Hey readers! Yes, I know, I haven't updated in forever. I promise, I'll get better at that LOL. Maybe I was just building the suspense . . . or maybe I just had no idea what to write. Yep, I think that one's it.

So. I was reading over my reviews (I got 9!!!) and I realized something: you all either want Fang to die, or Lissa killed. So, make up your mind by doing my poll?

As you may have noticed, I changed my username to JustinBaberchic. So make sure to remember that's my new name.

I have FINALLY figured out what to write next, so I hope it meets your expectations!

Lissa POV

I blink my eyes open as my iHome's alarm goes off. 8:15.

I'm curled in a ball at the far edge of my bed that's pressed against the wall. My cheek is squished against the warm plaster.

Rolling over, I stretch my arms out wide. The knuckles of my left hand smack against a nose. Without looking over, I make my hand travel down to a neck, then a bare chest, down to the soft material of a pair of Bermuda shorts. Finally sitting up, I remember everything. I grin at Nick's soft, sleeping face.

Getting up softly, I maneuver into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I turn away to dig around in my bathroom cabinets. My makeup had rubbed off all over my eyelids and cheeks. I keep looking through my loads of crap in my under-the-sink cabinet. My breath is caught in my throat when my fingertips brush against cold metal.

Nick will probably never know that if he hadn't ventured into my room last night, I would've committed suicide. I kind of figured that what's the use to live when everything was a lie? Nicky didn't love me (atleast, that's what I thought until last night) and I was mentally lost. Why was I here? What was I doing? I was trapped in a stranger's house for over a month, wondering what the heck I should do.

For a long time, I just watched sappy movies, like "The Notebook", in the gloriously HUGE TV room. But then, I truly noticed how different everything was around me. Miss. Martinez seemed like a vacant body, Nick had changed his whole appearance, and the other kids were getting skinnier and their faces started to shape around their cheek bones.

I decided to change myself after I saw all this. My mom had started to call every day, asking about the wedding that would never happen. She got more and more frustrated every time I said, "No, Mom, the wedding hasn't happened yet," or, "No, I have no idea what kind of flowers will be put in the vases."

After a while, I moved out of the TV room and rolled by coach suitcases into this guestroom. At first, it was bland, but I moved some furniture around to create the place I wanted. Then I got to the real work.

One of my suitcases was used only for pictures of me and Nick. They were photos we took ourselves, some taken by my parents before the school dance, and the rest were taken by strangers. One was at the carnival, where we asked another couple to take a picture with my digital camera of me and Nick in front of the ferris wheel. That one was my favorite.

Starting every morning at 8:15, I shifted through every single picture, trying to find one that didn't show us so happy or cheerful. I was trying to prove to myself that we were never good together, but I knew we were. And I still know that we're meant to be.

Anyways, I created billions of collages of the two of us, crying with every piece of tape I stuck on and with each *snip* of the scissors. Not long after, I found a small gun in the silverware drawer in the Martinez's kitchen. An orange sticky note was stuck on that read, "Emergencies Only," but I figured that no one needed it.

Shaking my head of the memories, I shoved the pistol to the farthest corner of my cabinet and snatched my make up remover. As I cleaned every part of my face, I heard Nick rustle around on my stiff bed. Smiling to myself, I put down my hair straightener I had been using and poofed up my long locks. I spun once out of the bathroom.

"Good morning," I said softly. "Hungry at all?"

Nick rubbed his eyes, stood, and stretched, practically bending all the way over. He flashed a bright smile, something he hadn't done since he started changing, making me shiver. He was so hot.

"Yeah," Nick answered. "Let's go down to the kitchen. I bet Ig . . . one of my brothers already made his famous banana nut pancakes."

I grabbed his wrist to stop him as he walked towards the door. "I thought you said that the other kids weren't your siblings," I questioned. "Didn't you tell me you guys wanted to be related?"

Something flashed across Nick's face that looked like pain. He pressed the palms of his hands against his forehead. He suddenly looked like a lonely, sad, depressed boy, desperate for his happiness back. He looked like every other kid roaming around these two houses.

"It's just . . . I mean . . ." he mumbled. "It's just . . . a really long story, okay?!"

I stepped back from him. He's never had an outburst like this.

"Beside, aren't we gonna eat?"

I smirked. "Actually, yes, I have some cold pizza stashed away in my bureau."

I padded over the hardwood floors, covered in scratches and marker smudges from my many collage days, and found one of my many boxes of Domino pizza. I had ordered a new box of a new flavor whatever night I got hungry. I got pepperoni the first night I moved into the guest room, but got bored, so I ordered a variety of pizzas each night. From sausage and egg to super-spicy toppings, I had it.

Pulling a random box, I handed a slice to Nick, and then took my own. We clinked the tips together with a giggle and dug in.

"Mmmmm," Nick sighed. "Pineapple and maraschino cherries make an amazing combination!"

I nodded my head in agreement and dragged him to my bed. We sat down together, leaning against one another.

Wiping away the grease from my lips, I stared at Nick's face and cocked my head.

"Hey," I said. "I was just wondering, but . . . what made you come up here last night?"

He stuffed the pizza crust in his mouth and shook away the crumbs. "Everything was real hectic downstairs, what with . . . yeah, so, I just got uncomfortable."

I scrunched up my eyebrows. "Why don't you talk about Max? You always avoid anything about her, like her name, or anything she liked. It's like she never existed to you."

"She might as well have never been born," he muttered under his breath and placed his head in his hands. Placing a hand on his knee, I feel a soft tear dribble onto my skin. I yanked my hand away.

Finally, it dawned on me.

Jumping up, I screamed, "You're madly in love with her! Even though that's true, you still decided to just strut up here and . . ."

"STOP!" Nick yelled back. "I know what I did! But I was lonely, and sad, and I just needed some assistance!"

"By what, vacuuming my tonsils?" I shrieked.

"UGH!" he threw his hands up in the air. "Lissa, I was never in love with you! Ever! You have this . . . aura about you, and it makes me feel better. The only reason I stayed around you was because you make me feel better."

My jaw drops. I was wrong. Narrowing my eyes, my vision blurred with tears, I snatch a picture frame with that photo of us at the carnival. I throw it as hard as I can at my collages.

With fire in his eyes, Nick slams my bedroom door behind him. He had swept out of my room so fast, I barely noticed the lanes of salty water slipping down his cheeks.

Angel POV

I bolt up in bed, sweat dripping down my face. Gasping for air, I tumble out of bed and crawl into a corner. It was precisely 9:03 in the morning, and I was having another brain wash.

These brain washes aren't exactly what you think. I just have flashes of a million memories dash through my brain, along with other things I've heard in people's heads. The School, the Flock, and other things make me dizzy until I collapse over.

Finally, after a few grueling minutes, I stand up and search for Max's thoughts. I haven't stopped looking for them since she left 42 days ago. Finally, I got something.

Angel, Angel, I can't get out of this place! Every time I try to sneak out of the house, the old lady stares into my eyes and makes me drowsy all over again. Then she gives me the tea and I fall asleep!

Max, yeah, I know, Nudge broke into another Itex website and found out a lot of stuff.

Like what?

Putting the thoughts on hold, I find my print-outs from the Itex website, wedged between my floorboards.

Okay, Max, so this old lady is actually only disguised that way. She's Europe's best Itex spy, and her hypnotizing eyes are only ONE of her powers.

Powers?

Long story. Stay safe!

Rubbing my temples from my now-natural headaches, I pull of my sweats and yank on my favorite pair of jean shorts. I pair that with a green v-neck. Slipping on some kitten-heels, I stomp downstairs and across the lawn to the main house.

Walking right in, I made my way to the kitchen and find the leftover bacon and toast Iggy made for breakfast. Munching on as much as I could, I realize how quiet it is. With a quizzical look on my face, I wander into the living room.

Nudge, Iggy, Gazzy, Ella, and "mom" sit dismally on the sofa and loveseat. They all stare at the ground, their backs hunched over.

"Um . . . what happened exactly?" I ask, putting a hand on my hip.

Looking up at me sadly, Ella whispers, "Fang stormed down the stairs and left. He went after Max. By himself."

I faint. My last thought is: He's gonna get killed.

So, how was it? Huh? HUH? HUH???!!!! I am dead serious when I say that I need you to comment and do my poll. Thanks!

JBc!