A/N: Hi lovelies! Oh my its been so long since I last updated this and that makes me feel terrible! If you want to hear my excuses and reasons, keep reading this. If not, get down there(:

Ok so most of you know I started school again and I'm doing college level classes and things in high school which in turn dictates my life and ensures I only get 3 hours of sleep a night! It's pretty bad. But I have figured out that I have time to write a chapter each weekend of a story. Last weekend, I updated Burning Wings, and this weekend, it's Break You Down. This tells me I can update each story every other week. Trust me. I know it sucks. And I hate it, but it's the only time I have): Don't hate me, I'm sorry! But on the bright side, this chapter is longer than usual and I think you'll like it! I hope. Maybe. Possibly.

But that is my little spiel for the night! It's 1 am here. I'm exhausted. See what IB does to me?! Anyway. I adore absolutely everyone who has followed or reviewed or even favorited! You guys are amazing, I cant thank you enough. Here's your treat for you(: Don't forget to review ok?

Now get down, and get lost.

It is as if a ray of paralyzation has settled over me, stunning my mind into a momentary lapse of immobile thoughts. My heart continues to beat, pushing the rushing blood through my veins, the only movement in the piece of stone I have become. The only string that keeps me tied to the world is those eyes, eyes of sparkle and exhaustion. They shift constantly in the light, and I can detect a probe within them, studying me and my movements as I stand there gazing at my unexpected visitor. I try to force myself to say something but my tongue lies unmoving within me, resting smugly as I make a fool of myself.

In the silence, she is the first to speak, eyeing me with cautious eyes.

"May I come in?"

Her voice is deep, alluring. It draws me in like a moth to flame, a light I cannot touch but every sense within me tingles for desperation. The timbre echoes of harsh experience and hardships I have yet to experience. I find the energy to nod and I step aside, allowing her to enter. She looks at me carefully and slowly steps in, careful not to make contact with me. Her suitcase bumps against her with a soft thump and she stands awkwardly by the door as she sets down her bag. I summon the ability to close the door and look at my new visitor.

She is still shivering, her jacket providing little protection from the teeth of the cold outside. Her hands are stuffed inside her pocket, her head facing towards the floor. Her posture is straight, emanating a confidence and pride in her position. Her toes are pointed in toward each other, signaling a slight nervousness and her eyes flit up to meet mine, only to look way when I catch them.

A feeling of pity bubbles within me and my heart melts at the sight of this freezing woman. I carefully gesture to the couch, allowing her to sit if need be. She nods carefully and slips off her shoes as she walks towards the living area. Questions buzz in multitudes within me but I stifle the natural curiosity and walk towards my kitchen, glancing back at my visitor as I go. I reach the tiled floors and pull out a mug from the cabinet, remembering my cooling dinner on the stove. I shake my head, shooing away all thoughts that don't concern this woman and I take the jug of milk out of the fridge and proceed to pour a glassful to warm up. Setting the mug in the microwave, I pull out some ingredients for chamomile tea while rationale began to settle in. What if she was a serial killer? A robber? A murderer? Someone on the run from the law? She could kill me in my sleep. Then again, I muse, I wouldn't mind being killed at the moment. Nothing was tying me to this world anyway. If she was someone of that nature, the least I could do before I died was help a poor shivering soul out. Besides, I could just ask her politely to leave after she was warmed up. It was getting colder in the wind outside and she was definitely not dressed for the weather that would soon prevail. And those eyes… they hold something I cannot explain. I have seen a lot of people ever since I chose to become a psychologist, but those eyes…. They hold secrets, secrets that are covered in walls that have a very familiar structure.

The beeping of the microwave shakes me out of my thoughts and I pull the milk out, watching it slosh gently within the mug as I add all the ingredients needed for the tea. I watch as gentle wisps of smoke dance into the air and wrap my hands around the porcelain as I walk towards my living room. The woman is still on the sofa, appearing to be deep in thought. My footsteps are quiet, making my way next to her and setting the mug down on a coaster in front of her. She jumps at the unexpected movement, her eyes finding me and calming slightly. Her gaze holds questions and her voice follows her inquisitive gaze.

"What is this?"

I am captivated by the sound as it echoes within me. There is a magic to her voice, a quality I have never had the pleasure to experience before.

"Chamomile. It'll warm you up."

She nods gratefully and brings the mug to her lips. I watch as she takes a sip, involuntarily closing her eyes as the warmth spreads through her body. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips and she sits there in the silence enjoying the comfort that envelops her soul. I take this time to study her, quietly taking a seat on the loveseat on her left as she drinks more of her comforter.

Her hands have a tight grip on the mug, a firm grasp showing just how much she needs the warmth. Again, her posture is straight, showing a strong stance on confidence and pride. She is not one to be messed with, or she will tear you down. One leg is settled next to the other, tight and rigid. She is uncomfortable with the surroundings. She emanates nervousness as well, shown in the little movements of her knees, knocking against her calves silently. Yet in all this, there is a steel backbone to her soul, evident in attitude she reflects. It is buried in her voice, filling the room as she subconsciously asserts that she can stand her own and refuses to let anyone take care of her.

But there is that slight aura of pain that she gives off as well. Something has hurt her, something she is trying to hide. Her eyes are rimmed red and they are filled with a covered pain that seeps through the green irises. Her walls are up, but they are weak, as if someone has broken them down from the inside and she is just now trying to build them back up again.

Why does it feel like I know her?

The clinking of the mug brings my attention back to her as she sets the now empty mug back on the coater. She clasps her hands together nervously but looks at me with a steely expression that retains a soft edge to it.

"Thank you."

I only nod, refusing to speak as it has become so foreign to me to converse with strangers.

"I apologize for the late entry. It's just I have traveled a long way to get here and I need a place to stay…" she trails off unsurely, not meeting my eyes.

My heart constricts.

"For how long?"

She looks at me then, her eyes shining with… is that hurt? And something familiar as well… again the feeling of an unknown recognition flows through me.

"Victoria."

I shift backwards in surprise, my legal name rolling off her tongue. My fears of murderers or killers are back and my heart beats wildly.

"Who are you?"

"Don't you recognize me?" Her voice has a pleading tone to it, soft and… it strikes a chord with me. I have heard that tone before, somewhere, somehow. Was she a patient I had worked with? Someone I had met at UCLA? Maybe a person I had met a bar or club?

"Come on Victoria, I know it's been six years but I haven't changed that much. Jesus. You always were really forgetful. You forgot all the notes to the middle riff during the Christmas Concert in senior year too. Mr. Anderson was so mad at you."

Immediately a smile finds its way onto my face.

"Jade? Jadelyn West?"

She chuckles, the sound reigniting new memories.

"The one and only."

"There is no way."

"Well there has to be, I'm right here."

Memories of my high school friend swim into my conscience and I grin. Jadelyn August West. In high school, we were both part of the same social circle, forcing us to hang out now and then.

When I first met her, she had scared me half to death. She was into the darker clothing and gothic look then and plus her standoffish personality was frightening to me. She was easily irritated by people and she hated most everything. Her favorite hobby was to constantly torture Sinjin, a friend of ours until he ran away in fear. She never really liked me, voicing that I always got the better solos in choir and I always took her parts. She never let go of an opportunity to bring me down. It was torture for the first couple years of high school.

But then she started dating Beck Oliver.

We had all always been a part of the same circle so they had known each other for a while. It was obvious to everyone that he wanted to go out with her. She knew it too and managed to tease him mercilessly about it every day. But he took it with a smile and kept trying. After months of pushing him away only to have him stand his ground she had decided to give him a chance. And from then on, she treated people better. Beck seemed to have this control over her, always knowing how to calm her down or make sure she didn't blow up at everyone. His easy going smile and calm personality was always there to save the day. He put up with her bitchiness and helped her ease through it as well. They were polar opposites, that being the reason why they worked so well. And anyone could see that no matter how much she denied it, Jade was happy.

That was then we started becoming friends. She started acting less like a gank towards me and we began to talk civilly. That later led to hanging out, duets, laughing together, normal friendship. It was nice. There was a side to Jade I never knew existed. Heavy sarcasm and biting remarks were a genuine part of her personality but after diving deeper than that she had a heart and soul like everyone else. She cared about people; you just had to get through some walls. But in the end, she only let Beck in all the way. She had even kept me at arm's distance, something that had irritated me at the time, but in my present situation I could understand. It was her defense mechanism, a way she wouldn't get hurt. She was a closed turtle shell, only open to one person.

She had always wanted to go into music. It was what she wanted to do with her life. Her dream was to be on Broadway and sing for the world. We joked around and promised each other that she would buy me tickets to her show and we'd meet up again after years and have a great time. We both shared a love of singing and that was something that always brought us together, something we agreed would always keep us connected. During senior year, she had been accepted to Julliard with a full scholarship. I was so proud of her and we celebrated in our way into the wee hours of night. Beck had been accepted to Columbia as well and they had decided to move up there together. The last time I had seen her was the graduation after party where drunk and tear stricken we had exchanged our farewells. The next morning, I had woken up with a pounding headache and a phone filled with goodbye texts. Hers announced tiredly that she was on her way to New York and that she'd call me when she got there. I had gotten ready to take off for California after saying goodbye to my family and stepped off the plane only to see a missed call from her dancing on the screen. I had called her back and we had chatted back and forth as she told me about her and Beck's apartment and the view of the city. She hadn't been used to the cold, leaving me chuckling when she started cursing about the biting winds. She told me she wouldn't ever get used to it, being Floridian at heart. We had talked everyday for weeks until school started for both of us. After we began to get immersed into our own lives, we gradually began to drift away, the calls turning into once a week to once a month and once in a while which slowly faded into never at all. She resided in the back of my mind, tucked away only to surface when I thought of the high school days. She had been the closest thing I had to a best friend but in reality, I knew nothing about her at all.

And now here she was, after six years, grinning as she glared at me from my living room couch.

"I swear, you've gotten quieter Vega. You used to be such a chatterbox, you'd never shut up."

I shrug, discomfort growing in the pit of my stomach.

"I've changed."

"Eh, we all have. Though I could recognize you the moment you opened the door. You look just like you did six years ago. Well, you've filled out a bit. A little pudge there," she winks, poking my stomach.

I involuntarily flinch back but quickly cover it up with a smile.

"I am not pudgy."

"Whatever you say. So. How's life treating you?"

The smile falls away slowly and I ponder how to answer. What am I supposed to say?

"Oh you know. It's been good. Do you want some dinner? I just made some," I say smoothly, trying to change the subject.

It works and she stands.

"Sure. But if it tastes like cardboard I'm dumping it on you."

I chuckle humorlessly and serve her a plate as she sits down at the table.

"You've got a nice place here."

I only offer her a small smile and set her pasta down in front of her.

"Jesus Tori, this smells amazing."

"Thanks," I shrug and I settle into my seat.

She begins to dig in, making appreciative sounds as she eats.

"Where the hell did you learn how to cook like this?"

"Dad," I smile, going back to my food.

I can feel her studying me quietly from the other side of the table but I refuse to meet her gaze. I am scared of what I'll find.

"If you cook like this every day, I don't think I'll mind living here."

I pause at this, taking in her words. I look up at her to see her savoring her pasta with her eyes closed and a smile on her face.

"What do you mean Jade?"

She opens her eyes, the sparkling green entities resting on my own. There are emotions swirling within them, emotions I cannot place. It seems like there is a storm of conflict dancing within her, wondering how much to let me in. I wait quietly, understanding the whirlwind.

"Can I move in with you?"

It's a whisper, reverberating with pain and sadness that has been loosely covered up with strength.

I brow my eye in confusion, taking in the unfamiliar feelings coming from the tough as nails Jade West.

"Why?"

She looks down then, refusing to meet my gaze. That conflict is making its move again, vibrating within her. My curiosity is burning, wondering why on earth she would present herself as this vulnerable to me. What happened? Then her mouth opens, her gaze still resting on the cherry table.

"I found Beck with another woman."