"Thank you for loving me."
❀
No one would think that the Davy Wade would die, much less, kill himself.
He was the epitome of a good person. Some even thought he was the second coming of Christ. But when the shock and confusion of Davy's suicide co...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
t h e p r o b l e m w i t h d a v y
4
I vowed never to participate again in therapy.
After my dumb mouth opened and regurgitated some lame words, I made sure to keep it shut until it was time to leave. Once Hannah said dismissed, everyone jumped out of their chairs and headed for the door. From the looks of it, everyone liked therapy, but while everyone was racing to get out it seemed like an act.
I pulled on my jacket and also made my way to the door. I kept my head facing the ground as I walked down the long hallway of patients, and easily made my way to the foyer of the hospital. By then everyone had dispersed and the only people in the foyer were visitors, grouchy nurses, the smiley receptionist, and me. I was used to my mom always being ten minutes late, so I waited in the waiting area. Which consisted of five chairs lined along a wall.
I rested my cheek in my hand and watched the hospital breathe. Visitors were walking in either distressed, anxious, or calm. The calm ones brought flowers and suitcases, while the anxious ones looked like they just rolled out of bed, dazed and confused. The receptionist still smiled the same to every person that walked in, and the nurses still were running around trying to obtain something, or gossiping about the latest hospital drama. Even the security guards were in their own bubble. Everyone was so into their own lives that the only person who seemed to care about strangers was the damn receptionist. Except, it was her job to smile and look pretty.
How depressing.
I felt a body sit down next to me, and their warmth radiated off of them. From the corner of my eye I saw Dawson with his arms crossed, and his back resting on the chair. He smelled like cologne and pine, and he sighed through his nose. It bothered the shit out of me that he wouldn't talk to me. Not that I actually wanted his company, but so he could explain why the hell he was here in the first place.
Two minutes went by until I couldn't take it any longer.
"So we're really not going to talk about it?" I exasperated. A smirk grew on his face, and I knew I fell into his trap.
"I was waiting until you would break. Only two minutes," he whistled, "that is pathetic."
"Why did your parents put you in here?" I responded sternly.
"For the same reason you are, probably," he reluctantly answered.
"Davy, I know. But you're 18, even if they wanted to they couldn't force you to come here." I stated, still confused. He ran a hand through his hair, and clenched his jaw.
"It's complicated," he concluded.
"Bullshit." I immediately responded without thinking. His gaze snapped to me, and I thought he was going to be furious, but he just looked frustrated... with himself.
