Misprinted Lies (Alice in Chains/Bruno Mars)

Fall to Pieces

A/N:  Really appreciate all the support guys! Feel free to share this story with others!

"Have a good day at school, Lil," Jerry said as he dropped me off. I didn't even look back. For the first month I was there, I didn't talk to anyone, not even the teachers.

The few interactions I did have with others were far worse than isolation. I skipped lunch every day. The food bothered my stomach. One day I didn't have time to eat breakfast and I was so hungry by lunch period. When I finished puking in the bathroom stalls, three taller girls were waiting for me.

"Why you throwing up? You a junkie or something?"

"No," I said weakly, grimacing at that word.

Everyone knew who I was and the people who weren't in my life anymore. More importantly, they knew why my family, my dad, wasn't in my life anymore. The biggest girl pushed me into the wall a couple of times and then punched me in the stomach, which was already sensitive. I didn't stand a chance. She had several inches on me and at least fifty pounds. This happened for an entire week during last period. I didn't know why; I just wanted to be left alone. The school called Jerry, saying that I had skipped class multiple times.

He confronted me about it but I was a brick that he would never break through. Before this point, I told him everything, just like with Dad. "Lily I know you hate going to school but you need to at least try so stop skipping class."

He sounded angry but I just couldn't tell him. I just let it continue on, for months. Every day during the last week before Christmas break, I was late coming home. I was busy cramming magazine pages into my backpack that the other kids put in my locker. I wanted to bury and burn them. I was busy washing the words they wrote on my face in the bathroom. Even when they were gone, I still saw them. They were permanent.

"Where the hell were you?" Jerry asked, with dinner on the table.

I shrugged my shoulders and went straight to my room. He stood there in the doorway with his arms folded.

"What?" I said angrily.

"You have some explaining to do."

"Nope," I said with attitude.

"Are you on something?" he asked, forcefully grabbing my backpack out of my hands.

"Yeah," I replied back, yelling.

I was on something. I was on anti-anxiety pills that made me want to die, but they were not what he was talking about. They made me feel worse than Crohn's did at times. Why was the side effect for a drug that's supposed to help me causing the exact problem I'd been trying to solve in the first place?

I was so nervous. He was finally going to find out everything, find out that it wasn't fine. I sat down on my bed. He pulled out the magazines with Dad's pictures on it that were in my backpack. That's all that was in there. I had given up on the schoolwork long before; I couldn't concentrate. Junkie and loser were written all over the pages in permanent marker, just like my face. He threw the backpack on the floor.

I could feel him staring at me. I didn't want to look. In my peripheral vision, I saw him get closer to me, feeling the mattress sink. His arm wrapped around me and pulled me in closer.

"I'm sorry, Lily. I'm so sorry."

I burst into tears. I had been hiding it way longer than I should have. Christmas time was still tough after 5 years. It brought up all the memories that I loved and cherished; those memories of course, were no more.

2008 was a very rocky start. I didn't even know what was bothering me. At night, I had horrific dreams, nightmares about Courtney and what she used to do to me. They had started to reappear because of what happened in the bathroom. During the day though, there was no reason for me to be so out of breath, and so uncomfortable.

At the hospital, the doctor handed me two pills. When I tried to down those big suckers with water, my hand started shaking so much that I spilled it all over myself and dropped the cup on the floor.

"Wh-what's wrong with me? Why do I have to take these new pills?"

"They're for anxiety," the doctor said. "They're a different kind than what you have now. They should help."

Should. Oh that's comforting.

I barricaded myself in my room for months. The anxiety pills weren't working. I spent hour after hour in bed, just trying to concentrate on a speck on the ceiling, trying to breathe normally and relax.

I didn't see anybody. Well, I mean I hallucinated about Courtney, and about Dad. Courtney kept Jerry, pissed because I got my last name to legally changed to Staley. Many, many phone calls and yet she made no attempt to take me back. When I started fighting back, she no longer wanted me. In my many hallucinations, Dad told me that it would be okay, and that he loved me. Only one of those things was true.

Every knock on my door terrified me and put me into debilitating shock. Every time my phone rang, my heart raced and my body jolted. Jerry put so much pressure on me too, just trying to get me out of the house. I didn't want to see people.

Jerry and I made a deal. I would go out and hang out with the Alice in Chains guys if he would take me to the courthouse to emancipate myself from all the custody bullshit, freeing myself from Courtney for good. Jerry agreed. The judge granted my wish pretty quickly. I was very nervous at first and thought that would hurt my chances. There was so much money in my trust fund though; I could totally live on my own, comfortably.

Alice in Chains began writing and recording their new album, their first release in over a decade. They got another singer named William Duvall to sing with Jerry and play guitar, when needed. Jerry had known him since around the time Dad died and the other Alice guys knew him almost as long. He was a really nice guy, and I didn't mind that they were recording and touring again. Dad would have wanted that.

I have to admit, I had a great time playing along and having fun again. That's all I'd ever wanted. Being in the studio with them was a helpful for the grieving process, for the most part. Sean was always cracking jokes and everyone else always added to them. Jerry was giving me tips on guitar. He even surprised me one day with a present.

I followed him into his room. Jerry opened his closet and took out a guitar case. I could feel the excitement on my face.

Jerry laughed a little and opened the case. It was a beautiful acoustic guitar. It was a little worn. The wood was stained with different shades. "Whoa," I said.

"This was your dad's, Lil."

I held back my tears, something I was getting really good at doing.

"Be careful with it. It's pretty old and beat up."

I hugged him immediately. "No...it's perfect."

I brought the guitar to the studio every day. I was being very careful with it, and refused to neglect it. It deserved to be played; playing it more made me happy, very happy. Knowing that Dad had played it helped me more than I could ever explain. Just being around music made me happy and forced me to forget all my problems. It was getting better. Maybe the days I would be okay were finally coming.