I was awoken by the sound of my door creaking open. Peeking open an eye, I saw the outline of a person enter my room. Opening both eyes, I looked again.

"Who . . . who are you?" I moaned, pulling myself up. To the left of me was the bed, which confused me, until it dawned on me; I hadn't made it onto the bed. I had been too drunk. I was lying on the ground, against the nightstand.

"What? One day and you've already managed to forget who I am?" I rubbed my eyes and took another glance at the person standing there.

"Kyleigh? What are you doing here?"  Kyleigh strode into the room, setting down the items she held in her hand onto the desk.

"I brought you some coffee. It may not be the perfect hangover remedy, but it should help some." Spinning around on her heels, Kyleigh eyed me with a frown. Walking across the room, she disappeared into the bathroom. I could hear her open a drawer followed by the sink being turned on. When I could see Kyleigh leave the bathroom, I replied to her earlier comment.

"I'm not hungover," Kyleigh didn't respond. She only circled around the bed and kneeled down in front of me. Now, I could see she had a rag in her hand. She began to wipe my chin, sighing.

"So sober people just throw up on themselves?" I didn't say anything. I only sat patiently, peering at her as she continued to wipe my face. When she was done, she set the rag down on the desk and handed me a cup.

"How did you even get in here?" I questioned, taking a sip from the cup, enjoying the smell of the coffee as it hit my nose

"Well, after you freaked and ran out yesterday, I got worried. I knew you wouldn't be at your dad's house, so I called James. He told me you were here. He owes me a few . . . well a ton of favors, so I called them all in and he gave me your room number and a key," Kyleigh couldn't help but smirk.

"Why were you worried about me?" I wondered.

"Because, the last time I saw you, you looked like you were having a panic attack. Then you ran out of the room and got drunk. And after what James had told me about you going out every night, drinking, I didn't want you to go back to the old Dylan."

"The old Dylan? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Dylan, I didn't mean it like that. The old Dylan used to drink all the time-"

"Haven't you realized it yet? The old Dylan was happy. The old Dylan loved life and the second she died . . . I did to. The old Dylan is dead. This new Dylan is always upset and guilty and . . ." I couldn't finish my thought, I was so angry. Didn’t she realize it was more than the drinking. It was her. It was Adena.

"Dylan, don't say that. I know her death affected everyone-”

"Everyone? How did it affect Jackie? Or . . . or Brooke! How did it affect you? You didn't love her! You didn't spend every minute of the day thinking about her!" I could tell she was getting riled and I liked it. I wanted to see her upset as I am. It was better than seeing the kindness in her.

"That doesn't matter because you didn't either!” She began, ignoring the first part of what I had said. "You couldn't even remember her name before you guys worked on that stupid project!" She turned around and started pacing. It looked as though steam was about to come out her ears. I hadn't expected Kyleigh to blow up on me like that; maybe just a few harsh words, but not that. Then again, I had expected myself to jump up from the ground and start to yell.

"Oh what, and my not remembering her name is way worse than making her feel worthless?" Kyleigh spun around, her back to me. It was a few minutes before she dared to face me, her eyes glossy.

"And I regret it everyday. . ." She whispered, the fight having gone out of her. "Adena was special. I wish I knew her more than the few weeks I did," she sat on the bed, defeated. "I may have only known her for a few weeks, but I still cared for her. It still hurts me that I missed out on a wonderful friendship."

She was quiet for a moment. I still had trouble believing that Kyleigh cared about her. But then her voice rang out:

"I should feel the guilt!" She stood and glared at me; icicles shooting from her eyes. I tried backing up a little bit, but smashed against the nightstand. "You were friends with her! You hung out with her! Me? I made fun of her, ignored her, and made her feel worse than trash. She killed herself because she had no one. What if I had befriended her? When then? Could she possibly still be alive?" Kyleigh began pacing again. "I was too late! You had time with her! I couldn't! I was too late!" How dare she?

"What? Because you knew her for a few days all of a sudden you have every right to feel guilty? I loved her! When I talked to her, my heart skipped a beat. I got butterflies in my stomach every time I saw her smile. Do you know what it's like to know you'll never reach that level of happiness ever again? Maybe if you had been nicer, I would of had more time." Shoving past her, I left Kyleigh standing in my room.

I could feel that familiar pain stinging in my chest as I stomped down the hall. I pushed past a sweet couple, probably honeymooning their way to a great life together.

"Hey!" the guy called out to me, angry that I had pushed them out of the way, but I wasn't listening. I kept going. Seeing them reminded me on what I missed out on with Adena.

All because I was too stupid.

I hadn't even noticed I was heading towards the bar until I stood at it's doors. I wasn't sure of the time, but all I knew was that a drink sounded like the only way to drown my sorrows for the time being.

However, as I flung the door open and stepped inside the bar, I was hit with something. My body cried in disgust and I felt as if I was going to hurl. Forcing myself to sit down in a nearby booth, which was hidden in the corner of the bar, I tried to wrap my mind around this reaction.

Usually, my body didn't think much of the drinking. My mind, however, would beg for it. Today, both my body and my mind agreed drinking wasn't something it wanted to happen.

Closing my eyes, I tried calming down my queasy stomach. I didn't know if I would be able to get up and leave with the way I was feeling.

"Can I get you something?"  I glanced up as a waitress stood, impatiently tapping her foot. I shook my head no, hoping she didn't see my sweating hands and brow. "Just let me know if you change your mind," she said, spinning around on her heels and leaving me alone.

I couldn't move from the seat. I could only sit there, heart pounding, like back at the pizza place. Someone set down a glass of water in front of me. Confused, my eyes shot up and found a kind pair of emerald green eyes staring back at me.

"Here you go pumpkin, on the house." It was the bartender from a few days ago. The one who had watched me punch James's friends in the face.

"Thank you . . . uhm . . ." I tried searching for a name tag, but came up empty. I looked at her helplessly.

"Jane," she smiled, saving me.

"Thank you, Jane." I corrected myself, finding a weak grin emerging. She eyed me for a moment before the front door opened. Another customer trudged into the bar, finding a seat on one of the stools at the counter. Jane walked off, returning to her spot behind the bar.

"Hey Blake," Jane greeted her customer.

"Hey Jane, how are you?" My heart stopped as chills crawled down my spine. I knew that voice, I knew that name. I knew it better than anything.

It was my Dad.

"The usual?" Jane questioned, reaching for a glass. My dad sent her a tired nod. She filled his glass up and set it in front of him. "How's the search for Dylan going?"

"Not well.” He paused to take a sip from his glass. “The boy has managed to disappear off the map. I've heard some rumors from old friends about where they think he and Grady are. But so far, no such luck." I was startled.

My dad was looking for me?

Why did he want to find me? My dad and I had never been close, especially after my mother had died. But, just him searching for me made me think. Think about the times when I was little and he'd take me to football games and I'd pretend to enjoy it because it made him so happy.

Should I tell him I'm here? Should I go to him and hug him and beg for his forgiveness? Just the thought of hugging someone made me want to get up. I did miss my father, I really did.

"I just wish he would stop running away from me and his past. You know? He has to face it sometime and I mean . . .  I didn't really do that much damage to his life. And I don't think that girl . . . Alena?" He paused, trying to think.

"Adena . . ." Jane whispered quietly. She had liked Adena although she didn't know her that well. Adena had once helped her with the math homework leaves in her front lawn, which she was really struggling with at the time because of a bad back.

"Yeah. Adena. Well, I don't think Adena could have done that much damage to him. I just want to set things right with Dylan."

Every good feeling towards him disappeared in an instant. He didn't even know her name? He said she made me happy, and he didn't know her name? She did more for me in the one night of meeting her, than my dad had ever done for me in my lifetime.

Shutting my eyes, I could see the scene playing out in my head.

“There’s something you need to know . . . about Dylan,” Adena said, her eyes looking to me. I remembered begging her inside and out not to say anything, but she did what was best for me. “Dylan doesn't like football!” I remember how angry my father was.

“Dylan! Why wouldn’t you tell me this?”

“When could I? Every time I say something, you ignore it. Until I bring up football. Then suddenly you care,” I replied in anger.

I remember storming outside, Adena chasing after me. I remembered spinning around, being so angry towards her.

Opening my eyes, I could see a worried Jane staring back at me. Feeling my cheeks, I realized it was damp. Had I been crying? Jane circled around the bar, ready to come to my aid.

Using my sleeve, I wiped my cheeks before jumping out from the booth. Turning around, I headed towards the door.

"Pumpkin!" Jane called, causing my walk to turn into a sprint. I shoved open the bar doors, not slowing my pace until I was across the street and the motel was in sight. As I stomped towards the room, my mind wouldn't stop. The scene replayed over and over in my head, and I could hear Adena in my head.

“I’m sorry…. I just wanted to help,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

“Why? Huh? Why can’t you just leave me alone? My life was perfect before you came around! My dad and I tolerated each other, Jackie and I got along and I had no doubts about our relationship! And then you show up and nothing makes sense anymore! Sometimes I just wish I could . . . unmeet you!”

The words stung. I could feel more tears racing down my cheeks, but I didn't care. How could I ever say that to her? I remembered her crying, it broke my heart then and now.

“I’m sorry I cause you all this pain . . .”

I stopped on the steps of the motel, sitting down. I covered my ears, breathing heavily, hoping the memory would stop.

But it wouldn't.

“Adena-”

“No! All I ever wanted was to help you. I just didn’t want to see you hurt yourself anymore. But I guess I tried too hard."

"Stop!" I whimpered, wanting nothing more in this moment than to die.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she continued, “I know I’m a failure. I know I’m nothing important and no one special. I thought maybe you could have changed that, but I see I was wrong . . . as usual.”

I remembered everything inside of me screaming to reach out to her, I remembered her turning around and walking away, I remembered doing nothing.

I screamed, I didn't care who heard. I couldn't deal with this pain any longer. I could hear someone calling my name, but it was only when a hand fell on my shoulder that I spun around. Kyleigh stood on the steps, worry clear on her face.

"Are you okay?"

"You're still here?" I wondered, confused.

"I don't care how much you hate me. I'm not going anywhere," she smiled. I stood up, turning to face her. She flinched, unsure of what I was going to do. I grabbed onto Kyleigh and pulled her close, hugging her as tightly as I could.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I needed her.