❝In which a celebrity dials a random number in hope of finding one last thing to make him smile before he commits suicide at the end of the month.❞
"I'm going to commit suicide in one months time."
"I think you have the wrong number."
"It can't be t...
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Now that time had resumed, Cleo chose to focus on the music in her ears rather than the inharmonious tune of insults that had once again enclosed her. Any coward would have prayed for the two easy arrows that would fast-forward time to a better place. Cleo was smarter than this. She knew that attempting to bypass this would only end in more cuts to her character. It was events like this that made a person strong enough to last through to the end of their life.
Despite the retreating alpha female, the wolf pack still seemed intent on the kill. They surrounded Cleo, biting at her with words that she knew she had to ignore. They do not matter, she reminded herself, the only opinion that matters is your own. She responded back with words of her own, of course she did. No matter how often her mind drifted to the possibility of them having similar stories to the red-head cowering in the bathroom, she knew that Eddie had been right. His view of kindness steered her though the battle; the music in her ears only further ensuring her that this was the correct path to follow. She continued to fend off those around her in a perilous arena of words, laughing quietly under her breath at how accurate Eddie had been.
By now, a crowd had gathered.
However, by the time a fist was raised, the verbal conflict was too immersive for the participants to notice the sudden silence that surrounded them. It was far too late to retract the fist aiming for Super-girl's face.
Cleo knew this, scrunching her eyes shut as she braced herself for the impact.
Except, it never came.
After several seconds of confusion, she opened her eyes one by one. What she saw in front of her was a fist only several inches from her face, caught in the tense hand of a certain Lost Boy.
