Welcome to Paradise

I probably just made the biggest mistake of my life. But theres no going back now. When I got back to Micheal's I had to fight myself for picking up the phone and wanting to hear his voice. I wanted it so bad that I started crying, I just sat on the couch crying. Mike didn't try to comfort me, I didn't know if it was because he was still mad or just out of respect. Either way I didn't mind. After a while it died down and I grabbed the phone, telling myself it was just in case he might call. I locked myself in my room and curled up on the center of the bed, cradling the phone against me. I found myself dialing the number to the apartment.

"Laney?" Billie whispered.

Fresh tears streaming down my face, I sobbed silently, but I knew he could hear.

"I forgive you Laney. Come home. We'll act like nothing ever happened," he sounded so optimistic.

I wanted to come home. I wanted to so bad. But could I? I couldn't. I stayed silent on my end and let him talk. It was comforting.

"Laney? Fine. Don't say anything. I will. I love you. And I will do anything to prove it to you. I'll quit the band." I finally found my words.

"You won't." Was all I could muster. But it was enough.

We spent the next ten minutes in utter silence, but it was a perfect silence, filled with all the things we were too hurt to say. But they were understood and that was all that mattered. After a while we hung up, I felt a little better, and I didn't regret not saying anything. I put the phone on the night stand and wiped the tears from my face, they were drying and itchy. I rubbed my sleeve under my nose and sniffled, then pulled the covers down and curled up in side them. It hurt a little to know that Billie had slept in this very bed with me, the same bed he told me that it was only a one time thing, the same bed that Tre had shared with us....

Then I found myself thinking of home. Well, in a sense. My mom and dad, but mostly dad. He was always there, the tall, strong building in everyone's lives. If anything, anything happened, friend or not, he'd help you. He'd take us for ice cream after church on Sunday's, play with me when no one else would. Mom was never that nice, and when dad... died... she got worse. Always nagging me, telling me I looked like a whore in my tattered jeans and band tee's, that I wore too much make up, that no one would ever love me. Well guess what mom? Someone does. And no one loves you. After all the harsh things she'd say, I'd started wearing what everyone else was wearing, I threw out all my make up, I became the average girl.

Somewhere along the way I found myself again though. I think it was that night at Gilman, to be honest. My apartment ransacked and my most loved thing stolen. I decided not to take anyone else's shit after that, I think. But then Billie came along. He loved me, left me, then loved me again. This time, I did the leaving. The stupid, selfish leaving. But now I had to lay in the mess I'd made. We made.