We've found ourselves sitting on the edge of the cliff that overlooks the quarry again. We've decided to do our studying here instead of doing it at my house. It's more open and freeing.

The sky is grey and bright, illuminating the area around us that we couldn't see much detail of before in the dark. Wild flowers sprout out of the ground beneath us which I stroke my fingers over. They're too pretty to pick. I have too much empathy to pull it out of the ground only to leave and forget about it.

The wind is strong against my skin, feeling like little pins poking into it. I wrap my hoodie around my body and rub my hands together for warmth.

"I'm sorry...for how I acted earlier," I whisper. My lips press together as I wait for the awkward moment to pass.

"What?" He sounds almost offended.

"I'm not weird or anything...or maybe I am, I don't know. But I don't know what you thought you saw. It was a panic attack. I'm not telling you that for sympathy, I'm just telling you because I don't want you to think I was doing anything strange."

Will's silent for a moment. After a while, I think he must've left, so I turn my head to look at him. He's just staring at me, his lips slightly parted, his eyebrows creased like usual.

"What?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"Who told you you had to apologise for that?"

Realising he wasn't judging me and was only worried, I gulp and face forward, scanning the view of the town which looks dull in the daytime, unlike how it looks in the dark.

I'm not sure how to respond to him, so I shrug my shoulders instead, playing dumb.

"Tell me," he begs in a whisper. "I'll fuck them up. Trust me."

I grin at his playful behaviour and shake my head. "It's irrelevant."

Will groans and lays on his back, resting his hand behind his head. "I forgot you're a closed book."

"I forgot you're...so persistent." I sound unsure as I say it.

He chuckles. "Lay with me."

I turn my head to look over my shoulder. "Why?"

"Why not?"

I lay beside him, lifting my coat hood to protect my hair from the damp grass. I stare up at the grey sky that the sun shines through, rays of light beaming over where we lay together.

"Will?"

"River."

I pull out a pair of earphones. "Will you play me some music? We only ever listen to mine."

He smiles at my request. I immediately take note of the way his face lights up entirely. "If you insist."

Will pulls out his phone and takes the earphones from me, giving me one bud before he plugs in it.

"Don't judge," he warns me, pointing a finger.

"I would never."

Caves, by Gregory Alan Isakov.

"This is my favourite song," he whispers, his voice carrying in the wind.

Will's favourite song. I'll be sure to remember that.

His music plays as we lay on the edge and close our eyes, taking the time to relax and appreciate the moment.

I'm not thinking about anything in this moment. No worries, no low thoughts, no noise. It's silent. Finally. And it's all thanks to Will.

I shouldn't rely on him to help with my depressing moods and low thoughts. In fact, I feel bad for putting this kind of pressure on him. I feel like I'm asking too much, even though I'm not really asking.

Perhaps it's a positive thing that I've been laughing and smiling a lot more recently, but I'm worried about becoming too attached. I'm scared that I'll rely on him for my happiness and courage to live, so much that if something goes wrong or he leaves, I'll crumple. That thought terrifies me the most.

What if I find my lifeline only to lose it?

* * *

Mum doesn't have to work tonight, so she's at home with me. Except she's not really with me. I'm alone in my room drawing doodles on a random piece of paper to pass time, while she's downstairs watching a video on her phone and finishing up one of her assessments for work.

I keep thinking about my dad. I think about the way he acted and how he treated my siblings, my mum and myself. I wonder what he must've went through to become the person he turned out to be. What happened to him to make him the monster I used to hide from in my closet? I still remember how I would blast music through my headphones when my parents were arguing downstairs. I couldn't stand the screaming and the sound of objects being thrown around, so I would escape into my closet as a means to escape. I used to pretend it was a train carriage, and I was on my way to a secret land. Back then, I was obsessed with Harry Potter, so Hogwarts was usually my destination. The music would block out the noise and help to calm me, it would speak to me and hug me in my time of need. Perhaps that's why I have such a deep need for music now; because it became something that gave me such comfort in my worse times.

My dad hurt me almost everyday. Not physically, but mentally. All I ever wished for was for him to be out of my life for good. But what if he was hurt, too? I know it's no excuse for what he put my family and I through, but I can't stop thinking about who or what made him that way. Perhaps if he had some help, he could've been a better person. But what if no one helped him along the way? What if I could be that person?

I could confront him about what he did and how he made me feel. I could make him understand that it was wrong, I could even help him to change if he's willing to.

Maybe that's all he needs. Someone to help him get better. No one is born evil. Some people turn into cruel beings as they grow, mostly because they're hurt by the ones who should love them the most.

I think I'd be willing to forgive him if he's willing to try and make up for all the pain and anger he caused. If my siblings or my mum don't agree with me, I won't go through with it. They were hurt by him as well, so I feel the need to get their consent beforehand.

Deciding to talk about the matter to my mum, I place down my pen and head downstairs.

She's sat on the sofa in the living room, her phone rested against a flower pot, and work sheets spread out on the coffee table in front of her.

"Hey, mum."

"Oh. Hi, River. Are you okay?"

I nod my head and smile as I join her on the sofa. I glance at her phone where she's watching a video of a man talking about something irrelevant to me.

"He kinda looks like dad," I say, immediately seeing the similarities between the man on the video and my father.

My mum frowns and slumps her shoulders in response, clearly annoyed by my statement that I didn't think over before I said it. "Do you have to ruin everything for me?"

My stomach drops and a sickening feeling runs through my body. The guilt that I feel is unlike anything I've ever experienced before, and no matter what I do, it feels like it'll remain somewhere inside me for the rest of my life.

When she realises that my face has dropped, she quickly grins and pretends that what she said was a joke. I know that it wasn't a joke, but I don't want to start an argument that was caused by my own stupidity, so I go along with it and pretend to find it funny. Deep down, I feel like dying.

I didn't mean to ruin the video for her. Ruining things for others seems to just come naturally. Perhaps it would be better if I wasn't here. It would be better for everyone else. They wouldn't have to worry about me any longer, nothing more would have to be ruined, they could finally live without me dragging them down.

"What are you doing?" I ask to quickly change the subject. My heart hurts and my throat stings. It's no one's fault but my own.

I'm sorry, mum.

"Work," she sighs. "I have five more assessments to do, and then I'm done."

"How long do they take?"

"About an hour. I've still got another month to complete them, but I figured starting now would save me a lot more stress."

"That's a good idea."

"Hmm." She pauses the conversation to tick a box. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing much," I answer, hesitating on speaking to her about the dad situation. "Actually...I was planning on doing something — just because I'm such a lovely person."

The situation is far from a funny one, but I figure that using humour is a good way to reduce the tension.

Mum ticks another box and then sighs. "You're going to the dishes for me?"

I pause, and then I wait for her to laugh or just ask what it is that I'm actually planning on doing, but she continues to concentrate on her worksheets.

I realise that I'm distracting her and that this will probably be the worst time to mention dad, so I stand up and walk back to my room.

"What is it?" she finally asks when I reach the staircase.

I pause and close my eyes. "Doesn't matter. It's not important."

"No, tell me."

"It's fine."

"Is it something nice for me?"

"No," I tell her apologetically.

Perhaps I should do something nice for her to make up for all she's done for me. It's probably what she's expecting. Amy and Sean always do thoughtful things for her, like buying her dinner or bringing her random presents that always makes her smile.

"Oh. Okay."

I creep back into my room, hearing my mum laugh in the background which shows me that she was only playing around.

Sometimes I don't understand jokes or sarcasm. That's probably because I overthink everything and feel I'm always doing something wrong.

My mum is an amazing mum, but everyone does things that makes others feel like shit, even if it's not intentional. Sometimes people can't help it, so I don't hold it against my mum for making a few comments that weren't made for my type of humour. I can't expect her to be perfect. I get things wrong all the time and she always has to put up with it.

Sometimes I feel bad that she has a daughter like me.

I bounce my legs and chew the inside of my cheeks as I stare down at my phone on the desk, wanting to call Will. The impulse becomes so strong that I press the power button and click onto his contact, so close to pressing the one button that will connect me to him.

But I don't. I turn my phone off again because I don't want to be an inconvenience to him. It's not fair on Will to shove all my problems his way.

I can't continue to depend on him whenever I feel this way.