High school.

Thirteen.

“What do you want from me, why am I here?”

“Your English teacher informed me your grades have dropped and that you seem down.”

“Oh, and?”

“I want you to talk. I want you to tell me why are you feeling down.”

“And after I tell you? What happens then?”

“I can help you.”

“Oh, right. You think you can help me. You think you can solve all my problems. You think that you will understand. You actually think that a few words will make everything better. Guess what? None of that works. You can’t help me. None of you can help me.”

“Then who can help you?”

“Only God can help me; only God can make everything better.”