AN: Ahh, I'm finally back!;) While I don't know for how long I'll be staying here, I'm determined to re-start this story, and, eventually, bring it to its completion. I just could not stand the version previous to this one; it was too rushed for my taste. I'm thinking this story is gonna span somewhere towards the end of summer? I can't promise anything, honestly, but I'll try my best.

Now, let's not hate me for starting over? I'm not going to change much, or so I think:P

Puzzle Pieces

I wasn't thinking of much at the time, if at all. All I wanted was to sleep – to escape the cruelty of a five-hour plane ride and to sleep. The word repeated itself a million times over in my head, and, before I knew it, I was drifting off into the smell of detergent and fabric softener. The sheets beneath me were rather comfortable, and the fact that they were pink didn't throw me off one bit. At least the people who made this bed had good taste in laundry supplies; it smelled like heaven. My mouth was a lazy grin as my eyes fluttered shut and my body began to shut down for a good night's rest.

Until somebody decided to hit my ass with a shoe.

"Get up, Jake! You lazy sack of…" My dad's voice trailed off as he left my room, taking with him the shoe that he had picked up off my bedroom floor.

"Damnit!" I snapped, bolting upright. "What's it gonna take for me to get some sleep around here?!"

Because I wasn't expecting an answer, I jumped in surprise when my mom poked her head in my doorway, smiling with all of the eagerness in the world. If there was one thing I loved about my mother, it was that she never quit, even when I knew she was exhausted.

"You can sleep after you make your bed, Jake," she said. "God only knows who was last on those sheets! Now, get off of them before you develop some sort of disease that forces us to spend thousands of dollars at some random hospital in the middle of nowhere!"

"What the fu…"

"Curse, and you'll be up for a lot more punishment than needing to make your bed."

She flashed another cheery smile before skipping off down the hallway, probably looking for my dad.

Angrily, I kicked the sheets off of my bed. There, now I wouldn't get any mysterious diseases, and, if my mom asked, I'd just tell her that it was too hot to use any of the blankets she wanted me to.

Before I fell back onto the mattress, I let my eyes examine the room. The walls were freshly painted – a dull white color that my parents promised I could paint over some time soon, – and a brand new ceiling fan had been installed. It was in pretty nice shape for having been built only a few months ago.

Our house was completely brand-new, built over the remains of what used to be my home four years back. It was knocked down for parts after my parents decided that they wanted to move back to Pennsylvania, and whatever was useable was used to help build a more extravagant version of the place we used to call home. We had come a long way from California, but it didn't matter much when we as rich as we were. Whatever we wanted, we got.

Much to my disapproval.

While I should have been grateful for having all of that money, I was greatly affected by the news. The last thing I wanted was to come back. I had left a pretty big mess behind me, and I wasn't too thrilled at the idea of needing to fix it.

Still, I managed to hang onto the hope that whatever I had left in my past had stayed there. All of my old friends, the annoying next-door neighbor – they didn't know me anymore. I was now a completely different person, one who didn't have the time to play with the puzzle pieces of my past. The present was my problem, with the stress of college applications and getting ready to complete my last year of high school.

Screw the problems I had. Regardless of how people felt about me, I wasn't going to give them the pleasure.

Of course, 'people' really meant 'person', and their opinion was probably the only one that I had ever valued. Even when we weren't around each other, even when we gave up on our friendship, I always found myself wondering what they'd think of my decisions.

Four years. Shit. I'd thought about them every other day for four years straight, even when I had nothing to remember them by. I had no pictures – they had all been burned, no connections – they had told me not to call, and nothing they owned – it was all taken back.

I was so fucking guilty.

My mother had told me previously that they were still around, living in the same house that they had occupied all those years ago. Against my wishes, she had called their mother. At first, they started squealing with excitement over the news, but, towards the end, my mom very boldly asked if they could come and visit. I glared at her and did my best to psychically persuade her to change her mind, to tell them that we'd be busy all week with unpacking boxes. She didn't get the message.

They were coming over the next day.

Alex Jakobsen was coming over my house after four years of hating me.

Shoot me. Just put me out of my misery.

-sighs- It was short, I know. Let's not complain?xP