Lucas stood behind the counter of the café, his mind a million miles away as he rung up the ticket from yet another customer. Missing was his normal friendly smile and joking demeanor that endeared the patrons. In its place, was a sullen, dazed young man lost in a sea of his own worried thought process.

"Thanks, have a nice day", he recited without an ounce of feeling.

The last place he wanted to be was at the café. In fact, he had no idea where he wanted to be but he knew it didn't involve being around a bunch of people. He needed to go someplace where he could be alone, wrap his head around the events that had unexpectedly plagued him just a few hours before in the still of the night. Lucas closed his eyes for a brief second. He could still see the shiny and sharp tip of the knife's blade barreling toward his Adam's Apple. And he could still see that look in her eye. An animalistic look that was hard to even describe. He had never seen Peyton like that.

He had grabbed her wrist and after a few seconds, it was like she slowly came back into her own body. He felt her arm loosen its grip in his. Her eyes retreated back to their normal selves. With her breathing coming in radical spurts, Peyton let go completely, letting the knife drop on the bed in the space between them. Lucas had carefully remained still for a few minutes before getting up, knife in tow, and walking around towards her side of the bed. He searched in silence for more weapons but found none. His girlfriend sat up, long tanned legs hanging over the edge of the bed, head down.

"Peyton," he had whispered.

But she had said nothing, instead shaking her head, tears slipping from her eyes. He gently touched her knees with his hands, moving them up her thighs until he could hold her smaller hands in his. But he stopped short. He caught a glimpse from the inside of her thigh as he moved his hand to separate her legs. Lucas gasped in horror at the ghastly sight. There were marks, dozens of them, some superficial, some deep. All self inflicted wounds.

"My God, Peyt! What is going on with you? Babe…baby, wh…what are you doing? Please. Talk to me," he practically begged.

It was of no use. She simply brushed him away, standing and pushing past him, running over to a corner in the room where she curled up in the fetal position and wept. And that is how they had remained. Lucas hadn't slept a wink since. All he could do was sit on the floor beside her bed in sorrow and disbelief. All he could do was watch her cry and drift off into short fits of restless slumber. When it had been time to leave for the early shift, he had debated whether or not to leave her there at all. But what could he do? She wouldn't even talk to him. And apparently it was not something that had just started. Despite the smiles and assurances that she was okay and ready to move on, it was now crystal clear that Peyton Sawyer was anything but okay.

"Lucas, can I get another cup of coffee, son?" Earl one of Karen's morning regulars asked from his counter seat.

"Huh?" Lucas asked distracted. "Oh. Um, yeah. Sure man."

He took the mug and turned to fill it from the steaming coffee pot but with an unsteady gait and zero concentration, the piping hot liquid spilled all over his bare hand.

"Lucas, are you okay?" Dottie, one of the waitresses rushed to his aid.

"Shit!" Lucas screamed out loud in pain. "I'm okay, it's okay. Earl, sorry about that. I'll get you another cup…"

"It's okay," Dottie nodded. "I'll get it. Why don't you take a break, honey? Go in the back and take care of that."

Lucas sighed without argument. The pain only registered for a few minutes. Collapsing in a chair in his mother's cramped office space, he once again tried to gather his thoughts. He sat there for what felt like forever until there was a knock on the door before the person on the other side invited themselves in.

"Dottie, I'm fine. I'll be back out there in a minute."

"Hey," a voice spoke softly.

It wasn't Dottie.

"Peyton…"

She took a seat in the chair beside him, gently touching his shoulder.

"Are you alright? Dottie said you burned your hand."

"It's nothing," he mumbled.

"Let me see it."

"Peyton!" he raised his voice angrily jerking away.

She recoiled, not used to seeing that side of her boyfriend.

"I, I just came down to see if you needed any help. Then I thought maybe we could have some lunch, you know, hit up the record store later."

Lucas stared up at her in disbelief.

"Are you serious right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is that what you really came here for? Did you really want to help out this morning and spend the rest of the day just hanging out?"

Peyton shrugged and smiled.

"Yeah…um, what's wrong with that?"

Lucas laughed out loud. He couldn't help it. He laughed in spite of himself, in spite of the situation. He had to laugh at her.

"I can't believe it," he shook his head. "I can't believe you."

"What?"

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, huh? I guess I should have known."

"Luke, what are you talking about?"

"Look at you. You know what, Peyton? I don't get it. I don't get you. And I don't even know if I should keep trying to figure it out anymore."

"Lucas…"

"I get that you have been through a lot. It was hell for you, a living nightmare. I won't even pretend to know how horrible that was for you. God, Peyt, you're only human. I mean, who could go through that sort of thing and not come out messed up?"

"Luke…"

"It's normal," he ignored her. "You're not okay. How could anyone expect you to be okay. This is all my fault. I failed you."

"What are you saying?" she asked softly.

"You need help, Peyton. You need real help, not the kind I, we've been giving you. I believed you. I believed it when you said you were fine. I, I thought it was over. I guess I wanted it to be. It would be easier for you that way, hell as selfish as it sounds, easier for me too, I guess…"

"About last night…"

He looked her in the eye.

"Yeah Peyton. What about it? Because we seriously need to talk about it."

"I'm sorry," she looked away.

"You don't have to be sorry. I'm not mad at you but you do need help."

"It's not what you think."

"Then what the hell is it? I mean, please explain it to me."

"I had a stupid nightmare."

"Nightmares are one thing. I've had them before, we all have but I have never woken up with a butcher's knife in my hand ready to slit someone's throat."

"You're making a big deal about nothing. Why are you being so dramatic?" Peyton muttered defensively.

"Peyton, you had a knife under your bed! You didn't say a word, you didn't even look! If I had not grabbed your wrist…God knows what would have happened. You, you could have killed me. You could have hurt yourself and judging by those marks on your legs, it looks like you've already been doing that…on purpose."

"It's not what you think."

"Then what is it? Huh? Tell me, Peyton, please because I would really like to know!"

"Don't yell at me."

He bit his lip, his growing frustration getting the better of him. He didn't want to yell at her, he didn't mean to. It was only because he loved her so much and at that moment he had realized just how vulnerable she truly was.

"How long, Peyt? You have to be honest with me. I want the truth. How long have you been sleeping with the knife? How long have you been hurting yourself?"

"You don't understand."

"Then make me understand. You keep saying that. I am here and I have always been here. Talk to me. Whatever it is, whatever you have to say, no matter how horrible it might sound, I promise you, Peyton, I swear to God there is nothing you could ever say or do that could make me stop loving you."

She fidgeted nervously in her seat before standing and pacing around the small room.

"It's not all the time. Some days, some nights are harder than others. I, I just got freaked out."

"You need help."

"I'm not crazy!" she angrily spat.

"No one is saying you're crazy but these things that are happening to you…obviously it's messing with your head a lot. Unless you confront it, unless you let me in, unless you let me help you, it's not gonna go away, Peyton. He's not gonna go away. Let me help you get through this, baby."

He extended his hand but she shook her head and slowly backed away.

"You can't just fix everything, Lucas! I can do this, I have to deal with it in my own way, on my own."

"What kind of person would I be? What kind of man, boyfriend, friend would I be to walk away when you're in so much pain? I can't let you keep doing this to yourself."

"Let it go, Lucas," she mouthed tersely.

"You told me once that by moving on and taking back your life was the only way Derek didn't get to win. Don't you see? He's still winning. He's still in there and in there," Lucas pointed to her head and heart. "Maybe I can't fix this one but I can find people that can."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you talking about one of those hospitals?"

"Babe, I don't know. There are lots of options, okay? Yes, there are hospitals but there is also a lot of outpatient treatment as well. Whatever you want, alright? Just as long as you agree to some kind of professional help."

"Yeah right. So they can lock my crazy ass away in a padded room."

"That's not gonna happen. I won't let that happen."

"Having second thoughts yet, Luke?"

"What?"

"Maybe now you realize you made a big mistake, that you chose the wrong friend."

"Peyton…"

"Brooke with her cute one liners and care free, party girl attitude. Issue free, huh? I just bet you're longing for those days. Well, I'm not standing in your way. There's the door. You don't have to have me committed to the psych ward just to have an easy out."

"Don't turn this around on me. Look, I don't want to fight with you."

"I don't want to fight with you either."

"Then can we just talk about it?"

"I'm done talking, okay? I don't have anything else to say, Luke. Just let it go."

"Excuse me, guys," came a knock at the door from Dottie. "I…I don't mean to interrupt but I'm having a problem with the credit card machine…"

"No interruption at all, Dottie," Peyton said. "I was just leaving."

"Peyton," Lucas called out.

"I'll be at home waiting but I've said everything I have to say about it. If you can't accept that, then maybe you shouldn't come back."

With that, she walked off without another word. Leaving Lucas stunned and heartbroken.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"It wasn't you, Dottie," Lucas sighed. "Trust me, it's much bigger than that. Much bigger."