I turn back to him.

Then, I motion for him to go out the window and he starts to climb down the side of the house.

I sigh and start (trying) to climb down the house. Then, I placed my foot on a spot that was apparently slick. I found this out when my foot slipped and I completely lost my grip.

Then I fell down out of my window, (barely) fighting back a screech. I prepared to (crash, slam) hit the ground, but I was surprised when I didn't.

I don't know what happened for sure, but I opened my eyes and saw Craig holding me.

He sat me down and shook his head, "Watch what you're doing. You could've gotten hurt," he says.

"S-Sorry (that I keep worrying you by screwing up.)" I say looking down at my lap.

Craig shifts me in his arms slightly, "You don't weigh nearly as much as I thought you would..."

I grip into the front of his hoodie, "C-Could you stop t-that?" I ask looking up at him (lamely.)

"Uh... Yeah sure," he says.

"We need t-to leave," I say, and Craig nods. He starts walking away.

"Uh...C-Craig?"

"Yeah?"

"C-Could you put me d-down first?" I ask, my face getting slightly red as he nods.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry," he says tilting me and sitting me down on the ground.

"It's o-okay," I smile, "Thanks (for saving me even though I was about to hopefully die.)"

Craig gives me a small smile, then we start to walk away from the house again.

"So, what was that all about?" Craig asks me.

I scratch at my arm, tracing over the newest scars (that still have dried blood on them,) "W-Well, you see m-my parents can't know I-I'm home during school hours. I-I'll get in t-trouble (I'll be beat.)"

"Oh," Craig says, "That makes sense."

We walk in (awkward) silence. I continue to scratch at my cuts.

"So... Uh y-you and Bebe huh?" I ask awkwardly staring over across the street.

Craig doesn't say anything for a minute.

"Umm... No. We're not like that... It's weird right now," he says.

I think I said something wrong. I don't think that was an actual answer either.

(It wasn't.)

(He must be at least fucking her. There's no way they're just friends. Plus, neither of you guys asked if you wanted to go out. Maybe he does love you, but he doesn't want to date you...)

How does that make sense? (It does in some way.) Apparently.

"S-Sorry," I mutter still staring across the street. (I don't want to mess anything else up.)