Yours // 5sos

Chapter 28

"Samantha? Sam?"

I must look broken. Because that's how I feel. As if I've forgotten how to function.

A hand on my shoulder shocks me back into reality. Michael is next to me, a concerned look on his face. He mouths 'You okay?'

I blink and remember the voice at my ear, saying my name and 'hello' in an inconsistent order. I shake my head. "Um hey..."

"Oh Samantha it is so great to hear your voice we were so worried here-."

"Hold on, Greg. What do you mean you were worried?"

"How could I not be worried?! My oldest daughter is missing! I sober up only to find her gone-."

"Greg. Stop. You sobered...you're sober?"

A pause. "I think so."

A small part of me burns red hot rage. "You think so? Because you're usually not sober?"

"Look, Sam, can we talk about this later? Right now I need to know where-."

"Greg. Are Taylor and Olivia okay? Did you make them priorities? Liv took charge, right?" I interrupt.

Another pause. "Sam, where are you?"

"...Detroit."

"Why are you in Detroit?! You left...f-for a concert! And now you're in Detroit?" Greg yells through the phone.

I shake my head. "I-I'm on a road trip. With a few..." I glance up at Michael, who is standing next to me with his hand still on my shoulder. "Friends."

"For weeks! I've been worried sick!"

"Greg. Calm down. I'm safe. You have to worry about Tay and Liv. They need you."

Hesitation. "Don't you still need me? You're my little girl. You're not even an adult. You need adult guidance-."

"I don't need you. I need you to go pay attention to your other daughters. The ones who still think their father cares," I snap into the phone.

"Sam. Sam, I will always care."

I clench my jaw and tightly say. "Then prove it by getting a job and caring for Liv and Tay."

"Sam-."

"I'll come home when I want to. But right now, I'm happy for the first time in years. Don't ruin it. Maybe I'll come back when you get your life together," I say. "Tell Tay and Liv I love them."

"Sam, I-."

And I hang up. I just stand there for a moment, staring forward, the phone on my chest.

"Sami. What's wrong?"

Michael. He's worried. I can hear it in his tone. He probably over heard the whole conversation, trying to make sense of it.

I turn around and bury my head in his chest, clenching my hands in his shirt. I didn't realize I was close to crying until tears spilled over my cheeks and stained Michael's shirt.

"Sami. Shh. It's okay. Tell me what's wrong."

"Mikey" is all I can say before my voice cracks.

My dad.

He hasn't been fully sober for two years.

And now he expects me to still care about what he thinks.

"Mikey it's awful," I eventually get out.

"Shh Sami. It's okay. It'll be okay. Who was that?"

Tears still spill over my cheeks but I can manage a small, "My dad."