Hello readers! It's been a long time, hasn't it? Sorry, I just ran out of inspiration for a little while and then my brain was like, "BAM IDEA!" So... here's another chapter.

And I have an idea. I already have another chapter written for this story, so if I get five more reviews for my Hunger Games story, There's Mlre Than One Side To A Story, I'll post it this week.

Sound fair?

Alright, now enjoy the chapter.

"No, Angel, that's not true!" Came Fang's voice. I was back in the dreaded hospital, now with the duffel bag of supplies.

There was a weak giggle. "Alright, I get it," I could hear Angel say, humor in her voice. "You're in denial!"

I gave a rare smirk as Fang denied being in denial. "Angel, I'm not in denial. I'm not in love with Max either!"

The smirk dropped from my face. That's what they were arguing about? Fang being in love with me? That can't be right. Fang is merely a friend that has given up practically his life style for me. He has given up his home and friends and time for me. That's what normal friends do, right? It's not like I would know, I've never had a friend to help out.

So, instead of walking in and asking questions like I should have done, I continued to stand outside the door and listen for further information.

"Alright..." Angel let her sentence trail off, obviously giving more meaning to the word.

Fang gave a grunt, probably annoyed and done with the conversation, and then silence.

Well, I guess it's now my turn to break the silence.

"Hi," I greeted quietly as I entered the room. "I got our stuff." I held up the duffel bag as evidence.

Angel smiled and asked, "Did you get my trophy?"

It took all of my effort not to sit down and cry. Angel had won that trophy back when she was five and on the winning soccer team. I remember it like it was yesterday. Actually, that isn't a good way to put it. Usually I have been hit in the head multiple times before nightfall, so I don't have the best memory of yesterday. Let's say I remember it clearly.

Wind whistled through my hair, blowing small strands of it around. I chuckled as I saw Angel with the same problem.

I was on a sideline, settled into a lawn chair, enjoying Angel's game. It was the championship—although I was unsure of why they had a championship for such young children—and Angel was determined to win.

She stood on the field, running back and forth, obviously unsure of what to do.

She would run to the sideline to look confusedly at her coach, then back to the ball before any answer could be given.

I believe the score was tied, either three to three or four to four. There was a few moments left in the game, and Angel wanted desperately to score a goal. She had told me before we had left while she laced up her cleats. "Max, when I get that trophy," I smiled at her certainty of winning, "I'll give it to you."

I had smiled and rubbed her head, effectively messing up her hair.

Now I saw her determination and desperation to win. It was cute, actually. Angel is a five year old, but she can do practically anything when she wants to.

The other team took a shot on net. It spun a little too far to the right and hit the post, making a clanging sound. I guess Angel saw that as her chance, because before you knew it she had the ball at her feet and was sprinting up the sideline, a look of pure joy and accomplishment on her face.

"Go Angel!" I stood up and shouted, and I smiled as my parents did the same. It was a wary smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Right past the defenders, all the way to the six yard line. Finally, she swung her left foot back and struck the ball, watching in wonderment as it flew right through the goalie's legs and into the goal.

Her tiny fists pumped in the air and she smiled to herself, before giving a victorious cheer to everyone, and we all returned it.

They played for about thirty seconds after that, but the other team was unable to come close to scoring a goal in such short time.

A whistle was blown, signaling the end of the game.

"See Max!" Angel boasted afterwards, holding the golden plastic trophy. "Here it is." She handed me her prize with a smile.

"Angel," I protested, pushing it away, "I don't need this, you earned it."

She shook her head, "No, I told you it was yours and I don't break promises." She stiffened her upper lip and set her jaw, giving me the look she saved when she intended to get exactly what she wanted.

"Alright," I said, giving in and accepting the prize.

She gave me a smile along with it, and I returned it without hesitating, along with our parents.

God, I wish I could smile with our family again.

I wish a lot of things. I wish that Angel was okay and we could leave this awful place. I wish that I could just figure out my feelings for Fang. I wish that my parents didn't freaking abuse me.

But obviously, we don't always get what we wish for. In fact, it happens quite rarely unless your dream is reasonable. My wish is not. My parents are so lost from reality and humanity that it is ridiculous to think that they would ever stop harming us, Angel and I. So I think I'll change my wish, to something much more within reach.

I wish that I could just leave. Take Angel's hand and pull her away from all this. We'd be travelers. California, Texas, heck, I'd take her to South America if that's what she wanted. It'd take me away, too. Not just from the obvious problem of abuse, but from the challenge and confusion of Fang. Is he with Brigid? Is he actually going to save us from this? Does he love me like Angel asked?

I don't know, and honestly, I don't want to stick around to find out. But I don't have a choice. I'll keep my dream as it is now, a dream. It'll give me something to look forward to, something to work for. But maybe, just maybe, someday that dream will be reality. I hope so.

"Yes," I finally answered. "I got it."

Her smile shone through the gray, dismal clouds that were my day, giving me rays of sunlight. I wish she could smile like that all the time. Maybe if she did, I'd give a real smile. Those are hard to come by these days, a real smile.

"Good. I actually like that trophy."

She was leaning back against the pillows, but she obviously had more strength than when I had left. I don't know how, but she was returning to normal faster than the doctors thought she would. They said that there would be no noticeable changes in her for at least a week. It may just be because I know her better than anyone on this planet, but I see changes. The way she doesn't tiredly close her eyes after a sentence, how she actually looks at you instead of following the light with he eyes. It may be hard to notice, but the changes are there.

"Me too."

Fang shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I'm not sure what had caused his discomfort, the fact that Angel had pestered him about his love for me, or he just didn't know what we were talking about.

I'd like to think it's the latter.

We fell into silence next. Angel found that as the perfect moment to sleep, she needed a nap. I couldn't really count on Fang to keep up a conversation, considering he has the people skills of a brick. So, I resorted to my mind. My safe haven. My brain. The place where every move is planned.

But to have plans, you must first have details. And right now, I have none of those. I don't know when Angel is getting out, I don't know how long we'll be able to stay with Fang, I don't even know if I'll ever see my parents again. The scary part is that I don't want to.

"Oh," A very familiar voice sounded out from the hallway. A very familiar German voice. Yes, Ter Borcht is back. "You are all still here." He said this with displeasure, almost sadness in his voice. It was as if he wanted us gone so he'd have the chance to run wild through the halls, rolling Angel's hospital bed in front of him. I wanted to laugh at the image of the serious man prancing through the halls with a ten year old girl. But I don't think I'd be able to laugh if I tried.

"Yes, I think I should be here with my ten year old sister that was just in a coma." Even I was surprised by the bitter sarcasm in my voice.

Ter Borcht waved me off. "So, have you decided to let us run da tests yet?"

Angel shook her head. "I'm fine." Her voice surprised me for a moment, I didn't know she had woken up.

Again, the man gave us each an ice cold glare before leaving, muttering something about idiocy to himself.

Silence. The dripping of an IV bag. Angel's heavy breaths. Those were the sounds consuming the room. It was the loudest silence I've ever heard.

"Max?"

I turned.

"When can I leave this place?"

Fang decided to step in on this question. "Angel, you have to understand," He began reasonably. "You were very hurt and you have to stay in the place that will help you."

I took a deep breath. "Yea, Fang's right."

She huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms. "It's scary here." She thought about her sentence for a few seconds. "Well, not as scary as ho–"

"Angel!" I interrupted loudly, glancing quickly between my two companions. Fang was already close to figuring out our predicament, I don't need Angel to announce it to the world.

"Sorry." She laid back on the pillows, looking exhausted.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" I suggested, pulling the cheap hospital blankets to her chin. "You look like you need it."

She didn't answer me, just closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. I knew she wasn't asleep yet. When she's asleep, the muscles in her face relax and she stops twitching her left foot. Right now I can see the barely visible movement from under the blanket and her face is all scrunched up. It's kind of adorable how she's trying so hard.

I can't talk while she's still awake. I know it's wrong to be keeping more from her, but she just awoke from a coma. She doesn't need this.

Finally, her face relaxed and she was still. It was eerily quiet, and it reminded me of the time not so long ago when I'd sit by her and wish her awake, right by this hospital bed.

"Fang," I whispered urgently, knowing that if my voice rose above a whisper Angel would wake up. And this is probably one of the only chances I'll get alone with Fang. And we're not even really alone.

"I need to talk to you."

He seemed to get that Angel couldn't hear this, because he leaned closer and whispered, "Start talking."

"Alright, whatever you think is going on at home," I winced at that word. I don't really have a home. "It's not. Our parents are just fighting a lot and we think they're getting divorced." Well, that was half true. Our parents were fighting us a lot. Does that count?

"Yea?" He replied, scarily emotionless. It gave me the thought that he didn't believe me.

"Yea."

"How does that explain the bruises and scars all over you, Max?" He asked, with no anger in his voice, it almost sounded like concern.

"I tripped down a flight of stairs. That's all."

"Max, tripping, even down stairs, doesn't cut you up like a ribbon. Somebody must be doing this to you. Are you cutting?" He asked, again with the weird concern in his voice.

"No!" I replied almost immediately. I can't stand the cutting rumors about me. We all know they'd stop and care about me if they knew what was going on. But they don't. So they hurt me even more than I already am hurt. "I would never!"

"Alright," He let the sentence trail off. "I'm not going to pry you open, Max. I just want to help you."

"Funny," I murmured. "Seems like nobody wants to do that anymore."

He didn't answer me. He seemed to be thinking, and I think I know what's in his head.

"Maximum Ride?"

I whipped my head around, looking wildly for the speaker until I realized it was just the intercom.

"There's a visitor for Maximum Ride. Can Maximum Ride please report to the lobby?"

"Watch her," I commanded Fang. "If I come back and they're running tests, you don't want to know what I'll do." I hated being scary like that, but Fang is one of those people that like to think alone. And if Angel's with him, he's not alone. So he'd probably leave her to go think. I can't have that happening.

My footsteps echoed in my ears. It was almost comforting, the echoey sound amidst all the loud shouts of doctors, or people talking loudly in the hallway. It made me feel like I could stand out from them.

"You said there was a visitor for Maximum Ride?" I asked politely once I was at the front desk.

"Yes, he's right over there," The woman told me kindly, pointing a finger.

My eyes traced the direction she was pointing in and I saw the last person I ever wanted to see.

Dylan.

"Hey baby, you wanna go outside?"