How to Save a Life

Chapter 2

Third person POV

The 2 girls sat across from one another, each sipping on a drink while they spoke. Reneé took another sip of her coffee, taking a silent note of the fact that Amaya had gotten just a water despite claiming she loved coffee. "So, my manager would get you the contracts needed for it, and costs would be covered. We've discussed it with broadway and they've got a 2 week show break coming up, there's supposed to be extra rehearsals but they said you can do those over zoom. Sound good? You want to?" "Yeah definitely!" Amaya smiled excitedly. As she raised her hand a bit, Reneé caught sight of something. Cuts. The red lines went up Amaya's arm for some time, alarming the blond. "Baby...." Reneé's voice was gentle, concern evident. Slowly the actress reached over, taking the seventeen year old's arm in her hands. "Can I?" She asked softly. "It's not what it looks like! I promise! I just-I um-the set pieces all have really blunt edges and I keep getting scratched! That's all!" Amaya lied, face heating up as she began to feel her eyes get watery. Fuck. "Baby, it's okay. You don't need to lie, sweetheart. I know what it is." "No no no..." the teenager put her head in her hands. "It's okay baby. Let's go back to my hotel, yeah?" Reneé proposed, already getting up. Amaya was crying into her palms as the singer gently helped her up. The pair got into Reneé's car fairly quick, the drive being long and awkward before Reneé spoke up. "Can I see your arm baby?" Her voice was soft, empathy heavy in her tone as the teenager slowly nodded, allowing her idol to roll up the sleeve of her Poison Poison hoodie. As expected, red gashes were revealed. Gently and slowly, Reneé grabbed a first aid kit and began to clean them. Hearing the frail teenager hiss as the antiseptic wipe rubbed across the fresh marks made the singer's heart break. "I'm sorry Amaya, I'll be done soon baby." Reneé apologized repeatedly, wrapping the broadway actress's arms and gently pressing down on the adhesive to keep the gauze on. Once the first aid was put away Amaya's voice was heard throughout the hotel room. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with me." She apologized, nervously fidgeting with her rings. Reneé sighed as she grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. "Baby, don't say that. I see myself in you Amaya. And I want to be what I wish someone had been for me, for you. Does that make sense?" The teenager sniffled, nodding. "I just feel guilty. Your so....perfect, you shouldn't have to worry about some fucked up teenager and her problems." Amaya mumbled and added softly "You can just call me Maya or any other nickname. I don't mind." To which Reneé hummed. "Maya...sweetheart I choose to worry about you. Please, let me. So, how longve you been self harming?" Reneé asked softly, hardly catching the answer that left the teenager, "since I started broadway..." "And your eating disorder?"

Hi! Here's this. I know my writings mediocre but I promise it'll get better, I just don't really have a plot line rn. Suggestions? Opinions?

-Brooklyn