I was in shock, rocking back and forth as I stared at him with my mouth gaping open. My mind kept replaying the nightmare over and over; my eyes heavy from the lack of sleep; I was dazed and confused.

"So, you just going to stare at me like a girl does shoes or can I come in?" Grady half smiled, the corner of his lip rising in an awkward manner. It was something he did when he was uncomfortable. He made crappy jokes and weird smiles.

"What . . . what are you doing here?" I questioned, startled, as I moved aside, allowing Grady to shuffle into the room. I quickly scanned the area, waiting for Grady to point out an empty bottle I had left behind.

I felt like a teenage whose mother had charged into the room, leaving me no time to hide the evidence. However, the room was spotless. I must have subconsciously cleared the room of all liquor.

It's something I had been doing for years.

"You were right."

"I was? About what?"

Grady sighed, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "On the phone. . . This isn't something you should be doing alone. We both were here, we both knew and loved . . . her," Grady could never say her name. "We both have to face our demons."

"What I said on the phone-" I began but was cut off.

"What you said on the phone was right."

I shook my head, shutting the door behind me as I whirled around to face him. "No it wasn't. I was mean and . . . and bitter. You didn't deserve that."

Grady shrugged. "Maybe I did," he paused. "Maybe all I needed was the kick in the face to make me realize I had to do this. That deep deep down, I wanted to do this. It's time to put this in the past."

We exchanged odd glances. Neither of us knew what exactly to say. Even though we both knew, deep down, what awful thing came next. Just thinking about seeing Adena's dad made me sick to my stomach.

"You know, it's only been a week and you look a lot different," Grady commented.

"This again?" I found myself whining.

"Nevermind," Grady shooed it off. "I don't want to cause a fight; just making conversation."

"If this is your idea of conversation, you suck at it," I sneered. Grady sighed, running a hand roughly over the back of his neck.

"Why so defensive?" Grady frowned.

"Because I'm freaking out right now. I'm supposed to be at his house in ten minutes and every time I've tried to leave my legs wouldn't let me!" I found myself out of breath and patience.

"What's making you so nervous? Quinton?" Grady wondered, scratching the tip of his nose.

"What isn't making me nervous? Kyleigh's getting Quinton out of the house, but I not only have to step back into that place, but I have to look her father in the eyes and say what? Do what? . . . How are you so calm in all of this, hmm?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

"It's weird," Grady sighed. "That house was like my second home. So, I don't feel like I'm going to the Serre's house. I feel like I'm going home after being away for so long. Is that weird?" I didn't know what exactly to say. I was stunned by the idea of some place still feeling like home to him.

I guess I had been the only one to lose that feeling when Adena died.

"Welp, let's do this," Grady rose from the bed. "Are you ready?"

"No . . . I'll never be." Grady set a gentle hand on my back, shoving me in the general direction of the door.

I stumbled out of the room with Grady not too far behind me. Shooting a glare towards him, I headed towards his vehicle and got into the passenger side, not even thinking about what I was doing.

I was still trying to prepare myself, even though the effort was wasted. Before I knew it, we were on the road, heading toward her house; the place I didn’t want to go; the place I couldn’t go.

I felt like I was going to pass out.

I couldn’t think straight. My world felt like it was spinning and any second I was sure I was going to throw up all over Grady. I pinched the bridge of my nose, my hand shaking uncontrollably. No matter how many breaths I took, I could never find the right amount of oxygen to take in a full breath.

My heart was beating hard, it’s thumping pounding in my ears. Sweat dripped down my forehead as my stomach lurched as we turned onto her street. I could see it, her home coming up. I couldn’t breathe, for a few seconds I forgot how.

I’m going to throw up. I’m going to throw up.

“Grady . . .” I mumbled, “Pull over.” He glanced at me and must have seen something on my face because he pulled over to the side of the street; just a few houses down from hers.

As soon as the car rolled up against the curb, I stumbled out and rushed to a large tree sitting in front of a pale yellow house. Falling down to my hands and knees, my stomach released the little food that I had eaten that morning.

"Dylan!" I could hear Grady shout as the car's engine shut off. He sprinted out of his seat and over to me, but stopped at the putrid smell. “Are you okay, man?”

I remained still after I was done, attempting to calm my upset stomach.  

“I can’t do this.” I replied, crawling off to the side and away from the puke. I need a drink. Or two. Or ten.

"I know it feels like you can’t," Grady began, stumbling unconfidently over his own words.

"No!" I found myself shouting, shaking my head violently as my throat burned. "I can't! I thought I could do it. I thought I could go up there and look him in the eyes and get whatever the hell he wants to give me but I can't!" I could feel tears burning, wanting to escape.

"Don't do it for yourself then-"

"Then who the hell do I do it for? My mom? She’s dead. My dad? He doesn’t give crap about Adena. He can’t even say her dang name right! I have no one else! She was all I had left!”

"You have me." I held my breath, eyeing him as his fake expression dropped. He appeared just about as shocked and uncomfortable as I was.

“I’m . . .” I couldn’t find any words. I’m so selfish. Here I am concerned about me, when Grady is going through the same thing. Grady lost someone also; he lost his sister.

“I know losing her was hard for you . . . but it was just as bad for me,” I couldn’t speak. I only felt like throwing up again. “I didn’t get my time to grieve. I didn’t get my time to be reckless and . . . and stupid! I got over Adena’s death by cleaning up after you, Dylan. You were humpty dumpty and I was the king’s man who came along and put you back together. But I’m broken too.” I could hear his voice crack slightly, he stopped to recollect himself.

Was he about to cry?

“So yes,” he continued. “This is hard for you. I understand. But it’s hard for me too.” There it was; a single tear racing down his cheek. “So it’s my turn to fall off the wall and it’s your turn to glue me back together.”

"Now you're sounding like me," We shared off placed smiles. Everything felt like normal for a split second.

“So, uh . . . you done throwing up now? Because you know . . . we go to the front door and you feel your stomach muscles moving again . . .  well . . . the last thing we need is you shooting chunks at his shoes and more importantly, my new shoes.” he replied, putting emphasis on new. “That would be slightly more than uncomfortable.” He remarked.

I could feel the tightness in my chest dissipate as I took in a deep breath. For a moment, I felt as if I could do this. However, when Grady and I began stepping across the street and down the sidewalk, the tightness returned.

I came to a halt in front of her house. I could see myself prom night, sprinting up her driveway and pounding on the front door. Next to me, Grady took a deep breath and headed up the stones to the front door. All I could do was follow his lead. He raised his hand to knock, but stopped in midair.

"You can do this," I whispered. Grady eyed me, a confused look on his face. Guess he wasn't used to being taken care of. I nodded my head in encouragement. However, I was freaking out. My mind was crying, screaming, begging him not to knock on the door. Then he did and my heart stopped completely as we waited.

I could hear his steps before I saw his face. They pounded against the wood floor before he swung the door open. Adena and her dad shared the same tired, coco brown eyes; the same eyes that greeted us.  

Adena's dad looked different. When I had seen him at her funeral, he looked okay. His coffee brown hair had been slicked back with hair gel and he remained semi fit.

Now, he looked like a completely different person. His hair was longer, flat, and dry; as though he hadn’t done anything with it in a while. His arms and legs looked like twigs ready to snap off the tree at any moment. His cheeks were hollowed in and dark circles were under his eyes. With his pallid skin color, he looked ready to drop. Peering into his eyes, you could see a weariness that even I have not felt.

"Dylan," his voice was hoarse. Any second I thought I was going to lose my breakfast . . . again. I froze, my breath shaky. I couldn't think of anything to say. It was as if I was in a foreign country trying to speak to one of the locals. I was clueless.

"Mr. Serre," Grady chipped in, trying to ease things, but Adena’s dad was too busy looking at me as if I murdered someone he loved.

Oh wait..

I did.

"Grady . . . what a surprise," Adena's dad paused, his eyes falling on Grady for a moment before finding themselves shooting back my way. He shook his head, "come in."

Adena's dad shuffled backwards, allowing Grady and I to trudge inside. The house had changed. The couches were the only thing that had remained the same but I could still see Adena and I sprawled out on them, watching Paul Blart and laughing until our stomachs hurt.

Everything else was in boxes. Most of the boxes were open, and I could see a few family photos inside of them.

"Moving?" Grady questioned.

"Yeah. This house just . . . has too many memories," Adena's dad frowned, eyeing his shoes. I glanced over my shoulder only to get stuck in another memory of Adena and I standing by her front door. I remembered how beautiful she looked on prom night, her hair up and her smile on. I remembered her wonderful perfume; it's lavender scent traveling into my nostrils.

I could still smell it.

"Well, follow me boys. I left it upstairs." Adena's dad whirled around and started up the steps. What was it? What could he have found? Was it a note about how much she hated me?

Our feet creeked against the staircase as Grady and I followed after him. At the top of the stairs I noticed a picture. When I came across it I froze. Grady stepped aside and continued, but I couldn't take my eyes away. It was a picture of Quinton and Adena, their cheeks smushed together.

How was Quinton? I found myself wondering as I gazed into his happy face.

The last thing I heard about him was that he was on suicide watch. Kyleigh assures he's gotten better.  It's either that or he learned how to fake being okay better. I looked into the picture, my eyes finding Adena's. Even though it was only a picture, her eyes still made my heart stop. I missed that more than anything, her ability to remind me how much I loved her all by a look in the eyes.

The pain of knowing that feeling wouldn't be a daily one anymore broke me. I forced myself to turn away, stepping toward Adena's room. As soon as Adena's dad threw open the door, I froze.

The last time I had seen this room, it had been soaked in her blood. The carpet was faded in certain spots, probably from scrubbing out blood. I couldn't breathe. I could see myself sitting there, sobbing, holding her in my arms.

I stumbled backwards, my legs going numb. In fact, my whole body went numb. I clutched onto a nearby table, which sat under the picture of Adena and Quinton.

"Dylan?" Grady asked, concern etched in his voice. I waved him off, trying to keep myself focused on not passing out in his house. Adena's dad disappeared into her room for a moment before coming back out with an envelope and box.

"A . . . Adena left this for you . . . she uh . . . left me a note . . . before . . .” he paused for a moment and rubbed his head. "She wanted you do have these."  Adena's dad practically threw the box at me. It was like a hot plate, he was so eager to get it out of his hands. He cleared his throat, running his bony fingers through his hair. "I'll be downstairs . . ." He whispered, eyes back on his shoes. "Take as much time as you need." With that he charged down the steps like the house was on fire.

Now that Adena's dad was gone, I let myself fall to the ground. Landing on my butt with a loud thud, I let myself begin to weep. I couldn't help it. Seeing that room, remembering those feelings, it was too much.

The thing that had set me over the edge was the fact that I could remember the smell of her blood. A metallic smell swirled around in the air as I held her wrists, her warm blood blanketing my hand.

"I can't do this," my voice squeaked as I shoved away the box with my foot.