Why did you have to be so god damn curious? I cursed myself as I ascended the steep stairs leading up to the apartment. Still, I knew that I couldn’t just leave something like this alone. So, I continued up until I reached the third floor and the residence of Mrs. Linnet, my 9th grade History teacher. God, this brought back memories…

The first week of high school: A girl is alone at a table in the library, desperately trying to conceal the fact that she is eating lunch in there. Mrs. Linnet walks up to her and asks if she would like to help her organize a project that she has planned for an upcoming class.

A couple months later: School is over for the day, but a few students are still loitering around. Mostly those with nowhere else to go, where school provides them with a security they can’t feel at home. But sooner or later, all of them must go home. It is nearing six o’clock and only a few teachers are left. Mrs. Linnet is just finishing up a grading assignment when she starts to go home, but pauses at the girls’ bathroom, noticing that the lights are still on. As she goes in to check she notices me on the floor, with my knife beside me, crying and doing my best to try and stop the blood. Immediately she drops her bag and rushes to help me. She bandages it for me and agrees not to inform the school of the incident. She invites me to chat with her any time I need to. I feel noticed and a little bit more loved than an hour ago when I felt the itching need to make those marks.

March of the following year: Mrs. Linnet is called into the school for an emergency on a Saturday; she doesn’t know what is going on. At the same time, that same girl who sat alone at lunch and marked up her skin to live was sitting in a hard chair in a small room with seven other kids who were talking about their problems. That Sunday, all of the other teenagers wait anxiously to see if they have someone who cares enough about them to help them live after stopping them from dying. She is reading and doesn’t bother looking anxious, she doesn’t have anyone. That’s why she is here in the first place. Mrs. Linnet looks around, when she spots who she is looking for she goes over to her. She was no expecting anybody, yet Mrs. Linnet came for her. They talk for a while until visiting hours are over. When her visitor leaves, she is one of the few who aren’t angry. She knew her parents wouldn’t come. But that doesn’t matter; she still has someone who cares. Someone who just told her that she has hope and a life to live, that even though she feels like everything is going down, she can make it out. She believes it too, Mrs. Linnet cares about her, and wouldn’t lie to her. For the first time in a year, she has hope.
Hope, I remember that feeling. It wasn’t something I was used to feeling; I didn’t recognize it at first. It rose up inside of myself and made me feel awake and alive. This is why I have to knock on this door. Because she did it for me, and now, I can return the favor. Because it was more than just a favor, it was a life debt. I owed my life to this lady. She saved me, and now it was my turn to save her. With that last thought in mind I knocked on the door, just as a gun went off; and everything faded from the world.