I groaned when I opened my eyes, feeling the pain in my wrist immediately. “Damn it,” I cursed angrily.

“What? What?” I saw Mike jump up in alarm in to the doorway, and then he settled down. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” I said quietly. He smiled weakly at me, walking over and giving me a big hug.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Shitty. Guilty. Terrible,” I said emotionlessly. I sighed roughly, running my hands up my face in stress. I gripped my hair once tightly, and then I quickly let go and slammed both of my fists into the mattress around me in anger.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Mike said, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. Tears prickled in my eyes; God Vic, why are you so weak?

“I can’t believe I fucking did this,” I growled. “I’m a grown man for God’s sake,” I added.

“It doesn’t matter, Vic, okay? Just forget about it,” Mike said. I shook my head.

“Don't you get it, Mike? I can’t forget about it!” I said, feeling absolutely helpless.

Mike sighed. “No one can,” he said very quietly. I nodded, closing my eyes and exhaling. I wasn’t the only one who hurt. Granted, I probably hurt a lot more, but they hurt a lot, nonetheless.

“Sorry,” I said, wrapping him into another hug.

“It’s okay. Really,” he patted my head. “Come one, let’s have breakfast,” he said. I nodded, following him out to the kitchen.

“Wait! What happened with Charlie?” I asked in a loud whisper, stopping in my tracks.

“She didn’t hear or see a thing,” he smirked. I didn’t ask what he meant by that or why he made a face like that; I just rolled my eyes. When Mike was up to no good, I didn’t ask questions.

“Is she awake now?” I whispered again.

He nodded, gesturing to the kitchen. “I’ve been chilling with her,” he shrugged his shoulders. “She feels awkward, so be nice,” he told me.

“Of course I’ll be nice,” I rolled my eyes.

“Good morning, Charlie,” I smiled broadly at the girl who was sitting shyly at the kitchen table. She smiled back softly.

“Good morning,” she said.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, subconsciously pulling my sleeve down over my wrist.

“To be honest, I feel like I was hit by a truck,” she frowned slightly. I heard Mike chuckle and cough on his coffee, and I raised an eyebrow at him before shrugging it off.

“Do you need anything?” I asked. She shook her head.

“No, thanks. Thanks though,” she smiled.

“Alright,” I said, yawning. Mike was in the kitchen making something that smelt amazing. “What are you making, brotha’?”

“Belgium waffles,” he said in a high-pitched moan. I groaned in embarrassment, resting my forehead on the table. Charlie laughed lightly beside me, her laugh ringing like Christmas bells. I lifted my head up and laughed with her, seeing her soft-almost-grey-blue eyes lighten up. Those were the kind of eyes that you could get lost in; they weren’t shocking… they were mysterious.

“Thanks, slave,” I grinned when he gave us each a waffle and some syrup.

“At your service,” he smacked the back of my head.

“You guys are funny,” Charlie commented. I smiled, nodding in agreement. Mike and I had a weird relationship. We were assholes to each other, we occasionally beat each other up, we were morons together, but we also were nice and thoughtful and helpful to each other. Except, lately, Mike has been more of the nice, thoughtful, and helpful one. I didn’t know what I would do without Mike. You’d be dead.

I shivered. The voice in my head was right. If I didn’t have Mike, I would be dead. I would have died a long time ago. Nobody would have saved me when I tried to cut myself to death in high school. I would have nobody to make proud and nobody to change my ways for. I owed Mike a lot.

It was interesting; just moments ago, I was crying and an absolute mess, but now we were acting like nothing was wrong. I hated that, but it was also nice. We weren’t exactly faking it right now, but in the back of my head I knew we had a serious problem that we needed to face sooner or later.

Five months after Spencer’s death, I was strong. I was sad, but I was strong. I genuinely thought everything would be okay. But time was eating me alive; now, two years after she left the Earth, I was weaker than ever. I was just blessed to have Mike to lean on when I could hardly stand up on my own two legs.

We finished our breakfasts silently, letting the crunchy outside and fluffy middle of the waffles fill our mouths and our minds.

“Om, nom, nom!” Mike stood up, shaking out his arms and legs as he obnoxiously finished his waffle. “That’s good shit right there,” he said.

I chuckled, rolling my eyes. I stood up and took both my and Charlie’s plate to the sink. “Oh, I can do it!” she said, standing up too.

“Nonsense,” I said, waving it off with my left hand. I grimaced when the motion made my cut pull. Mike looked at me knowingly.

“Thanks so much, for everything,” she said. “It’s all so unnecessary, but it means a lot,” she continued, realness evident in her features and tone.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least we can do!” I said.

“The least! You already saved me from dying, I can’t imagine asking anything else from you!” she exclaimed.

“Well, that’s too bad,” I grinned mischievously. “I’ll give you a ride back to your place, if you want!” I suggested.

Mike nodded in approval at my suggestion. He seemed to be very enthusiastic whenever I made an effort to be social.

“I can get a ca—”

“No way,” I insisted. “A seven hour cab will cost a fortune. Plus, that’s boring and awkward.”

She twiddled her thumbs nervously, as if she didn’t want to be in a car with some stranger for seven hours. I didn’t blame her; I wasn’t particularly comfortable myself, but Mike looked overjoyed at my efforts, and I didn’t want to let him down.

“A road trip would be fun!” I smiled encouragingly. Besides, she knew me a little better than some random car service driver.

“Alright. If you really want to... I don’t want to be much trouble, though, so—”

“Nah, please don’t worry about it,” I cut her off again.

“Okay,” she said shyly, sending me a crooked smile.

“Sweet,” I grinned.

I didn’t really know how to carry myself from that point, so I just kind of stood their awkwardly, as did she.

“So!” Mike bounced in, saving the day once again. “I’ll go get gas for you, brother, while you get cleaned up,” Mike said. Oh, Mike. I owed that kid a fortune.

“Good plan,” I said. I hoped we weren’t giving Charlie an odd vibe though; I hoped we didn’t seem creepy and fake to her, and I hoped that she thought we were genuine, despite the heavy cloak of awkwardness painfully weighing all of us down. Because we really were being genuine, it was just hard to show. We barely knew each other, anyway.

When Mike left, I turned to Charlie. “So, it’s a long drive, so I can just let you borrow some of my clothes to wear that will be more comfortable,” I offered.

“Okay, whatever,” she said lightly, flashing me another dazzling smile.

“Here, uh, if you need to shower there’s one in the guest room, and here’s a t-shirt and pants,” I said, handing her the clothing items that someone had laid out already (Note to self: thank Mike profusely the next time you see him.)

“Thank a lot,” she said. “Damn, I sound like a broken record,” she shook her head with a chuckle.

“You really don’t have to thank me,” I shrugged my shoulders, smiling weakly at her. “So, we’ll leave in like, an hour, I guess? Is that enough time to be ready?”

“Yeah! Totally!” she said.

I smiled at her again before I turned back to my room. Maybe if you smile enough it will feel become real, the voice said. I rolled my eyes, as if the little voice in my head was an actual person. I was not being fake-nice. That kind of behavior was out of my nature. Being awkward and flustered around a pretty girl who came into my life through an unfortunate event, however… Life enjoyed fucking with me. It literally slammed me into the life of Charlie, forcing us to befriend each other thanks to what happened. I felt like a stone wall was pushing me into her life. I mean, it wasn’t that I felt obliged to befriend her, I just felt like it was necessary. Awkward, but necessary. My head was a mess.

I took my time getting ready for the day, gathering my thoughts. I really only had to shower, put on clean clothes, and clean my bandage from yesterday, but I savored every step.

I warmed up the water, but I immediately regretted doing so as soon as the liquid touched my skin. Or should I say burned. The heat of the water made steam rise around me, and I felt trapped. The horrible sensation of burning alive took over my senses. I stood in the fire—er, the water—for a few moments, being paralyzed by fear, recognition, and torture. My lungs felt clouded with smoke, and my eyes burned. My skin boiled, and it took every ounce of energy to hastily reach for the handle and jerk it to the right, cooling the water almost immediately.

I sighed in relief, recovering from the memories that the hot water rekindled. I shivered, but I allowed the cold water to continue running. The coolness was refreshing, as if I was washing away every thing inside of me. I felt fresh, new, clean. I knew the feeling wouldn’t last long—I did this basically every night—but for now, I savored the feeling of the cold water splashing on my body, erasing all bad thoughts and clearing my head.

I cringed when the water hit my cut as I washed it out; this was the first time I have actually looked at it since last night. I was immediately disgusted. The skin around it was red and inflamed, while the cut itself looked like it was in bolded print. It also stung so bad that I thought that I could actually see the cut vibrate from the pulse of stinging. It partially healed over night, showing a dark, thick line.

I shook my head, disgusted at the sight but more disgusted at myself for doing this to myself. I was a few months shy of thirty years old, for God sakes. Nothing you can do about it, now, I sighed.

I flipped my head, quickly towel drying my hair. It was still damp and messy, but I had no time to fuss with it because I took longer in the shower than I had thought. I stuffed my hair in a snap back, pulled on black skinny jeans, and remained shirtless to take care of my cut. I ventured my way back into the bathroom and dug out the first aid kit. I retrieved hydrogen peroxide to clean it out with, Neosporin, and a bandage.

Before I attended to it, something flashed out of the corner of my eye. Shit, I thought to myself, but before I could do anything about it my right hand was reaching over to the blade that was sitting inside of the wastebasket of the bathroom.

I toyed it around in my fingertips for a moment, contemplating. My reflection just barely showed on the silver, and I felt, yet again, disgusted. I could see just enough through the tiny mirror-like object, noticing the longing look in my eyes, the desperation across my features. I wanted very much to throw it away, but I also wanted very much to drag it vertically up my arm.

No, Vic. Remember what you promised, I reminded myself. I also tried hard to brand this feeling of guilt and disgust into my brain, hoping that if I could remember this terrible feeling then I would be able to resist the urge, because I really hated feeling like this. I sighed, tossing the blade into the trashcan, where it belonged.

No, Vic! Don’t abandon me…

I growled, trying to ignore the voice in my head as I splashed the hydrogen peroxide onto my forearm. The cut burst into tiny white bubbles, and it tingles as it foamed up. Why, why, why? Why were these thoughts coming back to me now, of all times? The feelings I felt back in high school were swarming through my veins. It made me feel immature, pathetic, worthless… I felt like a child, but I was a grown adult. Kids looked up to me for God’s sake. I couldn’t think like this!

Then cut the feelings out… The voice chimed in. I shook my head.

“No,” I said, my voice husky. I looked at myself in the mirror, despising every aspect of my physical appearance. What was wrong with my confidence, right now?

I’m waiting… the voice called out again.

“You just won’t leave me alone, will you?” I snarled, snatching the blade up from the trashcan again.

I went into my room and grabbed a roll of tape, sticking the blade in my cabinet underneath the sink, where no one would find it. Except me. “Later,” I promised in a whisper.

The thing about me and promises, though, is that I have no problem breaking them.

Freshly aggravated and greatly disturbed at my thoughts, I finished bandaging my arm and threw on a Key Street tank top and a flannel. I put on my classic black vans and exited my room.

“You okay?” Mike asked, his eyes flickering to my arm.

“Yes,” I breathed in annoyance.

“I thought I heard you talking to yourself, again,” Mike stared at me accusingly, and I glared at him. Stop having mood swings with your brother, Vic. I tried to soften my features a little because Mike didn’t deserve my attitude. He deserved a better brother, and I sure as hell didn’t deserve him. .

“Oh,” was all I managed to say before Charlie appeared. I studied her carefully. Her hair fell naturally past her shoulders, a soft, chocolate brown and a natural wave. Her face was also natural given that she had no make-up here, but I preferred it like that. Her cheeks had a light rosy color to them, and her blue-grey eyes continued to mystify me.

She wore a pair of my sweatpants and a different key street t-shirt, and, even though they were baggy and unflattering on me, she wore them well. I looked like a hobo when I wore stuff like that, but, then again, I was a dude. Girls seemed to have this talent of making ugly clothes look good.

I realized I probably was staring at her for a little too long, and her already rosy cheeks grew redder. “Hey,” I finally spoke up, my voice annoyingly tight and awkward.

She waved softly, looking like she was unable to form words. I didn’t blame her; my level of awkwardness was not helping out her level of awkwardness.

Mike sighed obnoxiously, walking to a drawer in the kitchen, and returned with a knife.

“Uh… what are you doing?” I stared at him warily.

“Cutting the tension in the room with this rather large knife. Vic, why do we have this giant knife?” Mike asked, slicing at the air in between Charlie and I.

I nearly face palmed at Mike’s actions, and an amused grin stretched across my face. I eyed Charlie, seeing that she was holding back a laugh.

“Come on, Charlie, let’s get out of here, away from this freak,” I scoffed at Mike mockingly, sticking my tongue out at him as I swung an arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the car. I looked back at Mike as I walked, mouthing a “thank you” in his direction. He noticed, grinned, then saluted me.

I smirked at him and then continued to the car. The first few minutes were silent, but I forced myself to talk. I’ve never been this unsociable my entire life; being a front man means talking a lot, and I’ve never had problems with that. So, what was getting into me?

“Have you ever been to San Diego before?” I asked, attempting small talk. I immediately regretted my question though. Charlie didn’t just choose to come to San Diego. This was no vacation, she was not just “stopping by”. I shivered, still ignorant to what happened to her, but still aware that it was horrible.

“Yeah, a few years ago, though. Just a visit,” she said lightly, seeming unfazed by my question. I needed to stop over thinking and talk like a normal human being, but for some reason, that seemed impossible.

“Oh,” I said quietly. I was glad I was driving; it gave me something to do besides stare into space.

“Do you like music?” I tried again, smiling encouragingly. I noticed a hint of a blush take over her face.

“Actually, I don’t really listen to music,” she said. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. No, scratch that: My jaw detached from my head, and I left it behind in San Diego.

“You don’t listen to music?” I gaped at her. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled weakly.

“I haven’t had the time!” she said, raising her hands up defensively.

“Wow,” I said, not being able to resist shaking my head in astonishment. “But music is so good!” I offered.

“I bet it is,” she said. “The music I hear isn’t. It’s all pop shit, and people singing about pussies, money, and weed,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, well that music sucks,” I agreed. “But there’s other genres out there, you know!” I informed her.

“Yeah, I know. I always just turn on the radio, though, and they seem to only play that shit. So I just stopped listening altogether,” she explained.

“Damn radio stations. They ruin music,” I shook my head.

“You’re very serious about this, aren’t you?” she asked with a chuckle.

“You bet I am,” I said. “Here,” I handed her my phone. “Plug that in and go to my music,” I instructed.

She did so, and I watched as she carefully plugged my iPhone into the adapter. She ever so slightly bit her lip in concentration as she sifted through my music selection.

“You have like every genre on here!” she exclaimed.

“Well, the music that you only hear on the radio is good for parties and being stupid,” I told her. “But then there’s what I like to call real music,” I said. “I’m giving you a music education, miss,” I said seriously, and she laughed.

“What song should I play first?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she continued to thumb through my collection of music.

“Hmm,” I thought. Part of me wanted to show her Pierce the Veil as a joke, but I didn’t want her to get suspicious. She’d figure out who I was sooner or later, and I wasn’t interested in being treated like a famous person. And everybody who knew me as “Vic Fuentes lead singer of Pierce the Veil” knew about what had happened with… Spencer… and I really just didn’t want to talk about that with Charlie. I didn’t want to be associated with that part of my life right now. This was a nice break.

“Let's see… play Third Eye Blind’s “Semi-Charmed Life”. It’s classic,” I suggested, shrugging my shoulders.

I grinned at Charlie while I sang the introducing “doo-doo-doo”’s. She giggled softly and I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

I sighed in satisfaction when the song began, the basic music filling the still air. I smiled as I drove down the deserted road, nodding my head as I lightly sang along.

“I'm packed and I'm holding

I'm smiling, she's living, she's golden

She lives for me, says she lives for me

Ovation, her own motivation

She comes round and she goes down on me

And I make her smile, like a drug for you

Do ever what you wanna do, coming over you

Keep on smiling, what we go through

One stop to the rhythm that divides you

And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse

Chop another line like a coda with a curse

Come on like a freak show takes the stage

We give them the games we play, she said...

I want something else, to get me through this

Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby

I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye…”

I stopped singing, settling on mouthing the lyrics instead. I liked to hear the rawness of the song, which was incredibly fulfilling. I eyed Charlie, hoping to find some sort of reaction on her feautures. Her head was slightly bobbing to the music, also, and she had a soft smile on her lips. And her eyes… they had a spark in them, but they continued to perplex me.

She must have felt my gaze, because she turned her head to look at me. I looked back at the road quickly.

“What next?” she asked as the song ended and as the next song, “Jumper”, began to play. Another classic, I smiled at myself as the lyrics danced in my mind. Everyone’s got to face down the demons… I made a mental note to listen to this album later; this record had a certain touch to it that always pleased me.

“Hmm,” I contemplated again. “Can’t go wrong with Ed Sheeran,” I suggested.

“Oh, I’ve heard this before!” she said excitedly, playing “The A Team”.

“Isn’t his voice magical?” I sighed.

She laughed lightly. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

The worst things in life come free to us… Ah, so much truth in that. You go Ed Sheeran.

She giggled again. I think I said that out loud, accidently. “Okay, what’s something else?” she asked, slightly bouncing in her seat enthusiastically. I smiled, thinking again.

“Oh!” I said, actually face palming. “How could I forget? The Bohemian Rhapsody! By Queen!” I said. She clicked on it, and I smiled widely.

“Is this the real life, is this just fantasy?

Caught in a land slide, no escape from reality…

Open your eyes, look up to the skies and seeeee….”

She stared at me wide eyed with amusement clear on her face as I imitated the song.

“I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy!

Because I’m just: Easy come, easy go,

Little high, little low!

Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter

To me… To me…”

I clenched my right wrist and pursed my lips as I sang with mock (yet serious) passion.

“Mama, just killed a man,

Put a gun against his head,

Pulled my trigger, now he's dead.

Mama, life had just begun,

But now I've gone and thrown it all away!

Mama, ooh,

Didn't mean to make you cry,

If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,

Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters!”

Charlie continued to stare at me, laughing, though. I matched my voice fluctuations playfully; exactly the way Queen did it.

“Too late, my time has come,

Sent shivers down my spine,

Body's aching all the time.

Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go,

Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth,”

The lyrics to this song were definitely interesting, but they could be very relatable at parts. This was one of those songs that seemed like it took a year to write or more, just by its complexity and pure awesomeness.

“Mama, ooh (any way the wind blows),

I don't wanna die,

I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!”

The music shifted in tone, and I wiggled my eyebrows at Charlie as the next part began. She widened her eyes even wider than before and looked as if she was going to die of laughter.

“I see a little silhouetto of a man,

Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?

Thunderbolt and lightning,

Very, very frightening me.

(Galileo) Galileo.

(Galileo) Galileo,

Galileo Figaro

Magnifico.

I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me.

He's just a poor boy from a poor family,

Spare him his life from this monstrosity.

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?

Bismillah! No, we will not let you go.

(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go.

(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go.

(Let me go) Will not let you go.

(Let me go) Will not let you go.

(Never, never, never let me go) Ah.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

(Oh, mama mia, mama mia) Mama mia, let me go.

Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me,”

I “air guitared” and head banged, all the while grinning at Charlie (and, of course, watching the road; but we were driving through the desert so I wasn’t too concerned).

“So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?

So you think you can love me and leave me to die?

Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,

Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!”

I took a deep breath after the fast part. I had literally sung every single vocal part, using crazy and exaggerated hand gestures and everything, and Charlie was cracking up in the seat next to me. I let the song finish without singing along, laughing with her as well. The power of music to break the ice!

“You’re ridiculous,” she giggled.

“Hey!” I pointed at her. “Respect,” I said sternly, playfulness evident in my eyes, though.

She rolled her eyes. “Who else do you like?” she asked. She tucked her knees into her chest and bobbed her head as she looked through my music.

“Letlive is good,” I suggested. “You might not like them, though. They’re different,” I explained. Different, but in the best way. She played “Renegade 86’”. She bit her lip and widened her eyes at the beginning—the song being a little rougher than the other songs I showed her—but her face relaxed as the song continued.

“Surprisingly, I like it,” she said truthfully. “His voice is cool. Sounds energetic,” she nodded in approval. I smiled widely at her.

“I think I’ve successfully converted you!” I grinned at my accomplishment.

“Congratulations, Vic, er, what’s your last name?”

“Fuentes,” I said, the name slipping out. I hoped she didn’t recognize it, either from the band or from the news. My name had popped up on the news several times during the ordeal with Spencer…

“Cool name. Well, congratulations, Vic Fuentes,” she grinned, giving me a high-five. “You’ll have to give me a list of some other music to check out, okay?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Will you put on “Across the Night” by Silverchair, please? It’s actually my favorite,” I requested. She put it on, and I turned it down so it was in the background.

“Music means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” she asked softly, her eyes twinkling with… with… something.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking about how gone I would be if I didn’t have music. I’ve lived off of it for the past two years. The way music brought together so many people always fascinated me, and the way music healed was incredible.

“That’s nice,” she smiled. I nodded. We were quiet for a few minutes, but luckily we never returned to the awkward state.

I noticed her yawn. “You can sleep if you want,” I said. “You must be tired.”

“No, that’s okay! I’ll stay up with you,” she said, but I caught her stifling another yawn.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “There’s a pillow in the back if you change your mind,” I said.

She nodded, and I couldn't help but notice her eyes darting to the pillow and back. I chuckled. “Sleep,” I said, smiling softly at her.

“Maybe for a few minutes,” she said slowly, reaching for the pillow. She fluffed it, and then she buried her face into it. “That’s a fluffy pillow right there,” she said.

“It’s got real feathers in it,” I said.

“Tempting…” she said, fluffing it again. She giggled, hiding her face from behind it. “Wake me up if I sleep too much,” she said. I nodded, and then she was out like a light.

I had to keep reminding myself to watch the road, because I was too preoccupied watching her. She was facing me in her seat, her knees curled into her chest and her arms hugging the pillow. Her head was against the window but tilted down so her right cheek pressed into the pillow. She looked extremely peaceful, and very, very beautiful.

Enough, Vic, I scolded myself for staring, and I moved my attention to the road.

The drive was mostly straight. Very straight, and very boring. It was nice, though. A good escape. I didn’t think about anything except the road in front of me and occasionally the sleeping girl beside me.

“Hello,” the now not sleeping girl beside me said.

“Hi,” I smiled. A few hours had passed, and I literally hadn’t even noticed.

“Thanks for letting me sleep,” she sighed.

“You’re very welcome,” I said with a friendly smile.

We spent the rest of the trip in small talk—nothing serious, just light-hearted conversations with some more music. I didn’t ask her about what happened to her, and I noticed her eyes dart to my left wrist, but she luckily didn’t ask about it, either.

“Thank so much, Vic,” she said when we arrived.

“Of course!” I said happily. The seven and a half hours in the car with her was the most painless seven and a half hours of my life. No worries, no thinking. Just laughing, hanging out, rocking out, driving.

“You have a good voice, you know,” she grinned and pointed at me as I parked at her complex.

I chuckled nervously. “I try,” I said lightly. I probably should tell her who I actually was, shouldn’t I? I mean, she was bound to find out eventually. We were supposed to go on tour soon, anyway. I wasn’t cocky or big headed about the band at all, but since our last album was released, we blew up. But Charlie didn’t listen to music, so I guess that explained it. I still can’t believe she didn't listen to music! I pushed the thoughts out of my head, though. They weren’t important right now.

“I’ll walk you up,” I said. She smiled, shrugging her shoulders nervously again.

“Shit,” she muttered when we walked down the thin hallway to her apartment.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She sighed. “Oh, nothing,” she said louder. I could tell something was wrong, though.

“Charlie!” a new voice called after her. Charlie sighed and muttered curses under her breath again. I didn’t think I was meant to hear them, though.

“Hey, Paul,” she said with a friendly smile, but I could tell it was fake and forced.

“Who’s this?” he asked. I turned to see the short, bulky man. He had a nasty facial expression plastered on his face.

“Paul, this is Vic. Vic, this is my landlord, Paul,” Charlie introduced.

Before I could politely say hello, Paul spoke again: “Hmph. I see. Charlie, I need a word,” he growled. I raised an eyebrow at them.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Alone,” he said, his voice shaking. I furrowed my eyebrows. I didn’t know this Paul person, but I didn’t like him. I didn’t like his tone. I didn’t like his face. I didn’t like his demeanor.

“If you need to talk to Charlie, you can talk to her while I’m here. I don’t mind,” I spoke up, feeling rather defensive of her.

She shot me a look, which almost looked thankful.

“It’s confidential, Vic,” he spat.

“If it’s a professional conversation, then I don’t see why it needs to be in private,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“You told him, didn’t you?” he turned his attention to Charlie. Her eyes went wide.

“No,” she choked out. Told me? Told me what? Bile rose in my throat. I’ve heard about people like him, and it disgusted me. He disgusted me. I didn’t need Charlie to tell me anything; for some reason, I just knew that he treated her poorly… he probably… abused her… I took a hasty breath, containing my emotions.

“You little bitch,” he muttered under his breath, but we heard him. Charlie backed away and flinched, proving my speculations correct. She was expecting a hit. He has hit her.

“Hey, Charlie, why don’t you go into your apartment and pack some things,” I said lowly, continuing to try and contain the anger inside of me.

She nodded and darted off.

“You have no right—” I started, but before I could finish a fist flew into my face and I stumbled back.

“You know nothing, strawberry short cake,” he smirked angrily. He composed himself and then wobbled over towards Charlie’s cracked open door. Before he reached it, though, I pulled his greasy hair and yanked him back, making him fall onto his ass.

“Hey!” he said angrily, but before he could retaliate I kicked him in the face. I walked into Charlie’s small apartment, closing and locking the door behind me.

“Jesus,” she hissed, walking over to me. She lightly traced my jaw with her velvet fingertips. Her touch was a sensation similar to that of pop rocks on one’s tongue. “I'm so sorry,” she said softly. I shook my head, taking her hands off of my bruising and bleeding face, and holding them gently in my own.

“What did he do to you?” I asked. She shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here, though. I was planning on moving out, anyway,” she said, her voice strong and confident. She seemed like a tough person, but I was afraid that she was only tough because she was forced to be.

“I’ll help you,” I said, looking around her one room apartment. She barely had anything in here except clothes and a few personal items.

“Vic, I don’t mean to be rude, but why do you care? You could have just dropped me off and left,” she said lowly.

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. That wasn’t a lie, either. I didn’t understand why I felt the need to protect her so much. It didn’t really matter, though. She deserved someone to protect her, so why couldn’t I? Dealing with her was a good distraction, too…

Before we could say anything else, someone—that someone being Paul—began to bang at her door.

“Open this fucking door, you slut!” he yelled angrily. I clenched my fists, his words making my insides boil.

“It’s okay, Vic, relax,” she patted my arm tenderly, and I obeyed, relaxing almost immediately.

“But that is not okay,” I growled.

“They are just words, Vic. Let me handle it,” she said fiercely. She walked to the door and yanked it open. Paul was standing there, looking rather surprised that she actually opened the door. She took that as an opportunity to punch him square in the face. He fell down immediately, and I fought the urge to smile at that. The bad things in her life didn’t make her weak, they made her strong. I wish I could be like that for myself…

“Damn,” I breathed. She kicked him in the side and walked back in, throwing clothes and everything she owned into two suitcases, leaving a bare bed and an empty dresser behind.

“Yay for another road trip,” I offered.

“Hell no, Vic. I am not expecting you to take care—”

“Let me,” I said lowly, interrupting her. I stepped closer to her, our faces inches apart. Butterflies swarmed in the pit of my stomach. “I see you are very capable of being on your own, and I really admire that. But let me help you,” I said lowly again.

“Vic…” she knitted her eyebrows. “You’ve done so much for me, already. I can’t ask for—”

“But you aren’t asking me. Just let me,” I repeated.

She sighed, hopefully submitting to my words. “Only until I find a place on my own,” she said firmly, and I nodded. Her words came out in a minty breath that was cool on my face, and I shivered lightly. I haven’t felt like this since…

I shook my head, breaking the tension and picking up one of her suitcase.

“Deal,” I said. We exited her apartment, Paul lightly stirring on the floor. Charlie made sure to step on his hand as she departed, and I made sure to accidentally trip over his face.

We got back into the car and drove away, already sparking up conversation. I was glad we jumped right into talking, not about the problems that we both seemed to have.

“On the road again,” I sang in a deep voice with a country twang. Charlie giggled.

“You like country?” she asked, imitating a southern accent. I shook my head, laughing.

“Charlie I just realized something,” I said.

“Me too,” she said.

I laughed as we both said, “you first”, at the same time.

“Together,” we said at the same time again. Once we recovered from our irrational laughing fit, we spoke again: I said, “It’s too late to drive seven hours home,” while she said, “It’s already seven at night.” We laughed together again, and I pulled over on the side of the road. We had already driven thirty minutes into the desert.

Fabulous.

“Yay for adventures,” she said, mocking me from earlier and smiling weakly.

“I’m sorry I’m so dumb,” I groaned, sinking back into my seat.

“Wait!” she said energetically, sitting up more. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Have no fear, Siri is here!” she sang, holding up her iPhone.

“Perfect! We need a gas station, and, uh, I guess a hotel!” I said.

“Wait, say it again I wasn’t ready,” she said. She unbuckled herself and sat up on her knees, leaning over and holding the phone closer to my face. She held the home button, and Siri asked ‘How may I help you?’.

“Where is the nearest gas station and hotel?” I asked.

“I found three gas stations, but they are a little ways from you,” Siri said robotically. I groaned, seeing that they were all twenty miles away.

“Why am I so stupid?” I groaned again, sighing.

“I blame Paul,” Charlie grumbled.

“Me too,” I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms in a pout. If Paul had not of happened, we would have thought clearer earlier. But, no, Paul came along and distracted me from rational thoughts.

“How much gas do you have?” she asked.

“About fifteen,” I said almost inaudibly. “I forgot!” I raised my arms in defense. “Damn, Paul,” I muttered.

“Yeah, damn, Paul,” she muttered as well. I turned to her.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” I asked, hoping she understood what I insinuated with my question.

She paused for a moment. “Yes, Vic. I am okay, thank you,” she said, smiling a smile that looked genuine.

“Okay, good. If you aren’t, you can tell me,” I said. Because I can relate if you are not okay. She smiled nicely, and I stared at her for a moment. Her features were so sweet—the color in her cheeks, her soft eyes, her lips…

“Hey, Siri never answered our other question!” I remembered, shaking my head.

“Right!” Charlie said. She held the button for Siri again, and I asked for hotels.

“I found several hotels, but they are all a little ways from you…” I groaned again at the answer, burying my face in my hands. They were all over two hours away.

“Well, now what?” she asked. I sat there, dumbfounded for a few minutes.

“I think we can make it to a gas station, at least,” I offered, although I was unsure as to where we would go from there. It was getting late, fast.

“Go for it,” she said as we both realized we had no other option.

I went for it. It was a terrifying twenty miles, and I wasn’t sure if we were going to make it. But we did, sure enough. It went by slow because I did a lot of coasting. It was already pushing eight thirty at night.

I quickly got gas. “Now what?”

“We save ourselves from the desert animals and monsters,” Charlie said, hugging her legs in the car. She shivered.

“Aw, are you scared?” I teased. She stuck her tongue out at me.

“I guess I’ll text Mike, tell him we’ll be very late,” I sighed.

“Yeah,” she said lowly. “But seriously, where do we go?”

I patted the leather of the seats we sat in. “Good ‘ol car,” I sighed. “It’s a good thing these seats recline,” I said.

“Oh, my God,” she laughed. “I guess I knew it would come to this,” she said.

“Yolo? Is that what kids say now a days?”

“Yeah, You only live once,” she rolled her eyes. “And don’t say ‘now a days’,” she imitated in a deep voice. “You sound like an old man,” she cringed.

I chuckled. “Ah, I prefer Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem mother fuckers!” I yelled, flipping the world off. She giggled next to me.

“And it’s a good thing I brought pillows!” I said, pulling out a second one from behind my seat.

“You planned this,” she glared at me. I raised my hands in defense.

“I swear, I didn’t,” I said.

“Hm…” she squinted her eyes at me, but I could tell she was just messing with me.

I sighed, resting my head back on the headrest. There were a few minutes of silence, and I filled it by quietly singing to myself. I couldn’t help it; it was a habit of mine.

“I changed your mind,

And ended up here.

Through stained glass eyes,

And colorful tears.

Fine…

Maybe I’ll pretend right now,

But I swear to God

I’m gonna change the world!

And I promise you someday we’ll tell ourselves:

‘Oh my God, this is paradise,”

I sang softly, putting no strain on my voice.

“That sounds nice,” Charlie chimed in.

“Hm?” I was in my own little world for a minute there.

“That was pretty. What was that?” she asked.

“Oh, um. Just a song,” I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.

“Well, you sing nicely, Vic,” she smiled at me, which I reciprocated weakly. If only you knew…

“Hey, even though I was driving all day and now we are trapped in a car all night, I enjoyed today!” I spoke up.

“Me too!” she smiled. “I liked your company,” she added.

“Me too,” I said softly. Today really was a good day. Despite my recently escalated desire to cut again, for the most part today was great—relaxing, not stressful, and my brain and heart didn’t ache.

And for a slim moment there, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could actually live a life without my Spencer.

Notes

Wow, two days since i've updated apparently... oops!! I took forever writing this for some reason. I didn't realize how long it actually was until i finished oops Sorry!! This is one of those updates where I write a lot but don't really particularly love what i'm writing, but whatever, i hope you guys like it better than I do!

i just realized i probably should have cut this in half because it's insanely long but you know what i'm not gonig to do it because its trhee in the morning and i want to post this so HERE <3

And, by the way: the next few weeks are going to be mad hectic, so updates are not going to be as frequent as usual. I have preseason for soccer plus a shit ton of summer work and college essays and stuff to do, so i can't be on this a lot. I'm sorry :( i'll try to update as much as possible, though!


So, Vic continues to have battle in his head, especially in the beginning of this chapter. Poor Vic! But Mike also continues to be an awesome brother. But we still need to see how he's feeling on the inside, don't we?! And Tony and Jaime... they won't be present for a few chapters, i don't think, but don't worry they will be back shortly. everything happens for a reason.

so, what do you guys think about Charlie now that she's more involved? there's still plenty to learn about her, though.

I'm sorry for the insanely long note, idk what's gotten into me. I guess i like to know what you guys are thinking!! soo leave a comment and or a suggestion and predictions and stuff!


:)


PS all of the stuff with the music from the car ride is inspired from an AP article where Vic gives the interviewer his playlist it's pretty cool and vic makes my heart melt Check it out here okay bye

PPS don't mind my music appreciation in there. it interested me so it happened so yes

goodbye

it's so late right now i can't even i'm sorry for my rambling someone help b\