"You said someone... has to die. I pick... me..."

I pushed her away. Touching her had almost begun to burn as I stared in horror at what I had just done. I didn't want her dead. I never wanted her dead.

I wasn't even going to pull the trigger. I was bluffing. I wouldn't have killed Blake. When Amber moved, I was surprised, and as a gut reaction, I pulled the trigger. I wasn't even aiming.

"You idiot," I muttered, but I wasn't speaking to her or anyone around me. I was angry at myself. I turned and left. I couldn't show weakness. Not yet. Everything would be ruined.

I couldn't feel anything but that anger. I should have expected that. Amber had a heart of gold. She would never have allowed me to kill one of her boys. I didn't think things through. I shouldn't have made her think I would kill him in front of her. I should have had him taken away so the East and West would work together for a rescue mission.

I should have...been smarter.

It took me a while to realize where I was. The dining room. The table was clean, but there were decorations all over the room.

Anger swept through me again, and I blacked out for a few minutes. When I regained control of myself, everything was destroyed. Paintings were torn, China was shattered. The table was flipped. The chandelier was on the ground in pieces. Even the window was broken. My hands were bleeding, and...

I was crying. Tears were blurring my vision. Drying my face with my sleeve, I stormed out of the room. One of the women-a cook, I think-was standing outside of the door with wide eyes.

"Clean it." I snapped. I probably scared her to death, but I just kept walking until I reached my bedroom. I slammed the door behind me. As the adrenaline slowly faded, I stumbled to my bed and collapsed onto it.

"What have I done?" I whispered. I could see the look on her face. Why had I pushed her away? To hell with keeping up the act. I should have carried her to safety myself rather than let those dimwits do it.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I was grabbing my phone and calling her. I prayed to whatever god was out there, begging them to let her be alive and answer me. I called twice. Three times. Finally, I stopped and just sent a text.

And I stopped. I couldn't say more. Somebody might read the texts before she got to them. I couldn't say that I'm me. Hell, no one would believe it anyway, but....

"FUCK!" I shouted, turning over in my bed and punching the wall. I yelled every offensive word I knew. I was just so angry with myself for hurting Amber.

I heard my phone go off, and I grabbed for it. Amber. Amber.

Jack. I frowned, but I read the message anyway.

I felt like hitting something again, but I managed to stop myself. She wasn't dead. She was alive.

I stayed up that night. I stayed up until exhaustion took over me and I passed out. I didn't care about treating my bleeding hands.

~•~

It had been weeks. Weeks of personal torture. I completely broke down on her birthday, breaking even more stuff in the mansion. I nearly gave myself a concussion, too.

I had told my gang to go dark for a while. I couldn't let them see me like this. Weak. They would replace me, and everything would be ruined. Completely ruined.

I was sitting on my bed. My room was the only place I could be completely alone. I picked up my phone and opened my texts to Amber. I'd sent so many and called and called, praying she'd pick up.

I reread the last text I sent.

I think I was drunk when I sent it. I don't quite remember, but I remember what I was thinking when I said it. I do deserve to die. I can't live with myself knowing that Amber, my Amber is in a coma, and I may never get to tell her how I feel and who I really am.

If she doesn't live, I won't either.

I stood up, dropping my phone onto the bed and walking into my bathroom. I washed my face and quickly styled my hair before getting dressed and walking out.

I left Isabella and decided to leave my car and just walk. Where? I have no idea.

I walked for a long time. I didn't realize where I was until I passed her house. I knew the boys weren't keeping her there. But it was her house.

I shook my head to clear it and kept walking into town. As I passed one shop, the unmistakable smell of paint overwhelmed me, and I froze.

Paint. Amber. She loved to paint.

I felt tears prick at my eyes as I tried not to lose it and bawl my eyes out in front of everyone around me.

Move. Move. I had to move. I kept walking, disappearing into another store and making my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in one of the stalls, not caring how gross it was because I just didn't want anyone to see me.

I stopped myself from hitting any of the walls even though I wanted to. I needed to take my anger and upset out on something.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I took in a deep breath and walked back out of the stall, washing my face before leaving the bathroom and the store, avoiding the paint shop like the plague.

I went the long way home. I didn't want to risk passing more paint shops or anything that reminded me of her. Once I reached home, I went back to my bedroom and picked up my phone.

Jack sent me daily updates on Amber. They always said the same thing: Sleeping.

I read the newest message that he had sent while I was gone, hoping it might be different.

It wasn't.

I looked at my messages with Amber. I texted her about the paint store. I told her that I had a favorite color now. I never had a favorite before.

Gold. Not a sparkly, shimmery gold. Amber was gold, and I couldn't live without it. Without her.

Laying back on my bed, I closed my eyes. As always, I relived the moments when I shot her.

I saw the look in her eyes again.

I heard her speak again.

I felt her blood on my hands again.

I pushed her away again.

I shouldn't have pushed her away. I should have held her in my arms and carried her to my gang's doctors. Why hadn't I?

Because I was an idiot.

I opened my eyes with a jolt. I blinked a few times and frowned, glancing over at my clock. I'd fallen asleep and slept through the night.

I sat up and tried to just go about my day.

~•~

I woke up. I don't always dream, but last night I did. I remembered the first time I saw her.

She was so innocent and beautiful.

I picked up my phone and I told her the story. It wasn't a story, really. But I wanted her to know.

As I typed, I slowly realized what had happened since the first time I saw her. I loved her.

And I told her so. Texting her how I feel wasn't my best idea, but I didn't know if I would ever get the chance to tell her. Even if I did get the chance, she hated me.

The world doesn't deserve her. I don't deserve her. Those...boys don't deserve her.

I set my phone down and sat up slowly. I was in love with the golden girl, and I could never truly call her mine.

~•~

The last month of waiting, I tried to keep myself busy. I tried to keep my gang running properly, but we were still pretty much in the shadows.

I didn't celebrate Christmas. What was there to be happy about? Amber was still in a coma.

I never got why it was so special anyway.

One day, I woke up to a bit of snow on the ground. It was quiet, as usual, but for some reason I felt like today was going to be better.

Immediately, I pushed the feeling away. If Amber was still in a coma, no day would ever be better. If she was dead...I would be dead, too.

I quickly got dressed and grabbed my phone, walking to my office.

My phone went off. I assumed it was someone from my inner gang, informing me of what was currently happening.

I stopped dead in my tracks. My eyes nearly popped out of my head, and I felt my heart beating faster. She wasn't dead.

She was alive.

My Amber was alive.

I went back to my room to compose myself. I needed to see her. As soon as possible. I grabbed my phone and texted Owen.

~•~

They showed up. Amber was there.

There was something different. She wasn't the same, and even as I kept up my act, my heart broke.

This wasn't my Amber.