Hey y'all.

I made a few changes to this chapter. 1st: All the italics are in the past (of course) and will still remain from Troy's POV. 2nd: The present though has been changed from 1st person to third. It makes it a little easier on me to be able to include parts with Shar, where Troy is not available to see. Understand?

So, please enjoy!

And review. :)

-sullenxgirl

Chapter One: Hopelessness

I pressed my shaking fingers to the wall of glass.

I spread them out into a fan, laying my forehead down, eyes flooded with regret. She crawled over, and put her own hands up against mine, and even though human touch was cut off, I could feel her warmth. She smiled through her tear-filled eyes. I couldn't even look at her. This was all my fault. An ocean of tears submerged my world, blurring everything together. But she needed me. I couldn't reject her.

At last, my eyes met her deep, dark, and lonely ones.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I whispered.

"It's okay," she mouthed, tears running down her cheeks.

I was sobbing, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I collapsed onto my knees, head hanging low in desolation. She tapped the glass. She needed me to stay with her. She was the one locked up, and yet, she found the strength to bring me out of despair. She was too good for me, under all circumstances. And I didn't deserve her.

Honing in all my dissipating strength, I finally lifted my eyes. Crying with a sorry smile plastered on her face, she blew her hot breath onto the glass, and traced a heart in the steam.

"I love you," she mouthed.

I tried to tell her the same. But then, a hand rested on her shoulder, and he lifted her up. He was taking her away. I pounded my fists against the glass. No, he couldn't do that! Please, come back. Come back. But she submissively followed him, as he led her away. All I could do was watch. I was weeping, and banging on the glass, willing her to return. People were pushing and grabbing me, doctors, visitors, nurses, but all I could see was her.

"Shar! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I love you!" I wailed.

With one last fleeting look, her head turned to me, and she pressed a hand to her heart, squeezing her eyes shut. And then, she was gone. She had disappeared from my life forever.

In a fright, he awoke, breathless.

His eyes darted around the dark room as his teeth chattered and the bare skin on his arms erupted into goosebumps. He tried to calm his racing heart. It was only a dream. A reoccurring dream. A terrifying memory of reality. But a dream, nonetheless. Still, his chest heaved in and out, tired and reluctant to supply the lungs with oxygen. Swallowing the lump growing in the back of his throat, Troy threw the covers off, and sat on the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands.

It'd been three years.

And he was still caught in the past.

It was too hard to let it go. She was the only one he'd ever loved. She was his perfect fit, made for him in every way. And because of his ignorance, he let her slip through his fingers. His life was mercilessly ripped out from under his feet, and all that remained of him was left in the dust. How could he get over something like that? If his restless spirit were to answer, the reply would be: You don't. And he couldn't.

He remembered the scene so clearly. He closed his eyes, and tried to rid himself of the horrid memory, but it was of no use. That day would forever be ingrained into his mind, unbreakable and immortal it remained. The guilt and sorrow filled Troy's chest. He rose from the bed, angry, and shuffled out to the kitchen. He flicked on the light, squinting from the sudden glare, and pulled out a chair from the square, poker table in the center.

Glancing across it, he noticed his haphazardly placed cell phone sitting in the middle, face down. Hesitantly, he picked it up. But he was only fooling himself—this he knew. There was no one to call. No shoulder to lean on. He was friendless and alone. But hopelessness has a way of dragging its desperate, distraught victims into believing there's always an exception. And at this moment, hope was all he had.

Troy began to scroll through all eleven of his telephone numbers. He checked off each impossible choice in his head, until he quickly came to the end of the list, and his eyes laid on a singular name. He stared at it, throat closing up. It was his last resort.

Call her.

Troy scoffed at my own injurious thoughts. There was a shoulder out there. Yet, one he knew full well not to lay his head on. But the fact of the matter was: he needed someone. Anyone. He needed Gabriella.

Before he could rethink the rash decision, he hit her number, and pressed the phone to his ear. Its hollow tone rang loudly. Anxiously, Troy tapped his fingers on the surface of the table, already regretting his decision. He seemed far too good at that. On the fourth ring, he sighed, and almost hung up, when at last, it was answered.

"Hello?" whispered a groggy voice. Only, it was not the voice he was expecting. Or the voice he wanted to hear. He cleared his tightening throat.

"Can I speak to Gabby please?" Troy croaked. There was an awkward silence, where there was only breathing left to hang. Troy spoke up once more. "Its, um—"

"I know who it is," the voice brazenly snapped. Troy lowered his head in shame. Just hang up now. But an invisible restraint refused to let him surrender. "You really have a lot of nerve, don't you, Bolton? ...Did you honestly think just because you're going through a tough time, we would forget everything you've done?"

Hot, angry tears welled in the corner of Troy's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ryan, okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry for...," beginning to choke up, he stopped mid-sentence, wiping at his eyes.

"You can't even say it, can you?" His incredulous tone sliced into Troy. He shook his head. Oh, what was he thinking? Why did he call the wife of the brother of the woman he sent to the psyche ward? God, what was wrong with him? All he'd wanted was to gain some kind of comfort from an old friend. But this was far from it.

Sighing, Troy spoke up, "Ryan, please. Can I just speak to—?"

"No, as a matter of fact, you can't talk to Gabriella." A single tear dripped down his cheek with wet remorse. "The only word that should come out of your mouth—"

"Ryan!" interrupted a familiar voice. Startled, Troy closed his mouth. He could hear shuffling and Ryan sigh heavily. "Let me handle this." As Troy sat, motionless, clutching his knee, the receptor was transferred between hands. Finally, she came on.

"Hi, Troy," a very tired Gabriella said softly. Troy sniffed, and tried to disguise the strain in his tone of voice.

"Hey—look, I'm sorry for calling this early, I didn't mean to—"

"I know, sweetie." She let out a slightly irritated, but consenting sigh. "Just talk to me."

Unable to voice all that lay heavily on his shoulders, Troy remained speechless. It was almost as if he had forgotten the entire reason for this call. He let out a shaky breath. And that was all Gabriella needed to understand the situation at hand.

"You had the dream again, didn't you?" she asked.

"Yeah." he whispered. Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Then, finally, Gabriella broke the silence.

"I know it's hard to believe, especially right now, but there will come a day when you can forgive yourself."

"I-I can't. Ryan—"

"This isn't about Ryan. This is about you, Troy." A pause and then, "You did what you thought was right. And that's what counts."

Troy sighed, soaking in her words, despite the intense disbelief he carried in his heart. No matter what Gabriella said, he knew the truth. He would never forgive himself. Ever.

Sighing, Gabriella said, "Troy, honey, it's really late; you and I both need to get back to bed. Why don't I take you to work tomorrow, and you can talk to me then, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

He hung up the phone. And began to cry.