❝In which two people call up a helpline in order to find someone just as broken as they are. ❞
"Does...does it bother you that my dad's in prison for murder?"
"Well, judging by the fact that I moved away from America to get away from the memory of a...
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"You know what, Isabella? I've decided that I want to know more about you."
"You...you do? Why?"
"Well, sooner or later I'm going to confess my deepest and most darkest secrets to you and-"
"You really don't have to if you don't want-"
"Isabella I...I called up this helpline to confess. I called up this helpline because I've realised something. Keeping all of this inside of me isn't doing me any good. All these secrets that I have are getting so destructive that I can't even tell my closest mates about them. And that's seriously concerning because... if a secret is so awful that I can't even tell the people closest to me then...then what does that mean? Why has the secret affected me so much that I feel I can no longer trust the people around me? I called up this helpline to see if I could confess to someone who wasn't close to me. Someone who didn't know me well enough to pity me because pity...pity isn't what I want. It's understanding, Isabella. It's been a while since I've had an understanding with someone and...and we can't reach an understanding if we don't know each other that well."
"..."
"So...are you willing to open up to me under the knowledge that we have never met and never will? Because...I am. Because...because I don't know how much longer I can keep this all inside for and...and I would prefer to share it with someone who I had a little common ground with."
"O...okay. What do you want to know?"
"Well, first off, are you a serial killer?"
"Elliot, I don't really think-"
"It's a valid question. Anyone could call up this helpline. Anyone. For all I know you could be planning my death as we speak."
