Demi
It’s been hours since Nick left. I sigh. I have a day off from my job, which is at a restaurant. Not a good start for the actual career path I want to take. I want to be a singer, a world famous singer. I also want to spread my message to millions of girls. I was in treatment for three months a little after graduating from high school. I had suffered from an eating disorder, and also self-harm. I wanted to make my message clear – that no matter what your struggle is, you can overcome it.
I grab my writing notebook and start writing.
All the pain and the truth
I wear like a battle wound
So ashamed, so confused, I was broken and bruised
Now I'm a warrior
Now I've got thicker skin
Now I'm a warrior
I'm stronger than I've ever been
And my armor, is made of steel, you can't get in
I'm a warrior
And you can never hurt me again
I started sobbing while writing. I hear a knock at my door. I wipe my tears away as I open it and see Joe, Nick’s older brother.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“To see where Nick is,” he starts. “But I assume he isn’t here.”
“No, he isn’t Joe. He went to his friend’s house.”
He turns and stops midway. “You guys are talking again?”
“Kind of,” I stifle, thinking about how close I was with Nick and his brothers. “He was here last night, because he couldn’t get into his own apartment. The police tapped it off. A little boy got shot and killed here last night.” Joe’s eyes widened. “No, Nick didn’t kill him. He wouldn’t go that low to kill someone, even a little boy.” I pause. But he did kill someone. The man that killed the little boy, Nick’s bullet went through his brain and he just stopped breathing. I hate lying.
“Did they ever find out who killed the little boy?”
“The shooter was found dead. No one knows who shot him. Police say he could’ve shot himself because of the guilt. But it was too close to the little boy.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “Well, I’m going to find Nick. He hasn’t been answering his calls.” I shut the door after watching Joe disappear down another hallway. I let out a big sigh. I can’t do this anymore. This is why I stopped talking to Nick in the first place.
--
The next morning, I wake up by a text from Nick. I groan as I read the message. Hey, Dems. Thanks again for letting me stay the other night. I needed it. Joe had found me and I confessed to him. I also had turned myself in and spent the night in jail. I also confessed to also stealing a car. They decided to drop my charges, I don’t know why. Maybe because there’s something wrong with me, since they released me and sent me to get tested. I don’t blame you if you don’t respond to me. But I do hope we can start being friends again soon. I really do miss you. I debate whether if I should reply to him or not. I fight the urge to reply, I don’t want him to think he has my sympathy right now, that he might have something wrong with him. And the fact I have more to say to him in person, which can’t be said over text. I roll over and try to go back to sleep, blinking away the tears that fill my eyes. I miss you too, Nick. I hope everything works out for you. I hope you change. I need you back into my life. I hate lying. You know I do. But I am here to help you if you need it, but if you don’t, I’m totally fine with that. That’s part of what I want to say to him. Part of it.
