Girl (completed)

49

   "Blaire, can we talk?" George asked just as I had put the twins down, and I put my finger over my lips, sushing him. I hung back for a moment to make sure that they didn't stir, and when they remained sleeping, I walked out to see George sitting on the couch.
   "Hi," I said awkwardly, and he patted the seat next to him. I sat, and all was wuiet for a moment.
   "Blaire, why didn't you talk to me?" He asked, and I took a deep breath. I found my hands fiddling with the hem of my dress, and they were shaking ever so slightly.
   "I was scared," I said, and he seemed to get angry.
   "You can tell me anything, and I can't help but feel that a part of this is my fault," he said, and anxiously ran a shaky hand through his hair.
   "No, George. Never. I love you so much," in said, "and that's why it was so hard to go to you. I didn't want you to be disappointed," I said, and he looked at me in slight shock.
   "You could never disappoint me, Blaire. I've always kinda looked up to you. You were the smart one. You were the one that had a chance," he said, and my heart felt heavy.
  "You really thought that about me?" I asked, and he held my trembling hands in his.
  "Of course," he said, and I gulped.
  "I always thought the world of you. You were the Golden child. They always loved you more," I said, and he sighed.
  "You were always mom's favorite. She was absolutely devestated when you left. She cried for weeks," he stated, and I shifted uncomfortably.
  "Dad...." I said, and let my voice trail off. I didn't want to think of him. Not now, not ever.
  "Blaire," he said, and I clenched my fists.
  "You can't just pretend that what happened, didn't happen, okay?" I said, and it felt like I was digging up ancient bones. The unspoken was now in the open, making me hurt a little more with every word.
  "No, I can't. I feel like I let you down by leaving everything unsaid. You needed me, and I was too much of a coward to do anything," he said in defeat, and I squeezed his hand reassuringly, causing him to look up at me. His eyes were red and glassy, and I prayed that he wouldn't cry because I really couldn't handle that right now.
   "You didn't let me down, Georgie. You were only twelve," I said, and he pulled away, turning from me swiftly.
  "And all of the years that followed? I could have done something, anything."
  "There is nothing that you could have done, and that's all in the past now. Let's let it go, okay?" I pleaded, and that only frustrated him more.
  "No! I can't just let this go! You're all fucked up and-and-" he broke down, letting the tears just pour.
  "George, stop," I ordered, afraid that if he went on, I would cry myself. No more tears, I promised myself.
  "No, you stop! Stop pretending that you're okay! That we're all okay! Can't you see how wrong this is? When you left he- he hit her, Blaire!" He yelled, and I swear that in that moment, everything went completely silent. Not a bird dare chirp, or a wind dare blow. It seemed as if my blood stopped flowing in my veins, and my heart stopped beating. It felt like I stopped breathing.
   "What?" Was all that I could manage to say, and George sat back down, holding his head in his hands.
   "It was just once. He slapped her when she started crying and said she was going to call you and beg you to come back home. He demanded that she didn't, and said that you were no longer a part of the family. I was so scared that he would hurt me, that I just walked away," he said, and I stood up slowly beginning to pace.
   "She wanted to call me?" I asked in surprise, "and he hit her," I said, recapping the story, and it felt bitter in mouth. It was like I was confirming it for myself, even though I had just heard George utter the same words.
  "I'm so sorry," he said, and I snapped back into focus.
  "It's okay. It isn't your fault. Hush now," I soothed, and he calmed a little. I was still in such a state of shock that I didn't even notice that I had started crying until the tears ran down my neck. So much for that promise, I suppose.
  "He hit her," was all that I could manage to say, and George kept crying quietly. His tears we're those of sadness, while mine were ones of anger. Hatred courses through my viens, and I truly believe that if he were there, I would have killed the bastard.
  "Do you think that in another life I could have been a bird?" George asked, and I say down next to him, my mind still far, far away.
  "I don't know," I said truthfully, and it was evident in my voice that although I was physically present, I was gone.
  "Stars fading, hut I'll linger on dear,
Still craving your kiss,
I longer to linger toll dawn dear,
Just saying this..." He sang, and a realization washed over me.
  "Mom used to sing us that," I said, and he smiled, nodding.
  "You remember?" He asked in surprise, and I felt the tears cascaded again.
  "I'll never forget," I said, and he began to hum it. I don't know why, but in that moment, I felt like dancing.
  I stood up and pulled him with me, and we danced. He held my hands in his, and after a while, I felt sleepy.
  "Goodnight, Blaire," he said as he put the covers over me, and the darkness swallowed me as he shut the door to my bedroom.
   I have never been really close to God, but that night, I prayed. I prayed for everyone I cared about. I prayed that my father was capable of feeling love once more, and I prayed that my mother had the heart to leave him. I prayed that John met a nice girl, and that George would be a bigger man than my father was. I prayed that the twins would grow up in a home full of love, and that Paul found everything that he was looking for.

And lastly, I prayed that the light never died in my eyes, and that I never became that cold, hard shell that my father was. I prayed for life.
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Ugh. I'm ready for happy chapters again! Thanks to everyone supporting this book, although I feel that I am not good enough to write it.