It’s been two years since the last time I saw her.

She looked so beautiful, walking out of school, with that frown and that expression that said if I got too close, she’d kick me in the balls.

I was 12 when I ran away from home. My father, a drunk idiot who used to beat my mom… my mom… well, she always turned a blind eye, even when he was abusive.

Since then, I’ve been living on the streets. At first, I slept on benches, survived by making people feel sorry for me… until I met her. She was like a saving angel in my personal hell.

She was everything I wasn’t. Smart, responsible, and so sweet. Her parents didn’t accept me, obviously. How could a girl who spends 12 hours studying date a street punk?

So she used to sneak me into her room at night, just so I’d have somewhere to sleep. One of those nights, she got pregnant… and it was a complete scandal. The good girl, the hardworking daughter with strict parents, pregnant by the guy who lived on the streets, with rumors of doing drugs.

And I… I left. I walked away when she needed me the most, when the whole world was against her. She was there for me when I needed it… and I abandoned her like an coward. It’s been two years since then. Now I know she didn’t go to college because she stayed to take care of our child… and knowing that fills me with guilt.

Today, at 18, I’m standing outside a convenience store. The rain is pouring down. My hands are shaking from withdrawal. It’s hard not to think about drugs when all I want is to live on autopilot. I stood up—I don’t even know if I’m shaking from the cold or from the lack of heroin.

I took my phone and checked my contacts… no one wanted to deal with a pathetic addict like me. My thumb stopped on her name. I bit my lip as I thought… and thought… and thought.

She doesn’t want to see me.

She probably hates me. She should hate me. Even so, my feet carried me to that building. It was old—probably cheap rent, because it wasn’t her style at all. I stood outside her door for ten minutes, doing nothing, just staring at the wood… until I raised my fist, suspended in the air.

Fuck, I’m so pathetic.

And I knocked. Two, three times. I swallowed hard as I heard footsteps approaching. I swear to God, my heart has never beaten this fast.

And then… I saw her.

She looked just as beautiful as the last time. That day, with her cheeks covered in tears, begging me not to leave.

“Hey” I said, awkwardly.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.