About a Girl

It has been a week since I first met the guys and what a week it has been. We were once again all cramped in the small stink-fest van and I had my head resting against the center console again. They all thought it was weird of me to want to rest on the floor, but I found it comfortable. I tried to explain how small spaces gave me a sense of security and that it was warmer down there too. After a moment of awkward stares they realized that I was serious and left me alone about it.

Alex was currently driving and our destination was New York, New York. The tour had ended in Pasadena, California and we were gonna be staying in with a friend in New York for a little while the guys worked on getting me the necessary papers for leaving the country. I felt like a fucking outlaw. The bright green numbers on the radio read 3:10 am, the witching hour as my dad would say. I laid my head on top of my hands and smiled at the thought of my dad. He always got me into the weird things in life.

My mind went off back to the dream that I had in the motel. Back to what my mom was saying about my dad. My dad was far from perfect, but he was the only one in my family, besides my grandparents, that I gave a shit about. Sure he was a fuck up in life, but my love for him looked over all the bad shit he did. He wasn't even supposed to be my real dad.

When I was conceived my mother had been sleeping with another guy while she slept with my dad. This actually caused my dad to try and commit suicide. Two bottles of sleeping pills and vodka landed him in the metal ward for a day and was deemed crazy by my mom's whole family and I still didn't fault him. When she found out she was pregnant there were two possible candidates for the father. My father and a dick named Robert.

When I was born my mom left my dad for Robert because she believed he was my father. When I was born my mom had Robert hold me and I cried endlessly in his arms. When she took me back into her arms I stopped crying. For six months my mom stayed with Robert and each time he would try to hold me I'd cry till someone else took me from him or till he put me down. After the sixth month my mom finally gave my dad the option to visit me and he jumped at the chance. This was my dad's favorite story to tell me when I was growing up.

He'd always start with how I was a baby who'd never let anyone come near me with a ten feet pole. Then he'd move on to how I was peacefully asleep in my crib as he looked over me like I was the most precious thing in the world. Then he would gently reach down and lift me up ever so carefully as if I was a glass doll. After a moment in his arms my eyes would flutter open and I'd look up at him with big doe eyes. He was scared that I would reject him, that I would cry in his arms, but I did something my mom dreaded; I smiled. My little hand grabbed onto his meaty index finger and I pulled it close to me and snuggled against it. From that moment on he knew I was his daughter and I knew he was my dad. He never even asked for a blood test.

Since then my mom resented me for choosing my dad over her boyfriend. After a two more months of dating Robert she left him and got back together with my dad. I never knew the real reason why my mom left Robert. Was it because she still loved my dad in some fucked up way? Did she do it to make things easier for me growing up with my real dad, but then that would indicate that she cared about me. I shook my head and buried my head between my hands as I brought my knees to my chest.

Or maybe she took him back to make her life easier. She couldn't cook, he did. She didn't have a job, he did. She lived with her mother, he had his own apartment. Maybe she was using him to make her own life easier. But then how would that explain why she stayed with him for 18 years if she didn't love him.

Do you not remember all the times he left us. All the times he hurt me.

The words ricocheted in my head like a bullet. Like I said before, my dad was far from perfect. He had anger issues, was violent, and a bit of a jackass. When things got bad between him and mom, he'd pack up for a week and leave. But he'd always come back in tears saying he couldn't imagine living out with his daughter and son. When things got worse, things became physical. But that only happened three times.

All his faults caused people to think of him as a bad man. I still have memories of being six years old and listening to my aunts and uncles say how my dad was a criminal and my mom was an idiot for staying with him, but I never understood them. That was until I was eight. It was one of those times where my parents were separated and they had an agreement of sharing my brother and I. One week I stayed with my mom and the next week I stayed with my dad. And they would switch off between my brother and I.

One particular week I decided to be a little shit and complained that I no longer wanted to live with my mom and I just wanted to stay with my dad and only my dad. Weird how a statement from an eight year old could lead their dad to a police car. My dad said that if I wanted to stay then I should be allowed to stay, but my mom disagreed and said that I had to go home with her. They started yelling, my mom pushed my dad, my dad slapped her, next thing I knew I was in the corner crying my eyes out.

I don't remember the end of the fight, or even how I ended up in my aunts arms looking at my dad through the window of the police car. I do remember how my aunt was screaming at my dad calling him a 'bad, bad man'. Guess she was trying to keep her language G-Rated. I remember the faint wail of my mother's sobs as she explained what happened to an officer. I also remember pushing myself out of my aunts arms and walking towards the police car. I was barely tall enough to look over the window and see my dad. He stared at me and reached out his handcuffed hands and placed them on the window. I placed my small hands next to his. His eyes were full of guilt. Guilt for leaving me again, not for hitting my mom.

I felt that I should have hated him. Despised him for being abusive and follow my aunts actions and call him a 'bad, bad man.' But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to turn away from him, walk away, and hate him like my family did. Instead I tried opening the car door so I could hug him. That's when one of the officers picked me up and carried me over to grandma who was there for emotional support. After that day there's always been a weird feeling between me and the rest of my family. They wondered how I could love a monster and still be related to them, but I chose to ignore them. I had my dad to love and that's all I needed.

Am I bad for loving a monster? I really don't know, but isn't that how love is. You don't know what it is or if it's good or bad, but you still want it.

"Hey, wake up." I opened my eyes to see Erik grinning down at me. Did I really just have a therapy session in my dreams? "C'mon on Astro Chelsea, we're here." I looked up to see him still grinning down at me. I meekly nodded my head and got out of the van. I took in my surroundings and saw we in front of a apartment type complex that screamed New York.

The building was a dirty brown and window after window covered the front of the building. It was quite amazing to me. New York is one of the five cities that I've always wanted to visit. The other four are Venice in California, London, England, Helsinki, Finland, and Tokyo, Japan.

"Are you gonna just stand there or are you coming in?" I was snapped out of my thoughts to see Erik pulling at my arm while the others were already walking in the building. "Are you okay?" Erik asked concerned.

"Uh, yeah, just tired." I was more lost than tired, but what was I lost about?

"Well, you can sleep when we get inside," he smiled at me. I nodded my head and we quickly caught up to the others. We all walked up a narrow black staircase. I tried to keep count of how many floors we went up, but kept losing count because I was trying to focus on the sounds that came from the building. I could hear the faint sound of pop music. I think it was something like Beyonce or one of those singers. I never really could tell the difference between them. Then I could hear talking. Casual talk. Like what's on TV or how's the weather. I felt weird trying to listen to others conversations, but my mind kept drifting off and it was all I could hear.

"Hey man, it's great to see all of you again," I heard an unfamiliar voice speak out. They had a Swedish accent like the guys. I looked up to see who was talking, but Bo's broad back blocked my vision. Erik laughed at my vain attempts of trying to look over Bo's back and just pulled me forward as whoever opened the door was letting the others in. I kept my head down as I walked past the mysterious stranger. I realized that I haven't taken any pills so my nerves were on edge. I wonder if I could smoke in the building. "Who's this?" I was snapped out of my thoughts to see the stranger pointing at me.

He reminded me a lot of the guys. Long black hair that reached his shoulders, black clothes, a lip piercing, blue eyes, and a few tattoos peeking out from under his shirt. Was it an unspoken rule for all Swedish guys to look like this?

"Krist," Erik said he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, "please meet our new bass palyer and friend, Chelsea. Chelsea, meet Emil and I's cousin, Krist." Krist reached out to shake hands and I shakily grabbed it. It's not that he was intimidating, I just never did good with meeting new people.

"Well, I was just heading off to work so make yourselves comfortable. I'll be back at around eight," Krist spoke as he made his way out the door. What time is it I wondered?

"11 am," Erik said.

"Huh?" I said confused.

"You asked what time it was." He looked at me weirdly. Shit, I said that out loud. "You want to take that nap now?" he asked me.

"Uh, yeah." I shook my head and brought my hand up to scratch it. That damn dream is getting to me. Maybe I'm just thinking too much. Yeah, that's it. Since the tour is over my focus is no longer on shows, but on what's to happen now . I'm still stuck on the past and I need to move on. I need to realize that the past is no longer relevant to me. It's nothing but a bad memory that I have to let go of.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I didn't even realize we were walking. I didn't notice the room Erik led me to. And I didn't even notice when he took off my shoes and laid me in the bed.

"Yeah." I scratched my head again and yawned. He looked at me like he didn't believe me. I knew he wanted me to explain what's on my mind, but I wasn't ready to be so open with him, or any of them. At least, not yet. When he saw that I wasn't sharing any time soon he gave me a small smile and began to leave.

I don't know why, but all of the sudden I didn't want to be alone. "Erik," my voice came out softer that I expected, but he still heard me. He turned around and looked at me. "C-could y-you lay w-with me." I mentally slapped myself for stuttering so much. "Just until I-I f-fall asleep," I quickly added. He just smiled at me and made his way towards the bed.

I moved over to make room for him and he laid down next to me. He grabbed a blanket that had been at the end of the bed and placed it over us making sure I was completely covered. I immediately regretted my decision of asking Erik to lay with me when I felt my body tense beside him. Why I'm I such an idiot?

"You know you can tell me anything, right." Erik was laying on his side as he stared at me.

"Alex keeps reminding me," I mumbled.

"I didn't say Alex," Erik countered.

I knew that I could tell them anything. They made sure to remind me that everyday, but I didn't know if I could trust them completely yet. I didn't know if I could trust myself to be open with them. What's if I said something and offended them. Or what if they judged me for my past. I know Alex said that they would never judge me, but I've been judged all my life.

Ridiculed made to feel miniscule.

I laughed inwardly at my stupid habit to relate lyrics to my own life. It's hard to let old habits die, especially ones that I've used to avoid others from judging me.

I felt a hand on my cheek. "You look funny when you zone out," Erik laughed. His hand was warm against my cheek. I didn't even realize how cold I was. "Sleep," he mumbled as his lips made contact with my forehead. He pulled me so my back was against his chest. One hand was lazily resting over my waist as the other brushed my hair from my head. I could feel his warm breath brush against the back of my neck. It's been awhile since someone held me like this. Finally deciding that I was tired and that I should stop thinking, I let Erik's breathing and heartbeat against my back lure me to sleep.