So I'm doing a character change. I know I said Jordan would be played by Helen Hunt, but I've decided to make her younger. So if you want a visualization of her, it's Allison McAtee. The reason for this change in age is because I've decided that I want to delve deeper into Jordan's history as well and to do that I changed my entire characterization of her.

Jordan sat reviewing her notes from her previous session with Aubrey. The teenager was due in her office any minute and she wanted to catch up on what they'd discussed last session. She always viewed Aubrey as a special case because she'd learned a long while ago how fragile the girl was despite her desire to hide that fact about herself.

A light rapping at the door made her look up.

"Jordan, you have a call on line one." The secretary, Mrs. Jones said, and peeked her head into the door. Jordan thanked her, trying to figure out who could be calling her since she wasn't expecting any calls. Honestly, she didn't have any friends and she wasn't married, so with that being said, no one she knew could be calling her.

Putting the phone to her ear, she hit the button on the control pad to take the phone off hold.

"Jordan Ramsey speaking."

"Jordan?"

That voice…it definitely wasn't that of a stranger. Her eyes shot up to make sure Mrs. Jones wasn't still standing in her door before standing up to go and close her door. Mrs. Jones was a nice woman, but she was very judgmental of anything that wasn't holy, which left her in judgment of… everything. She slowly made her way to the desk and immediately closed her eyes as she took a deep inhale before exhaling the air.

"Jordan? Are you still there?"came through the receiver and caught her attention, dragging her from her attempts to calm down.

"Katlyn…"

"Hey, humming bird." Katlyn said affectionately. Jordan shook her head to herself, this couldn't be happening. She told her the last time they spoke that she wanted to cut all ties with her.

"You can't call me here. I'm at work!" she seethed into the phone, trying to keep her voice a little above a whisper lest she arouse the suspicion of Mrs. Jones.

"I—I know I shouldn't but you wouldn't answer my calls at home…I really miss you."

Jordan went silent after that. It was as if she could taste her response on her tongue and if she didn't have the restraint she'd spent years practicing, she would have uttered that she missed her, too. She praised herself that she managed to stop herself because she really needed to cut all ties with Katlyn. She'd failed in the past, but she was determined to not do it again. She couldn't keep telling the kids in her sessions that it's possible to change if she couldn't even make the change herself.

"I told you last time that I needed to end this…why won't you respect my wishes?"

"Because you said the same thing before. Although I have to give it to you, you did stay away for, what was it—Three months? But just like before Jordan, you came back…You always do."

"—I—I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jordan, please don't insult my intelligence. If you want to forget about the fact that you and I had sex in my apartment last week, that's fine. If you want to end this—whatever the hell it is, fine…but please stop stringing me along. I—I love you Jordan… I never stopped."

Jordan sighed audibly, placing a hand on her forehead to try and sooth the impending headache.

"It was a mistake. I—I don't know what you want me to say…"

"I want you to tell me the truth. No—tell yourself the truth. We were happy together. For God's sake you applied to Smith because I taught there. Then all of a sudden, you let your mother get in your head and break us apart when I know you love me as much as I love you."

"This is the truth—what I…what I thought I felt wasn't real and it was just my way of coping with losing my father. "

Katlyn laughed loudly into the receiver and it made Jordan cringe at the sound of being mocked by the other woman.

"You really believe that? That's rich—so you're straight now? Because the last time I checked, the things we did that night would say otherwise."

Jordan frowned deeply at Katlyn's words. She was making fun of her and she hated that. She could tell Katlyn was being mean as a coping mechanism but the Katlyn she knew wouldn't purposely say things like that to hurt her. Why couldn't she be mature about this whole thing?

"Yes I am Katlyn. I was always a heterosexual. I just allowed the tempestuous lifestyle of homosexuality to lead me astray but… but it won't happen again."

"…What was it you always told me in you private therapy sessions with me? 'To those looking for faults, even the straightest line appears to be curved.' "

As Jordan listened to Katlyn speak, she couldn't help but reach into her drawer and pull out the piece of paper with the quote on it. It had initially been sent by her as a part of an entire letter, which she threw away, but she couldn't find it in herself to throw away that part. Smiling sadly down at the small piece of paper she recollected telling Katlyn that no matter what her mother did to her, she was always going to be who she was.

"What happened to that girl? The girl who didn't care what anyone thought... The girl who loved me?"

The question settled between them and Jordan sat in silence trying to come up with a response.

"She grew up, Katlyn. I'm not an angry nineteen year old girl anymore. That girl realized that she was destroying her life."

Katlyn scoffed in anger although Jordan knew it was just an attempt to hide the sob she was trying to hold back,

"Well, if you truly believe that then I feel sorry for you. You let your mother control every aspect of your life since she returned when you were 18…I'm sorry that you let her change you and—and most of all I'm sorry for those kids who have to listen to that same bullshit I was paid to tell you, the crap that you are force feeding them so that they can get 'better'"

Jordan had enough; she slammed the receiver back down on the control pad. Her hands were shaking and she was sweating all of a sudden. She had no idea why or how Katlyn always got to her. She ran a shaky hand down her face as she tried to calm down. God that woman was infuriating. And how dare she make fun of her relapse, she—she just really didn't want to be alone that night. It would have been her dad's sixtieth birthday and the emotions just got to her. When she went over to Katlyn house, it wasn't ever her intention to sleep with her but it happened. She can't take it back but she can ensure it will never happen again.

"Jordan?"

She opened her eyes to see Aubrey standing at the door, unsure if she should come inside. She looked over at the clock and saw that it was in fact the time for Aubrey's session to begin.

"Yes, Aubrey, come take a seat." She said and directed the teenager to the seat in front of her desk. She put her memo pad back in front of her and fished around her desk blindly for the pen she'd been writing with before Katlyn called.

Aubrey sat down in the chair, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body.

"So, is there anything you want to begin the session with?"

Aubrey chewed on her lip nervously, "I—I didn't dream about Amanda last night."

Because I dreamed about the alt girl who held me all night.

Jordan looked up from her book, "That's great, Aubrey. I know how difficult it's been dealing with her death."

"I—I just…even though I hate having the nightmares, at least I get to see her…I don't have any pictures of her and the only memories I have of her are overshadowed by that day…"she trailed off with a sob caught in her throat.

She promised herself that she wouldn't cry today and not even five minutes into the session, she was crying. Instinctively, she reached down and pulled on her rubber band, releasing it quickly. At least the jolt of pain extinguished the sorrow. Nevertheless, her fingers still shook with the desire for a more superior relief.

Jordan reached over to where she kept her box of tissues and offered one to Aubrey, who accepted graciously.

"Let's talk about something else since talking about Amanda is upsetting you…" she looked down in her notepad at last week's notes.

"Last week we ended the session with discussion on your father. Do you want to pick up there?"

Aubrey dabbed at her eyes with the napkin and nodded her head weakly.

"Sure."

"Ok. You said that when he returned home from the war, everything at home changed. What change are you referring to?"

Aubrey chewed on her bottom lip again as her nerves resurfaced.

"I—I don't know. He was so much meaner after he came home. He would constantly berate my mother for everything she did and once she died, I became the target of his ridicule and besmirching."

"Do you think your relationship with your father influenced your relationship with Amanda?"

Aubrey looked up at her with an ambivalent expression. She popped her rubber band again, this time stretching it further.

"No, I don't…I-I always sought his approval—I still do—and I know he wouldn't have approved of her." She admitted sadly, once again pulling at her rubber band.

Jordan watched her fumble with the elastic band around her arm, refraining from asking a question. She put her pen to the side with a sigh and removed her glasses to place them on her desk.

"Aubrey, did you cut yourself today?"

Aubrey instinctively reached for her shirt sleeve, pulling it down past her hands. Her first instinct was to lie but when she looked up at Jordan, she knew she was caught.

"Y-Yes." She whispered, not looking up to make eye contact with the woman in front of her.

Jordan leaned closer, "How many times?"

"Only twice."

"You're improving." Jordan commends, if that were something to praise. She knew it wasn't, but since meeting Aubrey last summer, she knew the girl was on the edge and saying the wrong thing would push her over the edge. Jordan prided herself on the fact that since she started working at the institute the number of suicides at the camp decreased to zero.

"Does your father know about your self-harm?"

"No…my—my father would just consider it another flaw in my character."

"Then why do you do it?"

"because—because I have no control in my life…I couldn't stop Amanda from dying and I can't stop the way I feel, but I can control my pain…It's mine and no one else's." she sobbed. She reached up and wiped at her eye with back of hand. "They can take away my happiness and laughter…they can snatch Amanda out of my life but my pain—it' mine…and no one else's."

"Aubrey, why are you still punishing yourself?"

"Because I should have gone with her." The two grew quiet after that. Aubrey continued to sob, this time allowing her head to fall into her hands as tears pooled in her hands. It hurt so much to think about…everything…but if she twisted her wrists just right, she could feel the fresh scars from this morning reopen. It brought her some relief, but it was never like the real thing. Her heart still hurt.

"Aubrey—do you ever think… about going with her?"

Aubrey looked up through red eyes before dropping her head again,

"Suicide is a sin." She mumbled.

"Is that the only thing keeping you from killing yourself?"

Aubrey looked up this time, reaching out to grab a tissue in an effort to compose herself,

"Yes…"

Aubrey made her way back to her dorm after the very draining session she had with Jordan. All of the sessions were draining but this—this was the worst. It was like Jordan knew every sensitive subject for her and chose to expose them all in that one hour.

Don't get her wrong, she really appreciated all that Jordan was doing for her and without her she doubted she would have survived after Amanda's death last summer if it weren't for Jordan, but sometimes she left her feeling so vulnerable. If there was one thing Aubrey hated, it was her own vulnerability.

Aubrey walked over to her bed and took a seat. She had to admit she was fidgeting and wished desperately for her journal. She could put on those pages the things she was too afraid to tell Jordan. Lucky for her, she did keep paper in her drawer to write to her father. With that being said, she had an entire stack of unused paper. It didn't come with the privacy of a journal but at least it would serve as the catharsis she sought. She could always burn it afterwards.

With a sigh, she reached over to her side table drawer and pulled it open in search of the paper. However, instead of the paper being the first thing to catch her eye, her eyes landed on a red journal. The same red journal she saw tucked under Mrs. Westmore arm as she exited this exact room the other day. Reaching into the drawer slowly, Aubrey lightly touched the book, afraid it wasn't real. How could it have gotten there if she didn't put it there? There was no way Westmore gave it back and it wasn't like she had any friends to do something like that. Besides, no one knew Mrs. Westmore confiscated her book except—Beca.

Beca got her book back for her? Why would she do something like that? Aubrey was almost certain that the alt-girl didn't like her. Yeah, she did rescue her from hydrotherapy and yeah she did lie in bed with her for hours until she warmed up. And ok, maybe she did stay in her bed holding her when her nightmares started but that didn't mean that Beca liked her or even considered her a friend.

God, this girl wasn't making it any easier on her. She was trying to recover and so far it has been easy since the only girl she's ever felt this type of attraction to, died, but Beca—she wasn't supposed to be here making her feel like this.

Lying down on her stomach, she opened the book to the next empty page and began writing.

Beca stomped away from Jordan's office angrily. It was becoming a common occurrence that she left her office angry and pissed off. It wasn't her fault either since Jordan did a wonderful job of asking the absolute wrong question. She recalled telling her long ago that she didn't want to talk about Liam or her father, but of course Jordan decided to talk about both of them.

When she got to her room she nearly stormed in. However, she stopped herself to calm down because she didn't want Aubrey to see her so agitated in case she wanted to talk about last night. She still didn't like the blonde but after last night, after holding her in her arms as she trembled and cried, she couldn't help but look at her in a different light—one that wasn't so judgmental of the way Aubrey was because it was obvious she wasn't that way by choice. After managing to bring her anger from a level nine to a maybe a five, she opened the door.

Aubrey laid on her bed, writing in her journal and that made Beca a little happy, reassuring her that she'd done the right thing by returning it to her. She walked over to her bed, slanting her eyes in confusion at the white bandage on Aubrey's arm that she was pretty sure wasn't there the night before. She wanted to question it but decided against it and instead opted to ask,

"Do therapy sessions always suck that much?"

Aubrey turned her head slightly at Beca's question. She, at first, wanted to pretend she hadn't heard the question but then she remembered that Beca had risked being punished to retrieve her journal for her. She had to at least offer some semblance of gratitude.

"They're meant to help you—to help find the root of your problem so that you can get better."

Beca flopped down on her bed, "Well I have a secret for you Aubrey, I'm not sick."

Both girls grew quiet after this, the only sound coming from Beca's radio. Aubrey continued to write and Beca threw a mesh ball into the air, catching it as she hummed along with the radio. When the song changed, Beca reached over and turned the volume up slightly. "Come to my Window" by Marissa Ethers filled the quiet room.

The sound of Beca' voice caught Aubrey's attention almost immediately, although she tried not to show it. The last thing she needed was for the alt-girl to think she cared for her. But, her voice—it was good, very good in fact.

"You have a nice voice." She whispered, not meaning for it to pass the barrier from her mind to her voice.

Aubrey's hand shot to her mouth in shock. Where did that come from? What is happening to her where she can't even control her thought and words? Her eyes fearfully met Beca's only to be met with a cocky smirk. Beca didn't say anything; she just smiled at her, before turning her attention back to the ceiling to continue throwing the ball in the air.

"Do you know what's scheduled for today?" she asked, sensing the tension and uncomfortableness coming from her roommate.

Aubrey stopped beating herself up over the comment she made to Beca long enough to answer,

"Cooking."

"Good afternoon, Ladies." Mrs. Westmore announced to the group of girls.

Beca rolled her eyes and looked over to where Paulie and Jane stood at the next table. Paulie stuck her tongue out at Beca and Beca flipped her off playfully before being instructed by a counselor to pay attention.

"Today will be working on the fine art of cooking. The reason for this is that immersing you in a traditional female gender role setting stimulates an appreciation of your own femininity. Each of you will work with your roommates today and your task is to follow the recipe given to you to prepare the meal. The winning team's meal will be served at tomorrow's dinner and as a reward, the winning girls will earn an extra piece of desert at tonight's dinner as well."

Beca rolled her eyes at the sound of Westmore instructing them to begin. She picked up the piece of paper with the recipe on it and sighed. They had to make a casserole.

"Sorry, Bree, but I can't cook for shit. Looks like we aren't winning that desert." Beca said dejectedly.

Aubrey tensed immediately, "What did you call me?"

Beca turned towards her roommate, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"What? 'Bree?' I don't know, I just said it without really giving it any thought."

Aubrey looked at Beca in fear, whispering slowly, "Why?"

"It's just a nickname, no ned to get all bent out of shape." She responded, chuckling lightly as she placed all of the things they would need on the table.

Seeing that Aubrey was still frozen where she stood, she sighed and placed the eggs on the counter in front of her before she turned to look at the blonde.

"What's wrong with you? Haven't you had a nickname before?"

"No." she said succinctly. She immediately swallowed the sob forming in her throat, trying to desperately compose herself. "Why would you give me a nickname, it's not like I've been the nicest to you and we aren't friends."

Beca smirked again—that smirk it did something to her—and leaned in, "Well, I have seen you naked."

Aubrey nearly dropped the pan she was holding. She tried desperately to hide the blush she knew was forming but she knew she failed if the smirk that remained on Beca's was any indication.

Wanting to change the subject immediately, she snatched the recipe from Beca's hand. Their task was to make Broccoli Chicken Divan, and after reading over the instructions, Aubrey figured it couldn't be too difficult. After her mother died, she took over the role of cooking in her household. With little room for imperfection in her father's mind, she gained the skill and quickly.

While she boiled the broccoli, she instructed Beca to grate the cheese. It was a simple task, but a task that needed to be complete nonetheless.

"When I was little I always wanted to help my mother with the cooking and I did, but one time I accidently burned the pasta…"

Aubrey looked up when Beca trailed off. The brunette stared off into the distance as if reliving the memory as her hands blindly grated the cheese.

"She had this look—like she was terrified. I didn't see the big deal at the time and she just sent me to my room so that she could try and salvage what was left of it. When Liam came home, he—he hit her because the dinner wasn't ready."

"Oh, Beca, you can't possibly think that's your fault."

Beca looked back at her with a frown, "But it was, wasn't it? I—I burnt the food and yet, she was the one paying for it…I never asked to help again."

Aubrey continued to stare at Beca even after she had turned away from her leaving only her profile for Aubrey to watch. She could tell that Beca was clenching her jaw in anger. She wanted desperately to reach out and touch the hand that was angrily gripping the cheese grater until her knuckles turned white. The two continued to cook in silence, a calmness settling between them in contrast to the other groups around them arguing over their assignment.

45 minutes later, Beca looked at Aubrey in surprise as the blonde pulled the casserole out of the oven.

"That—that looks just like the picture." Beca praised. Aubrey shrugged off the compliment, never knowing how to receive them. She had spent years arming herself against insults—but compliments…she couldn't handle them.

"It doesn't matter if it looks nice if it doesn't taste any good." She returned.

Beca waved a hand at her, "Well then let's try it." And before Aubrey could respond, Aubrey reached for a fork to take a piece of the casserole.

She eagerly tasted the casserole and smiled at Aubrey who waited nervously in anticipation for her critique. Why was Beca's opinion of her all of a sudden so damn important? She felt like a little kid.

"This is awesome." She lauded before turning around to scoop out another bite, this time offering it to Aubrey.

"No, I can't." she said, pushing away Beca's hands.

"C'mon, Bree. I insist." She pushed, bringing the fork up to Aubrey's mouth.

Aubrey looked at her nervously before acquiescing and parting her lips. She had to admit, it was good but that was what it was supposed to be anyway. There was no accomplishment in doing something right. She learned that lesson along while ago after years of winning and never receiving any semblance of praise from her father.

Beca smiled at her as she finished chewing the food in her mouth and Aubrey found herself smiling back softly.

"Here, you have a little something—"Beca said, boldly reaching out to wipe at the bit of food that Aubrey was unaware rested on the side of her lip.

Both girls stared at each other, the spark of Beca's actions compelling them to keep eye contact. It was an innocent action on Beca's part, but the feel—the softness of Aubrey's lips under her touch—it…aroused her? That was definitely not supposed to happen.

She turned away at the sound of Mrs. Westmore announcing that time was up and that the counselors were coming around to collect the dishes. Both girls sighed with relief at the distraction.

Aubrey took this as her opportunity to put distance between herself and stepped away from Beca to watch as the judges conferred with one another over the various dishes.

"Ladies—Ladies, settle down. The counselors have come to a decision." She looked at one of the male counselors who nodded and handed her the score sheet of the winning team.

"… and they have decided that—Rebecca and Aubrey have prepared the best dish."

Beca rolled her eyes, "It's Beca!" She yelled before her eyes widened when she realized why her name was being called. She turned towards Aubrey in shock and whispered, "We won?"

Aubrey returned the look, just as surprised as Beca and nodded her head slowly, "I guess so." She responded at the sounds of everyone in the room clapping in congratulations. Although, she knew they were more for Beca than for her. No one liked her, no one was happy for her.

"Who knew Beca was a good ole southern Belle under those tattoos." Paulie mocked causing everyone to laugh. Beca looked over at her and flipped her off to which Paulie stuck her tongue out.

Mrs. Westmore congratulated the two, although her disdain for Beca was evident. Beca ignored it and turned towards Aubrey. Both girls smiled at each other, before going to clean up their work stations before dinner.

"You know this win is all yours?" Beca said as they put away the last of the ingredients they used.

Aubrey shook her head in disagreement as the two made their way out of the building and over to the dining hall, "My father always said if you plan to do something, plan to do it right. If you plan to be someone, plan to be the best. And if you don't succeed, pack your bags."

Beca opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. Was there really anything she could say to make her feel better anyway?

When they arrived at the dining hall, Beca reached out to open the door allowing Aubrey to enter first before she followed.

The two got their food and were told by the cook that their extra dessert for winning would be brought to them in a few.

"Aubrey, I—I saw some of the poetry you wrote in your book." She said, immediately following it up with, "But it was an accident." She didn't want Aubrey to get the wrong idea that she was snooping through her things (although she had).

Aubrey smiled softly at her as they made their way over to a table.

"I—it's just a hobby… a way to relieve some stress, I suppose."

"Well, from the few lines I read, it was really good. Have you ever thought about publishing some of your work?"

"No—it's just silly scribbles in a book. I—" she paused when she noticed that Beca had begun to slow down. She could see that Beca was looking over at the table of people she normally sat with and she tried to force a smile,

"It's ok. I don't mind eating alone." She said trying to hide her disappointment. She should be used to it by now after all. She sat by herself all though high school, this wasn't any different.

Beca looked at Aubrey with clear ambivalence before glancing over at the table she normally sat at. Benji smiled at her and Paulie and Jane raised their eyebrows in question of why she was with Aubrey. She turned back to Aubrey who had already made her way over to an empty table. Figuring that Aubrey probably wouldn't want her to sit next to her anyway, she took a seat next to Paulie and began eating her spaghetti.

"And then Jane is all like, 'I'm Italian'. Like being Italian automatically makes you a great cook." Paulie explained. Beca laughed at the blonde when Jane threw a piece of garlic bread at her. However, she found herself sneaking glances at Aubrey who sat alone.

She suddenly felt bad that she left her. Everyone at the table wouldn't miss her if she sat with Aubrey this one day, besides they all had each other to keep them entertained while Aubrey had no one. While she debated internally with herself she couldn't figure out why they ambivalence was there in the first place. She didn't like the blonde, she was bossy and prudish and—hell who was she kidding, she did like her. She really liked being around Aubrey, even when the blonde was completely ignoring her, which seemed like always. But earlier that day, when they were in their room in complete silence, the only thing between them was the music coming from her radio; she had never felt closer to the blonde.

Standing, she grabbed her tray.

"Wassup, Beca?" Paulie asked as she watched Beca pick up her tray.

"I'll see you guys later." She answered simply before making her way over to the table occupied by the blonde.

"You think they're together?" Paulie asked the table quietly drawing everyone's attention away from the two at the other table. Jane threw another piece of garlic bread at Paulie,

"Shut up."

"You didn't have to sit with me. I'm ok by myself." Aubrey said bitterly. The last thing she needed was anyone's pity.

Beca shrugged, "I'm not sitting here out of pity. I—I like talking to you." She stated simply.

Aubrey placed her fork on the side of her plate. She eyed the brunette skeptically, "But why?" she motioned over to the other table, "I'm sure they're more interesting to talk to than I am."

Beca smirked at her, "Well I don't think so. Yeah they're a great group of people but I can't talk about the stuff we talk about with them, like poetry and stuff."

Aubrey sighed in frustration, "Why are you doing this, Beca? Why are you trying to be my friend?"

Beca rolled her eyes in annoyance before dropping her fork.

"Because I think you've got a bad rap. People treat you like crap without even knowing the slightest thing about you. Like your poetry, it's amazing, Aubrey, and no matter how much you try to down play it, you're really talented."

Aubrey stared at Beca, taking in everything she said, wanting to desperately believe her. No one had ever said anything like that to her except Amanda.

"I—I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. Just let me be you're friend." Beca pleaded, staring into green eyes. Aubrey nodded slowly after some time.

"Ok but—I—I don't know how to be a friend."

Beca shrugged and leaned in closer, "Well neither do I, so we can be bad at this together." This elicited a giggle from the blonde, which Beca found to be quite adorable.

"I have an idea, let's play 20 questions." Beca said and picked up her fork to resume eating.

"Why?"

Beca shrugged, "I don't know. Chloe and I did it in second grade and afterwards she said we were friends since we knew everything about each other."

Aubrey looked at her and smiled, she was so adorable. No, stop it Aubrey. Control yourself! She reached down and secretly popped the rubber band around her arm. It slammed into the healing cuts on her arm, doubling the pain she felt. Beca, distracted by the food on her plate didn't notice the girl visibly flinch in front of her.

"So first question. What's your favorite color and why?"

Aubrey bit her lip as she thought about the question. "Yellow. It was my mother's favorite color. You?"

"Black I read in science class that black is devoid of all light. I think it's a great description of my life…Favorite song?"

Aubrey opened her mouth to answer but hesitated. She wasn't sure if she should divulge this bit of information. However, seeing Beca's expectant gaze, spaghetti sauce on her chin, she couldn't help but smile at the alt girl and once again she popped her rubber band.

"Son of a Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield."

Beca's eyes widened, "Really? I would have never guessed. You don't strike me as a Dusty Springfield fan."

Aubrey gasped feigning offense from Beca's comment. "Well what type of music do I look like I'm a fan of?"

"Oh I don't know, Paula Abdul?" then with an accusatory finger point she covered her mouth in fake shock, "No you're probably an Ace of Base fan. Do you see the sign, Bree?" Beca joked, dodging the piece of bread being launched at her.

"Screw you Beca. Ace of Base is a very talented band. Anyway, what's your favorite band, huh? Metal-Ka? Aeroplane?"

Beca's face sobered immediately, "Aeroplane? Metal-Ka? Do you mean Metallica and Aerosmith? God, Aubrey, did you live under a rock?" she asked laughing at the blush creeping up on Aubrey's face.

"Hey, don't laugh at me. My dad doesn't let me listen to any of those bands." She said defensively.

Beca stopped laughing, "I'm not laughing at you Aubrey. I think it's cute that you don't know anything about real music." She responded.

She knew she was baiting the blonde, but it was amusing picking fun at her.

"I do know real music. I'll have you know I own every album of the Doors and the Rolling Stones."

Beca pushed her plate aside, suddenly intrigued by this new bit of information.

"You listen to The Doors?"

"I sure do. Ask me anything and I bet I know the answer." Aubrey stated proudly.

They were Amanda's favorite bands and they listened to them all the time when they were together. When—when Amanda passed, all of her things including her record collection Aubrey took since she knew Amanda didn't want her father to have them knowing he would just sell them.

"Ok. What was the inspiration for their name?" Beca asked. It was a simple question that even the occasional listener would be able to answer.

"The book, Doors of Perception." Aubrey answered immediately.

She met Amanda in the school library when the older girl was searching for that exact book. It was the first thing she said to her, that she was only reading it because of Jim Morrison.

"What was their first single?"

"Light my Fire." Amanda sung that to her on her sixteenth birthday. The first time they kissed.

"What did Jim Morrison do to get banned from the Ed Sullivan show?"

"He refused to change the lyrics of Light my Fire."

Beca sat back in her chair. Ok, here's the serious question. If Aubrey got the answer to this, she would definitely be impressed.

"Their Live in Hollywood was recorded at what venue?"

Aubrey hesitated. She knew the answer. Amanda would always promise her that when her poetry made her famous she would take her to Hollywood and they would visit where she deemed the Doors made history. 'I'm going to marry you right there.'

"The Aquarius Theater." She whispered.

"Wow…you really are a fan. If I had any sense I'd marry you on that fact alone." Beca said jokingly. Aubrey forced a light chuckle before returning to her food.

"Rebecca, Aubrey. Mrs. Westmore informed me that you two won the cooking competition earlier today." The head chef, Mrs. Landry said. Both girls looked up to where the larger woman towered over them.

In her hands were 4 pieces of cake, two for each of them. Beca could see the others in the cafeteria watching them, some with smiles and others with frowns of envy.

"Congrats girls." Mrs. Landry said and walked away, leaving them to eat.

"Beca, remember sharing is caring!" Paulie called out across the room. Beca looked at her with a wide grin and animatedly took the first bite of her cake.

"I can't. I'm too selfish for that." She responded only to be interrupted by the sudden presence of someone standing by Aubrey.

She looked up and saw one of the other campers, Jason, standing with a scowl on his face.

"Why do you get extra cake?"

Beca dropped her fork and looked at Aubrey to ask if she knew him. She noticed that the blonde looked a scary shade of green as if she were going to vomit.

"Dude, what's your problem?" she asked.

He looked down at Beca "This has nothing to do with you."

He turned back to Aubrey and placed a hand on her shoulder. Beca could see her flinch under his touch and she stood up, walking around the table to where Jason stood.

"It has everything to do with me. So like I said, what's your problem?" she yelled, pushing his hand away from Aubrey.

"Why does she get an extra slice of cake? It's not like that brown-noser Posen will even keep it down anyway. The bitch vomits like a newborn." he said, laughing in an attempt to get Beca to laugh with him.

"Dude, why do you even care? It has nothing to do with you." she said, tightening her fists at her sides.

By now they had caught the attention of everyone in the dining hall including the counselors who were waiting to see where the argument went.

"Beca, just drop it." Aubrey whispered. The last thing she needed was Mrs. Westmore to arrive and throw them all in isolation. She could not be sent there.

"No, I'm not dropping it." Beca argued angrily before turning back to the guy.

"Why don't you go back to your table before I'm make you leave?"

"Who the hell are you, anyway? Her bodyguard? Are you a narc like her? You kiss Westmore's ass too?" He looked at her in anger.

"Besides, that bitch ratted out Amber last year." He said and pushing her roughly. He turned to Aubrey,

"She went to ECT because of you…she never recovered!"

Beca fell backwards, hitting her head on the side of the table. She was a bit disorientated and didn't stand immediately. She wished she had though because while she was down Jason took the cake in front of Aubrey and pushed it into her face before he grabbed her glass of water off the table and poured it on her head. The blonde cried out and slowly wiped the cake from her eyes.

Anger flashed through her body at this and she quickly stood up, launching herself at him, her hand crashing into his nose.

The dining hall erupted at that as the guy fell to the ground clutching his bleeding nose. Beca clutched her hand, a slight stinging that was pacified by a callus built from years of defending herself back home.

Paulie jumped up and ran over to the group instigating the situation causing everyone to start chanting, "Fight! Fight!" Beca held her hand, wiping Jason's blood from her knuckles. She walked over to Aubrey and took off the shirt she was wearing, leaving her in just a tank top. She wiped away some of the frosting from Aubrey's face.

"It's ok Beca. It'll be alright."

One of the counselors walked over to Beca, taking one of her arms.

"Get the fuck off me!" she yelled, shrugging out of the grasp of the counselor trying to pull her from the table.

"Are you ok, Bree?" she repeated, wiping away more of the frosting and the milk still dripping from her hair onto her face.

"It's ok, Beca, really. He was right, I deserved this." She whispered sadly. Beca opened her mouth to protest but she was pulled from the table by two other counselors who had been called to the dining room. She looked over and saw that Jason's nose was being attended to by an orderly.

"What about that fucker? Look what he did to her!" she yelled.

The counselor told her to calm down and that he would face a punishment for his actions as well. Beca glanced at Aubrey once again who was using the shirt she gave her to wipe at the remaining frosting on her face. She looked so humiliated and yet others were pointing and laughing at her. The scene only angered her more since the counselors were helping that bastard with his nose but yet no one was helping Aubrey. This was complete bullshit and the moment she got out of wherever they were taking her, she was going to do more that break that fucker's nose.

"Can I have your cake then?" Paulie called but Beca didn't turn around as she was escorted out the dining hall.

The moment the door to the room closed, Beca was encased in darkness save for a small window in the back of the cramped room, but even then, that light would fade soon since evening was fast approaching. It was no bigger than a closet giving her enough room to sit if she sat with her knees to her chest but it was still small and dank. With a loud huff, she took a seat on the floor and brought her knees to her chest.

She yawned and adjusted her legs on the hard floor to try and get more comfortable position. She scooted back to the wall and allowed her head to rest on her knees. It wasn't comfortable but it would have to do for the time being.

Her eyes had adjusted just enough to the pending darkness to be able to see the outline of the door and her legs. Was this worse than not being able to see at all? By being able to see a little it only reminded her that the light was gone. At least if it were pitch-black she could at least pretend her eyes were shut and she was sleeping or dreaming.

"Oh boy." She murmured with a sigh.

She lowered her feet and stretched them out in front of her to try and maintain a comfortable position. However, it only lasted a few seconds before she shuffled around again, and rested her head against the back wall, resisting the urge to knock her head against it repeatedly.

It wasn't even about not being able to fit in the room or being comfortable enough to sleep, she was still edgy and frustrated at that Jason kid. Where did he get off saying those things about Aubrey? He was a bully…a bully just like Liam, picking on those who couldn't (wouldn't?) defend themselves.

However, despite having ended up in here, she didn't regret punching him. He deserved it anyway. She could almost guarantee he would think twice about saying something about her ever again. Readjusting once more in the cramped closet, she focused on calming down and trying to control her anger. Breathe in…breath out…maybe if she just…closed her eyes.

"Mom?" Beca called out meekly from where she sat at the kitchen table. Jennifer looked over at her 8 year old daughter and tried to force a smile for her sake.

"It's Ok Beca…just finish your homework." She whispered before her attention was recaptured by Liam who used his hand to take hold of her face, fingers on each cheek holding it in a vice grip.

"Didn't I warn you last time? I want my dinner waiting for me when I get home!" he screamed. Beca dropped her pencil and stood in shock, watching as her mother coward in fear. Liam reached out and grabbed a handful of the uncooked tomato sauce and smeared it into Jennifer's face. The older woman shrieked and tried to push Liam off her. She ran over to the two and tried to pull him off of her mother but he simply pushed her away causing her to fall backwards.

She sat up from where she'd fallen on the floor, frozen. She was forced to watch as Liam raised his hand to quickly strike her mother across her face. She wanted to help her mother, who was trying her hardest not to cry for her sake, but she was only a little girl, she couldn't stop him. Why couldn't she stop him? Get up Beca, move and help her!

She continued to watch as Liam beat and degraded her mother, the memories forever burning themselves into her memory.

Time dragged on and Beca stood frozen waiting for Liam to leave and when he finally did, he retired to the living room. Bumping into Beca as he passed Beca was dragged out of her reverie and immediately dropped to her knees, crawling over to where her mother was bawled up in the corner sobbing silently to herself. Despite the fact that she hid her face in her hands, Beca knew from her mother's body language that she was crying.

"Momma, are you ok?"

She said reaching up to the counter to grab the drying towel her mother used for the dishes... She slowly wiped at the tomato sauce on her mother's face and Jennifer allowed her to, in too much pain to do it herself.

"It's Ok, Beca, really. Liam was right…I should have finished his dinner on time…I deserved this." She whispered, reaching out to take the towel from her daughter.

"No you don't! No one deserves this…and when I'm big enough, he won't ever hurt you again…I won't let him."

"Rebecca, wake up!"

It took a moment for Beca to wake up and register what was happening. She looked up at the window and saw that it was still dark outside although the approaching sunrise brought an orange tint to the sky. Standing up, she stretched her arms, groaning at the pain of being in the awkward position for so long.

"How long was I in here?" she asked the counselor who looked less than pleased to be up at such an early hour to release her.

"Twelve hours. Next time, it'll be twenty-four." He warned, stepping aside to allow her to exit the room.

Beca yawned again and walked past the counselor to make her way back to her room. When she arrived at her room, she quickly undressed and made her way to her bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep in an actual bed. She knew she had to be up in less than 5 hours so she wasted no time getting to bed.

Aubrey lay in her bed, awoken by the shuffling on the other side of the room. She turned around quietly and watched as Beca peeled off her clothes, not bothering to but on pajamas as she climbed into her bed in just her underwear.

"Beca?"

Beca turned over and looked at Aubrey, whose face she could barely make out in the dark room.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, you didn't. I—I couldn't sleep."

Beca looked over at her, concern immediately plaguing her.

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked apprehensively.

"N—no it wasn't a nightmare."

Beca frowned deeply. "Was it because of what that loser said?"

"No—I just…why did you punch him?"

Beca sighed and turned to look from where she was staring at the ceiling.

"Because, whether you're my friend or not, no one is going to talk shit about you." She declared firmly.

Aubrey looked at her speechless. After a few minutes of looking at the silhouette of Beca in the dark room, she turned back over to face the wall.

Both girls closed their eyes to go back to sleep and Aubrey took a deep breath before whispering loud enough so that Beca could hear,

"Amanda committed suicide."

Sorry this took so long. It was finished a long time ago but I didn't edit it until tonight so I'm sorry for the long wait. What did you guys think of Jordan? I'm trying to develop the central characters of this story which also includes Jordan who is a unique experience in this dynamic as well. Let me know what you think of this addition and whether it's a good idea. If you think so, I definitely have more plans for her and Katlyn and that subplot.

Also, I just saw Frozen for the first time. Like really, this movie is awesome. Why have I waited so long to see this wonderful film? Well I didn't see Pitch perfect until like 7 months after it came out. Like OMG. And then to add to it, Ellen Page comes out! Like seriously, this weekend is like awesomeness. Leave a review about Ellen Page, Frozen or this chapter (this is preferable, but whatever). All is appreciated.