Priest: We are here today to mourn the loss of Sanity Still-not-telling-you, death by mushiness. She was a wonderful daughter, terrific friend, beautiful author, great creator-
Tank: *cough* Ha! *cough*
Priest: *glares* Kind kidnapper-
JP: *cough* Not. *cough*
Priest: ALRIGHT! That's it! You people are to disrespectful of the dead!
Me: *rises from coffin* Yeah! I'm dead here, and you're making fun of my life style!
Crowd at ny funeral: AH! *faints*
Me: Now it's time for a . . .
Disclamaaaa': I still don't own anything! WHEN?
Max
I laid in my bed, opening and closing my locket. Open, close. Open, close. Snap, snap. One side had a more recent picture of Angel. The other had a picture of a half-grinning Fang. I kept it open and continued to look at him. He looked happy. I hated it. I hated him. He broke my heart. And when hearts break, they don't break even. They shatter into a million pieces, like glass or crystal.
Usually, I'd draw or paint or sketch to keep my mind off of this, but my drawings and paintings were all really depressing. My latest was a girl in a tattered black cloak, cloak blowing in the wind. Her head was down, her hands in front of her, holding a staff. A red stone was on the top of the staff, shaped like a heart. It was cracking. The staff wasin the center of a white heart, and that was breaking in half. Depressing stuff.
Nick was leaving tomorrow. He was going home to Colorado, where he'd be out of my life. The problem was I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about it. I hated him; he had taken my heart, chopped it into little pieces, put it in his bacon, and ate it for breakfast. But I loved Fang; I loved him with all of whatever was left of my heart. They were the same person, but they weren't.
I hate emotions. They twist around you battle with each other, until you don't know what to do any more. How you feel. Who you feel it to. Why you feel it.
"Alright, if you're going to stay up here moping, we have some serious work to do."
"Hi, Nudge," I said and closed the locket.
"How ya doing, Max?" Ella asked and plopped on the bed next to me. I noticed she had a tub of ice cream in her arms.
I shrugged. "Fine, I guess."
Nudge poked my side. "Liar. You wouldn't be up here without . . . all alone if you were fine."
I rolled onto my back. "So what are you doing here?"
Ella grinned. "We brought a therapy session."
I raised an eyebrow, and she held up the tub of chocolate ice cream. Nudge held up a stack of movies.
I sighed. "Alright. Fatten me up, then you can eat me for dinner."
Ella slapped the back of my head, and Nudge hopped off the bed and walked to my TV. She put in the DVD, grabbed the remote, and sprinted back to the bed. She hopped on and said, "Are you ready for this?"
I nodded, opened the container of ice cream, and put the spoon in the chocolaty-ness. Time for therapy.
And guess what? Best. Therapy. EVER. Mental illness? Buy chocolate ice cream and horror movies. Kleptomaniac? Steal some chocolate. Bipolar? Have mood swings over chocolate. Paranoid? Worry about your enemies over chocolate. Chocolate fixes everything.
Most of the time. You're still pissed off, though. Always mad? Go buy a punching bag.
"Go crawl under a rock and die, you bastard!" I yelled and threw the remote at the TV. It bounced off of the screen and landed on the wood floor with crack.
He had cheated on his girlfriend, then denied it when she brought it up. DIE. BASTARD. DIE.
I hugged the pillow to my chest and buried my face in it, fighting back tears. Just like Nick.
"Max . . ." Ella said, trailing off.
"Just go," I said.
"Max, please," Nudge said.
"Leave. Please."
The weight on the bed shifted, and I heard my door close.
I cried then. All the hurt I had felt came back to me. The betrayal. The sting. How my heart had shattered. How I had seen it. All fresh in my mind. AGAIN.
The worst thing about crying is when you're done, you feel awkward in your own skin. Like you want to shed it and grow a new one. But I'd have to settle with changing clothes.
Fang
I decided to take my dad's advice. On the last day I was here. It had taken me a while to get the guts, alright? Max was freaking scary. I've seen what she can do pissed off.
I walked out of the kitchen and into the room that had the stairs to Max's room, just in time for Nudge and Ella to come down.
Ella glared at me, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and said, "Where do you think you're going?"
"Talk to Max," I mumbled.
"No, you're not," Nudge said and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"I already told you I didn't do anything." I was losing my patience.
"So?" Ella asked. "You still hurt her."
I glared at her, but she held strong. She glared right back. I glared harder, and she flinched. I smirked, but she went back to glaring.
"We're giving you five minutes," Nudge said, grabbed Ella's elbow, and dragged her away. I sense an argument going on between the two.
I climbed the stairs to Max's room. I didn't even bother knocking, because I knew she'd either a) throw something at me, b) throw something at me, or c) call me a dick head and throw something at me. All of the options didn't sound too good.
So, I just walked in on her. Without a shirt on. And she was facing me this time.
"Shit," I muttered. "Sorry."
"Why?" she asked, her voice hollow. I flinched at the sound of it. "You've seen me without clothes on before, Nick."
I flinched at her using my real name. She had only cause me Nick a few times before, and it sounded odd coming off of her lips, the voice I thought I knew so empty.
"Um . . ." I trailed off, not knowing what to do.
"Well? Out with it," she spat. She reached out and her hand found a stray shirt. She pulled it over her head, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Before I kill you."
"Max, can you just listen to me?"
"Why listen when I know what I saw?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. I noticed they were red and puffy, like she had been crying. Besides that, they had bags under them, from lack of sleep.
"Because what you didn't see what you think you did." That sounded weird.
"I'm not blind, nor am I insane, Nicholas. I know what I saw."
"Max, I-" I reached for her arm, but she stepped back.
"Don't touch me," she spat.
My arm drifted to my side. "If you would just listen, Max . . ." She didn't say anything, so I took that as a sign to keep going. "I'm leaving tomorrow, Max. I don't want to go without you getting it out of your head that I cheated on you."
"I guess you're leaving without your hope fulfilled," she said.
"I didn't do anything," I said.
"So I've heard. Iggy told me. I still don't believe you."
"I know you don't, Max," I said. "But just try." I ducked my head down and kissed her forehead, without any complaints.
"You can leave now," Ella's voice said behind me. I looked, and she stood glaring at me next to the door. How had she gotten here so silently?
I nodded, walked back to the door, and down stairs.
Max
I laid on my bed, listening to Over and Over by Three Days Grace. I think it fit my life right now.
I feel it everyday
It's all the same
It brings me down
But I'm the one to blame
I've tried everything to get away
So here I go again
Chasing you down again
Why do I do this?
Over and over, over and over
I fall for you
Over and over, over and over
I try not to
It feels like everyday stays the same
It's dragging me down again and I can't pull away
So here I go again
Chasing you down again
Why do I do this?
Over and over, over and over
I fall for you
Over and over, over and over
I try not to
Over and over, over and over
You make me fall for you
Over and over, over and over
You don't even try
So many thoughts that I can't even get out of my head
I try to live without you, everytime I feel so dead
I know what's best for me
But I want you instead
I'll keep on wasting all my time
Over and over, over and over
I fall for you
Over and over, over and over
I try not to
Over and over, over and over
You make me fall for you
Over and over, over and over
You don't even try to . . .
I rolled onto my side and stared at the wall. Was there a crack in there? Why was the crack growing? The crack in my wall grew upwards, towards the ceiling. It looked like a tree, with it's branches intertwined with each other. It was cracking . . . the room was falling down . . . falling down on top of me . . .
I woke with a start. It was just a dream, just a dream. But Over and Over was playing on my iPod. I paused it, and took my ear buds out. A truck rumbled, and I heard tires roll over gravel. I flopped back down onto my bed, and closed my eyes, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep into my system. About thirty minutes later, three things clicked: One) I wasn't going to sleep any more. Two) Fang had just left for the airport. And three) I still loved him.
Fang
"Are you ready to go?" Anne asked from the front door.
I looked at the stairway to Max's room. She wasn't coming. "Yeah," I replied.
Anne put a hand on my shoulder. "Fang. She still loves you. It's just hard for her. Ya know."
I nodded, but doubted she still loved me. It was hard to believe.
"C'mon," Iggy said beside me. "Youdon't want to miss your flight."
"Yeah, I do," I said.
He sighed. "I know, dude. I know."
I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the front door. We walked to Anne's black SUV (Cliche much?), and the got into the front seat. Iggy took the back, and Anne was driving. Before we completely pulled out of range of the house, I looked back at Max's window. She wasn't looking out.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the - guess what? - head rest. I was tired, heart broken, and was just ready to get home. See my mom again. Talk to my friends. But it would never feel right without Max. It would all be unbalanced.
They say duct tape fixes everything, but it doesn't fix a broken heart.
A song came onto the radio. It was one of those songs I would usually label 'A sappy, mushy musician singing about his broken heart. Wimp.' but now, it fitted my life.
It was about how the heart doesn't break even. This guy might have a career ahead of him.
I must have fallen asleep to the song, because when I woke up, Iggy was shaking my shoulder.
"C'mon," he said. I rubbed my eyes and slung my black duffel bag over my shoulder.
We were at the gate, and Iggy and I did the hand clasp thing that guys count as hugs.
"E-mail me or something," he said, grinning. "I'll see if I can get Max to."
I smiled. "Thanks, man. That means a lot to me."
"You owe me. Big time."
"Yeah, I know."
Anne said, "Alright. Fang, tell your dad I said hi."
"Will do," I replied.
"And don't give your mom too much trouble. I know they have guns in the house." She smiled. "I wouldn't want you to die or anything."
"Got it. No dying."
She gave me a hug, while I just stayed still, shocked by it. She pulled back, and smiled at me.
"Last call for the flight to Colorado," the flight attendant woman said.
"Go on," she and Iggy said at the same time.
I walked to the tarmac. Just before I was about to put my foot into it, alarms started to go off. I turned around, and my jaw practically hit the ground.
It couldn't be . . .
But there she was, blond hair flying after her, feet pounding the ground.
"Fang," she said and launched herself at me, her lips on mine. I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she put her arms on my shoulders. She pulled back slightly, her lips still slightly grazing mine. "I am so sorry. I-"
"No," I said tightening my arms around her waist. "I'm sorry."
"I don't care which one of us is sorry," she replied. "Just kiss me, you bastard."
I grinned and pressed my lips against hers. She kissed me back. It was fantastic.
Someone cleared their throat, and a male voice said, "Ma'am, you're going to have to come with us."
Max pulled back from me, and I opened my eyes. Anne pulled out her F.B.I badge, and flashed it to the airport cop. "I don't think this will be a problem, will it?"
"Ma'am. All suspects of possible terrorist attacks are subject to interrogation."
Max glared at him and said, "Fuck off."
I grinned. That's my Max.
I had planned on this being the last chapter, but I found that just too cruel. So, instead, there's probably going to be one more chapter.
Skid: Whenever you come up with an idea.
Me: But I already have an idea.
Tank: Uh-huh. Sure you do.
Me: I do! JP, do you believe me?
JP: No.
Me: AHH! You people are impossible!
Girl from scary movie three, the good one: I believe you.
Me: . . . Really?
Good girl gone bad: No!
- Sanity trying to deflect attacks from evil girl