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Chapter Sixteen -- TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AGO 5:58 AM

WARNING:  I speak with religious terms (as I mention God) intently within this chapter. If you don't agree with these views, please do not comment anything pertaining to what is said during the following. Thank you!

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Danielle's P.O.V.

    I came into the living room, wondering what all the racket was about. It terrified me to see what was happening between my big sister and my daddy. They were both screaming at each other and being mean.

    "Why do you even care if I drink? You do too!" Sammie yelled loudly at Daddy. I hid behind the wall, not wanting her to yell at me too. "Face it, you think you're the only one who really hurts about what happened to mom."

    "That is so wrong, and you know it!" Daddy yelled back, hurting my ears. "For one, you're sixteen, Samantha! Think of the example you're setting for your seven-year-old sister!"

    "Same to you!" she said. As she waved her arms in the air so give emphasis, I almost giggled at how funny she looked, but I knew it wasn't the right time.

    Daddy started to laugh as he shook his head. He must have thought it was funny too.

    "You are a disgrace to your mother's memory. I don't drink nonstop with my pathetic friends. I've had one or two drinks a day since the funeral."

    What did he mean? Disgrace?

    "Excuse me?" Sammie said, placing her hands on her hips like Mommy did when she was mad. I miss her. A lot.

    "You're an alcoholic who is ruining not only her own life but everyone's around her," Daddy responded. Sammie isn't ruining my life. Yeah, I'm sad Mommy's gone, but Sammie helps me go to night-night sometimes when I can't sleep.

    I gasped when I heard a loud clapping sound come from the two of them. Sissy had hit Daddy on the face. Tears rimmed my eyes as they both stared at me with guilt written all over their faces. Sammie was the first one to run to me, and she pulled me into a big hug, holding me too tight.

    "Why did you hit Daddy?" I asked, my bottom lip quivering.

    "Sissy was mad, but I promise I'll never do it again," she promised, wiping the tears away from my face. I smiled, happy she wasn't going to hurt Daddy, but then I saw a tear slide down her cheek.

    I wiped it away like she did mine, and she smiled. "Thanks, El."

I wiped the tears away from my own face remembering what had happened nine years ago. Samantha and Dad haven't drunk like that since then, and were always careful what they said around me. They knew I was vulnerable, and as a kid I was thankful for the way they kept it PG around me. Now, though. I never knew something like this really happened to anybody, let alone me.

    The way they kept me shielded from the horrors of the world put me in a position where I don't know what to do or how to talk or anything. I'm vulnerable again.

    If I grew up like a normal girl would -- with both parents and sister who acted like everyone else -- would I be sitting here staring at a door, waiting for someone to come and kill me? What would have changed? I wouldn't need counseling every month, I wouldn't have grown up without a mom, and I probably, and most unfortunately, I wouldn't have met Tyler.

    When we first met that night on the bus, I didn't just feel a strong need to comfort him or to do a good deed but to shield him from the horrors of the world just like Dad and Sammie did for me. I guess I don't blame them for the way I turned out. I turned out fine. I am a responsible, caring, intelligent, young adult who just got caught in the crossfire.