Thirteen Days With You (Thirteen Reasons Why)

"It was as if things had lost that brightness that made the world look alive; it was as if things were turning grey by the minute, as if everything around me was dying but it wasn’t them, it was me."

She was depressed, heart broken and anxious.
Things around her were losing color, like everything was dying, but nothing was. The only dying thing was her. But one day he walked into the room and he was so bright, so alive.
She was hurt but the hopelessness of a crush, but saved by youthful love. For her heart he was what she needed to survive but it took her thirteen days and thirteen reasons why to realize it.


4. Chapter Three

Day 3, Reason 3: Kindness.



The walls. The walls were the thing inside of me that broke every time he smiled. I had built that walls to protect myself from more pain from more heartbreak, and there he was tearing them down and the only thing he had to do was say hello and smile at me, only at me .And he made me feel something in my stomach, something strange. And in my chest, something fluttered every time someone said his name or when I looked at him.

I pressed my head against the bathroom room. After washing my face I found myself staring at my reflection in the mirror and analyzing my life. And then started thinking of Josh and his smile, and his brightness, his life, and I wished that maybe one day I could be as bright as him.

Somebody banged the door.

“Samantha, get out. It’s getting late. Dad is almost ready,” my sister said through the door.

“Coming,” I replied. I sighed and looked myself in the mirror again, someone was staring at me but it was not me. The girl in the mirror was dead, with no longer shining eyes and a skin that grew paler by the day even though she lived in a very sunny and hot place. I touched the mirror. “Who are you?” Then Josh came to my mind and I could see something cross my eyes. The next question was not directed to me. “What are you doing to me?”


“Hey,” I said fixing my black cap.

He pushed the door open for me as he smiled. I entered surprised; no one had ever opened the door for me. I always stopped boys or men that tried to do ‘gentleman’ things because I could those things by myself, carrying stuff and opening doors. And there was Josh, who had jogged who knows how long just to appear out of nowhere and open the door for me. Why are you doing this? I thought.

We both had been sent before everyone else to fix everything, it was always our job, and the others were too lazy to do so. The room had only a small window near the door and crystal door by the beginning of the room but the door had some kind of greyish paint for the sun so you couldn’t see what was happening in the inside, and we were completely alone.

I was carrying some chairs to the end of the room when my right foot made some kind of weird movement and I feel on my ass with the ten small plastic chairs on top of me.

“Shit,” I exclaimed.

Josh immediately dropped the chairs he was holding and ran to me. He kneeled beside me and grabbed my hand. “Are you okay?”

I looked at our hands and to his eyes that were staring deeply into mine. “Could you get these chairs off me?” He did as I told him but never let go of my hand. He was still staring at me. “And could you help me stand up?”

He jumped up, without letting go of my hand and then pulled me up beside him. He was still holding my hand. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and the turned my head to look at my butt. “I think I broke my fucking ass. It hurts like fucking hell. Damn it.” He laughed. When he laughed he kind of close his eyes and threw his head back, it was a nice sight. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I have never heard a girl curse that much,” he said squeezing my hand. Why are you doing that? I thought. “How old are you?”

“Why?” I asked confused.

“Maybe I can make some sense out of it,” he replied finally calming his laughter.

“I just turned fifteen last June.”

“Makes sense,” he said. “I’m turning eighteen August first.”

I looked down at our hands again and stayed there for a while. We were silent. When I looked up again Josh was still staring at me. He took his other hand to my face and with his thumb caressed my cheek; he then used that same hand to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Dust,” he whispered.

“Josh,” I calmly began saying, “why are you still holding my hand?”

He looked down and blushed. He let go of hand and looked away while I took that same hand of place it the back pocket of my shorts. He started picking up the chairs that were at our feet.

“We should probably finish this,” I said bending to help him.

He slapped my hand away. “I will do it. Go sit and read and take care of your butt.” He pushed me away.

“Ass. It is a fucking ass,” I called back.


He laughed. “Sure it is.” I could hear him smiling. I smiled too.

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