Author's Note: I'm hoping with time, more people will get invested in this story and leave longer reviews. My favorite part of this, other than the writing, is reading all the great stuff you guys say. I love knowing my readers and hearing what you have to say, so feel free to leave any and all comments.

This story is so interesting and different to write for me, especially since I haven't written anything like this before. All of a sudden lately, I've been getting tons of ideas for stories. I mean, so many I don't know what to do with myself. All of them are dark and depressing and different and fun, so hopefully I'll get around to posting them all.

You'll get quite a bit of background in here, and yes, I know Tree Hill University isn't a university, and if it was one, it certainly wouldn't be better than Duke. Heh.

Also, you'll notice there are flashback in this chapter. There will be a lot more throughout the story, too.

Circles and Squares

Chapter One: It's You I See, But You Don't See Me

He woke up.

He took a shower… with soap.

He shaved. Sometimes, he cried for no reason.

Almost every day, he would examine the faint scar that disappeared into his hairline, now lightened pink four years after the accident.

If you had known him before the accident, and were to look at him now, he thought, you'd never know how broken he was; all the damage was on the inside.

He ventured into the kitchen, following the small post-it notes left behind by his roommate, instructing him on how to make his breakfast. He did not allow himself to think about what he was doing, to feel any embarrassment for not being able to even prepare his own meals.

Once, all these new adjustments had pained him so greatly, he would lay in bed for days, staring at the ceiling. He'd been Nathan Scott once, destined for greatness. And now he was merely a shell of that person, some slow individual that had simply taken refuge in his body. It had taken him almost a year to accept that he'd be this way for the rest of his life. And still, this was only if he did not allow himself to think about it.

As he walked out the door, his eyes hesitated over the two sets of keys dangling from the wall. As his eyes read his own name labeled neatly in a handwriting that wasn't his own over one set, he grabbed it.

The walk to his car was often an unpleasant experience. He saw several neighbors daily, and yet found he could almost never remember their names.

"Hey Nathan!" The short, bald man with the cool accent would say.

"Oh…hey." He'd reply with a small smile, begging his mind to allow the name to slip from its grasp, back into his reach. These people probably did not know him, did not know what he'd been through over the years. They thought he was a normal twenty-one year old who only cared about partying and getting laid, and perhaps his mother.

Today however, he saw only the mean old lady who shot him dirty looks. It was obvious to him that she thought he was just a stupid young adult. Her name, ironically, was the only one he could remember. Mrs. Hunt. Or was it Mrs. Hunter? Well, one of the two.

He forced a polite smile onto his face, but she ignored him, huffing all the way to her own car.

Nathan swallowed and walked to his own car, a silver Volkswagen that his parents had purchased for him upon his high school graduation. He had not deserved it, after everything he'd put them through, but he had needed a car, so he'd accepted it.

He unlocked the car, took the familiar (and sometimes unfamiliar) route he took every Wednesday. This was one of the few events he always remembered. One, because it was written down in the small notebook he always carried around with him. And two, because it was one of the only things he ever looked forward to.

He pulled into a space, checked his reflection, and slowly walked up the steps of the 'Gregory & West Mental Health Center'. He'd be meeting with Alison West, his therapist of over three years. He'd first started seeing her when he'd moved to Tree Hill from Chapel Hill, soon after his high school graduation. She was the only psychiatrist he'd had since the accident that he'd liked, mostly because she was the only one that treated him like a human being

Alison West was an attractive woman in her late thirties, with curly hair that reminded Nathan faintly of Peyton Sawyer.

She clicked her pen as she flipped through her notes, and smiled at him with a genuinely interested smile. "How has your week been, Nathan?"

He shrugged, as he often did when she asked him this question. "It's been alright, I guess."

Her office had a comfortable feel to it. He liked the fabric of the couch, and the pale yellow color of the walls. He liked the way she always played with her heels, kicking them off her feet, and then slowly putting them back on, over and over. It was like a nervous tick she had, which made him feel less embarrassed about his own.

"And two days ago was Lucas's birthday, right?" He nodded slowly. "What did you do?"

Nathan smiled faintly. "Mom and I went to see him."

Alison nodded. "What about Dan?"

"He didn't go," he shook his head, frowning slightly. "Dad doesn't like going to the burial grounds. He thinks it's a waste, and that Lucas can't hear us talking to him anyway."

"And what do you think, Nathan?"

"I-- I don't know. I hope he can hear us, and mom definitely thinks he can. But I don't know what I believe. And sometimes I think maybe it's better if he can't hear us."

"Why is that?"

"Because," he hated when they talked about Lucas or the accident. He liked talking about the problems in his daily life, or the good things in his life. Mostly, he just liked the talking, period. But he didn't like feeling vulnerable, he didn't like feeling like he might cry if he continued. "I think he probably hates me."

"Nathan," she shook her head. "From what you've told me about Lucas, he was far too good a person to hate you. I'm sure he knows it was an accident."

"I'd hate me, if I were him."

He just wanted to change the subject. On Sunday, he'd nearly gotten a puppy he'd seen at the pet store.

"I think you're a little too hard on yourself."

He shrugged, and then mumbled. "I'm thinking about trying out for a higher position at work."

She quickly accepted the fact that he'd changed the subject, as he often times did. "What position?"

"Bank teller." He'd been working for a couple years as the janitor at the local bank in Tree Hill, coming in for the late shift every night, and sometimes during the day when they needed him.

Alison nodded and he could tell by the way she was looking at him that she didn't think he could do it. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"I've been practicing counting money and greeting people and pulling up account information with Brooke." For almost two months now, and he almost felt as if it were helping his short term memory, somewhat.

"Does Brooke think you can do it?"

He thought for a moment. "Yes."

"Okay, good."

Her skepticism made Nathan feel defensive. "It's not like it's that hard. This is a job pretty much anyone can do. If I'd never had that accident, you wouldn't be doubting me at all."

"I'm not doubting you, Nathan. But you know as well as I do that your short term memory can get terrible when you feel too pressured. Someone that's having a bad day could come in with a terrible attitude, and you might forget what you're doing."

Stubbornly, he crossed his arms. "I'm not an idiot."

"I'm well aware."

There was a long silence before Alison sighed. "What are your plans for the day?"

He loosened up. He found his anger subsiding and the reason for his anger slowly beginning to falter in his mind. "I was thinking I'd get some food and then maybe stop by the university."

"Nathan," She said with a shake of her head, "I thought we agreed you would stop doing that."

"I'm not anymore." He lied.

She tapped her foot. "Did you do it yesterday?"

Nathan looked away to avoid her eyes.

"You promised me that you were going to stop, Nathan. We agreed it was unhealthy for you to watch Haley."

"You make it sound like I'm stalking her," he protested. "I just like to see how's she doing."

"Sitting on a park bench at Tree Hill University and watching Haley walk to her classes is not seeing how she's doing. Do you remember what happened last time you and Haley spoke?"

It was one of the things he tried hardest to forget, but found he never could. How ironic that he always remembered the things he didn't want to.

His lowered his head. "One of these days, I'm going to walk up to her and say something."

"Haley is no longer a part of your life, Nathan. And she hasn't been for four years. You know that nothing is going to change that." He didn't want to believe her, but a part of him knew it was true.

He didn't say anything, and she continued. "Have you met any other girls recently?"

"No."

"Have you tried?"

"No."

"Nathan," Alison shook her head, her hazel eyes staring hard into his. "I worry about you sometimes."

"Yeah," he chuckled though nothing was funny. "Me too."

All he can see is blood. Across his eyes, it looks more black than anything. He is shivering; the cold is seeping slowly through his body, taking him over.

He coughs. He wants to yell out for Lucas or Haley, but he finds he cannot move.

In fact, he cannot feel his body at all. He is there, cold and shivering, but with no actual body.

He thinks this is what death must feel like.

Tree Hill University was easily the best college in the state, followed closely by Duke. When he'd been in high school, in the prime of his basketball career, he'd been sure he'd end up a Tree Hill Raven. His father had always been sure to remind him that THU was easily one the best colleges in the country for sports, especially basketball.

He could still remember the summer after the accident, sitting outside this large school, knowing he'd never be able to come here. Knowing his acceptance would be taken away from him, that he'd never get the chance to find out which courses interested him even the slightest, that he'd never play basketball seriously. His life was over, and even more so than that, his brother's life was over.

Lucas had been accepted to Stanford weeks before the accident, and Peyton was going to go to California with him. She would paint, and he would write. And after everything that had happened, Nathan felt dreadful for allowing himself to mourn his own life, when there were two people who had lost their own dreams because of his stupidity.

He felt often that the memory of his past life was just the memory of someone else's. Unfortunately, these were the only memories that stayed stuck in his mind, and he replayed them over and over like a movie, waiting and watching for the main character's tragedy, knowing it would lead to this, but not being able to stop the disaster.

He sat on a bench overlooking the main quad of Tree Hill University, watching the students interact. Toned boys throwing footballs, pretty girls gossiping or watching together, some reading by themselves, couples frolicking, large groups of mixed ethnic groups and genders, study groups. He wondered if he blended in well. If these people looked at him as probably another student.

It was a warm August day, and most wore light clothing. The sun shined, covering the school in a perfect equilibrium of day and illumination.

He saw her then, walking.

Haley wore a pale blue dress, falling to her knees and exposing her shoulders. Her hair was getting long, spilling down her back in thick waves. She smiled at an acquaintance, then looked down, continuing to walk. She looked beautiful, just like she did every time he saw her.

They hadn't spoken in years, but still, the sight of her reminded him of that one point in time, when he was sure he loved her.

Guiltily, Nathan lowered his eyes to the ground. He wasn't supposed to be here, and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself.

He missed her. He missed the way she'd looked at him. Not like other girls had, in an obsessive, fanatical way. Haley had been different. She had been surprised by his interest in her, had been patient with him when he had not understood his homework, or had made a mistake with their relationship. She had always accepted him for who he was, and he had ruined it all.

Lucas and Peyton had died that day in the crash, but it was him and Haley who had become ghosts.

After the accident, he hadn't returned to school. His grief mixed with his new disabilities had made him more than unable. He could not stand the sight of himself. A murderer, he thought, when he'd look in the mirror, an idiot. He had slept and stared and cried and mourned. And he had missed Haley, and Lucas, and even Peyton, though she'd always thought he was a pompous jackass.

At the funerals, Peyton's father, so overcome with losing the only person in his life that had mattered, had made a scene. He had screamed at Nathan, he had tried to fight Nathan, he had been drunk. Nathan wondered how it was that his own parents did not hate him, but Dan and Karen Scott had been the most kind they'd ever been after his brother's death.

At first, the loss of short term memory confused and angered him, and still today, it sometimes got the best of him. He'd be on the stairs, and forget if he were going up or down, he'd forget how to make pasta, conversations that he'd had moments before completely slipped from his memory; it became necessary for him to write everything down.

Sometimes, when he was really nervous, he'd begin to limp. When he thought too hard, he would end up so confused he would forget everything he'd been trying to remember. It was a constant burden.

He could not work out because gyms were too dangerous for him, so he'd become thin over the years, the only muscle left in him from his years of working out in high school. He had lost the ability to attract women, because though his natural attractiveness was still apparent, his capability to flirt had left him long ago. Witty banter never happened, mostly because he was usually so nervous. With Brooke, he could banter playfully, but even then he'd sometimes get lost.

And he missed his brother. A part of him had died along with Lucas that night. The one person in his life that he'd always been able to count on, that he'd always looked up to… was gone. They had been born barely a year apart -- his father's sperm always super -- and his parents had held Lucas back a year so that him and Nathan could graduate together. And even in doing this, they had not been able to.

He wanted to fix things. He wanted to go back in time and change what he'd done, make it all better. And then maybe, possibly, Haley could finally forgive him.

"Hey, buddy, can you hear me? Blink once for yes."

He blinks, unable to move anything else.

"Alright, can we get a stretcher over here?" He can barely make out the man's shape. How has he ended up here, on the ground? He'd been wearing his seatbelt, hadn't he?

"..the girl says there were two other people in the car, John. Get another ambulance here.."

"..ejected one hundred feet.."

"…severe lacerations on the head, possible broken back.."

There are so many questions he needs to ask, but he's disappearing.