"Oh my god." I say, after Marcus finishes his explanation.

You're probably wondering what it was, but as I said at the beginning, I don't really care what you wonder. But once again, out the kindness of my heart, I will tell you.

FLASHBACK TO LITERALLY 10 MINUTES AGO:

"Talk." I tell him, my voice expressing no emotion.

"When I was 13...my dad got locked up in Prison. I had always defended him. I looked up to my dad. My mom would constantly argue with him and I thought women were just...bitchy. But one day, I found out that my dad has raped and abused my mother. That's why she called the cops. She didn't want him to put his hands on her again."

A tear falls down his face. This is a way that no one has seen Bad Boy Marcus.

"When I found out, I was 14. I confronted my mom. My mom started crying, and stopped going out, and going to work. I got a part time job to support us. It barely did. But it made me fall into a deep depression. After my first suicide attempt, my mom went back to work. I was still only 14 when I had my first suicide attempt. My mom went back to work. But once you get depression, it's hard to heal. I think you understand that." He says, looking in my eyes. But not with judgement. With sympathy.

He continues.

"When I turned 15, I got into an argument with my mom, and my depression kicked in hard. I ran outside and went to the shed to hide and cry. Out the corner of my eye, I saw a bucket. But the bucket wasn't what was important. It's what was inside the bucket that caught my eye. I could see a thick rope hanging out of the bucket. I scrambled over to it, and tied a noose. Our backyard was full of trees. I ran to a tree behind my house, but it was kind of far. I tied the rope to my tree and-"

His voice chokes up and he wipes his face with his palm.

"And I had brought a stool with me. So I stand on it and, well, you can guess what I did next. While I was hanging there, having the life squeezed out of my body, I began to regret everything. I began to regret hanging myself. As if an angel was watching over me, the rope breaks. It broke right in time. My vision was blurring, my face was numb. My face felt like it was filling with blood, and at any second my face would pop and I'd be a goner. But I mange to crawl to my backyard, and yell for my mom. She doesn't hear so she doesn't come out, but our neighbor does. She takes the rope away, and calls 911. That exact same day, I am put into the psych ward. After 3 months, I get out. I got out so fast because of my crazy improvement. We moved to San Francisco and I was still self harming. But I've been clean for 2 months. It's been two months since the last time I harmed myself."

He stops. There are two minutes of silence. His sobs have came to a stop but mine have just begun. The warm tears fall down my face, my tongue catching the salty tear as it approaches my mouth. We make eye contact, and I fight the urge to hug him.

With a small voice, I say "but I don't get it. Why did you ruin my life?" I ask.

"Because I was in shock when I found out that someone else has been in the psych ward. I hated myself for going to the ward. I thought it was for crazy people, psychos. So I've always hated myself for it, so I hated you for it too. But I saw your scars on stage. No one else mentioned it but I saw them because I was looking close for some reason to convince myself to stop caring about you. But it only made me feel even more like shit, because I can tell when scars are new. So I knew I had to tell you this."

"Oh my god." I mumble.

(It's back to the present now)

He looks up at me again.

"But I don't hate you, Brianna. I tried to act like I did but it made my life hell. I haven't known you long, but I know I could never hate you. I love you Brianna." He says, a tear falling down his face once again.

"And I am so sorry."

After 20 seconds of direct eye contact and zero words. He turns to walk away.

I tried to fight it. I really did. I tried to fight my urge, but I couldn't.

I jog to catch up to Marcus. I tap his shoulder and the second he turns around, I connect my lips to his.

"I love you too Marcus." I say after removing my lips from his, and we hug for what seems like ages.

THE NEXT DAY

March 30th, Saturday

I was caught in the moment.

That's normal right?

It's completely normal for teenage girls to get caught up in a moment and kiss a guy, right?

RIGHT??

I don't like bad boys. Okay, well this ones not so bad, but still.

I would never date him.

But do I love him?

I barely know him.

But do I love him.

Well, yeah.

But not like that.

That conversation with myself was all I could think of.

I can not stop thinking about how I willingly kissed a bad boy.

I willingly kissed the boy who made my month hell.

And I liked it.

But do I forgive him?

Not completely.

—————————

I get up and get a text from Marcus, asking if we can have breakfast together. I agree and get ready.

I put on some black thin leggings. I then put on a long sleeve dark purple button up dress that ends halfway down my thighs. I brush my hair completely for the first time in three weeks.

April 17th, I will no longer have to worry about brushing my hair, or anything for that matter. It'll all be over.

I let it hang down. I don't put on any makeup. Just chapstick with a small tint to it.

I grab a small purse. Out of habit, I pack it with my phone, my box cutter, and money. I put it around my shoulder and put on my ankle boot heels.

I then head out of my house. I wait outside and he pulls up. I get into the car and he smiles big.

"Hi Rose."

I give a small smile back. I'm not still mad or anything, but it's hard to come out of such a major episode of depression.

"Talk to me." He says, returning his eyes to the road.

"About what?" I say.

"Your life."

"You already know-"

"No. Tell me what I don't know." He says.

I don't know why. I don't know. So don't ask, but I told him.

"I suffer with Anxiety, PTSD, depression, blood addiction, memory problems, ADHD, and IED." I say. He already knew most of that.

"Start there. Blood addiction. What's it like?"

"Well I'm not a vampire. It's just, when I see blood, I have the urge to see more. That's one reason why I cut. The other is just-"

"Depression?" He asks, smirking.

"Depression." I say.

"What's your coping method?" He asks.

"What do you mean?" I reply.

"What's your safe haven? What makes you feel like your life isn't completely horrible?"

I think about this for a while.

"Nothing." I reply, honestly.

He frowns at me, and grabs my hand.

"Well my humor is my coping method. We will find yours." He says, smiling at me.

We arrive at the place. We get out and walk in.

It was a cafe.

We order and eat. Once we leave, he doesn't drive me immediately home.

It was fine because my dad was on a two week trip. He left me a text this morning. He would be back in 16 days. April 15th. Two days before my death day. How ironic that the day I am going to die, is the same day I was born 18 years ago. Well, it'll be 18 that day.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To my house." He says.

"Woah I can't meet the family, we are not dating." I say, jokingly, but also serious.

"I know, Rose. We are going to my house for other reasons."

I stare at him with wide eyes and he rolls his eyes and laughs. We pull into his driveway and get out the car. Instead of going in, we go to his backyard. He opens the door to a shed. Inside, is a bedroom. It looks like a bedroom.

I look at the roof. It's replaced with clear glass and you can see the sky.

"This used to be my safe haven. But I started using humor instead. Humor suits me better. But before I knew that, I used to come in here and look up at the sky. I have so many memories in this room. None too good, but memories. Building it is the best."

"Wow." I say, looking at the ceiling. The room was relatively big and the ceiling was definitely beautiful.

"I just wanted to show you an example of a safe haven." He says.

I smile.

He walks outside behind the shed and tells me to follow him. There's a bed of roses.

"I've been watering these forever."

He says.

"They're still alive?" I ask jokingly.

He nudged my side with his elbow lightly.

"I'll have you know I am a fantastic gardener."

I laugh.

"Never stop doing that."

"What?" I ask.

"Laughing."

I smile awkwardly at him.

"Or breathing." He says.

"Never stop breathing." He says.

"Death isn't optional." I say.

"It's inevitable."

He frowns at me.

"Yes but you do control if you take your own life or not. Suicide is not the way people were meant to die."

"Everyone's story is different. But there's one thing in common. It always ends. And some are just meant to end voluntarily." I say.

He sighs.

"I can't win with you." He says, giving up.

——————————