I know that I never continued this, even though I said I was going to. Stupid things got in the way and I doubt anybody even cares about this story anymore, but I feel like its sort of my job to keep updating it. I wrote half of this in April and just recently remembered that I never posted it and added some more. Hope you guys (if anyone reads it) enjoy! All I ask is if you do read it, send me a quick review. I'd love to hear your opinions on chapter 2.

"Shit's pretty rough, kid." The disheveled older man shoves a crumpled brown bag in my hand. We exchange a nod before he makes his way back to his motorcycle and takes off, leaving me standing alone in a dark ally in the middle of downtown Seattle, holding deadly drugs and contemplating whether or not I should kill myself right here and now.

I'm such a mess.

Three months ago, I wouldn't have even imagined disobeying my mother. Now? I've ruined her. She took all my "prescription" drugs away and my solution was to buy them illegally off the streets by some guy I'm pretty sure I've seen on America's Most Wanted. I'm such a mess and I hate myself for it, yet not enough to actually do something about it. The only person who could make me feel better right now is Sam. But she isn't here. She'll never be here.

I shake my head as I slowly walk back to the car. Once I get inside, I open the small bag and glance inside. I place five white pills on my palm and swallow them dry. I sit back for a minute and close my eyes, thinking of Sam. Her beautiful blond curls that cascaded down her back, her bright blue eyes that would light up when she smiled. How she could come back with a witty comeback in seconds. How it was so easy for her to get under my skin, but I let her anyway just because my life would suck if she didn't make me miserable half the time. God, I miss her. I miss her so goddamn much.

I'm desperate for another hallucination, just for a glance at her. I haven't taken anything since my mother took the drugs away on Thursday and I'm going insane. I chuckle at the thought. As if I wasn't already insane.

I can't dream about her like I used to. I don't dream anymore. I see nothing, nothing but black. I am nothing. When I can't see her, I feel nothing.

Nothing

The word runs through my head thousands of times and I shut my eyes to keep it there, playing over and over in montages. I occasionally see her face, but not often enough. She's smiling, laughing. Hitting me after I say something stupid. Yelling at me in the midst of a huge argument we had over...dinner reservations? I almost smile. Leave it to us to have an argument over something so worthless.

Before I know it the memories are gone and I open my eyes back to the cold harsh reality of life, my life.

I put my foot on the gas and drive out of the tiny ally, squinting as my eyes come in touch with daylight. Then my vision blurs. I can feel my heart beating in my chest and I remember that I just took five pills. Five pills of what a drug dealer called "pretty rough". And I'm driving.

I try to pull over but my hands seem to be attached to the wheel, somehow guiding me back home. My foot presses harder on the gas and a car behind me beeps. I'm no longer in control of what I'm doing. I can't even see the road in front of me, and I know it. I know that this is going to be the way I die. I hope it is. I'll be dead in five minutes or less if I'm lucky. Sweat runs down my forehead and I'm shaking in my seat. If I had control of my limbs, which are somehow driving this car, I would crash into a telephone poll and that would be it. I wouldn't have to do drugs to see Sam anymore, I'd always be with her. I wouldn't be miserable and alone. I wouldn't have to come to terms that I'm failing all of my classes and I won't be able to do anything with my future. Hell, I won't even have a future. Death sounds so great right now. It's the only solution. There can't be another solution. I mind as well just-

I'm torn away from my thoughts by a voice. Sam's voice "What the hell are you doing?"

She's screaming and I turn to her, taking a second to notice how beautiful she looks, even now. "I'm coming to see you, baby." I murmur. My voice doesn't sound like myself.

"Get off the road! Get off the fucking road!" She's screaming so hard but I still can't hear it. My ears are ringing and I'm starting to think that I'm already dead. I vaguely see tears running down her face and I slowly lift a finger to wipe them off. She slaps my hand away and her mouth comes in contact with my ear, shouting so loud that almost all the ringing has been muted. "Do you want to kill someone? Someone with a boyfriend, a best friend? Someone who is healthy and happy and doesn't deserve to die? A 17 year old girl who was driving to her boyfriends apartment one minute and in a coma the next?"

"Sam...baby...settle down. I-I'm fi-"

I can't even get the word out before she's screaming at me again. "Do you think I want you to die? Because I don't. Don't kill yourself, Freddie. Get off these damn drugs and try to turn your life around. This isn't what I want either, okay? I don't want to watch you get eaten alive by these drugs and I don't want to watch you kill yourself when you can still get help. If this is all about me, why wouldn't you do what I want?" She has to take a breath because she's sobbing so hard, and I notice that I am too. "B-Because all I want is for you to be okay." Her voice is harsh. "Get the hell off of the road."

I nod quietly and she's gone. I try to think about what she just said to me, but I can hardly think right now. Sweat covers my forehead and I can't stop bouncing my legs up and down, causing the car to jolt forward every so often. My mind is delayed with my actions and my breathing is no longer persistent. Jesus Christ, how long does this trip last? Usually it's no more than a few minutes of this erratic behavior before the actual high kicks in, but it's already been longer then that. I can only imagine why this is illegal.

I press my foot on the gas a little too hard and the car jolts forward. A few people on the road beep at me and I curse under my breath. I can't see where I'm going, my eyes are clouded over. It can't be too hard to get home, I'm sure I only have a few more miles.

It's a miracle that I even made it to Bushwell. When I pull in the parking garage I sigh and lean back in my seat. My heart beat is slowing and I decide it's okay to walk through the building.

Taking a deep breath, I board the elevator and press my floor number. My head is pounding so hard that I have to shut my eyes with everything in me, praying it will stop. Sam's voice echoes in my head. It was my fault. She had been driving to my apartment when she was hit by that drunk driver. If I had gathered even an ounce of courage and gone to her house, no matter if her insane mother was home or not, Sam would still be here. That realization makes me nauseous.

The loud ding of the elevator tears me away from my thoughts and I try my best to stand up straight, staring at the open hallway in front of me. One minute I am staring ahead and the next I am at Carly's door, knocking as hard as I can.

Spencer answers. "Hey buddy..." He says cautiously, and by the distorted look on his face, I can tell that he knows. "You wanna come in? Maybe lay down?" I nod slowly and try to make it to the couch by myself, but Spencer sighs. "Here, I'll help you. You okay?"

"No."

"I know, kid. I know." He assures me. I want to assure him that he doesn't know. That nobody knows, nobody will ever know. That I'm not just a pathetic teenage kid that lost his girlfriend. I'm a pathetic teenage kid that lost his everything. I don't have the energy to say anything except one word.

"Spencer?" I whisper.

"Yeah?"

"I did it, didn't I?"

He leans forward as I rock back and forth on the couch, trying my best to pull myself up to a sitting position, before Spencer can even respond, I'm screaming. "I killed Sam. It was me. I KILLED her."

Spencer holds me down, trying to stop me. He is talking to me, maybe even yelling at me. I don't hear a word he's saying. I vaguely hear footsteps coming down the stairs and I expect to turn around and see her wonderful blonde curls and adorable smile, but I don't. It's just Carly, who looks more exhausted and miserable than I can imagine.

She doesn't speak. I think I'm still talking to Spencer, or he is talking to me. I'm not sure. Everything is blurred around me. My mother might have even walked in, maybe she was crying. She could have threatened to send me away like she has so many times before. She could have screamed my name, hoping...begging that I would answer her. She probably did. But I am gone. I'm no longer Freddie Benson. I'm no longer anyone. Everyone who has ever cared for me is standing is this room, begging for a response that I refuse to give. Because there is one person, one single person, who isn't here. And god dammit, when are they going to realize that she is all that matters?