So I Need You

"Beth...look the thing is that, see Connor...he invited me to this party and I really, really wanted to invite you but I know you've been really down about Joe being gone and I wasn't sure if it would be a good idea, to put you in that type of situation-"

"Em," I interjected, "take a breathe, would you? It's OK, really. I need some alone time anyway."

She breathed uneasily for a moment, "Well, alright. I'll call you tomorrow though, I promise."

"Don't worry about me, just have fun Em, honestly."

"Thanks Beth," she sighed uncertainly, "later."

I hit the end button, tossing my phone carelessly beside me.

It had been three and a half weeks since Joe left, and still he had no word on the extension of the tour. I was feeling a mix of emotions, the pain of missing him so much, the disappointment I knew he must've been feeling, and guilt. The guilt was nearly killing me.

I was guilty, because even with the knowledge that his homecoming would mean one thing : they hadn't made a deal, I still had that inkling of hope that he'd come back. That he'd finally just come home, and act like he never left.

I was a horrible person.

There was absolutely nothing to do, no one to speak to...nothing. The vacant house I resided in was just a constant reminder of all that was going wrong.

What with my parents never home, the emptiness and silence of the house was really getting to me. My mother had gone a little crazy, I assumed it was a mid-life crisis. She was never there, and I'd never felt so alone before. I had no one to turn to for comfort, no consolation.

Sure, that was selfish, but it wasn't like my parents cared about me. If they had cared, things never would have turned out the way they did. I would have never turned to drinking for consolation, to the cold empty feeling of being toyed with physically and emotionally. I would never have had to seek for the love and attention I lacked.

The mere memory of it all pained me, and yet the reality of it all was only more frightening. I knew that somewhere inside of me was that weak and pitiful girl still. Somewhere, lurking beyond my happy facade, I was still mourning. The loss of my brother, the abandonment of my parents...the pain of it would never heal.

I wiped my damp eyes hastily, sliding off the bed. There had to be something to do, something to free me from my tantalizing thoughts.

I made my way downstairs, the atmosphere was slightly eerie. I saw nothing but darkness as I crept down the hall towards the kitchen. The only light was that of a small bulb, hanging over the stove.

I heard the front door slam shut as I poured myself a glass of water. "I'm in the kitchen mom!" I yelled, leaning against the counter.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion as the heaviness of her footsteps puzzled me. I set my glass down, stepping cautiously towards the door. "Mom?" I said questioningly.

The door swung open fiercely, my father stood on the other side of it. "Daddy, you're home," I said meekly.

I stumbled back slightly, his menacing glare bringing a severe sense of anxiety in me. He stood like a towering beast, his hands clenched. His hair was unkempt, his usual stubble now a full length beard, even his eyes looked worn out. Everything in the way he carried himself was petrifying.

He took a hold of my forearm, squeezing it with great effort. "You're not the whore I was looking for," he whispered dangerously.

I had never before felt so in danger, than I did in that moment. The way his eyes pierced through me, how every word was spoken so venomously.

I tried to shrug out of his grip, my heart racing wildly. "You know, I didn't cheat on her," he said, speaking as though in a daze, his eyes staring off. "I thought about it, with no remorse, but that was as far as it went."

His hand gripped my other arm, the force on my frail body terribly was agonizing. His eyes met mine as he shook angrily, "Your mother hates me," he seethed, "it's all your fault Elizabeth, all of it. Justin...Marina...things wouldn't be this way if you were gone."

"D-Daddy, please," I pleaded desperately, "Justin wouldn't have wanted this! He loved us, he would've wanted-"

"Don't speak about him!" he yelled in outrage, shoving me violently to the floor. "Don't you dare talk about my son, you killed him!"

"He was your son, and my brother!" I cried, "I didn't kill my brother, I loved him. You can't blame me for this-"

"No!" he screamed, kicking me repeatedly in the stomach. "Don't speak of my son!" he seethed between each blow.

I gripped the floor helplessly, gasping for air. My lungs would surely collapse, my ribs felt broken. There was nothing but the two of us and my unheard cries for help. Nothing to stop him or bring him to his senses.

The blows came to a halt as he stepped back, disgust written across his features. "Get up," he spat.

I whimpered, slowly getting on my knees. "Get up!" he screamed, taking a handful of my hair and pulling me up on my feet.

My legs shook beneath me as I stood, his hand still grasping me by the hair. He shoved me violently into the counter, where I steadied myself.

He reached for the buckle of his pants, undoing his belt swiftly. He pulled it off vigorously, folding the belt in two. He raised his arm over his head, bringing it down quickly so that the leather weapon met my bare skin with a burning pain.

He looked completely insane as I watched him, staring wildly. "Daddy stop this, please!" I begged helplessly.

His eyes narrowed as he inched closer, his eyes filled with anger and manic, all hope completely gone. "You don't deserve to be here," he spoke shakily, menacingly.

My eyes widened in terror as, without further thought, his hand enclosed around my throat, his grip tightening rapidly. "Daddy!" I screamed, trying to pry his hands off, trying to be heard as the panic continuously rose inside of me. "Don't do this!"

His grip didn't cease, even as I flailed violently. He just watched as the breath slowly escaped my lungs, my life seemingly inching closer to it's end. I struggled, I cried, but his hateful eyes took no notice. He wanted me to pay for all the hurt he felt.

My body was growing weaker, as my throat seemed to tighten, the oxygen I was in desperate need of wasn't coming. I shut my eyes as sobs tried to escape my lips, in my mind all I could see was him. His beautiful eyes watching me tentatively, adoringly.

Even as I inched towards death, my sole concern was Joe. I couldn't stand the fact that I'd never see him again, that I'd never kiss his lips again, never hold his hand...never tell him how he saved me. From myself, from the cruel world I was living in.

I was so desperately in love with him, and he'd never know.

"Please," I gasped.

I needed to see Joe, to tell him that I loved him. I needed to get out of this, for him.

My hands groped the counter behind me, searching for something, anything. My hand ran across a piece of cold metal, cold sharp metal. Grasping the wooden handle, I pulled the knife out of it's slot, holding it up between us.

His grip instantly loosened, dropping me with a heavy thud. I held my throat, gasping for air. I was grateful, no matter how much it was stinging my lungs.

"Are you going to kill me?" he laughed manically, "Are those your intentions?"

"Stay away from me," I breathed raggedly, holding the knife up in defense.

"You don't have it in you," he taunted.

"Don't come any closer!" I warned, my body trembling involuntarily.

I let my hands guide me to the opposite side of the counter, wanting as much distance between us as possible. He was right, I didn't have it in me.

"Elizabeth, you're a fool. Put that down, you wouldn't dare harm your own dad, you wouldn't kill your father too."

I gritted my teeth angrily, my grip on the weapon tightening, "Shut up!" I screamed, "just shut up! You can't blame me, I miss him too! I never wanted him dead, but he is! I'm sorry that I can't bring him back daddy, I'm sorry!"

He charged forward angrily, the fearful gleam in his eye now replaced by menace yet again. I found my trembling hands flip the knife over, my fingers now wrapped around the blade as I used the wooden handle like a hammer, allowing it to collide with his head repeatedly.

He groaned loudly with each blow to the head, "Don't ever touch me!" I sobbed, "Don't come near me!"

He collapsed, his body sprawled limply across the floor. I let the knife fall from my hands, clattering loudly against the tiles. Retreating slowly, I cupped my hand over my mouth in terror.

He wasn't moving.

I approached him cautiously, holding out my hand as I felt for a pulse.

He was breathing.

My father laid unconscious on the floor. I could've put him into a coma, I was the cause of him passing out. My whole body was shaking as I backed away slowly, darting out the patio door.

I ran from the house, violent sobs racking my body. I felt so trapped, so helpless. I was running, but I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. I was only running to get away, from my problems, my fears...it was all I knew how to do. Run away, and make myself numb.

It was then I understood the true meaning of loneliness, and it was agonizing.

I heard a car slow down beside me, a car horn sounding loudly. I turned around, squinting to make out the figure in the car. Charming smile, blond hair, gray eyes. He was beautiful, in a surfer boy type of way, but he was nothing like Joe. He was vile and disgusting.

"Beth baby, what is it?" he asked, rolling down the window. "You need a ride baby?"

I glanced around nervously, mentally hoping that someone would come and stop me. "Yeah," I sobbed lightly, sliding into the passenger seat, my better judgment completely defeated by all the hurt coursing through my body. The heartache, the headaches...I was never one to deal.

"Don't worry," he smirked, "I know how to ease your mind."

I stared at the silver band on my finger, guilt washing over me. Joe would never forgive me if he knew, but in that moment, my heart's cries went unheard, as that weak and pitiful girl inside of me possessed my mind.

I just wanted to forget...