A/N: Man, that was some chapter in the last one. And a lot of you have been wondering what'd happen afterwards. And guess what? Today is your lucky day because I've finally finished chapter 3 and have it published right here for your viewing pleasure. So enjoy this one and let me know how I did at the end. Thanks!

"Regular talk"

'Mental dialogue'

"Previously said dialogue"

Chapter 3: Life Is A Bore Without You

Either I was having a dream or I really was eating a dust bunny. Hm…weird. I opened my eyes and came face to face with a ball of dust near my mouth, rolling back and forth from the breathing I was doing. And when my vision became clearer, I saw the kitchen entrance and sunlight beaming through the curtains behind me. This meant that the beating wasn't a figment of my imagination, rather it actually happened at what assume was the evening before.

'That explains the dust in my mouth. Not to mention, why my supposed 'bed' felt so cold.' I tried to lift my body from the ground, but immediately halted my actions when I felt a painful shock course through my head and back. Funny, because I don't remember my mother beating me anywhere else than on the head.

But she probably did that when I was unconscious. By this point, I wouldn't put it passed her to do such things anymore. I just wished that she found a different outlet for her anger…

I tried to move my left arm from under the side of my body again. And once again, I was reduced to crying in pain on the floor. My whole upper body felt sore and I vaguely noticed several cuts marring my hand (the one that wasn't numb and still under the side of my body). My legs were bent in so I could see a couple bruises forming there also. They, too, felt like someone came and threw a car on top of them. But they were on my thighs, so I could get away with pulling my gym shorts lower to conceal them. As for my hand, I can say that I fell on the concrete floor and scraped them. That wasn't going to be an issue.

But what I was mostly worried about was how I was going to get off this floor and pretend that it didn't hurt to move my body in front of people at school.

Oh no! What time is it?

With all my might, I quickly yanked my left arm towards my face (all the while, suppressing a yelp by grinding my teeth together) and read the numbers 2:55 p.m. on it. At that moment, I think the house dropped to negative thirty degrees and time seemed to stop for a second. I couldn't stop the all to familiar shakes from wrecking havoc on my body.

'Oh no, no, no, no! No! This can't be happening. I couldn't have possibly missed a day of school. Now mo-'

My breath hitched when, all of a sudden, I heard a floor board creaking in the house. I laid still, stopping my breathing in the process to hear for anymore noises. It was deathly quiet. So I slowly tried to move my body from the ground again when I heard another creaking sound, only it sounded closer this time. It was getting harder to stop my body from shaking as time ticked away. I craned my head towards the staircase and saw no one there.

Creak.

There it was again. Now I was getting really paranoid, flicking my eyes between the stairs and the kitchen (I couldn't see behind me or to my left where the living room was at because of the pain) and still seeing nothing. I kept straining my ears to hear for anything else. The house was quiet again and stayed that way for at least three minutes, all that time I was trying to keep my body still and the tears at bay. My body was already anticipating the inevitable beatings, so it seems. But I had to be smart about this if I was going to get through the day less harmed than usual.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

I heard the rapid pacing of footsteps upstairs. And pretty soon, they were sounding off from the stairs.

'Oh please, please, please just let me die here now. Daddy, please take me away from all of this. I promise I'll be a good girl. So please help me!'

"Don' tew me that buh-bitch is still hew…hic…" she muttered to herself as she was descending those steps. I kept my face down, letting my bands cover my eyes, and waiting in terror to see what she'd do because there was no point in struggling to flee to the front door at this point. I long lost my chance for temporary freedom.

So the best I could do was pretending to still being unconscious.

That was how my mother found me when she got to the hall, lying on the ground in a heap of tattered clothes and messy hair while unconscious on the ground. I heard her snicker a few times, her body a couple of feet from my own (and boy was I grateful for that). But then I heard the floor boards creaking again and it didn't take long before she had her body hovering over mine, the smell of alcohol strong in my nostrils. Now I can honestly say I was scared senselessly. But I kept my façade up.

"The hell wit uo. Goin' waste time sweeping on muh floor? Dirty slut!" She spit in my hair, distaste in her voice as she said it. But I could care less. As long as she didn't beat on me, that is.

"Still sweeping, huh? Well, we hafta fix that." She delivered a hard kick to my back, sending me on a crash course to the wall. But I bit back a yell and kept at my act. But, oh, how hard it was just to do that. I just hope I don't become crippled from all of this.

"Bitch, wake uuup!" She gave me another kick, but to the stomach. That one hurt a lot. But I wasn't about to give myself away. I clenched my eyes tighter when she proceeded to kick my stomach again, again and again. Good thing my bangs were covering my eyes. Otherwise, she definitely would have seen that I had been awake all this time.

She kicked my stomach harder when she saw that I wasn't waking. I nearly threw up a couple of times during all this. I was beginning to see white flashes behind my eyelids, almost blinding me on the spot.

'Come on, Marta. You just have to keep this up for a little longer. Just a little bit more and she'll finally leave you alone. She will. She really will.'

Though, I was beginning to doubt that when my mother didn't show any signs of stopping. She would just increase how hard she hit after each kick. I didn't think I was going to last very long.

I also felt my consciousness fading slowly as I endured the constant beating. To my luck, she stopped kicking me and just stood there (glaring at me, I assumed). But without warning, she yanked on my hair and dragged me to the kitchen. I felt pieces of glass cutting my face and some sticking to my arm. Tears were free-flowing down my cheeks and smearing the blood on my face (I would know because I suddenly tasted the rusty material on my lips). She hoisted my body to lean over the sink, to my surprise, and turned the faucet on cold water. I didn't know what she had planned as she put the plug on the hole and filled it to the rim with water. I squinted my eyes to see my bloody reflection on the water and a sinister look on my mother's, but she didn't notice the fear on my face or how my tears were creating ripples in the water.

Sad thing is, she probably would have enjoyed it if she did.

When she got done with filling up the sink, she turned the faucet off and let the last droplets fall from the nozzle. It was an agonizingly slow tempo, drop after drop falling into the water and distorting my scared image. I nearly lost it when the last water drop fell in the sink and sank with the rest.

After that, I just waited with tense nerves for her next course of action. But she didn't do anything. Nothing at all. She just stood there, with her hand fisting my hair, propping my body over the sink. She hiccupped twice and snorted once. But that was just about it.

The rooster clock on the wall (a gift from one of her drinking buddies) ticked away, filling the void of silence that wrapped around us. The distant sound of cars driving down the street was heard from the window above me. But as soon as they came, they left after. The ticking clock was the only sound in the house again. This only added to my anxiety.

I didn't even trust myself to breath loudly, regulating my breathing to low, inaudible wisps through my nostrils. It was hard. But I had to do it. I tried picturing myself in a field of flowers and running through them without a care in the world. I had a little black dog with blue streaks run along side me, trying to paw at the butterflies above him. My dad, sitting at a river bank with his arm around my smiling mother, was waving at me. Even Ratatosk was there, sitting under a tree with a book on his lap and his voice calling out my name. I run to him and hug him tightly, he the same. Everyone is happy and joyously laughing together. It was a beautiful illusion that had me almost believing it was real.

…Almost.

But then I felt a sadness wash over me when I realized that such a thing would never happen. My dad would never be there for me, my mom would always hate me and Ratatosk would always just be a distant friend that I'd have to let go of eventually. I wasn't meant for happiness. I just wasn't.

Drip.

I didn't notice the stray tear that rolled down my face until I saw it splash on the watery surface. I think my eyes grew the size of saucers as I watched the ripple effect. I sucked in a large breath.

'Oh no…'

My mother's hold on my hair tightened and I didn't get to blink back the rest of the tears before she submerged my face in the water, pushing down with all the strength she had. I vigorously shook my head and tried to get a hold of the sink with my hands, but they were pressed to the cabinets below me (she was pushing hard on my body to keep it kneeled over). I kept struggling to get my head up and squirming my body so as to loosen her grip on it. But as it stands, she was much stronger than I was even if she was drunk.

Holding in my breath became a challenge as I struggled to keep from drowning. My scalp hurt a ton as I swished my head back and forth, her grip tightening to keep me down. I couldn't see too well because the water was tainted a red hue. But I most certainly heard my mother's laughter echo in the water. It broke my heart to hear it, even if this wasn't the first time she's laughed at my suffering.

And this wouldn't be the last.

My vision was blurring considerably and I fought desperately to keep consciousness. But it was proving futile with each thrust of my head and jerk of her hand.

It hurt too much to try. Now I was begging for sleep to come. At least that way, I wouldn't feel the emotional and physical pain brought on by my own mother. I could safely drift away into the realms of sleep and dream of a life much happier than this, like the one I imagined not too long ago.

But I guess my mom wasn't hoping for that. Because not longer after, she yanked my head out of the sink and threw my body on the ground. I was coughing water out of my mouth and clutching my stomach in pain. I heard her walking closer to me. She knelt down and caressed my face in the motherly tenderness she used when I was younger.

"I wan uo to cween tis mess now. Or else. Gowt it?" I nodded slowly and she got up to leave to her room downstairs, muttering curses my way. But it didn't bother much as I struggled to breath again. I was heaving hard, feeling the bile rise to my throat and swallowing it down to prevent myself from dirtying the floor anymore.

After a minute or two of labored breathing, I composed myself (harder than it sounds) and lifted my upper body. I gripped on the sink and used that as leverage to lift myself to a standing position, wobbling at first and then straightening up. My body ached all over and it would probably take two days before I can play it off differently at school. Until then, I willed my staggering body to walk to the pantry and took out the mop to wipe the water off the floor. I slid the mop side to side because it was easier on my body than pushing it back and forth with any kind of strength and eliciting another round of pain. My arms felt sluggish, same with my legs, but I managed to keep my balance and mop up the water on the floor (and the streaks of blood smeared in long lines).

I put the mop away when I was done and struggled my way up the stairs, sliding my body across the wall due to the fact that I couldn't properly stand straight. I kept a firm grip on the railing when I felt myself losing strength to my already weakened legs. Dragging my body the rest of the way up was torture in of itself. But geez! I must be a pretty strong person to have the strength to hoist my beaten body up and walk up stairs, and still have left over stamina to dress myself. But I guess years of the same routine does that to a person.

I made a mental note to go to the main office tomorrow to ask about getting another uniform ordered. The one I had on was too ripped up to wear to school. And I'm probably going to get scolded by my teachers for this (definitely not looking forward to that). I also know of a certain someone who's going to be asking about it too…

The guy just had to be nosy, didn't he? I mean, really! But I'll deal with him tomorrow, when my body is feeling a little better and it doesn't hurt as much to inflict a punch to his arm without feeling it myself.

"Ouch." It's been some time since I've had to wiggle my arms into a shirt while suffering an immense pain from it. I think I'll just stick to a tank top, shorts and blanket to keep me warm. At least then I don't have to stifle my cries when I loop an arm through the sleeve of my shirt. It's more painful than necessary. So it's better to forgo the trouble of putting on a shirt like that and just getting into something less difficult.

I felt a slight draft hitting my face as I sat on my bed, huddled in my thick covers. I looked to my right and saw that my window was cracked open. I don't remember- ohhh…

I should have known that my mother did this. She was, after all, upstairs during my 'nap' in the hall. She has no reason for being up here, other than having the urge to beat me up (but that's a different story all together).

I closed my window and pulled the curtain in to give me some privacy. I clutched the blanket closer to my body as I made the small trek to my bed. I had locked the door beforehand, so as not to go into a heart attack from my mother suddenly barging in. the only risk I was putting myself in was that she would beat me harder if she noticed the door locked (she always wanted access to every room regardless of the excuse, to which none ever worked). But she already had her fun. Besides, she's probably drinking in her room or passed out on the living room couch. And if I hear her walking upstairs, I'll just run to the door and unlock it. Easy peasy.

What risk was I running with that?

I spoke too soon. I didn't know when it happened or how long it happened for. But I suddenly awoke to the sound of my mom roughly banging on my bedroom door. I immediately crawled under the bed (ignoring the tremendous pain for a moment of security), gripping tightly to my blanket, and waited for her to go downstairs. The banging got louder as I cowered on the floor.

"OPEN THIS FUCKIN' DOOR!"

My body instinctively flinched. The shakes returned and it was only a matter of time before she barged through the door and had her way with me.

"BITCH! I SAID OPEN THE DOOR!"

I brought the blanket around my ears to block out my mother's angry voice and vigorously chanted in my head words of comfort. My sides burned like searing, hot water, but it helped to lay in a fetal position so that it didn't hurt as much. I just hope my mom wasn't eager for a fight because I don't think I have the strength to even stand right now. It took all I had to just crouch and crawl under the bed. So imagine standing and enduring another round of beating? I don't think so.

"IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS, I'M GOING TO KNOCK IT DOWN MYSELF AND KICK YOUR ASS TILL YOU'RE BLEEDING!" Another bang to the door, and then…silence. I thought, maybe, she'd left to go drink. But then I heard her voice penetrate through the door, sounding low and dangerous.

"One."

Oh no. She really meant what she said. But I thought it was a bluff!

"Two."

Should I open it? I mean, it's evident that she'll go through with her plan. But was it really worth the risk?

"Three."

I was hyperventilating, like really badly. So I stuffed the ends of my blanket in my mouth to keep myself under control, only to fail miserably when I struggled even more to breathe properly. Obviously, the blanket method wasn't working. Oh, god. I don't know what to do!

"Four"

This is it. I can get what may possibly be the worst beating of my life or I can open the door and beg her for forgiveness. But do I want to open the door? Should I open the door?

"Five."

I quickly scrambled to my feet and launched my body towards the door, nearly yanking it off its hinges when I opened it wide. Her eyes were narrowed and red with anger (and from drinking again). She had a belt looked over her right arm, the light from my room creating a glint on the brass parts to make it more intimidating. I didn't know what she had in mind, but I knew it had something to do with that black leather belt…

I clutched her legs in a pathetic manner, trying to earn her sympathy and a hold on my swaying emotions. The tears came in large floods and in a matter of seconds I was choking on my own saliva. I was really afraid. Really afraid. Even my vision was swimming thanks to my fear. But she looked down on me with that same expression of hatred.

"I-I'm so sorry! I'm so very sorry, mother! I promise I'll never do this again! I'll be a good girl from now on and I'll try really hard not to get on your nerves. I'll even make sure that you have the right dinner everyday. I won't disappoint you and make you mad at me. I promise!"

She didn't speak at all. This made me very scared because she was always more scarier when she was silent. I didn't know what she was capable of when she didn't yell out what she planned to do. And I was still freaking out over what she may have brought the belt with her for.

"Please. You have to believe me! Please mother! Please!"

"Don't you fuckin' kid me around." She paused for a second, looking me up and down from my crouched position on the floor with my hands tightly grasping onto her legs. The corners of her lips tugged upward from the sight. "Hahaha. You look so damn pathetic, on your knees and begging." She grabbed my hair and pulled it up. She kneeled to my level and glared at me with a smirk on her face, just like all the other times. "But that's not gonna save you. So you can quit your bitchin'."

"I'm sorry, mom." I said, barely above a whisper. I felt too scared to speak up and decided to keep my eyes closed so that she didn't see what she'd done to me.

She gripped my hair tighter and I could feel her breath hitting my face, prickling it on the spot. "Are you scared?" She sounded more sinisterly humored than anything. I didn't say anything, so she pulled my hair again.

"Unh!" My nose was running a lot by this point, my eyes stung and I was choking on my sobs. But it was the least of my worries.

"I saaaaaid. Are. You. Scared?" I heard the belt jingle, alerting me that she was pulling it off her arm. I swiftly swished my head side to side till I could feel my brain sloshing inside my head and my scalp burn. I didn't want her to hit me at all.

She right away pinned me to the ground, using my hair, and I opened my eyes quickly to see her kneeling down and roughly pressing her knee on my chest. I felt winded by the impact. "Well, then. Lets see how you do now!" The leather slapped on my arm, causing me to cry out. She did it again and it hit my side. She swung wildly, hitting every possible patch of visible skin. Made me regret putting on the tank top. And the shorts.

"You're a little bitch. You know that?" She gave me a slap to the cheek. "A real piece of work. Completely worthless." Another slap of the leather against my legs. "This is why our family is broken up. It's all your damn fault!"

"Mo- Ah!" The belt connected with my face, a horrible sting replacing the wet trail of tears there before.

"You don't deserve to be happy! Not after all I've had to go through!" I cried harder, knowing that what she was saying was true. I felt truly empty with those words.

She gave the belt another go at my reddening legs, tears coming from her own wide eyes. She looked hysterical. "It's your fault I'm miserable! It's your fault! It's your fault! IT'S YOUR FAULT!"

She swung the belt on my back several times then moved to my arms, which were covering my tear stained face. I was lost in her words, the raw pain inflicted on my body long forgotten. I cried myself senselessly through the whole ordeal, not caring if it made her angrier or not. She already succumbed herself to the anger and memories that will never be again. So I don't think it mattered much if I was crying like a coward.

From there, I was continuously hit with the belt for a long period of time. Probably for an hour or so. It was all a blur, so I don't remember much.

Going to bed that night, though, was even more painful. But at least it was the belt…and not the knife this time around.

But it didn't ease my breaking heart in the very least.

After four days of non-stop beatings and hours of nursing numerous wounds on my body, I was thrilled for the coming of school again. It's Monday and I couldn't have been happier, even if it meant dealing with Ratatosk and his jerkish comments. But I'd take that any day over the four days with my mother. Or any days with her, for that matter.

I looked towards the nightstand where my tattered school uniform was. I don't know how things are going to go at school, but I can be sure that it's not going to run smoothly. I ruined my school uniform not even a month into school. I don't see them being happy about that.

So I opted for wearing a plain white t-shirt and denim jeans with white, ballet flats. I put my hair in a ponytail (I put enough make-up on my face to cover the cuts and bruising) and pinned a single flower pin over the hair tie. I grabbed a red sweater and my backpack. I shoved my uniform inside the backpack and slung it over my back. It hurt a lot to have something around my shoulders. But I brushed the feeling aside and wearily, and as quietly as I could, walked down the stairs. And as always, I looked both ways when I made it down to the last step.

'Good. Looks like she's not around.' I sped down the hall, putting as much effort into thrusting my body forward. For a short distance, it felt like an eternity to get to the door. I heard her bedroom door open with a creak. It made me feel more compelled to get to the door.

"Marta!"

I didn't stop running. I just kept going, swinging the door open with urgency and pushed myself out.

"MARTA!" she yelled after me. But I didn't bother look back as I made my way to school. I got a few stares from neighbors who saw my mom angrily yell my name from the front door. But I ignored them and continued running like my life depended on it.

I could feel the burn escalating down my thighs and resting on the heel of my feet. My arms felt the same way and I'm pretty sure I'd scream loudly if Ratatosk ever decided to slap my back, even if it was a slight of pats.

I tried pushing myself to run against the pain because I sure as heck didn't want to get there late. But with each mile I ran, the more worn down I felt. I wanted so madly to stop and rest a while on a bench. And it didn't help that my legs were slowing down and all the benches at the bus stops were 'coincidently' empty. But I continued to push my body to the limit.

I just had to. For my sake.

So I painfully ran the rest of the way to school, hoping to every god out there that I didn't get there late. And before I knew it, I saw the front of the school building and several kids making their way inside. Despite the utter pain I was feeling, I was glad that I made it on time. I ran through the double doors and rushed towards the main office.

I saw the same woman from my first day at the front desk. She was on the phone with someone, so I took a seat in the lobby and waited for her to finish. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to rest my body from the rigorous running. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, relaxing in the moment. I felt my head swimming with memories of when my mother broke down and yelled those hurtful words to me. I felt a migraine coming on just from thinking about it.

'I didn't need to be told that everything bad in our lives is my fault. I…was already aware of that since the beginning.'

I heard the secretary hang up the phone. Opening both my eyes, I saw her look my way with that same, caring smile from before.

"Oh, hey. So if it isn't Marta Lualdi. And what can I do for you today?"

As I was walking up to the desk, I was taken back by what she said. "How do you remember my name?"

"You struck me as interesting." was all she said.

"Interesting?" How can I be interesting? If anything, I'm the plainest person on the planet. Certainly nothing interesting about me.

"Yeah, interesting. I don't know what it is, but I have a feeling that you're a really interesting person to know. That's why I bothered to remember your name."

"Oh…" I could feel my face heat up. This is really embarrassing!

"You're so modest, it's cute."

"W-Wha!"

"Hahah. Sorry about that." I was too embarrassed to keep eye contact with this woman. I mean, it's rare that I get such complements. Usually, I was called the various 'colorful' words that my mother uses or names that Ratatosk nicknames me.

"I promise I won't tease you anymore. So what did you need?"

"Um…well…I-I need to talk to someone about getting a new uniform?"

She stared me straight in the eye for a good minute, as though in disbelief of what she heard me say. Her head cradled on her fisted hands under her chin, she suddenly started to laugh again. Again!

"Really? Hahahah! What happened? Your dog ate your uniform?"

"N-No! I-I just need a n-new one!"

"Haha…sorry again. Ok, I won't ask. I'll get someone in the office to help you out. Just take a seat there and I'll let you know when someone is available."

"T-thanks, um…"

"Kate."

"Ok…Kate." I walked back to my seat with my head down. I heard her trying to stifle a laugh from behind, but stop and look all innocent when I turned around to sit. I leaned my head back on the wall and tried to forget the way Kate made me flustered. I could feel her gaze on me, probably with a smile on her face. What was it with people trying to get under my skin?

Three minutes later, I heard Kate call my name and direct me to an office where this woman was seated behind a computer.

As expected, I got a good lecture for it. The woman was angry that I damaged it so quickly and told me how it's unacceptable to be walking around school grounds in regular clothing, saying that it could set a bad influence for others to follow. But luckily the woman felt for me (I told her a group of people tried mugging me and attacked me ruthlessly when I didn't comply) and decided to let me off easy, saying that the new uniform will be ready for pick-up tomorrow morning. I exited the room and Kate bid me farewell and told be to stop by again to chat.

I'll admit, she wasn't so bad. She was a nice enough person, when she wasn't teasing me. At least she didn't make me feel worthless or unwanted. What's there not to like? So maybe I will come by just to talk to her.

I'll need someone to vent with when Ratatosk gets on my bad side (which is pretty much all the time).

I tucked the pass I got from Kate in my pocket and walked towards my locker. The halls were clear, indicating that everyone was in class. This also meant that I was late to first period, and my teacher for that class is strict. In other words, she doesn't take tardiness very lightly. Good thing I have the pass from Kate or I'd be toast.

I finally got to my locker, entered in the combination and popped open the locker door. I saw my history, math, science and english textbooks propped up neatly inside and a single mirror glued to the back of the locker door. I pulled out my history and English books and proceeded to close up my locker.

"And where the hell have you been?"

"Ah!" I think I jumped a good two feet in the air when Ratatosk suddenly sneaked up behind me. I certainly wasn't expecting that, putting a hand to my heart and trying to get past my short of breath situation.

"Hahaha! Oh, this is hilarious."

I turned back to him, still struggling to breath normally but angered all the same. "Do you have to sneak up behind me?"

"I didn't quote on quote 'sneak up behind you' like you say." He even used air quotes to make his point. "You were just so immersed in your la la land to notice that I was behind you."

"Jerk."

He leaned the right side of his body on the lockers, arms crossed, indifferent look in place, and gazed at me with seriousness in his eyes. I just stood there, confused by the change in mood. Usually, he's cocky and ready for name-calling. But now, he cut it short and was staring at me like he did when he caught me as I fell from the tree.

"So? Where were you on thursday and friday?"

I wasn't sure if he was angry or just plain curious. He was making it hard to tell with his look. And to be very blunt, I wasn't sure what to make of this Ratatosk. He was being oddly serious (something that Ratatosk isn't whenever I'm around him) and the question he was asking me…why did he sound so concerned?

….Was he possibly worried about me?

"Well?"

I was shaken from my thoughts when I heard him speak out again. I could feel his ruby reds boring into my crystal blues. I felt exposed, but strangely flattered by his gaze. I'm still not sure what his look even means. But I guess I didn't mind it so much.

"Oh! Well…m-my mom got one of her crazy ideas to go on a mother-daughter trip and dragged me off to see the sights. It took a little longer than expected and that's why I was gone for two days. Yeah, that's what it was. Heheh…"

"Hmm…" I got really nervous from the look he was giving me. It appeared like he wasn't convinced in the least. He walked closer to me and bent his head so that he was at eye level with my own.

I think I literally stopped breathing there for a sec.

"Are you sure?"

"Y-yeah." I could hear my heart beating like crazy against my rib cage. Is it possible that he could hear it? Did he know that this close proximity was messing with my cardiac health?

I really, really, really, hope he can't hear my heart pounding away! That would be so embarrassing. I don't think I could live it down if he brought it to attention.

And did he have to be so close to my face?

Ratatosk, on the other hand, didn't seem fazed by it in the least. He kept staring at me, and staring, and staring, and staring…

And out of the blue, he wrapped an arm around my face and started walking. The strong aroma of cologne invaded my system. It smelled REALLY nice on him…

'Wait! I shouldn't be thinking that. That sounds creepy!'

I pushed myself from under his arm and backed away to the side, trying to hold a serious look. But I just didn't have it in me.

He gave me this cute, perplexed look. And it made me feel giddy and bashful inside.

"W-why did you ask about m-me anyways?"

"Huh?"

I bowed my head, unable to keep eye contact with him. I felt my cheeks heat up, something I didn't want him to see.

Stupid hormones!

"W-well, you asked me where I was. But why?"

He reached his arm out and ruffled my hair at the top. "Because life is a bore without you."

I couldn't help the way my eyes widened in wonder and I didn't care if he saw. I was just too awestruck by his words to care.

"Now if you're done gawking, we should get a move on." He turned around and began walking towards history class. I just stood there like in idiot, thinking his words over in my head.

"Because life is a bore without you."

I'm not a bore?

I'm fairly exciting to have around?

I'm important to be in his life?

Does this mean…he likes me a little?

"Hey!" Ratatosk called from behind his shoulder. "Are you coming or not?"

"Y-yeah!" I sprinted the distance till I was walking beside him. We walked at a normal rate, not saying anything else along the way. I discreetly moved my eyes to the left. Ratatosk had that ever-present smirk on his face, an aura of confidence and cockiness and walked like he owned the halls.

But something seemed different.

I couldn't put my finger on it. It reminded me of the time he paid for my lunch without any protest and how he held my hand so comfortably. It was different. But a good different. Maybe he's getting used to having me around? Or maybe he sees me as a really good friend.

"It's your fault I'm miserable!"

"Because life is a bore without you."

My mom may be right about me ruining our once tight knit family. And sure, she's said countless times again and again that I'm destined to cause misery to others and no one would ever want me in their life. She may have a point there also. But she was wrong about one thing.

There is someone in this life that needs me around.

I don't know what this life has in store for me and Ratatosk. We may end up as friends for years to come or to the end of this year. But no matter what happens, I'm just glad to know that I have him in my life.

He's the reason for my smiles. And that's enough for me.

A/N: Aww! Now isn't that just sweet? I love to put little moments of fluff like that.

This should hopefully make up for the long wait. So please leave me a comment because it really makes my day. ^w^