Disclaimer: blah blah blah. You know I don't own this show. If I did, Jackson and Melissa would be together and Taylor and Abby would not be there at all.

I've always lived in a make believe world. I've always transported myself to different places. That's why I've always loved reading. A book can take you away from the misery and tragedies of the world, and take you to a place where everything is good, and whole, and happy. A fantasy place where there is no such thing as death, or separation. You are jubilant, just at the sheer idea of life itself. A world that was, or it, so different from my own life. I look at someone like Taylor Hagen, and wonder if she's ever experienced sadness, misery, or tragic loss. If she's ever had her heart ripped from her chest, and been trampled on by someone you love, and thought had loved you. If she's ever experienced true terror, a sheer horror where you can't scream, or move. Where your only choice was to stay still, and pray to god that you will remain your invisible self. I wonder if she's ever had to wallow in such dark periods, where she's doubted her existence, doubted in God and doubted in everything good and whole. She's so perfect. Doesn't have a care in the world. Everything has been handed down to her. Not me, once, but, not recently.

When my mom died, my dad didn't want me. I heard him talking to Alex, telling him that I'" was a disappointment," and that I would turn out like "her." He never called mom, my graceful and beautiful mother by her real name. He counted her a disgrace to our family name. I had countered that she killed herself because of him. Because of all the pain and hurt that he put her through. At this stage in my life, I blamed my father. At first, it was all on my. But as I got over it, I realized it was him. Truly, I had never gotten over it. I got a little better, but never over it. My mom killed herself, for crying out loud. How the hell am I supposed to get over it completely?! That's the question I posed to the counselors. They would always say the same old damn thing. "She would have wanted me to." Fuck that. My mom loved attention. Which isn't a bad thing, but truthfully? My mother wasn't, mom of the year. I mean, she loved Jordan and I well enough. But, well enough was enough. She was, a druggie, a drinker. That was mom. I grew up with that behavior all my life.

Coming home from school, making dinner, while my mom would cry about what awful thing my dad had done, would be what I would do everyday. Then, she'd talk to me about my school day. I would lie, make up friends, boyfriends. Truthfully? I had Nathan. No one really liked me, because I always was so "nice." I wanted friends, but people always thought I was stuck up because I never wanted to hang out. In reality, I couldn't. I had to be there to cook dinner. I had to take care of Jordan. I had to help my wasted mom stagger to the toilet to throw up. I had to hold her hair back. I had to care for her. But I loved her. I could never not love her. She could do no wrong in my eyes. I wanted to look as lovely as she did. I wanted to be her, minus the sucky husband, and the drinking/drug problem. She was everything to me. My mother was my world. And when she died, it was like someone tool me, and ripped my soul from my very being. Like I was slowly bleeding to death. Even after that, I still couldn't be mad at her. I still wanted to be like her. So I started cutting. I started sneaking swigs of alcohol.

Soon, I was fourteen. I was drinking, stealing my dead mother's wine. Being drunk was bliss. I would drink myself into oblivion. I would forget pain, and be happy. I would f pass out on the couch, listening to the Dixie Chicks, drinking, laughing and singing. It was the most fun I ever had. Then, it happened. Jordan came back. She was twelve. Dad had kicked my little twelve-year-old sister out! She had walked a mile with a small bag to where we had lived. Apparently, dad had one of his whores over, and Jordan had caught them making out. When the lady asked who Jordan was, dad said nobody. Jordan blew a gasket. She cussed them out, and sent the slut on her way with a fat lip. She then challenged how fast dad moved on from mom's death. Dad kicked her out. It was then when I knew I had to cleanup my act. NO more drinking. I had gone down to the wine cellar, and poured eighty-two bottles of wine out he window. Eighty-two bottles of wine. Antique wine, new wine, cheap wine, and expensive wine. Jordan became my main concern.

We were living well off my mother's inheritance, but dad just couldn't leave us alone He claimed we were living alone. I said I was eighteen. Jordan was fifteen. It was a lie, of course. But I had to do it. I had to save Jordan. I forged Jordan and I's birth certificates. The judge bought it, even though my father claimed they were false. But he didn't have the real ones, I happened to have burned those. So I became Jordan's "mom.' I had fooled the judge. But not for long. When I turned fifteen, two years after my mother's death, dad obtained copies of the originals. How, I don't know. We were born in Asia. But, he did. He showed them to a new judge, and they found out he claims I had made, were indeed false.

So now, I had also lost the inheritance. It went to dad. Due to this, I sat down with my lawyer, and gave up Jordan for adoption to Aprille Long, a nice woman who was my mother's best friend. As long as Jordan didn't go to dad, I was okay. Aprille wanted me too, but I decided to go to my twenty-four year old brother Alex. The backstabber. I only went to him, because I couldn't bear the thought of being with Aprille, trying to be my mom, or dad gloating over my loss of Jordan. So, I stayed with Alex, and attempted as reconciliation. We became close, as close as Jordan and I, and he decided that, with his high power job as a military general, that he could take Jordan. Jordan refused, she still hated him. I tried to persuade her, but to no avail. I gave up, and got into a nasty fight with her, the day before this hellish trip. I told her that if she wanted to replace mom with Aprille, she could, but she couldn't make me forget mo. Jordan had said, what is now etched into my memory.

"Mom was a horrible mother! She drank, she did drugs! She couldn't have give n a damn about us! She probably only killed herself to get attention! Aprille's a good mom, but not her!" Jordan had screamed.

The fact that Jordan said "her", instead of mom killed me.

Flashback

"You're just like dad! Disrespecting mom after this!" I had screamed, throwing a plate.

"She wasn't our mom. She was our "mother." She might have given birth to us, but she didn't care for us. Aprille's my mom. She cared for me. The woman who was our mother, was nothing, and meant nothing to me." Jordan had answered coolly.

And I did it. I slapped Jordan across the face.

"How dare you. I loved mom. She loved us. Aprille just feels sorry for you. Don't you EVER, EVER, EVER, disrespect mom again in front of me! You were young, you had no fucking clue what dad put her through! How DARE you!" I had raised my open palm again, to slap Jordan. But Alex grabbed my arm.

"Lissa!" he cried.

I looked at Jordan, who was holding her read cheek.

"Screw you Melissa!" Jordan had replied, and ran off to Aprille's.

Flashback ends

I trudged on in the jungle. The underbrush clawed at my ankles. Blood from the cuts upon my arm flowed like a river. The dark sticky liquid was dried on my arm, my hand; I could even feel caked blood on my face. I started to laugh, probably delirious from the blood loss. I looked at my arm, laughing because my blood didn't look red. It looked black. I laughed again, as rain began to fall. The sky was purple, and the once pink orchids that hung above me were blue. I was laughing, harder and harder, my face feeling like it was on fire. My legs turned to jelly, and I tumbled to the mossy earth. A million sharp prickly needles jammed into my back. I still laughed. Pain felt good. Laughing harder and harder, until my sides were in stitches. Harder and harder until my heart was ramming itself against my ribs. My body felt as if I were being burned alive. I was laughing so hard that my lungs were pleading for air. Then, my laughter turned into anguished screams. Bloodcurdling screams. My body would not work. I was crying, screaming, and yet, my body was paralyzed. When I ran out of breath, I did not inhale. I just lay there, hot salty tears flowing down my cheeks. I felt dizzy, and I took a breath. Then, millions of dots popped all over the purple sky. And, then, I saw nothing but darkness, as the delirium of the fever took me over, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

Whoa, I just changed that entire paragraph. Originally, she returned to the group. Now I have a new idea. What if she gets lost, and has a fever, or Malaria, or……….I KNOW!!! I know what she has. But you'll just have to wait for three or four chapters till you find out. Hmmmm………..maybe Melissa should die;) End her misery? Or suicide that was similar to her mother's? Or maybe her knight in shining armor will save her? Or will she make it to the group, but it's too late to save her? The possibilities. REVIEWS KEEP ME GOING!