Someone To Talk To | Teen Ink

Someone To Talk To

July 2, 2011
By MyConstRuctd_IdentiTy SILVER, Chardon, Ohio
More by this author
MyConstRuctd_IdentiTy SILVER, Chardon, Ohio
7 articles 56 photos 356 comments

Favorite Quote:
"One heartbeat."

"Our scars remind us of where we've been; they don't dictate where we're going."
-SSA David Rossi, Criminal Minds


Author's note: This story is for any- and every- one out there who has ever felt alone, like you couldn't/can't go on, like everyone has rejected you, like there's no one left in this world to care for you. But believe me, trust me, there is still someone out there who believes in you and still wants you around. There's always someone for you to talk to, and please, don't ever forget it. I appreciate you all, and I know, first-hand, just how hard life can be on you. But don't forget, there's always someone to talk to. You're never alone.

The author's comments:
Many thanks to Jeremy for this first part of my story/novel. Jeremy, you've helped a lot with this, and I don't think I can ever thank you enough. So, for now... thanks, man.

Taking a walk through the city every morning had become a sort of routine for Benjamin Nicholas Logan. He just woke up and did it. He never really thought about it anymore, never thought about what time he was going to get up, whether or not he was going to eat breakfast beforehand. But it helped him to clear his head and think about what he really needed and wanted to.

Ben would think about all kinds of things when he took his walks. He’d think about his job down at the gas station; he’d think about how he was planning on saving up money for a small flat-screen TV; he’d think about how he was about to pass level 56 on one of his favorite X-Box games. He’d think about whatever. But the point is, he’d think. Most people didn’t take the time to seriously think about their lives and what they were doing or going to do, or the reasons why they were going to do something. Ben did.

And so it was that he was walking down the street, thinking about the fact that he had to work eight hours today, but he might work a little overtime just because he had no other pressing matters to attend to that day, when it happened.

- - -

Ben laced his fingers together and rested his arms behind his head as he walked along the empty New York sidewalk. He sighed and leaned his head back, tilting his face toward the sky. He loved the feeling of the sun on his face. He didn’t know why, he just did. For some reason, whenever he got up to go for his walk each morning, he just got a sudden urge to just lay back and soak up the sun. And so he did.

“…ggggaaaahhhhhhh!!!!”—crash—“…stupid can…”

Ben stopped suddenly when he heard a loud noise; a sort of tinny sound, followed by a clanging. Like aluminum; a can, maybe. Slowly, he turned to look down the alley he had just been about to pass.

That’s when he saw her. Standing in the middle of the alley. Suddenly, she pulled back and kicked an empty Coke can up against the opposite wall, where it rebounded and came back to land once again at her feet. She cursed at the can, and was about to kick it again, but stopped herself. At that point, she backed up until she bumped into the red-brick building behind her. Ben watched as the girl angrily slid down the wall until she was sitting on the alley’s littered pavement. Something metallic and shiny in her hands. He frowned.

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Ben started down the alley toward the girl.

“…do it,” he heard her say, “Just pull it.”

He saw her raise the gun to her temple. It wavered there, never really staying still. Then she lowered it again. She held it in her lap, looking down at it.

“Hey.”

His voice must have startled her, because she turned quickly, her eyes wide. When she saw him, though, she relaxed and turned back around to look down at the gun in her hands.

Ben stood above her, looking down at her. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“You can ask,” she said, “but there’s no guarantee I’m going to answer you.”

“Well, then, do you mind if I sit down, too?” he asked.

She waved her hand around beside her in a sort of be-my-guest gesture.

“Thanks.” Ben sat down beside the girl and crossed his arms. He leaned back up against the building behind him and tilted his head to look sideways at her. Her hair fell just past her shoulders, and although at first glance, he thought her hair was closer to chestnut, when he looked closer, it turns out he couldn’t have been more wrong. It seemed to be made up of nearly every color imaginable; all sorts of darks and lights; tan, dark brown, maybe even a little strawberry-blonde. She had a nice, fair complexion, not too tan and not overly pale. Her eyes were a great contrast to his though. Whereas his eyes were a simple dark brown, hers were more of an emerald green. And as Ben hoped to find the girl smiling and her eyes filled with happiness, he only found frowns and desperation. There was no joy in her eyes, in her facial expression, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

Ben supposed that she probably wasn’t the type of girl you’d find walking down a cat-walk in California or the kind of girl who fashion designers would be following after to get her to wear their clothes. Most people would think of her as simply average, but the way he saw her, she was beautiful. Very. Which is why he didn’t understand why she was sitting in a dirty New York alley arguing with herself to pull the trigger on a gun already and end everything.

He was silent for a moment, but then he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Like I’m gonna tell you,” she said, a bit of an edge to her voice. She paused. “Why do you want to know, anyway?” She looked sideways at him, and he could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t exactly trust him.

He took a deep breath. “Well,” he said, “if I’m going to sit here and talk to you, I’d like to know what I can call you.”

“Who says I want you to sit here and talk to me?”

“Who says I don’t want to sit here and talk to you?”

The girl’s mouth dropped open, to once again come back with a witty response, but she couldn’t seem to find one. She angrily clamped her mouth shut, and turned away from him. Why did this guy insist on talking to her? It’s not like she asked him to. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and get back to his own, likely pathetic, life? When she turned back around, she said, “Why would you want to talk to me, anyway?”

Ben straightened up and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his crossed legs. “You look like you need someone to talk to,” he said simply.

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” the girl snapped, her voice absolutely dripping with animosity and bitterness, “so you’re just wasting your time.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“You know, I’m not going to talk to you, or anyone else for that matter, so, yes, you are wasting your time thinking that I need someone to talk to. So, you can just leave now and forget you ever saw me, or I’m going to leave and do my business somewhere else. No one asked you to wake up this morning and come talk to me, and you’re really starting to tick me off.”

“You’re the one who said I could sit down.”

“Yeah, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

Ben sighed. This girl really acted like she didn’t want him there. But he wasn’t going to leave her there on her own, knowing that moments before he got there, she had been about to blow her brains all over the pavement and building behind her. They were both quiet for a few minutes, looking at each other.

“Why did you want to kill yourself?” he asked.

“Who says I wanted to kill myself?”

“Well, just look at yourself!” he said. “Here you are, hanging around in a New York alley; not to mention with a gun in your hands! I mean, come on! The only people that ever hang around in empty alleys—in New York of all places!—either have to be crazy, homicidal, or suicidal. Psychos and killers. And you seem pretty sober to me right now, not crazy; also, the fact that you were the only one here rules out the ‘homicidal’ part. Which only leaves suicidal.” Ben nodded his head toward the gun in the girl’s lap. “And you’ve got a gun right there. One that you were, not moments ago, arguing with yourself to pull the trigger on. But… you didn’t.”

The girl’s eyes fell upon the gun in her hands and she stared fixedly at it.

“You couldn’t,” Ben said softly. “Why?”

“You know, for a guy I just met, you sure do ask a lot of questions.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I suppose I do,” he said. “But, really. What’s going on?”

The girl was silent, and that alone was enough to tell him that all in her personal life wasn’t going the way she wanted it to.

“It’s ok,” Ben said, nodding as if he understood, “if you don’t want to tell me. Sometimes people just have to think about things, about what they’re going to do or say, before they actually do or say anything at all.” With that, he pulled himself to his feet and dusted the dirt off the back of his jeans. Then he took a small slip of paper from one of his pockets and a pen and wrote a few things down. He held the slip of paper out to the girl, and she looked up at him, hesitating. After a moment, she took the paper, and without looking at it, shoved it into her own pocket. When she looked up again, he was still holding his hand out. She sat there, unmoving for a full minute, but eventually reached out tentatively; gradually taking his hand to let him help her up.

After helping the girl to her feet, Ben’s gaze lingered on her face. Then he glanced down at the gun still in her hand. Without further words, he gave her a smile and nodded his head in farewell. Ben walked away from her, back toward the street to resume his daily walk, hands in his pockets.

The girl watched him walk off. As if she hadn’t been confused enough about her life before she met him. Now this complete stranger had come into her life and made her start to think about everything. His questions had made her think about things she really didn’t want to. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about everything in her life.

There was no way she’d be able to do now what she had been about to do when he had arrived. She had way too much on her mind now.

Just as he reached the sidewalk, she called out: “Kat.”

Ben stopped, mid-stride, and paused. Then he slowly turned back around and looked at the girl. She seemed restless now, anxious, maybe. She was holding the gun in both hands, moving it around as if she weren’t sure she wanted to use it anymore. And he could tell by her voice and the expression on her face that even though she was trying to hide it, she was thinking about other things now and the idea of suicide could wait. She was biting her bottom lip and trying to look directly at him.

Smiling, he chuckled. “Kat,” he repeated. “I like it.” Then he resumed his walk down the street. But before he had gone two steps, he called back over his shoulder: “Ben,” then went on his way down the street, leaving behind the alley in which Kat still stood.

- - -

Kat stood there for another few minutes. She looked down at the gun in her hand, turning it over, feeling its cold, hard surface on her skin, feeling the weight of it in her hand. Then she opened up her jacket and slipped the gun in so that it fit comfortably against her side, yet also so that the shape of it wouldn’t be visible through the material.

Kat zipped up her jacket and went to stuff her hands in her pockets when she felt something in her palm. She pulled the slip of paper out, having already forgotten it, and looked down at it, wondering what it said.


If you ever need someone to talk to:
213-397-4213
-Ben-

The author's comments:
Sometimes I never know whether I want to give my chapters a specific title, or just call them Chapter 'insert number of chapter here'. And if I do give them specific names, it takes me a while to find one I like.

Kat pushed open the door of the Shell Gas Station, a tiny bell tinkling overhead. She looked up at the golden bell before heading into the little store. She walked along the few aisles, looking at everything on the shelves, trying to find something good. Potato chips, energy drinks, little, blue, hand-held coolers. But none of it interested her. She wasn’t in the mood for any of it.

Kat sighed and headed up to the register. She fished around in her pockets for a brief moment for the money she knew she’d need, and without looking up asked, “Could I have a pack of the original Marlboro, please?”

There was a little beeping noise, that which Kat knew to be the register, before a voice said, “That’ll be $4.26, please.”

Kat immediately froze at the familiar voice. Seconds later, her head shot up and she found herself staring straight into the face of someone she thought she’d never see again.

Ben smiled at her and nodded his greeting. “Nice to see you again,” he said.

Kat didn’t know what to say. This was so awkward for her. “You, um… y-you work here?” she asked.

Mentally, she smacked herself on the forehead for asking such a stupid question.

Of course he works here, you idiot! Why would you even ask that?

Ben chuckled a little. “Yeah,” he said. “Been working here for… what? 3? 4 years? I don’t know exactly. Something like that, anyway. First time I’ve seen you here, though.”

Kat just stared at him for a moment. This was all so weird for her. “Yeah,” she said finally. “I was in the neighborhood, and I needed a pack.”

Ben nodded as if he understood. “You know,” he said, “I hear smoking can cause cancer. Lung disease, too.”

“So, what?”

“No reason. Just thought you might want to know. You still want it?”

“Yes, I still want it,” Kat snapped back, malice dripping from her words like water from a leaking pipe. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Ben shrugged. “Well, in that case, the cost is $4.26.”

Kat sifted through her pockets again and pulled out a five. She stuck her arm out and handed the bill to Ben. He took it and placed it in the cash register. Then he counted out her change. He handed it to her along with her receipt—“There’s $.74,”—and slid the package of cigarettes across the counter towards her—“and there’s your cancer sticks.”

She was just putting the change back into her pocket when his last comment registered in her mind. “Excuse me?”

“I said here’s your change of $.74 and your cigarettes.”

Kat sent Ben a nasty look. The kind of look that would wither an entire field of wildflowers and daisies, or the kind of look that would make even the incredible Hulk tremble and shake in his torn purple shorts. “You better have,” she warned, “or I’ll be making a complaint to the management.”

Ben tried to hide his smile, but it showed at the corners of his mouth anyway. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Snatching the cigarettes up off the counter, Kat spun on her heels and marched towards the door. On her way, she pulled a pretty scratched-up, teal-colored lighter out of her jacket, along with one of the cigarettes from the box. She shoved the rest of the box into her jacket as well and flipped open her lighter; multiple times. Kat growled in frustration at her lighter that refused to work properly. Shaking it violently up and down, she tried to listen for the lighter fluid sloshing around inside before trying to light her cigarette again.

Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of her, holding a silver lighter. After her cigarette was lit, Kat turned to see who it was that had lit it for her. She was surprised to see Ben flipping the lighter closed and sliding it into his jeans.

“Why’d you do that?” she asked.

Ben glanced away and shrugged his shoulders. He avoided her gaze, looking everywhere but at her as he came dangerously close to remembering unwelcome memories.

“No, really,” she said. “Why?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders again. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Figured you needed it.”

Kat was incredulous. “After you were the one who told me that cigarettes cause cancer?”

Ben didn’t say anything. Didn’t even shrug his shoulders this time. He bet he knew what she was thinking, though. She was probably thinking how controversial he was. How he said one thing then did another.

It wouldn’t be the first time his actions and words didn’t go hand-in-hand together.

Kat wasn’t sure what to think of this guy. One minute he was questioning whether she was sure she wanted to buy the cigarettes or not. Then he told her that they caused cancer and lung disease. You’d think he was trying to steer her away from them. But then he had to go and light one for her. As far as Kat was concerned, Ben needed to make up his mind.

- - -

Kat came in again a few days later to buy another pack.

Ben smiled, Kat said: “Original Marlboro, please,” Ben checked her out, she paid, and she left.

This same routine went on for a little over a month and a half.

Then one day when Kat had come in and was checking out at the register, Ben said, “I see you’re in the neighborhood a lot. Any particular reason?”

Kat looked up at him as she passed a five across the counter. “What?”

“Well,” he said, “the first time you came in here, and I said that that was the first time I’d seen you in here, you said it was because you were in the neighborhood.”

“Oh... no.”

Nodding, Ben finished checking her out. As Kat was leaving, Ben called out to her while she was halfway out the door: “That makes four this week.”

She turned around to stare at him, eyes narrowed. What was he talking about? “Four what?” she asked slowly, questioningly.

“Packs,” Ben answered.

Oh, she thought. Now things made sense. For a while now, Ben would invariably call out a number when Kat came in. She’d let it go each time, but now it was starting to get just a little bit annoying. Kat sighed and stepped back into the store, closing the door behind her. The little golden bell tinkled overhead. “Why do you waste your time counting how many packs I buy? You’ve done that almost every week ever since I started coming in here.”

“No real reason,” Ben explained. “I’ve just noticed that every week, you seem to buy and go through more and more. That’s all.”

Kat came over to stand in front of the counter, across from Ben. “Does it matter to you how many I go though? Does it bother you?”

“Yes.”

His answer confused her. For a moment she wasn’t sure she even heard him correctly. “What?”

“Yes.” When Kat didn’t reply, Ben went on. “Yes, it matters to me, and yes, it bothers me.”

Kat couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t like it affected him or anything. He had no influence on her life, and she had no influence on his. Why in the world would it matter to him how many cigarettes she smoked? And furthermore, why would it bother him? “Why does it… bother you, then? Hm?”

“Because I used to do the same thing.”

You know, she thought, he said that as if it should explain everything in the world to me; when in reality, it explains nothing.

“So you used to smoke?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, fantastic, but that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Then, pray tell, just how does it answer my question? When I asked you why it bothered you that I smoked, you answered by telling me that you used to smoke. That’s not a very good answer.”

Ben cocked his head to the side, looking at Kat. He thought about it for a moment. How exactly did he want to phrase this? “Well…” he began slowly, still going through in his head how he was going to try and explain himself. “I’m 19, ok?” Kat gave him the kind of stare he would have expected of her. The kind of look that said she could really care less how old he was. So he continued. “When I was… about 15, I guess… I got mixed in with a lot of the wrong people. And of course, they all had their affects on me. By the time I was”—Ben paused and braced his hands on the counter. He looked down at the counter, trying to remember everything—“16, I was drinking at least three 6-packs every night with a bunch of my ‘buddies’ and smoking at least a pack a day on my own. Sometimes two. And I’ll tell you, I got in trouble with the cops more times than I can count for all kinds of things. Drunk driving, under-age drinking, vandalism, disruption of the peace. All kinds of stuff. Jeez, I mean, I even remember throwing an empty bottle at a passing car and watching the car crash in front of me while I stood there, dazed and drunk.

“It only took one year of me drinking and smoking and doing things I shouldn’t have for my life to go completely to hell right in front of me. Then it took me twice as long to get my act back together and to pick myself up and actually decide to do something about it. You wanna know why it bothers me?”

Kat kept her eyes trained carefully on Ben as he made his way around the counter. He came to stand directly in front of her, so close that she could hear him breathing. Her whole body tensed and she could feel her heartbeat speed up. “Why?” she asked, her voice no more than a whisper. She quickly cleared her throat and repeated herself, at a normal voice level. “Why?”

“Because I’d hate to see your life go to hell like mine did. Because I think it’s already hard for you to keep going. Because I hate seeing you come in here all the time with me knowing exactly what you’re going to buy, because I know that you have an addiction that’s gotten so far out of your control and that’s become such an important part of your life that you don’t even think of it as an addiction anymore, you just do it.”

“I…” How was she supposed to respond to that? Kat quickly turned her eyes away from his penetrating gaze. She didn’t even want to think about what he had just said, let alone respond to it. “I have to go.”

Stepping quickly past Ben, Kat made her way to and out the door, the tinkling bell signaling her leaving.

As he watched her go with sadness in his eyes, Ben sighed. If he could just get through to her. She was just so… strong-minded. To him, she seemed like the kind of person who could—and would—decide something, then stick by it no matter what anyone else said to try and change her mind. He was turning to head back behind the register when something caught his eye. On the counter was a small box. Ben picked it up.

One pack of the original Marlboro. The cost: $4.26

The same type and cost of the cigarettes Kat smoked.

The same box Kat had just bought.



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This book has 9 comments.


on Dec. 6 2021 at 6:44 pm
WolfGurl PLATINUM, Not A Real Place, Indiana
20 articles 5 photos 177 comments

Favorite Quote:
Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened. –Anatole France.

A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself. –Josh Billings

Men are from Earth, women are from Earth. Deal with it.- George Carlin

A nation that destroys its soils destroys itself. Forests are the lungs of our land, purifying the air and giving fresh strength to our people. —Franklin D. Roosevelt

Never lose. Either win, or learn. - Me

Is that the end

on Sep. 15 2011 at 6:34 pm
MyConstRuctd_IdentiTy SILVER, Chardon, Ohio
7 articles 56 photos 356 comments

Favorite Quote:
"One heartbeat."

"Our scars remind us of where we've been; they don't dictate where we're going."
-SSA David Rossi, Criminal Minds

Ah, thank you. I'm glad you've taken the time look at much of my work here on TI. Helps with the confidence, ya know? Well, I suppose I'm doing my job as a writer then if you have to keep on your toes and read every word carefully so you don't miss anything. :) Good, that's good, and thank you, once again.

on Sep. 14 2011 at 2:07 pm
A.PaigeTurner, San Antonio, Texas
0 articles 0 photos 125 comments

Favorite Quote:
You think that everybody hates you. You should really stop that.- A Good Friend

I usually speed read, but I can't when I read this story.  If I do, I'll miss something, and I don't want to.

on Aug. 23 2011 at 4:22 pm
MyConstRuctd_IdentiTy SILVER, Chardon, Ohio
7 articles 56 photos 356 comments

Favorite Quote:
"One heartbeat."

"Our scars remind us of where we've been; they don't dictate where we're going."
-SSA David Rossi, Criminal Minds

:) Thanks. It's not finished yet, because I'm thinking about making it into a full-blown story/noevl. However, it's going to take me a while to put the next chapter up, because the flashdrive with all my writing and drawings and stuff on it, stories and poems included, isn't working, and I think it will never work again. So I've got to figure out what to do with my stories, now.

on Aug. 23 2011 at 4:15 pm
flyingpinkgiraffes, Chardon, Ohio
0 articles 0 photos 103 comments
That was great.  I loved the ending, it really made me want to see what happened next.  Plus I'd be depressed if nothing good happened that whole chapter, it was sad.

on Jul. 22 2011 at 5:57 pm
MyConstRuctd_IdentiTy SILVER, Chardon, Ohio
7 articles 56 photos 356 comments

Favorite Quote:
"One heartbeat."

"Our scars remind us of where we've been; they don't dictate where we're going."
-SSA David Rossi, Criminal Minds

Thanks so much! Well, if it kept you in suspense, then it's doing it's job. :) Thanks again, and I'm working on Ch. 2 now. It's taking a biut longer than I expected, though, because I have had very little time to work on it lately.

on Jul. 22 2011 at 3:03 pm
-hannah- SILVER, --, Other
6 articles 1 photo 12 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The books that help you most are those which make you think that most. The hardest way of learning is that of easy reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and beauty."

your story is really good!!! It kept me in suspense and I didn't look away until I read the whole thing, you really should write more :)

on Jul. 12 2011 at 2:04 pm
MyConstRuctd_IdentiTy SILVER, Chardon, Ohio
7 articles 56 photos 356 comments

Favorite Quote:
"One heartbeat."

"Our scars remind us of where we've been; they don't dictate where we're going."
-SSA David Rossi, Criminal Minds

Brainstorming for ideas on chapter 2 right as I type. :) Thanks!

.Izzy. BRONZE said...
on Jul. 12 2011 at 2:01 pm
.Izzy. BRONZE, Broadview Heights, Ohio
1 article 0 photos 388 comments
Please...write more! :D