Please Understand

Chapter 4: 3...2...1...

I held onto the diary for dear life as I gathered up the scattered pictures, and hurried out of her room. It's probably wrong of me to take these things, but I need something to hold onto, to keep me grounded while the Earth spins off it's axis. Hopefully, Danny will be absorbed in his video game, so he won't even notice me taking his daughter's belongings. I doubt he even remembers that he has a daughter. Alcohol and video games are the only things he loves. All he does is drink his pain away, and inflict pain on everyone around him. He doesn't care about who he hurts as long as he can find a way to forget. 

Quietly, I trudged down the stairs, and glanced around the corner, but he wasn't in his chair. My heart dropped to my stomach because I've never been in this house alone with him. Since her mother passed away, Amelia never really invited me over. We always went to my house, and if I did come over, then she always dragged me straight up to her room, so we could avoid talking to her dad. Honestly, I know I wouldn't be able to take him in a fight even if he was drunk off his ass, so I really needed to keep my big mouth shut. I stepped off the last stair and slowly walked into the living room, but still no sign of life. Maybe he's in the bathroom, or the kitchen getting another beer. Maybe I'll have time to make it out of here without him seeing me.

As I went to take another step towards the door, a big hand gripped onto my shoulder and turned me around without any effort. I halfway expected him to toss me across the room. "Hey, where do ya think you're goin', Mase?" he slurred and all I could stare at were his bloodshot eyes that were inches from mine and full of desperation. Insanity clearly shined through the murky green color.

My eyes widened and I blinked against the reeking stench of alcohol and soured sweat. When was the last time he showered? "I'm just heading home, Danny. I dropped off Amelia's homework," I replied, trying to keep my composure even though I was freaking out. My heart was crashing against my skin and beating in my ears. Maybe I could break from his grasp and make a mad dash for the door, but as the thought crossed my mind, his grip tightened on my shoulder.

He pushed my shoulder slightly, and then let his hand limply drop to his side with a small smirk, but I knew something was twisting his mind. "She's not here," he grumbled as he rolled his head. At first I thought he was trying to pop his neck, but then I realized he really has no control over his body. "Sssss gone." When he looked back, his eyes almost looked glassy, like they were beginning to fill with tears, but I knew better than to believe he would grieve over a daughter he ignored for years.

Maybe he's drunk enough that I could run away. Even if he was sober, I would be faster than him and in better shape. I stared at him, but he looked away from me. Was he actually upset about her absence? Did he feel guilty because he really should. He should miss his daughter as much as I do, and I hope he blames himself for her disappearance as much as I do. "I know she's not here," I began and I realized I was about to say the worst thing possible, "but maybe she'll come home soon." What is wrong with me?

His head snapped back up to meet my terrified eyes, and he pushed me against the wall, like a freight train barreling over a stalled car. Every bruised and battered piece of me screamed not to try to fight back because I knew I was going to lose even against this drunk, pathetic excuse of a man. "I thought you were different, Mase. Maybe you are," he slurred with recognition flashing through his eyes. "Where is she?" His booming voice shook the house, and my ears started ringing.

If my hands weren't hanging onto Amelia's mementos, then I might have covered my ears. I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst. If this is how it ends, then so be it, but I never thought it would be at the hands of my best friend's dad. He used to be normal; he used to be someone I looked up to. He used to watch football with my dad in this very living room while our mom's sat outside with their coffee and tea, chatting about the day Amelia and I would get married. We could always hear them, but we didn't care because we were too absorbed in whatever game Amelia made up that day. I always followed her lead, and I wished I had stayed in that place instead of letting her go. Why did I mess up so badly? Why did the two most important men in her life let her down? Why was I so easily comparable to this monster?

"You miss her too," he whispered in a considerably quieter voice. He let go of my shoulders, and I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding in. His arms fell limply to his sides, but hung like two giant weights.

I opened my eyes to see him taking a step back, but he was still inspecting me like he was trying to decide if he should let me go or not. "Of course I miss her!" I shouted, hating myself for my inability to control my emotions. I always have to break down at the wrong moments. "I want her to walk through that door right now, but she's not going to! I don't know where she is, but they aren't going to find her!"

He shrugged his shoulders, and looked towards the door as we both waited for her to come home. 3...2...1...Amelia still isn't here. "You're right, Mase. She probably won't come back. Even if she was kidnapped, she would probably rather stay there. If she's dead, then she would probably prefer that too. Whatever happened to her, she's probably better off," he rambled with a smirk. Suddenly, he had more control over his slurred voice, and he straightened his back. "Now, get out of my house. I don't like being this sober."

I scoffed without even realizing what I was doing, but I was so angry that I pushed passed Danny and headed towards the door. My hand wrapped around the cool metal, but I couldn't bring myself to twist it open. Run Mason. Here was someone I could yell at, someone I could blame, and then like a coward, I could run away before he murdered me. "I know you don't care about her. Maybe you used to, but you don't now. If you cared, then you would stay sober. You would go out there looking for her, but you don't care. You drove her away, and now you're wallowing in self-pity like you always have. I hope someday you get what you deserve because it's going to be a lot worse than this," I rambled as I looked around the dust coated pigsty. I didn't know where these words were coming from, but I couldn't stop them. Why was I so angry at this pathetic man? He probably wants sympathy as much as I do, and maybe that's why I hate him.  Maybe I see too much of myself in him. "You took her away from me."

Before he could reply, or come after me again, I ran out of the house, slammed the door, and ran across the yard. I sprinted, jumped over the small bushes between our houses, and ran into the sort of safety of my own house. I was panting and I knew any second my mother would be coming out of the kitchen to ask me where I've been, so I hurriedly went up the stairs and into my room. I locked the door and looked at how plain this room was compared to Amelia's. There were no pictures, no memories, just white walls, and a few trophies. Where was she? Why didn't I have any pieces of her in here?

Now all I have is this stupid journal and a few pictures I stole from her room.

I flopped down on my bed, and stared up at the ceiling. Should I read her diary right now? My eyes were burning, and I didn't think I would even make it through the first sentence at this point without bawling. Maybe I should attempt to sleep, but after the day I've had, how can I? How can I sleep knowing she's out there somewhere? How can I sleep knowing her dad thinks she's dead? How can I sleep knowing I have to face my problems as soon as I wake up? How can I sleep knowing people think I had something to do with this? How can I...