CHAPTER 6

Wesley was going to give me an answer, and he was going to give it to me now. Standing outside of Bas' home, anger bubbling in my blood, I balled my hands into fists. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" I yelled.

"How the hell was I supposed to tell you?" he argued. "It's not my job, alright? If Bas wanted to tell you, that was up to him."

"Still, you never thought to mention, 'Hey, Ky. Bas is Bipolar. So maybe you should watch out what you say around him.' I mean seriously, you know how many things I've said that could've been triggers? What the fuck, Wes?"

He put his hands up. "Hey, whoa. Like I said; it's his responsibility to tell you. Not mine."

"He told me he was tired of living, Wes! Don't you think it caught me a little, oh, I don't know... A little off guard? I mean, all those times when he told me weird shit I brushed it off! I didn't think it was serious! What am I supposed-"

"Hold on. He told you what?" Wesley asked, his voice suddenly stern and strangely quiet.

I shifted uncomfortably and looked away, the winter breeze licking my skin.

"Ky? When did he say that to you?" he questioned.

I still didn't give eye-contact. "Today," I mumbled.

Wesley kicked the snow, a chunk flying into my boot. It bit my ankle as it melted. "Well, shit! You should have told me!"

"Oh, well isn't that ironic! Considering you didn't tell me in the first place that he had-"

"No, Ky!" he cut me off. "You don't get it! Do you even know what Bipolar disorder is?"

"Of course I do! It's when your emotions go all stupid and change at random moments and you get all overly emotional. Stop taking me for a child!" I fumed.

"Jesus, Ky. That's a kid's definition of it. Bipolar disorder is way more complicated than you think." Wesley sighed. "Look, it's serious. These 'random moment' mood swings could last for weeks, okay? Even months. It's not like one minute you're sad and the next you're happy, alright? Bas is really depressed right now, and nobody knows how long it'll last."

"You should have told me!"

"That's his business! Not mine!"

I folded my arms, glaring at him.

"Kylie..." he trailed off, covering his face with his hands and releasing a deep breath. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain stabbing into me, spreading through my body and pulling at my heart. Guilt.

I felt bad, wrapping my arms around him. "I'm sorry, Wes." I breathed.

He dropped his hands. "What the hell, Ky." He sighed and hugged me back, his chin resting on the top of my head.

"You shouldn't be worrying more than you already do..." I mumbled into his chest.

"I can't help it."

"It's going to kill you one day, Wesley. I don't any other sixteen-year-old that thinks about others as much as you do. I mean it's good, you're selfless and compassionate and all, but you have to think about yourself, too. You know what I mean?"

He breathed out a laugh. "How does this have anything to do with Bas?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know I'm not talking about him."

I was talking about his siblings.

Wesley knew I was right. He was so used to worrying it was almost like his job. He took care of his father's mistakes and his payment was a nice jab, right in the nose or the corner of his mouth. Once it was his eye, and he came to school the next day with a purple patch of swollen skin. He was practically blind from one eye. Still, he managed a smile and said he'd got it from playing sports with Jack. Everyone knew he was lying.

"C'mon," I said. "I'll walk you home." Wes smiled, letting go of me. I pulled away and smiled back.

"Thanks," he said, his voice so low it came out in almost a whisper.

--

Wesley lived only a couple of streets away. Basil's house was a little farther - where the houses were big and nicely furnished. Wes and I used to tease him for having such a good lifestyle. He had two parents that loved him, a nice house, and his older brother was the definition of the perfect child. The area where Wes and I lived wasn't ideal - but with my Mom being the only who was paying the bills there was no where else we could really go.

I thought of my father sometimes. He had money. Last I'd heard of him, he was living in a nice city with his new, young wife. I could still remember him. When I was young I thought he was the perfect father. He wasn't strict, he was funny, and he acted like he cared. I used to like him a lot more than my mom. Now I hated him. He was fake. He never cared.

He'd come by to visit once - a year ago, trying to rebuild the relationship he'd once had with me and Skylar. I didn't listen to him. I told him to leave.

--

I opened the front door to my house. It made a loud creaking noise, which made my skin crawl. I slammed the door out of a habit, and looked around. Mom was sitting in the living room. She didn't acknowledge me.

I made my way upstairs.

Skylar's door was closed, like always. I sighed, lightly knocking on the door. When no one answered, I opened the door. Her room was empty. I stepped in, looking around. The walls were bright pink, so pink they almost gave me a headache. The room was a little messy, with clothes lying on the floor and papers scattered along her desk. I flipped one of the papers over, only to find a sketch of someone who looked oddly familiar.

Skylar was an amazing artist - so it didn't take me long to recognize who the person in the drawing was.

It was no other than Wesley's arrogant little brother, Jack.

I frowned at the paper, wondering why in the world she would draw him. Then I glanced at a small, ripped sheet of lined paper with scribbles of blue ink. I picked it up and held it closer, squinting to try and read the messy handwriting. I raised my brows.

It was a love letter. From Jack.

A voice from behind me made my blood freeze. "Kylie?" Skylar asked. "What are you doing?"

I balled my hands into fists, wrinkling the paper. "Why didn't you tell me?" I said through gritted teeth.

Skylar looked confused. "Tell you what?"

"You can't date Jack, okay?"

"What?" She looked a little angry now. "Why?"

"I know Jack, alright? He's a player. You can't trust him. I won't let you."

"I can do whatever I want!" She made her way towards me, grabbing the note out of my hand and unfolding it, making sure I hadn't ruined it. "What are you doing in my room anyway?"

"Well, I happened to walk in when you didn't answer. Why weren't you home?"

"That's none of your business!"

Suddenly it dawned on me all at once. I glared at her, anger rushing through my veins. "You were hanging out with Jack, weren't you?"

Her face reddened. "So? I'm allowed to!"

I shook my head. "No, Skylar. You don't understand. I won't let him hurt you, okay? Listen, you have to-"

"Shut up, Kylie!" she snapped, suddenly raising her voice. Tears threatened to spill over in her eyes. I felt a pang of guilt.

"Skylar..." I approached her, slowly.

She pushed me away, shaking her head and wiping her eyes with her arm.

"You can't tell me what to do," she said. "I love him, and you're not going to change that."

"You don't know what love is, Sky." I replied calmly.

"Bullshit!" she cried. "You don't know him like I do! He has a sweet side, okay? Kind of like Wesley."

"They're not the same at all. You can't even compare them."

"You don't know him."

"Skylar, believe me-"

"You don't know him!"

I stared at her for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. She sniffled, shoving the note into her pocket.

"I love him," she said. "I love him."

I rolled my eyes, pushing past her and exiting her room. I made my way to my own, collapsing onto my bed and releasing a deep breath. I closed my eyes, trying to think of something else.

I thought of Bas.

The image of him floated into my mind. I pictured his expression when I'd seen him earlier. His empty, broken expression. His eyes were dull and they weren't the bright colour they used to be. I thought of what Wesley had told me; how Bas' illness was a lot more serious than I thought it was.

Surely it wasn't, I told myself, but then Bas' words rung through my head, sending me a wave of unease. "I'm tired of living."

I didn't believe him.

Two days later, Bas tried to kill himself.