Sweets' POV

"Wait, you can't put Whitney on drugs. She's fine. I've known her for alomst a year now. She's fine." Olivia looks over at me, glaring and I pull my jeans on. She walks from my office and I sigh.

"Look, we're going to call her parents about this matter. Do you know there number or do we have to find it ourselves?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know." I put the phone down and grab my shirt. "Olivia!" But she's gone and I sit back down. I pick up my iPod and stick on my headphones. Most of the songs on there, Whitney uploaded. I tap The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars. It's Whitney's favoruite song. I can picture her singing it. Her hair dancng across the room, arms in the hair and her purple ainted lips singing the words. I feel tears starting to welm in my eyes.

Whitney. She's my ex-girlfriend but why do I feel this way about her? I still love her but why do I still miss her? Why do I still miss her touch? I drop my head in my hands and the music changes to Evanescense My Last Breath.

The songs are tormenting me. No matter what I change it to, it mocks me. Mocks me by singing Whitney. I feel like slapping myself for thinking of her like that. We aren't a couple, we are barely friends. Time has started to heal our friendship. But it's not like it can ever be perfect.

I broke her. I grabbed her fragile heart and stomped on it. She's a mirror. At her best she is cracked. A couple of small fracture lines. At her worst she is shattered. Like someone had picked her up and slammed her to the ground. The pieces fallen all over to ground, hiding under the couch and behind the walls that we have put up to protect ourselves.

Whitney was never like Fisher. Fisher wasn't suicidal. Whitney was. You let her near anything sharp in her own time and blood will spill. Dripping along the white carpet so that you could follow her anywhere.

She has long marks along her arms and torso. On her legs and even on her neck. But the one on her neck isn't from a razor blade. Stop! Stop thinking about Whitney, she's your ex-girlfriend. EX-GIRLFRIEND. Empaisis on the ex. I frown and pull my phone out. Dialling Whitney's doctor's number, I place the phone to my ear and say "Hello, can I please be redirected to Doctor Emily Reid's ward?"

"Who's speaking, and why do you need to be sent there?"

"I'm Doctor Lance Sweets from the FBI. I'm Doctor Whitney Black's contact number."

"Okay then. I can redirect you to Doctor Emily Winter's ward now." Music starts playing and it reminds me of a song that my mom used to play on the piano. It's really quite sad to hear it again.

"Hello Doctor Sweets. Emily here."

"Hello... Emily. I was wondering when Whitney was going to be released any time soon?" I cross over to the otherside of my room and drum my finger nails on the window.

"Look, Doctor Sweets. Your a good kid and all, but we can't release Whitney any time soon, I'm truly sorry. Sorry, this is a bad time to ask; but since you are her contact number, I was wondering if you could come to the hospital tomorrow. We tracked down Whitneys parents and since you are the only one apart from them, I was wondering if you could come. Just incase something happens..."

"Thanks Emily. I'd love to come. And it's Lance."

" 'kay 'kay. Look I really need to go, thanks for agreeing to come Lance."

"Any time Emily." I place the phone down, shaking my head. What have I done? What more am I going to put Whitney through? I should call Emily back and tell her everything. Everything about her parents and how she doesn't want to see them... But it's not like they will believe me. Emily might, she's Whitney's doctor. She knows Whitney, she'll understand. But when I dial Emily's number, I can't speak and she hangs up. I would too.

Tomorrow the trust that I had with Whitney is broken. Tomorrow I lose everything. Today I lost Olivia by Doctor Carson telling her that Whitney was my boyfriend.