Hello. No comment as to why I'm so late. I'm very busy. Uploads may not be too often. I apologize. I literally just got on spring break on Friday, so I really haven't had any time to do anything. I'll try to upload again while I'm on spring break.

Lately I have been contemplating this fanfiction. I have been rereading it lately, and a lot of it is very bad writing. I opened a lot of plot lines that I never followed up on or expanded on. I apologize for some of my terrible writing. After I finish, I may end up editing some of the chapters so I am not so ashamed of it. I don't know, just an idea.

Before we get started, I just want to tell you that the moment you have been waiting for has finally come. And no, it's not Fax. Well, not really. I guess you'll just have to wait and see. Or more likely, wait and read.

This chapter is my longest so far. I hope this makes up for everything.

Broken: Chapter 24

Broken Confusion

Max's POV

Last Time on Broken:

Iggy sighed again. "With Max's break-up, you're just sorta a constant reminder of how she actually liked you. Not Dylan. She's feeling all guilty." I scoffed. "I'm not lying. Max told me herself,"

I gave him a look as if to say, "What's the real truth."

"Okay, she didn't actually tell me that. But I could tell. I can sense these things."

I laughed at him full-heartedly, "Dude, are you sure your a guy. 'Cuz if you are, then you wouldn't be so ball-less."

The entire group didn't laugh or respond. "You may not realize it, but Max is head over heels about you. And you're head over heels about her too."

"So, um, what should we start on first?" I asked awkwardly. I sat just as awkwardly as I spoke; I was on the corner of my soft bed, sitting criss-cross-applesause. Fang, however, was the exact opposite. Fang spun around in my desk chair, trying to get the it to continue spinning without his help.

He looked up, "Oh, um, I'm super confused with this whole circle-tangent thing. Like, who the hell even needs this crap?"

I scoffed quietly, "If we didn't have geometry, we wouldn't be able to have any buildings or inventions, because how else would architects and engineers plan their ideas?"

He chuckled, "Of course you always have to prove me wrong." He spoke quietly, somewhat to himself. I vaguely nodded my head. I had barely heard what he said. "Max, you okay? What's wrong?"

What was wrong? Everything was wrong. I finally forgive Fang again, and he kisses me. Why did he do that? Did he like me or something?

I didn't understand why he would. Especially with all of that crap Anne said. Yes, she was drunk and high, but I've met many honest drunkies. Did Fang really think of me as some rich, snotty-ass brat that has everything she could ever want? No, he couldn't. He'd first-hand experienced Jeb's wrath and cruelty. Maybe not to the extend of what it may seem, but definitely saw how cold and lifeless he really was.

But, consider that Anne was lying. Did Fang actually like me? He couldn't. He'd tease me everyday. Make fun of me. How could that translate to him having feelings for me? It didn't make sense. Besides, he was only a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. He had to know that too.

He probably did know that anyways. He didn't even mention the kiss today at school. And he wasn't being all awkward like I was. He was just living life, like everyone was. I was the only one who was thinking about this. It was all in my head. No one else turned a blind eye. So what did that say about me? Why was I so hung up about this, even though no one else was? Did that mean that I liked him? No, I didn't. We were only friends. Only friends.

But why didn't he care. Did he not think I was a good kisser or anything? Was it not even special to him? Did that kiss literally mean nothing to him? Did I end an entire relationship because of nothing? Finally, I uttered, "It's nothing."

Fang scowled, "Really? What is it? Is it Dylan or something?"

I looked up at him, with a look of astonishment, "You know why we broke up, right?" He shook his head quietly, confused. "Fang, we broke up because I cheated on him. You kissed me. Don't you remember?"

Fang laughed, which was not exactly the reaction I thought I would receive, "Max, that was nothing." I cocked my eyebrows, egging him to continue, "Max, I was sick. My mind was twisted around. I had no idea what was going on. I barely even remember what happened. I didn't mean for you to end your relationship with Dylan. You can get back together with him." He grabbed his math book, "You know what, don't bother with him. He's a jackass anyways."

So that was the excuse he was using. I decided just to let him go along with that demented reasoning. I knew that wasn't really what happened. I laughed quietly, "No, I didn't really like Dylan that much. I used to like him a lot, but he was a bit of a jerk when he got back. I totally understand why you hated him so much." I said, coming closer to Fang in order to maintain a conversation. Though I didn't really like Dylan that much, the other part of my statement had been a lie. Dylan really wasn't a jerk; I knew that, and Fang knew that, but neither one of us were going to admit that.

"Nah, you're just trying to make me feel better for beating his ass up. I guess it was a bit unnecessary."

I sighed melodramatically, "Finally, you understand. I think I've finally tamed you." He laughed, but I cut him off with a series of coughs, "God, Walker, you better not have gotten me sick."

He tossed his dark black hair out of his face, "Sorry."

"If you did, you better return the favor. I expect a full foot massage when you look over me." I joked semi-seriously.

He chuckled again, "Okay, and then I'll ask you what you want to be when you grow up, and then say something totally cliché and cheesy, like, 'Nothing is impossible.'" There was my proof that Fang was lying. If Fang really didn't remember much from that night, he wouldn't remember 'Nothing is impossible.'

"Yeah, and then I'll make out with you, and blame the reasoning on the fact that I was sick." I said sarcastically. He scowled at me, but I simply smiled back.

That night was a hard beating. It was worse than most nights. It had begun when I woke up in the middle of the night in need of water. Jeb was drunk, wasting his life away on the couch in front of the television. I spilt a bit of water, and Jeb got mad, and ordered me to clean it up. He got up and slipped on it, and that was when the name-calling began.

He started easy, saying things like that I was incompetent, and that I was an asshole. I was used to it, so it wasn't hard to ignore. Then he got even more furious, because I was so unaffected. Then he started shoving me a bit, and called me things like a bitch and a slut. Again, I was used to it, so I barely even looked up. He got even worse, pushing and banging me against the wall roughly. This wasn't so easy to ignore, but I tried as hard as I could to stay apathetic. This angered him even more, slapping and punching began. Staying indifferent was then impossible. My groans and shrieks of pain were loud enough to give him so pleasure and pride.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg. I knew that the worse was coming when he began to unlace his belt, and whipped it at me, just out of reach of me, tauntingly. He chuckled, "This is for your own good." I tried to stop him, but I couldn't get away. I was helpless, defenseless, weak, and simply another punching bag for Jeb.

As it started to make contact with my body, my mind flashed to Fang. What was up with him today? He was mysteriously happy and carefree. He was always annoyed when working on math, but today he was joyful. Fang was never that happy, even when he was at school. Of course school is school so that was kind of an acceptable reason. But even when we are just hanging out, he's always more quiet. Today, he was energetic, which practically never happened.

His belt flicked back and forth as my skin became more bruised. The pain was indescribable. He only stopped when my screeches were becoming too loud and too disruptive. The neighbors' lights even flashed on around three. After his triumphant assault, it took me far to long to get up from the floor. I took about fifteen minutes just to get up off the ground.

Before I went back into my bed, I turned on my shower, letting the warm water burn its way into my open wounds and bruises. It took all that I had not to scream in pain, but it was a good kind of pain. It was a pain that would actually help the other injuries on my body. Once I finished washing away the painful contusion, I dried myself off and tried once again to go to bed, without luck. My thoughts were blocking me from a good night's sleep, and so that was how I ended my rough day. Bruised and battered relentlessly, whilst waiting to succumb to the escape of sleep.

I woke up the next morning to face another day at school. I couldn't be less excited; today we had a hard science final that I had been studying all term for. I started the day with a cup of coffee while going over key terms that our science teacher had suggested we know. Then, I got dressed into skinny jeans and a tank top that showed the logo of one of my favorite bands, The Killers. I wore vans with that and finished the outfit off with my signature high ponytail. My hair was so long that even though my hair was up, it still reached to my shoulder-blades. While I put a bit of foundation over some of my scars, I l studied for science once again. I was stressing very hard about this test, and I did not intend to fail it.

After dropping off my sister and finally arriving at my high-school, I walked into the hall to see Iggy and Fang standing by my locker, where they usually were since our lockers were so close to one another's. They were both clad in a black and green jersey, Fang's saying number 41 and Iggy's saying 35. They had a soccer game today, once again. So far, the varsity soccer team had been doing very well. Out of the seven games they had played, they only lost two. I had a good feeling that we could go into the championship game, but I kept that thought in my head. I didn't want to jinx the team's luck.

"Well hello there, Maxie-pad. How has your Friday morning been so far?" Iggy spoke cheerfully, though I sighed at the name. I hated when he called me that.

Fang mocked class, "How was your fine evening last night? Mine was quite splendid. I spend most of it studying for the final today. I hope I get over a sixty on it. That's my goal."

I scoffed, "You might want to aim higher on it. It'll count toward your final grade, which will go toward college transcripts next year."

Fang chuckled again, "You think I'm actually going to get into college. It's impossible. I have a Cs in most of my classes, except for geometry, thanks to yours truly. Colleges want A+ students who are social and have a future."

"Nothing is impossible," I muttered. Fang shot a glare at me, since we were trying to keep the entire sick incident on the down-low. "Anyways, so are you guys coming to my house tonight?"

Iggy shook his head reluctantly, "Nah, I got the soccer game and then I got to help Gazzy with his new project. It'll be a blast." He said, trying to make a pun, though failing miserably.

"I might be able to go, but only a bit later. Might be around eight or nine." I smiled at Fang. At least someone would be at my house so that I wouldn't be alone with the devil himself.

That night was the second day in a row in which Jeb decided I deserved to be punished. He was in a rage again, but I didn't think he seemed too drunk tonight. Though I can't stand it when Jeb is too drunk to function, because those are usually the harder beatings, I think it is worse when he is sober and he is beating me. It seems weird, but if you think about it, then it makes some sort of sense. When he's drunk, at least he has an excuse for being so angry and for his emotions being over the top. When he is drunk, it is easy to fall into the thought that he is only beating me because of the poisoning substance.

When he is sober, I know that he doesn't actuallycare. I know that even in his right state of mind, he still didn't think twice about my safety or about my health. That he hates me, with or without the alcohol. The drunken beatings hurt all the same, but sober beatings are different. Much different. I took it much more personally. Sober beatings may not cause as much bodily damage as drunken beatings, but it sure as hell hurt a whole lot more.

Nonetheless, Jeb still wasn't doing that bad of a job at beating me. I was still crumpled on the ground, out of breath. I had given up fighting a while ago. I knew that Jeb wouldn't stop until he felt fulfilled, no matter how hard I resisted him. He wouldn't stop, because he didn't know how.

Again, he started easily. Name-calling, and not much more. Jeb had more collective thoughts when he was sober. His insults were more complex and hurt more. I even caught tears rushing into my eyes after he blamed me, once again, for my mother's death. Then, he started pushing, shoving, and punching me, along with the countless affronts.

About halfway into the beating, I glanced at the clock and took track of the time. It was only 7:30 at night. Jeb usually didn't start his beatings until late. I wondered why he would be so mad now.

Then he started kicking me. Every kick hit with precision. I gasped for air, as his foot came to contact with my ribs. One. He kicked again, as I moaned in pain. Two. Again, the bastard kicked me, but the agony started to dim. This happened often when he hit me multiple times in a row. When he starts, everything seems in slow-motion, but after a few, I begin to become used to the constant torment. Three. Four. Five. Six. I think that I heard a snap, but all I felt was extra pressure on a layer of misery. Seven. By this time, my eyes were already closed, not being able to see his face while he continued with the beating.

His eighth kick was oddly strained. It started with full force, but before his foot collided with my skin, he was pulled back. I opened my eyes in a blur. Jeb, or who I thought was Jeb, was pinned up against the wall by some guy. Who had just broken into my house? Was he going to steal anything? Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe he would leave Jeb in such a bad state that he wouldn't be able to beat me anymore.

Jeb lay crumbled down in the corner. Who had done this? Who had discovered my secret? Who had saved my life? Who was my hero for the night?

"What the hell is going on here, Max?" A voice spoke in fury. I couldn't decipher whose voice it was, but it was familiar. I had heard it before. The strange man bent down to pick me up, and he started carrying me like one would carry a sleeping baby. My body laid limp in his hands. As he came closer, I noticed distinct facial features of the man. His skin was stained an olive color. Dark obsidian hair lay messily on his head, which matched his gloomy eyes. The eyes were so angry that it scared me, but interlaced with his rage was deep care. Suddenly, a name was placed with this intense man. Fang. "Goddamn, Max. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

Yep.

I'll leave you in you astonishment.

~Maximum Reading