~Elliot~

I know it's wrong of me to do so, but I glance out my window and peer into hers. She said she'd be here in 15 minutes.

That was 40 minutes ago.

I watch as she shoves something from a paper cup into a tiny bottle. She fiddles with the lid and puts the bottle into a drawer.

I wanted to write my poem for my weekly poetry class earlier but I couldn't find the inspiration. Therefore I had planned to do it after she left. Now I'm running late, so I sit on my bed, thinking of a topic to write about.

I look at the picture of me and Katie on my desk. It's been 2 years since she died, but unfortunately, that doesn't make it easier to accept. I pick the frame up and stare at it for a good minute, then I keep it back on the desk, face down. It's too painful to think about right now. Maybe later.

I shut my poetry journal, and someone knocks on the front door. Faith.

Finally.

I let her in, and guide her to our dining table. Maria, my little sister tilts her head and shoots an eyebrow up.

"This is Faith, she's here for a project."
"Hi Faith."

Faith waves at my sister with a small smile, and seats herself at the dining table. I turn my back towards Maria and sit in front of her.

She looks so lifeless. Like her soul has been sucked out. Her irises, though the darkest brown I've seen, seem dull in contrast to the red surrounding them. Her face, though beautiful, looks like the saddest face on the planet.

I recall the cup, and realisation hits me.

They were pills. And a lot. Enough for an overdose. She was going to kill herself.

I realise I've been staring at her, so I blink and turn my gaze downward. My thoughts start running like an untamed horse.

What caused this girl so much pain that she wanted to cease existence? I ponder for a while, until Faith taps her foot impatiently. I shudder and start talking.

"I'm Elliot. You can call me Eli."

"I'm Faith. You can call me Faith", she mumbles.

I chuckle, then I continue.

"So, I have a few ideas in mind if you'd like to listen. Or, maybe we can do this later if you're not up to it."

She urges, "No, please. We need to start. Go on."

I'm guessing she simply needs to take her mind off whatever just happened to her, so I decide to start with the discussion. She shifts in and out of focus as I speak, but I can see she's visibly trying hard to listen.

"Well, the project is all about culture. So I was thinking we could make a model of a French town, with boulangeries, la banque, cafés, la gare, boucheries and pattiseries, you know. Quaint French houses and all."

Her eyes glaze over as I talk, but they snap into focus as I slide her a glass of water. I repeat my idea again, but she doesn't seem to know it's my second time telling her. She takes the glass gratefully and sips her water, pondering over the idea.

She counters, "Sure, sounds great. But since we're going to be assessed on this, is it enough?"

I understand her point of view and agree, "Okay, let's do more. Anything you have in mind?"

She thinks for a minute, then hesitates nervously. I smile at her, reassuring her. She thinks for a minute longer and she begins:

"I was thinking we could write a song. In French. Music is a big part of French culture and the song would be in French. Plus I'm good with tunes."

I grin at her idea. We could top the class with all that! Plus, she's taking an initiative despite whatever it is she's going through. I say:

"I'm good with words! We can make this happen."

She lets out the smallest smile, but her eyes are still drooped. She looks so desolate and lonely. I try to think of a reason to take her someplace nice so she lightens up.

"Hey, there's an Art Exhibition in school the day after tomorrow. Would you like to join me? We could get some inspiration and also socialise."

She looks at me intently, thinking about something. Then she speaks.

"Have you bought tickets yet?"

I shake my head and say, "No, I was gonna go tomorrow."

She sighs and mutters in a small voice, "No need, I have a spare ticket. I was going to give it to someone but they're too busy. I'd like to go with you."

I beam at her. She seems to be trying already. I don't know this girl, but I am proud of her. We write down our ideas and plan out the month meticulously. She gets up to leave, and I lead her out after we exchange numbers for future correspondence. I watch as she goes home, calmer and more at peace than she was when she came.

After she is safely inside her house, I go back in. Maria distracts me from my thoughts.

"Hey Eli? I'm kind of struggling with these fractions. D'ya think you can help?"

I let her pull me to her room, where she sits on her desk and gestures for me to sit down on the chair. I take a seat and we revel for the next few hours in the mystic inferno that is Math.

Later, I sit with Maria, Mum and Dad on the couch and we watch reruns of Total Wipeout together. Despite watching people fail and fall left right and centre, I still believe I could conquer the obstacle course with ease.

I love my family. In a way, we are dependent on each other. Ever since the car crash where Katie died, we've been tightly knit because all of us have seemed to realise that time passes by quick; we need to stick together while we can. So I provide my family with support, and they do the same.

After dinner, I go to my bedroom. I eye Faith's bedroom with worry. Ever since I've come to the conclusion that she's suicidal, I've been worried even though I barely know the girl. Her light is off. Maybe she's sleeping. I open my Instagram and open her chat. Her last active is shown as 3 minutes ago. It gives me peace. She's probably trying to sleep. I decide to write a poem.

The note
tear-blotched, illegible scrawlings
on a sheet torn from
her math notebook-
she was never using it again anyway
iloveyous and sorries that were
left unsaid
instead she wrote it down
on that page
a goodbye undesired
they found it lying
on her messy nightstand
but the nightstand
didn't belong to her anymore
she was right there
sprawled on the bed still
but too far gone
to see her again
she was right there
but then again she wasn't
at least she
left an explanation
tear-blotched, illegible scrawlings
on a sheet torn from
her math notebook.

A/N:
Word count: 1211 words
That's Eli for ya! How do we feel about him?