Back in Frenchie's car we both shyly exchanged stories. His about discovering I was missing. Living a couple blocks from me, he had to drive by my house to get to school. I would ride with him everyday, but he usually didn't leave his house until I was already in homeroom. More time had passed than I thought. When he drove by my street and saw a cop outside of my house, it was eight o'clock. It made me rethink just how much time I had spent there shivering on my surfboard.

Lighthearted as always, Frenchie narrated how he pulled in to make sure everything was alright and overheard my mom tell the police officer how I had run away. "I couldn't imagine you running any other place" he said explaining his instinct to go straight to the beach house.

It was almost nine by then and we were both missing school. It was of no matter to Frenchie, of course, but he could still have gotten in serious trouble for skipping. I blushed slightly at his kindness.

"I'm glad you're the one that came" I said meaningfully. "Anyone else would have bitched me out."

He just smiled to himself.

There was silence and I knew it was my turn. Frenchie wasn't asking why I ran and I could tell he didn't know. It was polite, but I felt he should have some understanding. So I took a deep breath and, for the first time since I overheard my dad say Heath's name that night, I told my story.

I cried. Cried? No, I bawled. It was embarrassing because I knew that Frenchie would not understand exactly how I felt. But he was silent and listened intently. My heart was opened up in the car and it's a side of me that not everyone sees. And for good reason. Understanding yourself that deeply is hard enough. Expecting someone else to do the same is almost impossible.

"Wow" was all he said. Not mockingly, just expressing he was a tad overwhelmed.

"It's okay that you don't get why it's so important to me," I sniffed a little and swallowed some more tears "But I respect Heath Ledger a lot. You can think it's ridiculous. Maybe your right. But I can't help it at this point."

He didn't say anything in response, but continued to think over my words. I too thought them over and felt there was something more to be said.

"And… I'm really sorry Frenchie." I meant it whole heartedly. I didn't know how to explain how I felt other than that I was just incredibly sorry .

He nodded and continued to stare straight ahead, trying to shake it off. It was unreal to be in that moment. The whole situation was like a dream, pr rather a nightmare. And Frenchie so serious…

For a long time neither of us said anything. I wiped my eyes. They burned from all they had been through that night. Frenchie's face was still contorted in a scowl, thinking it over.

"So, was he crazy? Frenchie asked, curiously.

I looked out the window and up to the blue sky, thinking of Heath. The first image that came to my mind was him laughing and it made my decision easy.

"Not to me." I replied.

The ride home was so much shorter than I had anticipated. Sooner than I would have liked, we arrived in front of the menacing household. Looking at it from his car I took a deep breath and sighed with apprehension.

"Good luck" he said, almost amused, leaning back against the window.

"Thanks" I said sarcastically back to him. Then more silence for a moment when I wanted remain there in the car. "Thank you, I mean" I said searching for words "For everything."

He grinned his goofy grin.

"No problem"

Leaning across the seats, I reached my arms around him. I hugged him tight and appreciated him then more than before. Then I opened the door and walked, yet again, the walk of death.

I stood at my door for almost a minute with soggy eyes of distress as Frenchie flew down the street. Finding some unknown courage, I finally knocked. I heard steps coming and thought to run but my feet were like lead. So there I stood, a sitting duck in the line of fire. Nothing to do to defend myself. To whomever was to open the door, I was at their mercy.

My mother got there first. A phone in her hand and a face so red and distraught, it shocked me. For a moment I waited for the flames as we stared at one another. Her hand started to shake so violently the phone slipped out and dropped on the floor between us. And over top of it, her arms grabbed me in an embrace I never thought I would feel from my mother.

"Thank god," she wept "Your safe!"

I bawled too, hearing those words. It's one of the most tragic things that has happened in my short 15 years of life. Yet something made me want to hit pause right there. Love, I thought. My mother loved me.

The sky was florescent pink. And the ocean was louder than normal. Shannon and I sat at the dock discussing my new boyfriend, General McClellan. Apparently Shannon had set us up and I was happy. But then, she asked what Heath would think. I had forgotten about Heath. How could I forget? This was a disaster, truly a disaster.

Just then as I stood up to leave, I turned around and there he was. Heath in the living flesh! My body grew warm and butterflies; attacked with such flutters I couldn't help but smile. But then they brought anxiousness as well. What was he doing here?

"Liza," he said my name with his beautiful Austrailian accent. "How could you do this to me?"

"Do what?" I asked oblivious.

"Date General McClellan. I thought you loved me."

"I do!" I shouted. How could I not?

"Then why-"

"You were dead!"

"Do I look dead now? Hmm? I thought you would wait for me."

I was starting to get scared. The look in his eyes. His words- they weren't things he would say.

"I'm sorry" I apologized vainly.

"Oh" he smiled in such a malicious way. "No need to be sorry."

"What?" I asked, bewildered looking up at his gorgeous face with frightened eyes.

"You look scared…" he said with such pleasure I backed up a step. I couldn't believe it. Heath was in my grasps and I was backing up.

"Why so serious?" he asked innocently.

My heart beat through my chest. Where was Shannon? I had to go. This wasn't Heath. He wasn't acting like him. He was someone else. I had to get out of there, I had to-

Turning around Shannon stood with the same evil smile that was imprinted on Heath's face. She knew. She planned this!

I turned back to Heath and he grabbed my cheeks. His touch burned with the desire I always had for him to touch me so, but also with the evil in his grasp. He took a knife from his back pocket and lightly traced my lips sending shivers of distress throughout my body. The Dark Knight trailer. Oh my gosh this was it. He was going to what the Joker did in the trailer.

"Why so serious?" he asked more deviously this time, exactly like the clip I had seen.

I screamed.

And just then he left me alone again. The sounds of the ocean were obliterated by my scream piercing silence. The pink sky was matched with the darkness of my room. Heath's hands were replaced by my own, pushing hair away and wiping my sweaty face.

I panted heavily and shifted in my bed just to make sure I was really where I thought I was. Home. I was safe.

I checked the glowing clock by my bed. It was 11 p.m. I had been asleep for fourteen hours. It was crazy. My body still felt very much apart of the bed. But my stomach had a mind of its own. With a hungry growl I knew I needed to be up. I shook my head and tried to breathe. It was only a dream.

And thank god! General McClellan? The doofus Civil War general? Really?

I walked to the kitchen with the stumble of sleepiness; rubbing my eyes, yawning, and squinting in the bright light. Hazily I grabbed the goldfish box and sat down at the counter. I was shoveling them in by the hand full when mom walked into the room.

Instinctively I put up my guard. For a fleeting moment I even thought she was coming to take back what she said. But she quietly poured some tea and took a seat next to me. I'm not going to lie. It was odd.

There was a moment of silence as she sighed and pulled back some of her dark hair from her tired face. She stared into her tea with a look of 'where to begin?'.

"My mother was spontaneous and brave. A free spirit." she began telling a story I didn't quite comprehend the purpose of. It was rather random, I thought, as she continued. "One time, when I was about 8, she took me to Hollywood without any planning or maps. Just her memory of the last time she went there- 5 years prior"

I crunched my goldfish slower, listening attentively. She stared aimlessly into her cup.

"It wasn't too uncommon for her to just take off somewhere. She was fearless…" her voice trailed off. "But one time she left and didn't come back."

Mom took a sip of her tea and swallowed hard. I stopped chewing and kept a fixed glance on her.

Oh god, I thought. What had I done?

"I was only 11 at the time. From then on, I grew up with my father telling me that I would be as reckless as her someday. That I would hurt anyone who loved me." A tear strolled down her cheek though she continued to talk seriously, and strong. "But I understood. He loved her more than anything and she left him without a care in the world."

Then she turned to me and put her hand on mine, reminding me it was there. My lip started to tremble under her broken expression. I never knew about any of this, or my grandparents at all. Only that my grandfather had died before I was born.

"Liza," she addressed "I know what I say and do isn't always caring. But no matter what happens, you have to promise me that you'll never run away again. Okay?" she asked fiercely. Suddenly, I understood so many things and I wept for my suffering mother. I shook my head as tears streamed out. Both of us crying now, she wrapped me in her arms. Twice in one night.

The nightmares continued for a few nights. It was soon hard to tell fantasy and fear from the truth. So eventually I had to find out for myself. I had to see what I avoided so much at the time of his death. Therefore, for the first time I could think of, I went to find some answers.

What I found was about half comforting, half disturbing. On news casts on Youtube, they said he was super fidgety, anxious, sick, and sleepless. Some people called his death a mystery; some called it punishment for drugs or his role in Brokeback Mountain. Some articles miswrote of how he killed himself. It angered and scared me to the bone. How could people put such things out there? It hurt that they actually believed it. But what hurt the most was when they got me to believe it too, even for the slightest second. It was shocking.

On the contrary, there were so many people out there who loved him. I found pictures of his precious daughter Matilda and interviews before he died where his laughter just melted my soul. Celebrities spoke kind words for him and I didn't feel so alone.

After a couple hours doing this, I just sat there and smiled at a Heath poster on my wall. No matter what I read, I was still in love. It seemed no matter how bad people made his final moments on Earth seem, his goodness still overruled. This picture of him grinning reminded me of the Heath that always brought such happiness. He always seemed to be the fix for everything. He even helped me deal with his own death. I knew then, that just that grin alone would help me overcome anything.