i kind of like the way this chapter turned out. let me know what you think. probably one more chapter..maybe two. who knows!

disclaimer: i don't own degrassi. OMG, right?

"Wait," Fitz said, causing my curiosity to be stunned to a halt. "If you've been watching me, then don't you think I should know something about you then?"

"I guess so," I admitted, my voice shaking. "But there's not really much to tell."

Fitz sat there for a second, his mind pondering the possibilities. "Well, I guess you could tell me some things about yourself when you were alive. Or how you died or something." He suggested.

My eyes locked to the ground while I poked the side of my mouth with my tongue. These two things were particularly touchy subjects for me to talk about with a complete stranger.

"Well," I began. "When-" Then, I suddenly began to choke on my own words, unable to cough them out.

Fitz gave me a peculiar look as if I had three heads. "Or not?" He said. I blushed and my mind traveled back to the night I died.

"Eli," I said attempting to hold back tears while stroking my stomach tenderly. My baby bump was seemingly growing by the day, and was now slightly noticeable. "We can not give this baby up for adoption."

His face reddened into a confused rage. "Julia, what the fuck are you talking about? You're barely fifteen. I know you're not ready to be a mom, and I'm certainly nowhere near ready to be a father." He gripped the steering wheel of the parked hearse tightly. We both stared out of the front window, watching the rain shower down furiously against the pavement.

"But Eli," I protested. "I already am a mother. And you're already a father too. You just don't understand that yet."

Eli turned his head to shoot a repulsed look at me. "As much as I wish we could, we can't afford this baby. So we are going to give it to someone who can." He stated as if the decision was final.

My hands retreated from my stomach and turned into two tightly clenched fists. The tears in my eyes dried, causing my eyes to transform into two, bone-chilling daggers. I stared Eli straight in the face, and I could tell from his facial expression that he was somewhat frightened. This newfound reaction to my new persona excited me, so I took it to the next level and made the worst mistake of my life; I got out of the car.

The second the bottom of my converse shoe hit the cold, wet pavement, I knew that I shouldn't have been there. The wind slapped my face violently and the wind wrestled with my hair fiercely. It was the night of April 22, and a cold night it was. I was at a bold state of discomfort, and my subconscious was constantly saying, "Get back in the car, Julia!"

However, I blatantly ignored the voice and looked back in the car. Eli was rapidly motioning me to get back in the car. I decided to ignore him as well, holding my arms across my chest in an attempt to gain warmth. I knew that there would be absolutely no way for me to make it back home on foot in this weather. My eyes scanned the empty parking lot quickly in a desperate attempt for some form of transportation. A smile approached my face when I soon discovered a blue, abandoned bicycle leaned up against the building of the parking lot. I looked around for the possible owner. There was no one in sight. I quickly sprinted to the bicycle, sitting upon it and shivering. I began to pedal, which only intensified the coldness of my temperature. As I rode out of the parking lot and into the road, I began to lose feeling in my fingers.

Just then, I heard the horn of Eli's hearse honking. I looked behind me at the car. I could tell by the look of Eli's face that he was horrified I leaving. Poor Eli, I thought sarcastically. Things are just so hard for him. Steady home life, good grades, caring parents. I shot him a luck of disgust, while his horrified expression grew and his mouth opened. He started to point urgently to the location behind me. What is he doing? I wondered.

When I turned my head to see what Eli was pointing at, I used my sight for the last time in my life. There right in front of me was a rusting, red truck zooming towards me. Inside the truck was a person. I could barely make out the face, but I knew for a fact it was a man. That man was the most severely atrocious excuse for a human being I have ever laid eyes on. That man was a man whom if I ever came face to face with again, I would make him pay. I have never hated anyone in my entire life-not even my step-mom-but I loathed this man. This man was the man who murdered me.

Suddenly, I felt a wave of pain brush over my entire body and my stomach began to burn so hotly that Satan would boil. I screamed. Then, everything went black.

"So, I guess if you really want me to tell you why I deserve this, I will." Fitz stated. My mood picked up and my ears perked.

"Okay." I said.

"I used to be a good student. I wasn't exactly honor roll material, but I did the best I could. I got C's and mostly B's," He began. "But then my mom met her new boyfriend.

His name is Chris and she's still with him, but I have no fucking clue why. He's a lazy-ass prick who spends all my mom's money on beer but won't get a job for himself, so I let him know. Obviously he didn't like me and he didn't really try to keep that from me. He insulted me every single day. He made me feel, like, worthless." Fitz said. I felt compassion for Fitz. I could surely relate.

"So then came my birthday," He started again. "My mom kept telling me that she was always telling him to get me a really good present 'cause of the way he treated me. She said that he might even be nice to me for my birthday." He gulped and paused for a second. "Do you want to know what he got me?"

"Yes."

"He didn't get me shit. He even called me a fag for being in a good mood.

So then I got pissed. And when I get pissed, I get drunk. So I took some of his beers, drank them, and took his red, beat-up truck out for a spin."

I froze. He took the keys to a red, beat-up truck?

~'~

"Bringing a knife to a school dance doesn't make you a maniac, Mr. Fitzgerald. Using it does. But you didn't use it, did you?" Ms. Dawes said.

"No," Fitz said through his teeth. "But I might as well have."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know me. You don't know what I've done."

~'~

"I feel bad for him," Fitz said.

"Why?"

"He has to live with the fact that he might have killed someone," Fitz said. "That must be the worst feeling in the world."

~'~

"Then-" He attempted to finish his story, only to be cut off from his sobs. Tears slipped down his face.

My mind flashed back to the night of my death. The red truck zooming towards me. The man inside.

"Fitz," I began, nervously. "When is your birthday?"

He paused. "April 22."

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