Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana.

Miley's POV:

I heard his giant footsteps tap against the floor, and he eventually sat down on a plastic chair. I just squeezed my eyes tight, knowing that I was only in the same position I'd been earlier that week.

Hiding.

"Miley?" I heard him say in his gruff voice. "You awake?"

I didn't budge or let out a peep.

"Oh." My father said after a while of no response.

"I just wanna say…I'm sorry, darlin'. I don't know where I've been these past few days. It's just been so…hectic around. With your, er—aunt and all. I'm truly, very very sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could do more, and go back and be a better father."
He heaved a huge sigh, and I could easily visualize his shoulders going up and down.

"Miley…bud, I know that I'm not like your mother. I never will be. But I can try to fill her place. I know I can never really do that, but we'd have an even bigger hole in our lives than we already do know if I didn't even try. I know it's hard without her. I feel the pain everyday, and I'm just trying to fix things up instead of mope all over. I'm sorry if you feel that I'm not good enough, but I've got to be the best I can be because there's nothing else. It may be sad or disappointing, but it's the truth.

I haven't been doing much this week. I'll admit that. I haven't been a good father. I regret that. I need to be the best support system I can be for you and your brother. I want you to succeed and grow to be something great. We were lucky to have Hannah. Now I need to help you with that. And I will help Jackson along too, trying to get him to the best of his abilities. It just might be hard for you to understand and all right now…."

Should you forgive him, Miley? Should you forgive your poor, poor father? No. Because he caused you suffering. He caused you pain; all kinds of it. Any kind out there. He made you hurt yourself. Look at you. Now. You're a mess. Secretly dating with Jake, what the heck is that?; the murderer, who is surely going to kill Jake or you in the long run; bulimia, ooh ooh, you're never gonna win that one; your father, no need for comments; oh and so many more things. Oh, and yeah? What about your failing grades? Sure to plaster a smile on your father's face, that one it will. Or are you going to forgive him? Or just keep quiet now, as he doesn't know you're awake? Tsk, tsk, tsk, Miley. Whatcha gonna do?

I could hardly hear my father's voice as another evil voice in my head drowned his out.

Hide?!

I squeezed my eyes tight until tears sneaked out and slid down my face.

You've just been hiding.

Hiding from your problems.

Hiding from your life.

Hiding from you.

And what good is that going to do?

It ain't getting you nowhere.

Look around. You're still here.

You won't be going anywhere anytime soon.

And for some reason, the voice like laughed. Like evilly.

Or ever.

I balled up my hands into fists, and locked in my whole body tightly, all at once, as if like a shield to make the mean voice in my mind go away. My whole body shook, and I heard my father say suddenly with a jolt, "You okay Miley?"

And by instinct, I replied, "Sorry, I dunno what happened." I covered my mouth suddenly, realized I'd spoken, and then having given up, I turned around and faced him after wiping my eyes and face good. Real good. No way would someone see me crying now. Especially my own father. Talk about embarrassing and then nosy.

"Oh good. You finally turned around to talk to me." My dad didn't smile.

"How—?" I inhaled speechlessly.

"I'm your very own father. How can I not know my very own daughter? I'm not from planet Fru-Fru, you know." He didn't wink.

"That's why you made that speech," I said aloud to myself.

"There you go, Miles," he said, patting me lightly on my forearm. "Forgive me?"

Should you forgive him Miley? For what he did to you? Huh? Huh? Does he deserve it? Does he? Look what you've done to yourself. Was it worth it? To just forgive him now?

So I didn't say anything. For a long time. It could have been one minute, maybe ten, but either, way it felt really long. Stretched.

"Okay, then. Think on it. For now. Listen…I'm gonna go to the little gift shoppe down the stairs to get a card for your aunt. You know…must send my regards and all. So…."

Then it struck me. Amanda was another one of my "problems". Sadly. But not in a big way. Jealousy. But I needed to smooth things out with her. It would make things a whole lot easier, Jake dating Amanda and all. And what a better way then…?

In no time, my father and me were wandering around the gift shoppe, and poking curiously around at different cards.

We hardly talked. It was awkward. I just walked up and down the card aisle, hands behind my back, and peering at all the cards.

After five minutes, my father tapped me on my shoulder.

"Bud, I found a card…I'm going to pay now. So, you got yours?"

I surveyed the mini display on the wall of cards before answering, "Almost done. I'll be quick."
And then I found a nice one that was lavender and baby blue, and chose that one.

I ran up to my dad at the register, and said swiftly, "Got it."

He paid for them, and then I grabbed my card in a little plastic baggy and walked hastily back to my room.

"Bye bud. I think the doctors need to check up on you one more time, and then you can go home. I got to run though. Errands. I'll see you later, kiddo." Robbie Ray hustled out of my room after seeing I was all right and situated.

I snuggled under the warm fleece covers, and closed my eyes soundly.

Peace.

Ahhh...The nice voice was on.

I inhaled and exhaled easily. I tried to control my breathing as best as I could, and counted softly in my head.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10…

Maybe if I stayed calm like this long enough all my problems would disappear.

Yeah right. You know they won't. No matter how many times you tell yourself, you're never gonna get better. Give up already. I mean, seriously. You've screwed up too many times. It's not gonna get better. Trust me. I've seen soooooo many idiot girls like you bust their selves like this. LOL, pitiful.

I scrunched up my face again with anger. Why couldn't I get that stupid voice out of my head? No matter how many times it tried to bring me down, I still fell for it. It was a trap; it almost felt like I had no choice. Tears fell down my eyes, and I tried to sob silently, but I found myself shaking with fear and self-pity.

And then I felt two long arms weave around me, and press my head to their chest. He scooted in my bed, and pulled me on his lap, but I just didn't care. I didn't care that someone could possible see us.

We stayed like that in silence for a while, Jake just stroking my hair. It felt like we were back where we started. Sort of.

"I love you, Miley. Screw the murderer. You matter more to me," Jake whispered.

I didn't say anything. I just listened to Jake's rhythmic breathing in my ear.

"How'd you know I was here?" I asked quietly after a long time.

"I came to visit Amanda. And I saw Lilly and Oliver. And they said you were here. And I don't care if I get killed or whatever, I needed to see you."

"Jake…." I started.

"Listen, Miley. I told Amanda that we had a murderer threatening us. And…she agreed to pose with me as my girlfriend. She's helping us out. She knows I want you. I don't care how bad this makes me look in front of her, or anyone. I really don't care about that. You know I only care about you." Jake finished, his arms still around me, and still stroking my hair.

Then suddenly he stopped stroking my hair.

His heart beating next to mine seemed to halt suddenly. And because of that, mine too.

"What?" I asked him, not even really wanting to know.

"Just—it's just…. Miley—" Jake took both of his arms and squeezed me tight.

"What?" I asked impatiently again.

A/N: OMG I GOT SOOOOOOO MANY NEW READERS!!!!!!!! THANKS A BUNCH TO EVERYONE!!!!!! I hardly thought anyone would want to read this because it had so many chapters, but yay!!! I actually got more readers. Thank you to everyone!!!!!!