Oh hai guys! It seems my almost constant case of writers block just might be letting up. Thank fuck for that. Once again, thank you all for the reviews, faves, suggestions, read throughs, nicknames ect.

Chapter 2

After a few weeks under observation, I was allowed to go but I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt over what had happened with Josh. In a way, he was right but I never could have told anyone. No one would have understood the pain and self disgust that I concealed beneath the surface for so many years. No, I could never have told anyone how I felt, no matter how much it killed me. To me, the reasons were clear. It all began when I first joined the Paramore. Things were pretty messed up from the get go. My parents had wanted me to be the star and didn't approve of me joining a rock group. My stupid manager who my parents had hired to 'elevate my status as an artist' wanted to sign me as a solo artist even though I clearly loved the band. They signed me behind the guys' backs despite my angry protests. No one listened to a word I said but then, who's going to listen to a teenage girl when there's money to be made. Instead, everyone blamed me whenever something went wrong. It was always 'my fault' in some way or another and after six years I honestly couldn't take anymore.

That was when I first tried drugs. To start with, I was cautious, my morals were screaming in protest, telling me that I was toying with something that could ruin my life or worse, end it but after a while I managed to silence my incredibly guilty conscience and I lapsed into addiction. The highs were awesome; they helped me to forget the pain of daily life and allowed me to feel free. Coming down on the other hand was terrible. The drugs would wear off to quickly and I would feel depressed and even suicidal for weeks on end. I pushed away the people who were willing to help and locked myself away in vain attempt to keep the misery at bay. I forgot my family and neglected my friends. I gave up on everything that had once meant the world to me. One of those things was Josh.

He'd loved me once, just once back when we where kids. He held me, kissed me, told me he loved me and the next he slipped away without another word. For a while, I tried to convince myself he still cared but I gave up eventually. It was like he had traded all the love and sensitivity in his soul for bitterness and antipathy. He'd forgotten me but I still had my pain. Now, whenever someone mentioned him, I resisted the urge to lock myself in my room and cry for hours. He'd ripped out my still beating heart and thrown it in the dirt and he didn't even notice. I could barely stand to see him for the misery and he was totally oblivious to me.

We'd drifted apart so much since then but in way, I was kind of used to it. It was clear what he thought of me and I wasn't going to push it any further. But on the flip side, I'd found Ryan. We'd met at a signing party for his brothers' band and had been dating for a few years. Ryan was so compassionate and loving. He was funny, honest, supportive and loyal. He never abused me or ignored me like Josh. Plus he played music in his spare time. And yes, as superficial as it is, he was hot. I would have turned to him but he was off on a tour of duty somewhere in North-West Pakistan so aside from a few letters and video calls home, contact wasn't all that frequent. Although I'd begged him not to, he'd signed up after his father had died. I didn't hear much but from the snatches of information I'd received, things were pretty dire and they needed as may men as possible. Things were going as ok as they could in a long distance, low contact relationship until One day I got a letter from the government to say that Ryan was MIA. Some type of bomb had been planted in his province and he'd been trying to rescue children from a nearby school when it detonated.

You see the crying women on TV all the time, the wives with a toddler clinging to their hip, the girlfriends with their arms crossed protectively over their swollen bellies and the mothers, standing silent with a photo of their lost baby. All ironically united in grief. I became one. The pain of the months alone almost drove me insane. Coming home to an empty house, rolling over in bed to find one side neat and un-slept in. Eventually I was told they'd found him. Or his body at least. I only heard half of what was said before it sunk in that he was never coming home and I finally broke down.

"Full military honors…"

"…..Tragic loss."

"Our condolences…"

I don't know how I coped. I think I went into some sort of depressed shock. As if that wasn't bad enough, Paramore seemed to have pretty much disbanded.

Everything I cherished was slowly dying or was gone.

So what do you think? I thought it was a little clichéd what with Ryan dying and all but that's just me. I'll update ASAP.