Paint It Black

After my "shift" was done, I went out to my car to head home. I had said my goodbyes to the guys, except Frank. I didn't really bother to think about him anyway.

I walked out to the side parking lot, making my way to the Mazda when I felt a hand take hold of my arm. I was spun around and against the wall. I gasped, scared, but screamed angrily when I saw Frank.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I punched him in the chest.

He didn't even flinch, "We need to talk."

I rolled my eyes, "Talk about what?"

"These stupid little games you're playing."

"What are you talking about? What games am I playing?"

"Acting all cheery and shit," snarled at me.

"What?" I was highly confused by all of this.

"First, you were toying me around, acting like you wanted me--"

I cut him off, "You toyed with me Frank! You had me feeling how I use to and then when I try and explain things to you, and how I feel, you blow up at me! And then, you go and have some girl, kissing on her, while I'm trying to talk to you. Then you kiss and apologize to me--"

He cut me off next, "I was trying to spare your feelings!"

"By buttering me up at the club, and kissing me at my friends house? By fucking me?"

"You said one last time!" he growled back.

"No," I pointed at him, "you said one last time!"

"You never said you wanted more."

I was becoming frustrated and angry. My blood felt like it was on fire, and I wanted more than anything for Frank to leave me alone.

"Goodbye Frank," I shoved passed him.

"You always runaway! That's all you're fucking good at: Running away! That's all you'll ever be good for!" I didn't stop as he kept shouting, "You're a fucking nutcase, you know that? I can't believe I ever got involved with you!"

I stopped dead in my tracks, but didn't turn around. My chest hurt...I felt like I was having a heart attack...or maybe my heart breaking. I sucked in my bottom lip, my eyes stinging with hot tears, and my stomach turning.
--

I stormed pass my mom, and up to the guest room. I hurried up to my suitcase, stuffing all my clothes, folded and unfolded, into it. I shuffled with tears, trying my best to hurry, pack and call Butcher. I wanted to leave this place and never comeback.

"Sunny, what's going on?" mom asked as I moved around the room heatedly.

"I'm leaving," I told her sourly, "I'm getting out of this shitty fucking town."

I couldn't see her through my tears, but her movements never changed. She was at the door, holding onto the knob.

"What happened?"

"I got into an argument," I told her the truth, what's the point of lying to her.

"With who?"

I snapped at her, "What is this? 20-fucking-questions?"

She stayed still as I continued cramming everything into my bags, "I want to know what's wrong."

I looked over at her, wiping my eyes, "I want to go home," I pronounced each word slowly so she understood.

"Why? Tell me why," she had come over and took my arm.

"I hate this place."

"Who did you get in a fight with?"

"Who do you think?" I snapped at her again.

She was silent, letting go of my arm. I awaited her to tell me something, 'motherly' aversions, but she didn't say a thing. 

I stopped my packing, I grabbed my phone, not bothering if my mom was there, and called Butcher.

"Hey, kiddo," Butcher's voice warmed me a little.

"I'm coming home, can you get me a ticket? I'll pay you back, I just need to be on the next flight out," I spoke quickly, still being rude.

"Oh...Uh, sure thing," Butcher knew, he wasn't going to bombard me with questions.

"Thank you, I promise I'll pay you back every penny."

"Don't worry about it...I love you, kid." his tone softened, a caring tone.

"I love you, too, B."

I hung up, stuffing my phone into my pocket. I looked up, seeing mom sitting beside my bag. She looked up at me, still confused.

"Talk to me, Sunny," she ordered, "tell me."

I shook my head, "I don't want to talk. Talking got me into this mess," I hurried back to my bag, zipping it close, "And I'm not coming back to California. I don't care what you say, you'll have to drug me, tie me up, or something to make me come back here."

"What happened to you?" she shouted, turning to me fully, "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm crazy," I muttered, "I should be in a rubber room right now."

She shook her head, "Ever since you left, last time, you've changed so much. What happened to my baby?"

"She died," I quoted, as any angry girl would to her mother, "I've been dead for so long."

"Frank did this to you," she stated.

"He's part of it," I told her, "just like the baby, and Tyler."

She looked up at me, glaring her chocolate browns into mine, "I want you to talk to Tyler."

I shook my head, "The last thing I wanna do is talk to him. I don't want to talk to anyone."

She frowned, "Did you take your pills today?"

My stomach churned, hard, making me sick. I screamed out, looking for something to throw, but instead I punched my closed bag. Mom jumped, startled by my reaction.

"Those goddamn pills made me this way! Fuck those goddamn pills!" I exasperated loudly, sucking in after.

Mom stood up as I put my hands to my face, cradling me. I cried into her shoulder, sobbing so loudly, I could barely think or hear her coos.

"It's alright," she ran her hand up and down my back, "stop crying."

"I c-can't do it a-anymore," I sobbed softly now, "I don't want to..."

Mom kissed my forehead, taking her left hand and running it down my cheek, "You don't have to."

Mom stayed with me the entire night. She and I talked; like really talked. I told her everything, and I didn't leave out anything gruesome. To my surprise, she was understanding, and wasn't mad. She said she felt that Frank didn't mean all those things he said, that he was just trying to make me feel bad. The words didn't hurt anymore, the pain wore off, just like the medication.

I called Butcher, in the morning...

"I don't need the ticket," I told him sheepishly.

He chuckled, "I know, you were just reacting quickly on your feelings, right?"

"Yeah, I let some itty bitty words get to me."

"What did he say?"

I sighed, "It doesn't matter now, Butch."

"I'm gonna kick his ass," he started quietly, "I mean it."

I couldn't help but giggle, "No you won't, you are too sweet to fight anyone."

"I would, just for my baby sister," I awed at him, "I'm totally serious, Sunny."

"I know you are, it's just Frank is like 5'5 and you're 5'9," he chuckled with me.

"Are you still coming home on Saturday?"

"Yes, I promised Sisky."

"I guess we'll be waiting at the gate for you."

"Thanks again, Butcher."