I pulled up in front of the beach house and walked up to the front porch, fumbling with the keys in desperation, looking for an escape from the reality I was trapped in.

This wasn't the first time I'd fumbled with these keys at this door. I'd fumbled with them many times with Peyton as she was teasing me in ways I can't describe. There were a few times that I'd even given up the attempt of getting inside. And at those point she always took the keys from me and seemed to open the door with such incredible ease as if she were completely unaffected. She made being turned on and doing other things look so simple where as all I could think about was the things she was doing to me and the things I would do to her.

I finally flung the door open and walked in, slamming it behind me as if that would help. As if it would keep the memories at bay. As if that would simply shut them out. As if it was an actual door in my mind that the memories would have to beat down first. Before they could cause me pain.

I found the alcohol quickly, having known for years now where it was. I poured myself a glass, but carried the bottle with me as I sunk into the couch, alone. I'd never noticed how it felt to be alone. I'd been here plenty times alone after fights with my dad. But this time it was different, I was really, really alone. I had no one to leave and go see. No one to go back too. And it was a kind of feeling that twisted your stomach up and turned your insides inside-out. Alone. I'd felt alone far too often in my life.

Most everything I did in my life, I did alone. Me against the world. I guess that's what makes me an unstoppable force. What makes me Nathan Scott. What makes me a single identity and not part of a group. The fact that I must always plow ahead, into deeper and more difficult things, alone.

And this is why I have never failed no matter what the cost. Why even as a part of a group I stand alone. And it is probably why I am given way too much responsibility. I'd never been able to blame a failure on the group around me because I am supposed to lead them. And as my father says a group performs as well as their leader trains them to, so everyone's failure is my failure. And when you stand alone, failures are hard to recover from because there is no one to help you back up off the ground but yourself and that is far too hard, so it's easier to always win if you stand alone. To forfeit whoever or whatever you have to, so that you don't fall while everyone's looking. Being alone is a difficult thing that most people live their whole lives without ever truly understanding, but I do.

And that's why losing the only person who helped me not be alone stings.

I poured myself another glass, enjoying the burn as the alcohol eased itself down my throat.

I was laying back on the couch now, quite a few drinks later. And I stared at the bag she'd thrown at me, sitting on the end of the table. It was as if that small plastic bag was a monster. A monster and a savior. I wanted to know what was in it. What she'd thought had been important enough to save. And I marveled at the fact that everything that was important to her about us, fit into such a small space.

Had our relationship always been that empty and I had missed it? Or did it used to be full and now it was empty? And all the things in the bag are from the beginning? And then exactly when did it stop being full of good memories for her? I know when it stopped for me.

When Lucas became a bigger picture. Not for all the stereotypical reasons everyone thinks. Not because he was joining the team, or he was hitting on my girl that I knew I was treating like crap anyway. But because I knew Peyton deserved better. I knew that somewhere along the way we'd stopped working and she deserved him. And then I knew she was looking. I knew I could never be that.

I could never be strong enough to stand up straight on my own and let people help me, and be kind. I didn't know how. The two didn't go together for me. I couldn't be strong and confident without being alone, and I couldn't accept help because once you're alone, you get used to being that way. And then people are in your way.

I couldn't be as strong as Lucas, ever. And I knew it. I knew that at this point my reputation, my cockiness, they were all ways to hide from facing facts. To hide from acknowledging that I was lacking things. And more importantly to hide from admitting that these things were important to me. That I missed them. And that everyone had them. Even Peyton. And that's when I started pulling away because I hated her for having them...and even more for not realizing she had them.

I reached across the table and grabbed the bag, pulling it into my lap. I had to know what she held dear. What she'd probably still remember looking back. I had to make sure that she still remembered a time when she liked me.

Selfish I know. But myself is all I have, so I have to feel good about it. And with that I opened the bag and dumped it out onto the couch next to me.