After my breathing came naturally, and I wasn't gasping for oxygen I fell from Taylor's arms sat down on the deliciously cool bathroom tiles. Then I felt familiar wetness that only women feel. I felt as if this was the final blow, I raised myself with weak legs and stumbled to my suitcase for a tampon. Taylor followed me in, just a step away, then closed the bathroom door after me. My mind felt fuzzy and numb as I inserted the playtex and put a towel around my waist, my pants needed to be soaked in ice water, the stain had gone right through. My back thumped against the wall, then slid down to the cooling tile again. Low, pounding aches in my lower back began a steady, painful rhythm. I lowered myself to the floor, not caring what my towel showed , as my touched the achingly cold floor, a moment of relief came. A few more tears came, but they were from physical, not emotional pain. My eyes caught a bright orange flash as I rolled my head with the hopes of relaxation. I crawled over to the sink and stupidly stared, then with a small struggle, opened the small container and swallowed two chalky pills without any water.

As Taylor closed the white bathroom door, he felt a slight pull to go inside, but he didn't know how to help her. He felt the cold brass doorknob become slippery with his wet palm. He rubbed his hands on his pants, but the leather didn't absorb any of the wetness. The pants suddenly felt uncomfortable and binding. He loved the tight, sexy feeling they gave him, but after twenty four hours of wear, they became binding. He looked at the bedroom a bit more closely, then focused on the suitcase she had left open.

He walked over, and noticed some clothes peeking out of the rim. He kicked off his uncomfortable Doc Martins and looked through her case. To his surprise she had it filled with pants, mostly cargo ones, and khaki, but a couple pairs of jeans, and most importantly, two huge pairs of adidas pants. He sucked in his breath and wriggled out of the confining leather and into the smooth adidas material. They were a little small, but still decently fit him. He threw this old pants on the bed, then went back to the suitcase. Her suitcase, in addition to the pants, which weren't folded, and still had numerous tags attached covered a couple videos. He smiled, thinking of his younger siblings, as he went through 'Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory', 'Alice and Wonderland', 'Willow', and 'The Little Mermaid.' She had some ancient copies of 'Mary Shelley's Frankenstein', 'Henry the Fifth', 'The Crow', and 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.' All of which he had never seen, save some of 'Henry the Fifth'.

The girl confused him. She obviously adored her fans but he couldn't believe how nice she would act when they were in the middle of having their first real conversation. Taylor flopped back on the kind sized bed. Her friends seemed weird, the first one at least. He reminded Taylor of a goth freak from neck down, but he didn't act like one. He and Lane seemed to go back pretty far. Why did he want her and Mac to talk so desperately? It made no sense whatsover, just like 'Alice and Wonderland'. He smiled, at least she knew what movies to watch. He sat up, the bathroom door was closed still. All he knew was that when he had a stomach virus, he wanted to be left alone, period. He chuckled, no pun intended. He looked across the room, at the large grand piano, it wasn't a great one, mostly there for decoration. He walked over to the overly stuffed red velvet seat and sat down gingerly. He couldn't remember the last time he had played a real piano. He had learned on a keyboard, right from the beginning, he had never really tried to pursue acoustics like Ike did. His hands raised and began to touch the ivory.

I doubled over with pain, clutching my stomach. The floor was ice against my cheek, a small drop of spit fell out of my parted lips. I closed my eyes and swallowed, the pain was sharp and dull and continuous. I knew I'd lose him if I kept on seeing other guys. I had to face that I was set for life, Mac and I were supposed to live together, he was supposed to be my husband. What I didn't tell Taylor was that I had said yes. I was pregnant, I didn't tell anyone, I didn't even know myself. I only had the baby for two months, I only knew for a month. Then I had lost it, I knew I'd be okay as a mom, I hadn't been afraid. Mac's eyes were so hurt when I told him, the hazel orbs had been desolate and dead, unfocused. He didn't want it. Lucky for him it decided it didn't want to come, no one knew in the first place, except for Ruth, my best friend. After the miscarriage I left him, later that month I met up with an old high school friend and had a one night stand. The sex had been good, but I felt like a whore. I went through about six lovers in that month, and I made sure that Mac knew about every single one. I hated him. My fingernails became short and bloody with my constant picking and biting, I knew I was in trouble. I joked about killing myself to Miles one morning. That night Miles ended up telling me that we'd go out clubbing and then drove up to a friend's father's office. He made me talk to the psychiatrist, and he held me through it all. I thought my life had ended, I had just thrown away a four year relationship, an engagement, a baby, and I wanted to cut myself up. I felt like a total failure at 17, I was seventeen for Christ's sake, I hated the fact that I was tied down, hated the fact that I had moved out of my parent's house because I could, not because I wanted to. The psychiatrist, Dr. Doloures, talked to me till 3 am, and I realized, by talking to her that I wouldn't have been happy with Mac. I felt like a stone had been lifted from my aching shoulders. I threw myself into writing, and had a book deal immediately. The light in the tunnel had become brighter, and I toured, talking to Dr. Doloures all the way. The larger the crowds were, the bigger my confidence had grown, soon I was dubbed the resurrector of poetry. People were listening to the poets again, and I was the start of the ripple. My tour was a huge success, at my eighteenth birthday all of my closest friends packed into the small reserved section of the auditorium, surprising me. I began crying as soon as I saw Kristen, my blond gone brunette nut scream "Happy Birthday you forgetful guss!!" I got presents and a huge chocolate cookie, in addition to the edible underwear. From then on my life was rolling, my month back with Mac hurt even more than I had thought, we tried to patch things up, but it was impossible. I was already on Prozac, but I took a couple weeks off to get back on my feet. My breakdowns lessened, and while I was still not happy, I had come over to Europe to immerse myself in work. Then Taylor had come, and changed everything.

Softly, and slowly I heard music come from the hotel room. It was calming, soothing, my cramps lessened. I breathed in quick, hot breaths, the pain lessened even more, I felt as if I could get up. I washed my sweat drenched face in the sink and looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My own green eyes stared right back, and for a moment, I stared at myself. I needed a haircut, I never wore any makeup, so I was a little pale compared to the rest of Brits. The dark marks under my eyes lessened, and my eyes had begun to clear the crying redness. I smiled, I liked myself, my high cheekbones were a little envied my friends, but I would never be a model. When I saw myself in the Rolling Stone, I was surprised, I looked so sophisticated in all the makeup they had layered on, and with my funny grin it almost looked ironic. I placed my palms on the sink and raised my body, leaning to the mirror. I uttered a small frantic sound, I had forgotten my contacts! I quickly took them out and cleaned them, I put on my green wire glasses, they were small, the colour of copper rust. I glanced to my watched, it was 11:30, I needed to get going, I had just touched the bottom of the pool, I could only go up now.

I left the towel on, I would take the tampon out later, I realized that I was supposed to take the train to the store to get more supplies, that's why I was there. I cautiously opened the door and stepped out to the creamy carpet. The piano music grew louder, more passionate, the melody sounded almost familiar. Taylor was so immersed in his playing he didn't notice I was in the room, he had my extra large warmup pants on, he looked pretty comfortable. Just as I was a step away, he stopped the flowing melody and turned around. "You look a lot better."

"Thanks." I looked at my toes, and out the window. "We need to talk."

"Okay." I took his hand and crawled under the piano, propping myself up with my elbows.

"I have to tell you what really happened." He began to speak, but I closed his mouth. "No, you have to listen to me."