Don't Waste Your Breath, It's Too Late

I slammed my locker door shut the next morning after third period and sighed heavily. It would be an understatement to say that morning wasn’t terrible. Dad and I barely spoke with the exception of muttered curse words at each other, and every time we looked at one another a harsh glare was sent. Even the car ride to school was bad. You could feel the thick tension between us, and it wasn’t pleasant.

“Eliza,” Her soft, girly voice said from behind me. Oh dear God, why? Why was she speaking to me?

I turned around slowly and locked eyes with hers. “What the hell do you want, Vanessa?” I asked slowly, getting straight to the point.

“I uh, I just wanted to say how sorry am I am about your mom. I know you loved her a lot, and I know you’re gonna miss her.” She said sincerely.

I raised an eyebrow at her, not sure if I was hearing her correctly. Yes, I appreciated her apology and such, but seriously that wasn’t going to change the fact that I hated her.

“Thanks,” I muttered, trying by best to be nice. I glanced away from her and studied everyone around me. It wasn’t until then I noticed people starring at me and whispering to one another. I directed my gaze back to Vanessa. “Could you possibly tell me why everyone is staring and talking about me?” I asked, pretty curious as to what I did to deserve such attention.

Her eyes widened slightly. “You don’t know?” She questioned.

I refrained from rolling my eyes no matter how hard it was, and believe me it was hard. “Obviously not if I’m asking you.” I said, wanting nothing more than to slap the stupid out of her.

“Well,” She sighed, before reaching into her messenger bag that was hanging on her shoulder. “Here, read this.” She said as he handed me a magazine, before walking away.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion before looking down at the magazine. “Oh...my...God,” I said slowly out loud as I starred down at a picture of dad and I walking out of the Dr. Russell’s practice.

--

“Dad!” I called out as I walked through the front door an hour later after walking home from school. I threw down my book bag in a pissed off manner before walking into the living room where him, Papa Gates, and Zacky were sitting around talking.

“What the fuck are doing home, Eliza? I just dropped you off at school like four hours ago.” Dad barked, standing up from the couch. He folded his arms over his chest and give me a look that told me I better answer him or else.

I rolled my eyes. “Have you fucking seen this shit?” I questioned, tossing him the magazine.

He raised any eyebrow at me before looking down at the magazine he held in his hands. “Oh, fuck.” He muttered.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “You fucking think that’s bad. Why don’t you flip to page thirty-six? There’s a whole fucking story about me cutting, mom dying, me now living with you, and apparently my suicide attempt from the other night!”

“Eliza, I’m so sorry.” He apologized, knowing that was the only thing he could do about the situation.

I didn’t want a fucking apology; I wanted to crawl into a whole and die. How was I supposed to show my face at school again? Hell, how was I supposed to show my face in public at all? I was humiliated beyond belief. Everyone knew what was going on with me, and by everyone I mean the whole world. How did they get so much information on me? How did they know about my accident the other night? None of it made sense to me and I needed some answers.

I shook my head, ignoring his apology. “I’m going my room. Don’t bother talking to me right now.” I said before turning away and leaving the room.

“Damn it, Eliza stop!” Dad yelled, following after me into the foyer.

“Stop what?” I questioned as I turned around before sending him a sharp glare.

“Stop running and fucking talk to me!” He demanded. “Whether you like it or not, you are my daughter and I’m all you have now. You need to stop running from your fucking problems and face them. Tell me what’s on your mind and talk to me instead of hiding away in your room and cutting yourself!”

Anger boiled in my veins. “It’s not that fucking simple, dad!” I hissed, placing my hands on my hips.

“Then explain it too me, Eliza, fucking explain it to me!” He yelled, losing his temper and his patience with me.

I threw my hands up in the air, frustrated beyond belief. “I can’t explain it! Don’t you fucking get that? I can’t talk to you about anything, never could. This is how it’s always been. Face it dad, you weren’t around while me and Elijah were growing up. We got a five-minute phone call from you weekly to check in on how we were doing and that was it. We never talked about anything serious going on in my life, and now you want that to change. You want to be here for me and you want me to open up to you, but you need to fucking realize that it’s not that easy. How am I supposed to talk to you when I hardly know you?” My voice cracked slightly causing me to stop my rant.

I knew by the expression on his face that he was hurt by what I had said, but I was just as hurt too. I don’t think he realized that him not being apart me life like he should have really upset me, and made me hate the fact that I was his daughter. I wish he had just tried harder to see Elijah and I instead of ignoring us to tour with the band and be with the guys.

“Eliza,” He murmured, stepping closer.

“No, just stop dad.” I shook my head. “Don’t waste your breath, it’s too late. We’re never going to change. We’re never going to stop fighting. And I don’t know if I can keep doing this for another two years.” I swallowed hard before finally turning away and walking up stairs to my room for the rest of the day.