A/N:

Hello all! First off,I'd like to say THAANKYOUU! To all of my beautiful reviewers. Your comments bring me joy! Im glad you like it so far, and thanks for the support and tips. This chapter doesn't have any weird spacing hopefully. I really dont know what happened there. O.o

Second, I'm sorry to say this chapter is shorter than i wanted it to be originally. However, now, im just glad Ive got it done at all. This weekend has been really, really weird, I called the cops on my neighbors... for a very valid reason, mind you. It wasn't for something stupid like loud music or junk. I honestly thought someone was getting hurt. Anyways, I wont go into anymore details out of respect for the person. But honestly, it thoroughly freaked me out. a lot...Anyways, I'm sorry if its not perfect, i really just need to take a mental health day.

_I dont own Max ride, JP does. _

Previously:

The man cocked the gun once more, his finger on the trigger. Just one finger movement and it was bye-bye Max.

However, the man never pulled the trigger. He didn't get the chance.

Out of nowhere a dark figure appeared, his leg swiftly kicking the gun out of the thug's hand.

Where had he come from? I couldn't say for sure. In fact, if I didn't know any better I'd say it was like the shadows themselves materialized before my very eyes.

He was a flash of black in the alley, his fists lashing out at my attacker, who seemed practically helpless against the constant blows. The thug was knocked onto the ground by the black-clad figure, his filthy hands searching the dark asphalt for a weapon.

Then, I saw a glint of broken glass just behind him, and I yelled out in warning just as the man's hand found the glass, his smile once again returning to his face as he thrust the glass upward. It made contact, ripping the boys shirt, and tearing a gash in his skin. Luckily, he had maneuvered out of the way before any worse damage could be done.

He sent a kick to the man's head before he could get up, knocking him out cold.

Then, he turned to me and I finally got a good look at him.

He looked around my age, maybe a year older, with jet black hair, which fell haphazardly in front of his eyes. He was wearing a plain black tee-shirt, (which was now sporting a giant rip) slightly faded black skinny jeans, and black converse. But more than anything, I noticed his dark, bottomless eyes that bore intensely into my own.

"You know, it was pretty stupid what you did back there." The words slipped out of my mouth, before I could stop them, my expression becoming guarded, unreadable…or so I hopped.

And, as soon as they had left, I felt my walls come back up, my defenses returning as if they'd never left. Who was this guy? Why was he here? Why did he help me? Could he be involved somehow?

World, meet the Poster child of Paranoia.

The boy's face—which had looked impassive before—now looked slightly upset. Which, judging by the fact that he hadn't showed emotion since he showed up, made me believe he was thoroughly furious.

"Excuse me?" He asked through clenched teeth, his hands forming fists at his side.

"You could have gotten me killed if the gun had gone off when you kicked it!" I raised my voice, my body shaking from pent up adrenaline.

"You would have gotten killed if I hadn't kicked the gun away." He retorted quickly, stepping closer to me, his midnight eyes boring into my own.

He was right, of course, but I wasn't willing to admit that, nor was I willing to give in to his argument so soon.

"It was reckless!" I shot back, now it was my turn to step closer, my eyes glaring up at him.

"Reckless?" he repeated, looking at me incredulously. "It was reckless roaming these alleys at night."

I faked a sigh then. "You're right. Roaming the alleys at night is dangerous." I said, stepping even closer and batting my eyes innocently. We were mere inches apart. "So, why then, were you out here?" I asked, sugar coating my words. I allowed a satisfied grin to spread across my face.

The boys face, however, paled. His expression gave away nothing, but I saw a hint of discomfort flash across his eyes.

Oh yeah! Score one for Team Max!

"Just thank me so I can leave." He sighed, directly ignoring my question. He obviously had something to hide, and me being…well me, I decided to pry for answers to my question.

"Thank you? In your dreams." I said snidely. "Besides, why would I thank some sketchy guy I met in an Alleyway? Who knows what type of dirty business he could be doing out here!" I said, mockingly appalled. I was taunting him. Hoping, to squeeze more answers out of him. There was no way he could avoid this one! Then…

"Did you just accuse me of being a hooker?" The boy smirked.

My fists clenched, and I glared daggers at him, only to realize we were mere inches away. I jumped back, infuriated and mortified. The boy was smirking openly now, his chest rising and falling in silent chuckles. He was laughing at me! I racked my brain for something, anything to comeback with, but came up empty. I, Maximum Ride, was at a loss for words.

Then suddenly, I felt dizzy, my vision becoming darker and darker by the second.

Eventually, I uttered a lame "…You're an idiot." Before falling to my knees, my hands covered in my own blood. That'sright. I had been SHOT. It's surprisingly easy to forget these things when you're full of adrenaline.

The boy cursed from somewhere above me, and I could feel him hoist me up gently, his arms around me. I tried to brush him away, but my body refused to move.

I was fading fast, unconsciousness threatening to pull me under, and then it all went black.

Whether I was in the darkness for minutes or hours, I couldn't say for sure. Time was meaningless, nonexistent. It was a millisecond and a lifetime all at once. However, eventually, the darkness began to clear, and I found myself looking at an image, blurry at first, then clearer. A memory.

I was seeing myself, as if on a home video, smiling at the breakfast table, picking fun at my sister Ella for something I can't recall now. My mom was making fresh biscuits and bacon in the kitchen, and my dad was reading the Sunday paper. Ella was much smaller and she still had her braces. She was wearing her favorite David Bowie t-shirt proudly. I looked younger, and my hair was shorter, with less sun streaks.

There was something else different about me, about all of us. We seemed happier, more at ease. More alive.

A little boy with short spiked up hair raced into the scene, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. He laughed at himself bashfully then, revealing two missing front teeth. Ari.

With a jolt, I realized what day this was. My heart sped up painfully, each second hurting more than the last.

If I had been able to move in the blackness of unconsciousness, I would have wept. I hated this day. I hated it more than anything else in the world. This was the single day I have spent the rest of my life trying to forget. And now, I was stuck reliving it.

I felt as though my body was being ripped open from the inside out. I wanted to scream, close my eyes and make it all go away. This was killing me. It killed me more than the gunshot could have. That pain was NOTHING compared to this…this torture.

It was a nightmare. And no matter how much I wanted to wake up, I couldn't.

A/N: What do you think guys? I'd really love to hear ALL of your thoughts, good or bad! Help me become a better writer!

Much love, Cassie