Broken // Michael Clifford [Finished For Now]

Chapter Sixteen

Michael's POV

I wasn't sure how to respond to what she had just told me. I didn't understand how this had anything to do with what was going on with her dad, but in hopes that she would elaborate I stayed silent and looked over at Diana.

She had slouched down to try and hide her face, her brown hair hiding it from view. I could see the tears falling from her face and into her lap as she tried to wipe them all away in a frenzied manner. She sniffled her nose every once in a while and I could tell that she was trying to calm herself down before saying anything else to me.

I don't blame her for getting so worked up. I probably would have done the same thing if it were me that had just told someone about the day I watched my mother die; especially if they had shot themselves on purpose.

She slowly lifted her head up and stared at the wall in front of her. After a minute or two of this she was able to turn and face me with her red, tear-filled, and hurt eyes.

"I still can't figure out why she would have done something like that. Right in front of me too, it was like she didn't care enough about me to spare me from the nightmares and demons she has caused since that day." She said in small, almost inaudible whisper.

"Did the police find anything? A letter, a messege..." I wondered.

"No. They gave me her phone after their search and I checked to see if she had opened my text. The one that said I was almost home."

"Did she?"

"It had already been read. She saw it and didn't even care." She responded with a defeated tone in her voice.

"Diana, none if this is your fault. No matter what you think. Your mom was only thinking about herself. She was just being selfish."

Something in her expression changed for a split second. She looked hurt at what I said, but quickly caught herself and her face registered to a look of vulnerability once again. "I've never really thought of it as selfish before. I don't think I'm completely ready to talk about how she felt and what caused her to do what she did yet."

"Sorry." I apologized. I wanted to comfort her and hold her close to me again like I had last week, but I don't think that's what she needed right now. I think she needed to get everything off of her chest and I was going to let her. "How does this relate to what happened tonight and the other day?" I urged her in a gentle voice.

She smiled for a moment remembering something before answering me. "Before my mom committed suicide everything was how it looked. We looked like a happy family of three, laughing and smiling as much as possible. We would always go to the metro parks to have picnics and enjoy all of the nature around us. It's one of the only places I can clear my head anymore."

Her smile faded as the memory's place was taken by newer ones and her eyes became a little more frightened than before.

"After my mom died my dad couldn't handle it. I stopped hanging out with my best friend and secluded myself from the world for a while, but I realized that I would have to move on eventually. My dad hasn't come to this realization yet. He started to drink a beer or two the first week it happened, trying to stay a little stronger than I was for my sake. He knew I had discovered the body, but he still doesn't know that I saw it happen; I don't think I'll ever be able to tell him."

"The second week he drank a little earlier than the first along with another beer or two. He gradually progressed over these last few weeks leading up to his routine. He would come home from work, have about two beers before dinner, then maybe four afterwards. He would get up from the couch and stumble to his bedroom around 8:00 or 9:00 every night so he could be sober for work in the morning. He would come home a little after 4:00 every night and repeat the whole thing."