~Cameron~

"Cami. Come downstairs for a minute."

"Yes mom?"

She took a deep breath. "Your father and I are splitting up. I want-"

"It's my fault."

"No-"

"Yes. Mom, it's my fault. He hates me. He's not leaving us, he's leaving me."

"Cameron, honey, I don't want you thinking like that when it's not-"

"But it is true, mom! It's all my fault, I made him hate me! Go with him, leave me alone like I deserve! Don't let him leave when the only reason is me."

"Cami, you're being ridiculous. None of this is your fault, stop it, it was bound to happen, the, erm, recent events just sped it up a bit."

"So I did do it."

"No!"

"Mom, just stop. We both know it's my fault. Go save your marriage. Don't bother with me." I turned on my heels and went back upstairs.

•*•*•

~Jaime~

I have nearly 30 pills. That should do it. I hope so, at least. Otherwise that's a bit of a waste of medicine. I don't want to do it a different way though. I don't want it to hurt. I've had enough of being hurt. Oh God. Why did she have to be so violent about it? Was the table really necessary, Cameron? Wasn't the door enough?

Guess not. Not for her, anyway.

It's 6:30pm now. I'm going to do it at 7:18. That's the time I was born, that's when I want to... Die.

It's seems so real when I write it. It shouldn't be real. None of this should.

Tell me, what did I do to deserve to live like this?

I want to understand why this is happening to me. I always tried to be kind, I never really yelled at anyone except that one thanksgiving when Katie ate my pudding. Is it because I yelled at Katie?

If so, you're a shitty God.

I was six.

It is because of Katie, isn't it? She had just brought it up before... the crash.

We were on a family road trip. It was my aunt, uncle, mom, dad, and three cousins; June, Katie, and Dave.

Out of the eight of us, six survived, and four were unscathed. June fractured her wrist and got a concussion, but other than that, everyone was fine.

You know. As fine as you get when your spouse/sister/brother/parent is dead.

It's 7:17 now. It's almost time.

Goodbye.

•*•*•

~Cameron~

"Cameron! Come here, please."

"What is it?"

"I have a favor to ask you."

"Yeah?"

"I want you to go apologize to Jaime and his family. They've been through a lot and-"

"Mom, I'm dizzy."

"What?"

"I'm having an episode," I sighed.

"A wha- oh. That. The mental disorder that you forgot to tell your parents about."

"I'm sorry, okay! But I can't talk to Jaime."

"Why not?"

"Well, a) because I'm having an episode, and b) because I have nothing to apologize for!"

"Cameron."

"Mom."

"Yes you do. Now go."

"Alright."

I trudged to the door and walked the block and a half to Jaime's house. Reaching the door, I knocked.

"Hello, this really isn't a- oh. You're Cameron."

"Yes."

"I- what do you want?"

"I want to see Jaime. I'm sorry and I want to talk to him."

"He's in his room, I'll go see if he's willing to talk. Stay here a minute."

She walked up the stairs determinedly, and I heard her knock on a door. "Jaime? Cameron wants to talk."

There was silence.

"Jaime, do you want to see her or not? I need an answer." There was a creaking noise as she pushed open the door to his room.

"Jaime? Jaime! Jaime what's wrong, Jaime get up why aren't you getting up. Call an ambulance! Help! Jaime!"

She panicked, and so did I. I didn't call an ambulance. I ran upstairs.

"What's going-" Jaime lay on his bed, phone in his hand, a bottle of pills on the floor. I picked up the bottle slowly, checking the label. It was prescribed today, and was said to contain enough for about a week. I shook it.

It was empty.

I whipped out my phone and dialed 911.

"Hello, 911, what is your emergency?"

"My friend- pills- he's passed out, I don't-"

"Calm down miss, please. Where is your friend?"

"305 Lancaster Ave. Please, I don't know how long-"

"An ambulance is on its way."

"Thank you."

We waited downstairs for what seemed like hours, but was really about 5 minutes. When the sirens came, it was like a dream.

They took him on a stretcher, along with the pills. A man came back later for his phone and notebook, saying they might help them figure out if it was attempted suicide.

I knew it was.

Once again, it was all my fault.

•••••

That got depressing. Hi guys! Thanks for 300something reads here(and 1.4k on Norma(l), yay)! I'm tired. Cas out!