My Dearest Dear. [Drake Christopher] {NOW BACK!}

Chapter Eleven [Sharing a Past and a Hotel Bed? Checking In]

----------------Drake's POV------------------------------------

Emalee was thoughtful for a few silent moments, eyes stuck on the road. She decided to tell me about her past, which I thought was really awesome because that means she trusts me, right?

"Well, uhm, my mom left me and my dad when I was thirteen, and my dad kind of became a drunkard." She said, her cheeks turning red. I nodded and looked at her with understanding. My mom and step dad had overdosed when I was ten, and it hit me hard.

"He remarried once, but I never saw the girl again after a month or so. I figured she left, but my dad always says she's on a business thing," Emalee shrugged, "It's been about three years since I brought her up, he'd always go insane." 

"But yet, he never ever hit me. Called me names and threatened to a few times, and being a pretty weak girl, I broke down a lot. Like way too much. By the time I was fifteen I thought I didn't have any tears left to shed. I- I just hated school, I wasn't, like, bullied though I guess, but I never really had friends I trusted." Emalee sniffled a little and I gently squeezed her hand, she sent me a thankful, sad smile.

"This one guy, Vic, he was almost always there for me, I was best friends with his brother, everything was fine until he met my dad. Vic hated him immediately, and they always fought whenever I tried to bring him over. I was really in love with him, because he was my first love, and I was almost sixteen. On my birthday my dad told Vic I hated him and never wanted to see him again, only because he was suspicious of Vic and his brother because they had started a garage band. Vic and Mike never tried to talk to me again, ever, and I didn't talk or even look at my father until I had heard Vic had moved. So there was no chance again of me seeing him." I was wide eyed, who could do that to someone? Decide a big part of their life? It made me sick, and it was so stupid that the Vic guy left her alone, not talking to her ever again.

"So, like I said, when I didn't talk to my dad, I didn't talk to anyone. I dropped out of tenth grade for a semester, and he didn't care. I felt shitty all the time, and I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror, it was the time where I was into darker stuff. Nothing felt right, then I went back to school. Then I got bullied, then I met a new kid that was also into darker stuff. His name was Max. We always met up after school, at a park or in his car somewhere. I felt like I finally had a grip on my life because he was there, slowly becoming my best friend, but one week I hadn't heard anything from him. No one wanted to talk to me..." Emalee choked a little, taking a deep breath. 

"I went to his house, and his older sister opened the door. She was a pretty, popular girl who was glitter and neon pink and bleached hair. She looked annoyed, asking rudely what I was doing there. I said I was wondering about Max, and she scoffed at me a little, saying this exactly, 'That faggot was never my brother, and he killed himself Sunday. Get the fuck off my yard, because you're just like him, emo twat,' at that point... I just... Ran." She shuddered and I rubbed her hand with my thumb in little circular patterns, taking a slow sip of my drink.

"I didn't go home for a day or two. I slept in a tree. When I came home, my father was yelling at some woman, but I had a pounding headache and just went up to my room. Just to sleep off everything, then I woke up around four in the morning to shower. That's the first time I ever looked at a blade wrong. After cleaning up it was all I could think about. I thought it could solve everything, release my pain with blood. But my dad came in, scaring me to death, so I hid the knife somewhere in my room, and he started talking about my mom. He was sober, and actually trying. I just couldn't listen though, my mind went blank every time he asked something. Soon he gave up and left me alone, and I stayed in my bed for the longest time. Not once hungry, thirsty, or bored. My mind was reeling with the death of Max, every now and then going back to Vic, my mom, and the fact that I had school Monday. Alone. I never shed a tear, I was emotionless for the longest time, but I soon found myself returning to normal. By the time I was seventeen, I talked to my dad casually, and no one really screwed with me." Emalee pulled over at a lit up Inn, letting her hand fall into her lap limply.