Some days were better than others.

She pretended not to care that Velma hadn't tried to contact her by the time she'd been living with Corny for a few weeks. It didn't matter, anyway. There was nothing Velma could have said or done to make up for the way she'd treated her while she'd lived at home. There was nothing either of them could have said to mend the broken relationship between them. She had already accepted the fact that she was dead to the woman who had raised her.

Corny had taken the initiative to go back into her house and get her things, and for that, Amber was grateful. She wasn't exactly eager to see either Chip or her mother again, and certainly didn't want to caught just because she decided to rescue the beautiful dresses she'd grown so accustomed to wearing. She'd worn the same dress for two days in a row simply because she was too afraid to even ask Corny to go back in there for her. When he'd offered to do it without her asking, she'd accepted, but had secretly been terrified that he would never come home, if Chip got a hold of him.

Amber had taken an indefinite leave of absence from the show, because it was easier that way. It was easier not to have to look at her mother, not to have to answer her questioning glares. It was better not to have to deal with the accusatory stares of some of the council girls, because she still wasn't completely sure whether or not they knew she was living with Corny. Although she saw them at school every day, there were only a select few that she even spoke to. She imagined that the fact that she was no longer on the show pleased most of the girls, because Shelley and Tammy seemed to take a genuine interest in her again, and Amber assumed it had something to do with the fact that since she'd left, Shelley had taken over as lead dancer. It was a good thing, though, since Link and Tracy had become extremely close, and he had begun to sit with her at lunch. Now, Amber sat nestled between Shelley and Tammy at the lunch table.

The girls didn't know what was happening, but they knew something was wrong. When they would ask why she left the show, she would tell them it was because she had hurt her ankle falling down the stairs, and it hurt her to even walk on it, much less dance. Both of them realized that she didn't even have a slight limp. Amber knew she wasn't fooling anyone, but they were left in the dark, and that was all that mattered. They hadn't caught onto the painful game she was playing, and as long as they were completely clueless about it, it served her well. It wasn't completely untrue, anyway. She was broken; she had simply learned how to hold herself together in public.

She had been sleeping better at night, but when she woke up in the morning, she was still exhausted. Her eyes would droop all day at school, and when she returned to their home after school, she would often sleep until Corny got home at around six-thirty. She knew it probably wasn't healthy to spend so much time in bed, especially since he had allowed her to live here so that she could begin to rebuild her life, and she hadn't taken any steps to doing that yet. She hadn't even begun to look for a part-time job, hadn't taken any steps to becoming the person she had used to be. Still, part of her was so afraid to do just that. She was afraid to leave the house, with Corny, without Corny. She was afraid to make any sort of decision for herself, because she wasn't completely sure that her mind was functioning properly.

She stirred out of her sleep early one morning, before the sun had even begun to rise, and her eyes fluttered open to look at the soft moonlight that streamed in through the thin curtains that covered the windows. She let herself rest in the quiet of the room, her heart swollen at the fact of how beautiful, how heavenly this place looked. It was true; Corny was her angel, and this place was her heaven.

She pulled her blankets to her chin, snuggling her head into their warmth. It wasn't enough though; she wasn't tired, for the first time in a long time. She didn't want the comfort of these blankets; she wanted the comfort of another person. She slipped her feet out of bed suddenly, and pulled the comforter off the bed, wrapping it around her as she moved toward her bedroom door. Her fingers worked to unlock it; she couldn't get out of the habit of locking the door. She'd done it for far too long, and now it was a self-preservation technique that she had adapted into an almost compulsive nightly ritual. She shuffled down the hall and stood outside Corny's bedroom door for a moment; he always left it open for her, in case she needed him in the middle of the night. She could see inside, and make out his form beneath the blankets. As badly as she wanted to speak to him, to have some sort of human contact, she felt guilty. She'd already moved in here and interrupted his life; she had already made it impossible for him to bring anyone back to his house for fear of them discovering his lead dancer, or former lead dancer, was living with him.

She stood for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, and started to turn, her bare feet beginning to pad down the hall.

"Amber?" She heard his voice, full of sleep, calling for her. She took a quiet breath and looked back in at him. His dark hair was mussed, and he was studying her, his blue eyes narrowed as he tried to make out her form in the dark of early morning.

"Yes?" Her voice was so soft; she knew she should have just gone back to her bed and let him sleep, but she felt so alone, suddenly so vulnerable that she wanted to be near him.

"Are you okay?" She watched as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and she nodded silently. He propped himself up on his arms and watched her for a moment, "Can't sleep?"

She nodded again, hugging the comforter tighter around her, and she watched him nod, and then shift.

"Can I come in?" She asked softly, and he nodded in response. She shuffled to the chair across the room, collapsing into it and curling her feet up beneath her. She huddled beneath the blanket, her eyes watching him in the darkness, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, his back against the headboard of his bed.

"Anything wrong?" His voice was soft, and she could hear the sleep in his voice. She swallowed.

"I just…got lonely." She felt so small saying the words, and pulled her blanket around her, inhaling the smell that she had come to love so much. It was a perfect blend of her perfume, and Corny's cologne; it was feminine and delicate, and masculine and strong.

"Well, seeing as though I asked you to move in here so that you wouldn't feel so lonely, I feel like I'm not doing a very good job." He chuckled softly, though something told her that it was more from discomfort than actual humor.

"Oh," she sighed softly, "no, Corny, that's not it. I'm…I mean, I just can't stop thinking." They sat in the darkness for a long time, the moonlight gradually changing to the first rays of morning sun. Amber cleared her throat gently. "I feel like I'm drowning, Corny." She swallowed hard, the burn of fresh tears in her eyes, "I mean, it's like I'm underwater, like I'm fighting for my breath, and I'm trying to come back up, but at the same time, I don't want to. Like, I don't even really care, because, I mean…what is there to even come back up for?"

She saw him move from his position on the bed until he sat perched on the edge, mere inches from where she sat in the chair. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. She felt strange suddenly, seeing him in a t-shirt and lounge pants. It was too surreal. She'd spent hundreds, no, thousands, of days right there next to him, dancing, sweating. But now, they were here, in his bedroom, in their pajamas, and he was mere inches away from her. She was uncomfortable suddenly, and shifted in the chair. It was a little unnerving to be so close to a man that was at least ten years older than her, especially in these circumstances. When she saw his eyes meet hers in the dim light of the room, though, she suddenly felt at ease again.

"You have to come up for air," the worried lines creased his forehead again, "When someone is waiting for you at the top, you always have to come back up. I'm waiting for you to come back up, Amber."

She felt the lump in her throat at his words, and nodded speechlessly. He sat back then, and she let her eyes dance around the room, sighing softly. She pushed the blanket away from her slowly, and folded her hands in her lap.

"You know," he cleared his throat, "You really should call your mother, Amber. You should let her know that you're okay."

"She doesn't care how I am," Amber snapped back at him. "If she cared, I wouldn't be here in the first place."

He knew that her words were true, but continued to push.

"She asked about you." He wasn't completely sure why he said the words, but as soon as they slipped from between his lips, he regretted them.

"That doesn't sound like her," she replied coolly a moment later, and he could see that she had begun to wring her hands, "Is that true, Corny?"

There was a long moment of silence between them, and he sighed finally.

"No."

She nodded in the darkness.

"I didn't think so."

"I'm sorry," he spoke a moment later, feeling somewhat intimidated and guilty for his previous lie, "I just really think you should call her. I think she'd probably like to know that you're okay. She knows that you're living with me, Amber, you know I had to tell her."

"I can't call her," she knew her tone was harsh, but couldn't pretend to care, "If I call her, Chip might answer the phone. I don't want him to know where I am." She tried to keep her voice from breaking, but ended up chewing on her lower lip to stifle a quiet sob.

He let the matter drop, and she sniffed loudly.

"It's just…I try to stop being so mad. I try to stop hating him, I try to stop being so angry. It's just hard." She was speaking aimlessly now, and her voice dropped to a whisper, "I don't want to be mad forever, Corny."

"The anger won't last forever, Amber. It fades eventually. But do you want to know what I think?"

She looked toward him, then nodded twice.

"I think you should stay mad as long as you can…because when you stop being mad, it's going to start hurting like hell."

She doubted anything could hurt worse than that, worse than when he'd hit her, or raped her. Still, she let herself listen to Corny's words.

She shifted suddenly, and let her hand reach up to brush her hair from her face, sighing as she pushed the blonde tendrils behind her ear. His eyes caught her face suddenly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"What's that?" His gaze was locked on her forehead, and she stared back at him.

"What's what?"

"That scar," he responded softly, "Did Chip give you that scar?"

"Oh, no," she wiped her fingers over her forehead, skimming them over the scar that couldn't have been more than an inch in length. "No, that's one of the few things he didn't do to me. I fell on a brick when I was two," she explained unnecessarily.

"I've never seen it before," he was quiet, and studied her face.

"No," she sighed softly, "You wouldn't have. My mother always makes me wear my hair over it." She swallowed hard, "She said that scar made me damaged goods." If only she knew what Chip had done to her, she'd be ready to throw her out with the trash.

"Well," he cleared his throat gently, "Don't wear your hair over it anymore. Scars make you who you are; they give you character."

"Well then I guess I'm overflowing with character," she nodded.

They sat in the quiet of the slowly brightening room for a long time, and Corny finally sighed, standing up.

"Let me make us some breakfast before I leave for work, okay?" He was gone a moment later, and she stood to follow him.

She pretended to be hungry when he served eggs, and pretended to smile as he left for work.

After he left, she crawled back into her bed, completely ignoring the fact that today was a school day. She didn't want to be around other people today, the pain was so strong inside of her, the desire to be alone suddenly overwhelming.

Yes, some days were definitely better than others.

Today was one of those other days.

PS...Brittany Snow really does have a scar on her forehead, as most of you probably know. I've noticed that in every single picture/scene in Hairspray, they have her hair covering it up. That made me kind of sad.