How I Got Into Rehab

Chapter 5

Two years ago

"I'm so sorry," the doctor said with pity in his eyes. I hate pity. It disgust me. I hate my particular life. I don't want it. It sucks balls. He's dead. My father is actually dead. Lung cancer is such a bitch. My mom sobs uncontrollably by me. I don't sob or cry.

I hate this feeling you get when someone tells you something hurtful and it's like your heart bumps against your chest, but not in a good way. Then you feel your stomach drop.

It's a bad thing. I guess we all are. Breaking my leg was bad and boring. I had to sit out of dance competitions because of this damn leg. It's not fair how life goes in a cycle.

I wish life didn't have a cycle. We all made have different journeys in life, but one experience everyone usually goes through is losing someone you love the most.

My dad is my world. But why am I not crying? Everyone around me disappears as I urge Mother to take me home. I don't even notice the words that are coming out of my mouth.

We soon leave the hospital in silence. Mother has stopped crying. We didn't talk the rest of the way home.

We pull up in our driveway and Mother stops the car with a halt. I sit there wondering when she going to get up.

Idiot your supposed to comfort your mother. Your father just died. I say to myself.

Silently tears fall from Mother's eyes.

I sighed. I don't want to comfort Mother because I loss someone too.

I hate the silence so I take the keys from my moms purse and walk to the front door of the house. My mom didn't even acknowledge my existence.

She just looked straight ahead.

I locked the door behind me and walked slowly to my room in a daze.

My fathers dead. He's dead. No matter how my times I say it doesn't register in my brain.

I lean back in my bed and reluctantly went to sleep.

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I walked down the school hallways slowly. After that day my mother didn't really talk this morning. Not a word. Silence. That's how it's been for the past week since my father died.

"Lisa! Lisa!" Someone called from a distance.

My feet walked faster. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Not really.

"Lisa!" Someone called again. I mentally groaned before slowing down and turning around.

I look up. . .Of course, Rickey. He took interest me in history and algebra and English.

It was annoying, but he kept me company.

At the moment I don't want company I just want peace and quiet. I can't even get that in my head.

It's my thoughts screaming in my head.

Screeching, clawing to get there way in my head.

Your fathers dead! He's dead! Cold-blooded.

Gone. His heart stop beating. His blood stopped moving. The heat off his body is cold. I'm such a bitch.

"What?" I asked rudely. He raised a brow from my rudeness.

"You haven't being looking so good the past week," he paused, "I was wondering if you wanted to go to a party...with me?"

The first word that pops on my head is no. Hell no. Maybe you can forgot your father.

And the fact that he's dead. My answer quickly changes on my tongue.

I nod. "Sure," I said. He smiled big. He looked so happy.

"It's a date," he said, "I'll pick you up at nine at your house." I frowned. Dammit. I don't want a damn date. Ugh. Guys.

He hands me something. A small piece of paper. I open it. Numbers.

"Text me," he said before walking away.

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Present Time

"So did you go?" Lizzy asked.

I shrugged. "Hell yeah."