Okay. So it has been waaaay long, and I greatly apologize for that. I've had major writer's block. However, a big thank you is due to No Ifs Ands or Maybes not only for being my beta, but also for introducing me to the peppermint trick to getting rid of pesky writer's block. Thanks to her, I'm able to write!! : D Thanks, Millie!!

I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana or any related characters. I own: Hale, Nathan, Julie Truscott, and Michael Truscott.

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Chapter 10- Bitter Taste

April 10

Journal-

My mom came home today. After weeks of her absence hanging in every space of the house, the door opened, and she walked in with divorce papers in one hand, a bag in the other, her eyes tired, her face holding inside of it a difference that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I leaned against the stair banister, my eyes never leaving her as she dropped everything in her hands and shut the door. In her worn out white sneakers, she took cautious steps toward me. Her usually gorgeous blonde hair was pulled out of her face in a messy ponytail, stringy and unhealthy. She finally reached me and pulled me into a tentative hug, trying her best to break through the obvious barrier between us. I hugged her back, only because I had to. I could smell the stench of a hospital on her loose grey sweatshirt that she had paired with old skinny jeans, even though the air was hot and humid outside.

She reluctantly let me go, but led me into the living room where she sat me down on the couch.

"Why didn't you come visit me?" she choked out. Mom never was one to beat around the bush. Then again, neither was I.

"I didn't want to see you." I answered honestly. I watched as her eyes filled with tears. I should have felt something. Some sort of guilt or pain or loss, but I didn't. I didn't feel a thing.

A silence settled around us as she soaked in my brutality. The distant sound of Nathan's music floated in the air, pairing awkwardly with the ticking of the clock and Mom's ragged breathing. I bit my lip.

"Why not?" she finally asked. I stood.

"Because you shouldn't have had to be there in the first place." I hissed through clenched teeth before turning on my heel and walking away.

There was so much more I wanted to say to her. I wanted to scream at her that she should have been here, being a mother. I wanted to tell her that she should have been here because if she had been, then maybe I wouldn't be in the situation that I was in. I wanted to scream in her face every time she'd ever hurt me, every time she had been passed out on the couch, every time she left me. I wanted to yell at her until I couldn't yell anymore, yell at her everything she should have known already.

But I didn't because she didn't deserve that much emotion.

Instead, I found myself in front of Nathan's door, knocking for the first time in weeks. Thankfully, he opened it, tired eyes staring back at me, shining with something I couldn't recall ever seeing before.

"Yes?"

I wanted so badly to hug him right there, to tell him just how much I'd missed him, to tell him I loved him and that he was the best brother I could have ever hoped for. I wanted to tell him everything, wanted him to hold me in his arms and tell me that everything would be okay, just like he used to. I wanted us to be okay again.

But, of course, I didn't say or do any of that.

"Mom's home." I whispered, because I couldn't say anything else. He cocked his head to the side.

"Oh really? Is she drugged up? Drunk? Pregnant with some scum's baby?" he spat. I was slightly taken aback by the venom in his voice. I bit my lip.

"No. She's been in rehab for the past few months. We got a letter. I thought you saw it."

"I did. I just never had enough faith in her to believe that she'd stay clean."

"Well, I guess we won't know that until later, now will we?" I commented. He shrugged.

"Guess not."

The two of us stood in his doorway, music blasting in our ears, for a few more moments before I decided that I needed to say something.

"Hey, Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm back." I whispered, connecting my eyes directly with his. A small smile that I hadn't seen in weeks crept up onto his face, and he pulled me into his arms, a warm embrace I had been missing for much too long. I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in his crisp scent that made me feel like things might get better. Tears slipped out of my eyes right as I felt his falling on my hair. He kissed the top of my head before pulling away. Nathan stepped back into his room, and I followed.

When I saw that his room was just the way I left it, I was more grateful than ever. I needed that, needed that one constant thing. It made me feel as though maybe not everything was changing as much as I thought. Music was still floating in the air, pictures still decorated the walls. Junk still littered the ground, notebooks and books flung randomly on his dresser and desk. A copy of his favorite book, Catcher In the Rye, rested on his perfectly unmade bed.

The only thing that was different was the medium sized TV, satellite, and DVD player sitting on a stand across from his bed. I sent him a look.

"You bought a TV and DVD player?" I questioned. He shrugged.

"I got bored."

"And you took the satellite out of mom and dad's room?"

"I didn't think she'd need it any time soon." he reasoned. I nodded and smiled.

"I'm really glad we could work things out, Nate." I said, because we didn't need words to be okay. We didn't a long talk about everything that had happened to get us to the point we were in these past weeks to be able to be exactly right we were before it happened. We didn't need words to say sorry. We never have.

"Me too, Lils. Me too."

I plopped myself onto his bed, and he sat next to me.

"So, Lilly."

"So, Nathan."

"What have you been up to over these weeks?" he inquired curiously. I froze. I didn't want to lie to Nathan, but there was no way I was going to tell him about..well, about everything I'd been feeling and doing. I settled for telling most of the truth, at least.

"I'm not going to lie, I've been real lonely. Most of the time I spent in my room trying to figure things out. Without you around...I didn't really have much of anyone to talk to about anything. It was hard, but I was alright, don't worry. Things got confusing, between Mom being gone and Dad being gone and us not talking and everything you said to me...I had a lot of thinking to do, and that was really tough for me. Basically, they sucked.

"Other than that, nothing really happened. Miley and I hung out a bit, and I hung out with Hale, too, obviously. But I didn't really do much, so you didn't miss anything. What about you, Nate?" I explained. He shrugged.

"I thought...a lot. Not as much as you, but a bit. I um...I talked to Hale every once in a while, just to see how you were holding up. I hope you don't mind." he answered. I shook my head.

"Not at all."

"Okay. I...I almost visited Mom once. I drove all the way to her rehab, and almost let myself get out of the car...until I realized what I was doing. I know you're going to tell me that it's okay to visit her, but I'm going to stop you before you say it. It's not okay. For those months, she shouldn't have had to be in rehab. She should have been clean, should have been home taking care of us. We shouldn't have had to watch out the window at night and wonder when she was coming home, when we'd finally have a parent around. And even now that she's here...she can't take back what she did. We can't pretend like nothing happened, and I don't even feel like I do have a parent here. I don't even feel like she's my mom anymore." Nathan revealed. He looked up at me, trying to gage my reaction. I nodded.

"Don't worry, big bro. I feel the same way." I whispered to him, letting him know that he needn't feel bad about the way he was feeling. We had a right to feel that way. No one can just forgive their mother after she abandons them for 2 and a half months with not even a father to watch over them.

For the rest of the night, Nate and I watched movie after movie, ignoring the rest of the world for as long as we could. We didn't think about Mom or Dad, we didn't think about the divorce. I didn't think about cutting or anything else I'd been feeling for the past few weeks. Because none if it mattered. All that mattered was me and Nate, here, at that very moment, finally okay.

-Lilly

April 12

Journal-

My mom tried to talk to me today. I don't think she's too excited to try again, after what happened this time, and honestly, I couldn't care less. What I said to her might not have been the most respectful thing to say to my mother, but I guess I'll start giving her respect once she earns it.

My mom and I were at the dinner table. She insisted that both Nate and I were there, but he wouldn't do it, vehemently refused to do so. When she asked him, he said 'no', and then he left. Just like that. He hasn't come back yet, either. So it was just me and her. Awkward, let me tell you. My plan was to eat, then get the hell out of there, but she had other plans.

"What did your brother leave, Lils?" she inquired. I resisted the urge to tell her not to call me that.

"Maybe he didn't want to spend time with his crack addict of a mother." I mumbled under my breath.

"What did you just say?"

I set my fork down on my plate, spaghetti long forgotten.

"I said: maybe he didn't want to spend time with his crack addict of a mother." I answered, clear enough for her to hear. Do I feel guilty about that now? Maybe a little. But I can't say she didn't deserve it.

"Okay, you two kids just need to understand that I am your mother, and you need to respect me." she demanded, looking me with tired eyes. I scoffed.

"Oh really? So now you decide to be our mother? After months of leaving us to fend for ourselves, you up and decide to come back and be our mother? Guess what Mom?" I spat, "It doesn't work that way."

"Don't blame me because your dad left us!" she yelled.

"I'm not blaming you because he left! I'm blaming you because you left. You. Left. Right when Nathan and I needed you the very most, you left us alone to get drunk and high and end up in rehab! But did you tell us any of that? Did you tell us where you were? No! You didn't! You let the letter from the Malibu Rehabilitation Center tell us instead of telling us yourself!" I screamed at her with everything I had. She may not have deserved that much emotion from me, she may not have even deserved me screaming at her, but I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just couldn't do it. It hurt much too much.

"That doesn't change the fact that I am your mother." she choked out weakly. I remember laughing with such spite that I can't even believe it.

"Yes it does! Because when I began losing my best friend, I wanted my mother. When Nathan and I got into a huge fight, I wanted my mother. When I missed dad more than I can explain in words, I wanted my mother. When my heart was broken, I wanted my mother." I sighed. "No, I didn't want her. I needed her. I needed my mother more times over the past 2 months than I could ever tell you. But she wasn't here. And now? Now I can't ever get her back. No matter how much you will ever want to, no matter how much I want you to, you can't take back those months. You left us. You left your children, and you lost them. They're gone now, we're gone now." I could see tears streaming down her face, and I could feel them on my own.

"I'm sorry, Lil. I am so sorry." she sobbed. I let out a watery laugh.

"It's too late for apologies."

"If there's one thing I learned in rehab, it's that it's never too late for apologies." she told me hopefully. I shook my head, and I realized that I wish with all my heart that that was true. I wish I could forgive her for what she did to all of us, I wish I could forgive my dad, I wish I could forgive Miley, I wish I could forgive myself, forgive this world, but I can't. I can't do it.

"Yes, it is. You should've been here. You shouldn't have left us for alcohol, for drugs. I shouldn't have had to clean up your broken bottles and spilled Vodka every morning. I'm a teenager. Teenagers don't wake up to the stench of alcohol, don't cover up their mother with blankets as a routine in the morning as they find her passed out on the couch, yet again. They don't have to move her every once in a while because she passes out on the floor or at the kitchen table with a bottle in her hand. Teenagers don't take care of mothers. Mothers take care of teenagers, especially right after they lose their father." I whispered. My voice was strained, but I didn't cry anymore. Not for her. She tried to take my hand then, but I pulled it away. Her dull blue eyes filled with a fresh set of tears. I avoided them, instead focusing on her unkempt, stringy blonde hair.

"And I have to live with that, every single day of my life from here on out. But I'm trying, Lilly. I'm really really trying."

"You should have thought about that before you broke my heart. You should have thought about that before you left."

I left her there then, not looking back.

Now I'm waiting here for Nate. Thinking back on what happened earlier, I don't know if I made the right choice or not. All I know is that she had to know what she did to me, she had to. In came that time where I really just had to tell her how much she hurt me.

She truly did break my heart, you know. My own mother broke my heart. How sad is that?

-Lilly

April 12

Journal-

Nathan came back a little bit ago. I could tell he had been crying, but neither one of us talked about it. He just sat next to me and looked at me. I had pulled him into my arms, letting him cry on my shoulder for once. As I look at him now, I feel sort of guilty.

I...I cut again while I waited for him to come back. I wish I hadn't, but I can't sit here and honestly say that it didn't help, didn't make me feel better.

How lame is that? That I have to use self-mutilation to make this aching thud in my chest go away? I can't even talk about things anymore. I can barely feel, let alone think about it and talk to someone. I just want everything to be okay so badly...and yet it's all falling apart over and over again. Every time I think it's being fixed, it falls apart again. It's all spinning away from me, twisting, turning, running away, and it's all I can do to attempt to stop it, to attempt to make it come back to me. I guess I try and do that by cutting. It helps, as much as I wish it didn't.

I'm going to get some sleep. It's the only place I can go to get away.

-Lilly