I own nothing in this chapter or any chapters to come.

Miley's POV

I stand here alone looking at her grave. I'm alone and so is she. She died alone and I live alone. We were in love. I was going to marry her. She was my everything and now I have nothing. I read the words on the marble tablet till I felt the familiar heat of tears welling up in my eyes.

I needed this. I needed to feel this pain. I needed to torture myself. It was my fault. I killed her.

I read it again and again. Lillian Ann Truscott, 1992-2008. It was exactly two years ago today. I feel a tear leave a hot trail down my face as it escaped from my eye. Her family still won't speak to me. They knew it was my fault and they made sure I knew it. She trusted me, they all did. I looked her in the eye and told her I would protect her. I wouldn't let anything happen to her. I promised her, I promised them all and I lied.

To this day I'm disgusted with my self. I can't move on. I won't move on. I will not let go. I've never stopped thinking about her. She intrudes my thoughts. She steals my dreams. When I close my eyes all I see is her.

I knelt down and set a white rose on her tablet. Her favorite flower was a white rose. No one new that. No one cared. I did. Everyone, including her parents, just assumed it was a lily because of her name. No one took the time to ask her. I did.

I wanted to know her. I wanted to see past the silk blond hair and those smooth blue eyes. I did. Her heart was beautiful. Her life sang a song that was beyond my wildest imagination of beauty. Her laugh, oh her laugh, it was so majestic. Now it's gone.

Lilly would have loved this day. It's not hot, not cold but a perfect balance. Not a cloud in the sky. She would want to go to the beach. I would lie in the sand. She would lie down in my arms, head on my chest, and listen to my breathing. It was my natural living rhythm. She would listen to it all day and slowly drift off to sleep. Now she can't.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as I hear the crisp grass crunch behind me. Someone's there. I heard a sigh. Knowing who it was I didn't bother to acknowledge them. This was my time to suffer. I wasn't supposed to feel happy. I wasn't supposed to want a life.

"Miles", she says to me just above a whisper. I don't answer. "Miles, It's been two years. You need to let her g-", I don't let her finish. I quickly stand up and face her.

"How can you say that! You didn't know her like I did! You don't know what happened! I don't deserve to let her go! You have no right to tell me to let go!", I yell.

I instantly see the pain in her eyes. I know she didn't mean any harm. She doesn't know. Exactly, she doesn't know. She can't tell me to let go. She has no right.

"Alright Miles, I'm sorry. I'm not gonna tell you I know how you feel but I do understand. I hate seeing you torture yourself. You've been at it for almost two hours. Please Miley, let's please just go." She tries.

I slowly nod my head letting a few more tears come out. I give one long last look at the grave. Not breaking my gaze I feel a hand slip into mine. I painfully pull my eyes away and look into hers. She stares back at me. She has so much care in her eyes. It's gentle. Like she might break me if she gives a harder look.

She leads me to her car, a black mustang convertible. She opens my door and I slowly slide in. She walks around the car to get in, never breaking eye contact. She gets in and waits a few seconds before starting the car. She's deep in thought. I fight the urge to burst into tears for hurting her. She starts the car and begins to make our way towards the exit of this god forsaken grave yard.

I don't know how she does it. She puts up with all the shit I pull on her. I can be a bitch and I'm not afraid to admit it. Yet, she takes on the role of my only comfort. She's my punching bag and my pillow. She never leaves. I swear I'm bipolar sometimes. I tell her to get out, then I call her crying an hour later, wanting her to come over. She's there within ten minutes, holding me.

She saved me from death multiple times. She won't let me die. I never understand but then she shows me. I don't know what I'd do without her. I don't know what I'd do without Mikayla.

She kinda took over after Lilly died. She always made sure she was there for me. She always tells me she'll never leave me.

I have other friends. I had more. After Lilly's death I lost half of them. I love them all, really, but there is only one Mikayla. The best friend I have right now.

We were always friends but she didn't really step in and act like it till Lilly died. Lilly rarely allowed her to be there. It's not that Lilly didn't like Mikayla. She just saw her as a potential partner for me or "threat" as she would sometimes put it. She was just being protective and Mikayla respected that. She made sure that Mikayla knew that I was hers. I was hers. I was Lilly's. I loved it. I loved her.

I always told Lilly that she was too protective. She always told me that because I wasn't, she had to pick up the slack. I trusted her. I knew she could handle herself. I didn't listen to her. I was too fucking stupid. I got careless. That's what killed her. I. didn't. listen.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and open my eyes. I guess I fell asleep. "Miley, we're here." We're at my house now. I'm so weak from crying. I can't get up so I shift in my seat. Mikayla gets the message and unbuckles my seat belt. She puts her arm under my legs and the other around my back. She carefully lifts me out of the car, closing the door with her foot, and walks me up the steps and to the door.

Her keys are already in the hand that's under my leg. She unlocks the door with skill and walks inside my house, once again, closing the door with her foot. She gives a cocky smile to herself for completing the challenge of holding me, unlocking and opening the door, then shutting it. She climbs my stairs and reaches my room.

It's late. My dad's asleep. It's about 3am. Lilly was buried in Washington. She was born there so that was where she was to be buried. It's about 12 hours from my house. That's if we drive strait there. If we make stops it's about fourteen.

Once inside my room, Mikayla manages to pull back the covers on my bed, giving another smile for completing another challenge, and sets me down. She pulls my shoes off, tucks me in, and kisses my forehead. She turns to leave but I stop her. "Don't leave", I say. "What?" she replies with a hint of surprise. She should be used to it. She stays here almost every night.

"Please don't leave me", I say softly. She looks hurt again. Not because of me but because she made me feel like she was leaving me.

She slips of her shoes and takes off her jacket. She climbs into bed with me and wraps her arms protectively around me. "I will never leave you", that was the last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep.

So that's the first chapter. In this story Hannah Montana never existed and Mikayla was never a star. This story isn't only in Miley's POV, there will be others. So tell me what you think.