A/N: Hey guys, it's Emma and Kacee. Welcome to our new story that we're co-writing together. =)

It's starts off with the gang all back for a second year of camp rock.

Flashbacks in italics.

Read on and enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: We very sadly do not own Camp Rock or any of the characters. Yeah, boo hoo. ='(

Mitchie Torres wandered down the familiar paths, her unwilling feet leading her over the already mud smothered track towards her cabin. Her eyes were fixated firmly upon her shoes. She was afraid to look up, afraid to see the surroundings that had once held so many warm memories for her.

Things had changed dramatically since the last time she had set foot at Camp Rock, and now the nostalgia that she felt at being back there only made her heart ache for the way things used to be.

Even though she knew that it was impossible.

She paused and swept a loose strand of hair away from her face before resuming her weary stride.

The camp was still so fresh in her mind that she knew exactly where she was going; this was a trail that she had walked countless times before. She could smell the moist earth, newly dampened by the previous night's rain; hear the birds' constant chatter amongst the trees; see the mingled footprints already strewn across the path, and just as she had thought, it made her mind explode with painful memories of that summer. A summer so filled with exuberance and adventure that the mere thought of it sent a miserable jolt through her body.

Mitchie had adored this place, the scenery, the people, even the scent that seemed to cling to every inch of the Camp. But now the devotion towards the place that had transformed her had died, lying crushed and mangled in the empty pit of her stomach.

Her eyes journeyed upwards as she warily surveyed the scenery. Everything looked so different, yet nothing had changed. The cabins were still the same cedar buildings that had once filled her with such excitement, and had reduced her to heavy lashings of tears when forced to leave them. But there was no adrenalin pulsing through her veins now. There was no emotion in her eyes, no expression on her face. Her entire body felt strangely numb.

Mitchie closed her eyes and took in a deep intoxicating breath, praying that it would help to clear her mind of all of the miserable thoughts and images that had been haunting her since that fateful day a few months earlier.

The pain continued to pulse through her, and she shook her head with a slight scoff.

What was wrong with her?

She needed to calm down, to breathe. She was being stupid. Overreacting. Sure, coming back to Camp Rock hadn't been exactly what she had wanted, but she was determined to ignore the persistent wavers of defiance and hatred that were nagging at the back of her mind.

"Mitchie, honey? Can I come in?"

Mitchie's heart twanged at the sound of her mother's lifeless voice, the voice that proved her mother was really just as empty as her.

But she didn't answer.

She couldn't.

She had barely spoken to anyone in weeks, barely even taken a step outside of her bedroom. Her guitar lay lifelessly across her bed, abandoned, strings yearning to be plucked and strummed.

Connie poked a weary head through the doorway, concern obvious on her face. "Mitchie?" she questioned timidly.

Mitchie refused to look at her. She didn't even acknowledge her entrance. Her glazed eyes were fixed on the wall in front of her with a glare so intense Connie was amazed the bricks didn't crumble.

"I have a surprise for you," Connie said quietly, inching a few steps closer to her motionless daughter. She clenched her teeth slightly and took a deep breath. Mitchie was not going to like this.

"You're going back to Camp Rock."

There was a tense silence before Mitchie turned to face her mother. "I'm what?" she said, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Going to Camp Rock," Connie repeated with a bit more strength.

"No, I'm not," Mitchie replied without a moment's hesitation.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter," Connie said firmly. "It's already been sorted."

"I'm not going. I don't want to go back there, and you can't make me!" Mitchie cried with sudden stubbornness, rising from her place on the bed. Her chest rose and fell as sharp breaths raced through her body.

"You live under my roof Mitchie, and you will do as I tell you!" Connie retorted.

Mitchie seemed taken aback by this comment. It took a long moments silence before she realised that she didn't have any real argument against her mother; she wasn't going to win this. Her stony features suddenly melted away and tears began to shine in her large hazel eyes.

"Why?" she whispered, her eyes falling upon the floor.

"Oh honey," Connie murmured, reaching forward to comfort her daughter.

Mitchie backed away from her mother's embrace; her face showing the hurt she was feeling. "Why?" she repeated brokenly.

"Because you need this, Mitchie; you need music and you need your friends! How do you expect to get better when you just shut yourself in this room all day?" Connie replied, looking upset. "You don't sleep, you hardly eat and I don't even remember the last time you sang."

"I don't need music and I don't need friends. Why can't you just leave me alone for once in your life? I'm fine as I am." Mitchie replied shakily, sitting down against her bed.

"That's a lie." Connie's own eyes began to water as she looked down at what was now a mere shadow of her once so joyful daughter.

"It's not," Mitchie mumbled.

Her voice cracked and she felt instantly guilty.

It was a lie, of course it was. She lived for music; it had always been the thing that she had turned to when everything else started to collapse around her; it had always helped her through.

But not this time.

She couldn't do it anymore, she couldn't think of the words or the notes, she couldn't remember what she had once found so wonderful and inspirational about music. She couldn't remember what she had once found so wonderful and inspirational about friendship either, or about life itself.

There was nothing left to look forward to now. It was truly like she had come a full one hundred and eighty degrees from her former self; life's hardships had changed her. She wasn't the same person anymore.

"Mitchie, can't you see what you're doing to yourself, what you're doing to your family?" Connie questioned tenderly, kneeling in front of Mitchie and smoothing the hair from her eyes. "Please, just do this for me Mitchie, me and your father."

Mitchie looked up her mother, her eyes now overflowing with tears and she bit her lip, her mind whirring through all the possibilities.

"Please?" Connie repeated, her eyes hopeful.

Mitchie took a deep breath, her hands shaking at the mere prospect of facing her old friends. "Ok," she finally whispered, dipping her head once more. "Ok."

Connie rose up thankfully and placed a loving kiss upon her fragile daughter's cheek.

"I'll give you some time and then I'll help you pack, sweetie," Connie promised as she turned away, a relieved sigh escaping her lips.

Mitchie merely nodded. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed tightly as she tried to get her head around what she had just agreed to. Blood pumped furiously through her veins.

"Thank you," Connie whispered as she disappeared, closing the door behind her.

As soon as she heard the footsteps fade away Mitchie threw herself against the bed, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She shoved her guitar forcefully off of the bed, taking pleasure in the dull thud that resounded as it hit the floor.

Mitchie was forced to stop as the memories crashed into her mind, regret overwhelming her as she remembered how she had treated her mother over the past months. Tears stung her eyes. She tittered backwards, her legs feeling weak beneath her at the memories of her time away from camp.

She leant up against a tree for support, struggling to hold back the tears.

The past was behind her; it was nothing but memories now. This was the last time she would let herself be overcome by these emotions.

"Where are we going?"

Mitchie's heart clenched as the familiar voice hit her eardrums. Her throat felt raw. She spun around and let out a small, soundless sigh as she realised that he wasn't talking to her. He couldn't even see her, the large trunk was blocking her from view.

"Where are we going, Nate?"

Fresh tears splashed against Mitchie's cheeks, and she balled her fists to stop herself from sobbing. She hadn't realised that just hearing his voice would have such an effect on her. With a quick prayer she shimmied around the tree, her breath haggard at the fear of being seen. She knew she would have to face him sometime, but she couldn't do it yet. She was too fragile, too vulnerable at the moment.

The last thing she wanted was to burst into tears in front of Shane Grey. No. That couldn't happen. She needed time to prepare.

Mitchie sank down against the tree as she heard the two voices get quieter, the footsteps dying out as the pair retreated. She hadn't realised how much she had missed Shane.

Every inch of her wanted to scream his name, to be enveloped in his strong, protective arms, to have him calm her and make everything okay again.

But she knew that that wasn't even an option, not now.

Mitchie turned her head to her buzzing alarm, her lifeless eyes acknowledging the flashing time that lit the room in an ominous green glow. She wasn't sure why she continued to set her alarm; she hardly ever slept, and even when she did, she was plagued with nightmares that would soon awaken her from her murderous slumber.

Mitchie wiped a hand over her eyes. She rose from her bed, crossing the room towards the tempting glass of water that rested on the other side.

She grunted as her foot crashed against a small, hard object on the floor. With a muttered curse she knelt down, picking up the cell phone that had lay forgotten for so long. It looked almost foreign to her now.

Mitchie pressed the on button and watched as the phone buzzed and glowed, receiving message after message and voicemail after voicemail.

Oops.

She had promised to call her friends, to keep in contact with them after she had left Camp.

But fate had intervened, and it had affected her so deeply that she had completely forgotten about what she had promised. Mitchie held the phone to her ear hesitantly….the first few messages were simple and light-hearted.

"Hey Mitch, it's Caitlyn. I miss you already! Give me a call, we need to meet up, love you."

"Mitchie. How's things? Guess what? I made a birdhouse, it's awesome, you have to come see it. Well give me a call back when you get this. Bye. Oh, it's Jason by the way!"

Mitchie felt the urge to smile at the sound of Jason's sweet sing-song voice, but she just didn't have the energy. She couldn't remember the last time she had smiled anymore, she didn't even know if she could remember how to smile.

She felt her heart begin to pound in her chest as the messages started to vary with intensity; some people stopped calling all together, some even questioned if this was her real number.

But two people remained throughout, leaving messages almost daily, begging her to call them back: Shane and Caitlyn, her two best friends from Camp.

Once they had tired of leaving messages on her cell phone, they had tried ringing her home number. It took all of the persuasiveness in Mitchie's body to convince her mother to lie to them and say that she was out. Every time they called, Connie had reluctantly told them the same thing: She's away at the moment, Shane. Oh, sorry, she's at her friend's house today, Caitlyn.

Mitchie felt her empty stomach course with an explosion of agony as she listened to the last message.

"Hi Mitchie, It's Shane, again. I-erm-I don't really know what to say anymore. I thought perhaps this wasn't your actual number at first, but I know that if that was true you would at least answer your home phone. I don't know why you're doing this, but I'm worried Mitchie, I just want to know if you're okay. Please, if you get this, please just ring me. Once I know you're all right I'll stop annoying you with my phone calls if that's what you want. I spoke to Caitlyn and I hear you're doing the same thing to her. We're really worried, Mitch. Just please give us a call? I hope you're ok, I really do. We're your friends, so give us a chance. It's been so long and we haven't heard a word from you, so I... I really don't know anymore, Mitchie. Bye."

Mitchie looked down at the phone as the message finished, her thumb hovering over the call button. She sighed and tossed the phone under the bed. She couldn't do it. She couldn't tell him what had happened.

What would he say?

It didn't matter anyway. She didn't care anymore. She didn't need them.

Mitchie Torres knew it was time. She gathered herself together, pulling herself up from her place upon the floor, rubbing down her ripped, loose fitting jeans and her baggy sweat-shirt. She ran a harried hand through her hair and took a step forward.

It wasn't far now.

Her feet dragged her to the place where she knew her best friend would be. Ex best friend, she reminded herself sadly.

It took a while for her shaking limbs to get her to the steps that led to her cabin. Her pulse started racing as she placed one quivering hand upon the door knob and pushed the door open.

She couldn't hear anything. There was a shallow silence.

Maybe Caitlyn wasn't there yet. Maybe she wasn't coming at all.

Mitchie felt a small buzz of excitement at the thought of not having to deal with a confrontation, but it quickly evaporated as her trembling legs led her into the cabin.

Three faces were staring at her in disbelief.

Great, Mitchie thought sarcastically as she looked over at not only Caitlyn but Shane and Nate as well.

Neither said a word, all their mouths hung open and an awkward silence filled the room.

Mitchie shifted nervously on the spot as three pairs of eyes latched onto hers. She tore her gaze away, forcing her weak body to move over to the bed. She kept her eyes down, placing her bag on the floor and beginning to unpack her stuff.

"Not even a hello?" Caitlyn asked, her voice thick with disdain. Mitchie froze. "I'm really glad our friendship means so much to you," Caitlyn said bitterly. Mitchie spun around, her eyes wide. What was she on about? Of course it had meant something to her!

"Well, I'm guessing it meant just as much as ours did," Shane added, throwing a sympathetic smile towards Caitlyn who was now standing next to Nate, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Look, I really really don't want to be here okay, so can you please just get off of my back?" Mitchie snapped, stunning herself and the three other cabin occupants with her unnaturally harsh tone. "Can we please just forget about everything?" Mitchie pleaded, her voice taking on a softer, more fragile edge.

"Just forget that you completely dismissed your friendship with everyone?" Caitlyn spat. "Why should we?"

"Caitlyn's right," Shane added. "You haven't even apologised for ignoring our calls. You're alive and well, aren't you? I don't see any reason why you couldn't have even sent us a text," he finished, his eyes clearly showing the pain that he felt.

"I'm sorry," Mitchie whispered.

A long silence followed.

"Why did you do it, Mitchie? Did you even have a reason?"

She bit down on her lower lip, unsure of how to reply.

"No," She lied finally. "I... I didn't." She wanted them to forgive her, she truly did, but she couldn't stand the pain that retelling the horrific events would bring her. Months had passed since that fateful day, but it was all still too agonizingly fresh for Mitchie.

"Then…apology not accepted," Shane replied quietly, shaking his head. He moved back to stand beside a stony faced Caitlyn.

"Fine!" Mitchie snapped, unable to contain the anger that was suddenly threatening to explode within her.

She had to get out of there.

She barged past the staunch trio and ran through the front door, leaving it gaping open behind her.

Her feeble legs pulled her hastily through the grounds of Camp Rock, finally stopping when they reached the dock. The misery subsided for a brief second as she relived the fond moments that she had had in the area.

The suffering quickly returned as she let herself fall against the floor, her back resting upon an overturned canoe. Mitchie quickly broke the promise to herself and let the tears rack through her broken body, much like they had done so many times over the previous months.

Her body now seemed almost immune to the agony that coursed through her, but her heart still felt empty, and that feeling of loss kept the tears flowing freely over her pale cheeks.

She didn't need her friends. She didn't need anyone; not her mother, not Brown. She didn't need this stupid Camp either.

They had thrown her friendship in her face, they had left her alone, and she didn't care anymore.

Deep down she knew that they wouldn't have reacted in that way if they knew what she had been through, if they knew of the tragedy that had ripped her apart piece by piece.

But it was too late for friendship and words of comfort now.... Mitchie Torres was already broken beyond repair.

A/N: We had a lot of fun writing this together, and we can assure you that there is A LOT more drama (And romance!) to come.

Please review and tell us what you thought of it, it would make our day =)

Do you think we should continue?

Thanks!

Hugs,

Emma and Kacee.

PS: Don't worry, I am still writing Harder To Breathe. Emma and I just came up with this idea for a story and decided we had to post it. ;)