Sometimes I look in the mirror and see that eight year old girl who was desperate for someone to love her. Who yelled and screamed just for someone to pay her some attention, someone to love her. The one who watched her world crumble before her eyes, not knowing just how many times she would have that same unbearably helpless feeling. Then other times, I look in the mirror and see what that desperate little eight year old became. A shattered 12 year old. 12 years old 12 years old. 12 god damn years old. I have to remind myself sometimes that I am only 12 years old. I feel infinitely older, wiser than any 12 year old should be. My soul carries more weight than a person of any age should.

The mirror shows what I was, and what I am, but never what I will become. But I don't think I need a mirror for that. I know what I will become. At each age, with each heartbreak I will become a little less. A little duller, a little more fragmented. Eventually I would be a mere skeleton of a person, any form of life or light drained from me. I knew it would happen. It was about as inevitable as death for someone like me. And the way things were going, it seems to me that I may become that skeleton sooner than I think.

I was exhausted. My breakdown last night had been the final straw in my exhaustion. It felt so permanent now. A part of me had wished this tiredness would fade with time, but years later I realize it may never. I may spend the rest of my life in the midst of trying to make it out alive. Tyler had held me all night. He assured me he wasn't upset anymore, although he had said we would talk about it all later on.

I hadn't slept for a second. My mind felt raw, like someone had taken a bat to my brain. I kept seeing her, the blood coating her skin. She had been stabbed. That's what the autopsy said. I knew who had done it. We all did. And when James Calder was arrested a month after Marley's murder, he acted proud of what he had done. Practically gloated that this was all his fault. He called her a cheater. Said it was his revenge. Marley was no cheater. She just wasn't. But even if she was, it was a petty offense to lose your life over.

He was sick. That's what the courts had said. That's why he got let off with a plea of 'mental instability'. Maybe he was sick. Or maybe he was just angry. Either way, I was the one who truly paid the price. At least Marley was free from the horrors of the world. At least she didn't have to see this injustice take place. It would kill her. I know it killed me.

Tyler and Logan had left an hour ago to get some coffee. Finley was watching some movie he had found on one of the hotel channels. And I was looking in my own eyes searching for some sort of life left in those green orbs of pain and sadness.

It made me sick to think there was none. I wasn't done yet. I was done fighting, but there was still life inside me. I had to remind myself that there was still life inside my cold body. I had to remind myself that 12, almost 13 years was not long enough. I sighed, as my search continued. The unique green of my eyes clouded over with tears, but I wouldn't let them fall. Not today. I was done crying. I had no tears left.

My hair was twisted up in a knot on top of my head, and my clothes, still big on my frail body, hung around me. I was wearing a t-shirt I had taken from Logan and a pair of sweatpants I had found in the bottom of my bag. I was a mess. And right now, my physical appearance reflected that. My eyes were still puffy and bloodshot from the early hours of the morning, my throat dry and scratchy. I felt sick, but not like the flu. I felt like I hadn't slept for weeks. I felt like I was slowly dying from the inside out.

Sighing, I pushed off the counter top and opened the door. Finley immediately looked up at me, slight worry in his features. He knew about last night. He hadn't said anything about it when he woke up this morning, but he had woken up last night and seen me in my state of breathless panic.

I still couldn't quite breath. My throat was tight and congested, my chest kept searching for air that didn't exist. It was excruciating to not be able to breath. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.

"Hey Iz." He forced a smile, pressing the mute button on the TV remote. I walked over slowly and took a seat on the bed opposite him. The way he looked at me made my heart beat faster. Like he was finally seeing through my facade. I hope that isn't the case. I'm not ready for them to see who I hide. She's better off deep within me. "You okay?" He asked softly, turning towards me. I didn't respond right away, just tucked my legs underneath me and pulled on the hem of the T-shirt. I wasn't sure what to say.

I wasn't okay. Not even a little. But I could see how badly he wanted me to be okay. How much he wanted me to be happy. It was like his lively spirit was in my hands and with a simple answer I could destroy it. But I didn't want to lie. I hated lying to someone who so obviously cared for me. Why he cared for me, I had no idea, but he did. I had seen with Logan last night that I meant more to these boys then I had thought. The cynical part of me reminded that it was simply obligation, but I liked to pretend it was out of fondness. We all eat lies when our hearts are hungry. I nodded slowly to Finleys question. He accepted it, despite knowing full well I was not okay.

"So you feel better?" He asked, a spark of adoration restored in his greenish blue eyes. A soft warmth bloomed in my chest to think that I made him happy. If I couldn't be okay, at least he should be.

"I'll be okay." It was the most truthful I could get without any truth to it. Theoretically, I would be okay eventually. Theoretically.

"They should be back soon. They're getting us some food too." Finley moved over, closing a little more of the gap between us. "Muffin sound okay?" He was making small talk. He didn't know what to say. It seemed no one ever did. I shrugged, thinking of that dry muffin I had forced down the day before.

That had been the last thing I ate, yet I still didn't feel hungry. Marley once called me a camel. I could go days without food and water. I remember Marley yelling at me, like I imagine a concerned mother would, about my food intake. She got so angry when she thought I wasn't taking care of myself. Finley smiled warily.

"Good." he moved away again, leaving a space open on the bed beside him. "Come sit. Avengers is on." I hesitated, wanting to keep my distance for a moment, but ultimately saw no real harm in watching a movie. I was afraid I was getting attached to these boys as they were to me, and attachment is scary. It's like a lock that keeps you entangled with someone else despite logic or real emotion. Much like love, attachment clouds your vision of reality.

We watched in silence for a moment, Finley glancing at me every few seconds. It was obvious that he was worried. I couldn't blame him. He had seen me breaking last night, something that I imagine they don't think me capable of doing. I wonder how he'll react when I officially break someday. I wonder if he'll have to witness that tragedy. Finley reached up slowly, as if he was afraid to startle me, and gently pulled my hair out of the mess it was in. The soft curls fell to my shoulders, curving around my ears and cheeks.

"Can I braid your hair for you?" Finley asked softly. I thought for a moment. I wondered why he would want to do something like that. I wondered what even made him think of that. But again, there was no harm in making him happy. So I nodded and moved around so my back was against his criss crossed legs. Gently, Finley began pulling his fingers through my hair in a way that made me sigh with contentment. It felt nice. So nice, that I wondered what would come next. I am so sick of having to wonder about everything. My mind is so worn from always having something to worry about.

"How do you know how to braid?" I asked, wanting just for a little while to immerse myself in pointless conversation.

"My girlfriend has three little sisters. She said I should learn how for Emma and now you."

"You have a girlfriend?" I asked. I could practically hear the smile in Finley's voice.

"Yeah. Her name is Sarah. She's pretty amazing." I hummed, relaxing further into his touch.

He was gentle in a way that reminded me of being a small child, maybe three of four years old. Mom pulling me into her lap, running her fingers through my hair, mumbling 'I love you's as she pressed kisses onto the back of my head. A simpler memory, that tends to get lost within all the painful ones. She had been a good mother once. Before she broke, she was soft and gentle and loving. Then the world did what it does best. It ruined that soft woman. It beat her down with stress and misfortune and forced her into a life equivalent to a nightmare.

I like to imagine that the mother she was, resided underneath that monster. It was a nice thought that perhaps her true self was still there somewhere. I closed my eyes. A sweet serenity fell over the room, the only noise being the soft buzzing of the TV. I felt Finley twist a hair tie at the end of my hair, his hand smoothing down the fly aways. He gently moved me so our eyes met, and graced me with a smile. It was so sweet and comforting just to see him smile.

"You have the prettiest eyes." He said.

I looked down, a soft blush covering my cheeks. "Thanks." I muttered.

He looked at me for a second, a long scrutinizing look. "What happened last night?" Finley asked quietly. I froze for a second. I hadn't been expecting that question. Maybe I should have. It seemed stupid that I would believe that anyone did anything nice out of anything other than pity. I should have known he had an angle with that unnecessary kindness.

"Just a dream." I muttered, looking down at my hands. My lip forced its way between my teeth, the all too familiar taste of metallic anxiety filling my mouth. "Iz," Finley put his hand over mine, in what I assume was meant to be a soothing manner, but all it did was make my body prickle with uncomfortable tension. "That wasn't just a dream." It's funny how people who know nothing about what they are talking about, always feel that they have a right to argue. "Dreams aren't that intense, I mean you woke up practically screaming and then broke into sobs."

My eyes never left my hands that rested in my lap. I have a scar on my left thumb from a cooking accident a few years ago. That's what I chose to think about instead of the dream he was asking me to recall. I had no desire to think of that. Every detail my dream was displayed so vividly like a movie I couldn't escape. Everytime I shut my eyes, I see red. A deep, crimson red that stained skin and tainted minds.

"Izzy, I'm asking you as your brother, your family to talk to me." He wasn't my family. For God's sake what right did he have to call himself my family?

The scar was small, and uninteresting, but pigs would fly before I looked at him. I was angry, but not the kind of anger that breeds impulse. I was the kind of angry that you push down, you hide. The kind that cuts away at you like glass.

"Izzy please." His desperation was becoming evident.

I thought just for a second that I should tell him. I imagined what it would feel like to have it off my chest, to not have to do it all alone. Then I remembered the gazes filled with pity, and the half hearted conversations. I remembered that this was my problem, no one else's. I stayed silent. Verbal rejection would only hurt him more. Illogical, yes but it was all I could do to think I was preserving that light in his eyes. He understood my silence. Slowly, Finley nodded and stood up.

It killed me to see the hurt look on his face. I wish I could explain why I was doing this. I wish I understood why I was doing this. Finley walked out of the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn't even spare me a glance. And then I was alone. Then there was no one. The sound of the TV buzzing throttled my ears.

My knees instinctively came up to my chest. Protectively. I was protecting myself. Always, I was shielding myself from everyone else. When the hotel room door opened, I didn't look up from where my eyes were still transfixed on my scar. I felt sick. Sicker than I had before. I had made him hate me, all because I couldn't handle the thought of hurting him. It seemed no matter what I did, it was always the wrong thing to do.

"Izzy? You okay?" Logan's voice reached my ears, a soft hand landing on my back. I still didn't look up. I could feel my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I bit my lip harder, to refrain from crying. My forehead dipped down further to rest on my knees. I felt like I was shattering. I always did, but right now the feeling was relentless. I was disassociating. Coming away from my mind, just looking for unattainable peace.

"Iz, look at me." It was Tyler now. I could tell by the deeper, fimer voice. I didn't move, but soon felt my chin being lifted. I could have fought against the touch but I had no energy to. "Buddy, what happened?" He asked gently.

"I can't." I whispered.

"What can't you do? Talk to me."

I can't talk, I can't breath, I can't live. There are so many things I can't do. I shrugged.

Tyler's eyes softened in what I thought may have been understanding. "You don't owe anyone an explanation okay?" He paused, putting a hand on my cheek. "Not me, not Logan, not Finn or anyone else. Don't think you have to tell us anything you're uncomfortable with."

This world is full of can'ts and don'ts. The bravest of us ignore those and do as they please. But people like that, often become victims of the world's wicked ways. It's people like me that conform to the can'ts and don'ts, and allow themselves to be the ghost of society. We're the ones who make it out as unscaved as possible.

But this world is not a kind place for the kindest of souls, and sooner or later, everyone gets a dose of reality.

A/N-New aesthetics are up! Please go check them out! I think they look really cool. My personal favorite has to be Tyler or Nolan's :)

This one is shorter, but it's really just a filler anyway. Izzy feels protective of Finley, but she's protecting him from herself and what she considers her demons. This wasn't a planned thing exactly, but the contrast of Izzy and Finley had developed to what I think you see more often in the context when an older sibling tries to protect the younger from the truth, but in this case Izzy is very much the more worldly of the two. This will develop further in future chapters, but I just wanted to explain my thought process a little.

So the next chapter Tyler will speak to Izzy about it all, and the family heads back to Maryland where more problems wait for our baby Izzy. Specifically her sister. I already know how that's going with that but I want to hear your theories :)

Thank you guys so much for almost 70 thousand views! This is so amazing. I work very hard on these chapters and sometimes it can take me as long as 3 days to complete one of them. I am so excited to see my hard work pay off. You all are amazing. I can't thank you enough for giving me such a platform on this app.