Why did my last words to him have to be, "I hate you"? How could I say that to my own father? The only one I had left. I should want my dad to be happy. Why was I mad at him for moving on, and marrying someone besides my mom? Here I am staring out my window, thinking of memories. I didn't realize how long I was sitting there until my best friend Scarlett walked in. She didn't say anything. I didn't say anything. There was nothing to be said. We just kind of sat there staring out the window. Finally she said, "Emm, they wanted me to come and get you. I told them you wouldn't want to-"

"No it's fine. I'll be there in a sec," I whispered. It was weird thinking how this would be the last time I'd be able to sit in my room. My stuff was all packed, and I was ready. Not mentally though. I didn't want to leave my house. Now I would be living with Scarlett. I was always excited to go over there. Not this time. Everything would change now. She is all I have left, and if she dies I could get thrown into a foster home somewhere.

* * * * *



It all started in November, one of the worst months of the year. I came home from school and he sat me down at the table. (He, being my dad), said, "I need to talk to ya about something Emm," We were really close.

"Yeah, what's up dad?"

"Well I've asked Chloe an important question... and well... she's going to be your new mother..." He trailed off.

WHAT?!?! I yelled, "HOW COULD YOU REPLACE MOM LIKE THAT?!"

He calmly said, "Emma, I just want you to be happy..."

"I hate you," I whimpered, and stomped out of the room. That was the last time I saw him.

* * * * *


A week later we had the funeral. I felt as if I was in a movie or a dream. Like none of this was real. I wanted it all to end, but I knew it wouldn't. Oh I knew. I also knew that things would never be the same again. Ever. In a way I guess I kind of blame myself for all of this. That accident he was in on 45th avenue. He was headed to Chloe's. It was after our big fight. I had never told my dad I hated him. Never. I thought that I'd see him again, but I was wrong. The feeling from when my mother died came creeping back to me. Creeping to that horrible feeling...Tears. I didn't want to cry in front of anyone. Not even myself. But I couldn't fight it. The tears were coming. I could feel the soreness in my throat, and the burning in my eyes. I knew they were coming but I had to fight it. The soreness in the back of my throat was getting worse, and worse. My body was weak. My knee's felt as if they would collapse. Then it happened. After all of the fighting, it wasn't worth it because I broke down. I collapsed to the floor in a fast thud and cried hysterically! And when i started, I couldn't stop. The tears kept coming, and everyone in the church was staring. The preacher stopped talking about my dad and stopped to look. Scarlett was comforting me. I remembered everything. I felt worse. I didn't know what to do. I felt as if I'd die, because of the hurt and guilt I was feeling.

* * * * *


That next day I moved into Scarlett's. I felt as if all of the life in me drained out like a leak in a gas tank, making me feel lonely and empty inside. I’m sure you could see it from the outside. With all of the regret I felt, there was no way I could ever be happy again. It was the same thing over the next months. I was lifeless, and I could hardly speak. When I did speak, it was only a couple of words. When someone would ask me a question I'd say yes or no. If I had to complete a whole question by saying more words than that, then I would just shrug like I didn't know. I couldn't eat, or sleep. It was like I wasn't the same person anymore. I wasn't active anymore and I couldn't feel happy at all. Scarlett's parents noticed of course. Noticed that I was wearing dark colors, and listened to music everywhere I went never smiling, or giving any expression. Just blank. That month I started going to counseling where I had to talk more than I wanted to.

"So Emma, how do you feel about your fathers passing?" My counselor, Ms. Louise smiled at me. I just glared at her. As if she didn't know how I felt. How does it look like I feel? Obviously I didn't want to talk about it. She said to me, “You don't have to talk to me about it if you wish."

"Can this session be over?" I said quietly.

"Only if you want it to be," she replied, “But I don't think that will help you much." I got up and walked out. Within the next few months I started talking more and more. One day at a session Ms. Louise asks me about my father, and how I felt about him. For some reason I told her everything! I sat there for hours crying, telling her about it all, and she listened. Listened and nodded her head as she wrote on her clipboard. Strangely I felt better. She told me that it wasn't my fault. Even stranger... I believed her. She told me to think about it. So I did. My dad was in a better place, and I knew I needed to be strong for him.

* * * * *


That night in a dream my dad was in it. In my dream I was sitting on the chair by my window. When my dad walked up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him worriedly, and he says to me, "Don't worry. I forgive you. I'm happy now, but only if you will be," He smiled at me and turned away.

"Wait, Dad-" I croaked. But he was already gone. The next morning I woke up smiling for the first time and realized that I needed to be happy. I have my whole life ahead of me. So I smiled as much as I could, and made sure to not tell anyone I hated them. That's how I learned my lesson. I learned it was time to move on to greater things...