Hello readers! I'm back, but sorry for not updating! I am really busy, and pretty stupid for writing three stories at the same time.

Alright, I have a question. Should I focus on one story at a time, and update it once every week or two, or just keep doing it like this, one story at a time?

Tell me in a PM or a review.

Here you go!

"Maximum?" A stern voice asked from behind me. "Is zat you?"

I turned to face a rather large man, with greasy chestnut brown hair and wire glasses. He spoke with a German accent and carried a clipboard that announced it belonged to Dr. Ter Borcht.

I nodded only pausing to put my feet on the ground so I could get up at any time. I don't think this man would be a problem, though. He looks like he has plenty of one thing that I don't. Food.

"Your sister, she has scars. Am I right?" He asked impatiently, tapping his foot on the tiled floor. He was one of the doctors that doesn't care about the patient, he just wants them out so he doesn't have to deal with them anymore. It's quite sad that I can tell that from a minute long conversation.

I shook my head as a no. He didn't need to know about our life. He'll take me away from Angel, put her into foster care and try to set me on my feet. That cannot happen.

I know what the orphanage is like, and it isn't pretty.

"Angel, please hurry up," I pleaded with my seven year old sister. It was cold out and I only had last year's winter coat, and I had outgrown that by a few inches.

The beatings were quickly getting worse, so Angel and I had decided to check out an orphanage.

It would be escape. Finally, we could go to sleep not crying in pain. We could wake up not ready to get a punch in the stomach. I could go out without wondering if I'd die when I returned. I would really be able to protect Angel. That's the main goal.

"I'm trying, Max," She responded, trying to mask the pain in her voice with concentration, but I could hear it loud and clear. "I think Daddy gave me a twisted ankle."

Yes, she still calls those monsters Mommy and Daddy. Well, I am fourteen and she's only seven. She still needs a parental figure. Even I can tell that she's slowly beginning to see the real people they are.

"Alright, we'll go slower," I told her, then slowed my steps to an unbearably slow walk.

Finally, we reached the old brown building that housed alp the parentless children.

I piled up a few old boxes that were lying around and stood on my tiptoes to peak inside.

What I saw wasn't an environment I wanted to expose Angel to.

There were children everywhere, heads bowed, slowly, mechanically eating some type of soup. Three or four adults stood over them, with what looked like rulers cradled in their arms. I was confused about their purpose until a larger boy looked up, and his lips moved.

The ruler slammed down on the table he was seated at, just a mere inch away from his hand.

He flinched, but looked as if this were no ordinary occurrence and sat back down, now silent.

My eyes widened in horror as I realized that orphanages weren't all that they were cracked up to be. Sure, we lived in a Hellhole much worse, but here there was the chance that Angel and I would be separated, and I couldn't take that bet.

I dragged our makeshift ladder to a different window and peered in.

This sight was no prettier.

There were about six bunk beds all pressed up against each other, absolutely no space to breathe. I shuddered as about twelve kids entered and simultaneously squeezed into the small space. Sure, Angel and I were tortured everyday, but this really wasn't that much better.

After looking around the rest of the building we sat about a block away to talk.

Well, we didn't talk. Angel was only seven, so she didn't really get to make this decision, so I let her play with my hair as I thought.

At our present house, there's the chance of pain, and the constant fear. At the orphanage, there's the chance that Angel and I will be separated, and it looks strict and uncomfortable. I'd take the house any day.

With that decision made, we walked back to the house in silence.

"I don't zink you understand," He said sternly. "I know zat your sister has za scars, don't deny it."

I gave him my best glare - which is impressive - and stood, standing at least three inches taller than the round man.

"I don't think YOU understand," I practically hissed, leaning into his face. "My sister and I are absolutely fine. No need for concern, sir," I spat, hissing out the sir.

"Do you zink it's okay to talk to me like zis -" He started to ask but was cut off by a woman's kind and smooth voice.

"Doctor!" She interrupted sharply. "Do you think it's necessary to get in this girl's face?" She asked, pulling me away from the man that was about to shout at me.

He shook his head, not even considering an argument with this woman. I wonder why.

She had flowing blonde hair, soft green eyes, and pale skin. She looked kind, and so far was acting like it, too. I don't see why a stern man like Dr. Ter Borcht couldn't take her on.

"I think you should go check on the patients now. You know, do your job?" She said, a small smirk on her face, as if this were revenge for her. Before I knew it, he had turned on his heel and stalked off.

I looked at my savior and grimaced, my version of a smile. Then I turned to follow in the pudgy man's footsteps. A comforting hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Max," The woman said. "My name is Anne Walker. I'm the head doctor here."

Upon hearing this information I glared and shook her hand off. "You can't call me Max," I told her, ice coating my words.

"I'm sorry," She apologized, keeping her hands stiffly by her sides now. "But we really do need to know about your sister. Where are the scars from?"

I looked at her, sickly sweet. "Come here," I told her earnestly. I didn't want her to think I was crazy, but I could tell she wasn't going to leave me alone unless I made her.

She eagerly put her ear to my mouth, and I cupped my hands so the sound would be magnified. "Do you want to know how I got these scars?" I asked creepily, quoting a movie that was talked about by many boys at school. It was Batman, I knew that much - I don't have much time to watch movies - but I can't tell you what character or what it means. But everybody else I know can, ask the normal kids.

She sighed and backed up, looking at me. I stared back with confusion. Her face wasn't full of anger, or frustration, or anything in that category like I thought it would be. It was full of sorrow, and pain, as if she were sympathetic towards me.

For some reason, that made me feel worse. She shouldn't have the right to feel sorry for me unless she knows what I go through everyday. She cannot sit there and think she is such a good person because she's 'helping' a weak child, when in reality, she's standing by and watching two people get abused. She cannot say that she's a 'savior' or an 'angel' to any of these people, like I know she does. That's what I really hate about adults. They get in your business, but not all the way. So it's like they want to be there for you, but they don't know why they should. If they have the time to wiggle into my life, then they have the time to help me.

With that, I glared and walked away.

MAXIMUM RIDE

"Angel, wake up," I pleaded with the asleep girl. She still refused to stir, keeping her peaceful look. "Come on Angel, I need you."

"You alright?" A dark, husky voice said as a rough, calloused hand placed itself on my shoulder.

"Peachy," I replied, rubbing my fists against my red, tired eyes.

Fang took his seat besides me and rubbed my shoulder. "She will wake up, you know," He told me. "She won't leave you."

I nodded, not knowing whether to believe him or not. I know he isn't a doctor, and he hasn't seen her medical record, but the gesture was still reassuring.

Now that I've let someone in, it makes me feel... better somehow. Safer, as if that's possible.

That still doesn't mean that I'm letting him in all the way. There's always betrayal, and I've experienced enough of that for a lifetime.

My mother, my father, all of those people at the their 'parties' have all betrayed me. My parents have beaten me senseless, I've had children at school rip into me like meat and they're vicious predators, and adults look at me like I'm worthless. I can't have somebody else that I trust do that to me, so I stopped trusting people. It's worked so far, but Fang is a different story.

He seems as if he actually cares. As if he wants to help me. Nobody has ever done that for me. Protected me, helped me, saved me. Nobody.

"Max, do you want to talk?" He asked slowly, as if expecting me to be mad at him for asking. I know I'm not the most calm person you could come across, but I'm not like Jeb or Valencia. I'm definitely not that bad.

"I can't. I can't talk without getting you involved in something that you shouldn't be. You're already too involved as it is," I told him, turning away so I wouldn't have to see the emotion on his face. Well, if there is any. He rarely shows anything through his face.

"Max, you just said it yourself. I'm already involved. Now tell me why this has all been happening, I just want to help you," He said, his voice broken.

And at that exact moment I realized that I wasn't alone. At first I thought I only had Angel, now I'm positive that I have others. Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy... Fang.

Fang is the one that I know doesn't fully understand. Everybody that I've let in understands and is going through what I'm going through. Fang isn't. That's why I'm so hesitant with him. No, hesitant isn't the word. Scared, scared is the word.

Why am I so scared?

Fear isn't a tangible thing, we all know that. It's an emotion, something you feel for someone. Just not in a mushy way.

You may fear ghosts, monsters, a black demon that has haunted you. But when you think about it, those aren't sensible fears. We can easily get rid of fears like that, we just have to face them in, say a haunted house on a crisp autumn night.

If your fear is real, something that should actually be feared, then you have a problem. I'm not going to tell you to simply throw all of your worries away, that would mean all of you're paranoia would be gone, too, and that's the time your enemy would attack. I speak from personal experience.

So what I'm trying to say is, don't be afraid unless you have to be. Don't throw your life away worrying about ghosts or werewolves. Spend it doing things that matter, with a healthy respect towards some things.

MAXIMUM RIDE

"Fang?" I asked after a few minutes of the silence that had overcome the room.

He looked at me expectantly.

"What," I paused, thinking about whether I wanted the answer to this question or not. "What do you think is going to happen to her?"

He obviously knew who 'her' was, so he got straight to thinking.

"I think Angel will wake up if she thinks you need her enough," I opened my mouth to speak, but he put up his index finger shushing me. "If she thinks you're strong enough to go on without her, she'll move on to a happier place."

I nodded once again, taking in his words. This was... startling to think about, and for once, these thoughts weren't scaring me.

I've always thought that I needed Angel, but what if I'm wrong? What if it's better that she moves on, to a happier place? Or at least I hope it's a happier place. She deserves one. Am I really strong enough to take it? Am I really brave enough to live this alone? No, not alone, but without my previous reason for living?

These were all questions I was going to have to think about, and make a decision for.

"Fang you're right," I started, but was cut off by a weak, soft voice.

"Max?"