Story of a girl

This is my first attempt at writing so please feel free to message me with any constructive critisism and also if you think that I should continue this story. Enjoy:)

The real story

...And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket

But I've got to get a move on with my life

It's time to be a big girl now

And big girls don't cry

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...

Fergie- Big girls don't cry

We were watching 'Hook' when my dad sighed and started to get his car keys out of his pocket. I looked up and I cocked my head to the side wondering what was going on. 'Hook' was his favorite movie. He rarely left if it was playing.

"Where ya' goin?"I asked. He looked surprised like he hadn't remembered I was there. He hesitated before turning to face me. Then he hugged me and walked slowly to the door. He turned and said, "Hospital," then he left. I knew then that something was very wrong. He didn't give hugs. He didn't do physical contact at all.

Two hours later he and my mom weren't back. I heard my older sister on the phone, her voice getting scarier and more urgent every second. Finally, my oldest brother, Patrick, came in. The look on his face scared me. He was the strong one. The untouchable one. He looked at me briefly, and what I saw should have warned me something horrible was coming. His eyes seemed broken. With that one look he gave me, I knew. He broke eye contact with me and yelled for everyone to come to the living room. When everyone was there, he took a deep breath, looked everyone in the eye, and then began speaking.

"Dad has kidney cancer. Its stage four and that's as bad as it can get. The doctors are going to try as hard as they can, but..."

I felt the shock run across my face;felt the numbness run over my body like a blanket. It covered me, suffocated me even; but I didn't fight it. If anything, I helped cover myself with it. I don't remember much after that. Just voices. I remember thinking that I was never going to trust anyone again; they would just find a way to leave me... I kept telling myself this over and over again, He was never here before. No difference. No difference. It wouldn't matter if he was gone. It. Won't. Matter. I just kept repeating it to myself. Over and over again. It won't matter if he dies, because he won't die.

That was the first time I really cried. Fourteen years of tears were released that night, just hours after my brother had told me about my dad. It was stupid, but I sat on the roof of my house and just cried. The trees surrounding my house hid my tears from anyone that was watching, but I still felt like a disgrace for crying over something so meaningless. That was the first night I snuck out. I remember my first party. The alcohol numbed my feelings. I forgot about my dad. I forgot about all my problems, but the alcohol could only numb you for so long. And eventually, it took more and more to forget. I couldn't not notice the regular trips to the doctor, pills, quiet,and eventually home hospice.

Hospice started in May. I got home from school and there were a whole bunch of ladies in my dad's room. Now there's always some nurse with either my mom or my dad. Always talking about ways, possibilities; but worse than that, are the tears. My mom's face usually strong and bright was pale and thin. She was only 54 but she looked at least 65 now. The ghosts of her tears were always there. That scared me the most, the look on everyone's face. The strong turned weak. My heart went numb after a while. Nothing could touch me anymore, because I didn't care. About anything or anyone.

"Tiana!" my mom yelled. Stalling, I picked up my journal, randomly reading.

April 5--- Dad is taking trips to the hospital every week. Nothing has started working though.

May 16--- Hospice comes; they smell like old people and death... Like my Dad. Jill, the head lady yells at me every time I go to see him. I guess it doesn't really matter. He'll get through this. Then I'll have a Dad... Maybe... And if he doesn't, I don't want to get any more attached than I already am.

June 12--- He stopped eating! I don't know what to do! I feel like I'm a ghost walking in and out of life. I'm drinking more and more alcohol to forget. Am I becoming an alcoholic?

July 21--- He can't sit up. He can't go to the bathroom by himself either. My mom yells at me about everything. I hate her sometimes. It's like I'm being smothered with rules and punishments. I can't do anything right for her. I'm never good enough for her.

August 2--- He's hallucinating. The paparazzi are here and, we stole a boat. We're criminals apparently? He doesn't know who I am sometimes. I hate that I care. I hate that I love him. I hate that he's not fighting this! If he really wanted to live, why isn't he fighting? Why can't he just decide to survive?

September 14--- He's on morphine.

On the entry for the 14th there were water spots from my tears. That's where my journal ended. I hadn't written anything in it since that night. Those three words ended seven years of journal writing. "Tiana! Did you hear me?" my mom's nasally voice cut through the air. I slowly got up and went to my Dad's room. He was asleep as usual. The morphine basically kept him knocked out all of the time. I climbed on the bed next to him and carefully grabbed his hand. His skin was papery and yellow. I felt tears start to cascade down my face when I felt him squeeze my hand. I looked at him and he was watching me.

"What's wrong, Sissy?" he asked. I froze. He didn't know who I was. He didn't recognize me again. He thought I was Aunt Sissy? "Don't cry, Sissy. I'll take care of you. Just please don't cry." The tears came harder and faster. I jumped off his bed and ran.

"Tiana!" I heard my mom yell after me as I ran out of the door, but I just kept running. That was all that I could do. Run. I couldn't live in the past anymore. Hell, I couldn't even live in the now. My 'present' had become a nightmare. It seemed that the only thing I could do was run away from a father that didn't know who I was. Away from a mother who still saw me as a little girl; Away from everything. The world seemed to slow to a stop as I ran. It seemed as though nothing could stop me. Soon though, my legs buckled and I hit the ground. The sensations I felt as I hit the concrete was strange. It hurt, but it seemed as though anything was better than the pain inside of my heart, so I welcomed it. I let physical pain become my drive.

I soon learned that the more physical pain that I inflicted on myself, the less my heart would betray my true feelings. I stopped letting my emotions show and stopped paying attention to the world. My days became months, all I did was make the motions of the living so people would leave me alone. I began to punish myself with pain every time I felt any emotion other than indifference. Whenever I wanted to cry, I wouldn't eat for a couple of days. Every time I wanted to see my Dad I would cut a line into my wrist. I didn't have control.of anything other than myself. Everything else was out of my hands. I wanted so badly to have control of something. To know without a doubt what the outcome would be. That's when I started limiting what I ate. The dull pain from not eating was like a badge of honor for me. It was the only thing that was my own. In a month I went from being thin, and small to almost nonexistent. I looked as though someone could break me at any moment. But I didn't see that. All I saw was how not fat I was. My father became something of my past.

'Tiana can you go see if your fathers awake?' my mother stared at me warily, probably expecting some kind of rude response. I smiled sweetly. Just to confuse her.

'Sure mom, no problem.' I replied as I walked down the hall to my fathers room. I walked around the bed so I could see him. His eyes were closed and he looked more peaceful than I had ever seen him look. 'Daddy?' I reached my hand to his to see if he would react. As soon as my hand touched his, I stumbled back and screamed. He was cold. He was ice. He was dead. Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks as I fell to the ground into a fetal position. I vaguely felt someone touch my shoulder and I could hear the murmur of voices but I couldn't comprehend any of it. I didn't understand.