Daughter ✯ Kellic

Chapter Two

"No, you'll be coming home soon. I don't know exactly when, Mike, but it should be soon. The doctor said it would be a day or two, because you do have to recover." Mike makes an annoyed grunt on the other end, probably pissed at me for not having the answers to his inquires.

"I don't need to recover, I'm fine," he argues, most likely crossing his arms. I sigh, massaging the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb. "This is bullshit. I didn't even know you could be allergic to drugs."

"You can be allergic to anything, Mike," I say. He groans and I stand up straighter, relieving a slight pain in my back. "I'm still wondering exactly what you were doing. They said there were other drugs in your system...Mike, were you-" I cut myself off, looking behind myself to make sure Kellin isn't anywhere near me; hopefully, he's asleep. "Mike, were you trying to kill yourself?" I ask quietly, hardly above a whisper.

"Vic, I-" he pauses, letting out a deep breath. "Vic, I wouldn't do that shit, you know how much I appreciate what you do for me. I was just, I don't know..I wanted to trip or something." He lets out a small whine and sniffs slightly, showing small signs that he either is crying, or about to cry. "I'm so sorry," he says, his voice cracking near the end. My heart snaps and I walk over to the kitchen table, taking a seat, hearing him sob quietly through the phone. "I'm so, so sorry..."

"Mike, it's okay," I say, feeling my own tears begin to well up. "You made a mistake and that's the end of it, okay? Well, I mean, before we get to the end of it, I wanna know about the full details," I say, steadying my voice. A small sigh emits from Mike's end of the phone.

"Can we talk about it when I get out?" he questions. "I just wanna fucking sleep."

"Yeah, they said you'd still be drowsy. You should be home tomorrow, we can talk then. I love you, Mike," I finish quietly. A small smile forms on my lips as I say this, glad that Mike's allergic reaction wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"I love you too, Vic. Goodnight." With that, he hangs up, and I stand up, heading upstairs. I decided on talking to Kellin tomorrow, since I'm actually way too tired to deal with him right now. I quickly check on Copeland, smiling at her sleeping face. I've always had a strange love for kids, and I'm not quite sure why, but it's why I continued with babysitting instead of looking for something that pays better. I genuinely don't mean that in a pedophilic or creepy sense either, I just enjoy taking care of kids. Plus, I hardly have any education, and child care is one of the few things I would actually be able to get a job in. Not like I've been working since I've met Kellin.

I am worried, though; if Kellin and I can't work through this (which I'm really hoping we can), is he going to move out? Is somebody else supposed to watch Copeland for him? I sigh and navigate in the dark to our bedroom. I feel horrible about everything, mostly because I don't want to take anything out on him, even if it is his fault. Thoughts rush around like weightless ghosts in my mind as I climb into the bed next to him, his light snoring bringing me a small sense of comfort.

Yet, I can't keep the worry out of my mind. Kellin moving out, Copeland being taken away from him, what money I've been using to pay for everything running out, Mike continuing to take drugs and ruining himself - all of these horrible things are completely cluttering my headspace. I turn onto my side, my back to Kellin instead of cuddling with him. I hadn't noticed I was crying until I feel my wet cheek wiping tears onto my arm.

If I can't fix things, it's all going to fall apart. After how well it was working out, what Mike, Kellin, and I had might just be ruined. I wipe my tired eyes, ignoring the tears that slip out. Kellin turns over beside me and I freeze up, hoping he's still asleep. "Vic, are you crying?" he inquires quietly. Well, I guess my bad luck sure hasn't run out.

"No, no, I'm fine," I say, refusing to turn onto my other side and attempt to see him in the dark of our room. "Go back to sleep." Once his side of the bed is silent, I turn over, my eyes adjusted enough so that I can see the outline of his body. His eyes are open, shining oddly in the dark, and he's staring at me. "Go back to sleep," I repeat quietly.

"Babe, why were you crying?" he whispers, scooting closer to me. I sit still as his arm wraps over my side and back, pulling us together slightly. "Something is obviously up with you today, and I wanna know what it is." I remain silent. I wasn't really planning on speaking to him at all tonight. "Vic?" he questions, sounding worried.

"I'm fine," I say simply, turning back over and attempting to ignore him. I hate this - I hate being mad at him, like I'm back in my moody teenage years. But how am I not supposed to be aggravated with him? All I want to do is let him bury his face into the crook of my neck as I hold him close to me, but I can't when I'm so pissed about what he did. I also want to hug Mike tightly and let him know that he isn't the one I'm mad at, but it's kind of difficult when he has to spend the night in the hospital, which I can only imagine how terrible that must be.

Am I really fine? I was crying, but it wasn't like I was crying on purpose - I hardly ever do. When my emotions overwhelm me it happens, but I hardly ever do cry. I hate being pushed to my limits, it used to happen so much. I had to get out of that place, so I did.

Yet, I suddenly feel stuck and contained here in this bed with my boyfriend.

With that feeling looming over me, I climb out of the bed and walk to our bathroom, nervously locking the door behind me. I stare into the large mirror, gazing at myself in the reflection. My eyes are bloodshot, so I'm guessing I was crying harder than I had initially thought. I look over my body, remembering when I was a teenager and all the problems I faced back then.

I always felt uncomfortable in my skin, but I think a lot of people feel that way about themselves. I look down at my bare chest, suddenly self-conscious. I've always been my worst enemy. Nobody has ever insulted me more than I've insulted myself. I nitpick every little thing about my body and my personality until I've criticized it all and I'm left to feel sorry for myself. I turn away from the mirror and sigh, leaving the bathroom without touching anything in it. I get back into the bed, pulling the covers up as far as I can.

Kellin shifts beside me and I make myself go still again, hoping I didn't disturb him. I turn my back to him and close my eyes. Tomorrow I'm going to make things right. I'm going to tell Kellin about what happened and I'm going to talk to Mike about the what happened, the full version. Tomorrow, I'm going to fix everything.
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sorry that was so boring. but poor Vic, man. he's so sad )):