Me and Him? Pffft Yeah, Right {FIN}

Hurt~*2*

'Some days I feel broke inside but I won't admit

Sometimes I just wanna hide 'cause it's you I miss

And it's so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this, ooh, whoa

Would you tell me I was wrong?

Would you help me understand?

Are you looking down upon me?

Are you proud of who I am?

There's nothing I wouldn't do

To have just one more chance

To look into your eyes and see you looking back'

Hurt by Christina Aguilera

When I was twelve year's old, my parents moved us from Germany to America. It was a big change, especially since they chose Alaska. We moved and had to go through a cold and harsh winter about a month after mine and Dazy's thirteenth birthday. There was a huge blizzard, cutting our power from our small log cabin, so we used candles for lights along with a small fire.

The house became pitch black one day, and Chris was helping Dazy pack so we could move into the house we live in today. My parents were feeding the fire, and I was getting logs for it. I had my arms filled with logs, so I wasn't able to see where I was walking. It didn't help with the fact that I was clumsy while carrying the logs. There must've been a log or bag on the ground, because I tripped and fell on my dad. He was poking the fire as I tried and... he was pushed face first into the fire. The screams were muffled, and my mom's cries were loud as she tried pulling him out.

The sight was too much for me to handle, so I backed away, and tried running. My mom left the candle she had just lit right behind me, so I tripped over it, unable to take my eyes off the scene. The candle fell on my mom's pants, and it quickly caught fire. Her screams suddenly became muffled as my dad's went silent as the fire scorched him and made it's way to her.

I screamed for Christian, and he took Dazy and I through the blizzard and to our car as the house started burning. The firefighters arrived immediately, and the three of us knew we were left with only a few bags, and our parents' car.

The screaming for Christian echoed in my mind as I tried forcing the memories away. I started the fire, and it killed both of my parents. My dad so proud of me when I helped cut the wood, and start the fires in the wood stove. I fought back tears as I quickly washed my hair and body. I got out and dried off before getting dressed. I put on black skinny jeans, a blue tank top, my knee high black converse, and a grey sweater. Pulling my brush through my hair a few times, I pulled it into a tight bun before walking back to my room to see Dazy there.

"What did the principal tell you?" she asked me.

"That I have after school detention for three weeks with one of the new kids." "You didn't have to fight them- someone called for the principal before you and Brian were even outside."

"So?"

"Never mind... Anyways, Macon called and he'll be flying back tomorrow."

"Really?" Macon was my second closest friends since seventh grade. He flew to Maine to visit some family about a week ago.

"Yeah. He said he'll stop by sometime after he gets here." Dazy paused and looked at what I was wearing before shaking her head. "I wish you'd stop fighting." "I wish you and Brian stopped nagging me about it." I told her.

She sighed and shook her head again. "Maybe Macon can get you out of fighting."

I smirked. "I hope you know he'd never do that. He taught me everything I know."

"Are your serious...?"

I nodded. "Yep."

Dazy groaned before getting up. "I'll bring you some supper if you're not back by then. Don't come home with any broken bones- I doubt Christian will want to know what you do at night."

"'Kay." I watched her leave before turning off my light and closing the door. I grabbed a few pillows and blankets from my closet and stuffed them under my comforter, until it looked like someone was sleeping. It usually takes a month or two of practice to get it perfect, but I learned how to do it quickly.