The Shadow Lily Waltz
A RolePlay Between Diamond Archemedes and Princess Cupcake

I am the lucky one. Every who is near me is can be miserable compared to what bliss and joy I have. No-one else has you. My light, my inspiration, mon amour. Whether we are divulging in conversation about the meaning of the world, or simply fighting to the death in another video game, you're feeding me both light and darkness, the hues of twilight, directly into my veins.

The problem lies, in when telling you how I feel. I could never directly say it, in fear of your rejection. I couldn't bare the pain of that. Being alone is bearable, but being without your twilight would ruin me. For now then, we'll keep on playing this game of charades, and holding on to our facades, so that maybe one day we will be able to truly waltz together.

The OoC Thread

The bell rang.

It was a kind of... Penetrating noise. Splitting eardrums as it peeled down the hallways of the High School. However to Myron it was but sweet release, the most beautiful music indicating his freedom from this horrid place.

The boy almost bolted for the door, barely supressing his instincts to flee in the face of danger. To escape the glares, the jeers, the looks of poorly hidden terror. He couldn't understand why they looked at him like that. I mean, yeah, sure he carries a wiccan book around with him everywhere. And yeah, sure he always wears black. But he likes the color. I mean, it's not like he's going to bring a gun to school or something.

Sometimes he thought they all expected him to.

Myron finally arrived at his locker, his slender fingers skillfully spinning the lock to quickly open the cold metal door. His black-painted fingernails trailed down the outside edge of the metal door as his other arm shifted the books further up onto his hip before they fell to the ground and scattered like the pieces of a shattered skull. He calmly placed his books in his black backpack, but inside he was screaming. He could feel them glaring at him, just waiting for him. Waiting fo their impending doom. He chuckled to himself. Maybe one day he'd fulfill that expectation.

He shook the thought away from his head. No. He couldn't think like that. He liked people, after all. ... Most of the time.

Charlotte Gilmore loved Fridays. There was no doubt in her mind that Fridays were the best days in the whole week, besides Saturday, but we don't discuss that. Fridays were the funest day of the school week because there was the lack of school the next day, and getting to spend time with her best friend, Myron Benedict.

She spotted him at his locker, getting ready to leave for the day, and a grin instantly spread across her face. Fridays were the perfect days to be mischievous and carefree. Arming on her rattie claws, the girl mock crept towards the boy, before glomping him at his weakest moment.

"RAWR! Happy Friday Myron~chan!" Charlotte knew he hated the nickname, but none the less, it was still used on him at least once a day, if not more. Letting go of her death grip on the boy, she sighed dramatically and leaned against the lockers, not caring if she got in people's ways. "Aren't you so disappointed we won't be coming back tomorrow for class? I know I won't be." Turning around, she flipped the combo for her own locker and swung it open to reveal an inside of pink wallpaper, lace, bunny stickers, volumes of shojou manga, and pictures of friends.

She grabbed her a pink sticker clad spiral and one text book, her Cheshire cat grin lighting up her face. "So what did you get on the English test? I was sure I'd fail, but no! A plus plus plus!" The otaku giggled, placing her books into her cupcake pink messenger bag before grabbing white embroidered bunny-eared cardigan and put it on.

Myron sighed as he lifted the last book towards his backpack. He was about to drop it in when suddenly...

BOOM! He was glomped from behind. His head hit the locker, sending the book in his arms and his glasses flying. He could hear his glasses skitter across the floor, and prayed to the goddess that no one would step on them. He calmly bent down where he heard them fall and picked them up, cleaning them off on his shirt before replacing them on his face. "I'm so glad you did well." He congratulated, fighting so hard not to strangle her at that very moment. What if she had broken his glasses? Then he wouldn't have been able to see! And calling him Myron-chan. She knew he hated that nickname...

He pushed the thoughts away and zipped up his backpack, having already put in the fallen book. He pulled it out and slung it over one shoulder, taking out a black sweatshirt before slamming his locker closed. For a brief moment the entire hallway went silent, the noise of the slam echoing down the hall. They all looked at him briefly, as if afraid he was about to shoot them all. He rolled his eyes mentally. Why did they always do this? It's not his fault his locker doesn't close normally. And believe me, he tried. Every time it would just bounce open again. The only way to get it to lock is to slam it. Which, of course, makes everyone think he's about to shoot them. He chuckled bitterly to himself. Just his luck...

"What are you doing today?" Myron was only semi-curious. He knew what he would be doing. The usual planting himself in front of the computer and trying to melt the world away. He only asked because it seemed to make her happy. And, despite himself, he did like making Charlotte happy.

Quietly closing her locker to ease the awkward silence, Charlotte slipped the cardigan over her blouse. It was her favorite cardigan, and very expensive, being shipped in from Japan. The only Baby the Stars Shine Bright item she owned, and she treasured it dearly.

"What am I doing today? No Myron, the question is, what are WE going to be doing today? Today, we are going to go eat ice cream, then go watch anime. I finally got my DVDs in today and I need help breaking them in." It seemed that 78 percent of the time, Charlotte thought about food. More importantly, sweets. That girl had a sweet tooth like no other, it was wonder she didn't blow up like a balloon and fly away.

The two walked out of the school, greeted by the spring air and a clear blue sky. "I love days like today. It's just simply sublime out here!" She spun around, taking in the beauty around her, but she could have been a sight of the beauty herself. Charlotte was of am average size, but a little bit curvier than the normal stick. Her hair was a very light blonde, kept in curls. And her eyes... Charlotte had surreal blue eyes. Some said that she wore colour contacts because eyes like hers were only found in animes and on dolls. Her eyes in general were a little bit bigger than the normal person, and her eyelashes were very prominent.

Today, the Lolita princess wore a white blouse with her white cardigan, a simple pink Lolita skirt that was not overly frilly, a pair of of white and pink striped stockings and pink (you guessed it) Lolita shoes with white bows. To most, she looked a little odd, if nothing else, harmless.

However to Myron she looked stunning. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but all of a sudden, with her standing there, perfectly content, she looked more beautiful than she ever had before. And she hadn't really looked beautiful before.

Not to say that she was ugly. No. Rather... Not thought of in that particular way.

Myron followed her out, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. "I suppose, since I have nothing planned, I can help you with those DVDs." The boy's dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of happiness and amusement, but seemed to suddenly dull and darken whenever she looked his way. If Charlotte discovered his happiness, she would surely question him. And at this current point in time, he could give her no answer.

A small thump could be heard as Myron set his backpack on the grass, slipping his arms into the well-worn black sweatshirt. He zipped up the front only partway, since the weather had been improving, and it was no longer col enough that he needed a full jacket. A slight rip, and Myron noticed his finger poking through a new hole. He sighed and removed the finger, being careful not to let it snag on any more tears before getting to the end of the sleeve. Charlotte had badgered him before about getting a new sweatshirt, but this one was his favorite. It had all the secret pockets that he had sewn in, and no one knew about. It had taken a lot of work to strategically place those pockets so that they wouldn't be visible, and had swallowed up a lot of time and effort to sew them in. The sweatshirt was still good, especially the pockets. And he didn't want to have to put all that work into a new sweatshirt when he could still use this one.

Besides, he thought as he rolled his shoulders, his body sliding into the grooves of wear on the inside of the sweatshirt. You just can't find sweatshirts like these anymore.

"Wha- wait?" The blond's hair flew out as she turned her head towards him. She was astonished. Myron rarely ever came out of his house when Charlotte didn't drag him somewhere. But what was that? Did she dare? Did she even provoke the thought that she detected a smile in his voice. A note? A whole note of jubilant happy? But he was never happy...

A small yet illumination smile spread on her lips. "Really? I'm glad you're deciding to join me. It's going to be so much fun! I got a whole bunch of new releases, and some stuff I've been waiting for awhile now." She glanced at the new hole in his sweater, eyebrows stitching together. Charlotte wasn't going to discuss it, since it would end in a big fight, and the girl would a be a complete mess of tears.

"Well, you might want to grab your bag. Now that you've signed up for watching movies with me, you've also, unwillingly agreed to eating ice-cream with me~!" She giggled, it floating into the robin egg blue sky. Readjusting her pack, she smiled again towards Myron, waiting to walk with him.

Myron had to fight to keep the smile from his face. But it quickly dispersed to nothing. What was this? Had she caught him? No. It couldn't be possible. Myron readjusted his glassed as he lifted and then swung the backpack over his shoulder. He began to wonder just when Charlotte had begun to look so beautiful... When had she grown from a child into a woman? And when had she developed such nice... curves...

Myron pushed the thoughts away. He couldn't think of Charlotte like that! Charlotte was his friend! And that was it. Yes. Only his friend... A frown spread across his lips as his expression took on a hint of depression. It was somewhat frightening how well Myron portrayed this look. However it might make sense since, after all, it was the only emotion he let others see.

The boy's chin sank towards his chest and he let his eyes fall to the ground. A distinct feeling began to well up in him. It was a feeling he had felt increasingly often, and had begun to rely on. It was the feeling that Charlotte would comfort him, and try to make him feel better.

It did not always happen, though, and so he did not invest any hopes into it. Instead he looked back up, plastering a slightly annoyed and overly bored expression on his face. "Ice cream, huh? What is it with you and sweets?"

She glanced at him, all smiles and laughter quickly dying. "Myron, whatever is the matter?" The journey was paused for a moment as Charlotte got in front of the boy, bending her head so she was looking him in the eye as he moped. "You look like a droopy violet, I'm worried. Did I say something, did I do something to upset you? Won't you tell me, love?" Her eyes reflected the sadness in the boy's oh so well, like she hid some inside her own heart too.

"We're almost there. I'm paying, you don't need to look so sad." A weak smile spread over her face. Charlotte couldn't fix all the problems, though she always went above and beyond to try and repair all the broken pieces. "Sweets don't destroy the depression, but they make the world seem brighter for just a moment. And besides, they taste good!" She grinned, wishing to ease Myron's pain. Her never talked about it. Never Never Never, for some things were left unasked and unspoken in this time.

The two were extremely close to Lucy's Parlor, an old fashioned ice-cream joint that was the most popular in town. Almost everyone came on Fridays, including the jocks, the skaters, the nerds, and now... Myron and Charlotte. The names followed each other, when a person mentioned Myron, Charlotte came along in the conversation, and vice versa. Charlotte didn't mind, it did not matter to her in the long run whether she was associated with the boy.

Actually, she rather liked it...

"Nothing. I'm fine." A tinge of surprise flashed across his saddened expression, and a sparkle of amusment twinkled in his eye. "You're buying? Since when? You should know it's always the man's duty to buy a woman things such as this." He stepped in front of her, opening the door and ushering her inside.

As it was Friday, the place was virtually packed. Nearly every table was occupied. And, similar to the cafeteria during a lunch period, everyone was gathered into groups. The cheerleaders sat here, the bandos sat there, the nerds sat over there... And the jocks sat right by the door.

Myron knew as soon as he walked into the parlour. They were there, prepared and ready with their jeers and remarks. With his first step, he could hear the whispers. The entire table fell silent as the leader of the clique gave them the signal. They all wore stupid smirks on their smug faces. The idiots. They couldn't even hope to hold a candle to Charlotte's kindness. Then again... They probably never tried...

"Hey guys, look. It's Moron and Charred-shit." Myron flinched. No. He couldn't confront them. Then there would be a fight. And Charlotte might get hurt...

"Just keep walking." Myron whispered to Charlotte, hoping that she wouldn't get involved. It wasn't worth it. Not this time.

"Hey! I'm talking to you." A chair skittered across the floor as the leader of the jocks stood abruptly. The rest of the table rose slightly out of their chairs, not sure if they were supposed to stand up with him or just simply watch. The leader paid them no heed and walked up to the pair, grabbing Myron's arm to stop him. Myron tensed visibly. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." He could feel the anger welling inside of him. The rage swelling, pushing at it's cage, screaming to be let loose.

Myron took a deep breath. He had to keep calm. He couldn't fight this guy. Not here. He had his whole clique with him. And even with Myron's superior fighting prowess, he wouldn't be able to take on the whole group at once. "Please." He fought to keep the rage from his voice. However anyone that knew him well would be able to easily tell that he was close to breaking. Any more and this guy's face would be pounded into the floor. "Just let us eat our ice-cream in peace."

The jock scoffed. "And what makes you think we'd ever leave you alone?" Myron turned to look at the leader of the jocks through the corner of his eye.

"We?"

The lolita winced at the name they called her. Though a small voice said it wasn't worth it, she wanted to die. 'Twas vile and vicious, and Charlotte hated anything things that were not worth her time and her emotions. "Why don't you try to show some class for once?" She muttered, her eyes glued to the mahogany floor. It wasn't worth doing anything else, the last time she had encountered the clique without Myron, there had been a trip to the hospital, and Charlotte didn't want that again. No, not at all...

"I-it's not w-worth it Myron. Let's just get our i-ice cream and go to the park, ok?" Her eyes were pleading the boy, she didn't want to cause a scene, it wasn't worth her best friend getting hurt, or anyone else. "Please, it's a beautiful Friday afternoon, none of us need this." Charlotte had to keep the anger and burning fire for revenge inside of her, for now...

Her voice seemed to quell his rage. His hands loosened their grip on his palms, and the anger in his eyes ebbed. He was about to look at her and smile when a voice broke in on his world of relief.

"The park? What are you, children?" Myron flinched again, this time more subtly. "Awwww... You're dating aren't you...? Everyone, look at the happy couple." The jock's tone was mocking, and the entire parlour laughed. "It's so fitting. The dark Lord, and..." His hand rose to gesture at Charlotte. "A used, ugly doll."
And that was it.

The last straw. The final drop that overflowed the glass. The finishing beat that began a brand new song. The ultimate end...

Myron threw the punch before he knew what he was doing. His arm had begun swinging towards the... the imbecile behind him, and his clenched fist was aimed towards the idiot's face. "She's not ugly!" He had shouted. He wasn't even aware of the words, or that they were his. He just knew that the cretin was on the floor, and Myron was pounding in his face. That the clique following the nitwit, who had been sitting at the table watching, were now rushing toward him. That their hands closed around him, pulling him away from the bloodied twit, and that he was fighting desperately to be released. He was vaguely aware of someone dialing 9-1-1, and of the sirens. He barely even recognized the fact that he was being carried outside, to where it would be easier to... punish him. However he was aware of one thing very clearly.

Charlotte.

He knew that, right before the initial punch, he had warned her. "Get back." He had whispered to her, loud enough for her to hear. He knew that the group had not paid any attention to her, leaving her alone as they dragged him outside. He was sure that she would not follow. He willed her not to. To just eat her ice cream in peace, and go. He would find her as soon as he could.

In his captors' arms, he sighed in relief. At least she was safe...

Charlotte let her bangs fall in front of her face as the jock teased and taunted Myron. She couldn't stop him, her morals stopped her from tearing that bastard to pieces. But she wanted to, oh she so wanted to. She wanted to see the boy suffer, like her own heart never stopped doing... She wanted his pain, the dread and terror within his eyes, that tremor which made his voice crack. Charlotte Gilmore she wanted it-

No. It couldn't be like that again. Someone had to be stronger than the urges. It had to be Charlotte, she had to hold it together for her sweet Myron. He needed her to be one of light and laughter, not of darkness. There is no balance between devil and angel, no in-between. But none the less, she was desperate for it. She had to turn into the light, even if it killed her.

Her eyes widened in fear as she felt his self-control slip away in favor of the idea of revenge. "Myron, please... don't do this. Please..." Tears sprung up and smeared her makeup as the brawl began, sending the jock and nerd down to the floor. "Oh god, no." She took a step back, disappearing into the shadows. Charlotte slipped her cell phone out, her fingers shakily pressing the keypad to get someone, anyone to help.

Everything around was muddled by her blurry tear-filled vision. The roaring ringing in her ears finally ceased when an old woman's voice answered "Nine-One-One, what's your emergency?" It was like Charlotte imagined her grandparents would sound like, if she ever had any; sweet and kind, yet it could be a double sword, your worst nightmare if you were to cross her. The world was so numb, the operator's voice a world away...

"Please, they're going to hurt him.... Oh god, I think they might just kill him. You need to send the police, they won't stop until he's dead." Charlotte's voice cracked, her voice shaky and filled with the fear she couldn't hold inside.

"What? Miss, where are you? What's going on?" The old woman started typing, her fingers going clickity-clack on the keyboard as they zoomed in on the voice's location. This sounded serious, she needed to keep the girl on the line.

"I-I'm at Lucy's Parlour," The address quickly given out... "Myron didn't mean to start it, he just had his buttons pushed... He only did it for me..." With the realization that her best friend was risking everything because of an insult towards her, the Lolita burst into tears. The operator couldn't calm her, no-one could at this point.

They dragged him into the courtyard of the park across the street. The courtyard was well concelaed by a conveniently placed clump of trees. The two boys holding his arms and the two boys holding his feet threw him to the ground, and he rolled violently into one of those conveniently placed trees. The tree shook, and a few dead leaves fell to the ground. Myron grunted, trying to give these jocks the pleasure of seeing him in pain. He turned onto his stomach and began getting up, keeping his eyes on them all the while.

One of them went in for the kick, and he grabbed their ankle. The jock lost his balance and fell to the ground, only to be immediately replaced by another jock twice his size. Myron struggled to keep them off of him, fought to prevent them from landing a hit, but there were just too many. As soon as he deflected one, another was hitting him from the other side. He could feel himself slowing down. He was tired, and the incoming punches were getting to him.

Just as he stood up, he went down again, and the group swarmed him. Punches were flying in from all directions, bloodying his clothes and tearing them to shreds. However just as he began to lose conciousness, sirens could be herad in the distance.

The police were coming. Many, in fact. The jocks froze. Like most troublemakers, they were deeply afraid of getting caught. And so they scattered, leaving him hidden behind a clump of trees, breathing heavily and bleeding profusely.

His lip was swollen and cut. There was another cut above his eyebrow. That one might need stitches. One eye was already black, and probably wouldn't open properly for another two days. According to the pain accompanying every breath, he probably had a few broken rips. And, he gasped sharply, sending another wave of pain through his lungs. He gingerly lifted a hand towards his face. His nose was broken, which means he wouldn't be able to wear his glasses for a while. And it felt like maybe his collarbone was fractured. Damaged, at the very least. He glanced around, sinking again to the grassy floor in search of his glasses. He found them, smashed to pieces.

He'd have to buy a new pair.

He sighed and stood back up, holding all the pieces in his bleeding hand. His knuckles had been torn apart from punching in that one guy's face. Teeth really do a number on the hands...

Once he stepped out of the trees two EMTs swarmed him, taking him towards the ambulance. "Where's Charlotte?" He asked, looking around. He couldn't really look very well, since they were holding his head in place, but from what he could see she wasn't in the crowd. He could see another ambulance, two blocks down, and knew immediately that the jock leader was inside.

"Where's Charlotte?" He demanded. The EMTs weren't answering him. They were too concerned with hauling him off to the hospital. "Tell me, or I'm not going into that ambulance."

"You don't have a choice." One EMT, the one on his left, finally spoke. "We're going to drag you in there if you like it or not. But if you mean that girl who called us in, she's over there." Myron did his best to look where they were pointing.

There she was. Charlotte. Beautiful, radiant, and completely unharmed. There were stains on her cheeks from tears, and he silently berated himself for getting involved in this fight. But he couldn't help it. They had insulted her.

Now that he knew she was safe, Myron climbed into the ambulance with the two EMTs and began to ride off to the hospital. He'd be in there overnight, at the very least. A sudden thought occured to him, and he was suddenly filled with dread.

What would he tell his mother?

Charlotte sat on the chair outside of Myron's hospital room, her knees drawn to her chest, iPod plugged in. She had been playing Emilie Autumn's "Opheliac" album over and over, it seemed to sate her more than anything else. How many hours had it been since Myron got admitted; two, twenty? They seemed to muddle and blur together, running dry like the back of her throat.

Either way, Charlotte hadn't seen her friend yet, and it was killing her. She had tried to kill time by bothering nurses and doctors with medical questions, but they were all to busy for her childish chatter. She had even tried to get into the Psych Ward a few times, but that was like trying to meet the President personally. It couldn't happen. Myron would probably smile when she told him of her hospital adventures, the lolita was very much into gore and blood.

Finally, a nurse in pastels walked up to Charlotte, gently patting her on the shoulder. She awoke out of her insomniac's sleep quickly, looking up to the nurse with wide eyes. "Huh- wait what?" The nurse chuckled, smiling at Charlotte.

"You can go see Myron now if you wish." Charlotte's eyes popped open, she was fully awake now.

"Wait, REALLY?" She shot out of her chair, straightening her hair, grabbing her and Myron's bags.

"Yes, really. Be be quiet, he's sleeping." She nodded at the nurse enthusiastically, a grin appearing on her face.

The nurse wanted to warn the young girl of Myron's appearance, he was in bad shape. But she bit her tongue. It was not her place.

As the young lolita opened the door, a mess of bandages and tubes awaited her.

Amidst the mass of medicinal substances, there lie a boy. His lower lip was swollen, and a large scab had crusted over a slit near the corner of his mouth. Another cut above the boy's eyebrow was laced with stitches, ten thick, black threads spread from the left to the right. His left eye, right beneath the stitches, was swollen shut. it was badly bruised, the whole area completely blackened, with hints of purple showing through here and there. There was a tight wrap around the boy's ribs, keeping him from taking any deep breaths. A breathing tube was placed under his nose, which was wrapped, and there was a red line stretching diagonally across the boy's nose. A kind of special tape was wrapped around the boy's shoulder, making his arm immobile.

It didn't look like Myron. For one, the boy wasn't awake. He didn't have that melancholic look on his face, as if there was nothing in the world worth mentioning. He didn't have that sparkle in his eye that said despite everything, it was still going to be ok. For one, his eyes weren't even open.

However a minute later his right eye fluttered open, and the boy stirred. He stared at her through that one eye, and a look of confusion twisted his already mangled features. "Charlotte?" He croaked, and then coughed. "What are you..." He coughed again. "... doing here?" He swallowed, and a pink tongue slid over his cracked lips.

Charlotte. Her heart leaps into her throat when she saw him. Blood and bandages, she saw them frequently and enjoyed adding the broken doll look to her lolitas. But when she saw those same items on her Myron, her sweet sweet Myron, the effect was so much more devastating. It took all of her will not to cry. Slowly, the blonde walked over to the bedside chair.

She looked just as bad as Myron, her eyes dead tired and dark, cosmetics smeared over from red eyed tears. Her hair didn't have that same bounce, the golden sheen. Charlotte hadn't slept, eaten or thought of anyone except Myron since a few days back when he was admitted.

"I-I've been here since they brought you into the hospital Myron. I was so worried about you." Her voice cracked, and tears started to pool into the crystaline baby blues. "Y-you promised this wouldn't happen again." She stood over his bed, just looking at him, knowing his condition was all her fault... Maybe because it was the vision, or the fact that she hadn't taken her medicine in a few days...

Charlotte collapsed into tears, her knees as weak as pudding. She landed next to the bed, holding onto its railing for support. "I thought you were going to die. You always make me worry like this. I don't know whose more of a mess right now; you or me." Why was it that she cared so much about Myron? He was just a boy...

A silent tear rolled down Myron's cheek as Charlotte collapsed beside him. He moved the only arm he could and wrapped it around her shoulders, stroking her hair to calm her. "I'm sorry Charlotte... I know I promised. I tried, really I did. It's just... I couldn't stand to hear them call you those horrible things. None of it's true. They're all delusional." His voice was surprisingly steady, considering he was croaking just a few seconds before.

He hated to watch her cry like this. And he hated it more because this time he knew it was his fault. Each tear that fell from her perfect blue eyes broke his heart. And the knowledge that he could've prevented every one made the pain that much worse...

He coughed out a laugh. "Don't worry. I'll be out of here soon. After all, I heal fast. Remember?" He took his hand and lifted her chin, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Cheer up." He offered her a rare smile. "I'll be out of here in no time."

Charlotte looked up, and gasped softly. Myron was smiling. The last time Myron had smiled like that, the last time she had seen him smile... It happened so many years ago, when the two of them were in grade school together. The circumstances surrounding it were so hazy, but the smile... it shone like a candle in the dark. "Myron..."

What was Charlotte feeling? Myron had been her best -and only- friend since... it seemed like forever now. Preschool... They sat next together, and the blond started talking to him... Inseparable ever since. Even when...

She didn't think about that. Too painful, emotionally and physically... Even her best friend could never know what happened. He'd reject her, like everyone else.

Worry creased Myron's brow and he tried to lean forward, towards her. "Charlotte... Are you alright?" The rare smile had quickly been replaced by a concerned frown as he attempted in vain to get closer to her. "What's wrong?" However his question would never be answered.

For just then Myron's mother crashed through the door. "MYRON!!" She shrieked, immediately collapsing at the opposite side of the bed as Charlotte. She gathered up her injured sone in a hug, and he groaned in pain. She let him down, a nervouse smile on her lips. "Sorry, sorry... Are you ok?? I've been so worried... The hospital called. What happened?!" She was speaking a mile a minute, barely giving him enough time to answer a question before another was in its place. Then she stopped. "Charlotte! Oh dear me I didn't see you there... It's so sweet of you to be here for Myron," she gave him a wink and a knowing smile, to which he sighed and rolled his eyes, "I can't imagine what would've happened if he had woken up alone." Then she took his bandaged hand and patted it gently. "I did my best to get here as fast as I could sweetie, really I did."

"I know Mom. I believe you." He replied. And it was true. He knew it would've taken her atleast a couple days to suddenly get off work. Her bosses weren't that nice, after all. Myron looked back at Charlotte, still slightly worried. The entrance of his mother had allieved some of the atmosphere, but didn't remove the memory of her expression...

She gave her friend a weak smile, her mind not fully there. It was fogged with memories, and voice. Ah, yes, the voices. They were always there, though they had been quiet the past few days. But now, now they arose, all voicing their opinions, pushing Charlotte closer to the edge.

"Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte, you weren't ACTUALLY going to tell him about us, were you?"

"Yes, did you think that would get rid of us, make us go away? You stupid little nitwit, we'll never go away."
"Besides, if you told him about us, he'll just think of you like all the others do."

"Crazy."

"Freak."

"Broken beyond repair."

The girl's eyes roamed the room, looking for something, anything to use to get them to shut up. Now was not the time, now she had to worry about Myron, like a good friend. Not the time, not the place. They needed to go away...

All Charlotte did was start ringing her hands, biting her lip till she tasted blood.

Myron stopped listening to his mother. She was still rattling off about nothing. Instead he was staring at Charlotte. He was watching her, watching her eyes roam. She started ringing her hands, and he could just barely see her teeth...

They were red.

Something inside Myron broke. Like a dam that was keeping something back. And now all of a sudden there was this flood of emotion, and this sudden... need. Suddenly he wanted to do something. He wasn't sure what. But this wasn't the normal Charlotte. For one, she wasn't smiling. She was always smiling. Even when there was nothing to smile about. And that poor excuse of a smile earlier didn't count. He sat up, ignoring the pain in his ribs and ignoring the protests of his mother. Then, remembering his mother, he turned to her, and with a very serious expression asked his mother a very simple question. "Mom, could you go outside for a sec? I'll let you know when it's ok again." And then, without even waiting for her reply, he took Charlotte's hand.

If she looked up, she would see his worried expression, and a sort of clarity in his eyes, as if through a revelation he had gained a knowledge he hadn't had before. She would see the fact that he was there for her, no matter what, and that he would not judge her as others would. There was a special kind of compassion in those eyes. One that could not be explained with words. And, with all of this, he said, "Charlotte, are you all right? Tell me, please. I'm here for you."

His touch was like fire, making Charlotte jump up and away from Myron's bedside. Her eyes searched the room frantically, for something, anything. The look on her face was one hunted and haunted. It shouldn't have been the look Charlotte wore. Her facade of "everything's alright" was broken.

Charlotte bit on the tip of her thumb, trying not to think about the last time someone touched her with such intensity. Too bad the memories spilled forth.

"Charlotte, you know..." She turned her head as he grasped her hand. The boy pulled her towards him, their bodies touching oh so slightly. He wasn't even that cute. His breath was on her neck. "Charlotte, let me show you my love..."

If he says he loves you.

The memories were broken, only simple shards remained. The stench of blood. Fearful eyes. His screams, and the reassuring voices. And her own cries.

Perhaps he loves you now.

"M-m-myron, I-I-I d-don't don't no. You c-can't. Matt Derkinson." Charlotte collapsed onto the floor, she was pulling her hair slightly. And Myron could see them.

The scars.

Multiple on her wrists, thin on her arms. Some fresh, many old. But so many. They had not been visible before because Charlotte always had her wrists covered.

But now everything was shown to Myron.

Myron tore the IV out of his arm, clenching his teeth at the pain. He ignored the feel of his bones grinding together as he got out of bed and crouched beside her, his hands hovering above her, somehow feeling that his touch would to nothing to help. "Charlotte. Charlotte... Charlotte!" He was trying to calm her, trying to think of something, anything, that might work. White, horrible lines across her wrists caught his eye, and tears blurred his vision, but he tried to blink them away. "Charlotte, what happened? What about Matt Derkinson? Please Charlotte tell me... Let me help you..." The pain of seeing her like this was more than a thousand broken ribs. Each breath he took tore at his chest, but each tear, each whimper of Charlotte's shattered his heart...

He fought for breath now, only taking in shallow amounts of air, trying not to tear his lungs open. "Charlotte..." He gasped. "Tell me... what's wrong..." His legs gave out, and his body fell the few inches between him and the floor. He couldn't breath... But he had to help Charlotte. Nothing was more important than helping Charlotte.

"Charlotte... Please..." Things were going black. Shit... He couldn't keep his eyes open. So tired... No! Not until Charlotte is alright. He must stay strong. Atleast until he knows what's wrong...

"I-I oh god, oh god, oh god. It's all coming back. No no no no no no no no no no... Please God, no. I don't want to remember, I'm not supposed to remember, this shouldn't be happening, my medicine should be working..." Her hands had woven a tight grip onto her golden locks, she was rocking back and forth. Charlotte was muttering inconsistencies, she was trapped in her own little world again.

"Can I trust you to keep me breathing as the water rises up again? Can I trust anybody? Can you catch me? I'm falling all over again...." Charlotte's eyes fluttered open. It was like having an out-of-body experience, she was watching herself, watching Myron, unable to do anything.

All of a sudden, Myron was leaning his head towards the ground, his eyes closing. She could hear a bell, a siren of sorts screaming in her ear, as some male nurses came into the room.

And everything after that was shadowed.