A/N: Hey, so I hope you enjoyed the last chapter.

Max is currently on a time-out, thank you for that idea, hehe.

Please read and review this chapter.

Warning: Character death. Oohh.

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Fang POV:

"Urgh.." I groaned, blearily opening my eyes. Blinking a few times, the world came into focus and I remembered where I was. I was lying awkwardly on the floor of the toilet cubicle. I'd passed out. I'd been sick. I'd eaten too much. Running through what had happened a few times made things clearer, and I finally tuned into the real world. That's when I heard what had woken me up: someone was banging on the door.

"Nick? Nick Walker? Are you in there?" They knew it was me? How did they know it was me?

"Yeah," I mumbled, and cringed at how weak my voice sounded.

"Nick?"

"It's me," I called, slightly louder. Man, I sounded like absolute crap.

"Are you okay?" God, did I sound okay? I just wanted them to go away so I could sleep. Right now I didn't even care that I was on the floor of a toilet cubicle.

"Alright, Nick. Stay there, we're going to come in now."

They sounded like those ambulance paramedics trying to calm distressed patients. But I wasn't distressed. I wasn't a patient either.. Was I?

Suddenly the door burst open, just missing me as it banged against the wall. Two men, in the standard camp uniform stood in the doorway.

"Holy shit," one muttered under his breath, earning a sharp glare from the other.

"Okay, kid.. Can you stand?"

I groaned in response. Their voices were making my head hurt again. The men sighed.

"We're going to lift you up and take you to the medical room, okay?"

Shit. No. What if they wanted me to take my jumper off? They couldn't see the scars. They'd laugh. They'd say I was weak. No. I wasn't weak. I didn't need them. I didn't need anyone. I could take care of myself!

Extremely shakily, I got to my feet. "I'm fine," I hissed, my tone dark. I'd have to get out of here quick. My vision was starting to blur again.

Barging out of the stall, I managed to stumble out of the toilet, then had to lean against the wall for support. I was so tired..

"Seriously, Nick. We don't want to force you, but you're sick. You need to go to the medical room."

"No I don't! I'll be fine." I snapped. Whoa, there were four guys? Wait, no, now there was two again.

"Nick is there any reason you don't want to go? We're not going to hurt you," one of the men said. Now they were talking to me like I was five. For god's sake, do they not get the message? But I really did feel awful. Maybe they'd let me off with some headache tablets..

"I'll.. I'll go, as long as I don't have to take my jumper off. Or anything." I muttered quickly, feeling embarrassed.

They gave me a strange look. "You can keep your jumper on, of course. I don;t see any reason for you to have to take it off. "

Relief flooded through my veins, but was instantly replaced with doubt. They could be lying. They probably were lying..

But I was so unbelievably tired.

My eye-lid's fluttered shut, and I felt my body sway dangerously, before arms wrapped around my waist, effectively stopping me from splatting onto the floor.

"Bloody hell, he must be exhausted," the man holding me up muttered.

"It's half past one in the morning, I think he's got an excuse," the other pointed out.

I felt the man shrug. "He smells like puke." Sigh. "Let's take him to Ms Fisher before he wakes up and freaks out again."

"Mm."

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Max POV: (A/N: *sob* all I want to write about is Fang, but we need Max in here too..)

It was nearly 1:30am. Everybody in my dorm was still awake, giving each other manicures in the bathroom. I had escaped to go to the girl's toilets just outside our dorms. But before I could get there, I heard voices coming from the next corridor along.

Now, I wouldn't describe myself as nosy, but I was curious to see who it was. Therefore, I went to look.

What I saw wasn't at all what I had expected.

Two staff members, both guys, were standing beside a boy, who's face was hidden in the shadows. He was leaning heavily against the wall, and his posture screamed 'sod off, I'm tired'. Yep. I'm a good judge of posture.

"-don't want to force you, but you're sick. You need to go to the medical room," I heard one of the guys say.

"No I don't! I'll be fine." The boy replied. He sounded so weak. Wait a minute, I recognized that voice..

Fang?

"Nick is there any reason you don't want to go? We're not going to hurt you," the other guy said. Nick? Who was Nick? Maybe it wasn't Fang. Or was Nick his real name? I didn't know.

"I'll.. I'll go, as long as I don't have to take my jumper off. Or anything."

That was definitely Fang. But.. why would they want him to take his jumper off? And why would he not want to..? God, I had so many questions.

"You can keep your jumper on, of course. I don't see any reason for you to have to take it off."

Fang nodded, then slouched even further against the wall, and started to pitch forward. One of the guys caught him. Had he just.. fallen asleep?

"Bloody hell, he must be exhausted." Yeah, no shit Sherlock.

"It's half past one in the morning, I think he's got an excuse," the other guy pointed out.

"He smells like puke." My eyes widened. Was Fang actually sick?

"Let's take him to Ms Fisher before he wakes up and freaks out again."

The guy holding Fang up lifting him up and swung him over his shoulder.

"..He's really light. And I mean really light." He told his partner, shocked.

"Probably because he vomited his guts up into a toilet," the other shrugged.

"No.. It feels like I could just snap him in half without even trying."

He can't be that fragile if he managed to flip me in less than like three seconds. Let's be honest here. But you can't normally lift up a seventeen year old guy that easily, like he's a piece of paper. Thousands of possibility ran through my head. Was he ill? Did he have a disease? Was he... bulimic? I settled for the least self-destructive theory - that he was probably just naturally skinny.

They started walking, and I followed. What? This was interesting. And I.. I was worried about Fang. He was my friend, I had a right to be worried!

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Fang POV:

I was with my mother. We were at the park, and I was about eight.

We sat on a bench, and she got me an ice-cream. It was mint chocolate, my favourite flavour at the time.

"Aren't you going to have one?" I asked her between licks.

"No, no. Have to watch my figure," she laughed, pointing to her bulging stomach.

I grinned. "Can you feel it?"

"Yes," she said. "Do you want to?" I nodded eagerly and she picked up my hand and placed it on her tummy. There was nothing, and I began to get disappointed. But then I felt it - a soft kick. Then again, and again. My mother was grinning happily, and I squealed.

"I can feel it! I can feel it!" I yelled, and my mum shushed me.

"You might scare her," she told me, but she was still smiling.

"But how can she hear? She's in your tummy," I asked, confused.

"She has very good hearing. She can hear you speaking now," my mother said.

My eyes lit up. "Hello baby!"

My mother laughed. I loved that sound. Her laugh was one of the most beautiful things in the world to me.

Suddenly, this happy scene started to fade, and was replaced with my mother again, but there was something terribly, terribly wrong.

"No! You killed her! You murdered my daughter.. You murdered your own daughter!"

"No I did not!" A voice roared, and a nine year old me cowered back under the dining room table.

"I saw you! You stabbed her! Don't even try to deny it, you monster!" My mother yelled. She had never yelled before, and I didn't like it. It scared me.

Suddenly, there was a savage roar of fury, and my mother screamed in agony. I peeked under the tablecloth to see my father had my mother pinned against a wall, and had stabbed her in the gut with a knife.

I didn't understand what was happening, I couldn't comprehend it. All I knew was that this was bad, bad, bad. My mother was gasping, her hand pressed against her stomach.

"You are a monster," she spat at him, "and I hope you rot in hell!"

"We'll see," my father smirked, and then he laughed. It was a crazed laugh, the laugh of a maniac. He dropped my mother to the floor, and I immediately ran to her side. She stared at me in horror.

"No, Nick! Run! Escape! Go, now!" she tried in vain to push my away.

"Mummy!" I wailed. "Mummy! I love you, Mummy," I cried, and the first tear dripped down my mother's own cheek.

"I love you too, Fang. I love you so much."

And with that, her eyes closed. Somehow, I knew that they would never open again.

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A/N:

I cried writing this.

I'm still crying.

Max: *sobs* Oh my god, I feel so.. so.. *sobs again*

Me: *sobs with Max*

Please.. *sniffle*.. Please review.. In honour of Fang's mother. :''(

~ LightningEagle ~