Broken||M.C

*Thirty-Five*

//This much cuteness should be illegal, bc it's deadly\\

Avery

It was now going on almost two months since Michael and I had split up, and three weeks since he had called. More and more pictures were surfacing of him and that girl. I'd be lying if I said I didn't care, because every time I saw one, I could feel my heart breaking even more. 

I know I shouldn't feel that way. He'll never be mine again. That was the reality of it all. I had accepted it, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt me every single day. I had cut a couple of other times, but I was trying to stop. There was no point in it anymore, I didn't even feel it when I did it. I was that numb.

Work was boring today, as that's where I was. I was all alone too, which only added to the boredom. Ragan was sick and Carl had the day off, so it was just me. I stood behind the counter, flipping through a music magazine. I landed on the section about guitars, and there was an article about Michael.

"Just can't get away from him." I said.

He was smiling on stage. I had always loved the way his eyes lit up and he just looked happiest when he was up there. That was the place that he felt the most confident, where he could truly be himself. He was born for it and I loved watching him up there.

The bell jingled above the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked up and immediately felt anger run through my veins. Dale, my father, walked in. He had this stupid smirk on his face that I wanted to slap right off of him.

"Hey Avery." He said, walking up to the counter.

"Hi." I said shortly. He was the last person I ever wanted to see.

"Well, you don't sound very happy."

"Should I be?" I said.

"I don't know. I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Do you really think that I would want to talk to you? After all you've done?"

"I thought maybe you would. Since the boy left and all."

I could barely stand to talk to him. My blood was boiling and it was taking every fiber in my being to keep me from jumping the counter and punching him in the face.

"He is gone for good, right?"

"Thanks to you, yes."

"Good. He wasn't good for you."

"How do you know? How do you, of all people, know what's good for me? You wanna know something? Thanks to you, I can't even listen to my favorite band anymore. Thanks to you, I started cutting myself again. Thanks to you, I've experienced the worst pain ever. Even worse than the pain you inflicted on me. All you do to me is hurt me, all you do is bring me pain. So please, for once and for all, just leave me alone."

I know I was pretty much begging him. But I had no choice, I needed relief from this. I was tired of pretending to be okay, I was tired of acting like everything was great, when I was dying on the inside.

He stood there, looked down and then back up at me. He actually looked sad.

"I'm sorry, Avery. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I'm a failure of a father and man. I've been thinking about all of this and I was wrong. I was wrong to treat you how I did and to take everything from you. I came here to tell you that I'm leaving town. My parole officer has given me permission to move to another town. I'm leaving Charlotte and your life for good. I just wanted to come by and tell you."