Chapter 18

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Thank you to everyone who commented suggestions for the title! There were so many great ones I saw and I'll definitely be using some for future books! (Giving you credit of course) :)

Credit to: aturtlesdream, neji_is_life, and Little_Miss_Giggles for your title ideas that lead to "Dangerous".

Daniel POV

When I looked out the window again to look at the car, I saw it driving away. I wasn't that worried about it, but I locked my door anyway. About an hour later, I heard my mom come through the door with a different guy from the hospital, so I climbed up to the roof and stayed up there until I saw his car pull out of the driveway.

Should I even go to school today? I didn't think it was a good idea, but my grades were shit. My mom wouldn't care either way. I also wanted to look for a job today. It'd been a week since Ethan drove me home from the hospital and he'd come by every day since then to check on me or just hang out.

I texted Ethan, telling him I was going to school, knowing I'd get an annoyed response back soon, but I didn't want him coming to the house today and not finding me there. I didn't need my crutches or a wheelchair anymore, but my leg had a brace on it that I had to keep on for a while.

I started my walk to school, ignoring the weird looks I got from people because of my limp and the creepy glares from lurking gang members. The stares didn't stop when I got to school. I made my way to my locker then walked to Mrs. Cook's room to tell her I'd finished my makeup work. People shot me strange looks, and I tried walking faster to get away from all the attention and the whispers that followed me.

"...tried killing himself."

"No some guy in a gang tried killing him—"

"...shhh! That's not true what could he do to make someone in a gang that mad?"

I finally made it to her room, out of breath. Do they seriously think I tried killing myself? I thought, quickly closing the door behind me. I made my way to the chair in front of Mrs. Cook's desk and waited for her there while I pulled out all of my completed homework.

Finally, Mrs. Cook came in carefully, looking as if I would run away from her.

What the hell?

"Hey so I finally finished the homework," I said, expecting her to praise me for getting it done, but she took it without looking it over and smiled sadly at me.

"I think we need to talk about what happened last week." She said, trying to act understanding.

Come on, you're not a therapist.

"What happened last week?" I said bluntly.

"You know what I'm talking about. I think it would be a good idea for you to see the school therapist, Mr. Wilson, I've already told him a little about you—"

"Hang on— I'm not seeing a therapist!" I began, standing up.

"I really think it's for the best—"

"I don't need a therapist -I didn't fucking jump off that bridge— you don't even know me that well!"

After that, I ran out of the classroom, ignoring her calling after me and walked quickly back to my locker. I got my books for the next class and I turned around, taking a jump back.

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