodded.

"Is Trevor here? Maybe he could remember something?"

His expression dropped, slumping in his seat as he sighed, "I hate to say this. I never thought I would say this, but…"

I waited. My legs bounced as I did, a hundred different answers racing through my mind as Justin stayed quiet. I would've blurted him to spit it out or something an asshole would do, but I bit my tongue to stop it. My impatience was wearing thin fast.

"I never really saw him again here. You know we both came here, but… apparently, some guy he used to hang with was here too and I guess Trevor owed him money. There was a whole fight about it outside. Dude's been gone for a month, Chloe," Justin turned to me, looking me dead in my eyes, "That guy beat the shit out of Trevor. In front of everybody."

I knew right away what that meant. Justin would've just said he was just transferred or was just in a hospital, but no.

Trevor was dead.

"Holy shit…" I breathed out.

"Yeah… It's weird, you know? We joked a lot, but I really thought I was going out first because I was the one doing the stupidest shit. It's weird walking around and he's like… not here."

"I bet…" I nodded, "I dunno what to say."

"Me neither. Nobody was letting me through to get to him, man! And the," Justin saw the guard watching him, turning to me again with angry whispering, "and the guards didn't do shit."

"Not surprised," I scoffed, "Police never does shit to help anyone unless you're privileged."

"Yeah, so… he probably remembered something, but we'll never know."

"Shit… Thanks anyway, though, Justin."

"Hey, if it wasn't for whatever happened, I would've had your back."

I nodded. He only means well. Those Vortex dumbasses… They know something. "I'll let you know what happens. I'm getting to the bottom of this."

I paced around in my room. Never thought I'd ever see this bitch clean, but everyone told me having a clean space makes you a happier person. Whatever, but maybe it was working.

Hurry the fuck up… I looked at my clock nearing five in the morning. As soon it was ten before, I left, nearly ripping my door off as I stomped through the hallway, shoving the bathroom door open.

Chase was standing in front of one of the mirrors, fixing her hair.

"Oh, well, if it isn't—"

I grabbed her by her neck, shoving her into the furthest wall. "You listen here, and you listen close, Chase!" For the first time, I never thought I'd see real fear in her eyes. "I don't know what the fuck happened with your stupid club, what the fuck happened to Dana, what the fuck you did to Amber's dad, what the fuck you did to Amber, but I need answers and I need them now!"

I squeezed tighter as an angry expression started showing on her face. She raised her leg and kicked me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I flew back, bending over and coughing hard.

Hold it together… That felt too familiar… This fucking bitch.

I felt myself faltering. My knees nearly gave out. My mind was going hazy. I was close to falling into panic attack or flashback… Fucking hell.

"Don't put your grubby hands on me ever again, bitch!" Chase dusted off her robe, releasing a disgusted grunt. "You hate me and now you want my attention?! Ugh, go to hell!"

I grabbed her again, forcing her into the wall, "You owe me a ton of fucking things, Chase! Where the fuck is Dana and what did you do to Amber?!"

Chase just smirked. It made my blood fucking boil. She sighed in a pleased, wicked way, "Dana just had to leave. She didn't need to tell you where she's going. She just needed to go. And of course you care about that little whore—"

I punched her cheek, feeling and hearing a crack against my knuckles, sending her flying to the tiled floor. She groaned, but then cackled, "You'll see, Price…"

I stared at her for a moment, letting her words sink in, before I rushed out the bathroom, huffing and trying to block her words out.

Shit! Fuck, what the fuck is happening?! I thought I started somewhere! Look where it led me! This?!

I slammed my down and jumped into bed, groaning. No class today. This fucking sucks…

A/N: Review and shit.