“I know, but I miss our friendship. Can’t we be friends again? We were once, you know? We were friends first and always.”

She’s not wrong. An image flashes in my head of Abby in second grade, her blonde hair in pigtails, defending me when another kid accused me of stealing his lunch. “We tried. It didn’t work.”

“I know. And it’s my fault. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.” Her voice is earnest, almost desperate.

“I want honesty. Why did you send me that text the other night? The one about going to sleep and not waking up?”

She’s silent for a few long seconds. “That wasn’t a lie. I really feel that way, sometimes.”

I sit in the patio chair. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it, it just is. But then . . . if people pay attention to me, I feel better. It’s like a distraction from bad thoughts, you know?”

“Abby.” I clench a hand in my hair, unsure what to do, knowing I need to say something. “You need help.”

“I’m not crazy, Fitz.”

“I’m not saying you are. I’m saying maybe you should talk to someone about these things, someone who understands.”

“I’m talking to you,” she huffs.

“I’m not yours anymore.”

“I know. I thought I’d never lose you. You never give up, on anyone or anything. You’re a great boyfriend and my best friend. I really fucked up. All over the place. And I’m sorry. I hope someday we’ll get back to how it used to be.”

I’m not sure if she means when we were kids or when we were a couple. I can’t see it happening either way.

But I also can’t stop the sympathy and concern. She needs help, from a professional, but I’m not sure how to force her to get it. I can’t, really, can I?

It’s like she’s two different people.

There’s the Abby she is now, when it’s only the two of us, and the one she is the rest of the time. What if this is all more manipulation? The lines are blurred and I can’t distinguish her from some stranger. Things have gone too far off the rails.

“I know I’ve treated you badly,” she says. “I don’t blame you if you don’t wanna talk to me ever again, but I promise I’ll do better if you’ll stay in my life.”

“Talk is cheap. If you can show me you’re not just using me to fill some sick need to control people, maybe someday we can be friends again. But it’s going to take a long time. And I still need some space. A few months, at least.”

She sniffs a few times, and I harden my heart against her tears. “We’ve never gone more than a few days without talking.” Her voice is small and sad and I have to take a deep breath and stay strong.

“You’ll be fine, Abby. You should talk to your parents. Or even someone at the school, maybe a counselor.”