a.n: OK so this is an intense one. Well… even more intense than last time. I'm actually really nervous because I'm not sure how everyone'll like it. :/

Thanks to:RarusuTLS,HonoraryLoser,HikarinoKasai,Lito-Arumi,T-Bone14,Anonymous Skrtle,CheekyBrunette,NoctePluvia,freakycutiecarlos,xEryChan, and the anonymous review left by someone… anonymous.

Enjoy Chapter 8 of Sticks and Stones!

Chapter 8: Flashbacks

I was released from the hospital for about 5 days. I stayed for the weekend. I've been taking medicine with every meal, which increased in volume each day (thanks to my therapists Dr. Thomason and Dr. Crestman).

Gustavo wasn't happy that I was in the hospital for as long as I did, in fact he looked just about ready to bite my head off. Luckily Kelly was at my aid and defended me. Ever since, I've been working my backside off to prove to Gustavo that I could redeem myself and make up for time lost. At this point though, I didn't care whether James felt that I was trying to outshine him, all that mattered to me was showing Gustavo that I was good enough to be in his band.

My world hasn't changed much since then, only the fact that Stephanie, Mrs. Knight, and Kelly have been watching me like hawks. They've each been making me eat at least a little whenever I had the chance. I didn't really like the attention (in fact it was getting quite annoying), but I knew that they only meant the best. There was one more person that I noticed was keeping an eye on me: Logan. Ever since I came home he's been watching me even more than the girls- especially during meals. The only time he looks away is when I catch him staring. I've wanted to talk to him about it but after our last encounter, I'm honestly kind of scared.

"I don't know Stephanie. I mean it's really creeping me out but I really don't want a repeat of last week. Stephanie and I were sitting in a cabana by the pool, sipping on our individual smoothies. "Well you can't just sit there and let him freak you out. You've gotta do something about it," Stephanie told me, casually sipping on her pink smoothie. "Well what do you want me to do, go up to him and say 'hey, even though you hate my guts I'm going to demand that you stop staring at me?'" Stephanie seemed to mull over the idea. "Yup sound good to me!" I rolled my eyes. "You're a freak." She smiled up at me. "But a freak that's your new best friend!" I stood up. "Whatever. I'm going upstairs," I told her, not wanting to talk about Logan anymore.

"You're gonna talk to Logan while you're up there right?" she called out as I began to walk away. "No promises!"

'I can't believe I'm doing this,' I thought to myself. For the past 2 hours Stephanie has been texting, e-mailing, IM-ing, calling, and facebooking me, telling me to talk to Logan. Now usually I'm a pretty patient guy when it came to other people. But being poked and prodded ti great extent could test anyone.

"So you'll do it right?" she had asked again over the phone. "Yes, fine! I'll do it OK? Just… leave me alone." I finally had it. After almost 100 texts, 15 long and detailed e-mails, 8 IM conversations, 35 calls, and 10 Facebook messages I had enough and just agreed. Unfortunately for me, I'm not a liar. I was raised to do my best to be honest in all situations, and this was no exception. "Great!" she squealed. "Whatever," I grumbled back. I really didn't want to do this. "Good luck," she said in a chipper and excited voice. "Thanks. I'm gonna need it," I told her honestly before hanging up the phone.

So that's how I found myself standing in front of Logan's closed door. 'I think I'm gonna puke,' I thought to myself. But since I didn't, I sighed and poised my hand to knock. 'No backing out now.' Logan had allowed me to enter after I had summoned up the courage to knock. I took a deep breath and opened the door. He looked up from his position on the bed and saw me. He sighed heavily and looked back down at the textbook in front of his crossed legs. "What?" he asked harshly.

"I just wanted to ask you something," I replied, doing my best to stay calm, cool, and collected while I stood in the doorway of his room. "Well what is it?" he demanded, no sympathy in his voice. I gulped. "I just wanted to know why you've been watching me for the last few days," I said, doing my best to keep the quivering out of my voice. He looked up from his textbook for half a second before continuing with his reading. "Why does that matter?" I started to get confused now. "Um, because you were staring at me, and it's weird and creepy," I told him sincerely. "Like I said, it doesn't matter," he told me, not looking up this time. "Logan I don't know what game you're playing, or what you're doing but it's starting to annoy me. So could you please answer my question so I can leave?" I shouted. "If you wanna leave, then leave! You're so annoying, God… no wonder your Mom killed herself. I froze as those last words left his mouth. He seemed to realize what he said because his head whipped up and his eyes went wide.

"C-Carlos. Carlos, I didn't mean to- oh my God." His apologies fell onto deaf ears, as all I heard were the cries and screams from my memories. I vaguely noticed Logan getting up from his bed, heading towards me. I backed up until my back hit the doorframe. I didn't say anything as I slipped past him and ran to my room down the hall. I heard his footsteps following me the whole way. As soon as I was inside I slammed the door and locked it with a click. Logan knocked on the door and jiggled with the handle.

"Carlos? Carlos please open up! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" As my sweaty back hit the cool wooden door I slide down, landing on my bum. I pulled my knees up to my chest, burying my face in them. I felt as Logan's fists pounded on the door and his words vibrating off the wood. I closed my eyes and zoned him out; remembering the night my whole life went wrong.

(Flashback)

A 12-year old Carlos laughed loudly along with his 10-year old brother Luke at the 50 inch plasma T.V in front of them. "Will you two keep it down?" A 14-year old Marissa asked loudly from her position on the recliner next to the couch. In her hands was a Blackberry Curve, a bright purple and pink case covering the back. "I'm texting Yolanda. She told me that Wendy and Brianna are in a major fight and I need to concentrate so I can get all the details!"

Carlos rolled his eyes. "Who cares about that? A new episode of SpongeBob is on!" It was Marissa's turn to roll her eyes. "You saw that episode like three hours ago!" "SSSSHHH! Be quiet!" Luke yelled to his older siblings. "It's not even our fault 'M', it's yours. You were supposed to send us to bed HOURS ago." Marissa glared at the small boy. "What are you getting at?" Luke smiled innocently. "If you don't let us watch SpongeBob in peace, we'll tell Mom you let us stay up late AND didn't make is take showers," the young boy said smugly, an equally smug smirk matching. Marissa kept up her glare. "Sometimes… I hate having brothers…" she grumbled. "So we have a deal?' Marissa sighed. "Yup."

An hour later, at 12:09 on the dot, Sylvia Garcia opened the door of her three-story home. As she entered the house she felt t he heat from the furnace warm her up immediately. She sighed softly and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of her home. As she opened her eyes once more, she couldn't help but wonder why the downstairs light was on. Deciding to investigate further, she closed the door, slipped off her black heels and red pea coat and proceeded to walk into her house, her now bare feet padding gently against the dark wooden floor. As she made her way to the living room she realized to things. One: the television was on, and two: there were soft giggles coming from the room.

"Ahem." Sylvia cleared her throat loudly, crossing her arms over her chest. All three of her children stopped what they were doing and looked fearfully at her.

"Heeeeey Mom," Carlos said nervously, adding a small wave. Though Carlos smiled gently at her she kept her defiant stare and dropped his hand. "WHAT are you three stilling doing up?" she asked dangerously. "Watching T.V?" Luke said, although it came out more like a question. "Texting?"Marissa said, holding up her phone for proof. As their mother continued looking at them, silently asking for answers, Carlos and Luke shared nervous yet knowing looks.

"It was Marissa's fault!" the two boys yelled, pointing at her with accusing fingers. "What? It's not my fault!" she retorted, looking furious. "Yes it is. You didn't make us shower and you didn't make us go to bed," Luke argued, getting his sisters' face. "Yeah," Carlos nodded. "Plus, you're supposed to tell us what to do and you didn't! You spent all your time on your stupid phone!" The three kids argued in front of their mother, who was now pinching the bridge of her nose and slowly getting a headache as her children's voices increased in volume.

"Enough!" she yelled! "We'll deal with this in the morning… OK?" the kids nodded, seeing how aggravated she was. "Up to your rooms… NOW." Her kids quickly scrambled up and starting racing to their individual rooms. Carlos and Luke were almost to the stairs when their Mom called their sister back. "Your phone please?" Sylvia asked with an extended arm and open palm. Carlos and Luke took this opportunity to rush up the stairs while Marissa slowly reached in her pocket and pulled out her Blackberry. "You can get this back when you prove to me that you're responsible enough to have it, alright?" Marissa gulped and nodded. "Yes ma'am." "Good. Now go up to your bed." Sylvia watched as her daughters feet quickly and swiftly took her up the spiraling stairs.

When she heard the door slam closed she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She picked up the remote and clicked off the T.V. As she stared at the reflection on the blank and unmoving object, she couldn't help but wonder: was she doing the right thing? She shook her head to get rid of these thoughts. She had to do this. If not for her, then for her family. So she turned off the light and carefully headed up the stairs and into her room.

Carlos, clad in his pajamas (which consisted of navy blue and white plaid pants and a grey t-shirt) jumped into his bed, ready to turn off the lamp and call it a day. As he reached over to pull on the beaded, metal chain, he suddenly remembered something. "Oh yeah!" The Latino clambered out of his bed and ran to the door, flinging it open and heading down the hall to his parents room. He was about to slam open the door when he remembered what his parents had always told him. "Always knock before entering a room other than yours," he recited, proud he remembered exactly what he was told.

So with a smile, Carlos raised his fist and knocked. No answer. So Carlos knocked again. Still no answer. Surely his mother couldn't be asleep yet, she always took a while to go to sleep. With a shrug Carlos started to turn away from the door, on his way back to his room. But something in his gut told him that he should at least go inside… so he did. He turned back around and ever so slowly turned the knob.

"Mom?" he called out quietly, sticking his head inside the room. When he didn't get an immediate reply he stepped inside fully. 'Weird,' he thought. 'I don't see Mom.' "Mom?" he called again, looking around. "Mama?" He looked under the bed, behind the dresser, and by the curtains, but he couldn't find his Mom anywhere. "The closet!" he exclaimed. He raced over and flung the door open, a huge smile gracing his face. As the door opened Carlos was met with the face of his Mother, her eyes closing, signaling she had just passed.

A blood-curdling scream escaped Carlos' lips as he took a good look at his Mother's now dead form. She was in the closet, her feet about to two above the ground, a step-stool just beneath her feet, slightly kicked off to the side. She had a leather belt wrapped tightly around her neck, digging into her now paling skin. The other end of the long belt was also tied to the pole that was attached to the inside of the closet. Her body was now limp and lifeless. It was a sight that no one should see- especially not a 12 year old. She was still in her work clothes and it scared Carlos even more, knowing that she would never go back to work again. As the tears began to cascade down the Latino's face, Marissa tiredly stomped into the room.

"What's with all the screaming?" she asked angrily. Carlos rushed over to his sister, hugging her tightly and sobbing into her shirt. Temporarily forgetting about her anger she began to stroke her brothers short, black hair. "Hey, hey. What's the matter bud?" Carlos sobbed even harder. "M-mom s-she-" he couldn't bring himself to say it. "She what?" Marissa asked, beginning to worry. "She's dead." Marissa's breath caught in her throat. "C-Carlos that- that isn't a funny joke. Tell me what's really wrong." That IS what's really wrong. I walked in to tell her something and then I-I found her in the closet." Marissa released her brother and slowly walked to the closet. "No don't!" she peered inside and regretting it immediately. A high-pitched and pained scream tore its way through her throat, disturbing the otherwise silent house. Marissa dropped to her knees. "Oh my God."

Luke then ran into the room, baseball in hand. "What's wrong? What's with all the screaming?" Marissa got up from her position on the floor and gently pushed Luke out of the room. "I-it's nothing. Go back to bed," she stuttered. "No I heard screaming. Why's the closet open?" "Luke don't!" "MOM!" Luke had managed to escape her sisters grasp and run around her and Carlos and look into the closet. Like Marissa, he regretted it. He dropped the baseball bat and ran into his siblings embrace and sobbed with them after seeing his now dead mother's state.

"Sylvia, why are all the kids doors open? ... Kids?" The Garcia children all ran up their father as he walked into the room. "Woah, hey, calm down. Where's your mother?" All three kids pointed to the closet. "What?" he whispered to himself. He let go of his kids and slowly stalked to the closet. "Dios mio…" Cristian's head was spinning. "What happened?" he asked Carlos babbled to his father what he saw. "I'm sorry Dad… I'm so sorry…" Carlos wailed. "If I had found her faster she would have been OK!" His father shook his head. "No, no it's-it's not your fault. Come now, let's go downstairs." Cristian began to lead his children out of the room when Marissa called out. "Wait!" she exclaimed. "There's something on the bed!" She pulled out of her Dad's grasp and ran over to the bed, grabbing a piece of paper folded into thirds. She desperately hoped it was a note telling her that it was all a prank. Her hopes were crushed when she read the note. By the time she had read all of it she was weeping once again. "What does it say?" Luke asked nervously.

It said:

Marissa, Carlos, Luke, and Cristian,

I'm sorry. By the time you read this I would have been dead and gone. I'm sorry but I had to do this

Do you remember Grandma Rosalina; the one that passed away a little over a year ago? She was my Mom and my inspiration. Shortly after she had died I began thinking about her all day every day. I thought about how she was such a fantastic Mother. The way she strived for us to do our very best. She never cared whether we had gotten a 'D-' on a math test. "As long as you tried your best," she would say. "Then that's all that matters." I realized I wasn't this kind of Mother. I had pushed all of you too hard and had my expectations for you guys way too high. I starting thinking about how I was raising you and comparing it to the way my Mother raised my siblings and I. She always had time for us while I hardly had time for you. She was a way better wife and Mother than I could ever hope to be. I then realized that no matter what I did, or how hard I worked, I'd never compare to my Mother. So I decided to end it. My life. I waited a year and for the perfect time. I'm sorry.

Marissa, you will always be my little girl. No matter what happens I'll always be proud of you. Follow your dreams of being a dancer and don't listen to anything negative ever has to say. You are extremely talented and there's no one out there like you- you're unique and special. You're a smart, dedicated and amazing girl that I'm so proud to call my daughter. I just KNOW that you'll succeed and triumph in whatever you do. I'm so sorry that I won't be there to help you pick out your wedding dress but don't worry; I know you'll fund a great husband who'll treat you right. Help your father take care of your brothers for me. I know this will shake you all up, but you have to keep strong for everyone. Keep up what you're doing sweetie, I love you.

Carlos, sweetie. I know that you've always secretly felt pressured by me, but you must know that no matter what you do, or what route you decide to take, I will always be supporting you. If hockey is something that you love to do and want to do as long as possible, don't you dare let anyone stop you. Ignore people that don't say you're good enough, and people that don't respect you. You're strong-hearted, funny, witty and a joy to be around. I know that beneath all that silliness and craziness there's an extremely intelligent boy. Please remember to focus on your studies and keep up the relationships you have with your friends. I apologize that I won't be there when you enter high school, but I know you'll be just fine. I love you honey, and I miss you.

My dear Luke, you are my youngest but I love as much as I love your siblings. I was never quite sure what you wanted to be since you kept changing your mind, but I know you'll be exceptional no matter what it is. Keep doing what it is that makes you happy. Continue to do well in school and making the right choices for you. I'm sorry that I won't be there to see you grow up and enter middle school or high school but don't let that stop you. I'll always be proud of you. I love you and I miss you.

Cristian, I know I promised you that I'd always be there for you but I couldn't do this anymore. I wasn't doing as much as I could. I wasn't being a good Mother to your kids and I definitely wasn't being a good enough wife to you. I wasn't cheating nor was I emotionally unattached, I just didn't feel good enough to be in this family anymore. I wasn't raising the kids well enough. I know that I could've changed, so I tried. That year I tried not to focus on what I was planning, but on being better. I had failed… I couldn't even live up to my own expectations.

I don't hate you Cristian. I could never hate you or the kids, but I do hate myself. I hate doing this to you and the kids. I know there were other options. I could've gotten help, but I didn't feel that I needed it. Plus, help would've meant explaining myself, and I couldn't have that. Divorce was another option. But I couldn't LIVE and knowing I did that (meaning I would've ended up dead either way). I could've and should've talked to you about what I was going through, but I couldn't. I just couldn't bring myself to tell you. Every time I would try and bring it up, the words would just die on my tongue.

There's a lot of "could haves" here, but that's only because I couldn't bring myself to do these things. I am SO SORRY Cristian. I'm sorry that I left you alone. Sorry about that pain I must've put you in. Sorry about not being the wife I could have been. There are no words to explain how sorry I am. But I want you to find another woman who can love you right and help raise the kids correctly. Someone better than me- ANYONE. I love you mi madiro. I'll miss you.

I want you all to know that I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I love you with all my heart, even if it isn't beating anymore. I want you all to put this behind you and eventually move past this. Don't feel guilty; any of you. You couldn't have seen this coming, I hid it too well. I know it's selfish of me to be asking any of you anything, but I want you all to be as happy as you can because you deserve it. You aren't at fault here. I am. You are all amazing, each and every one of you. Please, keep doing what you're doing because you're all doing it perfectly. I love you all and I'll miss you.

Love, Mom

(Flashback over)

By the time I came to, I realized two things. One: Logan stopped trying to talk to me, and two: it was 6:47 P.M., three hours after the encounter with Logan. I sighed and stood up, walking into the bathroom that Kendall and I shared and that separated our rooms. I locked the doors to both my and his rooms. No one needed to disrupt me.

I opened the medicine cabinet and took out a new razor, pulling apart the blades, wincing as they nicked my skin every once in a while. I stared at them, determining which one was the sharpest. I picked up the one in the middle and held it up in front of my face. I turned it, putting it on all different angles. I put it back on the counter and sighed. I couldn't do this.

I rolled up the sleeve of my long-sleeved knit shirt and looked at the two, now faint scars on my left wrist. It's been just over a year since I cut myself last. 'One for each death.' I glanced from my scarred flesh over to the shiny, clean blades once again. Did I want to do this? I made a promise to Luke and Marissa that I wouldn't, but the urge was back now, stronger than ever. But I had nothing to be upset about. Logan had only said something. I remembered something. Something that had happened almost four years ago. It was just a memory now, but it still stung.

"No wonder your Mom killed herself," he had said. My fists clenched and my jaw locked at the memory. He knew that I had issues about that. After her death I confided in only him, that I blamed myself for her untimely death. He knew that I felt that I had never lived up to her expectations, causing her to feel so frustrated that she decided to end her own life. He knew that I felt that if I had found her just one second faster, she could still be alive to this day. He knew that I felt so guilty that I cut myself for the first time two weeks after her death. But that's just a memory now. A scar that that might never fade, but a memory that will eventually (and hopefully) will. It's no reason to cut myself again.

But what if they meant it? What if I annoyed him so much before he had considered killing himself too? I always pestered Logan because it was so fun and hilarious to see him get all flustered and mad. But would he kill himself? Because I wasn't good in school and constantly begged for his assistance? I couldn't believe it. If we hadn't got into that fight he might've killed himself. But that's ridiculous… right? No one could hate someone so much.

'THEY hate you so much,' a familiar voice in my head told me. I sighed, knowing it was right. Logan hated me, James hated me, and Kendall hated me, plain and simple. I looked back at the blade. The perfect, sharp, amazing blade. I rolled up my sleeve back up hastily, grabbing the blade just as quickly. I was literally millimeters away from cutting my vein when I froze. I couldn't do this. I made a promise. But I HAD to. I need to. It's essential. I was GOING to do this. I pressed the blade against my skin. Was I?

a.n: Bum, bum, buuuuuuuuuuuuuum! My very first, official cliff-hanger EEP! I hope you all liked this chapter, it was my longest and I worked super, duper hard on it for you guys. Please tell me how you liked it by reviewing! Love you all!

Later peepz.