"Come again?"

"I'm Hannah Montana," she repeated, and I wanted to take it as a joke, I really did, but her eyes were too hard, her face too stern. With this grave appearance, I would've believed her if she'd told me she was Wonder woman. There was no trace of a lie, but I had to be certain.

"Sing," was the only thing I could think of to request. Miley nodded and lowered her head, somewhat bashfully. Why would Hannah Montana be shy to sing in front of one person when she could sing in front of hundreds of screeching kids without even breaking a sweat? I waited for her to annihilate all looming doubts and fully convince me.

I feel like I'm a million miles away

From myself more and more these days

I've been down so many open roads

But they never lead me home

And now I just don't know...

Who I really am, how it's gonna be

Is there something that I can't see?

Never had I heard any Hannah songs sung so emotionally or coated with such grief. And the softer her voice got, the richer its meaning became. I could tell that this song wasn't written for the fans benefit, who seemed to need a constant flow of positive messages from Hannah. But then again, this wasn't Hannah singing, this was Miley.

I wanna understand!

Maybe I will never be

Who I was before

Maybe I don't even know her anymore

Or maybe who I am today

Ain't so far from yesterday

Can I find a way to be...

Every part of me?

Her voice diminished to nothing but a whisper and then she stopped caressing my ears and looked at me, her eyes no longer hidden behind a blank curtain. She was now revealing what she'd tried to keep from me the entire time we've been together. She was finally showing her guilt. I could see she was sorry for what she'd done and she was lost. Hannah Montana really was gone, but she left Miley behind in her shadow to wander about pointlessly. I raised my arm and before I even laid it over her shoulders, she dove into my side, buried her face into my neck, and I felt the hot wetness on my skin immediately. Her seemingly permanent cover was disowned, trickling from where it once sheltered, gradually dampening the collar of my shirt.

I dug my fingers into Miley's tangled hair, stroking the mess of chocolaty curls in a hopefully consoling way. I preferred this colour over the blonde. "So...Did you dye your hair?"

"No, I wore a wig when I was Hannah," she replied, swiping at her eyes with her jacket sleeve and then wiping over my neck to remove all traces of her anguish.

"What for?"

"Being Hannah was like a secret life and at the end of the day I could just take off my wig and disappear into the crowd. It gave me privacy and space, but now that I've messed everything up, I'm just me...forever."

"Well from what I can tell, you're not so bad." I heard her chuckle through her tears. Okay, so I had Hannah Montana in my living room, crying about her crumbled career with no idea what to do. Perfect.

"I wanted to go home Lilly, to my daddy." To her 'daddy'. Cute.

"Alright. Do you want to use my phone to call him? You know, to give him a heads up that you're honouring him with your presence?" Miley let me go, faintly smiling over my words as she nodded. I went to retrieve my broken house phone and once I put it back together, I handed it to Miley who'd followed me into the kitchen.

"Could you give me a sec?" she asked.

"Sure!" I went back to my soggy Froot Loops while Miley called her dad. I was happy to help her out, especially after all she'd been through. Hannah went bankrupt after her little performance and was abandoned by her manager, practically kicked to the gutter for a mistake any girl could make. She got involved with the wrong crowd. That was it. She was caught drinking and had damaged property while under the influence and not to mention she was underage, so Hannah's reputation was swept down the drain and into the sewer of washed up stars, but there was more. Reporters assumed there was some kind of bet going on for her to lose her house and most of her money, though no one knew the circumstances or who was involved in the gamble. Hannah claimed that she had been too wasted and couldn't remember a thing the next day. She could only remember waking up to someone banging on her front door telling her to get out of the house, which had been robbed of many of its items. She learnt that drinking brought out your stupid side the hard way.

Miley quietly joined me on the couch again. Her focus was on the TV and I knew by her taut stature that something was definitely wrong. She didn't seem excited like I thought she'd be about going home. Her bottom lip started quivering.

"What'd he say?" Miley's head slowly turned and when our eyes locked, she threw herself at me, fresh tears falling down her cheeks as she choked back sobs. What the hell happened?!

"He's gone!" she wailed.

"Gone?" Dead?

"He moved away Lilly! He never told me he was moving and his cell number was changed! What am I gonna do?!" she cried. I couldn't do anything except tighten my grip, knowing she couldn't hold herself together the way my arms could. She was frail and hurt, but I was gentle, so no matter what, she wasn't going to break anymore. I wouldn't let her.

"You'll stay with me." I said the words before I'd even thought of them. Miley left the comfort I offered and stared at me.

"I couldn't do that Lilly. I already feel like some wounded animal you found on the street that you felt obligated to save. I don't want to trouble you anymore..."

"Where else are you gonna go Miley? It's not really any trouble when I want you to stay with me now is it? Let me help you get back on your feet."

"Thank you Lilly, but I-"

"You're welcome... Want some breakfast? I can't really cook, but you can have anything you find in the fridge or whatever." I nudged Miley's shoulder until she caught on and stood up. I then threw my feet up onto the couch, not giving her any chance to protest or sit back down to chat more on the subject I wanted to avoid. She was staying. She could coax me into believing she wanted to leave as much as she liked, but I knew deep down she wanted to remain in my house. I may not know her all that well, but I trusted Miley and could tell she'd appreciate any roof over her head and would eventually accept even an unknown hand that was keen to help her up after she'd experienced the cold and pain of having nothing to shelter her and being a fallen celebrity.

She stood there in wonderment for a second, but I waved her off. And when she turned and walked towards the kitchen, I knew I'd won.