When I was fifteen I met a boy.

He liked to smoke.

He said it calmed his mind.

I don't tell him off.

I try to understand him.

Next week I start smoking, it's nice.

My lungs feel closed and in pain.

But it's a good pain.

I love it.

Next week we meet up

He tells me he smokes because of his father

I hug him

He tells me he feels different around me

I kiss his cheek

Next week he tells me he met new friends Friends who drive around in illegal cars.

I knew them

They were trouble

I tell him off

Next week he shows up with bruises all over him

I panic

I hug him and tell it's going to be alright

He cries in my arms and kisses me.

Next week we are holding hands It's almost his birthday He is happier then usual His eyes are bigger I can't barely see the blue form how big his pupils are.

Next week he doesn't show up

I text him

He says he can't meet

Next week he isn't here

I panic again

He gets here late in a car

I yell at him to not hang out with those people

He nods

Next week he isn’t here.

Next week I had enough I go up to his 'friends' and ask where he is They smirk and tells me to follow them We go up into the first room on the right

My beautiful boy was passed out on a dirty mattress with needles in both of his arms His eyes rolled back with no sight of blue in them

I hug him

I kiss him

I tell him.

“It’s gonna be alright I promise..please hang on.”

I call the ambulance

His body is turning cold

I wrap my jacket around him

I talk to him

He doesn't reply

His fingertips are slightly blue

His body was cold as ice.

I cry The doctors drag me away from him I tell them he is going to make it another doctor is hugging me

I look at him

His blue eyes aren't there anymore. There is nothing there. My beautiful boy isn't there.

he can’t be in a coma, I know he’s stronger than anyone I could’ve ever met..I told him not to hang out with these people.

he will wake up. I know it.