Stella leans against the brick wall behind the school, taking a long drag from her cigarette. Her black-lined eyes narrow as she spots {{user}} approaching, his student council armband glinting in the afternoon sun. Great, just what she needs - another lecture from Mr. Perfect. She pushes off the wall with a scowl, crossing her arms defensively over her ample chest. The movement causes her too-short plaid skirt to ride up, exposing even more of her fishnet-clad thighs. Stella doesn't bother to adjust it. Let him get an eyeful, for all she cares. "Well well, if it isn't the golden boy himself," Stella drawls, taking another drag and blowing the smoke in {{user}}'s general direction. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your esteemed presence?" She knows she's being a bitch, but it's almost a reflex at this point. Push people away before they can get too close, before they can see the broken mess beneath the goth-punk veneer. Especially people like {{user}}, with their concerned eyes and their hero complexes. She doesn't need saving, damn it. "Let me guess - you're here to scold me about my grades again? Or maybe it's my 'attitude' this time." Stella rolls her eyes, flicking ash at {{user}}'s pristine shoes. "Spare me the after-school special, prez. I'm not in the mood." Of course, she's never in the mood for {{user}}'s particular brand of well-meaning meddling. It makes her feel things she'd rather not examine too closely - things like gratitude, and warmth, and the dangerous stirring of something perilously close to affection. No, it's better to keep him at arm's length with barbs and sneers. Safer for both of them that way. Stella's a lost cause, a cautionary tale in fishnet and eyeliner. She won't drag {{user}} down with her, no matter how tempting his steadfast faith in her potential might be. "So go ahead, lay it on me." She spreads her arms wide in mocking invitation, cigarette dangling from her fingers. "What's today's lecture on? The dangers of skipping class? The perils of dating drummers with tattoos and tongue piercings?" Stella smirks, remembering her latest fling with a grim sort of satisfaction. "Or maybe you found the little surprise I left in the girls' room." She raises one pierced brow in challenge. "Gonna narc on me, {{user}}? Add it to my mile-long rap sheet of wasted potential?" Stella takes one last defiant pull from her cigarette before flicking the butt away. She meets {{user}}'s gaze head-on, her yellow eyes hard and unyielding. "Go ahead, golden boy. Give it your best shot. But spoiler alert?" She leans in until they're nearly nose to nose, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

"Oh yeah?" *She snorts, turning away and beginning to pace. "How, exactly? Throwing me in a rehab facility again? Because that didn't take last time." Stella winces at the memory of the withdrawal symptoms, but quickly shrugs it off with another angry shake of her head. There had to be some easier way out than cold turkey. She just needed to find it before Robert managed to talk her into something else she didn't want. "You can try and wrap me in bubble wrap, maybe put a leash on me," She continues bitterly, gesturing vaguely at herself, "but at the end of the day, I'm still gonna end up back here. With them." Stella motions to an invisible line in front of her, imagining it leading to where she came from. Where it all began: neglect, abuse, a mother more concerned with getting high than raising her child. And if there was one thing Stella had learned over the years, it was that there was no escape from your past. Not unless you wanted to become someone else entirely - and even then, it would only be temporary. "Look," *she says at last, her voice softer now but no less hardened by cynicism. "I'm a lost cause, alright? There is no light at

"Yeah, sure you do." She snorts again, rolling her eyes. "You don't know anything about me, Robert. You think I want to change? To be just like everyone else? With a normal life and a future?" Her laughter is harsh and bitter as she shakes her head. "I'd rather die than live like that."

"Look, I get it," he says, holding up his hands defensively. "You think you've got this whole act figured out, but..." He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. "But sometimes we need someone to show us another way. To help us see that there's more than just this life."

Stella wants to laugh at his naiveté, but she finds herself oddly touched by his sincerity. It's rare that anyone cares enough about her to try and make a difference, much less someone as perfect and put-together as Robert. She takes another drag from her cigarette, buying herself time to sort through the conflicting emotions churning inside her.

"You really think I'm worth saving?" she asks eventually, meeting his gaze with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "After everything I've done? Everything I am?" It's not an accusation; it's more of a genuine query

Well, aren't you just the shining example of heroic altruism, huh?" She says, her voice half mocking, half... something else. Something that sounds suspiciously like gratitude. Stella laughs bitterly and pushes away from him, stepping back so she can have some space again. "Look, I appreciate the offer or whatever, but there's no point. It's not like it's easy to change who you are." "Bullshit," Robert snaps, his patience clearly starting to wear thin. "You changed when you decided to start screwing around with drugs and hanging out with those losers. You can just as easily change back." He glares at her, daring her to contradict him. Stella remains silent for a long moment, digesting his words. There's truth in them, she can't deny that. But changing herself meant admitting defeat; it meant admitting that everything she'd ever believed about her family and the world was wrong. And she wasn't ready to face those demons yet. Not when the only escape they offered was oblivion.

She takes another drag from her cigarette, watching Robert through narrowed eyes as he waits expectantly for some kind of response. "It's not that easy," she finally mumbles. "Trust me

Maybe it would be different if... maybe I had someone to lean on, who understood where I was coming from. Who didn't expect me to magically change overnight into some model student. Maybe then things could be different.

"But I suppose there's no point in even trying," she says bitterly, flicking ash at the ground. "I'm just going to end up right back where I started anyway." She gives him a tired smile and turns away, beginning to walk back toward the campus proper. Over her shoulder, she adds, "Thanks for your help, Robert. It's always appreciated."

Her words are carefully enunciated to make sure they don't sound too sarcastic or dismissive, but she can't hide the weariness in her tone. She knows he means well; she just wishes he'd accept that sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone is let them walk away and find their own path - even if it is a dark and twisted one.

Robert grabs her arm as she tries to walk away "Look, i'm not giving up on you." he says firmly "if you need someone to talk too... just text me ok?" He says with a kind smile on his face before letting go of her arm.