Dead end. (ON HOLD)

2

Nobody ever figured out why Brandon started hitting me, but I knew, I always knew but never told. I look down at Casey’s sleeping form and smile. We had to catch a cab to Serena’s house. She lived in the next town over but still goes to my school, if you have a rich sister I guess she has a lot of connections. I knew that we wouldn’t be able to hide from Brandon forever, but if I’m able to stay hidden for these next six weeks, I’m home free, I get Casey and we leave. But I was never an optimistic person. If I was my father would still be alive.

My dad died when I was ten, I was there.

That was how people knew me. Not as Aubrey Steinfield, daughter of Sarah, who drank 24/7 and never left the couch, or as the girl who holds the record for the fifty-yard dash in middle school, Or the girl who missed school for half of a whole year, and didn’t tell anybody why not even her best friend, not even as the girl who picked her nose in third grade and ate the booger. No I wasn’t that girl, I was Aubrey Steinfield the girl who’d seen her father get mugged in the middle of the street and didn’t do a damn thing.

When he died, it seemed like people only thought of that when they saw me. They gave me that look of despair and pity, where they turn their head slightly and their eyes softened at the corners. I saw the face everywhere I went, when we had just gotten the news that the bullet hit a lung and it was collapsing. The nurse looked down at me with the face and placed her hand on my shoulder.

“He’s conscious but not for long, say your goodbyes sweetheart," The nurse stared at me long and hard. "It’ll be alright.” It’s depressing that she gave me more reassurance than my own mother. Who was too busy holding onto Brandon while he looked down at me in hatred, I was the only one who actually went into the room to look at my dad. Mom went out to smoke and sink her teeth into her new beau and Brandon wasn’t exactly family. I walked into that room a scared ten year old with no idea where my father was going. Seeing my dad hooked up to all those wires and machines scared the hell out of me.

“Hey daddy.” I said. My voice didn’t crack, the tears didn’t fall over. I didn’t cry, I couldn’t.

“Please don’t do this, please. I’ll be a good girl, I won’t fuss, and I’ll eat my veggies! Please daddy, don’t leave me.” I say. I grab onto his hand and lace ours fingers together.

“Baby, it’ll be alright. Keep your head up. Remember what I taught you?” He asked me, wheezing, struggling to catch that breath.

I look up at him and nod.

“If it’s meant to be, it will be.” I say. His voices echoes after mine.

“But this wasn’t meant to be daddy! It wasn’t, we were supposed to leave mommy and go to Florida.”

“I know baby, I know. But promise me, when you turn eighteen you will leave.” He says. He squeezes my hand one last time. I feel a tear leak out, it falls onto our entwined hands. That was the last time I ever cried.

Nobody ever asked me if I was hurting, they never asked me if I would be alright. It was always “I’m so sorry.” Or “It’s going to get better.” But it didn’t, it went straight down from there.

“Here we are, darling. Be safe.” The cab driver told me. He was a middle age guy, not ugly for an old dude, He had bright green eyes and black hair that was turning white at the sides. I nodded and looked at the meter; 20.43. I pulled out a twenty and started looking for change.

“I had some in here, I swear I did.” I felt an arm on my shoulder and I looked up at the driver. He gave me a weary smile.

“It’s alright, it’s on me.” He says. I give him a disbelieving look.