(ok, almost to the end, let's go)
(tysm for reading !! do vote if u do wish, it is greatly appreciated, ilysm)
nostophobia (n.)
nos·to·pho·bia
A fear of returning home. A fear of the past.
_______________________
I'll say it the way all unhappy endings should be told: concisely, angrily, and likely partially inaccurate.
The cop—a broad, Richardson-surnamed man—explained upwards of bare minimums to us as we were pulled out of the motel room, introduced to yet even more cops stationed in black and white cars in the parking lot. The other cop—Lombardo, the unhappy sheriff—was content to shrug at every given question.
Richardson ordered me to sit on the curb. I asked, "Why?"
"You two were reported missing and a danger to yourselves and each other," he said.
Haru was sat on the farther end, Richardson and a different cop between us. I complied for only the moment before rising back to my feet. My heartbeat thudded viciously in my ears.
"Who reported it?" I demanded.
"Sit down, kid."
"No. We're nineteen, you can't make us do anything."
He held out his hands. "Calm down. We're more here for him than you." Richardson gestured at a trembling Haru.
"Why?" If anything, it should've been the other way around.
"We got wind he's off his medication," he said. "That you two are in a suicide pact with each other."
I broiled as the culprits began to narrow down.
"It's not like that," I said. "And he's not on any medication."
"Hey." Richardson held up his hands. "Any person with a suicidal history is a red flag on our radar."
"You can't force us anywhere," I snapped.
"With good reason, we can. Now sit down and don't make this difficult."
Haru stood, pushing by the cop to grab my arm. "Angel," he said. "What's going on?"
The cop snagged him. I reached to shove him away, but Richardson caught my arm.
"You're not making yourself a good argument," he hissed. "Sit down."
"This isn't even legal!" I said.
"This is for your good."
"You believe any report someone puts without question?"
"This isn't without proof." He glanced at my phone in my back pocket. "We're taking you back to California. You two are done here."
Haru said, "No."
I hesitated. Blood pulsed loud as ricocheting bullets.
Haru grabbed my hands. "Angel," he said. "What are we even—"
"It's okay, you're nineteen, they just have to take us down to clear shit up," I tried. My hands clutched his, either to keep them or my own from shaking. "It's okay. Promise. We'll go with them."
"What?"
"Just trust me. We just need to clear this," I whispered as the cop reached to pry my hands off of him. I tried to memorize the beat of his heart. "Go with them. I'll come and find you, okay?"
أنت تقرأ
Suicide Buddies
قصص المراهقين"My mother once told me there are three, and only three, truly defining moments in your life. One: When you don't know. Two: When you realize you don't know. Three: When you know. This is about the third one." --- Angel Young is going to die. Or at...
