The One I Cant Have (a Michael Clifford Fanfic)

Chapter 32

I was sitting on my bed in the dark room I used to call my own. Everything about our house was depressing. There were broken beer bottles everywhere, cigarette butts all over the floor, and we owned thick blinds which meant no light. I don't think that that was the main reason, I choose to believe my father has just been neglecting the bills again.

I ran my fingers over all of the old drawings on my wall. Nostalgic memories came rushing through me. Only, they weren't good ones. The only decent memories I have are the ones where I was having a drink with my dad. I spotted a lonesome cigarette butt on the floor. I couldn't help but think of my mom.

She was a nice lady. Very fragile. I think she was depressed... She could have just been afraid of my dad.

She would always sit alone in the dark bedroom. One night when I was around four, I ran up to my mother while she was taking her pills in the morning. She jumped and spilled them everywhere. I think she was having a mental breakdown, because after that she just kind of sunk down and started crying.

I always felt this guilt deep within my soul. Even at my happiest moments I feel an uncontrollable pain of sadness. I knew it was her choice to take the heat for me, but I don't know if she's okay. 

Stop. She's fine. They have counselors in jail- right?  She's probably better now. I thought to myself.

"CARTER GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW." my dad called. Whoo-hoo. Just what I needed.

I ran downstairs to find my dad holding my iPhone. I left it downstairs by accident. Uh-oh.

"What the fuck is this? Huh?" he asked. "Did those buffoons buy it for you?!" 

"Yeah.. Can I have it back now?" I held my hand out, but he didn't give it up.

"No." 

I watched as my dad stuffed my phone into the back pocket of his torn up jeans. His jeans weren't intentionally ripped up, more as they appeared due to overuse.

He ran into our tiny garage and came back out holding a hammer. I quickly picked up on his plans.

"DADDY NO!"

It was too late. In the blink of an eye, my phone was crushed into multiple tiny pieces. It felt as if my heart was the victim of the hammer.

My dad was still pounding at the phone, despite it being long gone, and I just had to get out of there. My father used new locks on all of the doors, and he keeps the key in his pocket at all times. The only choices left were the bathroom, or my room. I was leaning towards the latter.

I ran up the stairs, my face buried in my hands. How could he do that? How was I supposed to talk to the guys?

I hope they're doing okay. I just need to see them soon.

Michael's POV (four months later)

It's been exactly four months and Carter still hasn't returned. Ashton keeps telling me that she's fine, that she probably just needed some space.

I'm not too surpirised to be honest. One thing Carter and I have in common? We both run away from our problems. She's just never taken this long to come to her senses and return home.

I've tried calling her, texting her, but she doesn't reply. 

It's been rough, these past few months. I keep looking at my tattoo, craving the other half. To the moon. I read. To the moon. To the moon. To the moon.

I don't know how much longer I can go. I unlock my phone and scroll through my music. I began to play If These Sheets Were States by All TIme Low and let the music drown out my sadness.

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A/N  hewwo. ((: not my longest chapter, i know, but sorry! this chapter is setting everything up for the last few chapters. feeling kinda blue lately. five chapters left. the depression is real (jk haha dont need meds) "smalla then a bug" -calum t hood

love yall hardcore!

Stay Punk Rock,

Queen of Recklessness