AN: So this I something I just had to write. It's not even half decent but I needed to get it out of my system. It's the first time I'm writing in first person. The struggle was so real. Let me know what you think!

I have always struggled with balance.

When is it enough? How can you tell? When do you stop?

"What are you doing here?"

I try not to wince at the tone of her voice, irritated and resigned. With Caroline, it's even harder to tell where the lines are, it's hard to tell when and where enough is enough.

"Coz if you think hanging a few strands of lights is gonna make me forget what a crappy friend you've been then you though wrong."

I've watched her roll her eyes so many times before - at people doing mundane things, filling their lives with meaningless movements disguised as purpose. I've watched them roll at me, too, but those were always followed by a playful slap on the arm and a hearty laugh I always enjoy. Right now, it feels like I've been labeled as the latter - meaningless and inconsequential, something the world will do better without.

I suck it up because I know I hurt her and I know how it feels like to be let down by the one person you thought would always have your back. I know how it feels to be abandoned by the only person you've allowed yourself to truly need. And if I ever caused her to feel even a small part of the pain I've had to go through, it's something I will forever be making up for.

I remind myself of that. That this is my fault. That I need to make this better. Because she's the one good thing left going for me.

"Caroline, I'm trying, 'kay?" but maybe she's had enough of me today.

"Trying?" Her eyes find mine and in them I see how tired of this she is. I am, too.

"No. This is the easy part, okay? We're hanging Christmas lights. Anyone can be friends when they're hanging Christmas lights."

This is your fault, I say again in my head. It's hard not to be affected by the sting in her voice, mostly because a lot of what she's saying is true. This is your fault.

Quietly, I realize how frustrating this must be, to have to deal with something you'd rather not, being forced to face things you're not ready for. So I back off, I'll try again tomorrow.

"Who wants hot chocolate?"

This morning was a lot more productive and rewarding in my head when Liz enlisted my help for decoration.

"I was just leaving."

Five feet from descending the stairs, I hear her. "Mom?"

And with the rise in her voice and the heavy beating of her heart, I know she needs me. I rush back in to the room in time to catch Liz.

The hospital is a blur of action as the door to the emergency room closes on us. We watched through the little glass window of the door and I hear her breath hitch. I take her hand in mine.

She lets me.

When the doctors draw the curtains to where they're working on Liz, I take her to the chairs right outside the doors. As she settles into one of them, she looks up to me, her eyes searching.

I know exactly what she's trying to say. Tell me everything's going to be okay.

And once again, I find myself drawn to her. I find myself needing to comfort her after failing for so many months.

Bending down on one knee, never once losing her gaze, I tell her with every ounce of sincerity I can muster, "We're gonna get through this."

She continues to amaze me, how she can trust me so purely after everything I've done, how she so easily let's me be there for her when I kept pushing her away.

With a sigh, she closes her eyes and bows her head. I plant a kiss on her hair.

When I come back from the cafeteria with a tall glass of coffee, she's standing by the glass window by Liz's room.

I watch her from by the chairs, from behind. Her shoulders are slumped and her arms are wrapped around her torso. Even from where I stand I can tell how deeply she's worried. I know that she knows I'm watching her. I'm glad she let's me.

After a few minutes of heavy silence, I hear a sniff. I know what's about to happen.

I leave my place on the chair and pull her towards me. Once again, I am met by her pleading eyes. Promise me.

But I can't and I won't. I'm done breaking promises.

So I pull her into my arms, willing the strength in them to radiate to her. I feel her tears soak the side of my chest, cooling the skin over my heart.

I find myself renewing my vow. I will never let anything happen to you.