A/N: Finally managed to get a multi-chaptered Jori fanfiction completed! Thank you all so much again for your never ending support and understanding. I really hope you enjoy it and find it was worth the (extremely long) wait. Reviews and feedback would be absolutely wonderful!

/JADE/

"Jade. Say something."

I clench my teeth so hard together that my jaw starts to ache, my jacket still hanging loosely between my fingertips. I shouldn't have bothered bringing it with me because it was stupidly hot in Beck's trailer tonight. The uncomfortable, thick and heavy heat which drags your mind into a sluggish stupor. That kind of suffocating temperature which I hated. I shift my bag strap on my shoulder. The fabric of my thin black shirt was clinging to my skin with the humidity. I don't know what else to do with my other hand so it idly toys with my shirt button, my fingers plucking at the loose stitches that held it together as the silence stretches on between us.

Behind Beck, I can see the RV rules board and I have to bite down on my tongue.

Remember that you love Jade.

He had scrawled that message exactly one week ago. He had insisted on writing it down. At the time, I had mistakenly thought it had been sweet of him, but now the bitter, ironic meaning behind the line made bile crawl up my throat. He had to constantly remember that he loved me. He had to remind himself to hold my hand, tell me how much I meant to him, and he had to write it down on his stupid board so he didn't forget - practically forcing it into some kind of mantra or command.

I study the words again, watching them merge in front of my eyes.

Remember that you have to love Jade.

Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I was fabricating something that wasn't there, but making him the enemy was definitely less painful than facing the alternative.

On the shelf, I catch a glimpse of a framed picture. It was a candid snap of us at the last Hollywood Arts party last year, pretty much the only one I allowed Beck to keep on public display. My stomach churns sharply and the overwhelming emotions surge upwards, suddenly threatening to pull me apart from the inside out until I screamed.

The button snaps off in my fingers.

We were poised in the frame, frozen in time with his lips crushed against my own. And I would always remember that particular kiss, the desperation, the fire that lit up his deep brown eyes.

It made me sick to think just how long that fire had been extinguished.

"You didn't open the door." My voice is dry and scratchy, as if someone had reached down and scrubbed sandpaper over my larynx.

I look back at the picture again. His gentle smile had turned into a mocking leer while he held me in his arms.

My fingers twitch.

I want to reach out and smash the glass, shatter the image because it had all been for nothing. He had been trying to get through to me, to break down my walls, without even knowing he already had. He was the only one who I had opened up to, the only one who I had actually allowed in. I had trusted Beck to keep me safe. I stupidly believed we could coexist within the confines of my stone fortress but instead, he decided to just leave in the night and burn down the drawbridge as he went. He kept me trapped inside, only willing to offer up weak excuses from across the burning wreckage.

Beck exhales, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't open the door because... I can't stand us fighting all the time."

"Oh, you can't stand the fighting." I scoff. I want my voice to be sharp and cold. I want it to hold all of the resentment, the pain and betrayal that was boiling inside of me, instead of the high pitched whine which spilled from my lips. "You don't have to fucking sugarcoat it. We're over. Okay? I get it!"

His eyebrows crease with concern and I turn away so he can't see the tears start to brim behind my eyes. I don't know why I bothered. He knew my anger had a direct link to my tear ducts. He knew me better than anyone, and he didn't even realize it.

My pulse is roaring in my ears, the crushing heat of his metal prison was becoming too much to bear. I was slowly being roasted alive. There was a warmth on my cheeks as color rushed to the surface of my pale skin, but whether it was from the heat or anger, I didn't know.

I didn't care.

A cup of coffee sits on the bedside table, stone cold and long since forgotten after I had started shouting. His red plaid shirt is draped over the chair and I could see my scissors on the table. It was all so typically laid out, like I hadn't just driven to my boyfriend's RV to confront him about not opening Tori's stupid door tonight. I had counted and waited but the door never opened. I was fully expecting Beck to be beside me in a matter of seconds, but he had stayed on the other side of the door, essentially driving a knife into my heart without even physically touching me.

I wanted to believe this was an awful dream, a twisted collection of nightmares which usually plagued my sleep. Any minute now I'd wake up, trembling in his arms and he would be quick to reassure me. He would say that he wasn't leaving me before pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. But his eyes remained serious, and with each passing second I felt myself sink lower and lower.

"I'm not saying it's over, Jade. I still love you." He avoids my eyes and I knew he was lying, working his acting charms like a dusting of icing sugar. Those same charms he had used to win me - were now being used to break me. It made sense really, to finish with me using sweet talk, that way he couldn't be associated as the bad guy. He could pin it all down to me. He was a skilled enough performer to know that by using his charisma, by inserting a compromise, it would cushion the blow for him. A kiss with a fist and I couldn't say anything.

"You know anyone would be lucky to have you-"

"Oh. Will you quit feeding me lines from some fucking script and talk to me?" My voice is strained, vocal chords burning with fury. I can see myself doing it. I could snatch up the picture frame and bring it down on his pretty face, imagining the glass shattering everywhere with so much blood staining the floor, getting matted in his perfect hair. It's a satisfying image, but my hand stays down by my side. "Isn't it bad enough that you broke up with me through a door? Now you're trying to lie to me too? Are you doing this on purpose?"

Beck takes a step back and raises his hands in surrender. Once things got too hard or too difficult with us, he would retreat and leave me to fend for myself. He always figured that was what I wanted; maybe he didn't know me as well as I thought.

I want to kiss him. I want to kill him. I want to wrap my hands around his neck and kiss him so hard that he couldn't breathe and it leaves bruises. I want my lips to erase whatever doubts he has ever had about us. Make him take back his words, make him choke on them. Instead, I shrug on my jacket and push past him.

"Wait, Jade? Where are you going? It's almost two in the morning. Let me drive you home." I almost throw my head back and laugh loudly, wishing I could laugh long and hard until my throat was raw and sore with masking over the hurt. He was still pretending to care, as if casually throwing years of memories away still warranted some kind of friendship. I continue to ignore him and keep gathering my things together, shoving anything I could reach into my bag. My tears make my vision messy but I am determined as Hell to get out of here with at least a shred of dignity still intact.

He had taken everything else.

"Jade. Please." Beck blocks the exit with desperation. "You're not in the right state to drive. I want to make sure you get home safely."

This time, I don't stop the laugh.

"Why should you care what happens to me?" Hands that once held his with tenderness and love, now push him aside. I have to override the natural instinct to wrap my arms around him, forcing myself forward. Every fiber inside of me is screaming to turn around and go back. Go straight back into his arms and let him envelop me in that familiarity I had grown so accustomed to. But I don't. I can't. Because the Beck I knew was gone, leaving nothing behind save for his fake apologies and some memories in a picture frame.

It was too late now anyway.

My shoulder shoves open the door and right away my skin feels the cold chill cut underneath my jacket. I keep going, right past my car. I can hear him shouting something else but his words get whipped away by the wind. I don't stop. I refuse to even look back until my tears made the lines on the road a blurred mess.

Even when my legs start to ache and cramp, I keep moving. No longer caring or bothering to pay any attention to where I was walking. My brain has already started cycling through a million cruel scenarios, all of them with more desirable outcomes than this. Beck taking me in his arms. Beck running after me and apologizing, genuinely apologizing. Beck realizing what an idiot he was. Beck... Beck. I kick at a stone viciously, listening to it skitter across the road and drop into a storm drain. Now that I was left alone with my thoughts, they came flooding in to torture me, pick at me like vultures because he wasn't around to hold them at bay. The tears had dried up for now, replaced with a dull gnawing pain in my gut, as if someone was gradually sawing away at my intestines but I still hadn't come out under from the anesthesia.

Most of the shops we're all closed down for the night and I accidentally catch a glimpse of myself in one of the windows: puffy red eyes, blotchy cheeks marked with dried tear stains and messed up hair. I know I should be at home. I should be curled up in bed and sobbing my heart out over his old shirt or a teddy bear, like all normal teenage girls do after a break up. But I felt reckless. I wanted to do something stupid. Maybe wind up in the hospital struggling on a drip in critical condition because it would fucking teach him for leaving me-

"Hey pretty thing. Where do you think you're goin'?" I halt in the middle of the street, my fingers automatically twitching for my scissors. I had left them behind.

Well shit.

The man swaggers closer, a boldness brought on by the stench of alcohol on his breath. I draw back, shoving the hood up on my jacket to disappear, but Jack Daniels isn't finished. "Aww don't be like tha' darlin'. We're just some guys looking for some fun. Why else would you be down here and out so late, huh?" He continues to slur and his friends suddenly appear from the shadows, snickering behind him.

"Oh looks like we got ourselves a shy one here boys. It's okay, lost little baby, we'll take you back home." Another voice joins in with the growing crowd and I struggle not to panic. Running would only encourage them and I wasn't even sure if I could trust my legs to function properly right now. They'd outrun me anyway.

"Just back off alright? I'm not in the mood!" I snarl and attempt to turn away only to run smack bang into one of the tallest guys of the trio, all three of the men slowly, and I soon realized with a horrible feeling, methodically herding me into a corner of the alleyway.

He leers down at me through a set of greasy bangs and I take a step back, feeling my phone shift around in my pocket. Somewhere, in the back of mind I knew the correct reaction involved pulling my phone out and threatening to call the police, but my arms remain locked rigid at my sides. My mouth runs dry at the disgusting intentions of these sleazeballs. Their eyes were getting darker, growing hungrier in the moonlight.

"You look upset, Princess. Why don't you take a drink?" Jack Daniels holds out a bottle of the whiskey, the liquid sloshing around behind the dark glass. "It'll cheer you up and then we can all go back to my place." I attempt to direct my notorious death glare at him. I should scream, throw something, kick the nearest guy where it hurts! But I can't. I'm paralyzed or in shock, and my brain refuses to let me move.

"Hey, sweetheart." The leader gets up close and I almost gag at his foul breath. "When a man offers you a drink, the polite thing to do is take it. You're not a bad girl are you?" I curl my fists, finally getting my synapses to make the all important connections and throw a punch in his direction. He grabs my wrist with a snarl, other hands soon joining in to start groping at me. I open my mouth but I can't scream. I can't make a sound. The rough, sweaty palms of a stranger run along my skin to draw out shudders. Hands that didn't belong to Beck. I'm shutting down. My mouth is useless, my limbs are frozen, and I shrink against the grimy brick only able to use my eyes to silently beg them not to do anything.