Naia's POV

I felt awful.

Awful for being so cold towards Matt and Gabby, especially after what they've done for me.

Awful that I had failed. Not only my history test but myself. Gabby. Matt.

I decided I needed to be alone while doing my homework. I didn't just want to be alone though, I wanted to be hidden. A few places crossed my mind, the bathroom, though how sanitary was that?

At last, I decided to hide out in the turnout gear closet. It was small but had enough for me to sprawl out with my homework.

As I was finishing writing my science essay, I heard footsteps approach and paused. I didn't look up though.

"Hey,"

Stella sat down next to me and I continue to finish writing.

"Hey,"

"Why are you doing homework here?" Stella asked, folding her hands and placing them in her lap. "Is everything okay?"

I shrugged, "Yeah, I guess so. Why?"

"Gabby seemed a little upset, Matt's making Truck run drills, I got a pass because I said I was going to check on you, something just seems up," Stella explained, making me stop writing mid-sentence.

I pursed my lips, debating what I should say. I trusted Stella, I did. But to be honest, I had no clue what was going on with me.

"I failed my history test," I whispered.

Stella nodded her head, "Is that what's really the problem?"

No.

It wasn't.

But maybe if I told myself it was, it would be. Maybe solving the actual problem then could be as easy as studying harder. What was I saying? There wasn't a problem.

"I don't know," I finally mumbled and returned to writing my essay. "Maybe it is, maybe I'm just too sensitive."

Stella put her hand over mine, forcing me to stop writing. "Naia, look at me."

Reluctantly, I set my pencil down and looked up at Stella's eyes. They had something to them that just made them seem light. Not in light coloured, just light.

"Naia, you didn't just see someone die. She died in your arms. It's not being sensitive that it has some sort of effect on you. It's not your fault. It's okay to need help," Stella consoled.

"That's what nobody understands," I muttered.

Stella looked at me, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Stella didn't push it, she just waited.

Ambo 61, a child in distress at 5562 Ashland Avenue

"I don't know," I mumbled and Stella nodded again. I guess she got the message that I wanted to be alone because she left without asking any more questions.

Great.

Now I felt awful for pushing Stella away. Sighing, I grabbed the pencil and tried to get back to working on my science essay but I just couldn't. Something about it just made me mad inside, furious. Before I could stop myself, I snatched the essay and crumpled it into a ball before chucking it against the wall. The way it bounced off reminded me of something.

The phone number.

A vision of when the slip of paper pinged off the window was played in my head and something inside me just broke.

Leaning against the wall, I looked up and shook my head, willing the tears to stay put but they didn't listen.

I didn't listen.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, barely audible to myself.

I did end up going and picking up the crumpled piece of paper and finishing my essay with a lousy conclusion. Somehow, I also managed to finish the rest of my homework. It did take a lot longer than usual though. Not that I minded. It gave me an excuse to be alone.

I truly didn't want to go outside of this closet, but I knew I couldn't stay in there forever. Forcing myself to get up, I carefully put all of my homework in my backpack and opened the door of the closet.

Keeping my head down, I made my way to the common room where most of the members of 51 were gathered. I stood there for a moment, debating whether I should go in or not.

"There she is!" Herrmann's voice called.

Well, there goes that.

I smiled weakly before walking into the room and taking a seat at the table.

"Hey..." I replied awkwardly.

"Where have you been? I feel like I haven't really seen you today," Herrmann commented.

I gave a nervous chuckle, "Yeah, um, I don't know, just around."

I regretted leaving the closet at this moment. It was easier to be alone than try to put up a front. As I racked my brain for an excuse to leave, I accidentally made eye contact with Gabby. It didn't even last a second before I quickly looked away.

I mumbled something about the bathroom before hurrying off. I didn't have to look back to know that Gabby had gotten up to follow me. I wasn't going to the bathroom though, I headed towards the bunk room where I found an empty corner and slouched into it. Before my body even hit the ground, the replay of the bullet hitting Jane was already playing in my head, making me bury my face into my hands.

I heard footsteps approach but didn't lookup. I knew it was Gabby. She took a seat next to me on the floor and wrapped a comforting arm around me.

Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambo 23, car crash on Mary Street

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as a round of tears started streaming down my cheeks. I wiped them away instantly, unsure how I felt about crying right now.

Gabby shook her head and used the pad of her thumb to wipe a tear from underneath my eye, "No, it's okay. Don't be sorry."

I was grateful that Gabby understood that I didn't want to talk right now. Not about my failed test. Not about Jane. Nothing. All I wanted was to stay like this. Slowly, I allowed myself to lean against Gabby and she rubbed my shoulder while I cried.

I'm sorry.