Chapter Six

"Sam, you should just make me your taxi driver!" He laughed, turning right onto an obscure street.

"I'm really sorry Mr. Rogers." I sighed.

 "No need to be sorry." While I was sprinting home, Mr. Rogers saw me for the second time and demanded me to get in his car. I didn't resist since I was in agony from the cold. "May I ask you again why you were walking home alone? And be honest this time." I did.

"I was over my friend's house and I had to go home. I kind of left my dad without telling him."

"Spencer Gillings?"

"Yeah, him."

"I can tell you two are very good friends." Mr. Roggers chuckled. I shook my head, laughing as well.

"I suppose."

"So, I assume that's what happened last time too?" I gazed down at my folded hands resting on my lap.

"Not exactly. We had an argument last time and I walked out on him."

"Oh?" He said, more like a question than a statement.

"It wasn't a big deal."

 "Mhmm." I don't know what Mr. Rogers was so quiet about, but he probably knew it was a big deal. The car was silent for a few moments and when he spoke, I was so deep in thought that I flinched. "So," He began. "I know you know who those girls were." I didn't know what he was talking about.

"Huh?" I asked quietly.

"Those three girls. One of them punched you two days ago. Remember?" He asked.

"I told you that I don't know." He let out a breath as if he was irritated. Mr. Rogers turned onto my street. My house was in clear view.

"You do know. You saw them, Sam." He pulled up to the side of my house.

"No, I don't!" I nearly yelled. His eyes softened. "What?" I snapped.

"Don't cry." I twitched my eyebrows together in a puzzled way, then realized that he was telling the truth; I was crying. I wiped away a few warm tears and cracked open the door.

"I don't need help. Just leave me alone." And with those words, I jumped out of the red sports car and sprinted for the front door.

 

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I flew open the door and slammed it shut behind me. Dad appeared in front of me.

"What the hell, Sam? Where were you? Dinner has been ready for the past hour."

 "I-I'm sorry. I was just over a friend's house." He shook his head and walked away, entering the kitchen. I took a deep breath and followed. "I'm really sorry." I apologized again, taking a seat at the table across from him.

 "It's fine." I picked up the green fragile fork that lay by the side of the matching plate and poked at the bloody steak. "It's steak. Not poison." Dad said. I glanced up as he was taking large bites of his steak while watching me poke mine.

 "I know." I responded quietly and began to cut it up into small bite size pieces. We ate silently for the remainder of the time. When we finished, we carried our vacant plates over to the sink and placed them inside. I glared down at my feet, gulped, and looked back up at dad. "I guess I'll just g-"

 "No. Come in the living room with me." Before I could protest, he took hold of my wrist and dragged me into the living room. "Sit." I sat down on the couch. "You're probably wondering what the heck is going on with me and why I've been...out of it." All I did was nod; afraid to say something wrong.

 "Well, I owe you an explanation." He cleared his throat before he went on. "You know I've been really stupid; drinking beer all day, never showering, house always a mess, never caring about you, and so on. I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know you think I hate you and don't give a crap about you, but that isn't true." I felt the tears starting to well up in my eyes. "When your mom and Claire- when they left, I became depressed. I couldn't help it. I thought everything I had, I lost. God, I thought it was my fault. I should've been there with them instead of working. I should've known sooner. I'm so stupid!" Tears started to escape his eyes as well as mine. I didn't feel like this was real. It felt like a movie. One of those lifetime movies. You feel like it's unreal. That's how I was feeling.

"I know."

"I should be close to you, but I let our past take over. I felt like there was nothing left even when you were here the whole entire time." I wiped away my tears.

"Yeah," Dad finally stopped crying, took a deep breath and to my relief he said,

"I think you should get to bed now. It's Friday tomorrow."

 

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 Once I got out of the sultry steaming shower, I tossed on my blue bathrobe and walked into my room, closing the door behind me. I got dressed for bed in pink baggy pants and a light pink tank top. I don't know what dad was doing downstairs, but I hoped he wasn't drinking again. That would be abysmal. I finally got my old dad back and then he starts drinking? No, just no. I laid down on my bed and closed my eyes, but those thoughts just kept creeping back into my head along with others, robbing me of sleep.

What if he does it again? And I can't stop it? Trinity can kill me tomorrow! How will Mr. Rogers react towards me tomorrow?

"No!" I yelled, literally throwing myself out of bed and hitting my head on the corner of the side table. Heavy footsteps came running up the stairs and into my room. Dad rushed over to me.

"What happened?!" He yelled, helping me up.

"I hit my head. It hurts really bad." I stood up, but fell back down. My room was spinning before my eyes.

 "Crap," Dad muttered under his breath. He seemed to not know what to do. "Whatever you do, don't close your eyes, okay?" He was so serious, but I didn't know why. I felt something slither down the side of my face and I touched it. My fingers had a crismon liquid on them when I looked at what I had touched.

"Oh my God, I'm bleeding." I gasped. Dad pulled out his cell from his front pocket and dialed a number. "Who are you calling?"

 "Stop talking. We need to get you to an ER." I nodded. "Hey, Jerry? Yeah, this is Steve. I have a question for you." He paused for a moment. "By any chance, do you mind bringing my daughter and me to the ER? She had an accident and I need someone to drive us there." They exchanged a few more words, dad hung up, then looked at me worriedly. My eyes began to close slowly as dad kept screaming my name and shaking me.