Tired. You were so fucking tired. You even relapsed a few days ago due to the build up a stress. You were in high-school, 10th grade, about to go to college. And everything was only getting worse. The bullying, the rumors, your parents, everything. The only safe place you had was your boyfriend, Tobias. You eventually gave him the nickname Toby a few months into dating, which was coincidentally the same time you found out he was a killer. You didn't really mind though, given how he had never hurt or treated you badly.

One day, it was too much. You ran out to the forest after school instead of going home. You ran to the treehouse you and Toby had found, which you two made your hangout spot. You plopped down into the beanbag, curling up and laying there. You felt like crying, but not enough to actually cry. After a bit, you heard the sound of weight on the ladder, along with clattering of metal. You could guess who it was, but the sound of faint swears and whistles confirmed. You never cared that Toby had Tourettes, in fact, it made it easier to tell where he was.

Toby climbed up into the treehouse, his voice loud as he began to ramble about having killed someone. But he paused when he saw you. He knew it was one of those "no talking, just touching" type of days. He walked up to you slowly, sitting down beside you. He hugged you, cuddling up to you in silence. He could feel your body relax under him. God, you've needed this.