Campbell took a deep breath and, before he had a chance to second guess himself, he flipped the sheet of paper right-side up.
And froze in surprise.
It was him, clearly and distinctively him. Despite the fact that it was all drawn in a monochromatic blue, he easily recognized his floppy brown hair and striped t-shirt; she had even drawn in a pair of headphones, a curly wire coming off of them and then disappearing into blank space. It wasn't a fantastic piece of artwork- far from being a masterpiece- but it was one of the most beautiful things Campbell had ever seen. It gave him hope.
Francine took the picture from his hands and smiled upon noticing the resemblance.
"Is this Campbell, then?" she asked, and Bethy nodded shyly.
"Why did ya do that?" the picture's model asked impulsively, earning him a light whack on the arm from Francine.
But perhaps Bethy wasn't as broken as they thought, because it was then, for the first time, that Campbell saw her really and truly smile.
And before anyone could stop him, blurted out "Do ya wanna' be on my radio show?"
He thought her face was going to crack in two.
The next morning dawned bright and cheerful. It was still cold outside- autumn was fast approaching- but even the drab brown leaves rattled with a cheerful crispness in the strong sunshine.
But this was not how the day arrived for Campbell.
It was even before he opened his deep brown eyes that it felt It: the Emptiness. The suffocating Nothingness was biting at the edges of his mind, threatening to become overwhelming by the end of the day. He pushed It away, trying to shake It off while feeling the tickle of the hair brushing his ears.
This couldn't be happening now! It wasn't fair! He'd been stable for weeks; why did It choose today of all days- the day he was going to start teaching Bethy about the radio station- to come back?
Campbell forced himself out of bed, determined to act as normal as possible. If the staff of St. Jude's got the slightest hint that his depression was creeping in again he would be out of commission for the rest of the day, at the very least, busy with counseling sessions, appointments with doctors, and probably drugs.
Bethy didn't deserve to be brought down by his Demons as well as her own.
And he was tired of being Their slave, anyway.
Ending this part here, but just because I want to get SOMETHING ANYTHING published on this story!
PLEASE DON'T HURT ME BECAUSE I AM SUCH A LAZY WRITER!
THANK YOU 999999999999999999 times to I Am Tiny for A) telling me what Bethy drew and B) offering to actually write some of this story! YOU ARE THE OFFICIAL GODMOTHER OF THIS STORY!
Alas, the school year is restarting, so expect my poor writing habits to continue.