Hey All! So this chapter gets a bit dark and to be honest it was a little hard to write so please be kind!

I'd like to thank js158900 for their faithful reviews! They've been extremely helpful and motivating! I hope you enjoy this chapter and please comment to let me know how you like it!

Zoey was in the art room at her school, drinking coffee. It was strange because no snacks or beverages were allowed in the art room. She sat at one of the large wooden tables, their surface filled with holes and divots, ingrained in them from years of use. Large posters with intricate paintings that she couldn't focus on filled the room.

Several people from her prep school filled the other tables, but she sat alone. A sketch pad was before her and soon enough she started drawing, ignoring the chatter around her. Her teacher was playing some Beatles' song, but she wasn't sure which one it was.

"Hey Zoey," someone from behind her spoke. "Are you too good to hang out with us or something?"

Zoey turned around. "No I- I was just doodling."

"Well let's see it then." Before she knew it the person, who was a girl, grabbed the sketch pad and seemed to inspect it closely.

The pad was tossed back to her on the table. "He looks really angry," the girl said.

"Who?" Zoey asked.

"The guy in your drawing. He is kind of cute though."

Zoey flipped around the overturned sketch pad in curiosity. It was true, it was a picture of a boy. He looked vaguely familiar but Zoey's memory seemed to fail her. She carefully traced the boy's jaw line which was, true to the other girl's word, tensed in anger. She had drawn his eyes almost without flaw, and if there had been color she was sure they would burn brighter than any eyes she had ever seen.

As beautiful as he was he didn't look like anyone she'd ever want to know. He looked arrogant, and even in his anger the corner of his mouth turned up in an infuriating smirk. He looked like someone with a quick temper.

It's what keeps me on top.

Spot. The name jumped to the front of her brain like a bullet and in seconds everything came back to her. The Beatles had changed to something loud and more edgy, something she distantly recognized as Nirvana.

When she stood up and spun around, looking for who had changed the music her father stood before her. Zoey froze, her eyes widening in fright.

"You're such a disappointment, Zoey." He stalked towards her, a disgusted look in his face.

"D-dad…"

"Everything I fucking do for you, and this is how you repay me?" His eyes bite into her soul, making her flinch. "You shouldn't have even been born, did you know that? But your mother insisted, said that it didn't matter you were a girl. That girls could make good successors too."

Her father kicked over a stool near her. "What a load of shit!" He shouted. "I should have thrown you away when I had the chance!"

"Dad, don't say that!" Zoey cried, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Maybe I will get rid of you now. It's not too late."

Zoey tried to move, but her legs weren't working, she was frozen. Her sobs were silent, even to her own ears. Her father towered above her, and all she could do was try to shrink away. He grabbed her roughly and soon his hands were wrapped around her neck.

She could feel her life draining away, her remaining vision clouded from tears. Why couldn't she defend herself? Zoey could hear her mother's voice from nearby, egging her father on. She tried to scream and suddenly she was able to kick out. The focus of her vision sharpened, her father and mother disappeared in a flash.

The art room and its garish posters melted away until Zoey stood alone on an abandoned street, lit by a lone streetlamp. No lights shone in the numerous windows of the buildings around her and everything was quiet. She didn't know how to get home, except she didn't have a home. No one wanted her there, she wasn't supposed to have been born. Even so, Zoey couldn't help but be grateful she was no longer anywhere near her father.

She couldn't see anything in the dark streets. It felt like time was stretched out, she stood staring out at the same spot, where light met the dark, waiting for nothing to happen.

Step. Step. Step.

Slowly a figure emerged from the foggy darkness.

Step. Step.

Zoey saw the golden metallic glint reflect off of the dim light.

Step.

Spot's face appeared, no longer shrouded in darkness, and there was his eternal, insufferable smirk, placed on his face as if it had been there all his life.

"Hey Crazy," he said with a smile. "Why do you look so scared?"

When Zoey woke she couldn't breathe properly. Her chest was tight and her heart was beating erratically. She couldn't move, and her throat was painfully dry. She managed a raspy croak and all of a sudden she was in control again.

Zoey curled into a ball and began to rock herself. She knew even without looking around that she wasn't home. It was a dream. She was in the lodging house, in a mostly abandoned bunk room, and tears were streaming down her face as she struggled to breathe. She couldn't mask her cries for long, and despite her efforts one of the boys she shared the room with woke up.

He looked somewhere near eleven, and was rail thin. He didn't say anything to her, he must've been able to tell what sort of state she was in without asking. Zoey only half paid attention to him as he got out of bed and walked out the door into the hallway.

All you need is love. Do do do do do…

She was shaking uncontrollably. No nightmare had ever affected her this way before, her body felt as if everything had been real. Her arm ached right in the area her father had initially grabbed her in her dream. She held a hand over her mouth to keep any noises she let out muffled, and tried to slowly breath through her nose.

She didn't know how many minutes later it was, but somehow Spot was sitting next to her, a hand on her shoulder. He looked just as he had in her dream, both her sketch and in the street. Except his eyes held no amusement, nor anger. His eyes seemed softer than Zoey had ever been which she credited towards his sleepiness.

"What's amatta?" he asked her somewhat groggily, his husky voice laced more with sleepiness than with concern.

She shook her head quickly, her chest tightening at even the thought of reliving her dream. She'd be a complete mess again in an instant. Her whole body was shivering and she cursed herself for showing so much weakness in front of this person.

"C'mon, somethin's up. It can't be that bad." He tried to coax a story out of her. Zoey looked up, meeting his gaze, and his eyes widened. She knew he must've seen- seen it in her eyes that she wasn't mildly scared by some monster in her dreams. She had never experienced a dream like this before. She didn't know why it had shocked her so much.

She shook her head again and buried it in her arms, resting atop her knees. Spot didn't say anything to her, and she thought that he was resolved to leave when she felt him lift off the mattress, but then his arms were around her. One arm went underneath her knees and the other cradled her middle. When he began lifting her she reflexively wrapped her arms around his neck to prevent herself from falling.

"Y-you can't carry me," she managed to say without her voice failing her.

Spot gave her an incredulous look. "Why not?"

She froze for a moment, where would he possibly carry her off to? "I'm too heavy."

Spot let out a dark chuckle. "Who do you think dragged youse all the way back when ya decided ta take a headfirst dive into the concrete last night?"

...love, love is all you need…

Zoey shivered and unconsciously clung tighter to Spot, the once cheerful lyrics striking fear into her chest. Spot ignored whatever spasm was going through her and resolutely carried her through the doorway and down the small hallway. He nudged a door to their right open with his foot and it revealed a closet small room, with a dresser, desk, and bed all wedged in together.

Spot set her down on the bed with little care and plopped himself into a rather cushy-but small arm chair in the corner. He snatched a thin looking blanket from the floor.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked. Why couldn't her tongue work correctly?

He cast an annoyed look her way. "What's it look like?"

So he was giving her his bed to sleep in. For some reason, but why would he do that?

"Why?" She asked, her voice sounding much steadier than it had been.

Spot tried to situate himself on the chair. "'Cause my boys need ta work tomorrow, and that means they need ta sleep."

Ah, so they couldn't afford to have her and her crazy dreams disturbing people.

"But…" She faltered slightly when he sent her another annoyed glance. "But, what about you?"

"I'm their leader," he said whilst punching the head rest of his chair into submission. "I can survive on less than them."

"Oh," she replied quietly, for lack of a better response.

"Yeah."

Zoey placed her hands upon the mattress, it was clad in worn but clean sheets and blanket. It was nothing like her bed at home, this one felt more personal, like it was actually appreciated. The quilt was dark blue and a faded red, she wondered where Spot had gotten it.

"Ya gonna stare at it or sleep in it?"

She carefully pulled herself under the covers, and they were surprisingly soft. "You know, I could sleep in the chair if you want. I'd fit better."

Spot flung the blanket over his body and turned his back to her. "Shuddup," was all he said in reply. A few minutes later it seemed to Zoey that he had fallen asleep.

And just like that she felt alone again, how had the darkness come so quickly? Could she fall asleep after a terror like that? Zoey squeezed her eyes tight and tried to count backwards from fifty, the way her old nanny had taught her.

49, 48, 47.

She could still picture the art room perfectly.

43, 42, 41.

The grip on her neck had felt so real.

She couldn't breathe.

36, 35, 34.

All you need is love...

29, 28, 27.

Sto-

A hand shook her shoulder from behind. Immediately she was snapped out of her vile thoughts.

"Move over." It was Spot. She didn't turn around for fear that he would see her tears that she knew were falling from her face. She scooted forward, closer to the wall that the bed fell alongside.

Spot slid in next to her, but didn't invade her personal space much. He hadn't known she was freaking out, had he? She didn't want him to think she really was crazy.

"I thought you could survive on less…" Zoey's teasing voice sounded forced even to herself so she drifted off near the end of her almost question.

"Doesn't mean I do it if I don't hafta," he replied.

Zoey nodded her head in response even though she wasn't looking at him. She decided to chance a glance to see what position he was sleeping in. Slowly she looked over her shoulder and was shocked to see his eyes still wide open, watching her carefully. She whipped back to face the wall but she knew it was too late; with the moonlight streaming through the window behind him he was sure to see the wetness of her face.

He didn't say anything, but his silence disturbed her more than the alternative, because she had had yet to experience it. They were both under the covers and Zoey suspected most girls in this time would be scandalized. Oh if they only knew what was in store. She shivered from the cool air of the room but didn't dare move to adjust the blanket.

Zoey figured the best thing to do was pretend to be sleeping. It had worked many a time for her with other guy friends so this time shouldn't be much different. She felt a hand touch the middle of her back but still she didn't move. It drifted over her shoulder and Zoey fought to stay frozen.

'Don't move,' she thought.

And then she felt a sudden warmness. Spot's hand was no longer against her flesh, he had pulled a blanket up to cover her shoulders fully. She let out a deep breath, and wondered why her heart was racing. She breathed in the smell of the blanket, and wondered if Spot smelt the same. When she peeked around her shoulder again his eyes were closed, some of his ashy hair falling in his eyes.

Zoey had an urge to reach out and brush them out of his face but she turned back around instead, and closed her eyes.

She was no longer cold, and she didn't dream.