Broken // Michael Clifford [Finished For Now]

Chapter Thirty

Diana's POV

I threw my bag into the back seat of the car as Michael seated himself behind the wheel. I climbed into the passenger seat and closed the car door. A silence encircled us as he started the engine and backed out of the driveway. My head was turned towards the window, but I wasn't looking at the scenery as we drove past. I felt numb and everything was just blurring together. My thoughts were scrambled and confused, so I tried not to think. I tried to tune everything out even though I knew I shouldn't.

I could feel rather than see Michael glancing at me every few seconds as he drove. Suddenly the car stopped and that was when I decided to tune my mind back into the world surrounding me. We were pulled over on the shoulder of the road with the hazard lights on. I hadn't even noticed him pulling off the road before stopping.

"Diana!" I heard Michael shout, probably because I hadn't heard him the first few times he had said my name. I slowly turned to face him, my face showing no emotion. I didn't say anything to him because I was still numb from everything. I kept hearing my dad's words repeat over and over in my head. 'You'll end up just like your mother! Dead!' He said.

Michael shifted his body in the seat to face me. "Diana, talk to me." He pleaded.

And I continued to stare at him. Unable to clear my mind of the fog it was in. I needed to go somewhere I felt safe. Somewhere I could think. Somewhere calming and tranquil.

"The park." I breathed.

"What?" Asked Michael with a puzzled look across his face.

"Can we go there? Now." I continued.

He put the car back into drive. "Erm, yeah. If that's what you want right now."

As soon as we got to the park I simply got out of the car and walked. I walked to the pond I had gone to as a child, the one I was at about a week ago. I heard Michael rushing to follow me and get out of the car, his footsteps crunching the few leaves left on the beaten path. It was getting really cold out now. My breath came out in large puffs of fog. The air was chilled and I could tell that snow would be coming sooner than last year.

"Why are we here?" Michael wondered when he caught up to me.

"I came here a lot as a kid. With my mom and dad." I cracked a small, yet weak smile. "We used to have picnics by this little pond. My mom would run around and chase me as my dad took out all of the food for us to eat. He brought his camera sometimes and took pictures of all of us. Whenever I was here I felt free. I didn't feel like I was chained to all of these problems that were and still are pulling me down, slowly drowning me among the things that I used to hold close." I wasn't smiling anymore. "My mind has started to lose sight of that little girl with her mom and dad smiling happily. I am forgetting how that feels. Sure, I've been happy the past day or so, but it doesn't last long; it never does. Not anymore at least. Whenever things start to build up and get better they come crashing down on me. Trapping me underneath the memories of how it used to be. Memories filled with smiles and laughter. Memories that mock me in situations like this. Memories that never last long enough to keep me from slowly breaking, bit by bit, piece by piece. I feel a part of me get chipped away each time I think of one of those memories. At this point I think it would be best to forget the most cherished moments of my life because I know that I will never be the same again."

Michael grabbed my wrist and stopped walking. "Stop."

"Why?" I said looking at his hand on my wrist. He let go.

"Stop talking like that. I'm not saying that you can't talk to me about anything, because I want you to be able to talk to me about everything, but it kills me when you say things like that. I can't stand the thought of you being unhappy and purposefully trying to forget parts of your life. Especially the things that should cheer you up and make you feel better. And you can be happy for more than just a little while." He started before I intervened.