polaroids

| save me |

Rue could feel the blood rushing to her head. The drum of her own heart in her ears. The dryness of her tongue. The hollowness in her soul.

'Ave, it's Rue.' Tom said, leaning against the door.

There was silence.

She stood as still as the silence on the other side.

Tom sighed once again, lifting his hand to knock again, but he was stopped by the door opening. It created a gushing movement of wind that hit Rue's face, dragging her back to her senses.

A broken boy stood half-revealed in the doorway.

Tom backed away, leaving them alone.

She looked at him, but at the same time she wasn't really looking at him. He did the same. His usually bright grey eyes were empty and dull. Like a murky sky after a cyclone has left. His face looked paler than usual, maybe even thinner. She wondered if he had even eaten anything at all. His hair looked more like kelp from the black oceans than waves on a tropical sea.

He didn't look anything like what she had known him to look like.

He looked dead.

'May I come in?' She asked softly.

He didn't reply, simply turned around and let her in. She walked inside, shutting the door behind her. She heard a soft thump as he sat down onto his chair.

She looked around. His room must've looked nice when there wasn't a cloud of misery lurking inside it. It was unique. Most of the things were blue- the bedsheets on the upper bunk bed, the chair on which he sat (placed where the lower bunk would be), the trunk next to it, most of the posters and even the drawn curtains.

She walked over to a shelf filled with books and figurines. She recognised the poster above the shelf. Who wouldn't recognise a Star Wars poster after all?

'You've got a good collection of books,' she softly said, smiling to herself as she pulled out a novel.

She didn't know how to react to the situation she was in.

His reply was nothing.

She walked along to admire the decorations that were spread all along the walls. For a boy's room, it was much tidier than what Rue had expected.

It was almost five minutes past her arrival when she heard him speak.

It was more like a resonating string on the verge of snapping.

'I'm sorry.'

She turned around to see him, lips pressed together in a hopeless attempt. His gaze was fixed on the floor as she walked up to him and crouched on the ground.

'Hey,' she replied, her voice matching his softness. 'It's alright. You don't have to...'

'I was scared.'

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

'I was terrified. I didn't want you or anyone to see me like this. I thought it would help, to stay away. And now I think I've just made it worse.'

The silence expanded into too much.

Rue felt like she was treading on a rope bridge. One wrong step, and there was no retuning back.

'What happened?'

He didn't say anything for a few seconds.

'After the game, one of the professors told me about... about my mum. She was perfectly fine when I'd left home.'

His hands curled up into balls and Rue was afraid that they may start shaking from the pent up frustration any minute. His voice was bubbling up as was his anger.

'She was fine. She was fine!'

His voiced fell back to a whisper as he cradled his head in his hands. Rue didn't know what to say or even feel. 'Then why did she die?'

She stood up and held out her hand, almost as if she was desperately trying to soothe his spirit. Maybe it was the spur of the moment, or maybe something else that made her do it; Rue pressed her palm against his shoulder, channeling all of her emotions into it.

She knew he was crying.

He was just too afraid to show his tears.

'I... I don't want you to see me...'

'You can cry all you want in front of me, Avery. Just... just know that I'm here for you, okay?'

And although he didn't say it, he secretly pleaded in his heart and his head. That she would stay.

Save me, Rue Hawthorne.

You're the only one who can.

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