AN: Sorry once again for the overdue update. I've been lazy and hopefully soon, I'll have a job and will be working. Also going to college (finally) might be happening, but I'll make an update when those things happen. Anyway, this chapter focuses more on some development between Mercedes and Alana's relationship as well as the one James has with his mother. Next chapter will have a bit of a surprise since I was sparked with a new idea. The end might give you a hint on what it might be. But please leave me you thoughts, comments, questions, critiques and concerns in the form of a review and I will try to update the next chapter much faster than I did this one.

"I'm worried about you sweetheart, the doctor told me that you're not making much progress," Arthur Griffin said with a grim expression as he sat with his daughter.

"I'm fine dad, I still don't get why you put me in this place," the teenage girl crossed her arms, irritation clear in her voice.

"Because Mercedes, you almost stabbed your mother to death," her father sighed heavily as he leaned towards her, his hands clasped together on top the surface of the small table. "And Dr. Collins said-

"I don't care what that stupid woman said, she's lying daddy!" Mercedes screamed as she stood up from the table, knocking over her chair in the process. "Why would you believe her? Why would you do this to me?"

"Mercedes, calm down sweetheart there's no need to-

"Don't tell me what to do! You're the one who put me here!" the young blond continued shrieking as she leapt onto the table and lunged at her father.

Her hands gripped tightly onto the fine silk lapels of his dark suit, while her father's complexion paled dramatically as her eyes bore into his. Arthur Griffin remained frozen as his young daughter continued screaming in his face and shaking him, before she was pulled from him and restrained by two orderlies who had rushed over to them.

"Let me go! Get off me!" she wailed, her blond her flying about her head as she thrashed under the strong grip of the male nurses above her. "Daddy, tell them to leave me alone."

Tears suddenly filled her eyes and trailed down her now flushed cheeks, the orderlies quickly took her out of the visitors' room, not giving Arthur a chance to even say goodbye to his only child. A heavy weight filled his chest as he readjusted his tie and slowly made his way to the exit, wondering if he made a mistake coming to see his daughter who in a blind rage almost killed her own mother and didn't show any remorse for her actions.

'Maybe there's just no hope for my little girl,' he thought while signing out on the visitor's log and continued walking out of the Palm Woods facility with a heart as heavy as stone.

"So yeah, I talked to my dad yesterday," Mercedes said abruptly as she kept her gaze focused on the ceiling above her.

"Oh, what did you talk about?" Alana asked quietly while refolding her clothes that had been recently washed.

"Nothing much, just about how his businesses are totally awesome and he's making even more money," the blonde replied and rolled her eyes in what would appear to be exasperation.

'What a little lying-

"What kind of business does your dad do again?" the other girl questioned, cutting off Elektra who decided to disturb the peace she'd been having all morning.

"All kinds, he makes money pretty much off anything that he can think of while my mother just sits around and spends it," another eye roll from her hazel eyed roommate to indicate her malcontent with her parents.

'I bet she'd still be spending her daddy's money just like her mommy if she didn't get put in this dump,' Elektra said with a snort, while Alana only sniffed and tried not to pay attention to the alter sitting on her bed.

"So, are your parents nice?" she didn't really want to hear the answer or keep talking to the pretty liar across from her. But a distraction from Elektra was usually welcome.

"Nice? That's not even the word I'd use, even if there were a word to describe those two," the young heiress sighed and sat up from her bed and looked directly at her companion. "My mom even thinks I tried to kill her. Can you believe that?"

"No, that's crazy," the smaller girl said moving her eyes back to her clothes still waiting to be put back into the chest of drawers.

"Well, I'm off to therapy; apparently I'm supposed to see that doctor twice a day now," Mercedes said as she got off her bad and made her way for the door. "I'm so ready to leave this place."

Alana made no reply as she set to work on reorganizing her clothing into the drawers of the small piece of furniture, the other girl simply shrugged and gave her roommate a quick hug from behind then, made her exit to go down the hall for her therapy session, a part of her still aching over the thought that her father may never come to visit her again.

"James, you have to eat something; it's only healthy for you to-

"To what, become a fat lard like you want?" he snarled at the counselor who stood in front of him holding up a plate spaghetti and fork. "Get that away from me!"

He made a move to slap the plate to the floor, but the woman before him moved just in time to reset the plate back to the cart that she'd brought into the room. The tall boy was the hardest of the eating disorder patients to persuade, he was stubborn and angry with everyone who tried to get him on a healthy track of eating and maintaining his weight.

James glared at the woman and crossed his arms over his chest, making the muscle tone he'd begun to regain become more pronounced. Meanwhile, he struggled to fight against the sea of nausea that seemed to suddenly appear, from where he couldn't fathom an answer.

With a soft sigh, Gloria looked at the young man before her with pity in her brown eyes, "James, sweet heart don't you want to get better?" she hoped she was asking him the right question.

"Better? I don't need to get better, I was fine before I came to this place!" the hazel eyed boy snarled back at the dark haired woman before him while the Jennifers only looked on, their own little arms interlocked.

The nausea was being persistent, but dissipated for the moment, consumed by the indignation that was now rising into his chest.

"You're not fine James; you're still under weight for someone your height, you need to eat," the last part was uttered in a soft whisper as rage filled the teenager's eyes quickly.

"I don't need to do anything!" he yelled standing up from his chair quickly, easily knocking the plastic object to the floor.

And then the world around him started to spin, his throat was dry and closing in on him, the woman standing in front of him backed away, but then quickly moved forward seeing his dizziness.

"James, are you alright?" Gloria questioned apprehensively, the teenaged boy didn't answer only stumbled backward before gaining his footing once more. "James?"

Everything was moving much slower for the tall brunette, the room continued spinning, his head ached and his chest was getting too tight. He couldn't breathe.

Something wasn't right.

"I-I'm f-fine," he slurred and managed to focus his now blearing gaze at the counselor. "I-I don't need your help."

Why was his throat so dry?

Before the dark eyed counselor could utter another word, James collapsed to the floor like a house of cards.

"Mercedes, do you understand what I'm telling you?" Dr. Collins questioned as she set her pen against her ever present notepad.

"Yeah I get it, you're just like my dad, always telling me what to do," the younger blonde grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest before turning her gaze to the floor.

"You need to control yourself, or you won't have any more visits with your father," the older woman said evenly, her eyes looked intently at her patient. "Your father was quite shaken up after your last visit with him."

The young Griffin snorted in derision, redirecting her line of sight back to the psychotherapist, who continued looking at her expectantly. The hazel eyed girl steeled her gaze as did the woman sitting across from her. Both were waiting for the other to cave, almost as if they were a mother and daughter arguing over curfew that now came to a fierce stalemate.

"I control myself just fine, doctor," Mercedes sneered, the first of the pair to break the tense silence. "I bet my mom put him up to coming here."

Dr. Collins sighed, picked up her pen to jot down a few notes before looking back to the younger blonde. "Mercedes, your mother is still trying to recover from the wounds you inflicted on her."

"I didn't inflict anything on her, she did that herself because, she wants attention. She's desperate for it," the teenager argued back, using the words her father had said to her while averting her eyes to the bookcase behind the therapist. "She's got that disease where you try to make yourself sick and stuff, you know?"

"People with Munchausen don't stab themselves 25 times, your mother almost died Mercedes," the other blonde said severely and folded her hands into her lap.

The psychotherapist could see that being a pathological liar made it nearly impossible for the young girl sitting in her office to admit any sort of fault; she was almost incapable of taking any sort of responsibility for her own actions. She would persistently try to manipulate the situation and put the blame on whoever she chose and currently that was her mother who was still battling for her life.

"I didn't try to kill my mother!" Mercedes suddenly screamed, her bright hazel eyes turning dark with rage, startling Dr. Collins out of her musings.

"Calm down Mercedes," she said evenly, glancing to the clock on the wall that there session was almost over. "Our time is almost up for today."

"Good, I'm getting tired of you accusing me of things I didn't do," the teen snarled as she pressed her back into the leather chair.

The good doctor restrained herself from rolling her eyes and instead forced a tight smile as her patient re-crossed her arms once more.

"James honey, the doctors told me that you're giving them a hard time about eating," Brooke Diamond said to her son in a gentle tone as she took his large hand. "I want you to get better, please."

"But mom, I have to be perfect," the brunette boy said almost desperately to his mother who looked at him with a sad expression on her pretty face. "I'm doing this for you."

"Sweetie, you don't have to be perfect for me or anyone else," she said while using her other hand to move a few strands of his hair from his eyes and caressed his cheek. "I've always loved you just the way you are."

"That's not true, you and everyone else want me to be perfect," he argued, in a more subdued voice than he would with the counselors, he wouldn't dare raise his voice at his mother.

"It is true, and the next time when I come back, I want to hear that you've been doing better and I might even bring you back a special surprise," she told him, hoping that the thought of a reward would motivate himself to becoming healthier.

"I'll try, I still don't like the food here," he pouted and wrinkled his nose at the thought of the cafeteria food, while his mother shook her head at his childish expression.

"Please be good James, I want you to get better," Brooke said as she stood up from the plastic chair in the visitor's room and opened her arms for the tall boy to hug her. "I love you."

"I love you too mom," he replied and squeezed his mother to himself before letting her go and watched her walk out of the large room wishing he could walk away from the Palm Woods with her.

Maybe he could try to get better and eat, hopefully.

"You have a letter," Dr. Collins said at the end of their session, this time she was able to have a more consistent time speaking with Alana than her other personalities. "It's from your father."

"Oh, thank you," Alana responded as she took the parcel from the woman in front of her. "Can I read it in my room?"

"Yes, you may Alana, our session is over so you can go to your room now," the older woman responded with a gentle smile as the timid girl looked at the letter almost blankly.

"Okay," was the simple reply as she got up from the leather chair and made her exit from the small room, her mind becoming more and more curious over the letter in her hands.

Alana sat down on her bed in her shared room alone, thankful that Mercedes was off in anger management therapy, allowing the timid girl to be with the letter postmarked from New York, which felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. She felt her chest tighten at the thoughts racing in her mind about the possible contents of the letter clutched in her grasp.

Maybe she could have used the bubbly blonde, to help her get the courage to open the envelope.

'Just open it already, it's not like the thing will explode in your face,' Elektra said impatiently while jabbing a finger into the meek girl's shoulder.

"I-I don't know, what if it says that he's never coming to see me again, or that I'm never going home?" the green eyed girl asked and bit her lip, her nerves building the longer she looked at the letter.

'Going home? Honey, that's the last thing that you should be worried about right now, so open that letter and read it already,' the dominant alternate commanded, her bright eyes staring the other down impatiently.

With a heavy sigh Alana opened the envelop to pull the letter out and began to read the neat, looping script that was her father's handwriting.

Dear Alana,

As you already know, this is your father and I'm writing you to tell you that I miss you and that I'm sorry that I couldn't save you and protect you that I was supposed to. You don't know how much it breaks my heart to know that you were in so much pain and I did nothing to help you. I hope that someday you'll find it in your heart to forgive me and your mother who misses you too by the way. I know that it may not seem that way since neither your brother or sister make an effort to call or attempt to visit, but we all miss you and hope that you're finally able to heal. Anyway, I bet you're wondering why I'm writing you instead of sitting across from you in the visitor's room, but your friend Elektra didn't seem too happy with me the last time I was there. The case against you has been officially dropped by reason of mental defect, I know for you that may be hard to believe, but trust me it is for the best. You won't be sent to an asylum for the criminally dangerous or sent to trial and then prison. However, you will be at the Palm Woods until your 30th birthday, or you can make the choice to stay there when that time comes. Hopefully, after this letter I'll try to visit you or call you to see how you're handling this news. Please take care, I love you.

Your Father,

George Ramazotti

'Does he actually expect you to believe this crap?' Elektra sneered, her hands clenched at her sides as she shook with rage. 'He might as well should have told you that you'd be stuck here for the rest of your life.'

"But I get to go home, when it's over-

'Over, it won't ever be over! Everyone thinks you're some kind of freak!' the blue eyed persona yelled finally snatching the letter from the other's hands. 'That family of yours doesn't love you anymore, when are you going to take the hint?'

"My family does love me, they just-

'Just what, are waiting for the right time to come say hi and show that they care? Don't even bother trying to fool yourself anymore,' Elektra folded the letter back and stuffed it into the envelope knowing that Alana would want to keep it. 'Carlos loves you more than they do! Even that little liar Mercedes and they both barely know anything about you.'

"Mercedes is different and so is Carlos…" she trailed off, her skin warming at the thought of her boyfriend and roommate, who despite confessing to having feelings for James was becoming strangely affectionate towards her.

Before either could continue their conversation further, the loud screech of the fire alarm sounded in the hallway. Quickly opening her door, Alana coughed at the smell of smoke that billowed into her nose and made her eyes water.

Someone was burning the Palm Woods down.

Next update will hopefully come soon, leave me thoughts in a review. Until next time. xoxo