Hey, I'm back, yet again with a fast update!Everyone gasps Yes, yes, it's true, I've update. This chapter is a little short, but…slight spoiler…it's a heavy impact chapter…so, before I ruin the story…Review responses!

Kate Maxwell: Yeah, I figured Virgil would do that. I had fun writing it, and yes, only time will tell. Thank you for humoring me and my pun.

Quillian: Thanks, I appreciate it. It's always nice to know that there are still new people reading this.

Goddess of Twilight: Good pace huh? I think I might have rushed this new chapter a little, but I'm not sure. It's a pretty common title, so I wouldn't be surprised if a lot more people used it. I had writers block when I had to name it, what else can I say?

Trecebo: The guilt isn't laid on too heavily, is it? If it is…well…after this chapter…nope, I wont ruin anything…just tell me if you think I should mellow it down a little with the guilt.

RealityBreakGirl: Yeah, that's exactly the kind of guy Virgil is. I think that's probably the most in-character thing I've written throughout this entire fic.--' And yes, poor Richie with the guilt…but trust me, it only gets….thought I'd tell, did you? You'll just have to read to find outf!

Chapter 19- Razor's Edge

Richie poked at his lunch with his spork. He had been sitting at the outdoor lunch table for half an hour and the food had yet to make its way from the trey to his mouth. Richie hadn't even looked at the food to find out what it was. He occasionally examined his surroundings, watching other teens in groups with their friends, laughing at some joke or talking about their latest class. Frieda and Daisy had tried talking to him, but had given up and left when he didn't respond for fifteen minutes.

The bell soon rang, signaling the end of lunch. Richie quietly got up and deposited his lunch and made his way to class, not paying attention to the waves or shouts of greeting hurtled his way. The class, like his lunch, was ignored. His teacher had even tried calling on him to answer a question, but it fell on deaf ears. This, of course, was unacceptable, and Mrs. Tam made a point to let the absentminded teen know this.

"Mr. Foley, if I recall, you're still a student here, and you must answer the questions just like all the other students." No response, and Mrs. Tam was not one to go crying to the principle when her students were disobedient. Taking the giant Webster's dictionary, she dropped it on Richie's desk.

BANG!

Richie literally jumped from his seat, eyes filled with terror scanning the room.

The sound of the gunfire vibrated throughout the entire room.

"Mr. Foley!" Mrs. Tam was getting annoyed at her student's antics. Once again, she dropped the book to get his attention.

BANG!

His eyes grew, fear, worry, and anger all fighting to be seen. All winning.

"What's taking to long!"…."I thought you would have finished two hours ago."….no pulse…

"Mr. Foley?" Mrs. Tam's voice started to show concern, something that rarely, if ever happened. Something was definitely wrong. "Mr. Foley?" She gently placed a hand on his forearm, but he quickly jumped away. It had accomplished its goal though, as Richie was now looking at Mr. Tam through somewhat clearer eyes.

"I…I'm sorry…" It was all he could think of, and suddenly he felt every eye in the room on him.

"Why don't you go down to the counselor. He can…"

"No, no, I'm fine." Riche tried to play off a grin. "I was just daydreaming, that's all, nothing to worry about."

Mrs. Tam didn't believe a word of it, but she couldn't argue as Richie sat down, and as started to flip to his notes when Mrs. Tam tried again to help. "Why don't you go to the bathroom? Help wake yourself up a little."

Richie nodded in defeat, deciding there was no point in arguing, but as he stood up his finger managed to cut itself on the paper he was still holding onto. Grimacing slightly, he decided to ignore it and walked out of the room and to the boy's bathroom.

Standing over the sink, Richie noted that his finger was bleeding from the paper cut and the blood was slowly dripping into the sink. Staring at it with a sort of aw, he couldn't help but marvel at the red liquid. The very liquid that pumped through his veins, as well as every other mammal's on the planet, that kept everyone alive.

A sudden thought struck him. What would it feel like to just let the blood flow? Would it really be that bad if a few droplets of blood were lost? Surly not. Virgil lost a lot and…It would be like making things even, right?

Nodding his head in approval of this idea, Richie quickly dried off his no longer bleeding finger and left to go back to class.

A small part of Virgil wished that he hadn't gone after Richie the other night. No, he didn't regret getting his friend back, what he did regret was the pain that it had cost him. The heart monitor was irritating to say the least. He had the intense urge to scratch, but he knew that the stupid thing would come off and alert every doctor, nurse, and orderly in the hospital that he had died. It did last time, and he had to spend ten minutes reassuring everyone who had run into his room that he was ok; he had to practically hold onto his mask which he had hurriedly put on when he had heard them coming into his room.

Right now though he was watching MTV, and the dancing girls in the music video were keeping him entertained. His lunch stood in front of him, half eaten; he had learned that he wouldn't get anything better until he could handle solid foods, something he had also learned not to try. He had asked…or threatened, however you wanted to put it…one of the nurses to bring him something he could chew. She had, of course, protested, but eventually the idea of getting stuck to the ceiling made her change her mind. Static had spent a good hour after his attempted 'real meal', puking. And so, he had settled with the mashed potatoes and jello.

Sighing, he leaned back into his pillows, whishing that his abdominal muscles weren't so sore and tight. He had woken up that morning wondering why his wound hurt so much, last nights little excursion temporarily forgotten. When he remembered he could have kicked himself for not making sure that Richie was really ok. Sure he had gotten him to come back, but that didn't mean anything. He didn't know if what he had done had really hit home, and he prayed to every God and other powerful being he could think of that his friend was truly ok.

Standing in front of his bathroom sink, Richie eyed the small knife in his hand. The logical part of his brain was yelling at him to put the stupid thing down and go do his homework; everything else was canceling out the logic. Without a second thought, Richie applied the knife to his wrist and swiped it across. Hissing at the sudden pain, he soon forgot about it as he stood, fixated with the blood like he had been earlier with the paper cut. The blood flowed, but Richie's mind calculated, and he knew that it wouldn't be enough to kill him, and so the urge to stop the bleeding didn't rise up until a few minutes later when the teen started feeling lightheaded.

Grabbing a few bandages and clothes, he started to wipe away the blood on his wrist as well as the surrounding area. As he wrapped up his wrist, his logic started yelling at him, telling him that this would be the last time, he had made things even, he was done. Once again, everything else screamed back, saying that it wasn't enough, that Virgil had bled more, suffered more. A few more times, and then…then they'd be even.

Aren't you all starting to love my corny titles? lol Well, please review and tell me what you think! …not about the corny title, about the story….