A/N Warning: Self-harm.

I'm allowed to go home, but I don't want to. It reminds me of James. My James. The dead one.

I'm home, but I have no desire to do anything. I don't want to live, but the entire world seems to be aginst me. I think I'll starve myself, and all the neighbors bring me pity food. Even my best friend, Marie pities me. I hate pity. I don't want pity. This is how it felt when my parents died. I felt nothing. I feel nothing.

Someone kill me.

Please.

I don't even want to leave my bed. My old neighbor, and childhood friend, Sam has been so worried that he even called an ambulance and doctor to give me an IV when I refused to eat. Sam's an ass. I never knew Sam had moved back. We had grown apart sometime in highschool, when his family moved to Nevada. Of course I was way behind in my studies so I was about four years behind in school. Even though I was about twenty-one, I was still in eleventh grade. Now after about five years of not seeing or hearing from him, he reappears on my door. And with a girlfriend no less!

Sam is standing at the foot of my bed now. "Ave," He mutters. "You need to eat,"

I say nothing. I will not talk to him.

"I will call my medic friend," Aww, Sam, your pathetic threats are adorable.

I shove the plate of food away, watching as it crashes onto the floor. Sam has learned by now to give me my food on plastic plates. The chicken's juices will stain the carpet, but I don't care. The food all over the floor means nothing to me.

Sam sighs, bending down to clean up the mess. I flop back down in my bed, the only place I've been in the house other than the bathroom. He leaves my room and I pick up bits of his conversation with his fiance, Mikaela.

"-e can't go on like this," Sam.

"-ve you tried everything?" Mikaela.

"-calling Ratchet," Sam really thinks he's being quiet.

My head throbs. My heart aches. Yet I don't cry. I don't grieve, I feel nothing.

I wonder vaguly what would've happened if I had died instead of James. Would he be doing the same thing I was? Wanting to die.

No. He wouldn't do that.

He was optimistic and cheerful.

I'm depressed.

Someone pokes my arm, drawing me from my musings. I look into the blue eyes of a doctor - or medic as Sam calls him.

"Avery you must eat," He says in a gruff, almost annoyed voice.

"..."

"Avery," He tries again.

"..."

"Has she been like this the entire time?" He asks Sam.

Sam nods.

"Well shit," Ratchet - I assume - mutters.

A tingling sensation runs through me, but I don't move. Ratchet, Sam, and Mikaela leave the room. I'm aware of not being aware. I slowly stand up, not bothering to stretch my aching limbs. Sure it took me three months to get discharged from the hospital, sure I wasn't responding, but I should be dead. I'm done caring.

I walk past the three people in the hall and enter the bathroom. I act like I'm taking a shower. I turn on the water for the shower but don't get in. I tear my shirt from my body and stare at my reflection. I'm skinny and pale. There were dark bags under my eyes. My hair is a mess, and I can't care less. I stare at the bandages I wrapped around my upper left arm. I have a bandage on my right arm too, although it's not as high. I reach under the counter, pulling open the cabinet as if I'm a robot. I've done this so many times that I can do it without thinking.

I pull out the small pocket knife from a bundle of towels. Stupid Sam took all my razors, my normal weapons. I wasn't going to let him stop me though. He took my kitchen knives and forks. He took anything that he thought I would use. Luckily he forgot about my pocket knife. I unwrapped the bandages, not even wincing at the amount of blood caked on them. I examine the wound on my upper left arm. I grab a rag, wetting it under a small amount of water. I roughly wipe off the blood on my arm, revealing the long, deep cut.

I narrowed my eyes at the lacaration. I can see a sliver of white at the end of it. My bone is showing again. I push the edges of the wound together, feeling the flash of pain as the action. I'm pretty sure it's infected, but I really don't care. I take my knife, and look at the scars on my wrists from about five years ago, when my brother and family died. The year I had met James. He had pulled me out of the way of a speeding car. I fell in love with him and never tried to kill myself again.

Until now.

He was the only person keeping me in this world, with him gone, I had nothing left.

I push the blade into the back of my wrist, feeling the point pierce my flesh. I pulled it out, watching the dot of red well up. I drew the blade over the back of my hand, creating an x. I do the same with my other hand, before cutting a deep gash in both my palms. I wrap my old wounds back in the bandages, the same ones I've been using since I've been home. A knock sounds on the door. I'm still holding the knife. I turn off the cold shower water, acting like I had never heard the knock.

My hair was wet from sticking my head in the shower so I dried it a bit before wrapping up my fresh cuts. I pull the wrappings tight enough that I can feel the pain whenever I move my hands. Good, I need pain. Pain is a good distraction. I stash the knife back in the cabinet, tucking it away in the towels and washrags. I frown at the bloody towel, then shrug and throw it into the basket. I wrap my hands, ignoring the pain.

I opoen the door, making a beeline for my room. Mikaela was waiting there for me.

"Are you going to eat?" She asks.

"No," I respond, shoving past her to my room.

Ratchet, the doctor is waiting in my doorway. "You need to eat," He says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Does that stop me?

Hell no!

"I'm not hungry," I say, using the only excuse I can think of.

I brush past him, wincing slightly when he grabs my wrist. "If you will not eat on your own will, then I will be forced to take desperate measures," He warns.

I wrench my wrist away from his grip, straining the wound on my bicep. I meet his strange blue eyes.

What does he think he's going to do? Stick a feeding tube into me?

Yes, he probably will.

I turn away, heading to my bed and waving my hand the the man. "I don't care,"

Ratchet is shocked - or at least I think he is. There is no other reaction from him but silence. I manage a small smirk.

I close my eyes, focusing on moving my hands, letting the blistering pain distract me from everything else.

I'll tell you this: Ratchet keeps his promises.

It's been a week since he threatened me. Of course he came back today and sat there until I ate an apple slice. It was all I could manage. I threw it up after he left. When Sam and Mikaela came to check on me I was coughing over the toilet. Great day I'm having.

Of course finding me over the toilet bowl made Ratchet come back.

Thanks Sam, you're such a jackass.

Now I'm running around my house trying to avoid a certain, very pissed doctor. I'm on one side of my kitchen island and he's on the other, shooting me a death glare and probably wondering how I'm able to stand. I'm shooting him an equally as deadly glare.

"Avery come over here." He orders.

Me, being the mature adult I am, I stick my tongue out at him. "Hell nah,"

"Avery, please listen to him," Sam begs from the couch.

"No," I say again. I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at Ratchet.

"Avery I'm losing my patience," Ratchet growls.

I smirk cheekily at him, being in a good mood from annoying the fuck out of him. "Suck it up,"

His eye twitches. He apparently decides that talking to me isn't working and races around the island in another attempt to capture me. I dance away from him, running to the other side of the kitchen, where it connects to the living room. Ratchet makes the unwise decision to follow me. I duck behind the couch in an attempt to hide. He actually climbs over the couch to get me. I laugh and back away from him.

My back hits the wall and Ratchet puts both his arms on the wall, boxing me in. He's so close to me that I can't duck under his arms. I choose the next best option at the time... my knee meets his man parts. The man doubles over and I bolt away.

"Sam help me," Ratchet groans. "Now!"

Sam is up in a flash, trying to grab me. I glare at him as I run to the bathroom, spin around and retrace my steps. I dodge past my old friend... only to collide with Ratchet. Sam grabs my arms from behind. I'm trapped. Ratchet's arms snake over my wounds. I hiss and twist, trying to escape. I know where he'll put me. He'll drop me into my bed and give me a checkup. I can't have a checkup, they'll learn that I'm sucidal.

I'm scooped up by the older man. My wrists are held in one of his hands. His grip is unrelenting, and putting pain on my unhealed wounds. His other arm is wrapped tightly around my waist, keeping me firmly in his grip. I kick my legs out, pushing aginst Sam, who is trying - and failing I might add - to grab my legs. Eventually Mikaela grabs my ankles. I dig my nails into Ratchet's hand. He hisses, but his grip stays. I know I'm leaving marks.

Do I care?

No, I don't.

Is he going to get revenge?

Probably.

I'm literally carried to my room. Ratchet dumps me unceremoniously onto my bed. I galre at him defiantly, my good mood dissipating in an instant. I decide that I can't stay in my bed. I pop up, standing on my bed. I'm taller that Ratchet and I don't care. I know who Ratchet is, but I don't give a damn about giant robot aliens. I want James, and only James.

"Avery lay down," Ratchet orders.

"Leave me alone," I retort, watching in silent anger as Sam closes the door.

"You need help. I'm not leaving until you get it," Stupid medic.

"I don't need no help!" I nearly yell.

By now, my wounds are burning with red-hot pain. I grit my teeth against it, refusing to scream. I grunt instead when Ratchet grabs my hand, trying to pull me down. He frowns when he feels the bandages around it. I'm grabbed from behind and I pull my hand away from Ratchet. I swing my arm around with so much force that I can feel the scab on my shoulder break. I yelp as my hand connects with Sam's hip as I fall.

My breathing is heavy and labored. I'm trembling, but I'm completely aware of everyone around me. One thought comes through my head.

I need to leave. They will discover that I hurt myself-

Ratchet gasps. "What is this?"

Of course he would unwrap the bandges. I yank my hand away. "Nothing," I hiss.

"It's something," Ratchet says.

Sam catches sight of my bloody hand and pales. "Avery, I thought you were over this," His expression looks hurt.

I glare at him. "I am!" I spit.

"Than why are you still doing it?"

That's it!

"I'm not!" I scream. "I'm remembering. Remembering hurts more inside! I need outside pain!" These stupid people don't understand. "So I'm not doing it," I growl. "If I was trying, it would be more obvious,"

I run for the window. Ratchet grabs my arm, but I yank myself away from him. I pick up my backpack that has been packed forever and I snatch up a rock that I had used as a paperweight. Sam is running after me, as is Ratchet, but I keep running.

"Avery stop!" Sam screams. "Don't do this!"

I don't waste my breath answering. I lob the rock at the window and it shatters. I gather my legs underneath me and leap through it, ignoring the glass that bites into my skin. My backpack is slung onto my back as I reach. I grasp the bar that extends from the roof. I swing onto the roof with the ease of an acrobat. The Hummer in the driveway shifts and moves, transforming into the true form of Ratchet.

I leap away from the roof, landing on my neighbors' roof. I roll down the pointed roof, grabbing the gutter at the last second before I swing into the tree that grows next to the roof. I clamber down it easily, my chest heaving. I wave to the woman, Mrs. Melissa, who smiles and waves back. I grab a hold of the lovely motor powered bicycle that she helped me create when I was younger. I begin pedaling away from the house, Sam, and Ratchet.

I'm being followed if the sirens behind me are anything to go by. I need to get away from Menomonie - and yeah I live in Wisconsin - so I can hide until Sam leaves again. He should've never come back. Sam thinks he's being a good friend.

Do good friends vanish off the face of the Earth for five years?

I don't think so.

I mean he could say he got caught up in an alien war for a few years and had to cut his contacts. But then again, Sam has never really been much of a rule breaker. I'm still not forgiving him.

The Hummer that is Ratchet comes closer, drawing beside me. The window rolls down, revealing human Ratchet. "Pull over," He growls.

I pedal past the red light, which he is forced to sit at. I smirk, my adrenaline flowing from the chase. I haven't had a good chase in a while. My legs are burning with the strain of pedaling this fast, but I grit my teeth and push faster. I give a cry of triumph and freedom. My freedom is short lived though as a yellow Camaro comes barreling down the street beside me. It's Sam's other alien friend, Bumblebee.

I swear and flick on the motor, pulling my feet from the pedals and placing them on the small footrests instead, which also happen to be the gas and brake pedals. I turn, flipping the car off before focusing on the road ahead instead. I pull back slightly, letting the Camaro slide up beside me. The human Bumblebee is in the window and I smile. He rolls down the window.

"Go back to Ratchet!" He shouts over his own engine.

I decide to just tick him off. "So how's your day been?" I ask languidly.

"Avery," He warns, electric-blue eyes flashing.

"Hmm," I hum. "I don't think you answered my question,"

"Go back before I drag you," Bee's engine roars in agitation.

I speed up slightly. "You won't be able to catch me," I point out like it's a fact.

I race off, leaving the shocked Camaro staring at where I had been. I whoop, the air rushing through my hair. I head down the main street of the city and towards someone I know will cover for me. My old girlfriend, Marie. I stash the bike around the back of her shop, covering it with whatever shit's out back so when they come looking, they wouldn't see it. I knock on the back door, three hard knocks, five soft knocks and one last sharp knock, our secret code that we need help.

The door opens, revealing Marie, with her gray eyes and auburn hair. Her face is dotted with freckles and a small scar on her chin. I gave her that scar the first time we met. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was covered in flour again. A sly smile graces her lips at the sight of my bloody hands and red face.

"At it again 'Vey?" She asks lightly.

Normally when anyonoe asks me this question I would get defensive. But my relationship with Marie is different. We dated when we were seventeen and broke up when I met James. We both liked the public display of being lesbian and rolled with it, when we were really just best friends. We shared kisses and had slept in the same bed when we wanted to. But she was only a sister to me and I to her. She was the first one to find out that I was sucidal, and at first tried to get me to stop.

I never listened to her and eventually screamed in her face the reason for inflicting pain on myself. She understood and let the situation go, knowing that I needed it. She was the only one I could trust with my secret. She had known Gabe, Jasmine, Isiah, and Kathrine on a personal level and they were as close as siblings too. She had just never understood the loneliness since she had a family that was there for her, even though they weren't close they were there.

I shrug, giving her a quick kiss to her cheek and entering the bakery. "Kinda," I grab a small slice of banana bread that she had just finished baking.

She laughs her deep rich laugh. "You and my banana bread,"

I frown, crumbs falling from my mouth. "It helps me cope," I mumble.

"I know hun," Her arm wraps around my waist. "I'm-"

"Don't finish that thought," I growl, swallowing the last of my bread and pulling away.

She smiles. "I was going to say I would get you a glass of milk,"

I sigh, letting a small smile through. "Love ya,"

Marie goes to get my milk and I go upstairs and flop onto the couch. I smile to myself, squeezing my wrist and pushing, opening the wound again. I flinch and then watch the blood well up. This red liquid that keeps me going, that runs through my veins, keeping me alive. I hate it.

Marie comes upstairs, making noise on the last step. She has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. She sets them down on the small table and sits next to me.

"I closed up, so they shouldn't know," she ssys.

"They'll know," I reply, sliding closer. "At least Sam will,"

"Sam's back?" She sounds surprised.

I snort, feeling her arm wrap around my hips. "Him and his new friends,"

Marie draws me onto her lap. "Which new friends? His girlfriend... or..."

I lean into her. "Both, Mikaela and the aliens that turn into cars,"

Sam has never told me about them, but I figured it out from the way they act in human form. They say strange things, and don't react to many jokes, quotes, or really any human slang or refrence. Honestly you'd think that giant robotic aliens could connect to the internet. Well they can, because how else would they learn English?

I've told Marie about them, the Autobots and the Decepticons, and ways to determine if one is a Con or Bot, like the optic color or looking for the insignia.

"So Sam called the medic?" Marie asks when the sound of sirens comes on.

I purse my lips. "Yup, Sam knows where you live so he probably told Ratchet,"

"That's his name," I confirm it with a nod.

"I need you to hide me, they found out," I whisper.

Marie's eyes widen. "How?"

I hold out my hands. "I wasn't quite so subtle this time," I admit.

She stares at my bandgaed hands and lets out a sigh. "Alright, stay here and find a hiding spot, I'll try to keep them downstairs,"

I kiss her. "You're the best,"

I race off, shoving my shoes under the bed and placing a spare pair behind the curtains. I bury my backpack in a mound of old, smelly clothes from the last owner of the house. I duck and roll under the large piano that has so much shit and dust that you can't see anything. I watch Marie prop open the closet and a drawer that I could fit under before going downstairs when a knock rattles the door. I pull a box into the small hole I slid into, leaving me blocked in with the dust and darkness.

I can't hear her voice, but I can tell she's acting like their customers and telling them that she's closed. I steady my breathing, wrapping my arm around me to clutch at my bicep. I try my best not to wince at the pain and instead continue to steady my breath. I can hear voices now, signaling that they're coming up the stairs.

"I know her Marie, she would come to you," Sam says.

"I haven't seen her since... well you know," Marie you're a life-saver.

The telltale creak of the last step tells me Bee is here too. It creaks four times. Well if I'm found I'm in a load of shit for sure.

"Go ahead and search, she was over yesterday setting up something," Marie says.

Ratchet grunts.

After a few minutes Sam shouts in dismay.

"What is it?" Bee asks.

"I thought she was here," Sam says.

Ok, they found the shoes under the curtain. Ratchet found the open doors and drawer, and Bee looked under the bed.

"No don't touch those. Those aren't mine, the owner was going to come by tomorrow afternoon and go through them. They're her's and she would hate it if someone was to mess something up," Marie says, so I assume someone was looking through the pile of clothes.

I hear the clink of a glass on the table so I assume that she's drinking the milk and eating the cookies. More cover-up, I love you Marie.

I hear heavy footsteps that don't belong to Sam. Bee seems more lighthearted and bouncy so it's not him. They come closer. I know they belong to Ratchet.

"Come out of there," So they have infered, good to know because I know for a fact that there's no way you can just see me.

I squeeze my shoulder harder, and I can feel the trickle of blood from the action. I don't care though. I know that he'll put me on sucide watch and make sure I'm not left aone. I say nothing, hoping that it's just a tactic to get me to run.

The box slides aside and I know it's not a tactic. "Come out." It's an order.

"No," I whisper, digging my nails through the bandage to get to the wound.

I claw at it, making the trickle of blood close to a river. Pain scorches through me and I wrap it up again. A warm hand grabs my ankle and I grab hold of the bottom of the piano as Ratchet begins to tug my from my hiding place. The dust makes my sneeze andlet go of the piano. I grab hold of the edge of something that I can't see in the dark. My hands burn as the cuts open and begin bleeding. The dust isn't helping, but it's stopping the blood flow. It hurts like a bitch, but I can live with it.

"Let go, you'll only injure yourself farther," Ratchet's voice is calm, like he's trying to soothe me.

Like hell he'll soothe me.

I scream, twisting out of his grasp, my instincts kicking in. Instincts that I thought I had forgotten. I spin around in the close confines of under the piano, until I'm facing Ratchet. I slither out between his legs, raising my foot at the last second it's under him to kick him. He yelps, clutching his man parts again, for the second time today. I feel sorry for him- no wait, I don't.

Bee grabs my arms, wrenching my shoulder painfully. I can feel the agony from straining my wound and I shriek, lashing out with my foot and wrapping it around his ankle. I knock his legs out from under him, crashing down on top of him. He's stunned and I use the oppertunity to slither away from Sam too. A slight movement to my left makes me turn, taking up a defensive stance. It's only Marie.

I watch her, but don't lower my fists. I'm scared into fighting instincts. Marie wraps her arm around my waist and pulls me into a half hug. Her lips meet mine and I melt, my heartbeat calming down and my mind easing. I haven't had a kiss like this from her in two years. It's gentle and passionate, but not invasive. She's doing it to help me, for my comfort, to calm me down. There's nothing lustful or sexual about it.

She breaks it. "Better?" she whispers into my ear.

I nod. Her arm is still around my waist, assuring me of her presance. I lean my head aginst her shoulder.

"You still need to come with me." Uggghh, right Ratchet. "I need to look at those wounds,"

"No," Both me and Marie say at the same time.

Ratchet looks pissed.

A/N Favorite and review for me please.

Ratchet* Don't think you can escape me femme!

DragonFan773* (gulps) Ratchet I know you're mad...

Ratchet* (produces a wrench) By pit I'm mad you keep making Avery hit my...mech parts.

Avery* (enters sees Ratchet turns back around)

Ratchet* Get back here! (races after her)

DragonFan773* I'm going to hide before Ratchet comes back. Please review it will make me not have Avery kick Ratchet's mech parts.

Ratchet* It better!

DragonFan773 Have a nice day.