Author's Note

I usually don't do shout outs because it singles only one person out and I feel guilty, but just like this story, I HAD to do.

Thank you so much CamellaBones2747 your review made my day, you understood the point of this unusual TWLOHA story, you thanked me for writing this and trying to help many. Plus, your review was so amazing I'm using some of it for this chapter. I suggest everyone read it.

This is it folks. The last chapter.

Make me a promise? Once this story is done and you go back to real life, help someone. Whether it's due to depression, or maybe someone is disabled. Help someone, anyone. It will change your life, and theirs. Give love a shot and share it, it's the only way to stop the bad in the world.

www(dot)twloha(dot)com - Go there to not only hear Renee Yohe's story, but to learn more about depression and addiction. It is what inspired this story, it is what is helping me to be a better person.

"We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home."
- Jamie Tworkowski


Seven months later.

"'re not the only one dealing with death. My sister and father died on the same night," Emmett said to the black haired boy.

"But what am I suppose to do? I can't stop thinking about them," he spoke.

"When you think about them, what do you think about?" I cut in, concentrating on Seth's words.

"Well, I usually just can't stop thinking that they're gone, that they're never coming back." His voice was strained.

"That's why you need to think about the good times you've had with them. Do you think they would want you to remember the worst time in their lives? In yours?" I said to him, he gnawed on his bottom lip.

"But when I think about the good times, I just feel sad again," he stated, Emmett sighed.

"Well Seth, that's bound to happen. But as time goes by you'll find yourself feeling not so sad and will be able to look back at the good times," Em spoke, I was quite shocked. It should have been Emmett who was receiving these words, not the other way around.

Emmett's life has been hard, but for some reason he always came to me.

"You did what I should have done; you were there for my sister when I wasn't it. Thank you Edward, so much," He would say. He had so emotion in him you'd think he would be glowing.

"I had to help Em. I couldn't just walk by with a hello. I needed to help," I said to him. He would smile.

Seth got up and grabbed his things; with a light grin he left the building. I soon began to get ready to leave for the night, but Emmett just stood around.

"What's up Em?" I asked him, he sighed and walked over to me. Before I knew it he was pulling me into an embrace, slightly weirded out I hugged him back. But that weird turned into understanding.

"People like you give people like us hope, give people like us the peace of mind, knowing that somewhere out there, there are people looking out for us, knowing that there are people who care." He said against me, I smiled and pulled away.

"Em, I told you-" He cut me off.

"I know, you have to do this. But Ed, does it ever occur to you that you don't have to do this." I stood there off guard for a moment. "You want to do this. You want to help someone, like you wanted to help with my sister."

He looked at me with his large brown eyes -much like Bella's- and put a hand on my shoulder, "Maybe if there were more kind, caring, tolerant people like you in the world there would be less jokes about "emo" kids, less callousness towards victims of cutting and addiction and depression. Maybe more people would know and maybe more people would fight for the cause."

I smiled brightly, he was right. If everyday people tried to help, to not judge to quickly, we could stop this. We had to stop this. People out there needed help and only some got it. Everyone of them deserved help.

Em and I reached for our things and left the small brown building. I took the keys and locked it before we went our separate ways to our cars. Emmett was in his jeep and driving away, where as I was taking my time.

Just as I was about to drive off, someone knocked on my window. I jumped a little.

Outside there was a boy. He had tan skin like Seth. He even had the same long black hair and dark eyes.

"I need your help," he said, though his voice was muffled by the glass. I opened my door and he backed away from it so I could get out.

"What do you need?" I asked him, shutting my door.

"So what? Just like that you're going to help me?" he asked, his voice skeptic. "You don't even know me."

"You don't know me, yet you asked for help. I will help you, what's going on?" I said to him. He sighed and brought his hands to his knees.

"What's your name," I asked, taking a seat on the parking lot ground. He sighed and did the same.

"Jacob, yours?" he asked back.

"Edward," I extended my arm out. He took it and gave it a little shake.

"Well Jacob, tell me about yourself," I said to him. He looked at me like I was crazy.

I sighed, "I'll go first."

"My name is Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. I am twenty two and I am, can or will be your best friend for as long as you need me." He smiled up at me, light touching his eyes.

"I think I'd like that. I think I need that."

"Your turn," I smiled at him.

"My name is Jacob William Black. I am sixteen and I like to work on cars?" He said it in a question, only because he wasn't sure if that's what he should have said.

"Oh really? What type of cars?"

Trust. The first mistake I made with Bella. I didn't get a chance to let her trust me. To let herself willingly open. I had to build some form of friendship with Jacob -anyone- in order to get them to trust me. I would do that, and I would keep his trust.

"Right now I am working on an old VW Rabbit," he said. His eyes were full of interest.

"Seriously? I thought those things were extinct," I joked. He chuckled.

It was quiet for a moment, he stood up and I quickly did the same. He looked at me, with more happiness this time.

"Thanks." He handed me something and walked the other way. I looked down in my hands and opened my palm.

It was a razor blade.

He was walking away from it.

I had helped.

Nothing could ever make me happier in my life.

It is estimated that 17 million Americans suffer from depression.

It affects rich and poor, young and old, black and white.

2/3 are never treated.

Untreated depression is the leading cause of suicide.

Suicide is the third leading cause of death among young people.

To Write Love On Her Arms

This is only the beginning.

Depression is treatable. Rescue is possible. We can stop the bleeding. Love is the movement.

"Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."
- Renee Yohe