Have fun.

Lilly parted the curtains and glared at the two-story house now sitting where her magnificent skate park once had. It was the first time she'd actually seen it in the weeks she'd dedicating to hiding from the sounds and sights of the park being demolished. She went as far as turning her stereo up to unnecessary volumes just to keep the construction work from penetrating the silence and her heart.

"I hate you," she said. She wished she could speak the words to whoever owned that house, but an abundance of cars had been pulling up and people were filing into the house like zombies stumbling towards the last human to get the first taste of flesh.

Lilly let the drapes fall back into place and regarded her room with a dull interest and a blank stare. And then she suddenly remembered. The reminiscence of a friend was lucid in her usually disjointed mind and she looked at the photo frame that had burrowed deeply into her trashcan. Balls of scrunched up paper, failed attempts at expressing herself poetically, piled atop the cracked glass that had once protected the image of two happy people, two friends. Like the glass, the friendship had been broken long ago and Lilly felt the urge to cry again. Nothing, from that day on, had gone right for Lilly. She averted her gaze.

"I hate you," she repeated, but this time, the person she directed it at heard her. Hurt eyes watched Lilly, but she didn't feel guilty for her confession and turned away from her mirror. She needed to leave the room, the house, the state. She needed to get as far away as possible until she forgot about what had happened.

Miley Stewart weaved through the crowds of people towards her front door, finally hearing the abrupt banging over the pounding music. She flung herself away from the bodies, and smiled her apologies through the glass door before opening it and shouting a gleeful "Welcome to my housewarming party!" The stranger nodded and immediately made their way inside towards the table where the keg of alcohol had been set up. Miley followed closely behind, deciding now that enough people had made an appearance, she could intoxicate herself until she spewed.

Once her drink was obtained, she observed the packs of beasts she'd welcomed into her home almost cynically. These people, these 'friends of friends' weren't important to Miley. She knew that. She couldn't truly appreciate these pests until she was buzzed on alcohol or weed and once she'd reached a disorientated state, she fell in with the crowd and danced or grinded until her bones turned to dust.

At first, this wild, animalistic behaviour was just a cry for her father's attention, but as she stopped blindly participating in these charades and saw through the haze, she became addicted. She would've ceased her rowdy activities the moment her father actually stopped treating her as transparent, but now Miley wasn't sure if that would ever happen. Would he ever see her and would she ever stop? There was no answer.

She wasn't the perfect daughter Robbie Stewart boasted about. She wasn't like her brother, who was the successful heir to her father's giant record company. She wasn't helping them out and she wondered every night before she passed out on an unfamiliar couch or in a filthy gutter if her father even realised she wasn't in her room at their mansion. He was never home and when he was, he'd only talk to Jackson, Miley's too perfect brother. He could make a mistake and everyone would look past it, but no matter what Miley did, no one ever cared. If she did something good, Jackson did it better and if she did something different, there wasn't a human being for miles who could see past her father's ego and pride for his son. Miley was just a shadow and she wouldn't sleep restfully until her dad could look her in the eye just once and say that he was disappointed or he was proud. Anything, any form of compassion would sate Miley because she had been starved for her father's consideration the moment he got over her first words and steps.

Maybe if Miley's mother was around, Robbie might then realise she exists, but Robbie never talked about Miley's mother. Frankly, the most Miley knew was that she wasn't adopted despite the fact that she didn't fit into any cracks her broken family harboured. Miley was just the weed amongst flowers, the raven amongst doves, the alien amongst her family. And knowing this, she wouldn't stop killing herself until someone cared.

Lilly peered through the window of the house she loathed with a great amount of her being and scoffed at the drunken morons within. Some had lurched out of the front door, their eyes following her every move, some of the teenage boys grinning and attempting to whistle. Lilly ignored them and continued on towards the beach, but light crunches sounded behind her as she strolled across the shore. Lilly looked back with an air of concern, but sighed in relief as she saw her stalker was merely an unstable girl probably around her age. Their eyes met right as the girl tumbled forward onto her hands and knees and threw up in the sand.

Lilly rolled her eyes at the hopeless girl and kept walking, thankful for the crash of the waves that covered up the sound of another lost soul retching her guts out. Lilly hated being witness to these pitiful displays. She knew the partying types well and she hated them to say the least.

Footfalls crunched again and a hand landed on her shoulder, bringing Lilly to a stop. She turned around and stared at the girl before her. A mess of brunette curls fell past her collarbone and her attire was short of revealing. Tanned skin was practically flaunted and nearly glowing in the twilight. Lilly tried not to recoil as the smell of liquor itched her nose. A dazed smile and light blue eyes beamed at Lilly and she raised an eyebrow at the almost comical appearance of this beautiful, yet irresponsible, girl.

"Hi," she garbled, taking a step forward, but tripped over her own feet. Lilly caught her and pushed her back with a look of disdain.

"Do you need something?" Lilly asked curtly and the girl continued to smile.

"I'm Miley," she introduced airily. Lilly couldn't understand why drunks had to be so ditzy and inched her way back as a nauseous expression overtook Miley's face and she crumbled to the ground again, but this time instead of throwing up, she lied down and rested in the sand. Curious, Lilly nudged the stranger with her foot and gained no reaction.

"Lousy drunk is probably out cold," she grumbled to herself, not even sparing Miley a second glance as she proceeded on her journey by the sea, deciding that whoever owned the house across the street must be an awful case if they were anything like that pathetic girl curled up in the middle of the beach.

Might be the last update for a while. School is looming overhead.