"Patrick....I was gonna tell you but I-I..." Her words trailed off. I felt bad that she couldn't even tell her son that she had hemoptysis. I saw it coming though....I guess smoking Crack has really paid off isn't it. "I'm really sorry...." She began to ball.

She wrapped her arms around me gripping me tight, she cried into my leather jacket. I wanted to sigh, but being mute meant I couldn't do stuff like that. Her hug was like, like when you have annoying, spoiled, little cousin who thinks there better than you and only comes over on Christmas to they could get presents. It was like a cringe that was saying 'really?'

I hugged her back anyway. She was at time for need and she needed she needed me....I felt her relax in my arms. "I love you son, I'm sorry I never told you sooner." She said. I didn't say anything, because that's not what I do. I don't talk for anyone ever. Not if I'm being murdered not if I'm being raped, not if I'm being robbed or bullied. I should speak under no circumstances.

After she was finished crying, we cleaned up and went to bed. I lie in my bed, wishing things went back to the way they were before I met Pete, my stress level has definitely gone up since that day we met. I rolled over on my side and look into the black abyss in my bedroom, it was comforting, and quite.

I fell asleep after a few hours of nothing but comfort and I woke into the anxiety of the day. I reached my hand under my bed and the box was gone. Which meant the blade was gone....

I would be full of stress that comes from just thinking and it would be there all day. I got up beginning to get dressed, I put on my black convers, Black David Bowie T-shirt and a light jacket. I grab my book bag glasses and hat and head for the door.

"Son would you like something to eat before you go?" She asks me. I shake my head, I still wasn't on terms with food. I leave hurrying to my bus stop, Pete wasn't there....

I went to school....alone

I was bullied..............alone

I was pampered..........alone

He just never arrived, I had a sick feeling in my stomach. 'What if he was kidnapped and raped? My Pete what if...no what if he was just sick or something...' I thought. I sat at my usual table, with half of the school sitting with me.

Even though I was with a bunch of people, sitting and laughing (what seems to be at me but probably not) I felt so alone...

I finished each of my very boring classes and went home. I was greeted at the door with a warm fuzzy feeling; like a winter night with hot coco and cookies.

"Hey baby, mommas making cookies!" She says, I smile. I put my bag down and begin to write, "He didn't come to school today?" I handed her the paper. "Let me read it..." She read slowly.

"Who hun?" She asked. "Peter..." I wrote. "The neighbor boy who likes you?" I nod.

"Hmm..." she responds. "Why don't you just go over there?" She asks, I shake my head violently. "Why not?!" She asked, I wrote; "Because I will seem needy and helpless...I don't want him to see me that way..." she smiles lightly, "then stop worrying."

She tells me. She puts her hand on my cheek and kisses my forehead. She began to cough again...

This time there was more blood, and her cough was worse. I took her by the hand when she finished, I lead her to a chair and grabbed her a cup of water.

I grabbed my note pad and wrote "It's getting worse..." she read the not and nodded "I'm sorry baby, it is..."

She ate dinner, I washed the dishes and we went to bed.

This felt like repeat of yesterday, minus Pete kissing and hugging me.

I thought for sure today would be the day he asked me out....but he didn't even show up for school!

If I could sigh, I would. It felt like the moment when I would but I made a commitment to this.

I feel asleep to the thought of Pete kissing me. His lips were soft and aggressive, something I new nothing about but could still describe. He was everything I wasn't, he was like a drug that was to expensive to by but was addicting as hell.

I roll over on the other side, where my dark abyss looked back and me and my stomach growled. I got up from my bed, and walked down stairs and began to look for something to quickly then vomit up later.

I found my her left over. I began to eat savagely, when I realized the mistake I had made; I stop throwing the left over that were still in my hands onto the tin tray, I walked over to the sink and washed my hands off.

TRIGGER WARNING BEYOND THIS POINT.

I went upstairs to the bathroom, I shut the door quietly and got on my knee in front of the toilet, I opened the lid and seat and began to stick my finger down my throat. Soon after, I vomited.

I tried to be quite....but I couldn't...she came in..."Son? What are you doing?" I felt shame...she new it, she saw it on my face.

"Aw! Baby no, you don't have to do that, your perfect just the way you are...you shouldn't care what anyone else thinks."

Tears left my eyes, but not a single sound. She got down on the floor with me and held my head in her arms....this was going to be the first time I would start to call her my mom....