Okay, I know I should be working on my other story and I feel really guilty for posting this right now cause there's a good chance that one of these will get neglected, but I promise I'll do my best to keep up with both my stories. So, enjoy, and please click the REVIEW button at the end of the chapter and leave your thoughts! Thanks!

It's been a long time since I've thought about her. Almost two years. Of course, I've been trying to keep away from those memories, locking them up in the back of y mind so I wouldn't have to face them. I've distanced myself from everyone who would remind me of her. But now...now I think it's time for me to face my past, to get back in touch with everyone, to remember.

So that's why I'm sitting in my car in front of the house she used to live in. It's winter break, so I don't have to worry about missing any classes because I've driven all the way across the country to Malibu, California. Sighing, I pull the keys out of the ignition and get out of the car, closing the door behind me. I walk up to the front door and raise my hand to knock when I spot the familiar skateboard next to the door. Grabbing it, I race around to the back of the house and pull out my cell phone, dialing that familiar number.

"Lilly landing in ten!" I yell into the phone, and I hear a surprised gasp before flipping it shut. I hop on the skateboard and everything comes back to me as I kick off, zooming towards the closed door which opens just as I approach it. I come to a stop in the middle of the living room, aware of everyone's eyes on me.

Surprisingly, everyone is there. Mr. Stewart is standing by the open door and Jackson is on the stairs. Oliver is sitting on the big couch with Kristen, Rebecca, and Mark. Simon is sitting on the chair and Amelia is on the arm. I lean over and pick up the skateboard, nervously holding it in my hands.

"What're you doing here?" Oliver demands, standing up angrily. "What made you decide to show up now of all times? You don't have the right to be here anymore. You never cared, we all know that, so don't pretend to start caring now. Why don't you just go back to where you came from?"

Nodding, I head back towards the door, setting the skateboard down just inside the house, and leave. It's obvious that I'm not welcomed, and I don't want to make anyone else upset. My parents no longer live in Malibu, they moved to Seattle a year ago, so there's no use in me staying. I have no money besides what I need to use to buy gas on the way back, so there's no way that I'd be able to stay in a hotel. It's time for me to go home.

"Wait, Lilly!" I turn to see Mr. Stewart running after me, and he pulls me into a hug as I stop. I start to cry and he just holds me, rocking me back and forth as I sob. There's no reason for me to cry, it's just like something inside me broke when he touched me. The last time a Stewart touched me...no, that memory is too painful for now. I'll focus on the less painful memories. "We don't want you to leave," Mr. Stewart said. "Oliver is being unreasonable. If he has a problem with you being here, then he can leave himself. Who're you staying with, your parents? Friends?"

I pull away, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "My parents moved to Seattle awhile ago and all my friends are in your house," I whisper. "I was...I was hoping Oliver...I can just sleep in my car."

"When did you get here?" he asks incredulously.

"Just now," I whisper. I don't tell him how long I've been sitting in front of his house summoning up the courage to go up to the door and go inside.

"You're not driving home right now," he says. "Come inside, we'll give you a little privacy to get cleaned up and get changed, then you can come out and we can try to talk Oliver down. Everyone else is trying to calm him down right now, so they're all on your side. Just...try to be careful around him. He was hurt when you left for New York."

"I know," I whisper, following him inside. No one turns their head when I walk in behind Mr. Stewart. They're all concentrated on Oliver, who's going off on a rant on how I've been the worst best friend ever and how I don't deserve forgiveness. Tears leak from my eyes as I climb the stairs after Mr. Stewart, following him into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He stops in front of Miley's bedroom and stares at me expectantly. I realize he's waiting for something. It's then that I realize that the door is locked. It's been locked for two years.

"Do you have the key?" he asks.

Suddenly the light chain around my neck grows heavy as I realize that I'm the one who locked the door. I'm the last one who was in that room before it was shut away from the rest of the world. I'm the one responsible for opening it back up, for the letting the memories come back, for making everything right again. I pull the chain over my head, staring at the silver key hanging from my hand. Mr. Stewart reaches out to take it, but I shake my head, taking the key and putting it in the lock with shaking hands. He steps back and I think he realizes that I have to do this myself, that this is what I came here to do.

I put the key back around my neck, tucking it underneath the collar of my shirt, and reach for the door handle, wrapping my fingers around the cold metal and slowly twisting it. The door opens easily, which surprises me, because I expect it to resist after going unused for two years. Stepping forward, the floor creaks beneath me as I cross the threshold. It's dark because of the curtains I pulled across the windows and French doors the last time I was here. I can't see anything and I slowly make my way towards the curtains, pulling them back and letting light into the room.

Everything is exactly the same. The bed is made, her books are open on her desk, her guitar is leaning against the wall next to the keyboard, her music still on the music stand. The closet door is open, revealing a door that is cracked slightly open, leading to the Hannah closet. A pile of dirty clothes lays on the floor, and the Hannah and Lola outfits are neatly set out on the chair next to the window, waiting to be put on. Our wigs are waiting for us, and it's almost as if it's that night again, and I'm just waiting for Miley to walk in the room to start changing. But I know that she won't.

And the letter is laying on the bed, just where I left it. It's the letter Miley gave to me right before she...before she...no, I can't think about that. I'm not ready for it. So I pick the letter up and sit down on the floor, leaning against the bed, and carefully open the envelope, making sure that I don't rip it because it has my name written on it in her perfect, looping script, the 'i' in my name dotted with a small heart. Tears come to my eyes as I pull out the letter and memories come flooding back. I can't keep them away, so I close my eyes and let them come. It's finally time.

Okay, so there you go. Once again, I can't tell you when I'm going to update this, but I can assure you that I'll try to keep up with both of my stories. I really don't want to let this go. Soooo....please REVIEW!!! :) Thanks!

AThousandTimesMore