sweet, sweet memories

Chapter Three ~ He Understood

Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated in forever. Being honest, I kind of gave up on this story because I had other shit to worry about. But after constant nagging from my friend, I've decided to continue this book. I'm starting to get back into the groove again so hopefully I can update at least weekly now. Sorry again!

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~Skylar~

The dinner went pretty smoothly as far as awkward dinners with fathers you haven't seen since the dawn of time went. And to make matters even worse, he had another girlfriend. Yes, another. And like all of the others, this one was stuck-up, way too young for my father, and a perfect Barbie right down to the plastic procedures. Although I hadn't seen him in person since the divorce except for a few vacations sprinkled here and there (which I hated by the way), my mother had kept me updated on how my father's life went. And before everything went downhill for me and I distanced myself, we would gossip about his love life. Just the thought made my heart ache. I wished that I could turn back time... I wished so bad...

Anyways, the food was pretty good. Classic spaghetti. After I finished eating, I quickly excused myself and rushed off to my room. And here I was, sitting all alone in my room contemplating the meaning of life like the thoughtful, hormonal teenage girl I was. Yay...

I didn't feel like going on the internet. I didn't feel like playing on the Xbox. I didn't feel like reading. And I had already unpacked everything so I had nothing to do. To sum it all up, I was a very, very, very, very bored and sad child.

Having nothing to do, I resorted to thinking, and of course, thinking led to me remembering how painful it was to lose the only family member that cared about me. How painful it was to leave behind my loving aunt and wonderful best friend.

My father obviously doesn't want to have to deal with me. I'm a mess. A wreck. A mistake. What's the point? Allen hasn't texted me either. Maybe he's forgotten already. Maybe I wasn't that important at all? Those years meant nothing. Those late night talks. Nothing. Gone. Maybe I should text him. Maybe I shouldn't blame him. It's all my fault, right? These thoughts floated through my head, consuming my thoughts.

In an effort to divert my attention, I picked up the phone and texted Allen. I needed someone to talk to. Especially Allen. He always knew what to say.

Me: Hey. Long time no talk. I miss you. What've you been up to?

Ale: Hey, Sky. I miss you too.

Ale: I actually haven't been up to that much. How're you feeling?

Me: Not that great tbh. Dad's a bitch as always. You?

Ale: I'm not that bad, actually. Hey, can I be honest about something?

Me: Yeah...is something wrong?

Ale: No, not necessarily wrong...

Ale: Idk

Ale: This is kind of hard to say, so I'll just say it. I'd appreciate it if you stopped contacting me, Sky. You've moved all the way across the country, and I don't see our friendship going anywhere. We can't hang out. We can't do anything besides the occassional Skype call. It'd just be easier if we ended it now.

My heart dropped. I couldn't breathe. I felt like a giant, empty pit had opened up inside of me. I couldn't do it anymore, so I picked up my phone and replied with the only word I could force myself to type.

Me: Okay.

That deep connection we formed was gone; severed by the distance. Forever lost in the void of memories I would lock and seal away. The pain was so intense that before I knew it, I was crying. So I got up and dealt with the pain in the only way I knew.

My wrist. The razor. Dripping blood. I didn't cut deep enough to damage anything or to kill me because while I was tempted, I had to stay alive. Mom would've wanted me to live out my life so that's exactly what I was going to do.

Before I knew it, dozens of cuts littered my wrists and blood was dripping onto the floor, and while the cuts stung, it took my mind away from the numbing pain in my heart at the moment. I did feel better though. I grabbed a towel and applied pressure to my wrists to stop the bleeding and mopped up the blood on the floor with it once the bleeding at stopped. I threw the towel in the hamper, but picked it up after thinking about it and started to hand wash the blood out. I didn't need anyone else knowing about my issues. Especially the maid.

Nobody would understand and they'd just say that it wasn't worth it.

After the towel was clean, I threw it in the hamper and walked out into my room. And for the first time, I actually took it in. The first time I walked in, I was too grief-ridden and I really just didn't give a shit after that. But right now, I could see that it was rather large, but not so large that it was drafty and gave me the feeling that someone else could be in the room with me. The walls were a dark purple and a black, silk bed sat in the center.

Pretty classy, and my dad seemed to pick up on my style.
Whenever I visited before, I always stayed in a guest room so this was the first time I'd actually be living in my own room at my dad's house.

I strolled over to the cabinet where I'd unpacked my shirts and pulled out a long-sleeve. I couldn't wear my Fall Out Boy t-shirt anymore because you could see my cuts. I settled for just a striped black and white long sleeve and sat down on my bed and turned on the TV. I had to keep my mind occupied.

Suddenly, my door opened and Ryder was standing in the doorway.

"Hey, sweetheart. What you up to?" he asked with that smirk he always had displayed on his face.

"As you can see, I am trying to watch TV. But some one just felt like inserting their unwanted self into my precious time," I mumbled and changed the channel.

He glanced at the TV and raised one of his eyebrows in a questioning look. "You're watching Spanish people make out on a vintage couch? I didn't know you were like that, Skylar." He chuckled and sat down on the edge of my bed after closing the door behind him.

"Why don't you shut up and get out?! Why the hell are you here anyways?" I growled and threw the remote as hard as I could at him. I yelped as a sharp pain jabbed at my arm. I had torn open one of my cuts and the blood started to stain my sleeve.

Shit. I hugged my arm to my chest and tried to hide the ever-growing stain. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"You okay?" Ryder asked, worry masking his features.

"I'm fine." I ground my teeth to stop myself from squirming from the pain.

"Let me see," he said, reaching for my arm.

"Back off. I'm fine." I glared, willing him to back the fuck up, but I was so terrified that he would find out. Terrified that he would tell my father. Terrified that he would judge me. Terrified of me being seen as weak.

A hurt of look crossed his face before quickly being replaced with a determination that drove my terror to the edge of the cliff. "Skylar. Show me, now," he said before snatching my arm.

As soon as he saw the large stain of blood on my sleeve, he slowly peeled the cloth away and revealed my scars and cuts.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I prepared myself for the judgmental looks of sympathy and pity; however, his face remained surprisingly blank as he pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. He didn't say anything, he just hugged me. That's when the tears finally overflowed from the emotional dam that had been holding them back. I started sobbing into his shoulder about everything. About my mother's death. About my dad and his ever-changing girlfriends. About moving to a bustling city that I didn't know anything about. And about how he understood.

Part way at least. He didn't give me pity or looks of sorrow. He just comforted me and he trusted me to be able to get through this alone on my own strength. And that was all I could ask for.

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