A/N: I know it's been a long time, and I am so sorry for the delay. Unfortunately for me and my bank account, my computer is now pretty worthless. It got a whole bunch of viruses and infections that it had to be reformatted and I lost everything. I mean everything. And even now it is semi functional, so i'll try and get the new stuff out as soon as I can. I'm working on getting a newer better laptop. I hope you all like this next chapter, it's in Peyton's POV so it's a little change. Let me know what you think and thanks to all who have reviewed!

--Remember Yesterday--

(Peyton's POV)

She's still here.

After everything I've done, everything I've told her, she's still here.

I've tried so hard to push her away – but she stayed.

She's stayed…with me…for me.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want her to leave, but I can't help but think that all I'll ever do is drag her down, that I'm no good for her.

God, I have loved Brooke for so long, probably as long as I have known her.

And I really, truly fell in love with her so many years ago…and I do love her, so deeply and entirely, and with everything I have.

But I cause her so much pain. Sometimes I just can't get over that.

So do I reach a point where I just say that I have to let her go, for both our sakes? Or do I let her help me, do I let myself take away from all she could be doing and be right now?

Do I make a point to not push her away, to let her be, of her own accord, let her make her choice, knowing she'd stay?

Do I push away the only person who knows me?

Or do I hold onto that last connection, that love, like it truly is the only good thing in my life – which it is – do I hold on like I want to, need to, like she says she wants me to?

As much as I hate myself, as much as I feel like I am bringing her down, as much as I don't want to…I will.

I'm going to try and trust her fully, to try and let her in more, to just let her do what she wants, because it's what I want.

Because I would have died two years ago if I didn't have the beacon of hope that Brooke has been for me, even when she didn't know it.

……………………………………………

She's sleeping right now, exhausted from yet another day of dealing with me.

And, well, I'm somewhat of an insomniac, it is three in the morning after all.

Last night, God, the look on her face was so heartbreaking after I broke down and told her about the cutting. I don't even know what made me do it. I've just been feeling so down, so off, and it just came out.

I just let it out.

And I asked her to protect me, because I didn't trust myself.

Because I know I can trust her, always have.

Later on, when I showed her the scars that haunted me the most, the ones that were put there by someone other than me, I can't even tell you how broken she looked, for how broken I was.

And we cried.

Those scars that line the inside of my upper thighs, the scars that tell of a struggle, they are what make me want to drink, to snort a line of coke, to cut up my arms so much just so I will never remember or have to see them again.

These are the things that haunt me.

The things I don't know if I can share with her, because I don't know how, because I don't know if I want her to know all of the bad things.

But I share with her what I can, because I know she is trying so hard to help me, and I need to try too.

I know I need to try.

I really, really need to try, for the both of us.

And I need to remember that.

……………………………………………………

Those years I was gone, sometimes I think it's better that there is a lot I don't remember. From what I do know and can recall, I really hope I never learn of the things that are lost.

Because I do remember a hell of a lot of alcohol.

I do remember a hell of a lot of drugs, too.

And I remember abusive boyfriends and 'friends' who would look the other way or didn't even give a damn enough to care. And if they did care…who am I kidding, no one cared. At most they would have been slightly uncomfortable by what went on. No one would so much as raise an eyebrow at the sounds of arguing and obvious cruelty. No, they knew I was being beaten.

I remember no one cared.

I remember not being able to remember.

I remember drinking more and taking more drugs just so I could make it through the physical and emotional pain from those 'boyfriends.'

I remember the pain.

I remember going to sleep at night – sometimes in a bed, in a shelter, once or twice in a jail cell, in a hospital bed, in a run down apartment with several other strung out people, in an alley – and thinking about my old life, wishing I could go back. Praying that if I could just make it through the night, that I would pull myself together and get clean, get sober, get home.

I remember begging and pleading with myself, with God, with alcohol, with my life to just survive a little longer, just so I could see Brooke again, because she was all I really wanted.

I remember clinging to that notion of someday - someday it would happen.

I remember promising myself so many things, only to forget, to never follow through, to back down. To then remembering and hating myself all over again.

I remember being thrown away like trash, and given away like I was someone's possession. Like I was someone's discarded play thing.

And what I remember the most…is that I gave up.

I remember that.

I remember that far more clearly that I wish I did and with too much detail to ever hope to forget.

I can't tell you what it does to me to remember that.

The feeling of someone's hands so rough against my skin tearing at my clothes and flesh. Being held down and struggling against such weight. Ripping buttons and seams, scraping skin and releasing blood. Leaving permanent reminders behind of what no one ever wants to remember.

The massive amounts of alcohol I so desperately went through that night did nothing to erase that pain.

All these things I do remember, I wish were gone. They remain in my head, like some bad nightmare, but they are real. That was my life, for three years.

I know, because I remember.

And if all of that is what I can remember, well I'm glad that there are so many gaps and holes in which time has passed and I have no memory.

Because I don't want to remember.

I am so thankful for that loss of memory.

Probably more thankful than I should be.

……………………………………………

It's morning now.

I've been up most of the night, I think I'll try and sleep some now, before she wakes.

Brooke is already taking on so much dealing with me and all I'm going through right now, she doesn't need to know I've been having trouble sleeping too; she doesn't need more things to worry about.

I just hope everything turns out for the best, I don't think I could take much more devastation in my life right now.

I'm barely hanging on as it is.

But at least on the somewhat bright side, I know I am far better off than I would be either alone or not having the foundation rehab gave me.

As much as I am struggling, as much as it seems I'm headed off the deep end, I still know I'm slowly getting better, I'm slowly becoming grounded and getting back to my old self.

So as I feel I am hanging by a thread, I know, believe, that I am also reaching with all the strength in the world in the right direction, to my safety, my heaven, to life.

And I know this because I have Brooke supporting me. I have my faith in myself and the positives I have gained in the past year. I have my life. And right now, that's more than I thought I'd have not so long ago.

A/N: Again, hit me with some feedback and I'm working at getting a new chapter up to snuff and to you as soon as I can, sorry for the delay.