Thanks for the reviews. Tell me if you think that this should be an LG fanfic or not I'm still not sure.

Avoid

"LIZZIE," Gordo screamed.

I was falling off the bridge. I was falling and it was all because of my stupidity. But it didn't matter the only person who card was Gordo and no matter how hard Gordo tried he couldn't help me. No one could.

I fell and landed on something hard. It was a large round rock sticking out of the water. It hurt like hell but I was still alive and that was all that mattered. At least that's what I tried to convince myself.

"Lizzie," Gordo said kneeling beside me his eyes filled with fear. "Are you ok?" "Can you move?" I nodded slowly.

"I'm ok," I answered.

Gordo helped me up on my feet. He stared at me hard. He looked like he was going to faint.

"Lizzie?" He asked softly. Are you sure you're ok?

"Yeah Gordo I feel fine."

He stared at the ground looking uncomfortable.

"Lizzie," he finally spoke up after what seemed like forever. "I didn't mean it that way."

"I mean Lizzie your wrist is cut and if that isn't enough you looked like you were about to jump off the bridge before I came."

"Lizzie," he said. "I want to know what's wrong."

He started to cry a little something I had never seen him do before.

"I care about you and I want to help you Lizzie speak to me tell me what's wrong."

I stared at him for a moment. Part of me wanted to open up to him about my pain to accept his sympathy and to let him help me get better. But another part of me seriously doubted that he could do that.

"Lizzie," He started again but I ran away from him.

He wasn't ignoring me like others. He was trying to be a good friend to help to show how he cared and what did I do. I ran away from him almost scared at the thought of opening up to him and letting him help.

I got home and ran to my room. I thought I was going crazy. I didn't understand I didn't want to die but I didn't want to live. I had wanted attention but when someone tried to give me some I turned away from it. I was so scared and confused. I knew that I wasn't in control. I needed Gordo's help I couldn't deal with my pain on me own. But I s too scared to accept or ask for help from Gordo or anyone else.

I shut the phone off that night. Gordo called me thirty-seven times and rang my doorbell twelve times. I refused to talk. I was grateful that he hadn't told his parents or anyone else about my problem but still he wouldn't stop. The next day at school he stopped me in the hall towards the beginning of the day demanding we talk.

I'm fine Gordo I insisted. I'm going to be late for class.

"Who gives a shit about class," Gordo snapped at me in a tone of voice nothing like his usual voice. "YOU TRY TO FRIGGEN KILL YOURSELF AND WHEN I TRY TO HELP YOU YOU FRGGIN TAKE OFF ON ME," he said shouting.

I stared at him speechless.

He sighed. "I'm sorry about that but look I'm just upset your really scaring me Lizzie."

I didn't answerer. I just turned and walked to class.

"Lizzie," he called after me. "Lizzie please stop."

I broke into a run. I ran up the stairs to my next class. I tripped halfway up the stairs dropping my books on the steps. I picked them up and continued running until I got to class.

I didn't go to lunch that day. I had several classes with him though in which I couldn't get out of.

As soon as school was over I hurried home taking a different route than usual. I got home and ran upstairs to me bedroom. I made sure that every phone in the house was off and I turned off the computer. I wasn't in the mood to deal with him bothering me. I had decided that although I wasn't going to kill myself that I wasn't going to accept his help. I wasn't going to accept anyone's help.

I opened up my night table drawer and looked longingly at the used razor in it. I picked it up and ran my finger over the blade. I cut my finger a little but I didn't care. Without even thinking I put it toward my leg and pressed in hard. Blood once again poured from the side of my leg. I stung of course but it felt great. I knew that it wasn't really helping me it was just a horrible habit that I had long ago lost control of but at the moment I didn't care.

I cleaned up the cut and went downstairs looking for something to eat. I was boiling hotdogs on the stove when the doorbell rang. I ignored it but he was so persistent. After he rang the doorbell at least forty or fifty times I opened the door for him. He stood on my front steps looking angry.

"Lizzie we have to talk," he said still looking angry.

"No we don't," I told him. "I'm not going to kill myself," I promised him.

"Because if I was," I continued "it would have already happened instead of asking you to help me back over the bridge I would have just jumped."

"Gordo I'm fine now don't worry about it."

"Lizzie..." he started but I slammed the door in his face.

Instead of ringing the doorbell again he left. He didn't bother me again for the rest of the night.

I thought that I wanted him to leave me alone but part of me was actually a little mad that he didn't ring me doorbell or phone anymore.

I guess its true though when people avoid help is usually when the need it the most. I knew that I needed help. I knew that that all it took was one more downfall one more really bad thing to make me become suicidal again. I wanted help but I was avoiding it because I was scared I was so scared of asking for the help that I so desperately needed.