Begging For Answers

I shivered faintly.

The cool air that surfaced through the vents, was hitting my bare skin, with sunlight stricking the glass along the window's frame, and casting it's warmth across the bed sheets that were wrapped around my frame. My body was sore, and ached in multiple areas as I rolled along the suffocating blankets, and tried to wipe away the crust that had collected in the corners of my gray eyes.

I was met with John's soft smile, as I lay on my back with my head turned, and a timid smile subconsciously gracing my semi swollen lips. My eyes traveled down, discovering that the navy blue sheets were only pulled up as far as my waist, exposing all other parts of my naked self to the calmness surrounding me.

I could feel it - my face turning different shades of crimson, as my shaky hands began to scramble, rushing to pull the blankets up, and over to cover my bare chest - like it would save me from the humiliation that was already surfacing through my bones.

I heard John laugh lightly, and felt his hand grabbed hold of mine, stopping it from going any further with the sheets that my fingers clutched tightly too.

"I wish you'd stop." He whispered softly, and kissed the side of my face, before his head sunk back down into the pillow next to mine.

I felt nervous to speak, so I spoke nothing at all. I only laid there, feeling his warm breath hit my neck with every exhale his lungs took. I felt him place a delicate kiss along my bare shoulder, and his calloused fingertips lightly brush across the skin on my hips beneath the warm covers.

"How're you feeling?"

His voice was rough from sleep, and I could sense that his mossy eyes were closed, as his chin rested on the peak of my shoulder.

"Sore."

"I figured," I could feel him smiling against my skin, as he placed another tender kiss to my neck, "Don't worry it's pretty normal after your first time, or so I've heard."

I could feel my bones, my body stiffen at his words, and at his touch. I sat up, pulling, and wrapping the sheets tightly around my naked body, suddenly looking for a way to escape, before this whole thing got to complicated, even if it already had.

"Where are you going?"

His hands slipped from my bare waist. He sat up, and reached out to touch me, as I sat with my back facing him, trying to gather my pile of clothes from the floor that were strewn about his bedroom floor.

"I uh - I should probably go back to my room - your parents -," his fingers wrapped tightly around my arm, and I peered over my shoulder to look into his green eyes that were scrutinizing the way I tried to avoid eye contact for too long.

"It's 7:00 am on a Saturday, my parents aren't even up yet Lesley."

I struggled to ignore the questionable expression that was inked across his face, and causing his eyebrows to knit together. I knew it - I could tell he was thinking, and I knew he'd figure me out - he always did. He knew me to well, and I think that's was scared me most.

I slipped a shirt on over my head that wasn't mine, but rather his, and combed a hand through the tangles that were knotted throughout my auburn hair.

"Listen John, we probably should have talked about it, before just jumping into what we did last night," I paused, and tightly closed my sleepy eyes, with my back still facing him, like a wall that he'd have to eventually break down, "And I'm not saying I regret it - it's just -"

"Just what?"

He placed a cold hand on my bare thigh. I jumped, and my eyes opened, discovering his body clad in an old pair of basketball shorts, sitting leg to leg on the edge of his bed.

"I don't know," I shrugged my shoulders, and my eyes fell from his, "I'm just scared we're rushing into things. I don't want something to happen that we can't ever take back. And I know I sound like a complete idiot right now, but I know what's it like - I know how much it hurts when you lose someone you love -"

"I won't let that happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

He took my hands into his, "I understand you're scared, but baby you've got to trust me. I promise you, nothings going to happen, and if it does, I swear I'll try to make it better. And I know it's hard, but please you've got to trust me on this," he pulled my fingers up to his lips with his hands, and kissed them softly, "I love you, and right now that's all that I can do, is love you - until we get older, and things are settled, then we can have a life together," he looked me dead in the eyes, as he spoke his next words carefully - and thoroughly, "I swear that I will never give up on you."

I believed him - I believed his words - the things that he told me - his promises, and everything in between. I couldn't help but to believe, when I had nothing else to believe in, but him. I felt myself falling more in love with him, and the things he told me - the things he promised we'd have once we got older. All I had to do was keep telling myself what he promised me would matter eventually.

I grabbed his face with my two hands, and pulled his tasteful lips down to cover over my own. He grabbed my hips with his rough fingertips, and lifted me up to turn me around, before dropping me back down into the soft sheets that wrinkled his bed.

He crawled across the covers to let his body linger over top of mine, and I laughed softly at the way his unkept hair was a complete mess on top of his head.

"What's so funny?" He smiled crookedly at me from above, with his elbows puncturing into the mattress on either side of my head, bearing his weight, as I reached out to lightly touch the ends of his soft hair with my fingertips.

I shook my head, and whispered a short, "nothing," into the quiet morning air. I let him kiss my neck softly, and I let him hold my body closely. I let him run his fingers through my hair, and I let him talk to me about things that would matter eventually.

I lost all reason to care about anything else, because all I wanted was him - and for whatever reason I thought he was all that I would ever need in my life.

**

"Listen Ken could you pull around the truck for me please," I fished around for the keys in John's back pocket, as he leaned limp against my small self, "Here're the keys."

I tossed them in his direction, and watched him catch them mid-air, "Sure thing."

And as he trailed down the street to retrieve Johns truck from the rest of the cars, I turned my attention back to the dazed boy who had a sloppy smirk on his bitter lips, and breath that reeked of booze.

Two weeks after he'd practically promised me the world - the morning after he'd given me everything, and swore to me that things would somehow fall into place - that things would get better, and to place my trust into his hands - I couldn't help but to think that this was some kind of game to him.

He leaned a little further - a little deeper into my side, with his lips trying to find there way to my own, before I stopped his mouth from gaining any closer by pushing his face away with my palm.

He whined, and poked out his bottom lip, putting a pout on his sour lips, "C' mon baby - why can't I kiss you?"

I didn't reply to his drunken slurs. I was frustrated, and upset, and I tried to hide the frown on my mouth as I spotted Kennedy from the front lawn, and drug John along side of me as we made a path to his truck.

And after he climbed in, and I shut the door with a slam behind him, I could feel the exhaustion run through my veins, as I let out a heavy sigh. I turned on the heels of my tattered shoes, wipping the auburn hairs from my face as I found myself looking on towards Kennedy, who was twirling the keys around his pointer finger.

"You sure you're going to be alright?" He handed me the keys, and I took them from his hold as I shook my head meekly in response.

"Is it always going to be this way?" I looked up into his hazel eyes, waiting for him to tell me it wouldn't be - to lie and tell me this was just a phase that John would eventually grow out of as we aged - but nothing was ever that sweet. I knew John, and nothing was ever just a phase - nothing that was something this severe.

He shrugged his shoulders, and looked around as he spoke into the crisp summers air, "I'm not sure Lee."

I watched him rake a shaky hand through his brown hair, and his hazel eyes wonder back to mine.

He leaned forward, and pressed his lips to my forehead. And for a moment I lost my voice, and I forgot how to breath - and I couldn't figured out why. He grabbed my arm, with his fingers, and squeezed it lightly to regain my attention that he had no idea he'd lost. His tired eyes peered deep into mine as he spoke softly, "Everything's going to be alright. I promise you that."

But that was just another promise in my book - one that I didn't take too seriously at the time. But I nodded my head meekly anyways, and felt his lanky arms pull me into a hug that I wasn't expecting - and that I wasn't even sure if I should follow through with. But with the softness of his shirt, and the scent of his cologne soaking up my senses I found myself falling into him.

And when his arms fell from around my body, he took a few steps back, and stuffed his hands inside his pockets, casting a shy smile in my direction, as I tried to shake the feeling that was causing butterflies to flutter their wings inside my stomach.

I felt light headed - I couldn't think, and that freaked me out. My blue eyes looked down, and I turned away to walk to the other side of the truck, climbing into the seat behind the wheel, next to the boy who was starring off into an infinite space ahead.

On impulse I leaned over, and kissed the side of his face, his skin warm against my pink lips, before placing the key into the ignition, and hearing the hum of the trucks engine. I could feel his droopy green eyes burning into my face, but I fought the urge to look back, and I fought the urge to look at Kennedy who watched us drive off from where he stood in the dark.

I was questioning my thoughts - my feelings - and I wasn't even sure why. I felt the sadness burn my eyes, and a pain sting my heart as the stress of being in a relationship that was beginning to become bumpy along it's road was somehow taking over.

And after making it home, and somehow sneaking a clumsy John up to the secluded walls of his bedroom, and out of sight of anyone, including his parents, I somehow felt like there was more weight on my shoulders now than before.

I turned to him, and watched him kick off his shoes from his feet, before he fell back onto his bed, and patted his hand against the mattress as his heavy green eyes found mine from where I stood by the door.

I didn't want to, but the look that he was giving me told me I probably should. So I did - I turned out the lights, and let the little bit of glow that was shining through the window from street lights outside lead me closer towards him. I carefully crawled up next to him - atop the blankets - and let my head sink into the soft pillow, watching everything around me turn black when I closed my eyes, and reopened them when I felt a pair of familiar fingers lightly brush across my face.

"What's wrong?"

His face was so close to mine that I could smell the alcohol as it rolled off his tongue, and hit my melting skin when he spoke.

I grabbed his hand that was still stroking my face, and pulled it away until it was no longer against my skin. The smile was fading from his mouth, but I knew he knew that there was no point in talking it out now.

"It's late. Go to sleep, okay?" I whispered softly, and closed my eyes to block out the world, and put my mind to rest.

I felt his lips kiss my forehead, the same place Kennedy had placed his lips on my skin that same evening. I shuttered at the feeling, but ignored the tremors that sent shivers through my body, and tried to forget everything that mattered, as I searched for an endless sleep that would never find me.

***

So maybe this wasn't where I should be.

My head was still pounding against my skull, and I was quickly regretting my decision of coming to this stupid gig that the boys had at the Marquee Theater tonight. It was over, and it was done, but an hour and a half later the fans were still mingling in the streets where the guys stood with wide smiles, and sharpies between their fingertips, ready and willing to sign anything that was shoved in their faces.

I kept my distance from the crowd - the group of young girls, and stood across the street, leaning my back against a brick wall as I pulled the white stick that sat between my fingers from my pink lips, and exhaled the gray smoke from my lungs. The only reason I came was for the drinks that came after the show. The bar hopping, and the liquor that was in my mind, way over due. I closed my eyes, and listened to the city sirens, and car engines pass me by, before fading in the far off distance.

But when I opened my sticky blue eyes back up, I was met with a familiar face staring back with a simple smile, watching him take a few more steps closer to me.

"Hey." I breathed out, and dropped the white stick to the grimy cement, before meshing it into the ground with the heal of my sandal.

"Hey," he came closer until he stood next to me, with his back leaning against the same brick wall, and his hands tucked into his pockets, "You feeling alright? You haven't really said very much tonight."

I looked up at him with the turn of my head, and caught his hazel eyes gazing into mine. I smiled softly, trying to hide the pain that was tattooed across my skin, and bones. I nodded my head faintly, and shrugged lightly, "I'm fine - I'm just tired, I guess."

He nodded his head, and looked away, not believing my pathetic attempt of making up excuses.

"You did really good tonight...by the way." I blurted the words out, and watched him laugh at me softy, with a wide grin set on his lips as he turned his attention back to me.

"Thanks," he looked at me for a moment with a soft smile pulling on his mouth, and his hazel eyes burning into the skin across my face, like he wanted to say something more, but didn't know how, "So you ready to get out of here, and go get some drinks?"

He held out his hand, and I hardly hesitated as I place mine in his, feeling the warmth of his skin touch mine.

"Sure." I whispered softly beneath my breath, and tried to hide the smile - the happiness that was dying to burst from the seams, and float straight out of me. But I seemed to lose the magical feeling, and it all seemed to sink back inside my skin when I looked up from my mobile feet, and found a pair of sunken green eyes tearing straight through my existence from nearby.

And the closer we got to the group of guys, the tighter my hand clutched onto Kennedy's for some sort of support that wasnt really there. I seemed to stick out like a sore thumb, mingled within a group of boys, in which all seemed to sense the tension that thickened the air surrounding us.

We walked to the bar - the group of us, since it was only a block away from the venue. I kept my pace slow to stray away from the rest of the crowd - to avoid the small talk, and little conversations that everyone shared amongst themselves.

I felt awkward, and out of place, when I really shouldn't have. These weren't strangers - if anything they used to be some of my closest friends - people that I spent countless summers, holidays, and birthdays with. But no matter how loud my words seemed to be - no one was listening - no one was paying attention - and no one cared enough to try and help me fight the emptiness that was corroding my body from the inside, out.

*

I downed another shot of liquor from the tiny glass, and scrunched my face into wrinkles at the disgusting taste it left on my tongue. I couldn't remember if it was my fourth or fifth shot, and I didn't give a fuck, all I could feel was the loneliness - the emptiness - the entire reason why I was sitting on that bar stool with a shot glass between my soft fingertips....hewas the reason I could no longer remember.

"You know you're going to kill yourself with all of that liquor."

I rolled my droopy gray eyes, and scoffed at his stupid attempt at showing some sort of sympathy towards me.

"Good. Then maybe I won't be such a bother to everyone," I spat.

I watched him place a seat on the bar stool next to me from the corner of my scratchy eyes, ordering some drink from the bartender that I couldn't quite make out with my listening ears. I ordered another drink as well, and watched a smirk pull on the ends of his thin lips at the way I demandingly insisted on something strong, and sweet.

"I don't think I've ever seen you drink this much." He laughed softly, like he was enjoying the show of me wallowing in my own self pity.

"Yeah, well I blame you O'Callaghan," I drunkenly slurred, and watched the glass of rum slide it's way in front of where I patiently awaited, "Don't you have somewhere else to be - like with friends - or fucking some chick , or some stupid shit that I don't care about." I chugged down a part of my drink, like I was some old pro, knowing how to handle my liquor - but I wasn't - I was just a fucking wreck - a fucking loner who hadn't had a decent drink in god knows how long.

I could feel his green eyes smirking as they sunk into my skin when I slammed the drink back down onto the counter rather harshly, and wiped the bitter taste from my mouth with the back of my palm.

"I'm not in the mood," he pulled the bottle to his tasteful lips, taking a swig of his beer, and carelessly shrugging his shoulders, "I promised Gare, and the rest of the guys that I'd keep you company, since you seem to have no friends."

"God, I'm such a lucky girl." I rolled my eyes, and snickered at his degrading choice of words.

"I volunteered."

"Since when do you volunteer?"

"Since the day I met you." He smiled conceitedly, and pulled out his wallet to pay the tab for our drinks, including my half dozen. I scoffed bitterly at his sarcastic remark, and finished chugging the rest of the rum that outlined my glass, down into my raw throat. I licked my salty lips, collecting all bitterness, and everything in between, before pushing my limp body from the bar stool, attempting to stand up, but shortly realizing I couldn't feel the bones of my own two legs.

I felt a pair of familiar hands grab my waist, scrunching up the fabric of my dress, and stopping my attempts of tumbling to the tiled floor. I grumbled frustratedly, and wiggled - struggled to set myself free from the fingers that were clutching my pink skin through the soft fabric of my sundress.

"I forgot how much of a sloppy drunk you are." He chuckled softly into my ear, his lips so close I could feel his breath hit my neck. I shivered at the feeling.

"No one asked for you to help me." I weakly fought to pry his hands off my waist in a sloppy manner - but I was numb, and weak, and I was only making him laugh at me more.

Once he managed to lead me outside, where the fresh air stirred about, and out of the smoky bar before I was able to cause a scene, he pulled me in deeper - closer as I tried to wonder away.

"If you'd let me help you, I promise I won't be a bither to you after tonight."

I looked up at him through a hazy stare, and watched the pain ripple like waves through his green eyes. I couldn't speak, because I didn't know what to say, so I nodded my head that I held low, and let him steady my feet as we walked to his truck in an unsettling silence, that nearly killed my ears.

The car ride to his apartment was just the same. No one spoke - neither one of us said anything - and I could feel my head spinning with each turn the truck made - the motions causing the alcohol to stir around my insides. I looked at him every once in a while, wanting so badly to brush my fingers through his hair, and tell him just how I really felt - or maybe that was just the liquor talking. But either way I couldn't - I wouldn't - because I was to scared of what he might say back.

I tripped over my feet at least three times, while sluggishly crawling out of his truck as I threw open the door, and heard a muffled laugh seep past John's lips.

I groaned, and grabbed my head at the misrable feeling of the alcohol rushing up to my brain, as I nearly tumbled through the apartment door with John still grasping onto my hips, and my body still leaning into his.

"Wanna beer?" He joked.

I groaned disapprovingly, as I kicked off my sandals by the door, and rolled my sunken eyes at his playful tendencies.

"You know if I wanted to be miserable I would've stayed at the bar."

"I'm sorry I make you miserable." He mumbled between his front teeth, as his fingers continued to claw at my dress with his rough hands, pushing, pulling me till we were in the secluded pale walls of his bedroom.

I stumbled backwards till my legs bent, hitting the edge of his bed, and I fell back into a sitting position. I pulled at my dress, and began picking at the chipped nail polish across my fingertips, while biting the pale skin along my bottom lip with my teeth, "John, do you think I'm pretty?"

He froze - his body stiffened, and I watched him nervously scratch at the hairs along the back of his neck, as he laughed huffily at the uncomfortable question, "Uh what - what do you mean?"

"Do you think I'm attractive," I looked up in a haze, and peered deep into his green eyes that were tearing holes into my procelain face, "I feel like no one ever tells me that anymore. I feel like I'm only good for sex, and that's it."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because no one really loves me - at least no one tells me they do - and the only boy that does, doesn't need my problems in his life, you know? Kenny doesn't need to get involved with my problems -"

"He's already involved." He snickered at the thought.

I sighed with exhaustion, "I wish you'd stop," I pushed myself from his bed with my shaky hands, as my face pulled together in frustration, "I wish you'd let it go. Dammit just for once I'd wish you'd not shut me down - that you would just fucking give me a chance without having to talk about what happened three - four years ago."

I combed my dainty fingers through my auburn hair, and let out an ample breath that I'd been trapping inside my lungs. I stumbled forward a few more steps, falling forward, and collapsing into his body - palms pressed flat against his chest, and his warm breath striking the soft skin across my face as he exhaled through his pink lips.

"Sometimes, I wish you'd tell me you loved me," I whispered softly, and blinked back the tears that were gradually beginning to brim my eyelids, "And sometimes I wish I wasn't so - so stubborn, and so unlikable -"

"You're not unlikable."

I viciously shook my head, squeezing my pale eyes shut, and began balling my hands into fist against his chest, "Yes I am - I am. No one fucking likes me, and I'm alone - I'm alone, and no - nobody fucking cares," the tears were rolling like rivers across my rosy skin as my fist began colliding against the frame of his cheat out of pure frustration, "Even my own father hated me - even he knew I'd be no good. And he was fuckig right -"

I felt John's rough hands wrap around my tiny wrist, with his green eyes anchoring down onto my red scratchy orbs through the waves that rushed through them, "Stop it - dammit Leslie you know you're better than that, so just fucking stop. Your father was a fucking idiot for walking out like he did, but he loved you. I know he did - I know because I did the same fucking thing."

He stopped talking, and the air became silent. His face was flushed, and his breathing was heavy, and his hands were still tightly clasped around my skin. And thats when it all became too much for me to handle. I couldn't fight the urge to hold myself back any longer. I couldn't fight the alcohol that was burning inside of my bones, and I couldn't fight the way that my crimson lips found his with my hands freeing themselves to pull his face down to mine.

I could taste the bitter tang of beer coating his thin lips - with my fingertips pulling softly at the short ends of his hair along the back of his head. But it didn't take much for him to push me off - to push me away - and cause my lips to lose track of his.

"Stop - we can't do this."

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Yes we can - we can -" I leaned back into the depths of his body, and felt his large hands grab hold of my hips.

"No we can't - "

"Why not? Don't you love me? Don't you fucking love me John? You used to - you used to tell me all the time - you used to tell me you wanted to spend your life with me. What happened - what happened to that, huh?"

He grabbed me by the shoulders, and looked me dead in the eyes, and when he did all I could see was a seventeen year old boy trapped inside his body - someone scarred, and lost, and unsure of where this all might be headed.

But when his head fell low, and his hands dropped from my shoulders, without any words leaving his mouth, I continued to stand there unable to speak - unable to move - and still awaiting an answer.

He combed a hand through his sandy locks, as he released a stressful sigh, "Right now you - you've had to much to drink. You're saying things you don't know-"

"That's not true," I seethed through my trebling voice, "You don't have to tell me you love me, okay? All I want is for you to tell me that you care - that's all I want...that's all I ever wanted John, but you were always to busy to realize that."

I took several steps away, and wiped the wet mascara that was running from my lashes, and collecting beneath my eyes.

He never moved, and only stayed quiet from where he stood, watching me - my every step - my every move - as I pulled back the soft sheets of his bed, and crawled beneath the cold blankets, reminding me of nights when I needed him so much closer.

My back was facing him, as my head sunk into the pillow, and I could feel his green eyes on me - I always could - I could always feel when he was around. I couldn't fight the pain that was aching inside my chest, as I hesitated with every breath I took in, and let out. I watched as the walls around me went completely dark, and the lights were turned out by the switch somewhere in the room. Everything was quiet - everything. I couldn't see, but I could hear - and I heard nothing until the bed started to sink from behind me, and I began holding my breath.

It was suddenly hard to breath, and all I wanted was for him to touch me - to hold me - to kiss my skin - to brush his fingers through my hair - and whisper that he loved me inside my ear.

But it never happened, and after a while I was pretty sure he'd left the room - I was sure he didn't stay very long, because the next morning when the sunlight outside lit up the walls, and my half lidded eyes leisurely flooded open, I found his side of the bed to be ice cold, and hardly slept in, with few wrinkles in the sheets.

My body was weak, and I felt like I was dying, with the combination of aching bones, and the pulsation of my brain clashing against my skull. I clutched my forehead with my hand as I sat upright, and squinted my gray eyes to shield them from the bright whites of the sun. My mouth was dry, and my dress was crumpled in wrinkles. I gathered my knotted hair in my hands, and tied it in a loose bun that really held no purpose.

I groaned as I crawled from the warm sheets of his bed, and my body moved from his bedroom out into the kitchen, where I regretted leaving the comforts of his bed entirely.

He was leaning with his weight pressed back against the countertop, and a Starbucks coffee cup cradled within the palm of his hand. His mousy brown hair was nothing but a tousled mess, and his green eyes appeared to be dark, and sunken inside the gray circles that surrounded them.

He heard my feet shuffle against the cold floor, causing his head to raise, and his eyes to catch my scratch red ones.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and looked away - anywhere but his face, and those eyes.

"Do you have any aspirin?"

My voice was rough, and scratchy. He looked at me for a moment, before nodding his head faintly without words spoken, and retrieved the bottle of pain medication from a nearby cabinet.

He handed me the bottle of pills, along with a glass of water to take them with. I tried not to look directly at him as I pulled out the chair from under the kitchen table, and set the glass of water down on its flat surface. I unscrewed the cap, and popped two pills into my mouth, downing them with the water sitting next to me.

I watched him through subtle glances - I watched as he pulled out the chair nearby, placing it close to me - facing me. He took a seat on it's surface, and leaned forward on the edge of his seat, hunched over as his calloused fingers pulled at the ends of his tangled locks, and his rough hands ran across his weary face.

He released a heavy sigh, and looked back up at me, "How'd you sleep?"

I peered away, with my red orbs resembling the feel of sand paper every time I blinked.

"I didn't."

He nodded his head softly, and leaned back into the chair. The air was thick, and the tension was even greater, and all I felt like doing was running away. I could tell he didn't know what to say, and if he did he wasn't sure how to say it.

I sat there, scratching my brain for something to be said - and there seemed to be only one thing sinking like a stone inside my mind. The one thing that I'd been bottling up inside myself - the one thing that I'd promised Garrett I'd take the time to tell John, even if it would cost me everything that I'd been wanting, and hoping for.

I looked up to John who was staring at me in a daze. I leaned forward, and touched his leg with my hand, causing him to flinch at the simple gesture.

"Listen John, I'm sorry about last night. And I'm sorry for wanting something - and bringing up something that I know might be impossible to have after everything that's happened -"

"Leslie -"

"No, you need listen," I closed my eyes, and waved him off, "I need to be honest with you. I need to tell you the truth, and get something off my chest that I've been trying to keep from you after all these years - something that you need to know."

I stopped, and looked at him, and I knew I had his attention when he leaned forward in his seat, and pulled my hand Into his as his green eyes sunk into mine.

I swallowed the lump that growing inside my throat, and took in a deep breath, "About three years ago - right before you guys were about to head out on tour," I closed my eyes to avoid looking into his, as every memory flooded back into my mind, "I - I somehow ended up getting pregnant."

My scratchy eyes opened, and I watched John's entire face drop, like he was hit with a stack of reality. I could see it in his eyes, the fear of something about to come.

"I was young, and I was so scared. I - I didn't know what to do - and I didn't want to tell anyone, because it scared me. I just remember everything about it scared the living hell out of me. I ended up going to the doctor appointments by myself, because I didn't know what people would think, or say if they found out."

I paused to take a breath, and felt my heart crumble into pieces, as I struggled to blink away the tears that were surfacing along my tired eyes.

"I was about eight weeks into the pregnancy," my tearful eyes looked to his, and I whispered softly, "before - I lost it." I bit at my lip to stop the trembling, but it was to late, and I couldn't hold it inside my chest any longer - the pain of losing something so precious - the pain from the look on Johns face as I told him the truth. It was all too much. And the worst part of all I wasn't even sure if it would have been his.

I began explaining how it was at that point in time when I started sleeping with Kennedy, and thats when he cut me off. He dropped my hand from his, and slid his chair back away from me, like he couldn't handle the truth any longer.

He stood up from the chair, and pulled at the ends of his sandy hair viciously with his fingertips as he began pacing the floors in front of me. And it was then that he turned, and looked me dead in the eyes, ready to spit venom.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His jaw was tense, and his entire face was pulled together in anger, and betrayal, "What the fuck did I do to you, for you not to want to tell me?"

"I wanted to tell you John," I pushed myself from the chair to balance the weight on my shaky legs, as I took a step closer towards him, "I wanted to tell you so fucking bad. Do you not realize how fucking hard it was for me not to? - But the fact that it would jeopardize you not going on tour was something I didn't want to face! I didn't want to be the reason you'd stay - I didn't want to have to face that guilt, okay?"

I wiped the stream of tears from my face, and stood there with my heart hurting in more pain than it had before.

"Does Kenny know?"

I shook me head softly, "No - I thought you should know first." I whispered, with my blue eyes falling from his in thought.

"Why would I have to know first? It's not like there's anything to know - fuck Lee" he grabbed at his hair, as he let out a heavy breath, and began pacing the cold marble floor, "it doesn't matter. Do you not understand that it doesn't fucking matter anymore."

He turned, and looked at me with his green eyes brimmed with sadness, and a hint of regret, "I just wish I could've been there when it all happened - when everything fell apart."

I felt myself crumble into peices, and I stepped a little closer, pointing my finger in his face, "You're wrong it does matter. Everything about those eight weeks when you weren't around mattered. But you stopped caring the day you packed your bags, and left for tour," I ran a hand through my hair, "I mean do you really think it would've changed things if I'd told you, because I don't. I think we both know you would've run from any chances of having a life with me, and not with your music."

And that's when I left. With tears rolling across my cheeks, I grabbed my bag, and sandals from by the door, and I left. I left him standing in the kitchen with his head held low - with his heart in pain - with a feeling that he'd lost his chances - and his long fingers stuck in his tangled hair, with the past being thrown in his face.

I dug through my bag, as my feet carried me further away from him, further from his apartment, and further from the building that I had escaped.

My unsteady fingers pressed the buttons on the device that I cradled in my palm. I couldn't see, and I couldn't think. All I could hear was the constant hustle of traffic that wized past me on the streets nearby. And then I heard his voice on the other side of the phoneline. It was soft, but it sounded like a wave of worry was passing through it, when it heard mine.

I choked back the lump in my throat, and wiped the salt water from the pink skin across my face, as I tried to firgure out where I was standing from the surrounding street signs, "Ken - can you come pick me up, please? - I really need you right now."