if you've been reading, then you'll know what number this is.

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so, i guess i owe you guys another chapter, huh?


this is a friend of a friend. she's pretty cool.

go check this stuff out, okay?


“Um…” Timmy stammers and tries to figure out how to deal with the situation. “Me and Damian are going to go for a little walk.”

“Here.” Marcus tosses a square foil package at the two of us. “Don’t be gone too long.”

He catches it and grimaces after realizing what it was.

“Yuck. No thanks, Marcus.”

A condom. How thoughtful.

“Just keep it,” he turns it back down. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

The words slur of his tongue, and the scent of alcohol lingers around the group of teenagers.

Nobody stares when one of the girls lets out a piercingly loud shriek. Everyone is used to noise by now.

“Come on.” I’m being led away from the other people, away from the intoxicated circle.

It’s okay, you can breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes as soon as we’re out of earshot. “I just can’t stand any sorts of drugs or alcohol. They make people do horrible, regrettable things.”

I couldn’t agree more. I wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for all their side effects.

“So, how are you? It’s so pretty, huh? It’s really green out here, I love it.”

Do you really?

I shrug and stare at the path ahead. The stones are beaten down into the ground after years and years of use, trampling by thousands of different feet. The sandy underneath comes up between the cracks and fills them tight. It’s a natural caulking.

We come to a bridge, twenty feet over a small river and planks constantly damp and creaking. It’s dead secure, inch thick metal bolts keeping it from crashing down.

Justin insisted it was safe before I’d step foot out onto the crossing.

“I promise.” He was always promising. “You’re not going to fall. It’s safe.”

I trusted him. There was no reason not to trust him.

He never told a single lie.

“Baby, would I lead you out here if it was going to collapse? I love you too much to let you go.”

“But at least you would die with me, if it did fall,” I argued with his logic.

He shook his head, back and forth, back and forth. “You seriously have too much time on your hands. Get out on the bridge.”

I stepped forward, only to be cut off by a little girl on her bike, pink streamers trailing behind her and training wheels catching on every corner and rough edge. She wobbled with the intensity of a teenager on a ledge, just inches from their death.

“Soooooooorry!” she called out. It was just manners, pounded into her brain after six years of having it pounded into her skull.

“Stand up straight.”

“Always say please and thank you.”