He cleared his throat, and there was a small tear about to run down his face but he wiped it away thinking I wouldn't notice. He spoke,”this isn't what I want for you Traci, th-th-this isn't what your mother wants for you either. But you are dangerous, to yourself and to me, to our reputation, you won't ruin that, you know that just as well as I do. I can't tell you where you are, and the only thing really worth telling you is that you are stuck here, most likely indefinitely. We're starting to tell everyone that you went to boarding school, and don't want to come home, EVER. I'll--- visit, once in a while. Your mother, she is so ashamed of you, and afraid of you right now. She doesn't even want to see you. I'm-I'm sorry Traci, but you did this to yourself, I don't care why, I don't even fucking care why, but in your mother's eyes, your dead, you no longer exist. So much for being Miss Little Perfect, huh?”
He was drunk, I'd never seen him drunk before, well, this drunk at least. Usually, it was just going to party cruises in the harbor on Friday nights, boozing and gambling away his holiday bonus. This was different, it was so different. For the first time in my life, I was scared of him, the one person in the world who I knew loved me, or at least used to.
This was my chance to let go, detach from the world, this was when the second thoughts kicked in. What did I want these breaths for? I was never gonna see my world again, never fly from a pyramid of people hearing the cheers from the crowds at sticking a split 20 feet up. I was never going to buy another authentic Gucci purse and flaunt it like a model. None of it was mine anymore, all I wanted was my life back. I was wrong, it was all worth living for, I could have made it better.
Now I really had nothing. I really had a reason to pierce my skin, my heart, bleed to death. Give me a gun, I could end it fast, I wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger against my scull. And yet, now that I had ruined my everything with that one flinch of a finger. It made everything seem like a lengthy thought process, if I was going to be alone here, for as long as my lungs took in air, and my blood circulated through this shivering body, should I make It worth something?
I thought about what to say to him. Did he want a response, or did he just want to tell a mindless teen that she was a failure and get it off his chest, that he didn't love me anymore. Either way I felt so sick. There was a pit in my stomach so deep, and ,my breaths so shallow. I was trapped, cornered by my own psychotic mentality that my life was so bad and that I needed to go and fuck it up!
I watched him pace against the wall. Back and forth, running his hand across the door each time he passed it. He seemed deep in thought and as he strode across the floor, in his eyes I saw the most pain an eye alone can express. He was tearing and almost violently wiping the tears away before they made it down his cheek.
this is more stuff i wrote to the story i posted a while ago. I don't know if im keeping any of it because these days im being WAY over critical of my writing, but partly, i dont know if it really makes much sense. So, comments would really help me