Author's Note: Holy crap! I am so sorry! It's been five months since my last update! For the record, though, I lost all of my data when my idiot older brother dropped my laptop and broke it. My parents made me save up for it and I finally got enough money last week and ordered this as fast as I could. So then I had to remember what the heck I was writing. I'm pretty sure this is not how it originally ended, but oh well. It's still pretty good.

Okay, this is the last chapter. I know, some of you are like, "What? You made us wait for the last stinkin' chapter?" but don't worry. I'm starting another story, and I'll try to update as fast as possible.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I still don't own Big Time Rush. *Le sigh*

Carlos opened his eyes, sighing. He didn't want to be awake yet. He wanted to go back to sleep and just forget about everything that happened. He didn't want to live in reality anymore. Reality hurt.

He glanced at the clock to see it was three o'clock in the morning. He'd slept an hour more than he had in the past week. That was an improvement.

Across the room, he could see Logan sleeping soundly. He sighed again and sat up straight, then got up to go to the bathroom.

When he started to walk back to his bedroom, he could hear low voices in the living room. His parents had been staying with them since they'd arrived, and they'd flown Carlos' younger siblings out. He knew it was his dad speaking and paused to listen to the conversation.

"...I don't know what's wrong with him," Officer Garcia sounded upset. "He hasn't spoken in weeks. It's like we're not even here."

"He's probably just upset that he doesn't remember what happened to him," Mrs. Knight tried to reassure him.

"Carlos is always so talkative and energetic," Mrs. Garcia also sounded upset. Carlos felt a pang of guilt in his heart. He hadn't meant to make everyone so upset. It was like he couldn't control it.

Although no one was aware of it, Carlos was still cutting. He wore short sleeves shirts, so they thought he was safe, but they didn't know that Carlos cut his hips, thighs, and his upper arms. He cut places they couldn't see, so they wouldn't think anything was wrong. As for not talking, Carlos just didn't see the point in talking. Or singing for that matter. Sure, his friends loved to sing, and once upon a time, he had, too, but he no longer cared for it. He just didn't care anymore. He still thought about suicide, as well. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him anymore, and he knew he needed help, but he had a hard time asking for it.

You're weak, a voice in his head said. You're weak, and your friends don't care about you. Why wouldn't they have seen how broken you are if they cared? What would they care about a little failure like you? You failed at killing yourself, and you fail at everything else.

Carlos shook his head, covering his ears with his hands. He wanted this voice to go away. It'd been visiting him since he'd gotten out of the hospital, haunting him. It made him realize his deepest fears, and he couldn't ignore it. He just wanted things to go back to normal. He didn't want to hurt himself. He didn't want to die.

Did he?

Author's Note: Yeah, kind of a lame ending. I'm going to write a sequel to this one and start another story, too. The sequel will be Carlos-centric, the other story will be Kendall-centric. I'll probably put up the sequel first, since I have more ideas for that one. I'm thinking about changing the idea for Kendall's story, since I had a brilliant idea the other day when I FINALLY got this laptop.

Thanks for sticking with this story to the end. My new stories will be up soon! Don't forget to look for one-shots, too!

Thanks again,

-Tori