A/N: Hi guys! I love the response this story has gotten so far! I love writing this because first person lets me dive into the character's thoughts and background so much more. Who knows, this might even be a book one day with different names of course ;) Anyway, here's Chapter 2. It's a bit more of Tori's history and story which i promise is necessary for you to understand her. Jade will show up, I promise. Just not in this chapter. I want you to guys to understand Tori's character and why she is the way she is. Her head is filled with interesting emotions that cling to your heart and that is what is going to make this special. So bear with me and await the arrival of Jade, because I promise, she'll be here soon. Please review, they motivate me to keep going. I love everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. That took seconds of your life that you're never going to get back, and I'm amazed that you spend them on me. I love you all(: Now get down there, and get lost.

The car rumbles softly as I turn into my apartment complex. Cherryhill Suites shines down at me in glowing letters, the vowels flickering so that it looks like a mesh of characters that make no sense at all. My headlights flood the driveway, showcasing the dancing gravel vibrating on the cement. Trees loom over the road and elongated branches slowly make space for the luminescent moon to be seen through the midst of the leaves. It isn't a bad area to live in, considering there is an azure pool littered with leaves and urine in the back and the fact that the apartments on the west side have a view of the ocean. Back when I had first moved in, I also appreciated the fact that it was a short driving distance from a small hubbub of shops and bars, not to mention it was walking distance from the beach. Rent is a bit more expensive than expected but since my student pay for working at the Counseling Center was higher than a regular dropout trying to make his fate in the city of angels, I'm able to live pretty comfortably. Making rent every month had never been a problem from me, but now of course, it is much easier since I refuse to step foot out the apartment unless a need calls me to it, such as work, grocery shopping, or of course my adventures with Cat. It isn't that I am scared of it happening again. It's more like I don't want the opportunity to arise. I do all my shopping in the daytime and at night I stay locked inside my room. Cat understands this and when she comes over after the sun sets and allows the darkening night to encroach on our territory, she always declares a movie or cooking night, granting me the comfort of staying inside. There was a time when I would walk along the beach at night and listen to the crashing waves. I would sit along the shore line and close my eyes as nature's music would envelop my senses. It had been my comfort zone, my place of escape. I used to do the exact same thing at home in Florida when I was little. Our house had been right along the beach and I would sneak out to lie in the sand and watch the stars. I had always loved that about the stars. No matter where you are in the world, the stars always look the same. And someone else out there, was seeing the same twinkling beauties.

I didn't walk the beach anymore of course. I stopped going to karaoke bars, night clubs, restaurants. My father, being Italian, had taught me more than enough about cooking so that I would never go hungry. The only reason food wouldn't be in my stomach was because there were times when I refused to eat. There were days where I just sit on my sofa, watching my TV with glazed eyes, not registering the pang of hunger in my stomach. In the morning, I would find myself in the same place, insomnia plaguing my body. The dreams would terrify me and I would end up thrashing wildly like that night at the hospital, only there was no Cat to hold me this time. Which was a good thing. The less they associated with me, the better. I'd only tear them down. My life has become one of simple routine. In the morning, I awake from the little sleep I have managed to catch, grab a bottle of lemon tea, and walk out the door to drive to work. Then I come home and attempt to relax and sleep or Cat would barge in demanding my presence. Either way I'd make my way home and at the end of the night. I'd be lying on my bed or sofa, thinking about the demons that swirl inside my brain.

My hours at the counseling center always consist of watching professional psychologists with their clients on video. I was never allowed to sit in the room of course, the action being simple enough to destroy a person's comfort level in a matter of seconds. I'm at the learning stage, having completed my actual schoolwork. Eventually, I would be able to take on a client of my own and my success with them would help my professors determine if I was ready for my degree. I'm thankful that I have not yet been assigned a client considering the fact that I barely talked myself. Mixing personal issues with business is grounds for extending the time needed to obtain my masters.

All of my friends had expected me to become a singer. It was something I had loved with all my soul, always walking around with buds stuffed in my ears as I belted out the words to my favorite songs. I had been told my voice was angelic, alluring, even captivating. I had been in choir all through school and had been praised by countless faces all blurring together in my memory. So it came to a shock to many to learn that I had chosen to pursue a career in Psychology. It wasn't a difficult decision for me at all. It was my passion to help people, it still is. I loved listening to people confide in me about their deepest worries and stresses and having the ability to make them melt away. I had been told I was a good listener, empathetic and sympathetic; the perfect bend for a psychologist. Singing was a hobby, something I could so in my spare time, but I didn't want to base a living on it. I had been ask why I hadn't traveled down psychiatry instead, and my answer was simple. I didn't want to solve problems by prescribing medicines. I want to help people naturally, by talking to them, breaking through their tough barriers. The only problem was, watching their barriers crumble only taught me how to make my own indestructible. But in the end, a smiling Victoria Marie Vega went off to college on the other side of the country.

UCLA had always pulled me in with its grinning students, crystal beaches and close proximity to the city. The years there had been the best four years of my life. That's where I had met Cat, Robbie, and Andre. Cat was my bubbly roommate, ready to turn even the smallest occasion to a big happy adventure. She was majoring in Theatre, her dream to be in movies one day. Robbie and Andre had lived in the room across from ours, the building being a coed dorm. Robbie was studying technical effects while Andre's chosen path was music. We all had learned a lot in our time at UCLA, me learning so much about people and how to talk to them. Clinical Psychology was my calling, and I flew through the courses with amazing scores and I met amazing people. But in the end, Cat, Robbie, Andre and I would be the ones to meet up at the craziest of times and go on the most exciting adventures. We became a family, close knit and affectionate. After we had decided to move off campus, we went apartment hunting together. Andre and Robbie, used to living with each other for four years, decided to share a flat while Cat and I had searched for separate apartments. I had asked Cat if she wanted to stay together but she surprised us all by voicing that she wanted to try and be independent for the first time in her life. Shrugging, I had agreed. We found Andre and Robbie a place within the first couple weeks. They live about 10 minutes away from my complex in Songbird Hills. Cat lived only 5 minutes away, across the road in The Candy Shops. It was close enough that we could run over to each other at moment's notice and we both adored the location.

The first couple months were hard. Cat and I were constantly over at each other's homes, unused to the separation that had distanced us for the first time in four years. My apartment is cozy, a warmer feel to the space. When you first walk in the door, you are immediately faced with the kitchen, filled with cherry wood cabinets and shining tiles. In front of the kitchen, or to the left when one first enters, is the living space, the center of the area. A large TV rests along the wall behind it and a leather sleeper sofa is splayed out in front. Besides the sofa are two love seats, positioned toward each other with a small coffee table in the middle. There are two end tables on both sides of the sofa, carrying antique lamps and many of the scattered books that always lay around the house. The colors are warm, comforting and my own decorations line the walls and make the apartment my own. Across the room, away from the windowed wall and the small balcony, is my bedroom. The bathroom is on the left side, visible to the eye when you walk in, and my bed faces you as you enter. I had always had a habit of throwing my clothes everywhere when I was done wearing them, but as soon as I had moved out the clothes were soon replaced with books. Five bookshelves occupy my room, with even more swatches of paper littering the floors. I'm a writer as well as a singer. The writing had come from an avid love of reading. On the other side of the apartment, closer to the door is the second bedroom for guests whenever they decide to stay the night. It is decorated sparsely, only filled with enough neutral and warm colors to make overnight visitors comfortable when they decide to crash. Its bathroom is on the right when you walk in.

Cat never slept in the other bedroom when she spent the night. She always used to lay down in my bed with me, talking and giggling until the wee hours of morning. It took time for us to get used to living away from each other. In the beginning, there were always sleepovers, movie nights, dinners, using anything as an excuse we could use to be together. We even invited Robbie and Andre over more than necessary, choosing not to venture into their apartment of the unknown boy. Two years went on like this. My life was happy. I had an amazing time studying what I loved and my closest friends were with me whenever I needed them.

And then, that night had ruined it all.

Here I am now, trudging up the steps of the now dark building, shivering from the cold air that had followed me inside. Here I am, forcing my key into the lock and walking inside as I throw my bag onto the kitchen counter. Here I am, making my way to my bedroom to get ready for a sleep I know will never come.

Here I am.

Alone.