8
His gaze lingered on me for a long time.
Then he looked incredulously at Jason, who
was leaning heavily on me.
I seemed to see his tense emotions begin to
crumble.
I remembered before.
When I showed up when Heather was picking
on him, I shouted “Fire!” to alert everyone,
<
and that’s how he was saved.
And I was the one who helped him up, asked
if he was okay.
And even took him to the hospital and stayed
there with him for a day.
It wasn’t because I liked him, I was just a
good person.
Later events taught me that being good was
difficult, and good people didn’t even get a
thank you.
So now, I withdrew my kindness from him.
“Heather.”
Elijah called my name, his voice hoarse, a
barely perceptible tremor in it. “You helped
him.”
I looked at him calmly, slightly frowning.
But he took a step closer, his thin frame
trembling. To my confusion, he held out his
hand.
There lay a strawberry hair clin
<
There lay a strawberry hair clip.
The thing he’d been desperately protecting.
Mine.
As if grasping at a lifeline, he looked at me,
desperate and almost pleading, his voice
barely audible: “Why… why aren’t you helping
me this time?”
