Depression(Michael clifford)

Six

        Michael didn't come to work the next Monday, or the Tuesday after that. In fact he wasn't in the whole next week, and I was beginning to worry, eswpecially after his little episode on Friday.

        I tapped my pencil anxiously after not seeing him for a week, hoping he'd walk through that door even though he was already two hours late. To my massive sirprize, he did. He was looking rough, his hair was sticking up about his head and his clothes were lose and seemed slept in. I gave him a long gaze before finally opening my mouth

        "Where have you been?" I asked quietly. Michael scoffed.        

        "What, little miss perfectionist couldn't work all by her lonesome?" He snapped. I recoiled a bit and looked back to my paper work.

        "No. I was just worried about you" I whispered, fidgeting with a pencil that lay on my desk. His expression sofened a bit at my words.        

        "Oh. Well I'm fine, so shut up" He growled, regaining his cranky image. I suddenly got a whole new image of Michael Clifford. He wasn't an asshole. He was hurting. I was finally able to see through that tough exterior to see the pained expression on his face. He was outright broken, and I felt the very urgent need to fix him. To mend him together with love and compassion, but he didn't seem to want that very much judging by the way e acted toward me.

        "Michael?" I asked about an hour before we were set to clock out. He looked up and raised an eyebrow at me as if to ask what, so I took that as a signal to continue. "Wil you tell me why you were gone for so long?" I asked quietly. Michael let out a loud obnoxious sigh to show his discontempt.

        "I was busy okay? That's all you need to know." He grunted. I looked back down to my work and frowned.

        "Okay." Was all I managed to squeak out. The next hour passed very quickly, and soon I was settling in my car and turning the key to hear only a sickly couching noise coming from the engine. I rubbed my face with my hand and let out an enraged yell. There was smoke coming from under the hood. I was screwed. I climbed out of the car and kicked the door with brute force, attracting the attention of a certain wacky colored hair boy. He approached slowly as if he was trying not to make me more upset.

        My car won't start!" I whined stomping my healed foot. Michael let out a brief laugh.

        "Don't go stomping your foot! I'll drive you home if you want me to" He said with a small chuckle. I looked up at him wide eyed

        "You'd do that for me?" I asked in wonder. Michael laughed again

        "What are work mates for? I'm not a monster, CJ" He said sarcastically. I nodded quickly before he could retract the offer and followed him to his car. It was nice, with soft, warm seats. It started with ease, and soon the heat was touching my face lightly. There was a calm silence about the trip, interrupted only by my giving of directions. It was quite peaceful, that is until I saw something that made my stomach turn

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