Each Cut A Little Deeper {Alex Gaskarth}

Chapter Ten~Off The Cliff~

TWO WEEKS LATER----------------

LUNAS P.O.V.

It has been two weeks since the kiss. Two weeks since the 'incident.'

Alex was at work. I was home alone.

I sat on the old leather couch sketchbook in hand, pencils scattered around me.

Alex and I went to 'my' house a week after our kiss. We still haven't talked about it, I'm scared that if we do he'll say it was a mistake.

I'm scared that would shatter my broken mirror of a soul even more...

A few hours had passed and I was still sprawled out on the small couch. I decided that having time to myself would be great. well to myself, I mean not cooped up in this house.

I grabbed my sketch book and the pencils that I needed. walked to the table to write a note to Alex to let him know where I will be if he gets back before I do.

I grabbed my phone, threw on my black and white checkered beanie on top of my faded dark blue hair, slipped on my black converse and slipped out the door.

'Now where to' I thought to myself as I pondered going to the woods seeming as how i'd have to pass the hell hole I used to call home. or even worse, if the person I called father saw me. he might be biological but nothing of a father.

I quickly gripped my messenger bag that hung at the right side of my hips as i quickens my pace to a run. I darted passed many houses until I stopped to catch my breath. of course I had to stop in front front of the my old house. the creamy paint chipping at the top. vines growing in un-ordinary places. I noticed my father's car wasn't in the drive way. he wasn't home. it either meant two things. he went to get beer or he sobered up enough to go to work.

I stood there for five minutes observing the memory filled house. still nothing from my fathers respondence.

I did the un thinkable, well for me at least. I stepped to the porch my hand outstretched to the silver door knob.

I turned the knob in my hand and pushed open the door. I was shocked, the house was spotless. beautiful, never in any condition I've ever seen it in. even when my mom was still alive.

See the thing is that my father was okay when he was sober other wise he was an abusive dick face.

I examined the bottom floor of the house. spotless. from the kitchen to the dining room to the living room. spotless. I edged my skinny body up the narrow staircase timing each of my steps cautiously. when I reached the top I found myself i front of a door that used to hide behind almost every waking hour of the day.

I slowly opened the white chilled door that would reveal most of my life.

Suddenly I heard the front door slam shut and my fathers keys hit the table followed by a long drowned out sigh.

SHIT! my fathers here.

I dropped the notebook I was holding. and his footsteps stopped.

"Luna? are you here." I sucked in my breath. I quickly picked up the old notebook and threw it in to the old messenger bag that still hung to the right side of my hips.

When I heard his footsteps near the bottom of the stairs I darted quietly walked my way over to my window.

"Luna?" by now he was halfway up the stairs. he sounded sober almost sincere but he was good at hiding his emotional stress.

By the time I got one leg out of the window he was at the doorway of my room.

From here he didn't smell wretched of booze. his hair was finely cut and but his eyes were red. as if he had been crying.

"Luna, your here." he said almost surprised.

I took my leg out of the window and stepped towards him. "I've miss-" I cut him off.

"Don't say it." i said through gritted teeth "how could you possibly miss me after months hell, years of torturing me with you fists? with a the venom laced words that you spat at me while you threw easy punches at my frail body knowing that I couldn't protect myself in anyway." I spat out in anger.

For a moment he looked sad then his eyes lit with rage and he threw me against the wall.

"How dare you talk to me in that tone of voice young lady" he yelled.

Shit I don't want to go back to Alex and explain the fresh bruises that lay upon my skin.

I lifted my leg to center the groin area and kicked as hard as I could before he could move out of the way.

He instantly fell to the ground holding the 'spot' if I may.  i stumbled to the ground books and pencils falling out. i got up unduring the new pain in my side.i shoved all of my books and pencils quickly into the black bag and trew it across my shoulders.

i ran down the stairs my enraged father close after me i turned the corner almost slipping due to the lack of grip on thesoul of my worn out shoes. i grabbed theknob of theback door turningquickly and stumbling outside slammingthedoor behind me.

the awful sound of glass shattering filled my ears soon after the door hit its limmits with the white painted post that stood inbetween the two of them.

i took of my bag and threw it on theother side of the metal fence and hurled myself over it with out a seconds notice. i grabbed my bag and ran to the edge of the woods. stopping to check behind me there was nothing, my father must have given up during the process because noone was behind me.

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hours after the encounter i had with my father i climbed a tree in the dead center of the woods. it stood in the middle of a clearing you would only know about if you spent time here, counting every branch of every tree in sight. for example the oak tree that i am sitting in drawing quietly on has 348 branches. i used to come here almost everyday to get away from my asshole of a father. it was m only escape. my mother used to talk me here when i was young. her laugh was joyful as she raced her six year old daughter through the trees that whispered silently to themselves silently as we raced past. we usually ended up in this clearing, we'd lay on the soft bright green grass and look up at the wonderess sky. she would sing to me, many different siongs that she wrote in her gallery of confusion.

i would often ask her to sing 'summertime' a personal song that she wrote. she had the voice of an angel. and i couldn't explain how much i loved her, even now. I remembered how she made me laugh when i cried. how shewould always find the best in even the worst things she was truely amazing. 

sometimes i thinl that her spirit lies within these woods still dancing and singing to the lyrics of all the songs that have been heard by her six year old daughter.

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