Just a Dare

Chapter Eighteen

The tension in the room increased tenfold as Melody slowly turned around, a surprised look on her face, and my furious eyes landed on what was grasped in her hands.

They involuntarily widened, and the waves of anger radiating off of me shuddered.

Although it was taken quite a few years ago, I would recognize that picture anywhere.

Dad was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his favorite guitar in his hands, his trademark carefree smile dancing across his face and lightening his grey eyes. And there I was beside him on my knees, my two-year-old self wearing a pair of footie pajamas with little green dinosaurs on them and my blonde (it began darkening when I was three or four), sleep-mussed hair sticking out in all directions, my chubby face full of admiration and wonder as I watched his fingers skillfully strum across the strings.

He had always loved music, and he played that old guitar, handed down to him by his great grandfather, until he had grown too weak to.

I felt my chest beginning to constrict as my eyes took in the room I had been so afraid of, my heart spluttering in my chest as the black hole in my heart began to swallow me up, and all I wanted to do was make it stop.

He was everywhere and nowhere; the overwhelming smell of his favorite cologne filled my nostrils, and as I gazed behind Melody at his old desk, I felt like I could almost see him there once more, crouched over his typewriter as he pounded out his book into the odd hours of the night. A book that he had told me I could read one day, when it was finally finished.

But he was gone, and I knew that there was no amount of imagination that could bring him back. Even his beloved typewriter seemed to know it, having succumbed to its disuse by collecting a thick film of dust over its worn keys.

When I saw that old guitar on its stand in the corner, I could feel myself dying inside, my lungs collapsing in on themselves.

"Trey, I-"

My eyes narrowed into slits and my attention was back on her. "Get. Out." I ground out.

The earlier shock on Melody's face was gone, and she looked back at the picture in her hands.

I glared at her with as much fire as I could and opened my mouth to repeat myself, taking a threatening step toward her, "I said-"

"No." Her voice rang through the air, loud and firm.

The rest of the sentence died in my throat, and I could feel the ever-persistent darkness gnawing inside of my chest again, but for once I didn't have the strength to fight it off. It tore into my soul before discarding its mangled, bleeding remains and leaving me with a hollowness where my heart used to be.

"Please."

The word escaped my lips before I had the chance to stop it, and I cursed myself when I heard the pitiful quiver in my voice. Her eyes wandered away from the framed photograph to meet mine, and as hard as I fought to rekindle the anger inside myself, the spark just wouldn't catch.

"What is this room?" Her voice was softer.

I broke eye contact and stared at the bare wall behind her, sighing and running a hand through my hair. "His office."

We both knew exactly who "he" was.

There was a long moment of silence and I looked up to see her gently set the frame back in its rightful place on his desk. "How long has it been since you've been in here, Trey?"

"Three years." My voice cracked.

She turned her head and looked at me with a soft expression I couldn't quite place before walking over to me and pulling me in for a warm embrace, and I suddenly realized how grateful I was that she was there with me as my arms numbly wrapped around her waist. "I'm here for you." She whispered, and I looked down to see her shining emerald eyes gazing up at me.