This was a therapeutic chain of events.

TEN

My crusted eyes forced their way open, quickly closing again when encountered with deathly bright white lights. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the numbness in my toes and fingers, and the foul taste of what seemed to be tar lingered in my mouth, causing my swallows to be shallow and sickly. At a second attempt to open my eyes, they adjusted easier than before, still as painful though. I thought about the last memory I had, but couldn't seem to find it. Am I in heaven? I thought to myself.

I tried to breathe in through my nose only to be faced with an eruption of ongoing gags, which seemed to last forever, when I fell back onto whatever I was lying on, I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to go through all my senses. Ok sight, I tried to open my eyes once more, but couldn't make out anything other than a blurred confusion of white. Taste, the only thing I could taste, was this foul mixture of tar and oil poisoning my taste buds. Smell, I attempted once more breathing in through my noise, this time succeeding more in not dying, the air around me smelt stale and clinical, like it had been recycled or somehow mechanically engineered. Touch, I clenched my fists down by my sides and felt the soft touch of what I could only describe as a bed sheet or some kind of blanket. Sound, once I got passed the sound of my own heart beat thundering in my eardrums, I tuned into the sound of my surroundings, I could hear some kind of machine or monitor beeping beside me, yet I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes to check and see, I could hear the sound of some kind if air vent thundering cool air into wherever I was. I heard the voices of people in the distance of wherever I was, they all muffled together at the beginning, but after a moment or two I managed to separate them apart. My ears immediately tuned into a conversation between two people. And I could just about make out what they were saying.

"She can't keep doing this to herself, she's gonna get herself killed, that is if she wasn't trying to already." I heard a man's voice speak, it was the voice of my dad, although I haven't heard it I a few weeks, he was too much of a new Yorker not to be able to distinguish his voice out of a crowd.

"What are you gonna do?" The second voice spoke, my head jolted up, but I dared not open my eyes in fear of losing my sense of sound again.

"She needs to go rehab, the doctors have found this excellent programme for her, she can take it over the summer, your mother and I have tried to help her, we really have, she doesn't want help." 'your mother and I. My father said, 'your mother and I', unless I have another sibling I knew exactly who was talking to my Dad.

It can't be, it couldn't. I ignored my thoughts and tuned back into their conversation.

"Let me help her, rehab is not going to help her at this point, she needs family. She needs people who care about her. I can take her back to LA with me, a change of scenery will be good for her. Please, let me help her." I had to hold in an uncountable amount of scoffs and snarls listening to his part of the conversation. I know my Dad hates me, but he could not do this to me.

"I don't know Brendon." That confirmed it, that name I shunned from my house four years ago returned, the bastards back. Anger overcame my body, but I couldn't move, I wanted get up and run for my life, run away from here, far away and never come back. I would not be going anywhere with that traitor even if it killed me.

"Please Dad, I know she's never forgiven me for leaving, let me help her." I could hear the agony in his voice, and I only prayed that it would stay. I wanted him to feel the way I felt over all these years, I wanted him to feel betrayed and know what real pain felt like, the only thing he ever left me with was cold and hard and showed no comfort or love to even its weakest victims. I was so overcome with anger that I felt myself drift off into another dreamless sleep, to which I pray I never wake up from.