Carry On

I didn't remember anything when I woke up, except that I was starving. I rolled over, only to realize I was on the floor. I groaned, sitting up and looking around. Jimmy was asleep on the couch, Zack was no where to be found, and Johnny was playing Call of Duty. I looked around, remembering that I was at Zack's but couldn't remember why. I almost thought that maybe Dad picking me up from the beach was a dream, or a nightmare, "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Johnny sang, his eyes not coming off the screen.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's only five in the evening. We shut all the windows and blinds for you," He said and I only raised my eyebrow in question, looking around at the darkened room. What the hell was going on?

"What the fuck happened? Did I die?" I asked, my body feeling achy and groggy.

Johnny scoffed, "You fucked up big time, Liza. But we've decided to not tell your dad or Matt. But, damn, are you gonna hear it from Zack," He smiled.

"Well that doesn't help me," I grumbled, "Is there any food?"

"Pizza and Orange Chicken, just as her highness requested. You know, you're a pain in the ass when you're high," He said and I froze.

All at once I remembered everything. The floor wrapped around me, the couch suffocating me, Jimmy carrying me. I remembered their conversations and how desperate I was to just go to sleep. I vaguely remember Zack attempting to get me to drink water. I wanted to die. Michael had confused my order for someone else's, and it had fucked me over. I was going to bring hell with me the next time I saw him. That is if Zack let's me out of his house alive.

I got up without another word and walked into the kitchen. As promised, there was a large pizza with pepperoni and extra cheese, along with three cartons of Orange Chicken from Hong Kong Express down the street. It was cold and some of it was already eaten, so I grabbed a plate from the cabinet and loaded it with three slices of pizza and topped it with four spoonfuls of orange chicken. I set it in the microwave and waited. I was so hungry I swore my insides were going to rip inside of me.

When the food was done I grabbed it, also grabbing a fork, and turned around. I jumped from shock, eyes going wide as I saw Zack suddenly standing there in the doorway with his arms over his chest, "This is going to be fun," I muttered

"You are so lucky we're not telling your dad, or worse... Matt," He stated.

I groaned, "I know, I know," I said, hopping on the counter. I grabbed a slice of pizza, shoving it in my mouth. I would say it was the best pizza I had ever eaten in my entire life. When you're high everything tastes so much better.

"Go ahead and eat, but when you're done come upstairs. You know we're going to talk about this," He said and I nodded. He turned around and left without another word, and I knew I was in for it.

Uncle Zack hardly got mad at me ever. And I had done a lot to probably get him mad. I drew on his walls when I was little, destroyed his living room with frosting one time (although I think Jimmy is really the one to blame for that one), and I even broke a window once. I think the only time Uncle Zack got mad at me was when I dropped his guitar, causing the neck to snap in half. He was upset, but eventually apologized for yelling at me because he knew it was an accident.

After helping myself to two more slices of pizza, I cleaned up the kitchen and sighed. Jimmy was still asleep and Johnny was still playing video games. I thought about making a run for it, but Zack would just find me. Unless I were to run to the beach and throw myself over the pier. Who was I kidding, though? Zack may be a little chunky, but he never lost his star athleticism from high school. He was an all-star baseball player that almost went pro. Of course he would catch up to me in time. But that didn't stop me from thinking about running anyways.

Do it.

I shook my head of any voice telling me to do so. Zack yelling at me is a lot better than Matt or Dad. I might as well get it over with. I headed up the stairs, away from the front door, and went meet my fate.

Zack was in the extra room, a guitar on his lap. Soft melodies playing from his fingertips. I walked over timidly. For a second I thought he might chuck the guitar at me, but then I remembered that this was Zack I was facing, and not Dad, "Sit," He said and I sat down next to him on the sofa. I started to play with the hem of my shirt, continuing to listen to the melodic riffs Zack played "Recognize this guitar?" He asked without looking up from his strings, and I looked down, admiring the dark red wood. I always thought Zack's signature guitar was much more beautiful than Dad's. I was often jealous of the fact that I didn't have a Zacky Vengeance guitar, and was stuck with my Dad's. "It's the guitar you broke ten years ago."

"You fixed it?" I asked.

"Of course I fixed it. It's my favorite guitar," He said, shocked that I would even asked such a thing.

"Why didn't you just get a new one?" I asked, "You have ten of the same guitar. So why fix this one?" It was true. Zack and Dad are sponsored by Schecter guitars, and get free remakes of their signature models anytime they asked. Dad once set a guitar on fire for a photoshoot. He had two new ones the next day. It's how Dad got me my guitar today, seeing as he thought it best I play a Synyster Gates guitar than any old Fender from a music store.

"Why?" He asked, "Because it's my favorite. I had this guitar from when Avenged Sevenfold first started out. It's the same guitar I used in Bat Country and Beast and the Harlot. I'll get a hundred more guitars in my lifetime, but this will always be my favorite."

I raised an eyebrow, confused, "Why are you telling me this? Aren't you supposed to be yelling at me right now?" I asked and he sighed. He stopped playing and turned the guitar over on his lap, setting it down flat over his knees. It was then that I saw the back of the guitar, the neck having been put back together but not without a large crack still noticeable. A scar.

"Because just like this is my favorite guitar, you're my favorite niece," He said.

I'm not even your niece.

"Yeah, I have nephews and a niece from my sister's side of the family, but you've always been my favorite. Like this guitar, I grew with you. I remember the day you were born," He smiled, "Val called us in a frantic, because we were playing a show. We were only seventeen, and none of us thought we were ready for it. Hell, your Dad was freaking out for nine whole months before that.

"We skipped out on the show and went to the hospital. I was allowed inside with Val, because Brian had already decided that I would be your godfather... Matt was pissed for weeks because of it," He laughed, "But I remember when I held you. You were so tiny, and I had never really held a baby before. I remember Brian freaking out over how to hold you correctly and making sure I wouldn't drop you.

"And when you got older I helped look after you. I played with you, and took you out for ice cream when your parents were fighting. I protected you from the monsters in your closet because Brian had no idea what to do to get you to stop crying.

"So like this guitar, we have a lot of memories. And when I got this guitar, I never thought I would have an eight year old break it. I thought it would be whole forever. So when I looked at you, I never thought this would happen. I never thought you would be arguing with Brian, or doing this shit."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I can't sleep," I started, "And sometimes I smoke when I need to sleep. I was just so tired. And, it got mixed up. I didn't get the right one."

He shrugged, "But you could have done other things, you understand that right?" He asked, "You could have come to us, telling us you have trouble sleeping and we could have done something healthier and less dangerous."

"Really? Because Dad and Matt smoke all the time. It obviously can't be that dangerous," I glared and he sighed.

"What your dad and Matt do is irrelevant to you, Liza, because they don't have their entire future in front of them. They're in a band, they make money. They don't have to worry about colleges or applications. It's very different from you. They don't want you to have to smoke, Liza. Don't you understand that?" He asked, "We don't want you doing this shit because we know it's bad. It may be too late for us. We're almost in our forties for fuck's sake. But we're not going to watch you go down that path."

I sighed and he put a hand on mine, "I know something is going on with you, Liza. But god-dammit," He paused, taking a deep breath, "I won't let you ruin this family because of it. Doing shit like this only makes things worse. Think about everyone else."

Why should I?
"Why should I?" I repeated and his eyes widened, "It's my life, not theirs. Why should I care?"

"You're really selfish, you know that?" He scoffed, removing his hand from mine, "You've had everything handed to you your entire life. Your dad worked for everything he's had... Everything you've had. You know there are kids who have it far worse, and you don't seem to care."

That doesn't help me.

"You have some growing up to do, Liz. And you need to do it soon, because you're almost an adult. You need to start acting like one."

Life isn't short enough.