15 Reasons Why | "You Could Save Her?"

Cassette 6 Extend

I told the driver to drop us off near the base. So now me and Miguel were left alone to talk.

"You know Joseph?" Miguel asks. "Joseph?" I repeat. The short hispanic one with glasses? That Joseph? He's my friend.

"Yeah. You leaked stuff to him." Miguel glared.
"What did I leak?"

"So you haven't finished your tape?"

"Well..no."

He gives me a look to finish the audio tape. I felt myself gulp. I take the tape out and placed my earbuds in.

Play.

You said you wouldn't go. To whatever place it was. And like I said, I don't like those places much. But someone told you something. A friend of yours. An person I once knew. No I don't hate him, and I understand he was trying to make you feel better. Doesn't every friend do?
None did that to me.

And don't even say you did because if you did you wouldn't have let me died.
You wouldn't have let me cut.
You wouldn't have let me drown in my cries. You wouldn't have let me cut my hair so short. You wouldn't have let him pressure me more than the Reaper himself.
So don't tell me that you are my friend when you all sided with him.

I helped you all in your dying needs. Why couldn't you do the same?..

Clay.

You were thinking about going without me knowing. He told you something like that. "Just go and have fun."

There is so many ways that can go.

But like I said: "If you go I won't be the same with you ever again."

What did you think? What did you take me as?

Maybe I was just a pretty flower you wanted to pick because it was pretty.

Maybe I was just a "let me help you" then leave person to you.

I'll never know, Clay.
I'll never know.

It makes me sound like a married woman. My way of snapping and almost attacking. Yet I'm wiser than most girls.

Maybe I should kill myself. End it right now. Then I won't feel whatever pain gets thrown at me.
My family can sell my stuff.
My friends will just pity and forget in time.
The school can finally place or say "She was mentally sick" and cover all the evidence like they always do. They always do..

I wanted to cry. Hearing her say all this. I heard her before a little.

Clay, honey, if you could go to the past where we still last: please..please don't let those scars deepen. They weren't scratches on my stomach. Please assured my old self that I am happily safe. That things would get better. Tell my little self the things you truly want to say. If you truly loved me, that is.

I just want that enclosure of warmth and real love. Everyone does. I cry almost every night because I did something wrong.

"I did something that I'm not proud of."

Why didn't anyone catch that? That was the day after I cut myself. For my first time. The mark is still there on my shoulder.
Weeks after, maybe months. It was like a truck of depression hit me. And I started cutting on my stomach. The "scratches". I watched the blood drain down as I was in the shower. Down my skin.

I remember I stopped. For a good two weeks. Then the day you said you were supposedly gonna go, I cut.

Because I'm not good enough. And no I don't want attention. Not like that. I just, hate when a person stabs you in the back. We'll put it like that.

What would have you done, Clay?