[Still Cassie POV]
I watched as a nurse help Justin get ready to go. He seemed so reserved. He never said anything. He just put his clothes on and sighed. and each sigh sounded like he would cry any minute.
He dressed in jeans, a tshirt with a black hoodie and white shoes.
"He's ready Ms. Davis." The nurse says. I nod and smile watching her walk out the room, a sympathetic look on her face.
"Justin... It's time to go." I say. He stands up from the bed, his head down as. He walked towards me slowly.
As we were at the desk, Justin stood beside me. His hoodie was now over his head and he kept his head down. After signing him out, we walked out the hospital.
The sun was shining and the air was fresh. I look at Justin to see his eyes glossed as he took in a deep breath. He hadn't been outside in a year. He looked like a baby fresh out of the womb.
"C'mon Justin." I say sweetly, directing him to my car. He looks at me for a brief moment before following me to my car.
He stared out the window the entire drive. Not making a sound. It was beyond quiet. And it hurt.
Soon we were at my house. He gets out the car, silently and closes the door.. Silently. As we walk up to my house, he stares up at it. He had this look of fear in his eyes.
"Come in." I say opening the door. He looks at me then the ground before walking in.
He sits on the couch, pulling at his hoodie. He never made eye contact with me. He kept his head down and never even acknowledged me.
I need to hear him talk. I just want to know he's not crazy.
"Justin..." I say softly, sitting in the chair across from him. He doesn't respond.
"Sweetheart... I'm here to help you. And I can't help you if you don't talk to me." I explain.
He sighs deeply again, this time a sniffle leaving his lips.
"Justin... I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you." I say.
A few minutes passed and I had given up. Maybe he'll talk when he's ready. I sigh frustrated abs get up from the chair.
"I-I'm n-not c-crazy..."
I pause. Did he just-
My eyes widen as I turn around to face him.
"What?"
"I-I s-said I-I'm.. N-not c-crazy." He stammers.
"I know you're not." I say sitting back in front of him.
"M-my mom p-put m-me h-here. S-s-she t-thinks I'm c-crazy."
My eyebrows furrow. "Why do you think that?"
"S-she found me... I-In my r-room w-with an e-empty pill b-bottle. I-I may b-be suicidal but I'm n-not crazy." He sniffles staring down at himself.
"Why are you suicidal?" I ask.
"I-I'm n-not t-talking to a-anymore t-therapists."
"Why?"
"B-because... T-they d-don't understand. N-no one does."
I bite my lip. I can't approach this as a therapist. I have to approach this as his friend.
"What if I'm not a therapist?" I ask.
His eyes shoot to me, a death glare evident in them.
"I mean... What if I treat you as a friend and not as a patient?"
He looks away for a few seconds. "I-I don't h-have f-friends."
I get up, walking over to sit beside him. "Well... Now you do." I smile.
And for the first time since I met him, he cracks a smile. And I literally melted.
(A/n: comment for next part. Love you for reading😘🌺)
