MELODY'S POV

Jack had been not talking to me for a week. Yeah, I know he couldn't talk, but it was really annoying how he wouldn't wave or even acknowledge my existence. He hadn't even met my eyes. He was always looking around with wide eyes, and staring at nothingness.

Right now, he's probably in his room, so I decide to go upstairs to go find him. When I walk inside, I see him rocking back and forth on his bed, his face in his hands.

"Hey." I say, sitting down next to him. 

He doesn't do anything, but continue moving back and forth, back and forth.

"Are you okay?"

For the first time in a week, he seems to hear what I'm saying. He nods, but he is clearly not okay. He's probably seeing something traumatizing, or maybe he had a bad dream.

"You're not okay." I tell him, and he shakes his head saying that he's okay, but he's not.

"Jack..." I put my hand on his back, and pull him close so that his face is in my lap.

I realize that he's crying, when I feel the wetness of his tears on my legs.

"Why are you crying?" I run my hands through his messy hair, but it's really REALLY soft, like touching a dog's hair, kind of.

He shakes his head, as if saying he's not crying. I frown. He's crying, I know it. Even though I haven't seen his face.

I hold his shoulders forward, so that I could see his face. Instead, he's covering it with his hands. He shakes his head when I try to remove his hands. When I finally manage to move one of his hands, he moves away from me so that I can't see. He walks away, and sits on the floor, with his head where the walls intercept, in the corner.

"Jack, let me see!"

He shakes his head.

"Please. I'm your cousin."

He shakes his head.

"You can tell me anything..."

He shakes his head.

"Fine. Don't tell me." I say, and storm out of the room.

Jack's POV

Tears fall from my cheeks. My heart stops as I hear the door open. It's Melody, and I know it.

I hear her light footsteps grow closer. I continue to rock back and forth, thinking that if I act like I can't see her, then she'll go away. I don't want her to see me crying.

"Hey." She says, and I feel her sitting next to me, so that her shoulders brush against mine. I keep rocking back and forth on the bed (I didn't mean it like that). I just want to be alone. I don't want her to try to comfort me. I want to escape reality. 

"Are you okay?" She asks, concerned. I nod, but I'm not okay. Soon after I got diagnosed, like three days, I started hearing voices and seeing ghosts. Dead people. They were screaming. They were telling me that I was worthless and that I should kill myself, adn I've beetn trying to shut them down because I know that it's just my brain... but what they're saying is true. I deserve to die.

"You're not okay." She says quietly. I shake my head. I'm just... I'm fine.

"Jack..." She starts to say. I don't want to talk to her. Or anyone else.

She puts my head in her lap, and I try to stop crying. I try so hard.

"Why are you crying?" She asks, running her hands through my hair. She knows that I can't answer, but maybe she wants me to write it down or something.

She pulls me up, so that she could see my face, but I'm covering it with my hands. I can't show her. I can't tell her why I was sad. I was sad because of the ghosts and because of my stupid disease, and I had already been hurt because of it. I had a big scratch on my left cheek from it, and I didn't want her to see it. She'd ask why. She'd get mad at me for not telling her.

She tries to move my hands, against my own will, but gently. She manages to move my left hand, and I move away. I don't want to explain it, or tell her why...  

I run toward the corner, and press my face into it, my hands helping to cover it.

"Jack! Let me see!" She seems somewhat angry now. This is why I don't want to tell her. She gets so angry...

"Please. I'm your cousin!" She says more gently. I hate it when she uses that as an excuse. Just because I'm a part of her family and I grew up with her doesn't mean that I have to tell her everything. When she gets angry, she's awful to be around and she'll hurt me.

"You can tell me anything." She says, but I know that I can't.

"Fine. Don't tell me then." She storms out of the room, angrily.

I fall onto my side, and roll into a ball. I made her angry at me. She'll probably not talk to me for a long time, now. She'll be angry at me until I tell her. It bothers me how she'll make me tell her everything, and pressure me until my breaking limit, to where I don't want to tell her stuff. She blames everything on the fact that "we're cousins" or "we grew up together" or "Yeah, because I'm the oldest" or something stupid like that. She can't buy my trust with useless things like that. Maybe if she would stop pressuring me, I'd tell her more things.

I let myself cry for what feels like a few minutes, but it ends up being for hours.