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I stood on the edge of the bridge, looking over the railing into the dark water below. It was only 10, so no one would be able to see me in the water until it became light again. If I didn't die on impact, that would still give me enough time to drown before someone found me.

What would it matter if I did jump. I wouldn't have to hurt anymore. No more lying about what I did and when I did it. My place would be filled within a week. I wasn't important there. Not that I've ever been important anywhere. If I did jump, I wouldn't have another nightmare. My past could no longer haunt me.

I didn't realize I had been crying until I tasted the saltiness of a tear on my lip. I quickly wiped my face with my sleeve, and looked into the calm night. My eyes were dry, but I had stopped myself from crying anymore.

I sat down on the railing of the bridge, sitting and thinking for a while.

Car tires screeched behind me, and footsteps were quickly heard.

"Yo. I'm Brendon." The person asked, pulling me back a little bit and then sitting next to me.

"I'm Catelyn." I said, looking up and meeting the gaze of his worried eyes. I quickly looked away.

"Are you okay?" I shrugged. "Can I give you a hug?" I nodded, and leaned into his arms as he hugged me.

I felt like I should be feeling something. Like I should be crying. But I couldn't. I didn't feel anything.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" I shook my head. "Do you wanna just drive around with me for a little bit? I don't want to leave you alone."

Worse case scenario, he kills me. Which is what I want. Then it would be even better, because it wasn't my fault.

I agreed, and climbed into the passenger seat of his car.

"Here." He reached into his back seat and handed me a blanket.

"Thank you." I managed, wrapped the blanket around me. The clock told me it was already midnight.

We drove in silence for a little bit, then he started asking questions.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Brendon asked me, pulling into a McDonalds.

"I don't know." I answered as he ordered food. I tuned out when he was ordering, but he handed me a medium fry, and a water bottle, then set a black coffee for me in the cup holder. "Thanks."

"Where do you live?" Brendon took a sip of his drink, then began to drive again, back on the highway.

"Orphanage on Brown Street." I mumbled, opening the water bottle.

"How long have you been there?" He glanced over at me, making sure I was okay.

"Since I was 8. I'm 14 now." I answered, starting to focus more on the song playing from the radio.

"Did your parents-"

"They werent bad people." I cut him off. "Everything that happened I deserved." He stopped at a traffic light, and looked at me with sad eyes. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what." He rose an eyebrow at me.

"Like- like I'm a lost puppy or something. I'm not. I'm fine."

"Are you?" He asked gently, and I slowly shook my head. "Have you ever talked to anyone about it?" I shook my head no again. "Talk to me. What did your parents do."

"It's just, I wasn't good enough for them. So when I couldn't do something right, my dad would start drinking, because I caused him stress. And then he'd like hit me."

"So first, I want you to cut that out." I looked at him confused. "It's not your fault. He chose to drink, he didn't have to. And you were just a kid. What he should have been doing was teaching you instead of getting mad."

"Oh."

"Are you tired?" He asked.

"I don't like sleeping." I replied. "I get nightmares sometimes, so I don't really sleep a lot. But I don't like being awake either, because when I'm awake I just want to die, and I can't do anything right. It's a lose lose." I shrugged.

"Here. Let's go to my house, and you can try to sleep okay? I'll call the orphanage and tell them what happened. Is that okay?" I nodded, and we rode in silence until we reached his house. "My wife is asleep, so we have to be kinda quiet okay?" He said as he pulled up his keys.

"Okay." I had the blanket wrapped around me tightly.

"Here." He led me into the kitchen, and I shut the front door behind me. "Take these." I looked at him skeptically. "Melatonin. Helps you calm down to be able to sleep." He explained, and I nodded.

"Thank you."

"Do you need anything else? Do you wanna take a shower, you can take one tomorrow too if you'd rather do that." I shook my head.

"Tomorrow."

"Go up the stairs, and to the first door on the left okay? I'm gonna go to the laundry room and get you a t shirt to put on."

I went up the stairs as he instructed, but couldn't wait for him to get me a t shirt. I walked into what I'm assuming was the guest room, and pretty much crashed as soon as I laid on the bed.

"What the fuck are - are you doing Catelyn." My dad slurred, stumbling around the living room with a bottle of vodka in his hand.

"I'm watching TV daddy." I answered, frowning.

"I thought I told you to clean your room." He took a step towards me and I leaned back into the couch.

"I did." I answered, and he quickly pulled me up off the couch by my wrist, dragging me into my room. "Ow, daddy it hurts let go." He lifted me higher, so I was more level with his face.

"Does this look clean?" I shook my head no, as he began to drag me into the kitchen.

"Daddy I'm sorry I won't do it again I promise I'll be a good girl." I cried, as he dropped me onto the tiled floor, I hit my head on the counter in the process. I felt the blood drip down my cheek.

"Little bitch." My dad screamed, kicking me in the stomach. "Getting blood all over my goddamned counter tops."

"Ouch, daddy stop." He didn't. The kicks to my stomach got harder, and I could feel my wrist brushing from where he had picked me up earlier.

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