'I am going to take care of you,' he promised to me in the darkness I had surrounded myself with, and I'd turned to him with teary eyes knowing he wouldn't be able to look at it anyway.
'Take care of me?' I had laughed. 'It's rotten work.' I was far gone. For a girl growing up with tragedies, you'd think I was well worse with them, but each one seemed to hit a lot stronger than the last, and this one- the death of someone I loved so dearly- I don't think I would ever be able to rise from it completely.
'Rotten work?' He retaliated. 'Not to me. Not if it's you.'
'I'm a wilting flower, Caleb. If you really want to help me, all you can do is help me die.'
'You do know that roses grow their petals back even after they have wilted, right?' He shifts closer sitting next to me on the cold mar
