Live

Nick

"Ms. Montoya," I started to speak but she cut me off.

"It's Kate," she corrected.

"Kate, I was called because your manager, she believes you aren't dealing with your feelings." I explained to her.

"Have you ever wanted to die?" She asked with big round eyes. She didn't look depressed on the outside, nor crazy or any emotion. Just normal. But the vibe coming over her. It was just wrong.

"Well of course you have, everyone does at some point. Did you when your German Shepard died last year? Or when your mother left your father 8 years ago?" I had never met this woman before, and she knew so much.

"How did you know those things?" I tried to ask but she kept talking.

"When they want to die, They ask God, or who ever was mistakenly given the advantage to create us, to end them. For other's sake or for their own. I want to die. But that would be a blessing. We are forced to live. Who really wants to do that. They think living is having a family through good and bad and then it becomes your final days. That's not living though. That's death. The boringness, shock and devastation. It's fun. Death is nice, always the same. It takes us away from reality. For your information, I'm not hiding away from my feelings. I know exactly what they are. I just choose to not make it anyone's deal. She is only upset because after the death of my father, who was sadly discovered by myself to have died of suicide, I went sky diving, I was living." She explained this without any emotion, no tears, no fear, no anger. She was just okay with it.

"I think our secession is over today," I told her. She nodded and walked out. She was a model. A famous model. Kate Montoya. Austrian girl, who moved to America. 24 years old. Atleast that's what her file said. She was mysterious. She wore gold and nice clothing. But something sparked about her. I wrote in my binder. Every note about what I wanted to ask. What I needed to know. I drew a star next to one question in particular.

"Who are you?"