Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I wake up, and for a moment I've forgotten. For one moment I am just Fang and there is nothing else and it is bliss. Then it comes back. 4 months ago nearly drowning in the lake, hypothermia, waking up in the hospital, so many faces, so many voices. "We were so worried about you". Much to loud. Now? Now I am here, back in my bed, perfectly safe. Completely alive. Therapy session in 2 hours. Yes, therapy. I had narrowly avoided staying in the phsych ward of the hospital for a week. I shudder, remembering, mom's face, "Why did you do it? Why did you try to kill yourself?" Me then, panicking, yelling that I wasn't trying to kill myself, I was trying to drown the voice. Then they sent me off to visit Dr. Lafraugh who suggested that even though I hadn't been trying to kill myself, it would be best if I started seeing someone. So mom made arrangements, therapy with Dr. Martin, every Monday and Friday. The first session hadn't been so bad, had simply asked over and over in different ways how I felt. The more sessions I went to the more Dr. Martin pried. It took her a month to come up with the diagnoses, depression. She told me it is not my fault, it is a chemical imbalance, "We can help you manage it," she decided. So medication was perscribed and I was ordered to keep seeing her. Now, here I am. Perfectly safe, completely alive, and not so sure that I am entirely happy about it.

Mom drives me to Dr. Martins office which is about 30 minutes away. This leavesplenty of time for us to talk. "I'll be home tonight," says mom, "I have a thing." By thing she means a meeting with a group of fellow feminists in which they listen to empowering women music and think of ways to defend their rights. Mom has been through one bad breakup and on bad divorce. The breakup was my fault, mom was young when she got pregnant with me and her boyfriend ran away at the first sign of pregnancy. She got married to a guy named Daniel, and that is when Angel and Gazzy came to be. They divorced shortly after Angels birth for reasons I don't really understand. Now mom is completely anti-men.

"Daphne is coming over to babysit, Gazzy, and, Angel," mom continues, "And Valencia has invited you over to her house for the night." Valencia is Max's mom. I don't fail to notice how she's said that it was Valencia and not Max who's invited me over. Max and I have had a rocky relationship ever since the accident. Max wants me to talk to her, wants me to trust her and let her help me. She doesn't understand there is nothing she can do, and it makes her angry, which, in turn, makes me angry.

"Well, we're here," mom announces as she parks the car. "Here" is a small garage sized building, office. Before I have the chance to do anything, mom is getting out of the car and walking around to open my door for me. I blink slowly, "Thanks." This, is just another side effect of the accident. Mom has started treating me like a child, like I am not capable of handling myself.

We head into the building and I start getting a twisting, nervous feeling that I get before every session. "Mom, I'm going to be sick."

Mom wrinkles her nose, "You're fine. It's just a small session today. Then we'll go out for breakfast and I'll drop you off at school in time for lunch." I'm trying to calm myself down, I really am. I can't walk in there on the verge of what calls a panic attack, otherwise the session may be extended.

Mom leads me to the room where the sessions take place. It is a comfy room with poofy chairs, dark curtains, and a fire place that didn't actually work. Dr. Martin had told me once that if she gives her clients a comfortable setting then the clients themselves would be more comfortable talking to her. I am not to sure that her theory checks out. I take my place in my chair and mom says she'll see me soon and then I am alone. I fidget, I rub my sweating hands on my pants, I try not to concentrate on the voice which is currently telling me about how crazy I must be. The door opens, and in steps , A small but demanding women.

"Hello, Fang," she greets and takes her seat. She sits up straight in her chair, as she always does, and doesn't comment on my slouching, as she never has.

"Hey," I reply.

"How are you today?" She asks, this is always the first question she asks. It lulls me into a false sense of security, makes me think that the session will be alright.

"Fine."

Then she gets straight to it," Look, I feel as though we shouldn't waste out time or your mother's money today." I flinch at the part about wasting my mothers money, which is ofcourse exactly what I'm doing. "Instead of tiptoeing around the problem I really do think we should talk about your friend," What? "The voice." Oh.

I shake my head, no, "It isn't my friend. I don't want to talk about."

"Fine," she she says calmly, "I can't force you to. If you won't talk I think it would be best to cut this session short. Please reconsider your choice, I will see you on Monday." She proceeds to get up and hold the door open for me.

I try very hard not to seem miffed as I walk out of the room, down the hall and to my mother who gives me a bewildered look."Let's go," I say, and we do.

Lunch time at school is a very tedious task. It consists of me sitting at a table in the middle of a crowded cafeteria with Max, Max's friend Nudge, and Iggy who, like Max, is a childhood friend. "Fuh- Aang, why are you so grumpy?" Iggy whines, after I deny him access to my french fries.

"He's always grumpy on Friday's," Max interjects, I glare at her.

"Nah, Iggy just shouldn't be trying to steal his food," Nudge offers helpfully. She hates conflict.

"Oh pish posh, Fang, here just needs to loosen up. He's getting all old and wrinkly at the mere age of 16." Now I am glaring at Iggy.

"We can't all spend our free time watching cartoons, Iggy."

Iggy scoffs, "Anime, Fang. It's call anime."

"Nuh-uh, you watch that one show that is totally a cartoon, and it's for children."

"Nudge!" Iggy gasps, looking genuinely offended, "Avatar is not a kids show. How dare you degrade it." I am sure he could've gone off on a full on rant, but he stops himself, "Anyways, back to, Fang, turning into an old man. Dude, you really do need to have some fun. There's a party tonight at, Sam's, and we're going."

Nudge squeals, Max glares, I try to look like the idea doesn't terrify me. A crowded house full of drunk people? That does not sound fun at all. "You are not," Max states.

"Yes, we are. Or atleast Iggy and I are," As much as the idea of a party scares me, the idea of denying Max is almost to tempting.

Max scowls and I am instantly satisfied with my decision, "Fine. Then I'm going with you," is what she says, but I know she really means "I am going to keep an eye on you."

Nudge is squealing some more and rambling on about what she's going to wear and how she just cannot wait to dress Max up. I'm not really listening, I am to busy hoping that I don't regret this choice.

I want to hide in a closet, or a hole. Whichever comes first. The party has not been a good idea. To many people, to many sounds, only one me. Iggy keeps patting me on the back insisting that I calm down and talk to people. There is no sign of Max or Nudge.

"Fang, man, relax. You like this song right?" Asks Iggy as a song that is nothing but computerized beats blares through the radio. "Not really."

Iggy sighs, "You're kind of just defeating the purpose in bringing you here. Sit," he points to a couch, "I'll be right back." So I sit, and Iggy disappears into the crowd. I am left to wonder how even though I am surrounded by people, I feel completely alone. This leads me into more thoughts about loneliness and life. I am not having fun.

Iggy returns quickly with two red cups in hand."Here," he holds a cup out to me, I take it and frown at the contents.

"Iggy, I don't drink."

Iggy shrugs, "Neither do I," He takes a gulp of his drink. "Tastes horrible. You'll like it," he assures me.

4, maybe 5, possibly 6 cups of beer later I am starting to understand why people like this stuff. I don't enjoy the taste, I enjoy how I feel. For lack of better words, warm and a little fuzzy. No longer scared of all the people. I'm starting to maybe have a little fun when I spot Max. She looks pretty. Not drop dead pretty, but just "wow" pretty.

"Max!" I shout when I see her. She looks around, trying to locate me. I go to her. "Max," I say again, " I miss you."

Max frowns, what did I do wrong? Why is Max always frowning? "Fang, are you drunk?"

"Mmm, I dunno." What does being drunk feel like?

"Oh, Fang, your mom is going to kill you."

Why does Max have to be such a spoilsport? "Shush. It was just a few."

Max looks very tired now, "What am I going to do with you?"

"We could dance."

"You hate dancing, Fang."

"You hate dancing."

"Yes, yes I do."

I laugh. Max rolls her eyes, "Time to go home."

"Aw. Are we gonna drive?" I am sad, I really was just starting to enjoy the party."Fang, we can't drive. We're walking." I groan. "It's like a 10 minute walk from here to my house. Suck it up."

And so I do. We escape the party and we walk to Max's house in the middle of the night and talk about things like how Max wants to join the soccer team, and how I think Angel is getting a dog for her birthday. For those 10 minutes it feels like our friendship had never strayed. For the first time since the accident I have the smallest bit of hope that maybe things will be okay.

AN I don't like this chapter. I rewrote it a bunch of times and I can't get it right.

Thank you for the reviews favorites and follows. It's nice to know that what I wrote wasn't completely horrible.