Yes, I'm horrible. Kill me now. Honestly though I was sick, but still going to school because I wasn't quite sick enough for my Mom to let me stay home. She kept on saying if I got worse. Long story short I was miserable and cranky. If I had posted something I probably would accidentally post a school project.

The next chapter was really hard to write though. I was going in a direction that wasn't working so I finally just deleted part of it and changed it utterly. After that it was like butter.

By the way, does anyone know what the difference between visitors and hits is on the story traffic page?

When I was little I could never understand suicide. Why would anyone ever want to take their own life?

Ashley's PoV

I got home still roaring with hurt and despair and loss. I had never really understood that Spencer and I just weren't anymore. I knew she had broken up with me. Emotionally, I never really felt it. Intellectually, I hadn't even considered the possibility of Spencer letting me go. Spiraling with a avalanche emotions I found my guitar and piano and started playing without even realizing it. Months had passed since the last time I had touched an instrument, so quite predictably I sucked.

It took me awhile to write any songs. Occasionally I would break down in tears. Looking back it's east to see that I didn't write any great songs that day. Dazed, I failed to reach anything resembling genius. In my experience I don't write great music when I'm in the throes of agony. I might have great ideas while in the throes of agony, but great ideas don't always turn into great products. My thoughts can't focus enough to actually compose well.

Sometimes, I'm not sure why I write songs. At that moment, it sure wasn't therapeutic. It didn't take away any pain, if anything it magnified everything I was feeling. What it did do was to make things real. Singing the words aloud, giving them structure, forced my mind to face them. Partially, at the very least. Maybe I needed that.

Even if I could deal with Spencer exploring her options, I refused to accept that of all people in the world she'd choose Carmen Madruga over me. Or for that matter Carmen Madruga over almost anybody in the world. I remembered a lot of stuff, and honestly, I would rather Spencer go for Aiden. He's an annoying idiot, but overall harmless.

I was alone with no one to go to advice. It was all up to me, and I'm sure that by now you know that I'm a horrible decision maker.

In the end I decided I had to try, at the very least, to tell Spencer what she was getting into.

Or I could just kill Carmen and have the entire fiasco be over with. Killing Carmen, as tempting as it sounded, was risky and probably only going to make Spencer even more furious with me if that was possible. I wasn't sure if it was.

That didn't stop me from envisioning several scenarios that ended with Carmen dead.

Spencer's PoV

I was alone in the house when she came.

That day Glen had taken off to see if he could get a job (figures that he'd still be living at home.) And Mom and Dad were at work. Alone, I did my homework (it wasn't that hard) and started a paper that wasn't due for a week.

Valence electrons in the hydrogen atom join the-

Ding-dong.

Jolted from my work I recollected my thoughts and crept stealthily, to remain unseen by potential intruders, over to the door. Then I, well- peeped through the peephole. And there she was in all her glory: a fire blazing in a tundra. A rotting tundra, if that were possible, because she was as withered as she was the day I'd seen her at school. Her decrepit appearance shot worry through my blood once again.

Her eyes though, were so very alive, and once again they awoke my festering anger and resentment. I refused to open the door, but stood, riveted by her image, staring through the little window. At first her voice creaked a little from lack of use when she began to shout.

"Spencer! I know you're in there! You're not as sneaky as you think! I saw you tiptoeing through the dining room!" I didn't respond, expecting a bluff.

"You're wearing a blue shirt and a white skirt!"

Defeated, I opened the door without warning and snarled loudly, "What makes you think I'll open the door just because you know I'm home?" She stumbled back a few steps in surprise.

"Well, for one thing, you just did," she pointed out.

"Oh." I had an inner panic attack trying to keep my sudden urge to blush and smile under control. In the end I resorted to the time-honored scowl.

"What are you doing here?" Nastily flew out of my mouth.

"No invitation in?" She asked, with a lop-sided half-smile. It's a little unsure, but still there. Now, I also had to suppress the impulse to pull her in by the wrist, making sure she crashed into me a little and smuggle her upstairs. I chose to glare.

"Did you really expect that?" Contempt wormed its way into my voice.

Her eyes, sparkling with soft humor before, fell to the ground, then the lamp, the siding, the doorbell, the plants. Something like "Guess not" was muttered. She looked ready to give up and go already which annoyed and relieved me. The longer she was here, the harder it was not to fall to her spell.

"Leave, then." I stated flatly. Time to get straight to the point.

"It's important." She murmured.

"I'm sure it's very important. As important as getting rid of you right now is." I interjected dismissively.

"You just can't trust Carmen." She continued without pausing, like she didn't hear me, like what I had said didn't matter, like she had when I tried to explain how uncomfortable she and Aiden were making me.

"Did you hear me, Ash? Do you not hear me telling you to go away?" My voice was tinged with the irritation of disbelief. Carmen always heard me. She had when I told her about Clay. She had been polite when we crashed into each other. She didn't disappear to Europe.

"Look, Carmen has a history of being violent. Her family is from the slums. She's been arrested twice. I've heard from a lot girls that she is really abusive in her relationships," she said shifting from foot to foot.

I couldn't believe her. The nerve was appalling. "Are you deaf? Don't you hear yourself? God, you sound so much like my mother I could strangle you. Do you know how many people's advice I ignored, the respect of how many people I sacrificed to be with you? How many people tried to 'protect' me like you're doing right now? What gives you, of all people, the right to come here and trash others? Especially with information you probably got while you were under most of these girls."

She flinched, but finally, her eyes came back to mine. "They were right, okay? Being with me was probably the worst decision of you life. I know that it was. I know that it was my fault. And I know I can't change it anymore. All of those people, your mother, Madison, they were right about me. They were right to warn you away. And right now, this time, well, I'm right. You can't trust Carmen Madruga," she insisted.

Her logic left me stupefied. To defy her warning would mean that I had considered getting involved with Ashley Davies a good idea. That I didn't regret it. That I would do it again. That it had been happy and worthwhile- worth the pain.

"I'm sorry." That's always been her defense, her excuse. Like an old splinter that never quite came out it rallied my anger and pain once more.

"Sorry is a cheap word," I countered, quoting an old English teacher, who, for all I know, could have been quoting someone else.

"Then, I'm a poor person." She said simply.

"No you're not, you just like to waste you're money on other stuff." I corrected. "Stuff that's not important. You're just cheap when it comes to other people." Silence was all I got in return. See? Cheap. Don't I deserve some sort of answer? The pause lengthened, both of us not meeting the other's eyes.

"Why haven't you slammed the door in my face?" She asked with the tone of someone just realizing something. Good question.

"I will." I replied. Slowly I summoned up the strength needed for such an incredible feat.

"You haven't," she commented after amoment. "Why not? Don't you keep telling me to leave?" Her inquiring rose in intensity and slight desperation. "If you hate me so much why don't you slam the door? Why did you open the door in the first place? Do you still lo-"

"Shut up!" I blew up at her, unwilling and unable to hear that final question. "You want to know why I haven't slammed the door in you face, huh? Here's why. I've got some things to say to you too, Ashley Davies. You should just go and disappear back to Europe with Aiden or whoever again. I honestly don't know how you can stand to live with yourself. I don't know how you have the nerve to come here after everything. I don't know how you got pregnant and I don't care because all it means is that you cheated on me and ruined everything. I do know that I never want ever see or hear from you again because I'm moving on and I don't need you."

At last, I flung the door closed, catching a last glimpse of Ashley with tears trickling down her face.

Ashley's PoV

I cried brokenly to my car. I tried. I had to try and she had every right to lash out at me. But for half a moment I had hope. Hope for us in the future, a chance at a new start, maybe a fairy-tale ending.

What's worse than having you're heart crushed?

Getting your hopes up and then getting your heart crushed. You have twice as far to fall.

I can't hate her though. Even if I was allowed to I couldn't. How could I ever hate her for anything? I would have forgiven her for murdering my father. She was my life. She was the Earth, but like the humans that couldn't stop me from destroying her.

I was drowning in guilt and loss. There was no way out. I'd either end up living with Christine or alone for the rest of my life. Relationships of any sort were not for Ashley Davies. I was trapped in the horrors of life. Thelma and Louise had the right idea. Driving off into nothingness, it had to be better than what was here.

What are you living for?