How to save a life

Ava and Luke have been best friends for 11 years, but Luke is drifting away. Depression has taken over him and his multiple suicide attempts have left Ava with only one option; to show her friend that life is worth living before she loses him completely.
Follow them on their journey through Lukes bucket list.

Based off the song by The Fray.


3. Step 3 : Lay down a list of what is wrong

"Are you kidding?" Logan scoffed. He grinned and pulled on a tuft of my brown hair to draw me closer. "Your boyfriends list of issues?" He breathed mockingly.

"He is NOT my boyfriend, and you shouldn't have that." I yanked the paper from his hand irritably. Logan had a bad habit of taking my stuff and claiming it.

He sighed deeply, theatrically. "Then you shouldn't leave it out on the table, little sis. You know the kitchen is my territory."

"He's right." Sophie mumbled through a mouthful of cereal.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Dad said half heartedly, hidden in the arm chair turned away from us.

I grumbled something unspeakable in his direction.

"What's it for anyway?" Logan asked, despite clearly not caring.

I sighed, contemplating whether or not his small brain could handle psychology. "I figured if we find out what's causing Lukes problem we could tackle it easier..." I said quietly. A faint blush started at the tips of my ears at the sheer cheesiness of my plan, now someone else was hearing it. But I was sure I'd seen it done hundreds of times on TV and in books.

He laughed out loud. "Yeah, have fun helping Luke. The kids suicidal, just face it!"

"You expect me to give up? Let him kill himself?" I shrieked. A silence fell, and I tried not to hunch my shoulders as they both stared at me, occasionally exchanging glances. Dad, however, didn't stir. How dare Logan think I'd just abandon my friend like that? No matter how stupid my plans got, I would never do that.

"Whatever." Logan said, but without his usual knowing smirk. He was frowning, like I'd just called him something awful.

Sophie reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it. The only noise was the ticking of the clock in the corner, and a faint hum from mums hairdryer upstairs. "You just need to be careful." She said quietly.

I pried her hand from mine. "Why?"

"I saw this thing on the internet, ; When fixing a broken person be careful not to cut yourslf on their broken pieces." She paused in thought, gazing into her cereal bowl. "Or, something..."

"Thanks?" I said doubtfully. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind."

I pushed my chair out with a creek and headed up to my bedroom, where my walls were plastered in rock band posters and the dressing table coated in jewellery. A light pink jewellery box grandma had given me for Christmas two years ago drowned in a sea of colourful wristbands, half open with more one pound necklaces pouring out. A mirror was completely hidden behind them, the frame covered with stickers from a while back. When I'd had the bright idea to cover my whole living space in sticky things that still marked half the wooden furniture.

The only thing un-marred by my personalisations was my bed. It was a single with plain dark purple covers beneath the circular window. The window curved out and was big enough to sit in, which was exactly what I did. The bedframe creaked as I clambered up into the sphere, sitting there on my hoodie and looking down at the street. We lived in quite a small town near Nottinghamshire, surrounded by enough trees and fields for a decent picnic every weekend. However there were plenty of shops, with a Mcdonalds and a Primark. With centre parks not too far away, too. Like we could afford it. It was quite an old town, there were two metaphorical parts to it. The first I called the chav side, the side filled with grotty fish and chip shops that reeked of grease, and dodgy graffiti mauled back-street alleys. The second I called the fifties side. There was an old fashioned market where they blared countries and oldies music, selling clothing to the elderly people who hung around there.

I pulled out the list again I'd stashed in my jeans pocket. The paper was slightly crumpled but the content was still readable. The first thing Luke had written in his messy scrawl was ;

- I'm not good enough for anyone

I looked hard at it, re-reading the sentence again and again. It hurt to know he didn't understand what he meant to me. That he thought life would be all A-OK without him. It wouldn't. It wasn't that I was in love with him, it wasn't like that. It was hard to decipher my feelings. But if I lost him... It wouldn't be worth thinking about. I'd sooner leave my own dad. He didn't give a damn about me anyway.

The next note read ;

- When dad left he took everything with him.

I knew that much. For Luke the whole world had imploded the second he opened that letter... I couldn't blame him. Who wouldn't be shattered after that? It would take more than super-glue to fix him.

The next read ;

- Nobody at school likes me. I'm just goth boy for my hair and music taste.

I couldn't argue. Quite often at school mocked Luke, for his dark hair which looked dyed but wasn't. However I didn't understand the dislike for his music. We had bonded over the years over a familiar love for several bands. The genre some called punk-rock. We'd even been to a bring me the horizon concert together, much to our mothers dismay.

The fourth was hardly readable, as there was a fold straight through it. Though I could just make out the words 'girl' and 'like.'

Great. Romance. Really, that was the one thing I hadn't been prepared for ; A girl getting mixed up in this. Of course it was natural for Luke to like someone, but if anything went wrong with a relationship it would only leave him more broken than before. I bit my lip hard in frustration until I tasted blood, and sighed deeply.

Finally, there was ;

- This world is so empty and cruel. I'd rather be with god, even if he might be the one throwing all this at me in the first place.


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