Let me save you, again.

"Really? Are you possibly on your right mind right now?"

I didn't understand how I felt, hearing his voice again. "I thought I'd never hear from you again," I said.

"I figured," he replied.

"Then why are you here?" I asked him, the stranger I once shaped.

"To remind you what you seem to have forgotten."

"Which is?" I inquired.

"You're different. You're not like other girls, remember? You don't crumble. You don't share too much."

His dropped his last sentence like a bomb to my conscience.

"Why do you think so?"

"Why are you asking me?" He said.

"Weren't you a reflection of me? Of course you'd know the answer," I reasoned.

"Am I still? Or am I only a memory to you now?"

"A memory of what?"

"Of who you used to be. Someone you once wanted to be," he said flatly.

"I don't know what to do. I don't want this, but I can't seem to stop," I confessed.

"You don't want it. But you like it."

"I regret it."

"And that's why I'm here." He offered his hand to me, and I took it without a second thought. "Let me save you, again."