Who's Fault?

Chapter Twelve

(AN: trigger warning, self-harm)

I should've remembered to turn my alarm off, was the first thought besides 'ugh' that ran through my head as I was woken up. I rushed to turn it off so I still had the chance of falling back asleep. I checked the time on my phone. 8:30, damn. I rolled over and scrolled through my Facebook feed to get myself to relax again. As my eyes started to droop, I put on some soft music that would help me get back to my dream stage and set a timer for it to turn off before placing my phone back down and closing my eyes.

The next time I woke up it was around noon. I was groggy and irritable, to put it simply. After using the restroom, I examined myself in the mirror as I was washing my hands. I felt gross. My normally curly hair was half in a tangled nest of a messy bun on the side of the top of my head, the rest was bunched and knotted together at my shoulders; there was sleep gunk in my eyes and it looked like I was all sweaty. For a split second I contemplated a shower, but I didn't have the motivation for it.

I hated this day. Every year, it was the worst of them all. Dad's death anniversary; fifteen years. I honestly didn't know how I'd made it this long without him. I missed him so damn much and I hated that he was gone. He truly was my hero when I was younger and I'm a thousand percent sure that he still would have been if he was alive.

The memory of the day he died was permanently etched in my brain as if it had happened the day before.

Mom said that daddy was still sick but he was getting a lot better. She was even letting me visit him with her this time! She usually didn't let me; she said she didn't want me to see him sick. Daddy told me when I'm sick that I just needed extra love, then I would feel better. He was always right, so I'm gonna give him extra love and then he'll be all better and home to celebrate.

We were riding up the elevator and I could hardly wait to see him. I kept bouncing up and down in my spot waiting for the elevator to open up. Mom led me to his room and I ran towards his bed and jumped up, giving him a huge hug. He looked a lot different, his face was whiter and yellow looking, underneath his eyes were real dark, lips looked ripped up, and he was skinnier than before. But she said he was getting better.

"Daddy, I came to give you extra love so you can come home!" He started laughing, but it turned into a cough.

Mom rushed to his bedside and pulled me off of him, "she's fine, Rach. Let her back up." Daddy told her. She gave a big huff and took forever, but she lifted me back up. He wrapped me back up in a hug the second I crawled up to him.

We sat like that for a while without talking, I kept catching him falling asleep but every once in a while he would wake himself up by coughing. I looked up at him and asked, "daddy, when will you come home?" I felt sad seeing him like this. I wanted him to come home, it didn't look like he'd be able to anytime soon.

"I don't know. Hopefully soon."

"I miss you!" I whined at him.

"I miss you too, Winnie." That's what my daddy called me. He was the only one allowed; no one else. When he first started calling me that, I hated it because I didn't want anyone to think that I was named after a bear that had the word 'poo' in it. After a while I started to really like it, but only when daddy said it. It was just weird if anyone else called me that, so I banned everyone else from it.

"You know I love you, right." He said to me, "more than anything in the whole world."

"I love you too... more than anything in the whole world."

"I'm always with you, even if you can't see me. You know how?" I shook my head and he continued, pointing to my heart. "In here. I'll always be there. Because you love me and I love you. Anytime you need me and I'm not there you remember that. Okay?"