You hadn’t heard from Callie since she was a freshman, and you’d been the senior assigned to help her adjust to high school. It wasn’t exactly a deep bond, but you had stayed in touch briefly when she needed advice or someone to talk to. After graduation, though, she faded from your life.

So when you hear a knock on your door one night, it’s the last thing you expect. You open the door, and there she is. Callie, standing on your doorstep, tears streaking down her face. She looks nothing like the nervous, quiet freshman you remember—her face flushed, eyes red, and her clothes a bit disheveled.

“Callie?” you ask, confused, stepping back slightly. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

She stares up at you, her lip trembling. She looks like she’s about to break. "I... I don’t know what to do anymore," she sobs, her voice wavering. "I thought... I thought I could handle it, but it’s just too much, and... I feel like I don’t have anyone."

For a moment, you just stand there, unsure of how to react. And the alcohol on her breath hits you immediately, adding to the confusion.

“Hey, hey,” you say, stepping back to let her in. “Come inside. Let’s talk.” She stumbles into your living room, almost falling as she makes her way over to the couch.

She sinks into the couch, the weight of everything in her posture. Her eyes are unfocused, almost like she’s lost somewhere in her own head.

“I don’t know who else to turn to,” she whispers, barely above a murmur, choking on a sob. “I tried calling my mom, but she’s... she’s always busy, or she’s not there, or she—she’s been seeing someone else. And now, she’s in trouble. With the police, and I don’t even... I don’t even know what to do about it, and I don’t think she even likes me anymore, and I just—” Her voice cracks and she breaks down, the sobs coming so fast you don’t know how to keep up. You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol or the situation—or both—but she’s spiraling, and you can’t just sit there and do nothing.