Sorry it's up so late, but it's still on time. Enjoy.

To be, or not to be, that is the question- William Shakespeare

In the past two years of my life, I have thought a lot about suicide; anyone in my position would.

I often stare at the bathtub that my brother killed himself in, or even sit inside it. I close my eyes, put the knife to my wrist, and imagine all the horrors my brother must have been feeling when he presses down and ended his life. I myself would never do such a thing, I'm too cowardly for that...

Though it makes me think; would anyone miss me if I were gone?

I can't think of anyone who would, except maybe Oliver, but he might just be relieved to be rid of a terrible friend like me.

Still breathing,

-Scotty

The boys didn't come to school the next day, or for the rest of the week. Somehow, word spread that they tried something on Miley, and I beat the shit out of them, which of course is true. What is not true, however, is that I castrated them, but believe me, I would have if Miley hadn't stopped me.

Becca hasn't talked to me at all the past week but let me be honest here too; I didn't care all that must anymore. My idea was stupid to begin with.

On the next Monday, two boys came back with uncomfortable looking plaster over their noses that accompany two black eyes. Apparently the third boy, the one I slammed headfirst into the wall, got a concussion.

Whoops.

When I had asked Miley why she was over there in that area in the first place, she blushed and told me that she was looking for me, making guilt sweep through me. So it was my fault.

Oliver and I stick close to her after this but it's not needed. No one goes near her, everyone avoiding eye contact.

If she wanted to date, it's not like I would stop her, it's just that she seems really grateful for the protection we, or I, give.

Mr. Stewart though, I'm certain he is absolutely grateful and is even more friendly than usual, which is nice. Everything i is nice...

But... Then why do I hurt so badly?

SLAP

I close my eyes to the sting of tears, and suck in a deep breath.

"Mom." I turn to my fuming mother and speak calmly. "Please calm down."

"Calm down?! My baby is dead because of you!"

"I know." I hear my own voice crack. "But you have to stop, you're killing yourself living this way."

"Get out!"

I sigh as tears prick in my eyes and make my way out to the back porch.

Sitting on the steps, I light a cigarette and put it to my lips, taking a long drag.

My shoulders slowly relax and I lean back to rest on my elbows.

All I have been wanting is for my mom to come home and for me to be able to see her, talk to her, and it looks like my wish came true.

"Be careful what you wish for huh?" I laugh bitterly.

Maybe we can have some mother daughter time. Sitting on the couch watching reruns from Criminal Minds so she can learn the best way to kill me, drinking ourselves into oblivion until we either pass out or die of alcohol poisoning...

This is the life, I think in some sort of twisted amusement.

A familiar ringtone breaks my sick fantasies and makes me scowl.

"What do you want Oliver?" I snap into the phone.

In response, I get a giggle barely heard over loud music. "Ca-can you pick us up from this part?" He hiccups. "M-Miley's really drunk."

I stand. "You took Miley to a party without telling me?"

"I did!" He denies. "I told you at lunch and you said okay!"

I think back to that conversation, but all I remember from lunch is frantically writing in a notebook.

I sigh, pressing my fingers to the spot between my eyebrows.

"Fine, where are you?"

He gives me that address and I sprint back inside, ignoring my mother's shouts at me, and out the front door.

I make it to the house in about five minutes, the music even able to be heard from outside. Sighing, I push my way into the house, immediately being enveloped by the smell of alcohol and teenage hormone.

I find Oliver in the kitchen with a red cup in his hand, tipped up to his mouth. I take it from him, sloshing some of the stale beer over his shirt, and toss it into the trash.

"Hey Lilly." He slurs.

Before doing anything, I slap him in the arm. "You doughnut!"

"Ow!" He whines.

"Where's Miley?" I ask, only getting a shrug in return.

"Fine." I huff. "Go wait in your car until I find her,"

Before leaving, he reaches for another cup, but I quickly slap it out of his hand and shove him in the direction of the door.

Shoving a drunk person is never a good idea. He goes sprawling into the carpet.

I sigh and go pushing through the crowd in search of the person I'm most worried about: Miley.

I find her in the middle of the dance made floor with many boys and girls alike, dancing very close to her.

"Hey." I growl. That's all I had to do because even in their drunken state, they scramble away, not taking any chances to get on my bad side.

"Common Miley, we're going home." I say, taking her small hand.

"But I'm having fun!" She smiles goofily at me.

"You're drunk, and we should go; Oliver's waiting in the car."

"Fuck Oliver, come dance with me." I almost flinch at the language. Miley never curses, and hearing that word come from her mouth, in her voice... I don't like it.

"No. Let's go." I give one last tug and she reluctantly follows.

The crowd parts easily when I shove through, and then closes back up in a mass of bodies behind Miley.

Oliver is waiting in the car fiddling with the radio when I push Miley into the back seat.

"You know I'm going to kill you tomorrow, right?" I ask him.

And he happily replies, "Yup!"

Oliver stumbles out of the car when we reach his house. "I'm stealing your car!" I call after him and get a thumbs up in response before he pukes into the bushes.

I start driving again when Miley pokes her head out from between the seats. I almost jump, thinking she had already passed out.

"Where are we goin'?" She asks.

"My house." I scowl and push her backwards with one hand. "Put your seatbelt on."

"You didn't make Oliver."

"Yeah, well you're not him." I suddenly feel bad for all the parents out there who had to deal with this because really, a drunken Miley is like a kid Miley.

We pull up to my house and I help a stumbling Miley out of the car, and practically carry her to my bed. I throw the covers over her and soon she falls fast asleep, almost like a child.

Then I go down stairs and pick my sleeping mother up from the couch and carry her up to her room. I leave two Tylenols and a glass of water beside her bed, and then do the same next to mine.

With a tired sigh, I curl up on the floor with a pillow and stare up at the ceiling.

"Damn it." I curse lowly before closing my eyes tightly to fight against the onslaught of tears.

I choke on a sob and roll onto my stomach to hide my face from the taunting shadows. It's like if they see me cry, they'll pull me into their icy depth, and I'm not ready to be lost yet.

My fists tighten in the soft fabric before loosening. Sniffing, I turn onto my side to stare at the object of most of my frustration.

I reach up and gently brush her fingertips that are slightly hanging over the edge, with my own.

My hand drop to the cold floor and I curl my knees into my body like the trash I am. Or I might as well be, compared to this beauty beside me.

My eyes close, dragging me into the new horrors that sleep offers.

The dream is different tonight. Instead of finding him, I am him. Instead of feeling horror of what happened, I'm at peace.

As my blood drains and spills over my wrist, I turn y head up toward the ceiling in peace. It's as if, as my blood leaves my body, so does all the guilt of what I had done...

But then it changes. I switch points of view in that strange way that can only happen in dreams and suddenly, I'm Miley, walking into the bathroom; tough I don't know why she's there. And it's me she finds in the tub, not my brother.

I open my eyes slowly, not sure what to make of the dream; my body seems to be numb.

I exhaustedly look at the clock to see that it says eleven thirty-six. Turning my gaze back to the ceiling, I cross my arms behind my head, just staring off into space for a few minutes.

Then I curl, hauling myself to my feet. I gently brush strands of hair out of Miley's face when I pass, aching to run my fingers over her soft skin and caress her fair cheek.

I stride past the bed and enter the bathroom that connects my room to my dead brother's.

After brushing my teeth clean, I stare at myself in the mirror for a few mindless moments before glancing at the bathtub.

I pluck a razor from the counter at strut over to the cold tiled tub, folding myself into the dry bottom. Tucking my knees to my chest, I shivered when to-cold metal of the blade touches my wrist.

My eyes close as I picture my brother here, sitting in this exact tub, with all this pain coursing through his body and turning into self-hate.

How much pain can one be in to kill themselves? Does it take strength to drag that blade across your skin, or weakness?

I feel the frigid metal, warming slightly from my body heat, and I can finally see the appeal in ending it all.

It must be weakness then, because the girl just on the other side if that door, breaks me down and makes me helpless.

I can see Matt debating in his mind, like me right now, with that old famous saying. "To be, or not to be, that is the question." I muse.

My eyes still closed, I feel the pressure on my wrist increase considerably, though still not enough to break any skin.

Yes, this is what he felt when he ended his life, it must be. Drowning in hopelessness, it makes me ache to put that last ounce of pressure to end it all. I press so hard that I start to worry that if my hand shakes, the razor will slice deep into my waiting skin.

then I'm being brought out of my thoughts by the sound of a door being opened and a sharp intake of breath.

My grip slackens in surprise, causing the blade to fall to the bottom of the tub with a clang.

Let me tell you, whirling around while cramped in the bottom of a bathtub is not the smartest thing.

My knee rams into the edge, sending pain up into the joint. "Ah!" I gasp and clutch my wounded limb.

"What the hell, Lily?" Miley finally gets out, and rushed forward to the edge of the white bowl, dragging me out by mu arms. Surprisingly, Miley is pretty strong.

She pulls me into her to hug me fiercely and her smell wraps around me, slightly tainted by the alcohol of last night.

"Why would you try to kill yourself; what is bothering you Lils?"

I gently try to push her away but she wouldn't budge. "I wasn't trying to kill myself." I tell her through a mouthful of her shirt on her shoulder where she securely holds my head.

"Then what the hell were you doing?" I wince at her harsh voice.

I shove her away again, this time harder, and successfully break her hold. I don't meet her changing eyes, certain that they are that troubling sympathetic blue-grey color.

"Sometimes I sit in there like my brother had, and try to feel what he felt when he s=decided to erase himself from existence."

"That certainly didn't look like you were just thinking." Despite her attempts to hide it, her voice still wavered noticeably.

Wonder becomes apparent in my whispered response. "Because I finally felt it, the aching need to end all the hurt."

She shakes my shoulders roughly and I finally notice the tears streaming from her eyes. She's crying? For me?

I use my thumb to wipe the tears and lift her chin. "Why are you crying?" I wonder aloud.

She shoves me in the chest cursing me out, before fisting her hands in my shirt and burying her face in my neck where it gets damp from her tears.

"You're scaring me, stupid." She says.

Guilt expands in my chest, hot and cold, and I bring my hands up to stroke her back.

"I'm sorry." I soothe. "Please don't cry, I didn't mean to frighten you, love." She sniffs.

"Please just let me in." She begs. "Tell me what's wrong so I can make it better."

"No." I shake my head. "I'm not dragging you into my sick thoughts, you don't deserve to have to deal with it."

She grips me tighter. "Neither do you!"

"I do, I do." I say. "I don't want to drag you into it; you're too innocent, I'll only tare you down."

"I don't care if you pull me to Hell, please let me in."

I can hear the determination and plea in her voice.

I hesitate, only needing her one last soft, "Please..."

"You're going to hate me." I tell her in one last effort in getting her to back down.

She pulls back and stares me in the eye. "I wont."

"I..." I choke and feel my eyes water. "I think I'm in love with you."

My cheeks color slightly when her pushes my hair back from my face and cradles my cheek. "Why is that so bad? Is loving me so terrible?"

"Yes, it's sick." I close my eyes. "You're so innocent and perfect, and I'm nothing but this dirty being that has no right to love you. I'm sick, I'm disgusting, and now you hate me because-"

I'm cut off by something soft pressing hard into my lips. The effect is like sticking a fork in an electrical socket, which I did when I was five, flames shooting from the object of contact and washing over my body and coiling in a hot pool in my stomach.

I moan in a sudden throb of arousal that courses through me. I'm all to aware of Miley's hands fisted in my hair and tugging it almost painfully. Digging my nails into her hips, I bring her closer from our position on our knees until not a single piece of paper can slide between our bodies.

Our lips part for a brief moment, leaving me throbbing and aching, all from a single kiss. A very hot kiss.

"How dare you." She nearly growls against my lips, sending spiking desire straight to my throbbing center and making my finger curl even more and a whimper to ride in my throat. "How dare you even suggest that you're not good enough for me when all you have ever done is protect me."

"You're too innocent." I whisper, though it's not very convincing because my eyes are half-lidded and my hands show no sign of letting go.

"Right now, my thoughts are anything but innocent." Her entire chest rumbles against my own and a large shudder races down my spine, and she's attacking my lips again. Suddenly something prods my slack lips and intrudes into my mouth and, oh my god it's so hot and wet.

Our lips move sloppily together as if we're both drunk, but I can't find it in me to care because I throb and I need her.

And I think she needs me too because right then, one of her hands untangles itself from my hair and dips under my shirt to cup my ribs just below my breast...

Yay, finally some Liley!

So please let me know what you think!

-Fantasy