Breakdown.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white as I drove down the all too familiar streets. My stomach churned, and in an attempt to soothe my nerves, I let a deep breath escape my lungs. It didn't help much, and I still felt like I had a huge weight sitting on my chest.

It was surprisingly sunny outside. It had been raining and storming for the past week straight. But now, there were no clouds to be seen. A light comforting breeze and the sun's warm rays were a nice change.

I noticed my friend's tiny black sports car that drove in front of me was slowly coming to a halt. I parked my own vehicle, Dylan's Cadillac, behind her Mustang.

While she got out of her car and made her way across the lawn, I continued to sit still in my driver's seat, still tightly holding onto the steering wheel. I had already cut the engine, but my body seemed almost frozen as I stared blankly at the dashboard.

"Bree!"

I heard my friend's call and snapped my head towards her direction, though still not moving the rest of my body much. She stood near the front door, her caramel-colored hair tied back into a high pony tail, and a look of concern washing over her face when she realized I hadn't even unbuckled my seat belt yet.

I let my eyes look away from her and examine the rest of the outside of the house. It was a simple one-story with two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen that I used to adore, a living room completed with a ridiculously huge television set and all of Dylan's video games. And a garage that he put a pool table in rather than his cars.

I could remember our first day here like it was just last week. I had refused to lift a finger, so Dylan and his friends did a majority of the work when it came to moving in. I had paid them in beer at the end of the day, though.

Kayla's torso suddenly appeared in front of my passenger's side window. I jumped, startled, and realized I had been lost in my thoughts as I stared at the house.

She tapped her fingers against the glass and I quickly unbuckled myself. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the black leather seat beside me, and without showing much hesitation, slipped from the car.

My legs felt wobbly as my feet hit the hard pavement, and I almost felt light-headed as if I were going to faint.

"You okay?" Kayla asked softly.

I brushed a piece of my dark hair away from my face and sighed. "Yeah..." I paused. "I think so."

"You ready to do this?"

I shrugged my shoulders weakly, shutting the car door and slipping the New Ports into the back pocket of my jeans. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Her eyes saddened and I walked beside her as we slowly made our way towards the house.

The same house I had lived in for the past three years, since my twenty-first birthday. The house that had become my home. The house I was now leaving behind.

Like a million other times before, I unlocked the front door and walked inside. It was weird not having Bonez greeting me, though I knew he would later once I got back to Kayla's house.

It was quiet. Too quiet. It was almost uncomfortable.

I set my keys on the tiled counter top in the kitchen, wondering where I should start.

"I should probably get the bedroom taken care of..." I mumbled, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Kayla looked as lost as I felt inside. But she nodded, "I can start in here. Where are the boxes at?"

"In the garage." I began making my way towards the master bedroom, quickly adding, "Just get the small stuff for now!"

"Alright!" She called as I disappeared into the dark hallway.

I stood in front of the closed door. Shutting my eyes briefly, I grasped onto the door knob, letting my hand linger for a moment. I really didn't want to do this right now.

But I knew that I had to.

I pulled the door open, and again, I was met with an immediate uncomfortable silence.

The bed was still unmade since I had never bothered to fix it before I left the last time. The curtains over the windows remained closed, causing the room to look especially dark.

I sucked on my bottom lip, feeling lost yet again.

I was walking into the room- my room- and it was like I was being smacked across the face by every possible memory.

I sighed lowly, running a hand threw my hair. A part of me wanted to just turn around and completely forget about what I was going to do here today. But that would be the easy way out. I would simply be avoiding the problems that were constantly on my mind.

Reluctantly, my first movement was towards the window. I pushed the dark curtains open, hoping to brighten the room up. I could see the cars still parked on the street in front of the house. I frowned, realizing I should probably leave the Cadillac here after today. It was Dylan's, after all.

I wrinkled my nose at the thought and turned back to the rest of the room. It was hard to decide what exactly belonged to me considering Dylan and I had bought almost everything together.

Slowly, I eased myself onto the bed. I sat on the very edge and opened the top drawer of the bedside table. There wasn't much inside. Mostly old bills and garbage. There was as an old crumbled picture at the very bottom, and my eyes scanned over it immediately after I found it.

It was old, I realized quickly, because for the past few years I simply uploaded all of my new pictures onto my laptop. I couldn't be bothered to actually get my photos developed at a store anymore. And also, my hair was blond. Bleached blond, at that. I cringed at the sight. I must've only been nineteen or so because at that point in time, I was a complete Britney Spears wannabe.

I was wearing nothing more than a neon blue bikini. Dylan's arms were wrapped around my shoulders from behind, and it was his afro-like hair that finally caused me to crack a smile. We looked like a couple of freak shows back then.

My smile was short-lived and faded as the memory was forgotten. I looked away from the old snapshot, tossing it onto the top of the nightstand, and glanced around the room.

Empty. Nothing.

Dylan had been gone for almost an entire year. And when he was home, he hardly spent any time in this room anymore. The familiar anger washed over me again like it had been for the past week.

I was angry. Furious, actually, and lonely.

Even with my very best friend being just in the other room, it wasn't her comfort that I wanted.

I scowled and walked to the closet. Since Dylan was gone so much, not a whole lot of his clothes were left. A few old t-shirts were hung up and a pair of ratty Converse that had been pushed into the corner long ago. That was all.

I began pulling my clothes off their hangers and tossing them onto the bed. I groaned after a few moments, realizing how long this was probably going to take. I usually loved having so many clothes and pairs of shoes, but I was beginning to absolutely hate it right now.

I kicked a pile of heels off to the side and collapsed onto my knees in the middle of the closet. I fell back onto my ass, my back pressing against the inside wall as I pulled my knees into my chest.

I buried my face into my thighs and pretended to be invisible, wondering if I was really making the right choice by leaving Dylan.