Behind every mean girl...there's a tragedy

Please, shut up

     On Monday morning, I knock on my dad's door to say goodbye but no one answers. I open the door slightly, although the sun has been up in the sky for hours, the room is still dark with the windows' blinds shut off completely. And there, on an unmade bed, he lies with a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hands. It's in this moment that the intensity of what I have done completely sinks on me. I had broken the only person in my life who still tries everything to protect me, the only one I can still trust enough with my life.

I close the door, not wanting to keep watching my mistake in the eyes. Two seconds later, I'm out the door with my bag and my heart in my hands. I struggle to restrain myself from crying out the pain that's eating me from inside out. How could I have done something like that? To anyone else, the guilt would have left almost instantly but to my own father – that's just unthinkable but I have done it anyway.

I climb inside the expensive Porsche my mom had bought me with Steven's money as another desperate attempt to close the drift she had put in place between us herself. Thinking about her now makes me want to blame her for what I have done. If she hadn't divorced my dad and married Steven, he wouldn't have ever needed to have a relationship with that nosy woman. No relationship means no need to break anyone up. At the end of the day, she's the one to blame.

But how can I? Especially when I know she's just blinded by Steven's "love." She's still my mom and I'm still the one who lied and caused my dad to lose one of the little piece of joy he's had ever since that argument twelve years ago. Blaming my mother would make me a coward just like her, hiding behind someone else to fight my battles for me. No, I'm the only one to blame.

How could have I done such a thing? Just how? I just broke the only person in the world willing to protect me no matter what, the only person who I can still feel his love radiating from him everytime he's around. Now, I have turned that love into a nightmare. I have destroyed my father – my only protector.

I shouldn't be driving while I'm like this – puffy lips, red shot eyes, blurred vision, and shaking limbs. I keep making turns without knowing where I'm heading until I stop the car. Right in front of me stands the little pink shop that encloses my most precious memories. Right in that shop, my father and I shared countless sugar-rocks days. This is one the few places of my childhood which still remain intact from my present days' nightmares.

With giddy steps, I walk inside the candy shop. Nostalgia hits me as soon as I breathe in the different smell of pure goodness. In front me, endless rows of candies lineup, tempting me with their rainbow colors. Kids, smiling from ear to ear, run around the shop and potentially empting their parents' pockets with their puppy dog eyes and angelic smiles.

I walk toward a young man at the register, wearing a bright orange shirt and hat with the shop's logo on them, and place my order. My eyes gleam with joy when the man hands me the cone topped with strawberry ice cream and peanuts. I find an empty little table next to the window and eat my ice cream in silent delight. How I wish my father was here, sharing this blissful moment with me like old times. But it won't, not for a while – probably never.

I should stop thinking about this. The harm has already been done. No matter how much I want it I can't go back in time to change it. Besides, knowing me I would have done the exact same thing. She brought this unto herself. She was prying into my secrets. Nobody pries in my private life and gets out intact. It was HER fault.

Thankfully, my gloomy thoughts are interrupted by the apparition of a family with five children. This is bound to get noisy and expensive.

Thirty minutes later, I head out of the door with a cup of ice cream and chocolate chips in one hand and ten bags of M&M'S and marshmallows in the other. I'm so going to have a heart attack tonight with all of this sugar.