Carry On

By noon Amanda and Alicia had texted me, asking if everything was okay. They were worried since I didn't go to the senior greet last night and I wasn't at school. I let them know I was fine, even if I really wasn't. Dad had decided that it was time for us to head home.

Besides, I really wanted to get out of my black and bloody dress, and I'm sure Dad wanted to change as well. Despite my protests, Matt carried me to the car. I was still woozy and wasn't walking completely straight, due to my headache. He lifted me with ease and I let myself relax as he set me in the passenger's seat of Dad's car.

"Val went ahead and moved some of your stuff to the guest room. Just until I get someone down here to clean up the floor in your room," Dad said softly.

Since our talk, Dad's been acting a lot nicer. He's been careful not to speak too loudly, and speaking sincere when addressing me. When he stopped the car he got out and I unbuckled myself, opening the door. I threw two feet out, but he stopped me, "Woah, you're still a little lightheaded," He said and he lifted me up, just like Matt did. He ignored looks from the neighbors out and about, already whispering about my bandaged arm. No doubt they heard my screams from the previous night. He even managed to hold me with one arm as he shut the door and locked the car. He then opened the front door and shut it with his foot.

"Can you just put me on the couch? I don't want to go upstairs," I said softly and he stopped in the living room.

"Are you sure? The guest bedroom is all ready for you," He reminded me.

I shook my head, "Couch is fine." He set me down as softly as he could on the couch. He was sure to grab me the blanket off my bed, even though I could tell he was hesitant to go into my room. He also got my pillow and my computer, just in case. By the time I was completely settled the sun was starting to fall.

"You feel like anything for dinner?" He asked.

"You haven't been grocery shopping in a week, Dad," I reminded him and he shrugged.

"I know. I could pick up Chinese. Or maybe pizza?" He questioned.

"You can pick. I'll eat what ever. Just no spaghetti," I stated and he raised an eyebrow, "I hate spaghetti, Dad," I reminded him and I saw something flash across his eyes before he nodded.

"Okay. And I called the school. I told them you were sick. They went ahead and email your assignments for today and tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I questioned.

"I want you to stay home tomorrow. Just take it easy for a while. Your arm will heal a little more so it won't look so suspicious," He mentioned and I nodded, too tired to argue. He turned on the television and sat down beside me as he thought about what to get for dinner.

After sitting in silence, Dad finally decided with Chinese. Orange Chicken for me, Kung Pow for him. He knew I wasn't going to be very hungry, so he skipped out on the egg rolls and just got a side of chow mien. It felt like an hour before he finally said something, "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"You're my father. I don't see why not," I shrugged, using my chopsticks to scoop a piece of chicken in my mouth.

"And you'll give me an honest answer?" He added, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Sure," I agreed and he put his small takeout box down.

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to fly out to see your mom?" He asked and I looked down at my food, suddenly uninterested. My appetite gone.

"I just... The last time I was her was when I was twelve. I figured it would be nice to see her before I go to college," I said.

"By yourself?"

"We both know Mom doesn't really want you there," I gave him a look and he nodded sadly, and I almost felt bad for him. "Dad, it has nothing to do with you, if that's what you thought..."

"Your mom left us, Liza," He interjected, eyes directed towards his sock-clad feet, "I raised you. I did everything I could to balance my job and you, because I didn't have her to help me anymore. And," He sighed, "You're my daughter, Liza. Not hers."

"She's still my mom, Dad. You can't change that."

"She's the mother who was never there for you. The same mother who you speak to once every couple of months."

"Dad, just because you have issues with her... Doesn't mean I have to, too," I stated and his arms tensed. I could see his knuckles start to whiten and I cringed as I thought he would burst into a fit of screams.

Instead, he took in a deep breath before looking at me, "If you still want to go in a couple of weeks, then we'll talk about it. But I won't put anything set in stone right now," He stated and I nodded. Dad got up and walked to me, placing a kiss upon my head, "Don't stay up too late," He said and I nodded again as I watched him clean up our food before he retired upstairs.

I turned the television to the lowest volume without it being completely silent before getting comfortable on my right side. I usually slept either on my left side or on my stomach with my left arm tucked underneath my head. Seeing as my arm was still sore and bleeding at times, I decided that wasn't the best idea. I let my eyes slowly drift as I began to slip away.

And even through all of the commotion and fuss, I still wished I wouldn't ever wake up.

-

When I went to move in the morning my entire body went ridged. I had a terrible pain in my neck, and I felt stiff. Still, I managed to turn my head the slightest to look around. I was shocked to see Dad on the floor, a pillow tucked underneath his head and a blanket sprawled across him, "Dad?" I said quietly. He liked to sleep in. I tried not to bother him before ten unless he had to take me to school, but god dammit I couldn't even move. "Dad?" I called a little louder and his head snapped over to me, sitting straight up, sleep removed from his face.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked frantically

"I need aspirin. I can't move," I said and he got up quickly and moved to my side.

"What do you mean you can't move?" He asked when he reached me, placing a hand on my shoulder softly.

"I slept wrong and now I hurt. Can I just get some aspirin?" I asked and he nodded, yawning as he made his way to the kitchen before coming back. He handed me the pills, which I took with a glass of water.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Fine," I muttered.

"The arm?" He questioned hesitantly.

It was then that I realized how bad it really did hurt. The pain was starting to sit in. My entire limb was sore and heavy, but the burning from the cut was even more noticeable, "It burns," I answered and he nodded, walking off again. I heard him opening and closing drawers in our downstairs bathroom before he came back. He sat down on the floor, gingerly taking my arm and starting to unwrap it.

I watched his face as he did so. He cringed a little, not wanting to look at it really. I saw it too. The two large gashes that laced my wrist. The end of the first cut was starting to heal. It was the start of the second cut, where I had jabbed the knife into my skin, that was red and blotchy. You could also see the small swipes where the blade ran off my skin, courtesy of my little tussle with Matt as he tried to get the blade away from me.

I continued to watch as he rubbed a cool lotion over the cut, making my arm chill. He wrapped it again before he started to pick the used bandages up off the floor, "Dad?"

"Hm,"

"Why were you on the floor this morning?" I asked and he stopped, his body once again tensing.

"I didn't want to be upstairs. I wanted to be closer to you," He was silent for a moment before he started to pick up the bandages again, cleaning up the living room. Dad hardly cleaned anything. If we didn't just leave it there, I would eventually clean it. He was being very cautious with me, and I wasn't sure if I liked it, "Um... I have to go into the studio today. I want you to come with me."

"Why? I'm fine here," I stated and he shook his head.

"The last time you were home alone you almost died," He said and stopped. I looked at him with wide eyes as I comprehended what he had just said, "I'm sorry..." He whispered softly, pain in his eyes, "Do you need help going up the stairs? You need to get ready."

"I'll be fine."

"Um... I'm going to get someone in here today to try and clean up while we're gone," He said and I nodded.

I left him at the bottom of the stairs, taking slow steps up. My aspirin was working, but my body was still stiff from my night on the couch. When I got to the hallway I realized that my door was almost closed. Dad had shut it as far as it could possibly go. It wouldn't shut all the way due to the lock being broken from when Matt burst through the door. I sighed, pushing it open and stepping inside.

It was a lot more gruesome than I had expected. I didn't think there would be that much of a mess. The window had been opened, probably because Dad didn't want the smell of my blood lingering on the walls. My desk was a mess. Papers everywhere, the drawers pulled open. My floor was littered with crumpled papers and the empty box of blades. There was ten extra when I left, but Dad must have removed them upon my arrive back home.

There, just a few feet from my desk, was the blood. It wasn't at all like the movies. It was more of a dark red, almost brown as it had dried. Pretty soon it would just be black. There were spots littered on the floor, dripping outside the largest stain. Probably from when Matt pulled the knife out of my hand.

I shut my door and ignored everything. It shouldn't bother me. I walked to my closet and opened it, seeing my bloodied concert dress on the floor. I kicked it aside and searched for something to wear. I grabbed a pair of dark washed jeans and a simple baggy v-neck with a skull design on the front. I slipped on my black ankle boots and grabbed a jacket. I figured I should put some makeup on at least. I fixed my face a bit before tossing my hair over one side, running a brush through it. It would have to do.

Dad was on the phone when I walked down the stairs, and I was careful to enter the room silently, "Yeah... As soon as possible... I'll pay extra then," He sighed in frustration, "Yeah, well I have a carpet full of my daughter's blood. What the fuck do I have to pay to get it out?" He demanded, "I'll pay in advance. Just get them out here as soon as possible."

He hung up, pinching the bridge of his nose, not noticing my presence yet. I coughed and he turned around, straightening up, "That was Larry. He's going to get someone out here within the hour, so we should go. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I shrugged.

He nodded, grabbing his keys and a jacket from the closet before we headed outside. Somewhere down the street I could see three of the housewives talking on the corner, sending glances at us. Dad did his best to ignore them, although I could see his arms tensing. Their whispers lingered, and I knew they were talking about me.

I tried not to care.