"Get the hell away from her!" Caleb yells.

I expect Ryder to let go of me, but he doesn't. He just holds me tighter and pulls me closer to him.

"Ryder, let go of me," I say lowly before Caleb comes close.

"No." He growls firmly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Caleb asks him and then looks at me and asks, "Did you call him?"

"She didn't call me," Ryder answers for me.

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?" Caleb shouts; I look at his hand; they are balled tightly into a fist.

Ryder acerbically says "I came to see her,"

"She doesn't want to be around you; what are you not getting?" Caleb shouts with rage, clearly in his tone.

"Oh, and she wants to be around you. Trust me. She doesn't." Ryder snarls, speaking for me. I tug trying to get him to let me go; he doesn't.

"You don't know shit about her," Caleb spits out.

"I know more than you think... I know more than you do," Ryder snaps back. I hate to say it, but he's right; he does know more than Caleb does, not because I wanted him to, but that's just how it happened.

Caleb moves closer to us, and I feel Ryder move closer to Caleb. I push on Ryder's chest, keeping him back. This can't happen.  Especially with me in the middle. "No," I say to him and push harder. "Please just go,"

"No!"

"I don't want you here!" My voice cracks as I say the words. He stares at me with his dark eyes. They don't look green as they always do; they look black, empty. He looks past me at Caleb then back to me. The emptiness that was once in his eyes is gone; now, all I see is rage

"Fine." he snaps. "You don't want me here. I'll go. You don't want me to ever speak to you again. I won't." Somehow I doubt that. "I don't give a shit about you; I could care less about whatever the hell you do." His lips press together in a line, and then he opens his mouth and says. "You could go kill yourself for all I care." and then releases my arm.

Even with the huge lump in my throat, I open my mouth and say "I don't want to kill myself,"

"Well, if you don't know now, trust me, you soon will," he says. "I promise you I'll make your life a living hell; you'll wish you were dead." His words are like gaggers stabbing me where it hurts. He walks across the street and gets into his car—the car speeds off down the wet road. I stare at it until its bright headlights fade away.

I don't move.

I don't turn around.

He wants me to kill myself. Out of all the hurtful things he's said to me, that was the worst. I never thought he would use that against me. He knows the most vulnerable thing about me, and he used it against me. The silent tears fall down my face, my eyes string from all the crying and rain.

Arms wrap around me. My whole body goes numb; I can't feel his comforting arms because I'm paralyzed. I know it's Caleb, but his touch is numb. It doesn't feel warm as it usually does. I feel nothing at his embrace. He turns me around and pulls me into his chest. I cry harder, louder.

...

I stare up at my white ceiling; I want time to stop; I want everything to freeze. I try not to think about last night. But I can't forget it, the pains of the night flood through my head. Everything that happened just replays in my head like a skipping CD, repeatedly playing the same tune unable to move forward.

I can feel everything, ten times max, my whole body aches. My emotional pain is now physical. I couldn't even sleep last night; Caleb stayed with me until my parents got back home. Caleb called them from my phone. He didn't go into detail about what happened, but he told them I wasn't doing too well and that he was going to stay with me until they got back.

He asked me why Ryder said what he said about the whole killing myself thing. I lied to him; I couldn't tell him about my depression and self harming, I just couldn't.

I didn't want him to look at me; differently, I didn't want him to look at me like I was weak. I didn't want him to look at me and feel trapped, trapped because he now feels obligated to be with me, scared to leave because he fears I will hurt myself, so that's why I lied and let him go.

It wasn't until yesterday when I realized Caleb didn't make me happy, he just numbed the pain within me and I liked that, I liked that he was a distraction, I liked how I was able to forget everything I was going through when I was around.

I feel terrible because, in a way, I was using him, using him for my own selfish needs, and that's not right. That's why I let him go. I told him that I think it would be best if we just stayed friends. I said I needed to work on myself, by myself, and getting into a relationship right now is not what I need. He believed me. He said that he understood and that if being friends is what I needed, he will be here for me just as a friend.

If I was to stay in a relationship with him. One day he will get a call from my parents, and my parents will tell him I'm gone. He will question himself, asking. Did I miss the signs? Why would she do this? He will hate himself and wonder if he could've done more.

He will wonder why he was not enough for me to want to live.

I can't leave him knowing he will blame himself every day for the rest of his life for my death. When I'm gone, I don't want him to ever think about me again. I want him to live his best life without carrying the weight of my death on his shoulders. I've caused so many people pain, and I refuse to hurt him too.

...

"Jayda." My mother and father walk through my room door.

I hadn't even realized I fell asleep. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to get a clear view.

"It's two-thirty. You've been in bed all day." My father says as both of them sit at the end of my blue covered bed.

"How are you?" my worried mother says. She must not be going anywhere today; she has on a black t-shirt and red sweatpants.

"I'm okay; I'm just tired." I push my hair behind my ear.

"What happened yesterday?" My father asks cautiously; it's like he's scared to ask.

I say, "Nothing, I just wasn't feeling well, and Caleb brought me back home." That's nowhere near the truth, but it's what I have to tell them.

"Mentally or physically?" My father questions, raising his eyebrow.

"Both," I say honestly; I can be honest about this, so I will...They both stare at me with worry clearly on their faces; the look they are giving me is the look that I hate, they're scared.

My mother leans down and kisses me on my forehead. "Well, you continue to rest. Ill wake you when dinner is ready." she talks a deep breath; when she turns around, she is about to cry, I know it. They both get off of my bed and exit the room.

This time keeping the once closed door wide open.

"So your mother and I were thinking about taking a vacation for new years. What do you think?" my father asks cheerfully.

"Where are you two going?" I stir the chicken noodle soup in my bowl.

"Where are we going? You mean." I look up from my bowl with wide eyes. "We thought maybe you could find someplace for all of us." he smiles. "Is there a place you always wanted to go to?"

"Bora Bora," I answer. I've always wanted to go there ever since my old nanny told me she went for her honeymoon; the way she described the place it was so vivid in my head, the green trees, the blue water, the lagoons placed right in the middle of the sky blue water. She said how the water was so clear it reflected the sky. Sometimes even now, I pretend I'm there... by myself, though. "But is that a place you go for new years?" I ask, trying to change the idea of all of us going there.

"No." My father tilts his head side to side. "Not really."

"But if that's somewhere, you want to go. We'll go." My mother assures me. "Oh, and next weekend we're going out of town." She adds.

"You and dad?" my stomach drops; I knew they would leave soon—duty calls.

"No, all of us!" She squeals. "We're going to New York!" she says with excitement.

"New York?!" They hear the thrill in my voice because both of their faces light up at my excitement.

"Yes. There's this art gallery opening up, right in times square. The owner is a friend of your mother and me; he went to Yale with us." my father says.

"Are we staying for the whole weekend?"

"Yes. We will leave for the airport Friday morning, so you'll have to miss school and your appointment," he says.

"Does she?" my mother questions. "I mean from here to New York; it's only an hour, two-hour flight. We could pick her up from the clinic and just head to the airport from there."

"I guess that could work." My father agrees.

I can't believe I'm going to New york. New York! I don't think anyone knows this, but I used to want to go to NYU.

In the 9th grade, NYU came to our school for the college fair. I fell in love with their school as soon as I met one of the students representing them.

I can't remember her name, but I remember her saying she was a creative writing major. She spent about five minutes explaining what she learns there and what type of job she would get after college.

I told myself that year; I would go to NYU, that school would be my safe haven. The thought of living in New York City with all the lights and people, all the vast buildings it made me happy.

"The city that never sleeps," people always say. Being in a huge city filled with millions of people who don't know who I am, who don't know anything about me, brought me peace. Thinking about it now is bringing me peace. I could start over and be who I want to be; make my new image. I could create a new me.

Could I?

My phone rings; I grab it off my nightstand. It's Violet shes face timing me; my finger hovers over the end call button. I should hang up. I don't want to talk to her. I'm not mad at her or anything; I'm embarrassed. Is she mad at me? I hope not. I click the green button.

"Jayda, oh my god, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I don't know what came over, Liam." She says frantically.

"It's okay." I understand why he was made. I'm over it.

"No, it is not. I'm so sorry he said that to you. If it's any consolation, he feels terrible." she assures me.

"Violet, it's fine, tell him it's okay,"

"Did Caleb tell you he went off on Liam after you walked out?" she asks.

"Yeah, he did." After we came back to the house, Caleb mentioned that he didn't follow me immediately because he was telling Liam off. Then when he finished and rushed outside, I was already gone.

"He found you?"

"Yeah, he came to the house, and we talked." I don't mention how Ryder was here first; I don't want to talk about it.

"So, are you too good?" She asks.

"Yeah, we're good. But for now, we are going to remain friends." I say.

She raises her eyebrow as if she doesn't believe me. "Just friends?"

"Just friends," I repeat, making myself believe it also. "Besides that, though, guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm going to New York next weekend!"

(I really don't like Ryder. Please don't hate me for the Caleb and Jayda break up. Even though technically they weren't together lol... Ima miss them. Do you think they really over? OMG guys, someone pm' ed me and said they ship Ryder and Jayda. I don't see it, though. But anyway, don't forget to vote and leave feedback. I'm loving all the comments; it really motivates me to keep writing for you guys. Anyway WHOS READY FOR NEW YORK?!)