The Girl With The Gloves

In Bloom

Warning: This chapter may be a trigger for some people.

"Dad?!" I screamed at the lifeless figure still strapped into his seat by his seatbelt. My own seatbelt was long forgotten by now. I could only hope that the ambulance would get here fast enough, but deep down I knew that he was long gone. I had lost my biggest hero. A sickening combination of blood, sweat and tears was pouring down my face at an alarming rate. "Do not leave me. Please do not leave me. What about mom?! What about the baby?!  How dare you?! " I was hysterical now. Nirvana's In Bloom was still playing in the background softly. My favorite song. Our favorite song.

I jolt awake sweat pouring my face. The familiar tune of In Bloom playing in my mind along with the metallic smell of blood. My throat is dry. I have to get out of here.

I throw blankets off of me and run downstairs not caring about waking anybody up. I need water. Now. I grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it to the top with tap water.

My hand are trembling viciously. It's a sign that I need to calm down. I need to calm down before I-

The glass falls from my hand and breaks as it hits the floor shattering into many-

-pieces of glass were scattered all over the road. They looked beautiful in a way but I was too busy panicking-

-,my breathing increased and it seemed as if the temperature was rising-

-steadily. breath steadily. Exactly what I couldn't do. I could here somebody calling my name but I was too far-

-gone. He's gone and I'll never get him back. I glanced at the glass.

No. No, no, no. Do not do it.

But I was already walking towards the shards. I picked one up. Slippery from the water. Do I need to do this? Add to the scars on my arm?

The voice in my head turns vicious.

Pathetic. Worthless piece of shit. That's why dad left. He was ashamed.

I cringe and press the glass into my skin, not quite piercing it. I pause. Is this really worth it?

I watch my dad with wide eyes as he bends down my level, looking me straight in the eye. "Now, when ever you're feeling down, Allie just think, 'it will get better.' Do you promise?" I nod slowly, almost wary at the seriousness in his tone. "I promise."

I almost scream, leaning back against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor.

I wish it were that easy, dad.

Carefully, painstakingly, I force myself to drop the glass, silent tears streaming down my face. Instead of feeling better I feel as though I might puke.

"What did you do?!"  I hang my head, ashamed.

"I can't help it." I say it quietly. So quietly I'm surprised my mom even heard me. She wraps her arms around me in a hug. "Oh Allie, it's okay, you'll get better, we'll help you get better."