He looked at me with his big brown eyes. A connection. No, it couldn't be...
"I understand." He brushed my bangs out of my face. "My dad died last year in a car accident. A drunk driver hit his car and killed him instantly."
The room fell quiet, except for my wimpering caused by the crying.
I dried my tears. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. I picked up his hand and held it in mine.
He looked at our hands that were twined together and took a deep breath.
"I...I went into depression. I never talked to anyone, not even my mom. That's why we moved here. To get a fresh start."
I took my hand away from his and turned around. Taking a deep breath too, I blurted out my story.
"l went through depression, too. Because of...everything," I stuttered. "I cut three times, but I got better." A tear rolled down my cheek, then my chin, and then finally hit the floor. "But now...I think that I'm going back. towards. it." I said it somewhat slowly, surprised I was even saying this out loud. No one knew this about me. And why was I telling a guy I'd only hung out with twice?
I expected him to pretend to feel sorry for me, because he probably wasn't the type who really cared. Even though he apparently went through almost-the-same-thing, he wouldn't wanna hear me bitch about this anymore.
But he said one word, a word that I found extremely powerful at the given moment: "Why?"
I turned around and stared at him. "My parents abuse me." I showed him the bruises and marks. I sat on my bed and he followed. He didn't say anything. He just hugged me. And that hug was pretty damn powerful. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed so hard.
Yeah, it was a connection.
