Daddy, please.

Alone

Alex awoke the next morning with a killer migraine, but his memory was intact. I expected things to be awkward between us, but thankfully they weren't. I worried he'd remember how scared I'd been of him, but if he did, he didn't mention it.

Things ran smoothly for the next fives days. Alex came out of his shell, he left his room, watched movies with me. He even talked about his parents. And he didn't drink again.

On the fifth night, after his little rendezvous with the alcohol, it was October 12th, and I had a late night visitor to my bedroom.

I heard a soft knocking at my door which startled me from the book I was currently curled up with. The door opened just the littlest bit but I knew before it even opened that it was Alex. Who else would be at my door at two in the morning?

"Can I come in?" He asked in a quiet, slightly shocked voice. I don't think he'd been expecting for me to be awake at such an ungodly hour. Truthfully, I hadn't gotten a proper nights sleep since receiving that phone call from my father. It haunts my dreams. All I can think about is the fact that she didn't leave me. He sent her away.

"Sure," I said, folding the top corner of the page I was reading and setting it on my nightstand. I uncurled my body and laid flat on my side, nearest the window. Alex lazily slunk over to my bed and sat down on the edge; an awkward tension vibrated through the air.

"Why are you still awake?" He asked, slowly raising his gaze from the carpeted floor to meet my own.

"Can't sleep." I shrugged, leaving out the fact that if I let myself sleep, the nightmares would consume me.

"You look exhausted, Hal." He murmured, reaching his left hand out to brush it under my eye, where I surely have dark bags from lack of sleep.

"Kinda am." I whispered as his gentle touch calmed my raging mind as my eyelids flutter closed.

"Sleep." He whispered back, running his thumb along my cheekbone in a soothing manner.

"Can't," I told him gently as I tried my best to keep myself awake, afraid of what lurked on the other side of the darkness.

"You can." He whispered as I felt a light kiss being pressed to my forehead.

"Nightmares." Was the last thing I was able to say before my mind finally gave into what my body craved and fell into a canvas of black.

*alex's pov*

No wonder she's looked so worn down lately, she's clearly had a lot on her mind since that phone call from her dad. I just didn't realize it was troubling her so much that it gave her nightmares.

Instead of going back to my own room like I had initially intended, I slowly laid back against the pillows Hally wasn't using, and brought her body closer to mine. Her head rested on my chest and in process of moving her, she'd stirred in her sleep and moved her arm to slink over my waist. My fingers found their way to her hair, and gently tangled themselves in the silkiness, hoping to keep her as close to me as possible.

I hoped that my being there would help her get a well earned good nights sleep, but I knew that was just wishful thinking. Why would my presence change something that's been imprinted in her brain? It wouldn't. Just because I've grown to like her doesn't mean my feelings have been reciprocated, and I need to remember that. She needs a friend, not a boyfriend.

*hallys pov*

Waking up the next morning, I felt refreshed, which was surprising. I felt well rested and like for once, I was ready for whatever the day ahead held for me. I guess after everything, one night of good sleep would be enough to make me feel slightly alive again.

Alex was still in my bed. In fact, I was being held in his arms, and I liked being there. It was comforting, and I realized that this entire time, all I really needed was for someone to be there to comfort me. And I finally got it.

In a way I was relieved to know that Alex was my source of comfort. He knew my deepest secret, and I knew his. I guess in some way it was how we connected, and I was grateful it was with someone who made me feel as safe as Alex did.

Four days later, I got a call. It wasn't my father, it couldn't have been. The police were calling to notify me that my father had drowned. He was found in the bathtub of our dingy old bathroom with empty bottle after empty bottle of vodka surrounding his lifeless body. It was presumed that he died sixteen days prior; the day he called me.

I no longer had any parents. He was the last piece of me that I had left -while not a good piece, and now he was gone. What does that mean for me? I'm practically an orphan, because my mom clearly isn't stable enough to look after me. Although at the age of sixteen, legally you're allowed to move out, and I'm seventeen.

The news struck a cord inside me that I didn't know was still there. I thought I'd hated the man who'd hurt me time and time again, but in reality it was only the alcohol I hated. It changed him.

I'd dropped the phone, as sob after sob ripped through my body.

I sobbed for the lost memories I'd never get back. I cried for the life that was lost that had so much potential to live. I screamed for the man I knew my father could've been. And I pounded the floor for the fact that now, I truly was alone.

A part of me had held onto the hope that my loving, caring father would someday come back to me. But now, there was no chance. He was really gone.

I clutched at my chest at the pain that my memories brought me as they raced through my mind.

I was three again and my mom and dad took me to the park like they'd promised the night before they'd do if I behaved for the babysitter. Of course, I'd easily obliged and the night had gone perfectly. My dad was throwing me in the air and I was giggling uncontrollably. I had no fear that he'd drop me; I knew he'd always be there to catch me. His bright smile and the chorus of joyful laughter id heard from my mom were the only thing a little girl needed from her parents at such a young age.

I was five as my dad was teaching me to ride a bike without my beloved training wheels. He was running beside me, holding onto the back of my seat to keep the bike steady and I was giggling gleefully as the wind whipped my pony tail behind me. The seat hurt my bony butt slightly, but it didn't bother me much. The helmet was slightly too tight on my neck, but I didn't mind. Better safe than sorry, my dad always said. He told me he was going to let go, and true to his words, he did. At first I was terrified, what if I fell? but with one look back at my parents beaming smiles, and their cheering registered in my ears, I knew I could do it. I had to. For them. Albeit, in the midst of my dad running and me frantically trying to keep my little feet up to speed with the pedals, he'd forgotten to tell me how to stop. I ran right into the curb and nearly bonked my head on a nearby trash can. All I had was a scrape on my knee, but for a five year old, it was fairly traumatizing. I got ice cream because of it though.

I was eight and preparing for my first day of third grade. I was scared because we'd moved during the summer and I was about to start my first day at a brand new school. Standing at the door to my new classroom, my parents encouraged me to go in. They told me I'd make new friends and have a good time. Regardless, I refused to let go of my dads hand, and for the day, he went back in time to grade three. Looking back, the sight of him sitting in a tiny desk made for little kids was hilarious, and it won me over a ton of friends. My love for him skyrocketed that day.

I was ten and id come rushing home crying because someone had told my first ever crush that I had a crush on him. It probably wasn't as big of a deal as id made it out to be, but my dad assured me that crushes actually were a fairly big deal, in the grand scheme of things for a young girl my age. That night we had a movie night, just the two of us, because mom had a late night shift at the office, and I fell asleep in his arms.

That was one of the last happy memories I had of him.

Now, I'm seventeen, and the love of my father truly is gone now. Where am I supposed to go from here?