IT NEVER ENDS. /DAVID.

[AMANDA JANE STEVENS]

The wind made the tears that streamed down her face feel like ice, and they hurt as she ran. Amanda was fairly sure that she was never going to forget what she saw. Deep inside she knew who that girl had been on top of, and her fears had been confirmed with the sounds of David's grunts. She wiped away the tears that stung her face. They hadn't even been together for very long, was she really that undesirable? Was she honestly a disgusting person? Maybe that's why no one at her old schools liked her very much.

Amanda halted running so that she could catch her breath. She really wanted to just go home and live with her parents until she died. Maybe it wasn't too late to take up something like Dungeons and Dragons and just whatever. Alex would be disappointed. Her breath was heavy and she just didn't feel happy at all. She'd been sick a lot recently too, which sucked a lot more than anyone would ever know. Everything seemed to be working against her these days.

Her hands were shaking as she pushed open the public restroom door and sniffled. The razor that she tended to keep on her person almost always felt heavy in its hiding place. She needed to face the fact that no one would ever like her. Amanda didn't even know why he'd liked her in the first place. More tears fell down her pale face, her fists bawled into fists as she wiped them again. She felt sick again, which was strange since she'd already had her date with the toilet. Amanda swallowed roughly and bit her lip as she bent down to the hiding spot. Her fingers felt around the inside lip of her boot for the razor. Amanda bit her lip harder as she pulled it out, she was almost free.

The tiny girl stood up and checked the stalls. As far as she knew no one bothered to use these restrooms. She couldn't even tell you which bathrooms she'd wandered into, although the urinals probably would have been a hint had she been calm. Her hands, still shaking, pulled up her hoodie and shirt over her head slowly and rested it on the sink. Amanda's fingers gripped the tiny metal object and drew it across her stomach gently, on top of all the scars and scabs.

Again and again the metal object went over and over her upper stomach. She could feel the blood coating her fingers and the blade became slippery. Amanda could feel herself getting light headed, she knew she was getting into dangerous water. She could feel the blood running cold down her lower stomach. Amanda was vaguely aware of the drops that fell upon the cement floor. Over and over still, she felt like it was becoming dangerous. She swallowed roughly and pressed her back against the brick wall gently. Only in the back of her mind was she aware of her body sliding down the wall into a pool of her own blood. The world was becoming foggy, realizing silently that she might have taken this too far. The blade dropped from her fingers into the floor and she sighed, blinking slowly.

[JONATHAN NATHANIEL CLARK]

<sub>Jonathan's mind was full of daydreams. The man navigated the pathways of the concert grounds in a bit of a daze. His ears were swimming with lyrics. The man's sneakers scuffed audibly on the cement sidewalk, but none were present to hear.

It was the right time of day for cooling off. They'd been the first on the bill for the day, and the set had been long. He'd stayed for an hour at meet-and-greet and then helped with merch and now -- now -- it was time to cool off. He'd stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt and let his head fall to an angle that let him keep an eye on the gray clouds.

They'd been threatening rain for the last ten minutes. He regarded them suspiciously, brows raised as if to inquire 'do you dare?'

Yes. Yes they did.

The water came down on him, first only two or three at a time, but then in droves. The sky opened up and spat down in disdain on the musician. Jon pulled his hood up over the fit of red-brown curls that were his hair, ducking his head forward and darting onwards down the path. The bus was a fifteen minute jog in the opposite direction; not preferable for the situation. Instead, he turned the toes of his shoes in the direction of the rest-rooms, twenty feet away.

Through the door to the men's room he shoved, droplets and wet tracks following his progress across the tile floor. Jon tossed his hood off, shaking what water he could from his body.

What he noted at first was that someone else had already taken residence in the place. They were huddled in a corner beyond the sink. A squatter, probably. It was common when the weather got bad. He let kept his eyes away at first, watching the door slowly fall closed. His gaze was drawn back, though. He wasn't very shy. In the dimness -- the lights weren't great. Two bulbs needed changing -- he could see that this person was sleeping. The floor around them was stained.

In another five seconds, his eyes and his brain worked out the details.

The music died away from his ears as he pushed his head-phones to his shoulders, crossing the room in two steps and falling down to a squat beside the bleeding woman. "Ma'am? Hey! Can you hear me? Miss?"

It was a familiar scene. Too familiar. Too, too familiar. There was a pang in the bassist's chest and a void in his stomach.

There was a lot of blood. It took him a moment to know where it was coming from. He laid a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Hey, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?"</sub>

Wearing: This Thing Here
Listening to: Flyleaf[/sub]
Notes: Sorry it took so long.
[/color]

[AMANDA JANE STEVENS]

Amanda's ears vaguely picked up the outside voice. Her body didn't react with more than a strange noise from deep within her chest. Though her chest rose and fell in a quick shallow pattern, it was faint and probably could have been mistaken for something else. Amanda could hear her tiny heart pumping quickly, pumping the lack of blood through her body. It sounded like a tiny drum, lub dyb, lub dub. Although the voice commanded her to open her eyes, but she didn't want to. She just wanted to lay here and pretend she didn't see what she had. Amanda just wanted to wake up later, clean herself up, and go about business.

It was safe to say she'd be avoiding David for as long as she could. Amanda didn't know what she was going to do about that little matter. She accepted his addictions, she didn't want to change who he was, even if she wished that he would stop. Her thoughts were getting fuzzy, she didn't want to think anymore. It was like she was thinking through syrup. Maybe she'd cut too much, maybe she should have stopped at some point earlier. Amanda took one last deep breath, a sign that she really wasn't dead. Her eyes fluttered behind their skin covers, yet another sign that she was still there.

What would happen if she just died? Alex wouldn't be happy with her, not to mention her parents would die. She smiled vaguely, it'd be nice to sleep though. It'd be wonderful, she could wake up later, maybe it was a dream with David and that girl. She could have been having a terrible dream about some stupid insecurity with David. Her breathing was growing more shallow, definitely should have quit while she was ahead. Her eyes fluttered open for a second and she caught sight of someone who was a little familiar to her. Though her eyes promptly shut before she could pinpoint who it was.

It was getting harder and harder to create coherent thoughts through her mind. Everything was getting foggy, it was becoming ridiculous. She just forgot what was going on. Her body, still lay in a pool of blood, her blade next to her.

OUTFIT, forgot to put it in first post. c:

[JONATHAN NATHANIEL CLARK]

<sub>The girl's eyes drifted open and Jon felt a pang of relief; who ever she was was, she was still alive. For now. He cupped her face in both his palms, lifting it up. In that instant, as her eyes fell closed again, he recognized her. Amanda, the girl who David had been carrying a flame for. "Amanda, you've got to stay with me, alright? Just stay awake."

He knew better than to move her in any way, lest she spill anymore blood. Jon snatched her hooded sweatshirt off the sink and pressed it gently to her middle. He fished his phone out of his pocked and quickly thumbed in '911'.

For the next several seconds, it was only his voice bouncing off the walls as he struggled to keep her lucid while speaking with the dispatcher. "Hey I wanna report an accident at the Bellgrade concert grounds. I don't know the exact road." He paused, his eyes lighting on the razor-blade. "Yeah, it's a girl, about twenty years old. She's lost a lot of blood. I'm pretty sure it was a suicide attempt."

It couldn't have been long before the paramedics arrived. It was a concert ground; there was always an ambulance near-by. Every second dragged on, though, with Jon agonizing over the growing puddle of blood.

"Just stay with me, Amanda."</sub>