Hey, guys! I'm finally back. So, I know I'm technically a week late, but that's because this is actually the longest chapter I have to date. It's a bunch of fluff, basically, but I really liked how it all played out. It actually would have been about 1.5 to 2 thousand words longer, but I decided to cut those parts, because it would have been way too long. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this Fax while it lasts.

Only four more chapters, (besides the epilogue.)

So without further ado,

Broken: Chapter 32

Broken Stars

Max

I didn't know what I was doing when I said yes. Dates were something that normal girls did with normal boys. Normal boys and girls were the ones who would worry about what to wear or how to act. Not girls who were abused, not boys who sacrificed their lives for their sister's wellbeing. This was not how people like me act.

People like me act as if we don't exist.

Like we don't even deserve to be compared to those normal boys and girls. Like we are so different that there is no way our life could be similar.

And yet hear I was: worrying what I was going to wear and how I was going to act. Anyone who said that the abused and the normality were too different to live a similar life was wrong. Because here I was, with a boyfriend, (at least that's what we had agreed to call each other,) who was taking me on a date.

Had I even wanted to go on this date? A definite no. Being a big sister is a full-time job when it comes to my life. Wake up Nudge, get her dressed, make her breakfast, (an impossible feat for me to do without burning down the house,) give her money for lunch, drive her to school, drive back to my school, study so I can get out of this town with her, and live happily ever after with only our nightmares to torment us with the past.

It wasn't that I didn't want to go on a date with Fang: I did. I really did. But it was Nudge. Nudge was completely against the idea of me dating. She always would talk me up to the idea: Look at that guy? Isn't he cute? You should go talk to him? You guys could be, like, soul mates. What about that guy? He looks so hot? Actually, don't talk to him, cause I might. But now, she just glared at me in the corner while I finished straightening my hair. She glared at me while I put on a bit of make-up. She glared when I put on my outfit. She didn't stop.

I was wearing a white, off-the-shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline and sleeves that covered my arms from mid bicep, to the tips of my fingers, (a dress that also strategically covered bruises, Hallelujah.) I matched it with a simple silver chain, one I had received from my mother. It had been passed down for generations, and she had left it for me in her will. It was one of the only thing that was left that Jeb let me keep. I fingered the necklace while Nudge continued to glare obsessively at me.

Maybe it's just because it's Fang. She hasn't stopped herself from expressing her displeasure with Fang before. She wouldn't now. "Maybe, I might just tell Jeb. You know how he feels about Fang. Just the mention of him sends him on rampage."

"You do that and I'll hightail out of here. Leave you to fend for yourself." She fell silent. She knew I would never do that: why would I ever leave anyone with a demon like Jeb? I wouldn't wish him upon my worse enemy. But just the mention of his name sent her quiet.

She sighed, "Fang's bad news. Just look at his family." And the world stops spinning.

I glared at her, "Oh, just because his dad died in a car accident? Just because his mom is always drunk and high? Just because he'd rather deal with his mother and protect his sister than turn his mother in and lose Juliet? Or is it just because he's poor?" She was quiet, "Look at our family, Nudge. My mom died. Jeb's a monster. And we're rich as fuck. And let's not forget about your previous family. Your mom ditched you. She left you in an abandoned house, while she went out stealing from banks and gas stations."

That's when gets out of that god-forsaken corner and she slaps me, "Don't you ever talk about my mom. Not when you've gone you're entire life living easily. You get whatever you want whenever you want. You threw away Dylan. Not because you didn't like him, but because of Fang. You put yourself and me in danger by bringing him over twice a week for three months; not because you wanted to, but because of Fang. It's always Fang, Fang, Fang. Now your risking my safety by leaving me alone with that hellhole, just because Fang asked you out. You know I've been asked out too, but I never actually go out because I know that you'd worry too much. Because it's all about you."

I chuckle, "I spent my entire life serving you, Nudge. I don't bring anyone over: that's because of protecting you. I keep you locked in your room all night: that's because I don't want Jeb to start coming after you. I didn't even let you know I was being abused: that's because if you knew, it would put you at risk.

"And about this freaking date? I made sure that Jeb wasn't coming home tonight. He is upstate, on a scientist convention or meeting or some shit. I wouldn't be going on this freaking date if Jeb would be here. That's because of you. So I ask for one night: one night where I don't have to worry about Jeb, or you, or school, or college, or Iggy, or my life. I just want one night out with my boyfriend. Is that too much to ask?"

I don't let her answer. I stalk out the room without looking at her. I can't handle another minute with her.

When I leave the house, I know that I'll need to apologize to Nudge later. I know that I was out of line. She was too, but I'm the mature one, so I have to take the high ground. But I don't go back in to say that I'm sorry. I wish that I had.

When I see Fang walk up the driveway, he is clad in black. Black dress shirt, black jeans, black vans, black hair, black eyes. But when I see him, his eyes brighten up just a smidge. They go from coal to obsidian, with that bit of sparkle. I try to remember those eyes. Those hopelessly enticing eyes staring at me, while I stare back. He's holding a rose, but I could care less about the flower. I'm just happy to see him.

I greet him with a kiss, a hard one, pressing myself firm against him. We flow like an angel and a demon dishonoring their masters by being together. Creating life from death, and death from life.

He smiles, "As much as I hate to stop this, we have dinner reservations."

I smile back, "Well we couldn't have that," I grab his hand and hold it. He is the only thing I can feel. The only thing I can see and the only thing I want to see.

We begin to walk down the long road, until my house is only a block in the distance the size of a thumb

We arrived only a few minutes later; Fang was taking me to a restaurant called, "The Cellar." Though it sounds like a setting for a horror movie, in all actuality, it was a very prestigious and expensive Italian-based restaurant. I had heard wondrous things about it, but Jeb was never one to take out his children and show them off.

I was surprised at Fang's choice. It was obvious that the food would be very expensive, maybe twenty or thirty dollars for each meal. I almost didn't want to go here, I didn't want to empty Fang's pockets out: that could be all the money he has for food in a week. And I knew he wouldn't let me pay; he was too stubborn, and to much of a gentleman.

"Are you sure you want us to go here?" I asked, "I mean, we don't have to. We could just as easily go somewhere else where they won't charge you for water."

He laughs, "I'm pretty sure that no restaurant does that. But don't worry, it's all under control." But I'm still worried; Fang has enough troubles living as it is, but with this expensive of a restaurant; it worries me.

We hesitantly walk inside the dimly lit room, and step up to a podium with a man behind it. The man was staring down at the tabletop, looking at what seemed to be a reservation book. "Walker, table for two," Fang said with an assuring tone in his voice. The man looked up, his eccentric, blue eyes staring past our bodies and into our souls.

He looks back down at his reservation book, highlights a name out, then says, "Ah yes, Nicolas Walker, this way please." He walks past the sitting room and into the dining room, still dimly lit with only a few celling lights above. We continued walking until eventually we were at the back of the room, at a single door that had a blacked-out window. I couldn't help but feel somewhat nervous.

And the door opened, and so did the stars. It was like a dark forest, suddenly lit up by millions of fireflies, flickering their bright butts in around the space. Vines wrapped around the railings, bordering the building; and trees rustled all around us, green leaves threatening to fall. There was a single table, draped in a white table cloth, with two spiraled chairs tucked slightly beneath it. Fang pulled out my chair, scraping it on the concrete below. I placed myself down, and he pushed me back in.

The waiter with the blindingly blue eyes stopped, "Can I get you anything to drink?" Fang said iced tea. I said water. He left promptly.

I stared across the table to Fang: his messy black hair tousled sloppily to the right, he's shirt looking completely ironed and pressed, and his eyes, black as my soul, yet still dancing their way to my heart. I couldn't stop staring, "God, Max, you're quieter then I am. And that's saying something."

I blushed, quickly turning away from his face, "I'm just.."

"Amazed, bewildered, impressed, flabbergasted," He listed, "I have that kind of effect on people you know."

I chuckled, and for once, he did too, "It's just so crazy. How did you do all this?"

"I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy's cousin,"

"Stop quoting Spongebob," I reprimand in a jokingly stern voice.

And he smiles. It's the first time that he ever smiles, and I relish it, making sure that I won't forget it. It brightens the sky better than the stars, and all of the previous worries that I had falls away. I remember that smile, just in case it is the last of it's kind. It lasts only a matter of two seconds, but it feels like hours where the corners of his lips are lifted above their normal height. Where his teeth shine in the dark night. "Soo..." he says in utter awkwardness, and I realize I've been staring too long.

"So, what do people do on dates?"

He cocks an eyebrow, "Like I would know."

"Then let's play a game," I say, my childish ways bursting out of me, "How about twenty questions?"

His eyebrow raises yet again, "We are in one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, and you suggest we play a game," he spats, and I regret saying anything. I regret even coming. But then his scowl turns into a smirk, "What else would we do?"

I laugh: partially to fill up the awkward silence, partially in relief that I didn't just screw everything up. "Okay, I'll go first then," I think for a bit before saying, "Do you believe in aliens?" He laughs, "What? This is a completely reasonable question. I need to make sure you're not crazy, right?"

"I guess that I believe that we are not the only life-forms in the entirety of the universe, but I don't believe in the green things with the big heads and the weird antenna things." He says confidently.

I remark back, "That's crazy. There has been absolutely no proof of aliens or that any has ever existed."

"Do you believe in God?" He asks.

I don't think he realizes how serious of a question it is, so I try to brush it off, "Does that count as a question?" I reply smartly.

He shrugs, "I don't care, but do you?" I shrug back. I used to be a Christian: I went to a Christian based school, with a Religion class, and uniforms, and the whole nine yards when I was Nudge's age, but once my mother died, (the Christian tie in my family,) I started to drift out of it. I couldn't, and still can't, figure out why God could let bad things happen to good people. And he definitely wasn't looking after us now. I mean, I was being abused, same with Fang, and we were both suffering from pressure at home and at school.

But I wanted there to be something in the world. Hoping that heaven exists is better than not, because at least when you die you'll live on in spirit, but if you don't believe in God, then you believe in just dying and that being that. I want something more. "I don't know," I finally say after being deep in thought, "Sorta."

"Well, no one can prove that God exists, and yet you believe in him, along with millions of others."

The waiter comes back now, asking us what we want to eat. I look for the least expensive item on the menu, but even that is seventeen dollars alone. Fang decides to order a steak, but not just any ole' steak, but a filet mignon. One that costs almost forty dollars: my mouth drops. And then he looks at me for my answer. "Chicken," I say, "I'll have the chicken with green beans." And he leaves us alone to converse again.

"Do you believe in God?" I ask back, suddenly interested on what he has to say on the topic.

He brushes his hair back with his fingers, "I guess so. I mean I definitely believe in something, I'm just not very religious. Juliet is, though. I take her to Mass on Sundays, sorta just because it's a chance to get away from Anne, but sometimes I listen. I don't know if I believe it word for word, but I think it's better to have a religion than not," I nod in understanding, and he chuckles again, "Okay, let's get back on topic. What would your superpower be?"

I try to look for a funny answer, "The ability to walk on two feet without tripping every five seconds," I joke; the corner of his lip twitches ever so slightly, and I hope to see his smile again. "Okay, it's my turn. So, you're favorite subject is English, right?" He nods, "And you like to read?" He nods again, "Then what was the last book that you've read?"

I expect a profound answer, an I just read this book that is entirely in French, but I translated it myself and read it, and got such a great message out of it, that you wouldn't understand. But instead he says, "The Very Hungry Caterpillar."

I laugh, expecting for it to be a joke, but his face stays stone-like, "I was reading it to a group of kids at the library. Juliet wanted to go, and someone bailed out on the story time thing, so I volunteered. It's lame, I know." But I grasp his hand, in love with his answer. And I can't help but wondering how he could be such a perfect person.

The waiter comes to our table, with our food only four minutes after the end of that conversation. We continued with the question game, however, we often strayed so off topic that by the time we finished our food and Fang received the check, we were both only on question 16.

I wish I hadn't seen Fang's face when he saw the check. It was disheartening, seeing him so stressed. He grabbed his wallet, scraping to find enough money. I looked up to him with a fake smile plastered on my face, "I'm going to go to the bathroom really quick," I said, that smile staying on my face. I stood up, making sure to have my purse with me, and walked inside to the main dining room.

I looked around the large, dark room: it's packed, every single table filled with a couple, or a family, or coworkers. But in one table, seated for two, sat an old man, no older than sixty-five. His balding grey hair shown in the lighting, as he held hands with the woman across from her. She was tiny, the chair she was sitting in was two times bigger than her, at least.

"Excuse me, sir," I say as politely as I can, "Can you do me a huge favor?"

He turns toward me, curious, but also skeptical, "Depends on the favor."

I smile, "Okay, so my boyfriend and I are eating dinner out there, and he's not exactly the most privileged guy, and so I don't want him to have to pay for the dinner, because he also has to take care of his sister, but he won't let me pay for it, so I was wondering if I could give you the money, and then you could give the money to our waiter, and say that it was an anonymous tip, because he would know that I had paid for it, but if I were to say that it was someone else, and not lie than that would be so much better-"

"Honey, slow down, we can barely understand you, restart," The lady says.

I take a deep breath, "Okay, so my boyfriend took me out to dinner tonight, and he sort of went overboard. He doesn't exactly have the most money, so I'm afraid that if he spends all of his money on me, then he won't be able to take care of his little sister," They nod, as if to tell me that they are following me, "My boyfriend is really stubborn, so I know he won't let me pay."

I stop to make sure that they perceive the rush of information, "Keep going, Honey."

"Okay, so I was wondering if I could give you the money, so that you could give the money to our waiter as an anonymous tip."

The man perked up, "Honey, why don't you just give the money to the waiter yourself?"

I sigh slightly, "I would, but I hate lying and he would definitely know it was me. I just would feel better if I didn't lie to him."

The couple turned together, eyes meeting, as if they had a telepathic conversation, just with their eyes. They were contemplating: deciding whether they wanted to do anything to do anything for this insane teenager in front of them. "We'll do it, Honey." The lady said.

I sighed in relief, "Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me," I began to scourge throughout my purse until finally I found my wallet. I gave them a hundred and twenty dollars, knowing that the bill would be at least a hundred. "If there's any extra, go ahead and keep it. This is so nice of you guys, so thank you!"

I walked back outside, when a thought came to me. Those people could just take the money and run. I openly just gave them a hundred and twenty dollars without even thinking that they could just keep it. But it was too late now. Either they're honest, or they're reasonable.

I walked back out the door, and joined Fang again. His eyes met mine, as I sat back down into the beautiful scenery, and his eyes began to sparkle again. Just like they did at the beginning of tonight. "That was a long trip to the bathroom," He announced.

"Well, you know me, I just had to fix my make-up, and my hair, and my clothes," I joked. He laughed, shoving me slightly. "Everything all settled?"

"The waiter been busy, I guess, so he hasn't swung by to pick up the check." He said with a bit of sadness laced in his voice.

Only two minutes later, (after what felt like an hour with the awkwardness filled throughout the air,) our waiter finally came through the door to our table. Fang lifted the check toward him, a collection of loose dollars and change, but he rejected it in disgust.

"That won't be necessary, sir." He said with as much of respect to him as a cop to a criminal, "There has been an anonymous tip from a customer, and they provided the money for your dinner tonight."

And suddenly, my doubt in humanity is restored, and I think that the world really isn't doomed. The waiter goes away with an empty check, and Fang turns toward me, "You did this, didn't you?"

The corners of my lips perk up and I say with all honesty, "Nope, must just be some amazing people who decided they want to do something nice for someone."

He rolled his eyes, obviously not believing me, "Whatever, let's get out of here before that waiter comes back and shoots me with a gun."

I laugh, grab his hand, and follow him out of the beautiful outdoor seating area, into the restaurant. And as we walked out the room, my eyes caught the small, elderly couple and nodded toward them, showing my appreciation and thanks. They nodded back.

And we walked outside, continuing holding each other's hands, "Hey, now we can go get dessert."

He laughs, reminding me that everything will be okay, that nothing can go wrong while we are together, "I'll give you some dessert," and he wrapped me in his arms, and kissed me gently until everything bad in the world faded away, and it was only Fang and I.

And there it is. I hope you guys liked this chapter. Get ready for the next chapter it's gonna be great.

Only four chapters left!

See y'all in two-four weeks :P

~Maximum Reading