I had to practically force Sonny to eat all of her food. She made an extra sandwich for her, took a bite out of it, then said she was full. I figured that this must be one of her daily eating habits. It's the only explanation for how skinny she is. She put up a fight at first, but eventually gave in to my demand. We finished eating our lunch together without incident. In fact, we didn't even attempt to share a conversation. That would just ruin things, and we both knew it. Because as soon as we finished eating, I would bark more orders at her. No matter how much I wanted to soften up, it was the inevitable. I just couldn't get around it. While I was contemplating how I should approach her from now on, she stared off into space the entire time. Obviously she was thinking of something that worried her, because her face would scrunch up in a displeasing way from time to time. I was immensely curious, but I didn't to accidentally make her think that I was her friend or anything like that. Just because I don't want her to kill herself and care about her overall well-being, does not mean under any circumstance that I would want to be even an acquaintance with her. No hey, how are you's involved. Ever. So while she was buried in her thoughts, I decided to allow my mind to drift off as well. I wasn't surprised when I realized all of the words floating through my head were all about her. I wondered what her life was like now in Wisconsin that pushed her to turn into such a dark person. Or maybe she was always like this, but just hid it when she lived here? Was the always happy Sonny Monroe just a character she made up? Maybe she's a writer. I hear writers sometimes live the characters they make up. Was it all just for fun, then? Did she not care about any of us at all? Did she pretend to date me, just so she can find the right words and emotions for her book or something like that?

Just one glance at her was all it took to dismiss my latest theory. Sonny was always Sonny. That optimism and never-ending cheer just can't be faked. Even if you're the greatest actress to ever grace a comedy show. Yes, I have to give Sonny her props. She wasn't all that bad. In acting, I mean. In life was a completely different story. In real life, she was just another girl to come along and use me to boost up her social status. Tons of girls have done it before, which is why I usually dumped them as soon as I picked up on their charade. But with Sonny…it was different. I liked her, I really did. I don't think I loved her like I told her I did, but I did like her more than I had ever liked any other girl. I liked her so much, that I foolishly allowed her to break my heart. Something that I had never experienced before until she came around. I used to love spending time with her for that mere purpose. New feelings. New experiences. It was all so new to me. So new, that I got a little bit too caught up in it all. I wasn't supposed to be attracted to her any more than any other hot girl. I was supposed to be stringing her along until she carelessly had sex with me. At first, I started to feel bad about it. But James comforted me numerous times by reminding me that Sonny had no problem whatsoever with having sex. She was just one of those promiscuous girls. Me dating her simply for money and a joke with my friends wouldn't hurt her. Maybe it would teach her not to go sleeping with every guy she saw. I was doing her a favor.

I found myself doubting James's words more often than not. I had spent a lot of time with Sonny, and gotten to know her a lot better. My parents adored her, she never wore skimpy clothing, and, weirdly enough, even in our hottest of makeout sessions, she would always stop me from going below the belt. She even had me doubting my looks. I mean, no doubt I was way hotter than James, but she slept with him on the first date! Why wouldn't she sleep with me after six months?

At first I thought it was because she wanted more with me than a one night stand. Or maybe, just maybe, she was stringing another guy along on the side to fill her sexual desires.

In the end, James was right. Sonny was just a slut who didn't care about anyone but herself. I told myself that over and over and over and over and over again. It gave me slight peace, but not much. Because, no matter how much I doubted it to my friends, I cared about Sonny Monroe.

Now, she was gone. Just a ghost of her was left behind. This is what she deserved all along, I kept telling myself. She deserved falling flat on her pathetic ass (theoretically, of course. Let's face it: her ass is perfect) after all she had put me through. Yet, I couldn't help but sympathize for the girl who had broken my heart so coldly. I was torn between two overpowering emotions: love or hate? And no, I don't mean love as in in love. I mean love as in caring about another person and hoping they get themselves together. Really, cutting? No matter what I'd ever go through, I would never ever resort to cutting. It's just weak. Sonny was never weak. Sonny was one of the most strongest people I knew.

But I had to remind myself yet again: This wasn't Sonny I was dealing with. This was "Allison".

It creeped me out, honestly. Two names, two personalities, one person. It was just like those creepy scary movies. Like the one with that little boy who talked to his finger. Or the other movie with the crazy psycho killer for a dad, who would at one point show love and affection to his children, then a split second later, change into some murderous crazy person who would threaten them at gun point and hang their beloved family cat, dead on the wall.

Then again, maybe those are really bad examples. Both of those people were actually two persons at once. With Sonny, well, she wasn't Sonny anymore. It feels like an eternity since she's been Sonny. I can still see it in her dull brown eyes. If I looked hard enough, I could see a tiny hint of sparkle shine from them. Sonny was still there, somewhere, deep inside of Allison. She was keeping her captive. Part of me wanted to rescue Sonny, but the other part wanted to let her suffer. She deserves it after the suffering she put me through.

"I guess lunch time is over, huh?" Sonny's cautious voice yanked me out of my attempt at sorting out the mystery that is Allison/Sonny, and forced me to stare down at my empty plate. "Yeah, I guess so." I agreed, staring down at the bread crumbs and scattered pieces of lettuce on the glass platter. I started to move to put my plate in the sink, then an epiphany dawned on me: I have a maid to do that for me.

I smiled to myself as I felt a small weight being lifted off of my shoulders. It was more gratifying than anyone will ever know, not having to do my own chores. One horrible thing about living alone: You have to clean up after yourself. Sure, I'm Chad Dylan Cooper, and I have people to do it for me, right? Well, wrong. Kinda. My last maid was a greasy foreign woman who often cursed at me in her native language. After much annoyance, I finally fired her; meaning that I went a whole month without cleaning service. It was true that it's just so hard to find good help these days. I called this fancy cleaning agency, hoping for them to send someone else to take care of my trash for me, but apparently they were booked. I laughed at the lady on the phone and stressed to her that I was Chad Dylan Cooper, and I demanded for my house to be cleaned, ASAP. Shockingly enough, the lady didn't seem phased by my name at all, and suggested I just hire a full-time maid. So I did. Her name is Alice. But she can't come out for another two weeks, so…

Well, you know what happens from there.

Stretching my arms out with a smile, I glanced at Sonny yet again. She looked unsure of what I wanted her to do. Wasn't it obvious? I guess she dumbed down some without me there to guide her.

"You do the dishes. Not just these, but there's a pile in the sink, too. I'm gonna go take a nap." I informed her. She nodded, and then walked torwards the silver sink a few feet away from the table. I heard her gasp at the amount of dirty plates, forks, spoons, knives, and cups dumped in there. So I was too lazy to do anything for a while. So what? It's not like I ran out. Well, I did at one point, but I just went out and bought some more. Problem solved.

"Chad…"

"Yes?"

"You do have a dishwasher, right?"

I smirked and stood up. "Funny thing about that, actually. It broke."

"It broke." she repeated, staring into my eyes in disbelief.

"Yup. But don't worry. You won't be bored after you finish this. You still have to clean all of the upstairs bathrooms, turn on the fireplace, and then start preparing my dinner. It's just oven pizza, so don't worry. And, by the way, I'll cut the slices myself, okay?"

She gasped dramatically. "Do you not trust me, Mr. Cooper?" she fluttered her eyelashes and held her hand over her O-shaped mouth.

"Not at all." I winked at her before slapping the wall and starting to walk out of the room.

"Don't forget to towel-dry!" I called out, smiling again when I heard her groan.

I stopped dead in my tracks when a pounding question entered my brain.

Were we just…flirting?

So far, not-so-horrible. The day passed with surprising ease. Chad and I had the occasional dispute over little things. Like apparently, I didn't wash the dishes the right way. I didn't clean the bathroom the right way. And I didn't start the fireplace the right way. What is the conclusion to my day? Chad is an obsessive compulsive freak. Dinner actually went great, though. We were making actual civilized conversation! Shocking, I know. Chad asked me if I hated this job yet, and I asked him (half serious) if he was willing to just give me the money and send me home.

Not a chance.

He spent the majority of dinner telling me all about his newest movie. Actually, it wasn't even about the movie. It was all about him, and his part in the movie. Also shocking, I know. Even after all these years, he's still predictable as ever.

Now, I lay in bed, going over the day's events again and again in my head, wondering if I should expect the same thing tomorrow. All in all, I'd say today went pretty well. Much better than I expected. But I couldn't help but feel an ache of pain continuously shoot through me. I missed my mom. I wanted more than anything to race home and check on her, but that would be pointless. I made the doctor promise me that he'd have someone call me if anything with my mom went wrong while I was away. I checked my phone again, and had to squint my eyes shut from the harsh light generated from the screen.

No new messages.

No missed calls.

No new voice mail.

That was something to be ecstatic about, but a feeling in the pit of my stomach yearned for any news about my mom. I wish I had thought to bring a picture of her before. I needed her so badly. In a way, though, I was with her. I mean, why was I here anyway? For her of course. Everything I did here was for her.

Looking at my calendar, I reminded myself that today was Monday.

Four days from the party Chad was throwing. I mentally smacked myself when I realized I forgot to remind him that Tawni came by.

Oh well. I'll just tell him in the morning.

AN: I LOVE writing in Chad's POV. It's so much easier than Allison's. With the other SWAC fic I wrote on here, I found it more fun to write in Sonny's POV than Chad's. But we're not gonna see Sonny's shining personality for quite a few more chapters. So Chad's my favorite for now.

Don't get me wrong, I love Sonny. Even when she's Allison. But it seems like all I can write about her is:

I miss my mom

I hate Chad

I hate my life

I wish everybody would die

I'm not trying to downplay her situation at all. I mean, if I went through all she did, I would probably be like that too. But it can get really reptitive, so I'll have to come up with a new aspect of her Allisonness.

This has nothing to do with the story, but, can you believe how time flies? I mean, I'm about to turn FOURTEEN. I remember when I was 4 going on 5, talking excitedly to my mom about how pumped I was to be a whole hand.

I've ran out of fingers!!

Haha anyway, thanks for your amazing reviews, guys.

I LOVE YOU ALL.