Choke On Your Misery (Alex Gaskarth) *ON HOLD*

Chapter 13: My Clumsy Tongue Will Make it Right

Juliette

-flashback-

I felt arms wrap around my waist and smiled slightly as I stood in front of my open suitcase. It's the first smile I managed to pull out in the last few days; and ironically enough it was because of Logan. His sweet days were around again. Believe me when I say that I would want to take advantage of the few days I had left, but I had to visit my dad.

In the past few days I found out that he was in the hospital and it wasn't good, so I booked the first flight to Pennsylvania I found and started packing my bags. I was stressed, I was busy, but most of all, I was sad. I was never really close with my mom, but my dad was a different story; I could remember times when I was 15 and he'd take me out for ice cream. I just hoped that he'd be okay. That's all I wanted.

"I wish you didn't have to leave." Logan whispered into my neck, leaving soft kisses as he swayed us back and forth. I turned around and looked into his vibrant green eyes and smiled shyly. "I know, I have to see my dad though. You know that." I reasoned.

All he did was look at the ground and not say anything. He's been telling me for the past three days that he understood and now I felt like it changed so quickly. What happened? "Yeah, I guess." He muttered and scratched the back of his neck. "I'll help you pack." He offered and walked over to our dresser and picked up four of my folded shirts.

As he walked back over to the suitcase I pinched my arm nervously silently hoping he'd not notice the flask I snuck beneath the underwear and bras. He placed the shirts down on the bed and smirked at the suitcase. Shit. I'm really done for now.

"My, my, you're bringing my favorite lace bra." He said and picked up the blue lace bra that was in the suitcase. I don't think I've ever been so relieved in my entire life.

He looked down in the suitcase and paused as he was putting the bra down and looked back up at me slowly. I calmed down to soon! "So, Julie, so what did you pack?" He asked skeptically.

"Well, I didn't pack much yet, I still have to get my shirts and some other clothes in there." I said quickly and looked away quickly. My sights landed on the shirts next to the suitcase and I tried my hardest to act nonchalant as I grabbed onto them. He grabbed my wrist and squeezed. "I think you should rethink that answer." He whispered and reached his hand. Low and behold he pulled out the shiny silver flask and held it right in front of my eyes.

"Can't even stay sober for your own fathers funeral! How pathetic!" He seethed.

"He's not dead." I whispered shakily and winced as he squeezed my wrist tighter. "Please, Logan stop, you're hurting me!" I begged. Tears came to my eyes and he slapped me as soon as they started.

"Don't talk back to me!" He yelled. I whimpered and held onto my cheek. It stung, stung more than the others, I knew this one would leave a bruise.

"I'm sorry!" I said desperately. He laughed mercilessly and pushed me into nightstand. The corner dug into the back of my thigh and I opened my mouth in pain, but made sure I made no sound. It was silent for a little while. We just stared at each other. There's never usually a silent moment like this, I didn't know how to react. It was suspenseful. I knew I shouldn't do it, but I just wanted to run. So that's exactly what I did. I took a deep intake of breath and ran towards the door and started down the stairs.

Logan was too quick though. It all happened in slow motion. The way I looked behind me and saw him try and grab at my shirt. The way I moved forward to far. How I tumbled down the rest of the stairs and crushed my wrist beneath me and let gravity take me. He stopped in his tracks halfway up the steps and watched me crumple to the ground. He didn't even fucking help me.