A/N: About a week ago, I was sitting in English class and inspiration hit me. I don't know where it came from and why my writer's block decided to break a week ago when I haven't written in months, but it did. And now, I have a new story. I know that I'm now writing three stories at the same time, and I'm going to try and keep them all updated equally. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I will. :D This one idea just would NOT leave me alone. Had to get it down somehow so I decided to make it into a brand new story. I don't exactly know where this story is going. To be honest, I don't even have a plot fully planned out yet. I'm just sort of typing and the words keep coming. :D

Anyways. Read and review, please. And enjoy!

Chapter One


All the pain I thought I knew,

all the thoughts lead back to you.

Back to what was never said;

back and forth inside my head.

I can't handle this confusion,

I'm unable, come and take me away.


"What?" I looked over at Jack. He was sitting next to me on our dimly lit porch in front of my family's three bedroom apartment. His dark blue eyes were staring into mine as if he were reading my every thought. He knew. He knew that something was wrong. He can always usually read me like a book--your best friend usually always can. I took a quick breath and held it in to stop the tears from falling. I shakily asked him, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He didn't stop staring at me. He didn't even blink. "Why are you crying?" He quietly answered me; so quietly that I had to strain my ears to hear what he was saying.

I bit my lip and dug my nails into the palms of my hands. I promised myself that I would never let anyone see me cry. I took a deep breath and tried steadying my voice, "I'm not crying."

The sudden breeze blew his dark hair into his eyes, the porch light behind him swaying to and fro, flickering on and off, on and off. He slightly shook his head, disagreeing with me, "I would believe you if you wouldn't lie to me."

If you wouldn't lie to me.

Flashbacks of this morning were coming back to me at an amazingly rapid pace.

"…Stop lying to me. Stop."

"I'm not lying, I'm--"

Greg tried to say something. He tried to make me believe him.

"Stop! I know you, Greg. I won't believe you."

"No, Memory, wait--"

I just wouldn't let him.

"No. I won't wait. I've been waiting long enough for the truth, Greg."

I walked away from Greg Davis that morning. I walked away from him for good. No one knew about what went on between Greg and I, only we both knew that. He was 18, one year older than me. He worked for Dad at the book store. We got to know each other more and more each day, and before I knew it, a month had passed. He asked me to be his girlfriend and I said yes.

That was one of the biggest mistakes I had ever made.

Our whole relationship was a disaster. Lie after lie after lie. Fight after fight after fight. He hit me once; slapped me across the face. It stung, almost knocked me to the ground. He felt 'bad' afterwards and kept apologizing, "Baby, baby, I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry." That was when I knew that our relationship wouldn't work. No one can hit me and get away with it. I kicked him in the one place no guy wants to be kicked, and he never hit me again.

I didn't love him and I didn't think I ever would. After spending three and a half weeks in our relationship, I realized that I couldn't trust him either. He would lie to me a lot. At first it was little white lies, saying that he was going out with his parents when he was actually hitting the bar with his friends. Why he wouldn't invite me to go along with him, I had no idea. I thought that he would eventually stop lying; I thought I could give him a second chance.

Until I borrowed his cell phone to call my mom and someone beeped in on the other line.

"Hold on, Mom. Someone's on the other line for Greg. Let me get it real quick and I'll call you back." I was staring at the unfamiliar telephone number suspiciously--I knew all of Greg's friends' telephone numbers because they called me too, sometimes, looking for Greg. Mom told me goodbye and reminded me that I was supposed to eat out with the family that night.

I never did end up calling Mom back that night. Nor did I go out to dinner with my family. I was too busy crying my eyes out.

Turns out Greg had been cheating on me with Lindsey, a girl his age that works for my dad. When I found out, I didn't tell him that I knew. I wanted to see if he would feel guilty and fess up. I don't know why I waited as long as I did for him to tell me, because he never did tell me. He didn't tell me why he cheated on me, either.

I went through that week-long stage where I didn't speak with anyone. I was locked up in my room the whole week and I didn't eat, I didn't speak, I didn't listen to music, I didn't read, I didn't do anything. I didn't even cry for half of the week. At first, I didn't actually believe that he cheated on me. I thought that it was all a terribly realistic nightmare and I would soon wake up from it all.

I never did.

But the funny thing is this: Greg never broke up with me. I never broke up with him. I guess it was sort of an unspoken mutual agreement. He cheated on me, I found out, and he never spoke to me again. Until this morning, when he came running up to me, trying to explain himself.

Suddenly, I was back on my front porch sitting next to Jack. He was still staring at me intensely, his dark blue eyes growing even darker. They usually do that when he's worried. The breeze had picked up, whipping my long, brown hair against my face. The sky was clear and the stars were brightly shining. I looked up at the sky, hoping to avoid Jack's gaze.

"Memory. Talk to me."

I shivered from the cool breeze and looked back over at Jack, biting my lip to hold in what I wanted to say.

Greg cheated on me. I really don't know what to do now…because I'm acting so strong and so brave and I'm trying not to let you know how I feel because if I let you know then you'll feel sorry for me and that's the last thing I want from you--your sympathy is the last thing that I want from you.

But I didn't dare say any of that. It would have made things so much more complicated.

Jack sighed and rested his arms on his knees, putting his face into his hands. His voice was muffled as he spoke, "If you aren't going to tell me what is bothering you, I'll leave." He moved to get up and I grabbed his arm.

"No." It came out as a whisper, soft and weak, carrying away with the wind. Jack sat back down and I cleared my throat. "No." I said louder, though it still sounded weak and vulnerable. But that's how I felt: weak and vulnerable. I wanted to be strong. I really did. I really tried.

Jack locked eyes with me, "Memory, you don't have to be strong. I'm your friend. If you feel like you have to be strong when you're with me, then--I don't know. Just stop." The wind blew his hair further past his eyes, hiding them for a split second. He stopped looking at me and looked up at the stars.

I opened my mouth to say something and he interrupted me, "Why don't you trust me?" He paused and looked back at me. I took a breath to say something and he interrupted me again, "No, Memory. Really. Why don't you trust me? Why won't you talk to me? You're so locked up and hidden. I don't even know if you notice it half the time."

I notice. I just hoped that others didn't because I was trying to avoid conversations like the one taking place.

He continued talking, calmly and quietly, though he wasn't aware of the fact that his words were cutting deep. "You won't open up to anyone. You're so--guarded."

A warm tear slipped down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away with my hand. Please be quiet, Jack. Please. This isn't helping.

He went silent after that. I don't know if it was because he saw the tear or if it was because Greg had just pulled up. I grimaced, "Oh, god, no. Not him. Not now." Jack gave me a confusing look as Greg stormed up to me. He gave Greg a nod, not receiving the gesture in return. Instead, Greg grabbed my wrist and pulled me up to him. Jack suddenly stood up too and looked at us strangely.

Jack knew about Greg and he knew that he was my boyfriend, but he didn't know that Greg had once hit me or that Greg cheated on me or that Greg was lying to me throughout our whole relationship. So it was no surprise that Jack started to intervene.

Jack's voice was firm, "Hey, what are you doing?"

Greg looked over at Jack with a fierce look on his face, "I'm talking to my girlfriend, idiot. Shut up."

"You're girlfriend happens to be my best friend, dumb ass. Let her go."

Greg ignored him and looked at me with the same ferocity that he had looked at Jack with. I held my breath, prepared for him to hit me. I squeezed my eyes shut. The blow never came, but his voice whispered harshly in my ear, "We need to talk."

I gulped and looked over at Jack, clearing my throat, "I'll--I'll be right back. Wait here."

Jack's jaw tightened and he clenched a fist at his side. He didn't answer me, but I knew that he would be there when I got back. Greg harshly pulled me about fifteen yards away from Jack and put his hands firmly on my shoulders.

"Greg, I really don't think this is a good time." I looked over at Jack who was sitting attentively on the porch, watching our every move.

Greg's voice was harsh and raspy, "Any time is a good time, if I say so. You're going to listen to me and listen to me good, Memory. Okay?"

I weakly nodded, my eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"I didn't mean to cheat on you, okay? Lindsey started all of it and she wouldn't let me stop."

I looked up at him and spoke angrily, "What?"

The look on his face disappeared and his eyes widened. All of my sadness was turning into anger and that was not a good thing. When I got angry with Greg, he would usually yell at me to put me in my place. I was praying that Jack wouldn't try anything.

He tried to speak, but I continued, "She wouldn't let you stop? It takes two to have sex, Greg. You can't be forced unless it was rape. I'm positive that she didn't rape you and I'm pretty sure that there were no handcuffs or padlocks involved--unless you like it kinky."

His eyes narrowed, "You don't understand!! Why are you being so damn stubborn? I told you, she forced me into it. And I tried telling her that I'm in love with you. Not her, Memory."

I folded my arms across my chest and the tears brimming at my eyes turned from tears of sadness to tears of hate and regret. "Bullshit. You're lying. Just like you always have been."

His face contorted into an indescribable expression as he raised his right hand and slapped me across the face--hard. The tears I had been trying to hold in slid down my face. No sooner than I could lift my hand up to my burning, throbbing face, Jack came running up to me and Greg.

He looked at Greg incredulously, "Who the hell do you think you are?" Before Greg could answer, Jack punched him square in the face. Greg stumbled backwards and gave me a look that I couldn't decipher. My face was burning and my head was throbbing and I couldn't stop crying. Greg lurched forward at Jack and punched him in the stomach, and Jack doubled over, holding onto his stomach. He quickly stood up, trying to look strong, and raised his fist to hit Greg again. I was crying harder. I really didn't want them to fight over me. I don't deserve to be fought over. I'm no one special.

"Stop! Please! Stop!" my voice was shaky and I was crying loudly. Greg and Jack both stopped, breathing heavily, and looked at me. Greg shook his head, "You're so weak, Memory. You always have been." And he walked around the front of his car, got in, and drove off.

I watched the car as he drove further down the street and turned the corner, out of sight. I could feel Jack looking at me and I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't. I looked at him and smiled weakly, tears still running down my face. He came closer to me and wiped them away with his thumbs. The gesture made me cry even more. He frowned, "I don't like it when you cry."

I took another quivering breath, "Neither do I."

He took another step towards me and wrapped his arms around me. I buried my head into his shoulder and hugged him back. He rubbed his hand up and down my back and kept whispering in my ear, "It's okay. It's okay."

But what I wanted to tell Jack was that it wasn't okay. Everything wouldn't be okay. He doesn't know Greg like I do.

And Greg will stop at nothing until he gets me back.