The good deed (michael clifford)

5sos, Michael Clifford,
It's not the best feeling in the world. Realising your life is so worthless that you find yourself on top of a bridge, waiting for that moment when your feet lift from the ground and you find yourself falling.
I wouldn't know, he saved me before I could have a chance to feel my body hit the waters face. Before I could fall.
But why did he save me? Why is he helping a broken person like me?
Especially when he's famous?
It doesn't make sense. Until you read.


8. Chap 8

Remember when I said I don't like being alone?

Maybe I should of let Michael know that. He has been gone for a while now. Leaving me to keep my mind occupied.

And for those of you who want to know how that is going, I have counted every object in the living room at least twice.

When I was with my 'farther' and was left alone, and wasn't trying to brake out, I would find all the wool or cotton I could find and squeeze it. It was kind of like a sad teddy bear, but it

gave me comfort.

I would also pray, pray that he would either stop the abuse or just kill me. It wasn't a sad thought at the time, proberly my only thought of escape.

When your 13 everything sucks. Life sucks. But when your only friend is a sad price of cotton/wool you never think you'd have more in life. Not even a chance.

It was sad but that was my life, I just had to accept it, until I ran away.

Eventually I gave up on god, after years of pain and nothing. Years of preying for hope or a friend, and he dose nothing. If he was really there he would of helped, or at least that's how I see it.

I don't think much of it now, I mean my theory on god. I m still unsure if I should believe. I mean I guess that abuse has stopped, and I have a friend.

Have my prayers been answered?

I grab a pillow of the couch and place it under my head. I lay in the floor, looking towards the ceiling.

I have always found the floor more comfortable then anything else. Then again I haven't been on a bed up until a few days ago.


ᕼEY GᑌYᔕ ᔕO ᑌᗰ, ᗰY ᒍᗩYᗷIᖇᗪ Iᔕ ᗩᑕTIᑎG ᑌᑭ ᗩᑎᗪ ᗯOᑎ'T ᒪET ᗰE ᗪO ᗷOᒪᗪ ᒪETTEᖇᔕ ᖴOᖇ ᗩ ᗩ/ᑎ ςσ ίʍʍα δσ ίϯ ίη ςσʍε ϖείɾδ ƒσηϯ. αηψ ϖհσ ϯհίς ɕհαԹϯεɾ ϖας α ςԹαɕε ƒίʆʆεɾ. ςσ ί Թɾσʍίςε ψσմ ί ϖίʆʆ մԹδαϯε αɡαίη ςσση. ίʍʍα ɓε ςԹεηδίηɡ ʍσɾε ϯίʍε ση ϯհίς ɓσσƘ αηδ ʍψ σϯհεɾ σηε ɓմϯ ʍσςϯʆψ ϯհίς σηε, ας ί ƒεεʆίηɡ հαѵεη'ϯ ɓεεη ϖσɾƘίηɡ ση ίϯ εησմɡհ. ƘεεԹ ʍε մԹδαϯεδ ση ψσմɾ ϯհσմɡհϯς.

մʍ, ί ϯհσմɡհϯ ί ʍίɡհϯ δσ ςσʍεϯհίηɡ δίƒƒεɾεηϯ, 5 ʆίƘες ƒσɾ ηεXϯ մԹδαϯε? (ψσմ ƒίηδ σմϯ ϖհαϯ ʍίɕհαεʆ ϖεηϯ ϯσ ɡεϯ)



mᎬ ᏟᎪusᎬ ᎽᎾu ᎪᎥᏁ'Ꮖ mᎬ.

xx ᏦᎥssᎬs xx

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