Ficly

Why

The girl glared at me, eyes of ocean frozen, “Can you leave me alone?” She asked coldly. I shrugged and casually put my hands in my jean’s pockets, “Why?” I simply questioned, and she looked at me again, “Didn’t you hear me?” She snapped, only for her eyes to soon melt from anger to confusion, “Why what?”
“Why this way?” I noticed the scars from past attempts along her thin arms. She seemed rather surprised by this question, “Well, I want to get a bit of an adrenaline rush beforehand, you know? Try and feel one last thing before it’s over.”
I nodded and leaned against my own balcony, getting a good look now at her brown curls that blew along with the breeze delicately, “You know, my mom killed herself,” The girl eyed me for a second, but I continued, “My father died in the marines and she slowly drank herself away.”
“When did this happen?”
“About six years ago?” I guessed. Her eyes seemed to have softened completly at this point.

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