I rolled on to my side and looked at the alarm clock; 1:48 a.m. I sighed and scanned the room. Noticing a silhouette sitting on the bottom bunk of the opposite set, I sat up for a closer look.

Harley sat there, staring distantly out the window. I watched her for a bit before quietly climbing down the ladder and leaning against it casually, saying,

"You planning on sleeping sometime tonight?"

She shrugged, not sparing me the slightest of glances. I walked toward her, my socks not making a sound on the polished hardwood floors. I sat beside her, not uttering a word.

After a few minutes I decided I might as well say something, something obviously was up.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly. She sighed and said,

"Look, you barely even know me, why do you care?"

"Because no one else is going to be there for you." I said matter-of-factly.

"Whatever. I wouldn't expect you to understand. You and your perfect blonde hair. You probably don't know anything about real pain." she growled.

I paused, kind of insulted before saying,

"Actually, I believe I do. My mom got killed in a car accident two years ago. So yeah, I do know real pain."

She looked at me, her hard olive eyes softening. She looked away and said,

"My parents and younger brother died in a fire eight months ago."

My heart sank. I guess that explains why she's always in a bad mood.

"I'm so sorry." I said sympathetically. She shrugged again.

"It's not so bad. I live with my Grandparents. Don't get me wrong, they're nice and everything, but they treat me like a charity case, they act like they don't know me, like they don't care, like . . . like they're just doing what they have to."

"I know how you feel. My Dad used to act the same way, like the slightest word my set me off or something." I said sadly.

"It's like . . . like I'm just a stray they took under they're wing." she whispered, her voice barely audible by the end of the sentence.

"It'll get better, give it some time." I said quietly, my hand resting gently on her shoulder.

"And then at school, everyone keeps asking me why my grandparents keep picking me up, but I can't tell them, right?" she said, starting to get choked up."They make fun of my freckles! Like that has anything to do with my Grandparents!"

"I think you're beautiful, I've always wanted red hair." I huffed."What's that worth right? Tell me about it . . ."

She sobbed then, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. I hugged her even though she wasn't exactly facing me, and let her lean on my shoulder. I held her until her breathing slowed and returned to normal and whispered,

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."