Carry On

I sat against the wall in my room, legs out in front of me, a cool breeze from the ocean drifting in. I could hear Dad's voice echoing through the walls. He hadn't stopped since he got home. He was on the phone with the cleaning service for an hour before Mom called him.

I closed my eyes, taking in deep breaths as I was forced to remember what happened seven years ago.

I ran up the stairs, my converse making large smacks against the polished hardwood floors. It was Saturday, which was the day Mom always took me out for ice cream after lunch. "Mom?" I called, looking around for her. I heard her shuffling in the bedroom and I walked over, pushing the door open. I stopped in the doorway, hand resting on the doorknob as I watched her.

She didn't notice me. She was too busy taking everything she owned out of the closet, shoving it into five separate suitcases. The designer ones Dad bought her last year for Christmas. She personally didn't like Louis Vuitton, but Dad didn't pay attention to us enough to know that. She was moving as fast as she could, as if she was being timed in a race.

It took me a while to find my voice. I think because, although I was young, I knew what was happening. I think my young eleven-year-old mind was just trying to block it, "Mom?" I asked and she stopped. She shut her last suitcase, zipping it up before setting it with the others, "Where are we going?" I asked and she turned to me.

"Sweetie, I'm going away for a while," She said sweetly. As sweet as she always was. Mom had a voice like candy. A voice that comforted me whenever Daddy wasn't home.

"Where are you going?" I questioned.

"New York," She answered.

"For how long? Are we all going?" I asked excitedly. I had never been on a plane before, or out of the state. Dad never allowed us to visit him on tour in other places besides California.

"No, I'm leaving for a while on business. Mommy got a job," She spoke as if I was five. As if I didn't understand.

"When will you be back?" I asked, but I already knew the answer. I think I just wanted to know what she would say.

"Well, I don't know yet," She lied. She lied to my face. She walked over to me, kneeling down to my level, "Things are going to be very different for you and your father. But you'll still have the rest of the family. And you can come visit me anytime you like," She smiled through her white lies. Never would I get on a plane to see her, no matter how hard I tried.

"Okay," I stated. What else could I say?

She stood up and began to quickly take her bags to the car. I followed, watching her as she packed up her Mercedes Benz. It was almost brand new. It didn't even have license plates on it. She fit three bags in the trunk and two in the backseat, plus a smaller duffel in the front seat. "Mom? Do you have to go?"

"Yes, Sweetie. I have to."

"But why?" I asked and use let out a frustrated sigh, turning to me.

"Because I'm not happy, Liza. You want me to be happy, right?" She asked, a dark glare in her eye.

"Yes," I said and she nodded.

"There's a note for your father on the table, along with an envelope. Don't open them. They're for him to read, not you. I know how nosy you are," She accused and I nodded.

"Please, Mom. You don't have to go. You can be happy out here too right?" I asked, my eyes starting to tear up. I knew what was happening. I just didn't want to believe it.

"No, Liza. I can't. Even then, I don't know if New York is far enough," She said softly before she turned around, shutting the front door.

I ran to the window, throwing the curtains open as I saw her drive off, wheels squealing as she did so. I had never felt so alone in my entire life.

I took in a deep breath, pushing everything I remembered away. I opened my eyes, sighing as I looked around the room. Dad had payed good money to make sure this room was spotless. Not a piece of evidence remained that I once attempted to take my own life in this room.

I got up, feeling claustrophobic. I walked out of the room and heard Dad's yelling get louder. I saw my keys on the small decorative table in the hallway and I grabbed them. I walked into Dad's room, even though he told me to stay away. He stopped immedeitly and looked up, placing a hand over the speaker of the phone, "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Can I go hang out with Amanda and Alicia? I don't want to sit here and hear you yelling at her," I said and he sighed.

"I can call Matt or Zack. I'm sure one of them can take you out of ice cream," He suggested.

"Dad, that worked when I was eight. And I've had enough of the guys for the past few days. Can't I just hang out with my friends?" I asked and he sighed, nodding.

"Please be home by nine," He said and I nodded. It was six, so that was a reasonable time. I didn't particularly feel up to pushing his buttons today.

I got a good look at him before I left. Bags under his eyes, some gray hair starting to peek out in his roots. He'd have it dyed by tomorrow, no doubt. His eyes were weary and he didn't seem as strong as he usually did. Dad's always been a big guy, well built. Not as buff as Matt, but I was pretty convinced that Matt took steroids to make him that size. Dad seemed weaker. And I felt like I should be hurting myself more, instead of hurting him.

I shut the door and he went back to yelling something about knowing how to raise me right. I made my way back to my room before texting Michael to tell him I was free to hang out. I quickly changed into a pair of jeans and my boots. I also changed my shirt, since there was some blood on it from when my wound opened up earlier at the studio. I put on a black blouse to hide my bandage and a cardigan. When I was done Michael texted me where to meet him.

It only took my five minutes to get to the small café he was talking about. When I pulled up he was leaning against his car. A black and sleek 2012 Mercedes Benz. Like always he was dressed in a pair of jeans that weren't ripped or too tight. They sat on him just perfectly. He wore a plain shirt with a zipped up jacket over it and his brown hair was covered by a black beanie.

Michael's parents worked in the Entertainment business. His mom, Lily, was an entertainment lawyer. She was constantly on cases having to do with big celebrities and their many conspiracies. She's been Lindsay Lohan's lawyer for the past two years. His dad, Eric, was a producer. Eric wasn't a producer for many rock band's though, so he never had the chance to cross paths with Dad. Although he knew of Avenged Sevenfold and vise versa. His dad worked with acts such as Cee-Lo Green, Justin Beiber, and Rihanna. So it goes without saying that Michael's family was loaded, just like mine. Except he actually had both of his parents, and they didn't want to kill each other.

As soon as I was out of the car Michael was in front of me. He took a good look at me before wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him. I breathed out, lacing my arms around his neck and enjoying the embrace. Although Alicia and Amanda were like my sisters, Michael always seemed to understand me more. We were best friends, but we just weren't around each other all the time. Sure, he was in band. He played saxophone. But we talked often and smoked often. We hardly saw each other at school because we had different schedules. He genuinely was a nice guy. I have no memories of him ever saying anything bad about anyone. I didn't believe he had a single bad bone in his body. He was caring and was one those people who jumped up at the first opportunity to help. It felt nice to feel someone care.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly in my ear, not removing his arms from me.

"I told you I'm fine," I said, but I had a hard time even trying to convince myself. He sighed, pulling away before leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"It's cold out here. Let's get inside," He motioned and placed a hand on my waist, leading me into the small cafe.

He ordered two hot chocolates and paid before we sat down in the back booth, away from the window and the majority of the room. He sat across from me, stirring his whipped cream into the chocolate. I let my rest, slowly sipping from the side of the cup. He was silent for a while, "I'm worried about you."

"You shouldn't be," I assured him and he shook his head.

"Please don't lie to me, Liza," He stated, "It wasn't a hoax, was it?"

I shook my head and he sighed, "You shouldn't worry about me."

"I should, Liza. You tried to kill yourself."

"I know," I whispered. He stared into my eyes and I could see the sadness in them.

"I don't want to think about you hurting yourself," He said.

"Then don't," I replied curtly and he shrugged.

"I will. I always will," He said, "C'mon, Liz. You know you're my best friend."

"Am I?" I questioned, challenging him.

"Yes," He breathed, "Jesus, Liza, why would you think you weren't? You know we've been through a lot together." He waited for me to say something, but I didn't. "Let's get out of here, yeah?" He asked and I nodded.

We stood and I followed him to his car, sliding into the passenger seat. We only drove down the street after he promised to bring me back to my car later. As cliché as it sounded, we went to the abandoned park on the corner. Kids hardly played there anymore since a newer and better park was built a couple streets over. I followed him towards a tree where he sat down. We sat cross-legged beside each other. Each of us playing with the grass, "Did you bring anything?" I asked.

He sighed, "I'm not letting you smoke today, Liz," He said.

"Why the fuck not?" I demanded.

He turned to me, "Because you drove here, first of all. You're not going to drive when you're high. Second, I know you're going home to your dad. Do you honestly want to open that can of worms tonight? I'm sure he already has enough to deal with."

"Oh really?" I rolled my eyes.

"Seeing as he almost lost his daughter, I'm sure he doesn't want her coming home high either," He stated firmly and I sighed. I knew he was right.

"I know," I muttered, "I think I've done enough damage."

We were silent for a long time, taking in the darkness that was starting to surround us. He mindlessly played with the grass while I sat perfectly still, concentrating on the breeze around me. It was a whole fifteen minutes before he turned to me again, "Can I ask you something?"

"If it's why I did it, you won't get an answer," I confessed and he shook his head.

"Can I see?" He questioned cautiously and I nodded.

I unwrapped the gauze surrounding my wrist slowly. Dad had done a better job of wrapping it than Matt, that's for sure. I took the bandage off completely and I saw Michael wince, "Please don't ever do this again," He said.

"I won't," I stated and he nodded.

"I should get you back to your car."

When I got back to my car Michael assured me everything would be okay. He also told me that the majority of the school believes it was a hoax. They'll believe it more when I show up to school without a bandage. I had already formulated a plan to cover up and scars with makeup. He also told me he talked to Alicia and Amanda. They're worried, but don't entirely believe it was a hoax. I told him I would talk to them soon. He gave me another hug, kissing my forehead before opening my car door for me. I slid inside and started my car, Michael shutting the door for me after telling me to drive safely.

For the first time since I got my license, I didn't speed home. I cruised for once, enjoying the time I had alone. I even opened the windows, despite the chilly air, and let the salty air whip past me. It took me ten minutes to get home and when I did I saw Dad's car gone. I sighed, not really sure why I was upset. Although I was shocked he actually trusted me alone.

I got out of the car and went to open my front door when Matt's familiar black BMW pulled up. I watched him as he got out of his car and made his way over to me. I opened the door and we both walked in. I kicked my shoes off before he finally said something, "Who were you with?" He asked. It really did sound like a question, and not demanding like he usually sounded.

"My friend Michael," I answered honestly.

"You know you told your Dad you were going with Amanda and Alicia," He mentioned.

"He wouldn't have let me go had I told him otherwise. Besides," I sighed, "I don't really want to see Amanda or Alicia right now." He nodded, I think he understood what I was trying to say. He was the one to be on the phone all day with Larry, trying to get something done around here, "So where's Dad?"

"Uh, he had to go somewhere," He said and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Matt was never uncertain, and that scared me.

"Where did he go?" I asked.

"Well... There's some things that came up."

"Where's Dad, Matt?" I demanded, anxiety rising in my chest. Where could Dad possibly be this late at night? And why was Matt so worried about me. "Matt!"

"He's on a plane to New York," He confessed.

The world stopped.

I couldn't breath. Dad left. Dad, who was the last person to be there for me, left. I shouldn't be so surprised, since I was the one who pushed him away. Tears filled my eyes, "Liza?" Matt asked cautiously.

He left you.

"Oh my god," I whispered, putting my hands on my head, "Oh my God, he's gone. He left."

"Liza, it's okay..." Matt trailed off, obviously confused by my erratic behavior.

"Oh my god," My hands started to shake, "He left just like Mom did."

"No, Liza that's no-"

"Yes it is!" I growled, "You know Dad was just stuck with me! You know if he could go back in time he'd leave before Mom got a chance to! And now he's stuck me with you because I'm not good enough!"

I went to storm upstairs, but Matt grabbed my upper arm. I sobbed, just as hard as I did the other night. He was quick to pull me towards him, large tattooed arms holding me back from doing something stupid. The world around me was spinning, and I couldn't focus on anything except the fact that my father is gone, "Liza!" He pleaded, his voice begging to be heard, "Please calm down."

"He's gone!" I sobbed, voice cracking as I fell limp, giving up fighting. He held me up, though, not letting me fall to the ground.

"Liza, please calm down. He's not gone forever. He's coming back," He stated and I shook my head, ignoring anything he was saying. I wanted so badly to just take that razor and finish the job.

Finish it.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed at the voice, "Shut up!" Matt's grip tightened and he managed to pick me up like a bride through all of my kicking.

Don't fuck it up this time.

"Why!? Why me!" I sobbed, "Leave me alone!" I kicked and pushed until Matt's grip finally loosened.

"Liza!" I heard him yell as I came in contact with the hardwood floor, my head colliding with the corner of the wall nearby. The spinning world around me halted abruptly and all I could see was darkness.

Finish what you started.