Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill or any of its characters.

A/N: Hi guys. Sorry again for the long wait. Thank you, as always, to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. Love you all.

…

Peyton tossed around restlessly on the couch where her parents had set up her temporary "room". They figured it would be easier for her than trying to climb a full flight of stairs on crutches.

She'd come home from the hospital two days ago, and though she should feel glad to have gotten out of there, the truth was she didn't really care. It made little difference to her where she moped, except that at least at home she didn't have doctors and nurses forcing her out of bed for small walks to begin rehabilitation on her leg. Neither did she have a sexual assault counselor coming in daily trying to make her talk about what had happened to her. That was a definite bonus. She didn't want to talk, especially to someone who sat there taking notes of her every word, every reaction. Who needed that?

Her friends made it a point to come over every day, always with their vain attempts to cheer her up. She didn't respond to any of them. Didn't they understand that she didn't want cheering up? That sitting there all day feeling how she was feeling was exactly what she wanted? Nobody seemed to get that. With the exception of Nathan, of course, who seemed more than happy to leave her be.

She sat up straight, giving up on sleep. She could never sleep these days—at least not without those damn dreams that made her feel like she was experiencing the ordeal all over again. She definitely didn't need that.

Turning on the lamp, she glanced across the room at her parents. They'd set up an air mattress on the floor for themselves after the first night Peyton had woken them up with a frightful scream after one of those said dreams. They didn't want her to be alone—figured their presence would calm her and ease her mind a little, at least enough to sleep.

She neither argued nor agreed with their assessment. In fact, she didn't say anything at all, just stared out, her eyes carrying that same empty look they'd had for days.

She couldn't bring herself to care how much her family and friends worried about her. She just wished they'd keep their concerns to themselves instead of constantly trying to snap her out of a mood she was perfectly content to stay in.

On the coffee table in front of her sat her iPod and her sketch book—more lame attempts from her loved ones to make her feel better, thinking that by having her favorite things surrounding her and easily accessible that she'd start being herself again.

She had yet to listen to a single song or sketch a picture. She had no desire to do either. No desire to do anything.

It's not that she was trying to upset or worry anyone; she was just having a hard time caring about any of it right now. And the sooner her friends and family figured that out, the better.

…..

Whereas Peyton didn't care about anything, Nathan was the opposite—he cared about everything. Things that a week ago, he'd never have thought he'd care about. How Lucas was doing. How his Uncle Keith had come over this morning to discuss Dan's abuse with him. How his own actions affected the people around him.

How he was responsible for not only one rape, but two.

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat seemingly a permanent fixture ever since the truth about everything had come crashing down on him. He didn't see it going away any time soon.

Not that he wanted it to. He deserved to feel this way—to feel as much pain as he'd inflicted on others, if that were even possible.

He still hadn't touched that bottle of whiskey he'd snuck up to his room. Why should he get to forget the mess he'd made?

Yesterday he'd run out of cutting room on his burnt arm so he'd moved on to the other arm, cutting deeper every time. Today he made his first cut into the fleshy area of his upper leg. He didn't even flinch as he did so. The pain and blood barely even fazed him anymore.

That wasn't supposed to happen. The whole point of it was to punish himself, not to become immune to the pain. He sighed in frustration as he pushed the blade down harder.

As he did so he saw Haley's terrified face when he'd confronted her in the tutor center. He'd been so amused by her terror, never thinking that she had true cause for fear. He'd just kept on taunting her, entertained by the tiny girl's trembles. Yep, making fun of his own rape victim; did a person get any worse than that?

His eyes darted to his closet where, inside, behind the door and out of plain view, hung the end of it all should he either quit torturing himself or run out of ways to do so. The rope hung from a hook in the ceiling, put there himself just this morning, to be used when he decided he'd suffered enough.

He wasn't sure when or even if that day would come, but it was comforting to know his anguish could be gone in an instant. Certainly everyone who ever knew him would be better off without him. Haley. Lucas. His parents.

Peyton.

He'd never deserved her love, and he knew that now better than ever.

A knock interrupted him from his thoughts. His mom, of course. She never gave up trying to draw him out of his room. He'd never realized how stubborn she was. This time she was telling him that Jake Jagielski wanted to see him.

He rolled his eyes. Didn't she get that he didn't want company? She'd already made him come out this afternoon to see Cooper and Jess off, and then again when Keith had stopped by with questions he was way too late with. "Tell him I'm not here," he shouted.

"I'm standing right here, Nate," Jake replied. "Come on, open up. We need to talk."

"Yeah, maybe later," Nathan scoffed.

"You know, " Jake began, "I'd think this was about the whole me testifying against you thing if I didn't know you were freezing everyone else out too. Come on, Nate, what's going on?" He waited for a response but there was none forthcoming. "You're gonna have to come out of hiding sooner or later," he said. "You can't avoid us forever."

"Thanks," Nathan muttered irritably. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You do that. And remember too that when you finally do re-emerge, your friends are here."

It was all he said before leaving. His friend was stubborn as hell at the best of times, and Jake knew very well that he wouldn't open that door until the day he was good and ready. Apparently today wasn't that day. At least not for Jake.

Tim wasn't so quick to be dismissed when he dropped by minutes later. It always did take him longer to catch on to stuff like that. Nathan was his boy and he missed hanging out, but even he eventually got the picture and left in defeat.

And all Nathan could wish was that everyone just leave him the hell alone. Was that so much to ask? Couldn't they see that they all deserved a better friend than he'd ever been to them?

….

"I'm really worried about her," Brooke stated gloomily a week later at lunch.

Most of the kids who'd been in the boiler room nearly two weeks ago now had returned to school either late last week or early this week. Even Lucas had been released from the hospital and had returned to school the next day.

Only three were missing from that group; Nathan, Peyton, and Damien.

Damien, if there were any justice at all, would never return again.

Since his arrest, four other girls, including the ex-cheerleader and Haley's new friend, Gracie, had come forward to tell of their own sexual assault at Damien West's hands. One other girl was also from Tree Hill High, whereas the other two were from different parts of town. All of them had been too ashamed and afraid to speak out on their own, but once they knew they weren't alone, they'd gained the courage to let their voices be heard. Who knew how many others out there would be following suit?

Needless to say, it looked like Damien would be spending a long time behind bars. If not, there would be a lot of angry people in that small town.

"I am too," Rachel agreed with Brooke's comment about Peyton. It was probably fair to say that they all worried about Peyton. It seemed with each passing day, the blonde retreated more and more into herself, silently but effectively pushing all those who cared about her away.

Jake nodded his head in agreement. He'd been to see Peyton several times since she'd left the hospital and, though she sat with him, it was clear she wasn't really with him. She didn't contribute to conversations, and barely even acknowledged there was a conversation. She just stared out ahead of her at nothing and said nothing. Like with Nathan, he could chalk that up to her resentment over his testimony in court. She'd certainly been as angry as Nathan had been about that. But also like Nathan, he knew she was like that with everyone.

However, unlike with Nathan, at least he could visit with Peyton face to face. Even if she didn't acknowledge his presence. Of course, that was only because she couldn't yet get up the stairs to her room, but that was besides the point. "Have you been to see Nate at all this week?" he asked Brooke.

The brunette huffed at the question. "Why bother?" she asked haughtily. "He doesn't let anyone in? And don't even get me started on him," she continued. "I am so pissed at him right now for bailing on Peyton when she needs him the most."

"He's having a hard time too," Jake reasoned.

"Oh, please," Brooke scoffed. "He was released from the hospital the very same day."

"Not what I meant."

"I know what you meant. He feels guilty, I get it, but that's no excuse for not being there for her."

Rachel nodded agreeably. "Especially since she's always been there for him. Even when they were broken up."

"Exactly," Brooke stated firmly. "You know what? We should go over there, if for no other reason than to just let him have it."

"Probably not a good idea," Jake said. "Like I said, I'm sure he already feels bad enough as it is."

"Yeah, I'm sure him and Jack Daniels are enjoying a nice pity party together."

"You ever think maybe there's something more going on with him?" Jake asked.

"Yeah," Brooke replied tautly. "He's being a bigger jerk than usual. Look, Jake, I know you feel guilty about the whole court thing so now you feel like you have to defend him or something…"

"That's not what I'm doing…"

"But don't try to stop me. He and I have never held back from each other, and this time won't be any different. He's gonna hear what I have to say whether he likes it or not. Even if I have to scream it through the bedroom door."

…..

Debra Scott sat in her living room, her mind a million miles away from the soap opera she'd settled on the television set. She really only had it on for the noise. The gigantic house she lived in was entirely too quiet these days. Save when she and Dan weren't arguing, that is.

They were doing so a lot more than usual lately. She was frustrated that he was so busy trying to make amends with the son he'd neglected years ago that he refused to see how much the son he'd raised needed him right now.

But she could see it clearly, recognizing all too well that look of despair and hopelessness in his eyes. She appealed to Dan relentlessly to make him understand, but her efforts fell on deaf ears. Somehow he saw no cause for concern in his youngest's behaviour, as proven by their latest argument just this morning.

Flashback

"Dan, I am telling you, he's not right. Something is terribly wrong with our son. He barely comes out of his room; he won't talk to any of his friends. He doesn't even go see Peyton, or even try to call her. That alone should tell you something's off."

Dan rolled his eyes at what he considered to be an overreaction on his wife's part. "What do you expect, Deb?" he asked reasonably. "The boy was held hostage, beaten and burned, among other things. Is he supposed to just snap out of it after a few days?" It was ridiculous to him that she would think that way.

"It's been almost two weeks, Dan!"

"Two weeks to deal with the biggest ordeal of his life," Dan scoffed. "You're right, he should be over it by now," he went on in the same tone.

"I'm not saying that…"

"Deb, it's only natural that it'll take him some time to readjust. Give the kid a break, will you?"

"You think leaving him alone is going to solve this problem?" she huffed. "It's more than just readjusting," she insisted. "He's shutting everyone out and that is not our son."

"I beg to differ," Dan argued. "You know how many times I've seen him go pout in his room?"

"Yes, when you've been on him about something," she replied. "But not for two weeks straight. This is different, Dan. He's not up there pouting. This isn't about some silly little disagreement."

"I know that, Deb," Dan acknowledged. "But it's normal after what he's been through. Once he's back in school and playing basketball, he'll be fine."

"Basketball is not the answer to everything!" Deb hollered.

"I just mean once he's back on a routine, which includes basketball, that he'll come around," Dan explained.

"And when exactly will that be?" she asked him. "He should have been back at school last week with most of the other kids."

"I agree," Dan said smoothly. "So then why isn't he?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why haven't you made him go to school?" he asked, more slowly.

"Why haven't you?" she countered.

"You're the one home with him, Deb. Some of us have to go to work," he pointed out. "So instead of sitting around popping pills all day, you could make sure our son gets out of bed and goes to school."

"You patronizing son of a bitch," she reeled. How dare he bring her addiction into this? She wouldn't comment on that. This wasn't about her. "You know he doesn't listen to a word I say," she told him.

"Gee, wonder why."

"No. No, I don't," she admitted. "But that's not the point. He needs his father, Dan, but you're too busy trying to earn brownie points with Lucas…"

"I'm not going to apologize for finally getting a chance to know my other son."

"And what about Nathan?"

"Nathan knows I'm always here for him, just like I've always been." He was really getting angry now. He hated when Deb accused him of not caring about Nathan. Of the two of them, he was the one who'd always seen to the boy's best interests.

"Does he?" Deb asked.

Dan's hands closed into tight fists at his side. Was she seriously asking him this? The nerve of her. "You're the one who's abandoned him his whole life," he said irately.

She nodded in acknowledgment. "And I'm certainly paying for it now," she returned hotly. "Believe me, if I could go back and do it all over again, I'd be home with him every day and he wouldn't hate me. But the fact of the matter is, he does, and because of that, he won't listen to me. I take full responsibility for my absenteeism in his life, but right now is not the time for us to be debating our roles. It's not the time for you to step back and let the parent he doesn't trust run things, just to prove a point. As much as I'd like to be able to get through to him, you're the one he needs to hear from."

Dan sighed and unclenched his fist. Her admission of her abandonment and her regret over it made him less angry. But he still thought she was exaggerating this whole thing. "Deb, I really think you're worrying over nothing…"

"Nothing?" she practically hissed. "Yesterday was his follow-up appointment at the doctor's and he didn't go. Do you know why? Because I couldn't get him to come out of his room," she revealed.

"So reschedule," Dan said calmly.

"I have. Twice," she told him hotly. "It was originally last week, rescheduled for yesterday. Dan, I'm telling you, you need to talk to him. He is not as ok as you think he is!"

"Fine," he conceded. "I'll talk to him."

"When?" she wanted to know. "Tonight?"

He shook his head. "I told Lucas I'd drop a book off to him…"

"And how long will that take?"

"Well, I'd like to sit and visit with him awhile."

"Of course."

"Deb, he's my son. He had a heart attack. I'm lucky to even have this chance with him."

"Uh huh," she replied snarkily. "Well, Nathan's your son too, and at just as much risk of having HCM as Lucas. Have you even thought about that?"

"Of course I have," he returned in a low angry tone. Did she really think he wouldn't have looked into a possibly deadly condition his youngest son may have? "I had him tested last year when I was diagnosed with it," he revealed. "Thankfully, he doesn't have it."

"You had him tested?" she questioned, to which he nodded. "Why didn't I know about that?"

He shrugged his shoulders and mocked. "You were out saving the world."

"Are you telling me the truth?" she asked suspiciously. God, she hoped he was.

"Deb, I know I'm a lot of things, but that boy is my life. You know that."

She stared at him hard for a long while, searching his eyes for the truth. Eventually she nodded, her instincts telling her that he was sincere. He would never jeopardize Nathan's life for anything. She did know that. And yet, she knew he'd told a different story to Lucas and she called him on it. "Didn't you tell Lucas you didn't realize it was hereditary until he had his heart attack?"

Shame crossed his features and he looked down to the floor. "What was I supposed to tell him?" he asked, a desperate edge to his tone. "That he was so far from my mind at that time that I didn't even think to get him tested too? That when the doctor told me it could be passed down that all I thought to do was to bring Nathan in and pray he'd been spared?"

Deb gasped as his words sunk in. "Dan, that boy could have died."

"Don't you think I know that? You don't think I wish I'd done things differently? You have your regrets, Deb, and I have mine."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So, you now trying to be in Lucas' life, is that about you wanting to make up for lost time or about easing your guilty conscience?"

"You know I wanted to be a part of his life when he was younger," he said defensively. "Karen wouldn't let me."

"Yeah," Deb agreed. "And you gave up."

"What was I supposed to do? She turned the kid against me. Made me out to be a monster with the lawyers. Now he's making up his own mind, and I finally get a chance to show him what kind of father I can be."

"Isn't it a little late for that?" she argued. "You think a few visits and some books are going to make up for everything?"

"It's a start," he answered. "At least he's somewhat speaking to me now."

She sighed in response. "And as great as that is for you," she began, "Nathan needs you here. Now more than ever. Please don't forget that."

He sighed too and ran his hands over his hair. "Look, you and Nate are my top priorities," he said earnestly. "If I thought, for one second, that this situation was as serious as you seem to think, I'd march up there right now, break the door down, and drag him out by the hair if I had to."

She wished he would. "Dan…"

"But I believe he can work this out on his own and get through it. Babying him isn't going to do him any good."

"Who said anything about babying him?" Deb countered. "I just want you to talk to him."

"And I will," he said. "He won't miss his next appointment, you can be sure of that."

End of Flashback

She wiped the tears she hadn't realized had fallen. Her husband didn't understand that the missed appointments weren't her only concern. That was only part of the overall picture. He couldn't grasp the significance of the sheer hopelessness in their son's eyes. He didn't even recognize it.

Perhaps only someone who'd been in that dark place could recognize it. Perhaps that's why she did. It terrified the hell out of her.

She was glad when the doorbell sounded and she found Brooke and Rachel standing on the other side. She was grateful to all those who cared enough about her son to keep pressing him to join the outside world again. It made her feel less alone in this.

She offered them a trembling smile and opened the door wide to let them pass through. Unnecessarily, she revealed that Nathan was in his room, and told them to go on up.

She watched as the two girls did as told, praying this time would be the time he let someone in. The selfish part of her wanted to be the one to help him through this, but the realistic part of her told her that wouldn't happen. All she could hope for now was that someone got through to him. It didn't really matter who.

….

"Nice to see her finally getting some shut eye," Ellie said as she and Larry gazed over their daughter, who'd managed, after several days, to doze off. "You can tell she was exhausted."

"Yeah," Larry agreed, rubbing his own weary eyes. "For how long though?" he questioned.

Ellie had to wonder that too. Every time Peyton nodded off, she'd awaken minutes later with a horrified scream. Before that she would toss and turn, mumbling, sometimes incoherently, other times very clearly. All times her tone was laced with both fear and dread.

She'd always talked in her sleep—ever since she was a little girl—and Larry had never worried about it. He did now. Not the talking per say, but the words she said and the obvious terror behind them.

More often than not she was crying out for Nathan—either calling for his help or warning him against some grave danger.

Yes, in her dreams Nathan was her protector and savior. And she was his.

As a father, it didn't sit well with Larry that his daughter looked to another to keep her from harm. That was his job. But, of course, that was just his pride talking. The rational part of him knew that he hadn't been at the school that day and so was grateful that someone else could take over that role, at least in that moment.

It was just too bad he couldn't have done it sooner—before Peyton had been raped. Still, she was alive. Larry hated to think what would have happened if Nathan had never shown up at all.

"You think she's remembering?" Ellie questioned, breaking into his thoughts.

He shrugged uncertainly. The counselor at the hospital had said Peyton could remember at any moment. And yet, she could also never remember at all. He certainly hoped for the latter. "I'm not sure," he said. "I hope not."

"Me too."

"I've never lied to her in my life," he told Ellie. "I have to say, it still doesn't feel right."

"I know," Ellie said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"If she ever finds out the truth, she'll never forgive us," he predicted. He couldn't handle that.

"Or maybe she'll be grateful that we tried to spare her the grief of knowing that bit of information."

"I hope you're right because I've got this nagging feeling that I made the wrong choice."

"So, you want to tell her?" Ellie asked. "To me it seems she's having a hard enough time dealing with everything that the truth might just set her back that much more."

"You think so? Because to me, she's not dealing with it at all."

"Really? So she's always so distant and withdrawn?" Ellie countered. "To this extent, Larry?"

"No," he admitted. "I think that's why she shut down; so she doesn't have to deal with it," he answered. "I think she's trying to bury the whole incident within herself so that she doesn't have to feel anything. Think about it, she doesn't get angry, she doesn't cry. She's an emotional girl, Ellie. She always has been. This…this…empty shell, this…emotionless person, it's not her. It's not her at all."

"Well, the counselor did say it may take time before she's ready to process what happened to her."

"I understand that," Larry said. "But as long as she keeps herself disconnected from everyone and everything she cares about, I don't see how that's supposed to happen."

"So you think telling her the truth would help?"

"I don't know what to think," he confessed. "All I know is I want my baby girl back. I think she needs to talk to someone," he said. "A professional," he clarified. "Even if she doesn't remember the rape, what she went through was traumatic. For anyone. I think maybe talking to a counselor would help her sort through her feelings. God knows she's not doing that herself."

Ellie nodded agreeably. What he said made sense. But he was forgetting one thing. "And if talking to a counselor is what jogs her memory?" she pointed out.

He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "I don't know," he repeated. "I don't know much of anything anymore, except that she probably wouldn't even go to a therapist anyway, unless I forced her."

"You can't really do that."

"I can," he disagreed. "She's only seventeen. I could make her go if I wanted."

"But you can't make her talk," Ellie reasoned.

"Can't make her talk," he repeated, knowing very well how true a statement that was. Since she'd come home from the hospital everyone had tried so hard to encourage some communication from the blonde, but she continued to resist. "I don't know what the hell to do."

"I don't either," Ellie returned hopelessly. "Keep trying to reach her, I guess," she suggested. "What else can we do?"

"Wish I had the answer to that," Larry replied just before Nathan's name, once again, escaped the sleeping girl's lips.

"According to Brooke, he's probably the only one who could get through to her."

Larry sighed in resignation. "Seeing as he bolted the second things might get hard for them, I'm gonna hope to hell that's not true," he said. "The last thing she needs is a guy who when the tough gets going, gets gone."

"Yeah," Ellie agreed. "Makes sense though. She didn't shut down until she realized he wasn't coming around."

Larry wished he could disagree but knew he couldn't. As they'd mentioned to the counselor in the hospital, Peyton had seemed more distraught by Nathan's absence than by Damien's attack. He couldn't imagine that was normal, and certainly couldn't be healthy.

He began to tell Ellie as much but their conversation was cut short when Peyton awoke with a jolt—her usual manner as of late.

Both parents were at her side instantly, offering comfort in whatever way she would accept. The young girl's body quivered with fear, but her eyes rejected their help as their empty orbs seemed to stare right through them rather than at them.

Neither parent knew how to help her, or how much more they could take of this without completely breaking down themselves.

…..

"Oh shit," Nathan cursed under his breath as he anxiously reached for another Kleenex to dab at his arm. The flimsy tissue, however, was useless against the torrent of blood pouring out, and it quickly shredded to pieces, forcing him to reach for several more.

His hands shook and his heart pounded as the blood gushed from his newly made incision.

He'd gone too far, he realized. Had cut too deep. Now he couldn't stop the bleeding. Vaguely he considered that he must have hit a vein.

Tossing aside the ineffective tissue, he grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and pressed it against his arm. Within seconds even that material was soaked. It was all he could do not to panic. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The room began to spin as the onset of dizziness overtook him. He wasn't sure if it was the loss of blood that caused this or his weak stomach's reaction to seeing it leaving his body at such an alarming rate. Either way he could feel himself about to pass out.

He turned sharply when a hard pounding came to the bedroom door. The action only made his head spin more.

Angry voices screamed at him from the other side, ordering him to open the damn door.

Brooke and Rachel.

Slowly he stood from his bed. If he could just get to the door and unlock it, it would all be okay.

But the room spun out of control when he did, and his feet gave out from beneath him. Another silent curse escaped his lips as he collapsed to the floor with a loud thud.

All he could think of before he blacked out was that he didn't want to live this way.

But he didn't want to die.

…

The crutches made it more than a little awkward for her to close the bathroom door, but she was getting used to it and had found the perfect way to maneuver herself into the tiny space.

She took several trips a day to this little room, not only to answer nature's call and wash up, but also to get away from the many faces that surrounded her constantly. This was the only place she could have complete privacy. Even then someone, usually Ellie or Brooke, would come knocking to see if she was alright.

Couldn't they just back off?

She strutted over to the mirror above the sink, gazing at the reflection before her. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes dull, her hair limp. It was easily her most unattractive look.

But what did she care? What did she have to look pretty for? And more so, what had looking pretty gotten her?

Raped.

Yes, she knew the truth, despite her parents' lies to the contrary. She'd known it all along. Even while she'd vehemently denied it, deep down, she'd known.

She wasn't angry at her parents for the deception. They figured she couldn't handle the reality of what had happened to her.

They were right; she couldn't.

With Nathan's support, she might have been able to keep it buried and ignored her feelings of shame.

But she didn't have his support. Clearly he didn't want her anymore, and without him she couldn't find the strength to even try.

Every time she closed her eyes, her dreams made her time in that boiler room all the more vivid—her memories more detailed and pronounced. Until she remembered every dreadful second.

She couldn't take it anymore. The horror and pain was too much. She wasn't strong enough for this.

And if Nathan didn't love her anymore, then what was even the point of trying?

Opening the medicine cabinet, she reached for her pills; pain meds prescribed to her following her surgery. She was to take one to two capsules every four hours or as needed.

At first it had been pure agony awaiting those four long hours, but the throbbing in her leg had subsided substantially in the few weeks since the bullet had been removed, making the need for the medicine decrease as well.

The bottle was still half full. The pills had sufficiently fulfilled their purpose. When she took them, her pain went away quickly. The physical pain, that is.

They did nothing to soothe her aching heart.

But she knew how they could.

She twisted the child-resistant lid and popped it off, tilting the bottle so that the pills spilled into her open palm.

They could easily take care of her misery, free her from the horrible inner turmoil she experienced daily.

There was no escape from it otherwise.

It wasn't something she'd been considering, but in that moment she made a split second decision. She could end all the pain right now.

It was a concept too tempting to resist.

She put her hand up, shoving the lot of the remaining pills into her mouth, washing them down with water directly from the tap.

She took another look in the mirror and then left the room, making her way over to her usual position on the couch. She could feel her parents' eyes on her every step of the way. Surprisingly, they didn't rush to her side to help her get to the couch. Perhaps they finally realized she could do it herself.

She lay down, burying her head in the soft pillow and pulling the cozy comforter over her.

School hours had just ended so any time now, her friends would start pouring in.

But today she wouldn't have to see the pity and concern that crossed their features. Today that would all be over.

All she could think of as she closed her eyes, darkness taking over, was that she didn't want to live this way.

She wanted to die.

…..

A/N: I know, no NP again. You probably all want to shoot me. I'm sorry. But I hope you still enjoyed the chapter and caught the sort of symbolism there toward the end. And in case you don't hear from me before, I want to wish everyone who celebrates a very Merry Christmas!