We stopped in front of a small diner. When I say small, I mean small. There were only a few cars in the parking lot. Rick turned off the engine and pocketed the keys before turning around to face me. I realized then that this was the first time he looked at me face to face. Other times were in the rearview mirror. His eyes seemed fiercer when directed at my own.

"Well…are you coming?" he asked. I sensed a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

I realized that my seatbelt was still on and my arms still crossed. My bag was still up front and I needed to brush my hair.

I unfolded my arms and I heard a couple bones crack. From the corner of my eye I saw him flash a quick grin. I unbuckled myself and began to reach for my bag from around the seat. I couldn't quite reach it. He chuckled (what else is new?) and handed me the bag. I snatched it and brought it to my lap and began rummaging through it. I could tell he went through it because everything was out of place.

"Way to respect a girl's privacy," I grumbled.

"Well, when you find a passed out girl on the street and having no idea what to do with her, you tend to go through her purse to find out where she lived and where to take her."

I looked at him just like he was looking at me. "Whatever, hero."

"Back at ya, princess." He winked for show.

I rolled my eyes and began brushing my hair. I could tell he was watching me. I didn't want to look back up at him, but I did. I saw blue; an electric blue that seemed to pulse my veins and make my heart start to pound against my chest. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. My hands moved on their own, they brushed my hair for me while I was in a trance. My cheeks flared up into a mad blush that worked down to my neck. I couldn't look away, damn it! Deep in his eyes I saw something flash by. It seemed like recognition. But then it was gone and he was moving out of the Jeep. I finished grooming myself and hopped out after him with my bag slung over my shoulder.

When we walked into the diner, the few people there didn't even look up. I preferred it that way, due to the fact that I must've looked like a hobo. I spotted the restroom sign and turned toward Rick, with my head down.

I mumbled out, "bathroom," and waddled into the sanctuary of the room with a large enough mirror to fully inspect myself. Luckily, there was no one else in there, nor did I think anyone would likely come in here.

I looked deep into the mirror noticing the little flaws that were on my skin. There were bruises on my upper arms from where the men held me. I reached into my bag and pulled on my jacket. I examined my head and saw a small cut from when I hit the ground. I almost missed the gash on my forearm, which I didn't know how I would have been able to miss it. It was about a foot long, but didn't seem too deep. I pulled down my sleeve and looked at my face once again.

I was glad I didn't wear makeup anymore. My skin was slightly tan and my freckles were clearly visible. Many people said that I am one of few who look good with freckles, including Danny.

I snarled. That mother fucker. I hate his guts. It's his entire fault.

I turn on the sink and splashed cold water on my face. I placed my face against mirror and banged lightly against the wall.

"I'm so sorry, Andrew."

Andrew Fields, just one of the millions of teens to die in a car crash caused by drunk driving.

And I was the one driving that night.

I will never forgive myself for that.

Danny gave me the keys and I drove. Andrew was in the front. Danny and Chloe, another "friend", were in the back. Thing was, I only had one drink when the rest of them had three or more. One drink and I killed someone. Someone I loved more than anyone (besides Alex) in the world. Chloe got a broken leg. Danny and I walked with just a few scratches.

I was heartbroken about it for weeks. Possibly months, I don't know. He was my first love, and I killed him. His mother was shocked that I came to the funeral. His dad was furious, but Julie, his younger sister, who was only 7, wanted me to stay so they let me.

I tried to apologize, his mother accepted it, but his dad said that he couldn't forgive someone who killed one of his children, the most valuable prize in life.

I was the last one to leave the funeral. Julie left with her parents, but didn't want to let go of my hand. She believed that I was the last remaining piece left to Andrew. I cried the whole night.

My father was harsh on me. He told me that God will forgive me in time. I replied with a few of my favorite words, mainly "fuck" "shit" and "ass".

I didn't care about God anymore. He must not love me because he let me kill the man I love. I began to separate from the group of "friends" and became my own person. I didn't recover until a few weeks ago.

The tragedy happened 7 months 3 weeks and 1 day ago. On the 7th month anniversary, I began to come to the fact that it happened and I needed to get over it.

And I was. I still loved him, but I moved on.

I opened my eyes. The past is the past. I was over it.

I dried my face and glanced in the mirror before leaving the safety of the bathroom and going on with my mission:

To find my other half….

Alex.