~Kenny POV~

Guilt is the worse feeling. Ever.

My mind battled the question of "Why didn't you help him?" all the way back. Eventually, I just stopped thinking of it, as best I could. What else could one do? My wet hair stuck to the inside of Kyle's hoodie, and my bangs were starting to freeze. With my free hand, I tucked them away. My other hand still held a random bundle of papers and books from Kyle's room. The event that happened still seemed eerily unreal - like a nightmare.

Rain started trickling out from the clouds as I arrived back "home". Thankfully, my canopy haven was still intact, as if I never left. The pile of Kyle's stuff found their way underneath, where my own books typically stayed. "Fuck..." I thought, as I realized my schoolbooks were still at Kyle's. "Oh well, not like they're that important."

It was then I realized it was Friday night. The streetlights illuminated the alley a little, enough for reading light. From a distance, I heard the church clock chime for 10 PM. "Not too late...nothing better to do..."I thought as I picked up one of the notebooks from Kyle's pile. My back settled against the brick as I opened it to read.

It was a journal.

His journal.

The first of the entries started about a year and a half ago, and ended just yesterday.

Dad came home drunk. Again. What a surprise - why do I keep expecting him to come home sober? Why do I keep waiting for the man who would be home before me, and pick me up and swing me around, like an airplane? Sure, I'm 15 years old now, but hey, the whole "getting home before me" idea seems wonderful.

Dad's drunk, but not as drunk as usual. I feel like throwing a fucking party. But who would come? No one, because all my "friends" left me for the drug crowd. I couldn't get into that, after when Jora almost OD'd. I can't believe I'm still with her, after all those drugs...it's a funny thing – love. It gives you the okay to risk your life for people you've grown fond of. Sometimes, I want to leave her. But then again, maybe I can change Jora. Maybe I can change her life.

I smiled at Kyle's confidence. But who was Jora? I feel like I've heard her name in the hallways before, but I couldn't be certain. The dates shifted a little, fast forwarding about a month.

She's pregnant. Jora's fucking pregnant. I'm so scared, mainly for the kid. Well, plus, with my family. And the fact that Jora's about to turn 17. And that she's still doing meth. And that when my parents find out I'm basically gonna die. And...and dear god, what's going to happen? I...I...I...
Sorry, I ended up passing out. It's apparently 12:16 AM, 5 hours after I last remember being awake and aware. Thanks, family. But either way, what do we do? We're too young. Oh god, this was such a mistake...

I told them...I actually told them. Jora, me and them were all in the same room, and we said it simultaneously. My mother started screaming, and my dad instantly started wailing on me. I can't feel my face. Like honestly, I don't know even if my nose is still intact. It's a petrifying feeling, but not like what my parents wanted Jora to do. Yeah, they wanted her to abort our child. Jora instantly denied. I did too, but now, I dunno. Don't get me wrong, being a father is already a fuzzy feeling. But is it right to bring a child into a home like mine?

My heart stopped. I knew who she was now - she was a senior the last I heard of her. I heard of her being pregnant, but Kyle was the dad?

It's a boy! Jora found out today that she's expecting our little guy. I told my parents and both yelled at me, yet again, but neither of them hit me! I can't remember the last time I was this happy!

You know how utterly depressing someone's life is when they're a sophomore in high school, expecting a child, and having their parents yell at them, and having them call it an amazing day. My heart restarted and shattered for the millionth time in a minute.

We're naming our child Zackary. It's a Hebrew name, since we're both Jewish. Plus, it's a pretty name. With every passing day, I get more and more excited. I'm just worried about Jora. She still does the drugs sometimes. I'm so worried for our child. I can't even begin to tap into that kind of mentality if I lost the baby because of them...

Jora and I fought today. Her hormones are fucked due to Zackary, and she lost it over a jar of Nutella. I apparently got it to her a second too late because once I arrived with the spread, she flipped, saying how the stuff would make her nauseous. I had to sneak out and pretty much risk my life for the stuff, and you're the one saying it's gonna make you sick? Whatever. I left her with the food and came back home, before the parents found me missing. It worked, thankfully, and now I get to sit back and chill before she calls, bitching for something else. I also caught her doing more meth, which made my insides boil over. We fought over that too. She threatened to kill herself, which made me the apologizer, taking in all the blame. She's fine now, and I took away all the drugs.
I...I miss my old life...before I met her...

How could someone like Kyle have to be stuck in such a situation? The dates skipped again, to about a month before a potential due date. The paper felt thin and fragile, as if it had been wet.

My 11:11 wish on 11/11 was that my family would live.
Jora overdosed early this morning. She got more drugs and she took so fucking many...
She's in the hospital now, on watch. They said they'll have to do an emergency C section for Zackary. He has high chances of making it. He's only a month away, after all. But still...what if the drugs affected him? Okay, we both know they did, but how bad? What if he was severely deformed? Oh god...what if he has mental difficulties? We can't afford anything like this...shit...

I found this song that I want to remember. It's called "Walking Dead".

"In the chill of the night
I can feel my heart racing
As I run towards the light
that seems so far away
Wondering forever
In the darkest of shadows
Wondering if I will ever see you again"

"Digging in the dirt
I can feel you getting closer
Steadying my hands through the blistering pain
Anxiously awaiting for the earth to reveal you
Wondering if I will ever see you again"

You know that feeling of someone understanding you? I got that for the first time with this song. I feel like my mind is running towards that light that seems so far away. And it wonders - will I see Jora again? Will I meet my son? Oh, oh please let me...please...

She died.
Jora's gone.
The drugs overtook her body and took her about an hour ago. She passed while on the operating table for Zackary. The doctors were so distracted by that they forgot about the little one. He...I can't even say it. Can you just put two and two together for me? I told the parents about them and they blamed me. Even Ike did, when he's barely been in this mess. Dad hit me again, and Mom threw stuff. I still think my leg is bleeding, but it just doesn't hurt anymore. My heart hurts worse, knowing my little family is gone...
I...I can't stop...crying...

I want to die...to be with them...

I can't stop crying either. I can't imagine if I was in Kyle's position. If I was simply 15 years old and having to deal with this shit.

For the first time ever, I loved my living conditions.

There was a memorial service today for the two. Did I go? Of course not. Why? My parents boarded up my window and door, to prevent me from going out. So, I'm stuck here. I can't say I hate them - I don't know if I would want to go. In a way, my wishes were granted. Jora is finally at peace, as is little Zackary. They're in a pain free place,
one I sometimes wish I was at. But I still want them home, safe, in my arms. I want to see what my son looked like. I bet he had my red hair, and her deep blue eyes. I bet he was beautiful...

The rain wasn't letting up, sending down more water with each passing minute. I stood quickly to send the pooling water off the covering above my head, so it wouldn't cave in. To have this notebook ruined wouldn't look good. As I settled back into my nest, the dates skipped again.

Zackary would be 4 months and 9 days old today. I count his age everyday, writing it on the top of my hand in memory. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that I lost a child, when I'm only 16 years old...

Mom asked me today why I had "4mo 11days" written on my hand. I told her it was for Zackary, and that's how old he would be today. I smiled a little, like he wasn't dead - just away, and I did this anyways. She wasn't happy, but when is she? She screamed at me, and took my hand to scrub off the ink. Long story short, hot water gets pen off and leaves your hand looking like an apple. Needless to say, I'm not writing his age anymore.

I'll paint it in my mind instead.

He's only 16...this couldn't be real. No, no this was just a story. People write stories like this. With journal entries and everything. I told myself to congratulate him on his writing ability the next time I saw him. It's just a story. Just a story...

The dates skipped to about two days ago - October 11, 2011.

It's Zackary's 11 month birthday today. In a month, he'd be a year. I wonder what he'd be like. I bet he'd like playing with little action figures. Or maybe painting. Maybe he'd be unpredictable - and he'd like something new everyday. I'd give anything to simply see him. To see of he did in fact have my hair or her eyes. The combination would've been so, so gorgeous...

I brought home a math test today. I got a 99 on it. I gave it to Mom when she asked, like I do with every other test. She took one look and flipped. "

How dare you! We told you to get a 100 on this! This is simple shit!" she screamed, her face turning the same shade of red as her hair. She took the test and angled it against my arm, slicing the skin ever so swiftly. Blood instantly erupted out as I yelled in pain. "I'm not going to raise an idiot!"

You know, if I still had Jora and Zackary, I'd be happier. Yes, I'm just a junior, but I'd be away from this hell of a family. I'd be with people I cared about – my own flesh & blood.

Fuck this shit. Ever since I lost my son and girlfriend, I've been miserable.

I miss him too much.

Tomorrow, this ends.

Tomorrow, I die.

The last three words are nothing more than pure blur-blobs though my tear filled eyes. They were streaming down my face as fast as the rain comes out of the sky. I simply stop, and curl into myself and sob. It wasn't just a story. This was his life. Every word, every emotion was embedded in his mind; these thoughts haunted him daily. And he was gonna kill himself today. Did I stop him? Or...oh god, what if he's gone now? What if after I left he ended it? Oh god, no. No, I can't lose him. No...

After sometime had passed, I looked up and he was there. Kyle was standing in front of my sitting form. His orange and green jacket looked cold and uncomfortable on his frame. His face was bleeding and in his arms were...my schoolbooks. With ease, he placed them down next to me, wordlessly. His face held confusion, then shock when he saw I was reading his journal. His deep green eyes held fear, and shone brilliantly in the dark night. I pulled him down into a hug, and both of us exploded into tears, holding each other, being each others savior.

A/N: Hello lovely readers. I finally figured out the formatting. :D The song lyrics are from a song called "Walking Dead" (as you now know) by Z-Trip (feat. Chester Bennington) Please review, since I only have about three x) Thank you! :)