"I was angry."
“Your father is downstairs,” she says gently.
“Tell him to go away,” I respond, turning over on my side so that I am facing the wall. I knew he was coming but it doesn’t mean I want him here. My father just causes more trouble than he can actually fix.
“You know I can’t do that. I’ll be downstairs,” Donna says before getting up and leaving.
I just lie there, facing the wall, not even turning over when I hear my father walk in. I don’t want to see him; I don’t want him to be here. I’d like nothing more for him to just get out of my life and stop pretending like he actually cared because let’s face it, we both know he doesn’t.
"Amber," he says.
"I'm awake," I answer.
"How... how are you?"
"How do you think I am?" I respond harshly, the stubborn side I inherited from him struggling to come out but I hold my tongue just like I know he’s doing. Neither of us really wants an argument.
"Sometimes I wonder if you would have been better off with me anyway."
My breathing gets heavier, anger taking over. I give him a cruel laugh, “It’s much too late for that.”
"I'm sorry, Amber. I feel like I've failed you."
"That's one way of putting it."
"I only left because I though both you and your mother would be better off without me sneaking around. I thought you’d be happier."
"I am happier."
"I've been thinking a lot... about maybe having you come live with me again, only if you want of course."
"No, I don't want to!" I snap, no longer able to keep my cool. "What good would that do now? You'd take me away from mom and Aunt Donna! My best friends! Why would you even suggest that?"
"I'm just trying to help, Amber."
"Why? Why do you want to help now? You should have helped years ago!"
My father sighs heavily, “I just…I want to help you Amber, I just don’t know how sweetie.”
"Dad... just... go, please? That's how you can help me. I'm angry and I'm hurt and I just want to be alone. Stop pretending that you care about mom and me. Stop trying to take me away from the one place I actually like being."
He sighs again, “Amber…I love you, I always have but…. I’ll leave you alone if that will make you happy.”
My dad comes, kisses me on the same cheek Frank always does then leaves the room. I sit up and watch my room door waiting for Aunt Donna to come back up. She doesn’t and I’m glad. I don’t want her to see me like this. I am angry and hurt and tired of lying about in bed moping. Without thinking I stand and lock my door.
Then I just let everything go.
I scream, throwing everything on my dresser to the floor. I rip posters off the wall completely trashing my room. I am throwing a fit like a child but it feels good…it feels real. It feels, period.
Aunt Donna bangs on the door, “Amber, honey, open the door sweat heart. C’mon.”
I just ignore her, crying and tossing things around my bedroom, smashing a bottle of perfume against a wall, dumping my CD collectiong over enjoying every minutes of it.
“Amber! Open the damn door!” Mikey shouts
Hearing his voice I step towards the door but end up stepping on something…something sharp. A pain shoots from my foot up to my ankle causing me to gasp. The screaming stops so does the crying…everything stops like the world is standing still. As everything moves in slow motion I notice the only thing I haven’t thrown…the music box Frank and Mikey bought me.
"Amber?" I hear Donna ask weakly.
I don’t answer. All I do is sit down and examine my bleeding foot. My bathroom bag was thrown from my dresser, everything flying. I’d stepped on my razor.
"Go get Frank. He's the only one that can calm her down and climb through her window," Aunt Donna says.
"I'll be right back," Mikey replies.
"Amber, honey, are you okay?"
I just continue to sit on the ground. After looking at my razor for a few seconds I toss it away and hold my foot. The pain is indeed an eye opener. It woke me up from my temporary state of insanity. I would have just kept going and going had I not gotten my foot stabbed.
My kitten, who had been hiding under my bed during my fit, cautiously walks towards me, his sand paper tongue running over my cut. It hurts a little bit but I don’t push my cat away. Instead I pet Frankie behind the ears until I hear the familiar sound of trashcans rattling. There is a knock on my window but I ignore it, knowing it’s unlocked. A few seconds later my window slides open, Frank letting himself in.
"Amber, are you okay?" Frank asks still standing behind me.
"No," I reply glaring down at my still bleeding foot.
"I stepped on my razor." I hold up my bloody hands.
"Shit." Frank comes to my side and looks over my hands and foot. "How did you step on your razor?"
"It was on the floor."
"I threw my bathroom bag."
"I was mad, because I don’t even know…for lots of reasons."
He looks around my room, eyes landing on the music box. I wonder if he’s as confused about why I didn’t throw it as I am. Probably not, anymore Frank seems to have all the answers.
"I have to let your aunt in here. You might need stitches."
"I don't think it's that bad."
He stands up anyway and unlocks my door, “She stepped on her razor.”
"Let me see it," Aunt Donna says. She kneels down in front of me, eyes looking over my foot. “Jesus.”
"Is it bad?" I ask.
"I can't tell. There's too much blood."
"Here," Mikey says handing over a towel.
Aunt Donna cleans off my cut and I wince, petting Frankie as he purrs, licking my bloody fingers. This cat is so weird. No other animal I know enjoys blood as much as this one.
"It's not too bad. I can just put a Tetra strip on it and it’ll be alright.” Donna says. “Why the hell did you do this in the first place?”
"I was angry," I retort.
"Honey, I really think you should speak to a therapist."
"I don't want to."
"Because I don't want to talk about it and besides I have Frank."
"Baby, you need to talk about it. You can't bottle everything up or you'll snap like you did today. You have to talk to someone and not just Frank though he has helped a lot."
I shake my head and she sighs, "Come here."
Aunt Donna, with the help of Mikey, gets me up off the floor, leading me towards the bathroom. I hobble on one foot. When we get there she makes me sit on the edge of the tub while she sits on the toilet lid, my foot in her lap. Once all the blood is cleaned off she glances over it again.
"It looks alright. You are lucky. Mikey hand me the first aid kit from under the sink please?”
I watch as Mikey spins around, searching under the sink eventually handing Donna the first aid kit. She butterflies it and then wraps my foot in gauze. A weird thought passes through my mind and I can’t stop it before it comes out.
“I want to take dance lessons.”
Frank and Mikey look at me oddly but Aunt Donna just sighs, “You go see a therapist and I’ll convince your mother to let you take lessons. Go clean your room now.”
I nod and hobble back towards my bedroom. Frank is already there, putting things back in drawers and hanging un-ripped posters back on the walls.
I sit down on the bed, "Why are you doing that?"
"Cleaning up my mess,” I answer
“I don't want you to hurt yourself again."
"You don't have to do that."
"Yes, I do. You can't walk so someone has to and no one knows your room better than me."
This is very true. Frank and I spent countless hours up here decorating and redecorating my room. He knows where I like things.
"I feel bad."
I watch him put my things away for a moment. As he uses the towel to try and get some of the blood out of the floor he looks at me with those caring green hazel eyes of his.
"Why'd you do it?" he asks.
"Destroy your room."
"I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time."
"Mikey said it was because your dad was here."
"It's not because of my dad…not entirely."
I sigh, “I was angry Frank.”
He just looks at me, “I understand. Hey Amber, maybe your Aunt is right, maybe you do need to talk about it.”
I huff, putting my chin in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees as I continue to sit Indian style on my bed, “It’s not that. It’s just…. I just don’t want to.”
"It'll make you feel better if you do."
"I don't want to feel better."
Frank gives me a confused look, stopping his work, “Why not?”
"Because..." I look away, “because I don’t deserve to.”
"Because you think it's your fault. You're punishing yourself."
I wipe away a stray tear.
Frank comes to the edge of my bed, standing on his knees right in front of me. I keep looking towards the window until he touches my chin.
“Look at me,” he says moving my face so my eyes are locked with his. "Don't you dare blame yourself, do you understand me? What happened to you was no one's fault but his."
"I shouldn't have been so angry at you. You tried to warn me and I didn't listen. He hit me and I hated him but I was stubborn and staid with him. I knew it made you mad. I let him lead me too far behind the ferris wheel and I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t fast enough, strong enough. I made it so easy for him. I’m so stupid,” I hide my face with my hands as Frank pulls me close to him.
"Hey, what did I just say? Don't blame yourself. You had every right to be angry at me. I shouldn't have let that happen. I should have kicked his ass when I had the chance. I shouldn't have driven you into staying with him. I should have staid with you like I wanted to so badly but I didn’t. It really is my fault. I should have gone to find you when I though I heard yelling.”
I shake my head against his shoulder. I refuse to let Frank blame this on himself, “Don’t you dare say that.”
"I'm not angry at myself, Amber. I was at first but then I realized that it wasn't my fault. I could have prevented it, you could have prevented it but neither of us could have known for sure. We both made a mistake. Unfortunately you had to suffer for it but it's not your fault. It's his fault. If he hadn't of hurt you that way then he would have found another way to do it; he would have kept beating you. Don't think for one second that this happened because of you."
I sob and he pats my back, “Frankie, I need you.”
"I need you too. Promise me we'll never have a fight like that ever again. Promise me you’ll let Aunt Donna take you to see someone."
I nod, “I promise but Frank, I won’t like a minute of therapy.”
Frank laughs a little, “Enjoying therapy wasn’t part of the deal. Now lay down, I’m going to find something to get the blood off the carpet.”
He helps me lay down and kisses my forehead. I want to tell him how I feel, how even though things are different now I still have feelings from him. I’m not going back on what I’d said that day. I am still very much in love with my best friend, maybe he just doesn’t love me in the same way.
"I'll be right back," he says as my kitten climbs up onto the bed.
I nod then watch as he goes downstairs.
Note: Guys, the last thing I want you to do it read this differently. Please continue to review as before. I enjoy the reviews, so please keep them up. Anyway, I told you there would be more drama. :)