It might just be that I'm an emotional person... but writing this chapter made me cry.

(Ben's POV)

I slammed my hand down onto my alarm that was beeping noisily and flopped out of bed. I had been a wreck ever since that night at the party.

It had been almost a week, and I hadn't been outside in public, combed my hair, or showered. I was a wreck. A nasty, dirty wreck.

Mike had been banging on my door every morning, but I didn't let him in. I was just dreading the moment he remembered he had a spare key.

The worst part of it was that I was stuck with the house Erica and I had used to live. (We lived there for like, two days but whatever.)

There were traces of her scent everywhere, and some nights I just hugged a pillow to me, forcing myself to breathe. The Little Mermaid came on TV one day, and I had a panic attack. I could barely breathe, and when I did, it was in large, ragged gasps. It felt like someone was grabbing my lungs, and squeezing them until they burst.

That's pretty much what my panic attacks feel like.

I missed her and needed her. I had become so accustomed to living with her, even if it was only a few days, I would look over and her seat, and want to tell her something, but she wasn't there.

She had Pax, as he was her dog, and although I felt lonely, I didn't want any company.

This particular morning, the headlines of the paper left me with a huge migraine, and a sick desire to read it. The headline was:

Ben Ripley: Hollywood's newest playboy in a long line of cheaters. Could he be the biggest one yet?

By: Riker Skeets

All of the people who were aww-ing at Ben and Erica's adorable whirlwind romance are left booing and showing Ben their favorite finger.

A week ago, Ben was spotted locking lips with gymnast Ashley Sparks. Erica apparently saw them and ran from the party.

Ben has not been seen out of his house since, and we can only imagine what's going on in his head.

Erica has been unavailable for comment, and only said to our reporter: "If you don't leave me alone, I swear to God, I'll rip off your legs and use then to beat you over the head with."

Looks like the breakup has got her in all the wrong places.

I dropped the paper with a sigh. Erica sounded like how she was before I actually got to know her. I hated that she was suffering. I hated how I was suffering.

My eyes dropped to the fuzzy blanket I had cocooned myself in. It still smelled like lilacs and gunpowder, and I felt like crying.

I stayed wrapped up in my blanket cocoon for several hours, listening to the quiet music that was playing on my phone, drifting in and out of reality. "Where are you?" I whispered along to the song that was currently playing. "And I'm so sorry. I cannot sleep, and I cannot dream tonight."

"I need somebody and always, this sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting every time."

I closed my eyes fading back into the depressing realms of my mind. I flashed back into reality in time to whisper the last lyrics.

"You're already the voice inside my head, I miss you, I miss you."

"I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you."

And everything faded into darkness.

I awoke to the sound of a key turning in the door. So Mike finally remembered he had a spare key.

He threw the door open and marched up to me.

"Get up." He said firmly, leaving no room for any other choice.

I warily sat up and propped my head on both hands. "What do you want?" I mumbled. His eyes narrowed. "I want you to get off your ass and stop moping, come on Ripley, go back to who you were!"

When I didn't move, he grabbed me by the shoulders. "I know you didn't do it! I know you're heartbroken! But let me help! You need to get better! I don't know what's going on with you, but it's not good. LET ME BE THERE FOR YOU!" He pleaded.

I stood up abruptly. "I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!" I roared. "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT ANYTHING! I'M NOT WHO I USED TO BE! I DON'T WANT TO BE WHO I USED TO BE! I DON'T WANT TO LIVE!" I collapsed onto the floor with those words, and tears started pouring onto my face. Mike's hard expression melted into one of concern, and he sat down gently next to me.

"I don't care anymore," I whispered into nowhere, my head resting on the hard, cool, wood floor. My head turned to face his, tears still trailing down my cheeks. "I don't want to live. What's life if love is gone? What's life without someone you love?" With that, I turned away from him and shut my eyes tightly, tears still pouring down my face relentlessly.

"Ben." He mumbled. "I know how you feel. I don't need distractions. My entire life, I've had one goal: make it into the Football Hall of Fame. No girls, no parties, no drinking." He laughed bitterly, a harsh, bleak sound that tore through my heart. "Obviously I've screwed those up."

I turned towards her again. He was resting his head against the wall, his head angled upwards, facing the ceiling. His eyes were closed lightly, only a flutter away from opening. His blond hair was sticking up slightly, and he looked so young in that moment that I missed him already.

His hazel eyes opened and found mine. "Do you love her?" I asked, the question softly leaving my lips. He closed his eyes again and angled his head back up at the ceiling. "Maybe." He murmured.

I rested my head against his shoulder.

"I still miss her," I muttered. He laid down next to me. "I know." He replied quietly. "I sang depressing breakup songs," I mumbled. He laughed quietly, a flame of hope in a room of darkness.

That's what a true friend was. Someone who laughed with you through the hard times, and offered comfort at the same time. Someone who would be there for you. Always.