ELLIOT

The next day when history class ended, I was on my way out with Skylar when Mr Louis stopped me.

"Elliot? Could I have a minute?" He asked, politely.

I turned around and met his kind dark brown eyes. When Skylar left the classroom and it was only me and him left in the room, he leaned his weight on his desk while offering me a soft smile.

He was tall and lean with coconut brown hair and a smooth jaw line. The white buttoned shirt fitted me him perfectly and is in contrast to his black jeans. He seemed to be around 30 years old, probably a day or two older than mom.

"I was just wondering how Rachel is doing?" His question didn't surprise me.

I had noticed he didn't treat Rachel the way the rest of the teachers did. Whenever she walked into the classroom, all the teachers acted as if she was invisible. However, Mr Louis offered her a big, cheerful smile every history class.

"She's doing okay I guess," I replied.

"Okay as in very okay or just okay?" He questioned, his expression slightly amused.

I shrugged. "Just okay."

His smile widened. "She's a tricky one isn't she?"

"It's not that she's tricky. She's just so...hopeless. It's so hard to lift her motivation in studies when her mind is just plain depressed and angry," I responded, sighing.

"Well, I don't know much about depression, or more specifically Rachel's depression, but I know everyone has something to live for. Maybe you just have to help Rachel find what she wants to live for," he suggested.

I knew I would never understand Rachel's depression. Only people who were or had been depressed knew and understood depression. However, I still had this hope within me to increase her motivation in studies. Just like the motivation she had when she was the brightest student in every subject with straight A's. I was sure she missed that feeling of proudness of herself and the proudness others felt for her. Somehow, I wanted to bring back that proudness.

"Yeah, I guess so. Thank you," I said, offering a smile of my own.

"So which subject is she doing good in and which one does she have zero motivation in?" He asked, the slightest of an amused smile lingering on his face.

"She's doing okay in all the subjects, but she doesn't seem to be making any progress in history," I informed.

I felt like I just disappointed Mr Louis, but he didn't react in any specific way. Instead, he simply nodded.

"Well, history is filled with both big and small, yet important events, which were somehow always connected to each other. That's why it was hard to keep track in everything along with so many dates and names of important people in the historical events," he explained.

I nodded and before I could say anything, Mr Louis grabbed a few sheets and handed them to me. Puzzled, I took them and skimmed through them all.

"This is Rachel's last history test, which was last semester," he informed.

My brows furrowed of even more confusion as I gazed at Rachel's answers to the questions. Lines. Just lines.

"I'm expecting she failed," I assumed more than I asked, raising an eyebrow at Mr Louis.

"Yes, she did. And to be honest, it hurt when I put an F on this sheet and her grade report, which only consisted of F's.

"The next history test is in two weeks. Is it possible for you to help her lift her grade? I don't expect an A. I would be happy to give her a D. I just don't want to give her another F," he said, hope glimmering in his eyes.

"I can't promise anything, but I will try my best," I assured, firmly.

~~~

"Here. This is for you."

Flustered, I stared down at the silver key in my palm given by Mrs Wilson.

"If this is a spare key to my dorm, I already have a spare one," I said, watching Mrs Wilson with a puzzled expression.

She shook her head, leaving me even more confused. "It isn't for your dorm. It's for Rachel's dorm."

"Rachel's dorm?"

"Yes. After her attempt last week..." she paused, the slightest of paleness breaking out on her face. "It was her second suicide attempt and I need you to be fully alert if something like that repeats itself."

Great. This suicide watch was just getting better and better.

"Okay, I guess you're right. Someone needs to watch her," I mumbled, shoving the key into the pocket of my blazer.

"Can I ask you something?"

Mrs Wilson smiled to me, nodding. However, it faded when the questions escape my mouth.

"Why am I on suicide watch? Why does Rachel want to die? What is the reason behind her desire of wanting death so badly?"

For a moment, Mrs Wilson froze, unable to utter a single word.

"Elliot, I can't tell," she began, but I quickly cut her off.

"Please, Mrs Wilson. You put me on suicide watch without even asking for my permission or preparing me for what kind of person I was going to spend all my evenings with. I deserve to at least know a tiny part of the story," I argued.

I know I was being disrespectful. Nevertheless, I desperately needed to know why Rachel was the way she was. What made her to who she was now?

Eventually, Mrs Wilson sighed, pulling off her glasses and wiping a tear that escaped her eye. "Rachel did something bad."

I froze. The word bad echoed loudly in my ears.

"She did something bad, but it wasn't her fault. However, she won't accept that. I wouldn't have either if I were her," she added.

"Oh," was all I was able to say in my state of confusion and shock.

"When Rachel's ready, she'll tell you. She'll share the whole story with you. Just keep her alive till then, because I'm sure that day will come soon," she informed, smiling softly.

Keep her alive till then. Could I do that?

~~~

That evening, I grabbed a tray of today's dinner and head towards the table where I found Madelaine sitting by herself.

"Hey," I said before sitting down across from her.

Madelaine lifted her chin, her hazel eyes with a touch of sadness meeting mine."Hey."

I noticed her creamy white skin was the slightest of pale while her whole expression was trying to hide the sorrow that had broken her heart. Her sunshine blonde hair rested loosely down her waist, but didn't give her facial expression any compliment.

She really was heartbroken.

"How are you? You know after yesterday?" I asked even though the answer is clear in front of me.

"I'm okay I guess. Sky's with me. I don't know what would've happened to me if she wasn't with me to go through all of this," she replied, smiling briefly.

"How's um...Rachel? You were with her yesterday when she...left?" She asked, trying to conceal the sorrow and trembling in her voice by smiling. A sad smile.

I nodded, offering a reassuring smile. "She's okay."

Madelaine raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Really?"

I leaned back in my seat before letting out a sigh. "No."

"It's not easy to fix broken people," She admitted, frowning.

"True that," I said.

But did she really need fixing? What if it was something else?

"Especially the ones who think only death can fix them," I added.

Madelaine nodded. "Yeah."

We sat in silence for a short while. Not an awkward silence, but a peaceful silence.

"What was Rachel like? You know before she was...depressed?"

Madelaine smiled. A genuine smile.

"Rachel was," she paused, not sure how to put her words together. "She was special. Very special. Queen of the special of people."

I noticed a smile breaks across my face.

"She liked everyone and saw beyond their faults and disabilities. I remember a guy once was mean to her, but she talked to him and came back to us, telling us they were friends now. Will and I still think that was some sneaky magic trick," she informed.

I gave a short laugh as Madelaine grinned.

"But do you know what really made her special? She was imperfectly special. She didn't have or desired perfection. That made her unique," she confessed, wholeheartedly.

"I'm sorry but if feels like you're talking about a completely different person. You sure that wasn't Rachel's twin from another mother?" I jokes, amused.

Madelaine grinned back. "Nope. The princess Rachel in the past and the depressed Rachel in the present is the same person."

"I wish you had the chance to meet the old Rachel. The princess Rachel," she added, softly.

"You would've loved her," she confessed.

Loved. Would I?

"Did Will mean a lot to her?" I blurted out the question without thinking twice.

Where did that come from? I wondered.

Madelaine's smile faded, her expression saddening.

"She was his princess and he was her prince. That's what Will meant to her."

Princess and Prince. Perfect match. I did nothing else than to simply nod.

"Elliot, could you do me a favor?" She asked, leading me to look at her inquiringly.

"Yeah, sure. What is it?"

She shoved her untouched tray of dinner towards me. Puzzled, I stared at her.

"Rachel has stoped eating breakfast, lunch and dinner. She never shows up to eat here. I don't understand how she's able to go a whole day without eating anything. Could you try?"

"You want to me to feed that snake!?" I exclaimed, shocked.

"She'd bite my fingers off!" I tried imagining it in my head and cringe of the imaginary pain.

Surprisingly, Madelaine burst out laughing. Eyebrows raised, I smiled slightly by the sight of her amused laugh and expression.

"Please?" She pouted after holding back her laughter.

I sighed. "Okay, I'll give it a try."

Satisfied with my answer, Madelaine nodded.

"Mads?"

"Hm?" She smiled, her sunshine blonde hair complimenting her hazel eyes.

"I'll make sure that Rachel will come back to you, begging on her knees to be friends again," I assured.

Her smile turned into a grin and hopefully that will help her get through the rest of the day.

"Thanks, Elliot. Thank you so much."

~~~

After waiting for Rachel in my dorm for a few minutes, I grabbed the tray of dinner given by Madelaine and headed to the floor where the girl dorms were located.

When I approached Rachel's dorm, I knocked several times, but nobody opened the door. Sighing, I fished out the key from my jeans and used it to unlock the door. I got a free key to her dorm. Might as well use it.

As the door got unlocked, I pushed it open and step inside, only to find Rachel lying in bed with her gaze glued on the ceiling above her.

"Dinner time!" I said a little too loudly.

Rachel, however, remained silent with her eyes still fixed in the ceiling.

"Anything interesting up there?" I questioned while placing the food tray on the night table next to her bed.

"Leave me alone, shithead," she muttered.

I sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of pink shorts, showing off her skinny legs. Her red curls were pulled into a messy bun while her sarcastic smile was hiding an unexplainable emotion.

Rachel Adams had her own times. Times when she was angry, sad or broken. Last night, she was broken and she didn't push me away when I found her sobbing in the bathroom. It was crazy how I just with one look at her state, could see that she was slowly, but painfully breaking on the inside.

Rachel wasn't glass. She was paper. She didn't break as quickly as glass did when it hit the ground. Rachel got teared up and crushed together and that was when she broke.

"Anything interesting on my face?" Sarcasm reigned in her voice and smile, but it succeeded in pulling me out of my thoughts.

When I was snapped out of my thoughts and met her gaze, I noticed she had sat up with her back leaned against the wall. I chewed my bottom lip, embarrassingly.

Was I literally staring at her?

Rachel raised her brows before sighing. "God, you're such a girl sometimes."

"Says the girl who can't go a day without using the F word," I said, grinning proudly of my comeback.

"I hate your stupid comebacks," she muttered.

"Perfect," I said, smiling.

Annoyed, Rachel huffed and looked away, leading me to chuckle lightly.

"Stop it with that annoyed expression and eat your dinner," I commanded.

"You're not my mom. Don't tell me what to do," she snapped.

"I'm not your mom. I'm your tutor," I corrected, watching her with a stern expression.

"Exactly. You help me with my studies, not with eating," she said, shooting me a grumpy look.

"Well how will you get better grades if you study with an empty stomach everyday?" I snapped.

Rachel remained silent. Eventually, she broke the silence by sighing loudly of exasperation.

"Fine, but if I eat the whole tray, you'll leave me alone the whole evening. Deal?" She looked at me as if she would slap me if I disagreed.

"The whole evening," I replied, truthfully.

"Give me that." She snatched the tray out of my hands, placed it in her lap and dug in.

Amused, I grinned.

"I really am a winner. I can make you do anything," I admitted, too proud.

"Just leave. You're giving me a headache," she murmured while shoving the fork with a bite of lasagna in her mouth.

"I know you like it when I stay," I mumbled quietly to myself as I gazed out the window by her study desk. The window we sneaked out of the night I broke the rules for a pizza. An extremely delicious pizza. Maybe Rachel was right. I did fall in love with the taste of that pizza.

Moments later when Rachel finished the dinner, and put the tray aside, I took another look at her face. It was...well, it was depressed.

"Rachel?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

"What did I tell you about not asking me that question ever again," she said, sighing.

"Sorry," I murmured, my gaze darting down to my lap.

However, it coincidentally stopped on Rachel's bandaged wrists. "help" was still written on her right wrist and "me" was still written on her left.

Without thought, I gently closed my fingers around her wrists, which have a yellowish color combined with paleness. The sight made it hurt within my chest, leaving the pain to echo through me. I swallowed hard as I was unable to peel my gaze off of her hands.

"I hate them," she muttered.

"What do you mean?" I felt my words get stuck in my throat.

"I want to cut them off. I hate these fucking hands. I hate them..." she trailed off, a tear slowly rolling down her cheek.

"What did they do?" I whispered.

"They did something very bad. Something so bad, it turned me into a very very bad person," she whispered, her jaw clenched.

"Weird. They seem very innocent," I admitted, attempting to brighten her mood, but that seems impossible.

Just like that, Rachel disagreed. "They're not."

"Everyone makes mistakes. Maybe these fragile hands of yours did as well. However, sometimes it's okay to forgive. Or you'll never be able to move on. Believe me, Rachel Adams, it's so hard to move on, but you still have to give it a shot," I advised, softly.

I had tried so hard to move on from my past. The day he broke mom once more and I couldn't do a single thing to save her. Help her. Not a single thing.

"I don't want to move on. I just want an end, Elliot," she stated , her voice clear and truthful.

I didn't say anything. Not that I wanted to, but because I knew words couldn't change Rachel's mind. I couldn't take back her death wish. I just couldn't, but I wanted her to ace that history test and I wanted her to find something to live for.

Lots of things in life required money, that's why many of my wishes in life never came true. However, I didn't need round metals and decorated paper with numbers of how much their worth to make sure Rachel aced that history test and found something to live for. All I needed was me, Rachel and the magic of life.

"Nighty night?" I let go of her wrists and stood up.

"Shut up," she murmured before lying down and covering her body with a blanket.

I grinned before turning off the lights and exiting her room. It was when I closed the door behind me and started walking towards the boy dorms, I realize she called me Elliot for the first time.

***********

Any guesses about what Rachel did on the 1st September of 2017?

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