James' POV

Every day there were more and more things to do. School was still in session but the worst part hadn't even begun yet. It's not my first rodeo, nor was it anyone's, but they simply seemed to get harder and harder to live through and to pass in as we get older.

Over the years I've tried several techniques for tests and exams but none of them worked perfectly. Maybe there wasn't a perfect method but all I needed was one with a 99.9% success rate. Alright, alright I'd settle for anything with over 85% of success.

I knew that this short period of my life would be hard and demanding, however I had no clue just how much. My future, like everyone else's, was depending on these exams and we all know what failing them means...

In my eyes, the school system needed a revamp, mainly because the method that was being employed no longer worked. It's too outdated as it's been this way for at least a hundred and fifty years which only meant everything had improved tremendously except the educational system and that simply wasn't right. Education had always been the foundation on one's future and life in general.

Sadly, my frustration was pointless as my point of view was known by both faculty and pupils, despite there not being changes. Change was imminent, even if it's not embraced, but there were more important things to focus on, such as filling your pockets with taxpayers' money and killing the only planet we can live in. Those were, most times, more important than raising the people of future as good as humanly possible so yesterday's mistakes were mended and preventions and advancements were made in all fields.

Something that should be taken into consideration was, without the slightest doubt, one's mental health and the damage society can and kept doing to it.

If this was an important factor, no exams would be performed and shoved down one's throat if they were not in a good place mentally. However, it seemed to be a parenthesis so I had to cope with it and somehow manage to get a genius score on my finals.

My everyday outfits had changed, embracing my new challenge. I went from decent-looking clothes to baggy and old ones or even pyjamas. Whatever it was, from as long as it was comfortable and agreed with the weather would be what I put on my back. These clothes were officially named my battle gear, the exact same ones I used after about a month of never taking off the same pyjama due to heartbreak.

I lost more than just my girlfriend that day and it was hard, extremely hard, but I was managing to get back on my feet and embracing my new reality whatever it may be. Closure was also something I seemed to be getting, despite never thinking it could be possible.

After one bumpy ride from the uncharted waters of depression, everything seemed to be going better and there was a slim chance of me reaching for that light at the end of the tunnel.

For the first time in a long time, I was able to look at myself in the mirror and smile, liking what I saw and regaining the sparkle of hope and happiness my eyes once held. I took resumed taking good care of myself, I jogged, well I ran, trying to escape my thoughts sometimes, and even accepted my sister's offer on a new clothes and a decent haircut. Although I agreed with the sleek and trimmed cut, I was able to get a settlement and maintain my bangs as a reminder of my old, goofy self.

Another healthy habit I had picked up during my battles was the effect and importance of a clean and tidy environment on your mind, it offered some peace and clarity. During my study breaks and before bed, I always tidied up my room now, it made me be able to fall to sleep faster.

Sadly, I hadn't been met that goal to the fullest lately. To an outsider, my desk should be studied by historians as its current state resembles a war zone.

It's been a long time, almost a year, and I never thought I'd be where I was at, mentally, at this stage but I was, proudly so.

Come to think of it, having gone through what I've gone through, exams shouldn't be a big deal. I've dealt with so much, from my dad leaving us to losing her and myself, I've always been on a bumpy ride to somewhere. I wished my life would ease up, let it be the material of fairytales from now on.

One thing that I seem to be lacking but that was my key to success on these finals was concentration, focus.

Method after method, after tutorial, after guide, after technique it wasn't coming back. Every attempt on my behalf to regain it seemed to fail. Maybe it was like Tessa said after all, it will come back on its own and the more I try to change the speed or anything about that process, the more I can be harming it and setting it back, completely reversing my progress in unthinkable ways.

Wise person that girl, or should I say woman. I hope she's been taking it easy and not going overboard on the tiniest details.

Speaking of her, I should ring her. It would be nice to cool off and stop stressing out about, about everything. She always sounded that way when she picked up the phone but, as we got closer to the end of said phone call, she seemed much more relaxed and less focused on school and freaking out over how if she doesn't ace everything she'll be eaten alive.

I understood it, we were all under pressure and our brains only knew how to make it worse but that didn't mean we shouldn't try to avoid it all...

I went down the wooden stairs, making the steps creaking as my feet touched them, and moved toward the modern, oak sideboard at the entrance to retrieve my phone. I often left it there to prevent myself from checking it and distracting myself during my study sessions. If I kept it far enough, I wouldn't feel the temptation overpower my judgement and had fewer opportunities of procrastination.

I turned off the airplane mode and, as I made my way to the kitchen for a snack, it started buzzing.

'Tessa,' the screen said and soon it added 7 other calls from the same number, hers.

"Hey, is everything alright?"

"'Ya think? It's nearly finals week! I-I need, call for help, James." I chuckled at her statement, despite feeling the same way.

"Same here, sister."

"I sure hope not," she answered promptly. "I-I'm in sort of in the middle of a breakdown. Anxiety doesn't do anyone any good, but hey that's life."

"I hate it when you talk like that," I really did but I knew the only thing I could do to help was keep on talking and so I did. "You are a brilliant person, remarkable even and you don't have to ace everything and be the best on all scenarios just so you can proof it to those who don't deserve you. Those who do, you've already stolen their hearts and souls and they don't mind, in fact they may very well be happy about it."

A pregnant pause later, she used that high-pitched but low tone she tends to speak in when surprised, pleasantly so.

"James," she stuttered "I-I, th-thank you."

"You're welcome," I let out with a small but significant grin on my face.

"Can I, you know, be honest with you?"

"Of course," I immediately replied. What good is it going to do if the both of us aren't completely honest with each other? "It's a two way street, that's how it-how we work."

"You're right, and here I am tossing and turning about something you've most likely alredy noticed. Uhm... Sometimes I don't feel like I'm the girl who works at the helpline, not when I'm talking to you, I don't. People have, they've started treating me differently," she began with a slow, hesitant voice. "My job, I guess that's I should call it, is, well, unusual.

"I know it," I interrupted her speech, well more like talked during one of her pauses. "It doesn't demonstrate weakness, nor has it ever. Doing what you do, any of it, is not for the weak-hearted. I wouldn't be able to do it, ever." I admitted, confident about the truth of the words I spoke let out.

"I would like to think so, bu-but it's doesn't quite feel like it."

"Who said anything rewarding is recognised by society with a smile? Sweetheart, you-you are talking to someone who has been depressed throughout most of this past year about society alienation."

Society was messed up on so many levels that not even pi (π) is a big enough to compare to the numerous reasons everything went wrong.

"We may have both laughed a little at that but you're absolutely right. You know, sometimes you are the one who does the helping and I'm the one who needs it desperately. I'm so glad that this-this weird-ass job of mine made me meet you."

If it were the other way around I would sure be 'awing' right now. She's so thoughtful...

"I don't mind, heck I'm glad I'm not this poor little me anymore, I'm glad it's not a one way street and that it's an actual friendship and it's not a shrink-liked relationship."

"I am too, I am." She admitted, I don't think I'd ever talk to someone as I do to you if it weren't.

"I don't even want to think about how my life would be without you in it, right now. It would, it would be so different. I-I wouldn't be where I am without you, that's for sure." I probably wouldn't even be here, I probably would have gone through with the suicide. I'm extremely glad I didn't, I'm not going to die anytime soon, not on my account, I'm not.

"D-do you think that you'd... you know? Go through with it?" She whispered, so low I could barely hear it.

"Yes, I think so. When-when I met you, I was at the end of the line." I couldn't see a light at the end of the tunnel, perhaps because the tunnel I was in was much longer than the eyes could see.

She didn't answer anymore, not after that so there we stood, both quiet but restless with my minds racing through the infinity of bad thoughts and images our creativity came up with. It didn't take long until I knew I had to change the subject or else she would only think of, of what could and most likely would have happened.

"Theresa, how is studying been? Come on, if we're going to discuss something bad then let's make it the damn finals. Aren't those bad enough?" I joked, knowing that, deep down, it was serious and we'd both be trapped thinking about the endless possibilities of the reality we'd live in if I never dialed the helpline's number.

"I know what you are trying to do," she said slowly, "thank you."

"You're welcome, I don't want either of us thinking like that. Not now, not ever."

"Ok, so school," she said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself to change the subject and don't worry about it.

"Ya, how is it going?" I answered, attempting to make small talk.

"It's awful, dah! I'm stuck, my head is stuck. I can't think anymore, I'm unable to do so."

"Well," I started as I came up with something I thought was going to make her smile, maybe laugh. "You seem to be making decent sentences with a pinch of formality every now and then so that's a good sign. Your brain still works!"

She did indeed chuckle at my petty joke, sometimes even the worse wisecrack can lighten up the mood.

We kept going at it, talking back and forth for an hour. It was nice and certainly allowed us to relax and decompress.

At the end of the call, we were both grabbing a snack, making it our dinner, and then heading straight to bed.