I distinctly hear footsteps and shuffling, and I feel thirsty. Really thirsty.

I open my eyes but quickly shut them from the blinding light in the room or wherever I'm at. This time I open my eyes slowly and blink every couple of seconds until my eyes become adjusted to the light being shone into, what I can tell, a white room. Finally getting my vision focused, I notice a blonde  woman in scrubs standing in front of a written-on white board with her back facing me. I look around and see another bed next to mine but it's empty and a TV hanging on the wall across from me. I glance down at my hands and notice and IV attached to my wrist that is hooked up to a bag holding liquid, standing next to machines by my bed.

The nurse, I realize, turns around and looks at me startled to find me awake, but quickly recovers from the shock and hurries over to my side. She smiles tentatively at me. "How're you feeling, sweetheart?" Her voice is soft and calming, I notice.

"Fine." I add, "A little thirsty."

"Right. You must be extremely thirsty," she realizes. "I'll get you a cup of water right away." She is about to leave but I weakly grab hold of her hand and she stops then looks at me worriedly. "Yes?" she asks.

"Why am I in the hospital?" I ask her in a scratchy and hoarse voice.

"You lost a lot of blood from a piece of shattered glass that you stepped on," she tells me, honestly. "It cut into one of your veins."

My mouth slightly drops open in shock.

"I know," she agrees. "You should thank your mother for calling the ambulance when she did. You came to us in a bad shape, might I add. For a second we thought you wouldn't make it out alive" I let go of her hand and digest what she told me. "I'll tell your parents that you're awake now," she informs me before she leaves the room.

The second I hear the door close shut I begin to panic knowing that what I did last night was foolish and stupid, and the heart monitor can prove it. I can't believe I let my emotions get the better of me and drive me to lose control of the steering wheel. Truth be told, I never did have both of my hands on the steering wheel, but at least I always had one hand since the last time I drove off the road. I was doing so well, at least that's what I thought, but in reality I was just shoving all of that pent up emotions and memories underneath everything else. I was hiding, masking what I truly felt like last time. One would think that after committing a mistake one won't ever make the same mistake twice, but I guess I'm just one of the few who needs a good smack to the face until I learn.

I guess I just wanted everyone to believe that I was fine and that I was coping when in truth be told I was doing the opposite of that. Everyone believed it too - at least for the most part. I foolishly thought that I could handle it all by myself, and by "handle it" I meant completely ignore the problem at hand and pray it will go away on it's own. But that's not how one gets rid of their problems. You have to accept it and face it head on. And because of my foolishness and recklessness I ended up driving everyone away and hurting the people who mean the most to me.

Stupid. So stupid. I know I am. I have seen my report cards - numerous of times, in fact.

I hear the door open and I look up from my self misery and see Ma rush over to me and embrace me in a bear hug. She practically is crushing me to death while she rocks us back and forth while she is stuttering and blubbering.

"Oh, Gwen," she whispers still hugging me as if I'll slip from her grasp. I don't blame her since I've done that before. "You scared me half to death."

I wrap my arms around her and say, "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head backing out of our hug to look directly at me. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry," she tells me.

I stare at her, puzzled at her statement.

"I saw you hurting. I don't know why, but I saw it and I didn't nothing."

"You tried, Ma," I tell her.

She smiles sadly. "I could've kept trying, but instead I ignored it and stopped trying."

I shake my head. "You did your best under the circumstance you were forced into."

She sits down on the chair next to my bed, and now that she's still I finally take in the shape she is in. She looks like she did last night but times two, and I look away aware that I'm the reason for why she looks like she is one Sara McLachlan commercial away from bursting into tears that resemble waterfalls. She reaches for my hand and brushes her thumb over my knuckles in a comforting manner that eases my heart making it go back to its normal heart rate.

I hear someone clear their throat and my head snaps up to look at the person who made the sound that interrupted this calming moment. To say that I'm flabbergasted is an understatement at the sight of Pa standing my the counter against the wall across from me. He too looks like a mess but not as bad as Ma, but to simply see him look even the slightest bit messy is a miracle, so imagine what I'm going through seeing him look as badly as Ma was last night.

He glances around the tiny and brightly lit room awkwardly, looking out of place with his name brand clothes he is wearing. He takes a step forward but when our eyes meet he stops and takes a step back returning to where he started from. Ma glances between us nervously before she clears her throat and stands up.

"I'm going to check what is taking that nurse so long with that cup of water," Ma announces before she scurries out of the room leaving the room open for people to walk in at any moment. We watch her with identical longing looks for her to come back and put an end to this thick tension I can feel in the room. She doesn't come back, and at this moment I wish I had telepathic powers.

"Um," Pa murmurs nervously.

I turn my head to look at him better.

"How are you?" he finally says. I pause, and wonder why he is even here to begin with. Apparently my wish is granted because Pa speaks to answer the question bouncing in my head. "I still love you, Gwen," he tells me with a surprising amount of sincerity in his voice.

I give him a deadpan stare.

"Okay, I know I haven't shown that love I speak of these past few years," he admits. "However, in my defense I was never good at expressing my emotions."

I raise an eye brow wondering if that is his pitiful excuse for his lack of parenting these last few years.

"I know that's no excuse. I know," he informs me. "I guess I just. . . I just. . ." He stops speaking and stares at the ground while pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance with himself. I give him a couple of minutes to compose himself before he resumes where he left off. He drops his hand and looks at me with this new spark of determination that clearly shows on his face like I've never seen before.

"Gwen, I'm not going to lie to you or avoid your questions," he promises. "I'm going to be completely honest here and tell you that I love your mother, but not in the romantic way that it was in the beginning of our relationship. I got your mother pregnant and we got married before you were born. I didn't want to marry your mother - I wasn't ready for the responsibility like your mother was, but I went through with it because I was forced to and that was how I was raised. And after several years I realized I couldn't continue living the rest of my life as a lie, so I divorced your mother. I thought that I could continue living my life the way I always wanted to, and I'm sorry to say that it trumped being your father."

I scowl at him. "That - "

" - Doesn't mean I had the right to treat you the way I did. I know," he finishes my sentence for me as he takes a step forward. "It's a little late to say this but I had an epiphany the last time you spent the weekend at my house," he tells me.

I stare at him slightly puzzled as to what he could possibly be referring to. Try as I might I can't seem to remember what it is that I said to him that could flick a switch inside him to act less like an asshole.

He sees my confused look and chuckles in disbelief taking a couple more steps. "You seriously don't remember?"

I shake my head.

"You called me a wuss," he clarifies, and everything comes back to me, clear as the day. "And you were right - you are right," he adds.

I shrugged still not buying into his charade or whatever it is that he is doing. "So?" I ask wondering when he'll get to the point.

"I've been running away from my problems instead to confronting them and I ended up hurting those who mean the world to me," he replies, echoing my thoughts from several minutes ago. "And I placed the blame on others so that I don't have to own up to the responsibilities along the way as well."

"How's that going?"

"How's what going?" he asks.

"The responsibilities," I clarify.

He exhales deeply. "It's difficult," he admits.

"Good," I mutter.

"Look, Gwen, I know that our relationship will never be able to go back to how it was before the divorce," he begins, "but I'm willing to give this another shot if you're willing."

I look away.

"Before you make your final decision," he says quickly as he takes a couple of urgent steps toward me, "I want to make it perfectly clear that I am not asking for your forgiveness. Like what I said to your mother, I don't expect that from the both of you. I just want to be the best father I can be, but only if you want to."

It' feels kind of weird to see Pa being truthful and surprisingly loving in what feels like forever, but I can't help but remember all the shit he added to my shitty life. The yelling and the hurtful arguments are there in my memories vividly, but so are the laughter and the hugs he gave me. I don't know if it's because I lost a lot of blood or because he looks sincere or because even though the past couple of years were hell I still desperately wanted my father back, but I nod.

He instantly grins in relief and joy, but I speak up crushing his good mood.

"You were an asshole and a heartless bastard to not only me and Ma but Anya as well," I tell him to which he nods knowingly. "But Anya still jumped with joy  knowing that we'd be going to your home, and she remained hopeful that you'd be the father she remembered you to be and had faith that you'd return that love. So, I will remain hopeful and keep faith that this second chance won't be in vain."

He nods. "I understand."

"Don't make me regret it," I beg him softly.

"You won't," he promises, taking one final step until he is right by my side. He smiles lightly and I mirror his smile, but it ends when Ma bursts into the room holding my cup of water and handing it over to me.

"Thank you," I mumble before I take deep gulps of water, and when I finish I hand it back to her.

"Sweetie, we'll be back in an hour," Ma tells me.

"Where are you going?" I ask her.

"To pick up Anya," Ma answers. "She was at her friend's house for a play date, but after, well, this she had to stay at her friend's house over night. I think she'll be excited to see you, anyway."

I smile knowing I'll be able to spend the rest of the day with Anya until I remember the promise I remembered making to her a couple of weeks ago. I feel guilty knowing that I broke it.

"Also, it'll give you time to speak to you friend," she adds, snapping out of my guilt-trance.

"Really?" I ask, hopeful that it's Max. Maybe this time I'll finally be able to explain to him why I've put him at arm's length since the moment I properly met him.

"He should be here any minute," Ma informs me. "I asked the nurse to bring him over."

I sit up straight a little too excited to finally bare my heart to him and my Ma notices but simply smiles a knowing look. She kisses me on the forehead and Pa awkwardly gives me a hug before they walk out of the room. A minute passes by when my visitor enters the room and my face falls at the sight of Callum. He enters the room with an obvious fake jolly demeanor as if he is desperately trying to hide something very important from me. He is grinning but like most people their eyes betray them. They don't say that eyes are the windows to the soul simply because it sounds poetic.

He must also notice they way my excitement turns sour when I realize that it's him and not my gold eyed Max. I truly am glad to see him visit me but he isn't the person I need to see at the moment. It's not like our friendship hangs on whether I reveal to him every horrible encounter I've had since I was fourteen. But from the way his body language changes almost instantaneously he isn't happy that I'm not happy to see him.

"Nice to know where our friendship stands," Callum says dully as he takes his seat next to my bed. "Am I not geeky enough for you?"

I vehemently shake my head to let him know that it's not what he thinks.

He chuckles. "I was joking, Gwen." When he sees me hesitate he adds, "Seriously."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I had. Laying back on the pillows trying to get comfortable I ask, "How are you?"

"Fine," he says as he leans back in his seat. "But the real question here is: how are you?"

"I'm fine," I mumble knowing well enough that he is trying to sneak this conversation back to what happened to me yesterday with Curt.

He snorts as he shakes his head. "What a bunch of bull. You wouldn't be in the hospital if you were fine, Gwen."

"Well, I'm fine now," I insists.

"I'm not buying it, and don't try to give me some ridiculous excuse. I'm not your peers,  or your family, or Max. I am your friend and I am honestly and truthfully worried about you just like everyone else who loves you," he says sternly.

"I. . ." I start but decide not to continue, so I snap my mouth shut.

"You what?" he urges me on.

I look away from him and pull my legs to my chest and I wrap my arms around them over the thin blankets the hospital hands out. I glance out of my corner of my eye to see if he really is determined about this. His brown eyes bore at the side of my face with a look that can only be described as stubbornness.

I sigh as I wonder if I'll regret this. "I haven't had the best time since the start of my adolescent, but I'll spare you the details. There's nothing you can change to alter the past anyway."

"I know I can't," he admits. "But I can be one of what I'm guessing are the few shoulders you can cry on, and I can be there if you need an ear to listen to you and your problems." He continues, "Just because you think you're strong enough to handle every twist and turn life hands you doesn't mean you get to shut me out. I can't promise you that I'll always be at an arm's length, but I can promise you this: I'll always care."

I press my lips together feeling my heart squeeze knowing that I also worried Callum. "This speech wouldn't happen to be about the conversation I had with the guy from yesterday, or does it?"

"It's partially related," he admits. When he notices me sinking lower he quickly adds, "I may not know exactly what happened between the two of you, but whatever he did to you must have been awful enough to make you cry. And you certainly don't deserve that."

I smile weakly, feeling slightly better. Not even my old friends were willing to lend an ear or their shoulder for me, and it makes me feel stupid for ever thinking that they were my friends.

"You and Max are the best friends I've ever had," I reveal to him while keeping the faint smile on my lips. My stomach knots up at the mention of Max and I'm only able to imagine the emotions he has felt throughout everything I've made him suffer through. For a girl who has a crush on a guy I have a horrible way of showing it.

"Actually, that is what I wanted to talk to you about from the beginning," he admits making me look at him anxiously at what is so urgent that he just has to tell me. "A few days after your guys' date he told me that you've been ignoring him and that he was worried since you didn't okay according to him. You really hurt him with that stunt you pulled on him. Then yesterday he calls me and asks me to meet him at the diner as soon as possible since he needed some moral support.

"After you left I went to the diner and I told him that I was you left practically in tears after talking to some guy. At that moment that guy passes by the window and I pointed at him, and net thing I knew he was off but not before telling me to wait for him here. I did exactly that, but after two hours I knew he wouldn't be returning," he tells me.

"What are you saying?" I ask slowly while I try to slow down my pulse that seems to only be getting faster and faster by the second.

He audibly gulps while looking away. This is definitely not a good sign. "Well, I haven't had any contact with Max since I went to the dinner yesterday afternoon," he reveals.

My eyes grow wide and on instinct my hand cover my gaping mouth as I start to feel sick to my stomach.  I think I might throw up at any second now. "And his parents?" I ask shakily.

"They know he is well and alive" -  I sigh in relief  - "I think. " I swear my heart just dropped to my stomach. "They haven't exactly seen him," he informs me.

"What the hell does that mean?" I demand.

"Let me explain myself before you shoot the messenger."

"Not in the mood, Callum," I say seriously.

"He is eating, and I know this because his parents told me that they left plates filled with food and when they went to pick it up a couple of hours later the plates were empty," he explains.

"Don't you guys share classes?" I question worriedly.

"Yes," he agrees, "but he got there right before the lecture started and was the first one to leave when the class was over." He adds, "I didn't get a good look at him."

"Great," I mutter. I cover my face with my hands while I shake my head. Knowing that no one has had contact with him in over twenty-four hours is a bit scary. To anyone else this might be normal teenager angst, but Max has been known to shut people out when he is going through personal problems. And now that I'm thinking about this I realize that we both tend to push people out and think that we can solve our own problems by ourselves. This only raises my anxiety levels up a couple of notches. One more and I think I might have a panic attack. I suppose I'm lucky that Callum is telling me this in a hospital and not anywhere else, I realize bitterly.

I throw my covers off of me and stand up, and Callum jumps up and gently pushes me back to the bed. I scowl at him ready to give him a piece of my mind when he shushes me, aware that I was going to say a few colorful words at him for not letting me out of this cage. If I didn't know any better I would think that he didn't really care much for Max's state of mind or is he is okay in general.

"I'm all for barging into Max's house to get to the bottom of this, but you are in the hospital and your parents have yet to sign your release papers," he reminds me.

"Screw the system," I seethe, annoyed that Callum won't let me go. "God only knows what Max is enduring."

"I know that you're worried, Gwen, but let me handle this."

"You just - "

"You can't handle this since you're kind of trapped here so I will go investigate for you. I'll inform you every step of the way until you're out, okay?" he promises. "Just stay here and don't get a heart attack from this whole mess. Max is a big boy," he