"what do you mean?" she asks

"Her son died 3 years ago, I was only 15 at the time. I was just baby sitting her 11 year old, to be honest I was just there for the money. I just let him do whatever the fuck he wanted, and I just sat downstairs with the bag of chips and watched reruns of old tv shows." I sighed

"Anyways" I continue " I never asked how his day was or talked to him. Sure I'd say the usual how was school, want anything to eat. I figured he's 11, he can do whatever he wants. right? he'd always answer ok and he would look sad or mopey, but everyone's like that. right, school's a shithole and it's worse."

"Calum, where's the boy now?" she looks anxious and worried now

"He died. Commited suicide right under my nose. It was just another night, he looked extra depressed and said bye. which is odd right? but anyways I go up knock on the door and ask if he wants anything, to talk even. He tells me to open the door and I can't" I shake my head " He's locked it and he wants me there, but I can't open it"

"Calum, why would he want your help? He wanted to do I wanted to right?"

"yes, but he changed his mind and I couldn't help him. By the time i rammed through the door, he was in his bathroom blood spilling everywhere. I tried to stop the bleeding, I tried calling 911 I did all the shit I was suppose to do and it didn't work. He died in my arms, and he didn't want to... not in the end. I just, just want to make sure you're sure because I don't think I can stand another person killing themselves if I can help them" I look into her eyes and she looks a little loss but she shakes her head and says,

"Why, why would an 11 year old be that sad?"

"He was bullied because he was different. He was bullied because he was gay and he was worried his parents wouldn't love him"

There's silence with us just kicking a rock along the pavement

"it's different for him, I have to Cal, I'm positive. I'm glad I can spend my last hours because you've made me happy... but I'm going to need this eventually. I can't be happy forever. I only have enough for one last hit and I don't want to face withdrawl and the pain of being alone."

"why can't you understand, I won't leave. I'll help you"

"no one fucking helps me, if they did I wouldn't be in this mess."

we've arrived at the park and we're just sitting on the swings

It's already quarter til 11, but I just let her rest her head on me and listen to her problems. She shows me her scars and tells me how she bought a cat just so she could tell people it was the cat that made the scratches. ,

"Where's the cat?" I ask

"It ran away, but Mr. Scuffles is resourceful he'll be fine" she sighs

I stare at her and wonder what she's thinking. She's wearing pink ballet shoes, pink tights, blue jean shorts and a loose grey top and my jacket.She doesn't seem cold, but she does seem out of it.

" WHy are you wearing that outfit?" I ask curious

"It's what I was wearing, when I agreed to his promise"

"his promise?"

"to make me popular" she laughs

"who?" I ask

"some guy, but it was all to get the attention of a guy I liked. He was 18 and I was just a sad moping 16 year old"

"all that, just for one guy?"

"he had this amazing smile, and he could play bass and he had tattoos covering his arms"

"must've been a nice guy?

""don't you understand?" she starts laughing and hugs me unexpectiedly " It was ...

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