(OKAY: Update from one day AFTER this a/n was posted on this chappie: Im very happy to say that this has been reviewed five times now :D which is awesomely cool, and Im sorry I didn't mention these people who reviewed yesterday when I was saying -ahem- "PPL! i KNOW ur reading this!". That was very unfair and rude of me, SO:

Thank you immensely for giving me an atitude adjustment, and helping me stay motivated to keep writing this story: (In the order that I just felt like writing them, no favorite person or anything o.o)

Midge 1012--First Reveiwer! yay you!! -hands a cyber trophy-

The Black Rose 1995--Tysm for favoriting the story!! And your really nice reviews make me happy :D

weirdpeopleruletheworld--XD I know hes such an arse!! And yes, they let her leave. Ty for the review, it made me laugh XD

I apologize a million times if I missed you, I made this a/n one day, left for gymnastics, and then finished the chap the next day, without checking my email (either that or I had to leave again and I didn’t feel like adding a few other names o.o im lazy like that). Sorry again!!

Now, on with the story!!)

I was lying in the sun, trying to tune out the vicious thoughts I still had, the ones I wished would just go away, because I shouldn’t have to hear them anymore.

I wonder if Gazz and Ig are making another bomb, troublemakers...

Is Nudge trying hair-dye on Angel again?

How’s Fangs’ worshipped blog doing? Do I actually care...?

I wanna watch Iggy fail at cooking for once, please, if there is a god...

Angel better not try to mind control me. Or try that on anyone for that matter; unless we need a hotel room again.

I really hope there aren’t any Erasers around, that would ruin this nice.... silence....

I sat up quickly, realizing that I’d dozed off.

Then again, did I care anymore if I was caught by the School, Itex? Did it honestly matter, since I knew that they would only experiment on me now, not my family, my best friends?

No, no it didn’t. Not to me anyway. Did it matter to them? Maybe the kids, but they’d get over it. Wouldn’t they? So I could just disappear, then, it doesn’t honestly matter anymore.

(A/n don’t worry, plot progression happening, she isn’t actually gonna kill herself. But if this kind of stuff bothers you, for some odd reason it doesn’t bother me, you can skip this, I’ll tell you when emo part is over, okay??)

I slowly took the pocket knife out of the backpack and stared at it. I zipped up the bag again, stuffing my hoodie into it and sunglasses.

The blade glinted warningly in the light. It reminded me of the machinery at the School that we had to run on, to keep from hainvg more shiny things hurt us, poke and prick us. As I was about to do--on purpose. I brought the knife toward my arms slowly.

(Okay, I decided not to do a description of what you knew would happen, so I guess it ends here)

A few minutes later I realized I had gone a little too far. Not that anyone cared—heck, I couldn’t car less anymore.

Blood was running down my arms, making the bruises I had sustained, from landing clumsily in grief, turn a sickly purple-blue color, and my arms sting like heck.

I gently leaned against the wall of the street I was next to, and stared at the traffic rolling by, until my vision was blurring from blood-loss, and finally ‘til it just all turned black.

Third person

As Max fell down the wall, sliding until she was laying flat on the ground, a passer-by noticed the homeless-looking girl had immense cuts and significant injuries anyway, all over her. Now, normally this is a usual sight in New York city, a person lying on the ground, dying. But it is never accompanied by a glinting knife, week old-heling cuts and bruises, and actually cleaner looking hair than usual. Another thing that caught the passer-bys eye was the almost unbelieveably depressed look on the girls face, the insanely fierce need to escape it, so much so that she had apprently been killing herself--making sure to cut along the veins so more blood would come. The passer-by dodged traffic and ran across the street to help.

“Hello? Hey, stay with me, I’m gonna help you, just hold on.” The person muttered into Max’s ear.

Max, hearing the voice that was trying to interfere, clenched a fist on her injured arm and then gritted her teeth in pain. She’d cut through the muscle there.

“Someone call 911! This girl needs medical attention!” The passer-by had a medical degree anyway, so they ripped Max’s hoodie off and into strips, covering her arms with them, even when she tried to punch whoever was messing with her, because of the stinging.

“Just let me go. I have nothing to live for, now...” she groaned weakly, still fighting the passer-by in their attempts to help her, before she nearly passed out from lack of blood to her brain.

“You have yourself to live for, and it isn’t selfish to do that, girl.” They said fiercely, tying the strips on even tighter, until the ambulance came and she was taken to the nearest hospital.