So, I suck. Uberly. Majorly. I'm so, so, so sorry to keep you guys waiting for fuhreakin' ever, and I promise to repay you with a brand new story and more regular updates this summer (:

I have to give credit where credit is due, and that is to Blue Scrubs for giving me an idea for this chapter, which starts off Sonny, before you guys get confused, then switches. And thanks all of you, for reviewing and reading and wanting me to continue. It really helps, and I love you all (L)

Sorry for the change in perspective. I've been writing in third person for the other chapters, but I recently started practicing second person for an English story for school, so it's sort of stuck. If you like this, please say! If you think it's horrible, also say. I'm not really sure which way I prefer yet (:

Broken Strings

Let me hold you ;

The light is so bright and you blink rapidly, trying to get away from it, to run away from it. What is it they say? Don't go into the light? Oh, fuck, Sonny, what have you gotten yourself into this time? You try to move but invisible chains are pulling you down. You can hear horns – cars? – worried voices, screaming, shouting. Your body feels oddly warm. Too hot. Far, far too hot. Your arm starts to scream out in pain. Shit! What is that? You try to move your head to look but you feel paralysed. Then your leg is burning too and you thrash in pain, your mouth opening but no sound coming out. You feel pressure on your hand, but it's soft and comforting this time. You hear a voice, "Sonny? Sonny? Stay with me, please. Sonny? Can you hear me?" You try to respond but you can't speak. You can't do anything. All you can concentrate on is the pain.

---

It's been two weeks. Two weeks, four days, seven hours, twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds.

And she still hasn't woken up.

You rest your head against the soft material of the mattress, immersing yourself in her smell as she rests so close. You want to reach out and touch her, kiss her, tell her to wake up. You want so many things. Too many things. But they're all impossible.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Please, Sonny. Wake up.

It's your mantra. It's the only thing you can think, the only thing you can say. She's constantly there by you, a reminder that it's your fault. You made this happen. If only you hadn't called her, if only she hadn't turned, if only that truck hadn't been speeding –

You shudder at the memory, seeing her body so crumpled. She'd looked so confused, so lost. All you had done was sit there and hold her hand. You called 911, you sat there in the ambulance whilst they worked on her. You stood outside the OR whilst they fixed her. You kissed her forehead when you thought she was waking up that one time three days ago. She fluttered her eyelids – the most subtle, small thing. But it'd been a sign, at least.

You just want her back.

"How is she?" you look up to see Connie, Sonny's mother walk in, her frail hands shaky as she clutches at her handbag. You pause, your breath catching in your throat. You know how much this woman despises you.

"She's .. good."

"Good?" she scoffs, a harsh, bitter laugh. "She hasn't been good since she fell into this stupid coma." She bites back tears. You wince.

"It's not my fault," you mumble.

She seems to soften. "I know. But …"

You settle into an uncomfortable silence. You can't blame her. You're the boy who took her daughter away. It is your fault. You know it. She knows it. The whole world knows it.

The paparazzi haven't left you alone. You spend most nights here, but it doesn't stop them from getting a glimpse when you leave the hospital on the rare occasions. They ask questions like: 'Did you push her?' and 'How does it feel to know she might not wake up?' It pushes a hole through your chest every time. She will wake up. You know that. She has to. Because what will you do without her?

You reach numbly for her hand and squeeze it into yours.

Wake up. Please.

Your phone shudders silently in your hand. "Hello?" you whisper.

"Chad?"

"Tawni?"

"I think you should see this."

---

"HE DOESN'T LOVE ME ANYMORE" headlines were plastered all over the magazines and newspapers, a picture of a 'distraught' Kaya crying, her mascara down her cheeks, hair messed up pictured on every one of them. You groan inwardly. You'd almost forgotten about her. Tawni is standing awkwardly by you, flipping through pages.

"She's really using Sonny as a publicity stunt?" you mutter through gritted teeth as you read the article. It claims that you've left her for Sonny, that you're some sort of 'player', and that it's your fault that Kaya's career is now ruined, as 'Falling' will maybe not air until next year. It seems the magazine has gone far past against even you, it's now on this made up third side, 'Kaya's side'. Team Sonny, Team Chad or Team Kaya. You swallow back the bile in disgust as you realize how the rest of the world just sees this as a game.

"Bitch," Tawni mumbles, in agreement. You slam the magazine shut and ignore the blasts from cameras outside. "Wait – Chad? What are you doing?"

You start to walk towards the doors and fling them open.

"If you want to get your facts straight," you begin, snarling at all of them, nostrils flaring, "Kaya is a fucking slut and a crap actress who'll never get another job and she only got this one because she slept with the casting director. 'Kay?"

The roars from outside grew louder and Tawni drags you back in, much against your will.

"Never – do – that – again!" she yells at you. You ignore her and storm back into Sonny's room.

"I'm so sorry."

---

The light is getting darker now. The screams stopped a while ago, you knew that. You felt being moved, you felt the pressure on your hand being torn away, and you immediately missed it. You can only hear the constant beeping. You don't mind it inside your little calm world. You have Chad with you, wherever you are. Tawni, Nico, Grady and Zora. Your mom. They're all there. But they're too pale, too ghostly to be real. They look at you horrified when they think you're not looking, and it scares you to death, but then how are you sure you're not dead? It's weird. You can feel something getting stronger, something getting louder. It takes a while for you to realize it's your heartbeat. It seems to loud, and it pounds in your ears. You look at your mother, bemused, but she's gone. It's just black now. You're drowned by the blackness, the light's gone. You open your moth to scream and –

"Sonny? Sonny? Can you hear me?"

You blink and stare up into the face of a wrinkled man. Light slowly fades back in and colour seeps back into your vision. You sob in relief and another pair of hands grab you, and you relax into your mother. You don't know what's happened. You don't know where you are.

And … and who's that boy?

---

It was the pulse that gave her away. It was getting stronger, and you're no doctor, but you knew what was coming. Almost as soon as you'd ran back in, you'd ran back out again and got a doctor to see her. She was waking up, you were sure of it.

But now she is, she seems dazed. You can't take your eyes off her, but she's looking at you, confused, with some sort of disgust in her eyes, a film that clouds her. You open your mouth to speak, but then the doctor is ushering you out.

"But I have to – Wait! Sonny!?" you cry as he pushes you out, gently but with a harsh purpose in it. You stare at her through the glass until he draws the curtain down and you slump against the wall.

She was looking at you like .. like she didn't even know who you were.