DISCLAIMER: I do not own TDI/A/WT, or the line, Lose your clothes and show your scars. That's who you are. is not mine, but The Script's song Exit Wounds. It's a brilliant song.

A/N: Umm...ello, love(s)...yeah...I have an excuse! I got into trouble over summer vacation...really huge trouble. So basically, I didn't get meh laptop back until I got meh laptop back because of something happening...so...yeah...imma try to update more nao? Review?

AIR'S POV

"What are you afraid of," he whispers, lightly brushing her cheek with his fingers to brush away the dark hair.

She flinches, bringing her arms tight around her thin frame.

"You," she whispers, ebony eyes burning into his jade ones.

The words hit him worse than a ton of bricks. His lungs seem unable top get enough air, while his heart feels like a knife is being stabbed into it. He has a job to do, though.

"W-Why?" he manages to choke out from someone within his parched throat, false disbelief coating the words.

"You know why," she keeps eyes contact, which is instantly broken by him.

He fingers the pocket knife in his baggy black pants and decides not to kill her right now, but to wait until he regains some trust. Just a few more hours, he tells himself, knowing how gullible she is when it comes to him.

"I told you I'm sorry, baby. What more do you want?" he says, trying to keep from rolling his eyes at her.

"Proof, and don't baby me," she says, spite dripping off the nickname he used.

He pulls out an alcoholic drink from the fridge and she raises an eyebrow at this.

"I thought you stopped drinking," she comments, although it sounds more like a question.

"Nope, I'm just more in control," he replies, lying through his teeth.

"Ummm...okay?" she replies, skepticism leaking into her voice.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm fine, you'll be fine, okay?" his voice has artificial sweetness in it, but she barely notices.

She looks skeptical, but nods anyway, eventually relaxing in the couch. Both were content with the rare silence that graced the living room, and decided not to say anything.

GWEN'S POV

"You know I'm sorry, right?" Trent suddenly blurts out, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Yeah..." I trail off, confused by his sudden choice of words.

"So why don't we try to reconcile..." he smirks, and grasps my thigh in a manner I think was supposed to be erotic, but was more aggressive than anything else.

I look at him in disgust for a second, before I snap out of it, knowing it's just the beer that's making him act like this.

"I think you've had too much, Trent. Come on, give me your drink," he lets go of the drink surprisingly easily, and he still looks at me in the same way in the dim lighting of our apartment.

A sudden rush of horror runs through me when I take the drink from his hands, and realize it's still completely full, ergo a sip or two.

"Lose your clothes and show your scars. That's who you are," his voice breaks me out of my terrified reverie and I can't that this is actually who he is.

"Never. These scars are because of you; that isn't me," my voice sounds faint to my own ears, but I just know he's heard it.

"Come on, baby," his grasp on my thigh becomes painful, and I wrench my thigh from his demanding hand.

I run down the hallway, ignoring his enraged yelling of my name and find the bathroom. I fumble with the doorknob for a couple seconds, allowing him to nearly catch up, but I close the door, quickly, making sure to lock the door.

"Open this door right now, Gwen!" Trent shouts, and I can feel hyperventilation setting in, becoming a companion with my adrenaline-infested system.

"NO!" I shout back at him, and notice there's no other escape out of the bathroom besides the door I came in.

Great decision, a sarcastic voice congratulates me in the back of my head, somehow managing to be heard above Trent's demanding shouts.

DUNCAN'S POV

I get in my car, somehow feeling a sense of dread that something's wrong and drive as fast to the hospital as physics could allow. When I get there, I stroll in, seemingly without a care in the world.

"Hey," I shout to a passing nurse, not wanting to deal with Courtney at the reception desk right now.

"What?" she says in an irritated manner, but I ignore it.

"Where's Gwen?" I ask, mocking her annoyed voice.

"I don't know, ask the reception desk. If you excuse me, I have a patient to take care of now," her voice is rushed now, and she nearly runs away from me.

"Thanks so much for helping," I shout sarcastically at her back.

I walk up to what may possibly be my death sentence and take a breath before taking the last step. I didn't want to explode while I was looking for Gwen.

"Hey, can you help me?" I ask Courtney as kindly as I could. Still, some sarcasm leaked into my voice.

"I don't know, can I?" she asks bitterly, her hazel eyes glaring at me. I noticed her blonde highlights had the roots showing for about 3 inches away from her scalp when she looked up at me.

"Listen, I don't wanna play games. Is Gwen still checked in?" I glared at her, as she seemed to take her time looking into the computer.

"No, she seems to be home with a Trent. Why?" she yells the last question at my back, seeing as I was running out of the hospital as fast as I could. Now I was thinking of every single thing that could be happening right now, while mentally cursing myself for fighting with her.

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