She felt the tears well up in her eyes and a lump form in her throat. Her mouth went desert dry and her head was spinning. Her stomach was in a knot and her heart dropped and she knew it was done. Over with. She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep the tears from falling, as they were close to edge and made her vision foggy. Her nostrils flared and her hands were shaky. As if she wasn't a mess already, now she felt lonelier, scared, afraid, but yet she came off so vulnerable. As if nothing had affected her life. Her breaths became shallow and her eyes narrowed at the picture that was placed before her on the news stands of Los Angeles.

She read the big, yellow words printed so neatly on the red background and her eyes traveled down to that image that just screamed that she was a fool. She licked her dry lips and subconsciously tugged her sweatshirt closer to her body and fixed her sunglasses to her eyes, hoping that nobody would notice her. She pulled her hood over her dark brown locks while taking a deep breath. Her hand reluctantly reached over to the paper titled "National Enquirer" and she took a closer look.

"Are you gonna buy that young lady, or just stare at it all day?" She heard a gruff voice and her head snapped up. Her mouth was agape, she wanted to speak but the words just wouldn't come out.

"That'd be four dollars." He said impatiently.

She searched her purse skeptically for a five, no matter how much pain was running through her body, she just couldn't make herself place the tabloid back to its position and walk away. Because walking away hurt so much more. She had witnessed it happen too many times, and she finally realized that whatever the situation, turning your back and walking away was never the answer. It just hurt too much.

"Er...okay." she said quietly, looking down she handed him four one dollar bills that she found at the bottom of her bag. Once he had the money she quickly turned and ran. She had to get back home as soon as possible to try and figure out what's been going on. She knew that tabloids were not the best source to go to when you could just call the person up. But hearing it from him would hurt more than reading it in a magazine.

She had just turned onto her street. The tears silently slid down her cheeks as she saw that no one was home. She picked up her pace and wasn't paying any attention, all she wanted to do was get into her room and stay there. Not talk to anybody, just lock herself away in her room. But her body soon collided with someone else, knocking her to the ground, with the tabloid falling out of her bag and the sunglasses falling off of her face.

"Great just great." She mumbled to herself as she looked up. She froze as soon as her eyes met his. Standing there, he froze too. He held out his hand and she completely ignored it and helped herself up. She took a deep breath and picked up what she had dropped, not making eye contact with him any longer.

"Miley?" He questioned as she looked away as much as possible, fixing her hood over her head once again, and slowly clutching her bag closer to her, as if it was some type of shield form heartache. "Hello Justin." She said stiffly and narrowed her eyes at him. She hadn't spoken to him since that day she walked in his apartment to find him and another girl in a compromising position.

"Uhm...I..." He started, slowly pointing to the paper he saw Miley holding and sudden rush of guilt and regret rose over him.

"It's okay, I already knew." She said expressionless and looked at him. "You hurt me so bad." She looked down and spoke, barely audible, sure he didn't hear it. She was wrong.

"Miley, you should've-"

"Should have what? Huh Justin? Should have stayed home that day, should have written a song about you for closure?" She sounded in pain. If only he knew that that was her being "happy". The boxes under her bed were filled with lyrics about him. His name had to be written more than a thousand times. The words recorded in her notebooks and journals weren't enough to describe the agony she felt.

"I was going to say should have listened to what everyone..." He started but saw he lost her attention and she was already reading the article she held.

A frown appeared on her face and she looked up at him slowly. "You're getting married?" She whispered. And then she thought about her past relationship with him and what he had done to her. The bruises still ached and she had no idea why this situation hurt her so much physically, more than emotionally. Flashes of him being so angry at her zipped through her mind and she slowly backed away from him taking in a long breath of much needed oxygen. She stopped breathing and didn't realize it until he stepped toward her and she stumbled backward.

He chuckled darkly and the worst images came to her mind.

"Do you hurt her, too?" She whispered, the tears falling freely now. There was no words to describe what she had dealt with. All she wanted right now was to curl up in a ball right there on the street and never get up.

He shook his head and smiled lightly, "I could never lay a finger on her." He told her and felt no regret from seeing the pain flicker across her face as she winced. He stepped towards her again and she ran around him and he turned to face her. "Stay away from me..." She said in a weak voice and turned around and walked to her house.

How could I be so stupid? I feel like such an idiot. She thought as she dug out all of her notebooks under her bed and ripped the pages out. One by one. Each notebook and journal destroyed. She let out a sob as she skimmed through the words, trying to read through her tear-blurred vision. If she wasn't home alone she would probably have her whole family standing in the doorway questioning her act. But she was alone. As usual.

An hour later she found herself surrounded by torn paper. This was her life. The paper set a great example of how she was right now in life. Torn. Ripped up. Shredded. Damaged. Ruptured. Wrenched. The list could go on, but thinking about it made it worse. And so her night consisted of memories. Painful, torturing memories. Her fingers slowly glided over the mending bruises across her body and she weeped at the thought of his hands colliding onto her. The way he treated her, and she had told no one. And she had listened to no one.

She slowly got up and stumbled over to her mirror in the bathroom connected to her room. She was hideous. The reflection in front of her made her jump back in surprise. So this was what heartache looked like. She thought it was over two years ago in 2007 when- No, she didn't even want to go there. But she couldn't help but ponder the remembrance. Her body soon felt numb as the visions of earlier years raced through her troubled mind.

Her phone started ringing causing her to snap out of her trance. Ignoring the call, she turned the faucet on to cold water. She stuck her hands under it and the water pooled in them. She splashed the icy water onto her face and dried it with a random towel she picked up off the floor. Miley knew there was no point in trying to hide the evidence of her break down, it would just happen again. She shook her head at the thought and walked over to her bed, she was about to sit down, but halted when she saw something reflect on her wall. She ignored it and just closed her curtains completely, sure that no light could get in, and no darkness could get out.

But it bothered her. She didn't have anything shiny lying around, just torn up notebooks and clothes scattered all over. She didn't wear silver jewelry anymore, but she got up and looked over to where the glimmer came from.

She walked over to her dresser and saw nothing silver or shiny whatsoever. Miley sighed and looked down, and there it caught her eye. Sure enough there was that last bit of silver, hanging over the edge of an old shoe box. Right away she knew what it was. Was it a sign? Why would she suddenly notice it now? Why catch it shimmering when she was grieving? Her questions went unanswered as she kneeled down and pulled out the box.

She gasped at the sight in front of her. Dusty, ivory papers lay untouched along with a few guitar picks, pictures, his dark blue and white striped shirt, basically everything that reminded her of him. But there dangling over the edge was a silver dog tag. Her shaking finger slowly grasped it. She blew the dust off of it and looked at it closely. Engraved in it was nothing but his name and 'diabetes'. She sucked in a deep breath at the memory of when he gave it to her and she remembered the time she last held it, the night after filming the '7 Things' music video.

"No.." She said and whimpered once more. He was supposed to be out of her life, but she couldn't stop herself from looking over the paper in the box. Old song ideas, written between him and her, some were just by her, but about him. She came across a sheet in his hand writing. A date in the right hand corner, her name at the left. She read to herself out loud.

Dearest Miley,

I miss you so much, but I'm afraid that this secret communication between us can no longer go on behind Selena and Justin's back. It's not right and that's why I'm writing to you this one last time. I will never stop loving you and you know that, but this relationship thing just didn't work out. I would love to be your friend again but that hurts me as much as it hurts you. Please, don't write back. My family and I are moving. You know that if you are ever in trouble that I'm here for you. I always was. And I always will be. You are my one true love but this is just too painful.

Have a nice life. Call me if you need help. I'll be here, I promise.

Love always,

Nick.

And that was the last time she heard from him. She listened to him and didn't write back. She should have called when she was in trouble, but she knew better than to get involved with him unless she really, really needed him. That was now. She was tearing herself apart and Justin had helped. She sobbed quietly as she dialed the number in her phone without noticing that she had still remember it.

It rang on the other line. He had to pick up. He said he would always be there for her and her hope that she gained back when she read the letter was slowly drifting away. He promised her. So here she was calling him and shedding tears like they were going out of style. It rang and rang.

"Please...Nick. Pick up. Please..." She said desperately and took quivering breaths. She was ready to tell him everything about Justin, how he had used her and even more abused her. And she was going to tell him how much she missed him and how much she truly needed him.

The ringing stopped along with her breathing and a voice took over the sound.

"I'm sorry the number you have dialed has been disconnected. Please hang up and try your call again."

She sucked in a fast, quick breath and it hitched in her throat. She lost hope. And he lied.