MY POV
I was in school, and had asked to be excused to the restroom. I mean, I didn't actually have to go, but I wanted to do a quick check. And I'm not gonna lie, get out of class for a minute. It was math, okay? Math and I have a passionate hate-hate relationship and it was so freaking boring. I was getting a headache and needed some fresh air, well, as fresh as you can get in New York. I was doing a check in the mirror when the emergency alarm went off. I rolled my eyes; the school did these fake emergency drills at least once a month, so I didn't think anything of it. Even though the drill for this month had already been completed. Yeah, that probably should have tipped me off but, it just didn't for some reason. I decided that I looked good enough, and walked out into the hall, which was eerily quiet. Now I'm a little afraid, this hall is way too quiet. I could feel the anxiety building in my chest, the hair on my arms were standing up, and I was holding my breath. I had only taken a few steps when, all of it happening so fast, there came a screaming and a guy came running down the hall. I turned to face him, and my body went completely numb, because there was a gun in his hands. My entire body was trembling, and my chest became tight. Holy shit, what the hell? My head began spinning, I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I mean, this is the stuff you read about and see on TV, but you never imagine it'll happen to you. I tried to, very quickly, remember all Dad had taught me about handling a person with a loaded gun; keep your voice calm, no sudden movements, keep your hands where they can see them. It's sad that he had to teach me that, and I used to think it was dumb; I'm really grateful he did that now, though. I took in a deep breath. Okay, I can do this. I hope. "Alright, you don't wanna do this, okay?" I said to him. I don't even know what he wants to do, but I have got to talk him out of it. If I can make it so that no one gets hurt tonight, that would be incredible. "They're making me!" He shouted. By the way he was sweating and shaking, and with how jittery he was either high, an EDP, or a high EDP (I really hope not). "Who's making you do this?" I asked, trying to calm my shaking voice. "The cops!" I rolled my eyes in my head. Another "poor soul" who thinks the police have done him wrong and he needs to avenge it. Not exactly gonna say that right now, though. I choose life. It's going to take everything I have in me to not get started with this guy and make the situation 100 times worse. Breath in, breath out. "Okay, well hey. Look, there's not a cop in sight, is there?" He looked around the room, past me, then behind himself. He violently shook his head. I need to get this guy completely calm before any uniforms show up or God forbid. "My name is Eliza. What's your name?" That's another thing Dad said; if you use first names, it's more likely to calm them down. I don't know why, though. Just more personal, I guess. "M-Mark." He stuttered. "Okay, Mark. It's just you and me, right?" He slowly nodded his head. "Okay. So, why don't you give me the gun, and we can talk about this, okay?" He thought for a minute, and I was prepared for him to freak out again. I was barely breathing, I could not believe this was really happening. I did everything I could to stop my body from shaking, to act as normal as possible even though nothing but sheer terror was pulsing through my veins, I've never been so terrified or felt so helpless in my life. Even though he seemed to be calming down, there's no telling what he'll do, or when he'll snap again. Thankfully, he slowly walked over to me, and it took everything in me to not jump. I put my sleeve over my hand (I don't want my fingerprints on that thing), but as he was about to give me the gun, two voices came around the corner; It was my Uncle Jamie, and my Dad. His eyes went wide and he jerked the gun away from me. Mark turned around, and fired. He got Uncle Jamie and Dad right in the chest. I began to breathe fast and heavy, the sweat began dripping down my face, and my entire body was trembling. "No! Uncle Jamie, Dad! No! You bastard!" I screamed. There was blood pooling from their chests, and they lay in a pool of blood. The color had completely drained from their face. I leaned over their lifeless bodies, begging them not to leave me. Their bodies were getting colder and colder by the second, and I was getting light headed. "Please. You guys can't leave, we all need you. This is not how it's supposed to go!" The room was suddenly spinning, and I heard someone calling my name. "Eliza. Eliza! Eliza, wake up!" I shot up in a cold sweat, my hands clammy. My breath was shaking, and I looked around the room. My eyes landing on Mom, who was sitting on my bed by me. Ugh, that damn dream again. I swear it's gonna be the death of me. My head felt fuzzy and dazed, almost like I was in some sort of trance, it was horrible. I must've woken Mom up. Which I feel horrible about because she got home late. At least she doesn't have to go to work tomorrow, today, whatever. "Mom. I'm so sorry, did I wake you again?" She sat down by me, looking extremely concerned. "Honey, you were screaming this time." She said gently, brushing hair out of my face. I brought my knees to my chest, and buried my face in my hands. This was the 4th night in a row I've had that nightmare. Each feeling more real than the last. I took big, slow breaths to calm myself down while Mom tickled my back. I've never, in all my life, had a recurring nightmare. I've had like, continuation nightmares. And I thought those were bad. This is so much worse. I am so exhausted. I've barely slept in 4 days, and I've been walking around like a zombie. I can barely function, and I'm falling asleep in class, which is extremely unlike me. I swear, I have this nightmare one more night, and I'm gonna fucking scream. Well, scream again, I mean. The nightmare is progressing, I never screamed before. I'm so exhausted in every way, shape and form. "You're father is on his way home, do you want to wait up for him?" These nightmares started the night after the bank hostage situation, always leaving me with the gut-wrenching feeling that something had happened to Dad and/or Uncle Jamie. And I don't calm down and can't go back to sleep until I know they're both okay. I don't really feel like talking to Dad about this. I don't really wanna talk about it to anyone. Because I'm worried that if I talk about it, it'll never stop. And I need it to. I can't live like this anymore. I'm getting so frustrated with this whole thing. Plus, Dad is going through enough on his own, the last thing he needs when he gets home from work is me dumping more stuff on him so, forget it. I'm seriously so done. I shook my head. "No, what I want is sleep." I said, whining partly out of exhaustion, and partly out of frustration due lack of said sleep. My eyelids are so heavy right now that I can barely keep them open, but I've also never been more awake in my life. "Alright." Mom got up to leave, and I stopped her. "Wait, Mom, can we say night time prayers again?" I need some sort of peace before I go back to sleep, and I hope I'll stop the nightmares. Mom smiled and rubbed my arm. "Sure, sweetie." We closed our eyes and bowed our heads. "And now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." We both said in unison. She kissed my forehead, I laid back down and Mom left. I took in one last deep breath, and fell back to sleep. Well, attempted at least.
DANNY'S POV
I was on my way home and decided to stop at a convenience store for a drink. I cracked my neck as I got out of the car; it had been a long ass night and I was just ready to get home and relax. I just had to tell 3 families that their kids accidentally OD'd and they're never gonna see them again. That always sucks and it's one of the worst parts of my job. Trust me, it happens a lot more often than you'd think. Kids are just pushing such dangerous boundaries these days, and parents won't talk to their kids and get real. I don't hold back from Eliza what drugs can do to you and how much trouble you can get into if your caught. Anyways, it's just time to go home. I walked in and saw that a man I knew, Louis, was working. His family owns this little store. "Hey Louis, how's it going?" "Eh, so-so." I don't blame him for being so-so. It's like midnight, any sane person would be in bed. Though, I'm not gonna lie, I love this city at night. The part that you don't see on postcards. As I was walking up and down the aisles, tiredness hit me like a ton of bricks, and now I just wanted to get out of there. "Hey, Louis! You got any of those cookies your wife makes?" "Yeah, she made a batch fresh today. She didn't make me no dinner." I stifled a laughter. That's awesome, she made cookies for the shop but not dinner. Knowing my wife, she'd do the same. "She made the cookies instead? I'll take a pound, then." Those cookies are heaven on earth, the best comfort food ever. It's my go-to feel good food. Even though if you ask Linda, it's not real food. you chew it, it goes in your stomach, then you poop it out. It's food, plain and simple. "What did you say those cookies were called?" "Polvorones." "Polvorones, delicious." I said, in an exaggerated accent. I looked out the window, and saw a man. I didn't like what I saw, but I couldn't tell you why. I kept a closer eye on him, and began moving, extremely slowly, towards him. I wanted to slowly creep to him Incase he saw me and got spooked. Then, he pulled out the gun. I quickly grabbed my gun out of my hollister and, still after all this time, felt a slight ping of anxiety in my chest. "Call 911!" I yelled to Louis. I don't have time to stop and call for backup myself, I gotta step in before a blood bath breaks out. I ran outside, aimed my gun at the guy, and yelled "Police! Don't move!" He shot at me and missed by an inch. My blood pressure is now going to be completely through the roof, that's never not scary. He quickly turned from me and shot someone walking towards us, 3 times in the chest. I got the best look at him I could as he ran off and hopped into a car; I knew the make and model (Ford Explorer), but not the license plate. And he was wearing a black hoodie with dark jeans and that's all I got as far as what he looked like and what he was wearing. I approached the victim and took off my jacket to put on the wound. I pressed down to keep the pressure on it. I lifted his head "Hey, stay with me, alright? Everything's gonna be fine." I said, breathless. He had blood pooling from his body, and I could see the life draining from his eyes. He was definitely likely and the chances of him actually making it out of this alive were basically zero. But, I wasn't gonna tell him that. "I... Don't... Wanna... Die... Please." He said through labored breathing. Well great, cuz that makes 2 of us. "Keep talking to me, don't close your eyes, okay? Help is on the way. Tell me about yourself, your family." If I could keep the victim awake and alert until the ambulance got here, there might be a better chance of saving him. The color was draining from his face, he was sweating, and it was completely obvious that every breath was a fight. I'm so pissed off right now. "M-my name is Mark." He coughed up a little blood. "I'm 28, I'm a Banker." "Banker, huh? You must like math." I said, keeping my eyes on the street. Where is the damn ambulance. He wryly chuckled. "I love it." He said, muffled from the blood in his mouth. Ew, math is so gross. Friggin hate it so much. "Love it." I repeating, finally hearing the sirens and soon after saw the lights. I felt so relieved, because time is of the essence right now. "Yeah, never been big on that myself. Help is here." I said, standing up and let the people who know what they're doing take over. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, and I could tell that my blood pressure was through the roof. Even though cops are supposed to be prepared to respond to situations whether they're clocked in or not, it always throws you through a loop when it happens when it does happen to you off duty. I rubbed my eyes, trying to process what just happened. Thank god I didn't shoot anyone because I'm really not in the mood for the paperwork. Soon after the paramedics arrived at the scene, Sgt. Gormley arrived. "What happened, Reagan?" He asked me. "I was in the store, I saw a man packing. When I saw it was a gun, I went outside and ordered the perp not to move. That's when he shot at me, missed, obviously, then turned and shot the victim." I explained in a nutshell. "How many times?" He asked. "3." Gormley pinched the bridge of his nose like he always does when he's frustrated. I'm definitely frustrated, especially knowing that another detective is gonna be handed this case, but in the one who witnessed it all first-hand. "Are you hurt at all?" "No." Even if I was, I wouldn't have told him. I just wanna get home. "Okay. Go home, get some sleep. We'll hit it fresh later today." It was midnight and I was exhausted. "It's my day off, remember? I promised Eliza we'd spend the day together." As much as I want to go in tomorrow and work this case, I don't wanna disappoint Eliza. She's been wanting to hang out for a long time and, honestly, I think it would do her good. "Then I'll assign another pair of Detectives." "No, Sarge-" "Reagan, you're not to go near this case. That's an order." For the first time in who knows how long, I had only 3 open cases, so I wasn't going to argue. I took a few deep breaths to lower my heart rate. Well, attempt to lower my heart rate, anyways. Until I get away from here, I'm not sure that's going to happen. "Keep me in the loop?" I half asked, half said. "Sure thing." I nodded. I definitely wanna know what the motive for the shooting was and everything like that. Can't help it, I'm a curious man and I am not sorry. I went back to the precinct to fill out a witness report, then finally made it home at 2am. When I got home, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and went to watch some T.V. to wind down. My whole body ached and I had a horrible migraine. As soon as I've got my body calm enough that I can sleep, I'm hitting the hay. And I guarantee that I'll be asleep before my head hits the pillow. As I was watching T.V., about 5 minutes in, I heard footsteps. I looked over at the staircase and saw that it was Eliza. "Eh, you, go back to bed. You'll need your energy for tomorrow." I scoffed and went back to watching the television. I'm telling you, getting that girl to go to bed at decent hour is like pulling teeth. Unless you knocked her out; and, no. I've never done that. I've wanted to, but I haven't; her mother would kill me. Relax, I'm kidding. I really think that we need to get her tested for sleep insomnia, if there's even a way to test that. She goes through a period every month or so when it's like she has so much energy that she doesn't need to sleep. I used to be like that, but that was also when I was in Fallujah in the middle of a war. Fallujah. That was the worst time of my life. I had to watch my fellow soldiers be killed, some of them were kidnapped, and some just totally vanished, never to be heard from again. And there were little kids caught in the middle of it, damn kids, innocent humans. The things that I saw over there, definitely got to me. But, I still signed the paper saying that what I saw and what I went through over there wouldn't affect me once I got home, because I just wanted to get home. To my family. I suddenly heard the door open, and looked over just in time to Eliza walk out of the house. Are you fucking kidding me, right now? Where the hell could she possibly be going? "Eliza! Eliza Jessica Reagan, get back in here!" She wasn't listening to me, she just kept walking. I threw my head back in frustration and exhaustion. "Damn it." I said to myself as I got up to follow her. I don't know what's gotten into her lately, but she hasn't been doing a very good job at listening to me. I get that she's a teenage girl and all but, up until recently, and I mean very recently, she's always listened to me. And blatantly ignoring me the way she just did? Very unlike her. I looked up and down the street, and saw her about 5 houses down. I ran after her and grabbed her by the elbow. She jumped, almost like I had just woken her up. Which I should not have done, because you're not supposed to wake a sleepwalker. It could kill them.
MY POV
One minute, I was laying back down, trying to fall asleep again after my nightmare. The next thing I know, it's the middle of the night, and I'm outside 5 houses down from mine. I jerked around as Dad grabbed my elbow. I felt dazed and disoriented. I hate getting woken up really fast, because then your body isn't ready for it and you just don't feel good afterwards. The sky was cloudless and starless, but the moon was like a spotlight. "Dad? What the hell is going on?" I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes and trying to get my bearings. Seriously, how did I get out here and why is he behind me? I feel so out of it. I hoped I wasn't sleep walking and did something to get myself into trouble, that's the last thing I need right now. "I was gonna ask you the same thing, but clearly, you don't know. I think you were sleepwalking." I looked up at him, squinting my eyes, thoroughly confused. So, I was sleepwalking. That means that I am incredibly stressed out. "Sleepwalking? I haven't done that in years." Although, I was having the dream again once I fell asleep. He knows better than to wake me when I'm sleepwalking, that is so dangerous. I wanted to cry because of how annoyed I was by that horrid nightmare. I used to sleep walk all the time as a kid, and my parents got me on some medicine for it for a few years, and it stopped when I was about 10 years old. On the nights that I would sleep walk, I could barely function throughout the day because of how tired I would be so, no doubt I'm gonna be absolutely exhausted tomorrow. These days, I only sleepwalk when I'm super stressed or nervous. I haven't done it since before Uncle Joe died. "You sure you're up to going tomorrow?" Dad asked. "Yes! I mean, yeah. I'm good, seriously." I tried to stay calm. Even though I wasn't sure whether I was physically up to going tomorrow, absolutely nothing was going to stop me from hanging out with my Dad. It's been a long time since it was just him and me and I know he's been extremely stressed out lately, and I was hoping I could help calm him down a little. Take his mind off of things and hopefully he'll be able to relax and have some fun. He shook his head. "Why do you even bother lying to me? Do you forget what I do for a living? I can see right through you." I rolled my eyes. So, apparently I have a tell; when I lie, my eyes dilate. And that's not exactly something I can control, which really sucks. Other people's tell is they scratch their head or they smile or something like that, something they could easily stop if needs be. But no, not me. Not many people know that, though. Not even my mother knows that, pretty sure it's just my Dad now that I think about it. "Point taken. I'm way too exhausted to talk about it right now, though. Tomorrow, okay?" "You better." "I will." I said, and I honestly just hoped that he would forget about the whole thing and not make me talk about it because, honestly, I really don't want to talk about it. It's just not something that I'm comfortable saying out loud so, fingers crossed that, for the first time in history, Dad will forget about something. Or we'll just get so busy that there won't really be an appropriate time to bring it up. He put his arm over my shoulder as we walked back home. I felt totally and completely out of it and couldn't wait to get back to my bed, because I do not like this feeling. At all. My legs were numb and it was kind of hard to walk. We walked into the house and upstairs to our rooms. With every step that I took that got me closer to my room, my anxiety got higher and higher. Because for the past little while, my bed has not been a peaceful place like it's supposed to be, but rather the last place I wanna be. Dad pet my head and said "Good night." "Yeah, night." I whispered. My stomach was churning, and I was just praying to God that I could actually get some decent sleep, even though I knew that was a complete joke right now. I slowly crawled into bed, dreading closing my eyes. I wrapped myself in my blankets, let out a deep breath, and, reluctantly, closed my eyes. Everytime I shut my eyes, I saw that man shooting my Dad and my uncle. Or I saw Uncle Joe walking up to me when I was in a coma, or everyone's disappointed faces when I woke up. I just wish I could jump off this reckless train of thought. But, I overthink things, and it is going to end up being my downfall, I just know it. Maybe if I just focus on my breathing, and nothing else, I might get to sleep. Might being the keyword. I finally drifted into a dreamless sleep at 6am, and Dad woke me up like 4 hours later. "Come on, get ready. We're leaving in an hour." He said loudly from outside my bedroom door. I groaned and rolled over. God damn it, I actually was able to get some decent sleep for the first time in days. "Got it." I replied. I am, of course, stoked to be spending the day with Dad; he works so much and I don't get to see him very often, so a day with just the 2 of us is a rare treat. But, I haven't been the same since the nightmares started and, like he said last night, Dad can see right through me. Plus, I just cannot shake the feeling that something terrible is just around the corner, or what happened last night. Something is about to go down, I just know it. I'm gonna need a coffee to make it through this day, since I'm only running on 4 hours of sleep, because I don't count the sleep I got before I got woken up from sleep walking. I was determined to do my best to put that all in the back of my mind and have fun. But honestly, it probably won't work, it never does.
DANNY'S POV
I was pretty thrilled to be spending the day with my daughter; it had been way too long since I hung out with her, just her and me, and she's growing up way too fast. And our lives have been so touch and go lately that we really just need to take a second to slow down and remember what's really important in life, what really counts. I'm taking her to Ground Zero because she absolutely loves it there. It's kinda crazy, she wasn't old enough to remember that day at all, but she's studied 9\11 so much and asked so many questions to so many different people that she knows so much about it. You would have thought she was on the front lines that whole time. After that, we're going on a walk in Central Park, then back home for a movie. Eliza came down the stairs and I tossed her a bagel. "Eat. Now." "Yes, sir." She saluted me. I tilted my head and pursed my lips together. What is with her attitude? I get that she's annoyed about us all keeping such a close eye on her, but I'm annoyed that she even did it in the first place, so I guess we're even. My fuse is very short right now given what happened last night. I know I didn't sleep much last night but, I normally don't sleep much so, that has no effect on me. It doesn't matter how long I've been a cop or how many shootings I've seen, it still gets to me when someone is shot right in front of me or when someone dies in my arms. "Sorry." She said awkwardly. "We're just looking out for you, kid." I told her. "I know, Dad. It was a joke." I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. That's really not something to joke about, it was a very serious and very dangerous situation that really taught us all a lesson. I just wish she'd take it more seriously. Sometimes I think she still doesn't understand the magnitude of what she did. "Right." She sighed. "Look, Dad, if you're too stressed or tired, we can just stay here." I put my hands on my hips, sighed, debated it. It's like, in ways I want to just stay home and relax. But, at the same time, we've both been looking forward to this and I really do need to get out and have some fun, and not think about work. Well, try not to think about work. I cannot and will not cancel this and disappoint both of us. So I said "no, it's fine. Let's head out." "Whatever you say." She mumbled, raising her eyebrows. "Great." I said, and we left for Ground Zero. I couldn't shake last night, watching that kid executed in front of me, dying in my arms, and not even seeing the shooter, because he was wearing a ski mask, I felt so dirty. As we were driving down the road, there was a really loud pop; it was just a pothole or something, but it made Eliza jumped about 50 feet in the air. I raised an eyebrow in confusion. I guess being a cop for almost 2 decades make you immune to loud noises. Well, try to be, at least. I can't deny that everytime I hear a loud, unexplained noise, my Marines training and PTSD kick in, and I'm instantly on alert. Still though, she's not easily startled. I mean, come on, she's the one who drags us to haunted houses and takes the lead. I usually have to have Linda hold my hand during haunted houses, because I don't trust myself to not punch anyone. "It was just a pothole." I said matter-of-factly. She had her hand to her chest, her head between her knees and her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath. It definitely scared the living daylights out of her. I couldn't help but chuckle a little. I laugh at people being scared, their reactions are just hilarious. But I personally don't like being scared. "Yeah, right. I knew that." She said breathlessly. I shrugged it off. I mean, neither of us exactly got great sleep last night, so that's probably a big contributing factor. Most people get more jumpy when they're tired. "So, how's school going?" I asked her. I hated school in every way. I could never sit still long enough to actually get my work done, I caused fights, I wasn't the good Catholic boy everyone wanted me to be. I was amazed I graduated and when I did, I swore I'd never go to school again. The police academy doesn't count. "It's going pretty good. I passed that science exam with flying colors. I was the only one who got 100%." She nodded proudly. "Atta girl." I smiled, high fiving her. She definitely got her smarts from her mother, my grades were a little below average. School was just never really my thing, especially not homework or tests. I just could never sit still long enough. But Eliza is very book smart. And extremely street smart. "I did give myself a nice pat on the back for it." "As you should. Proud of you, I knew you could do it." I know how nervous she was for that test. She can know the material inside and out, but put a written test in front of her and her mind goes blank, which is why she gets to take tests in an empty room. That's the only accommodation she gets. Because Linda and I wanted her to be as included as possible. "Thanks so much, Dad. Hey, how many open cases you got right now?" "3." "Impressive." "Pft. Don't sound so surprised." '"I'm not surprised." "Yeah, okay." I don't remember the last time I had so few open cases on my hands, it felt nice. There's no better feeling for me than when I put a case to rest, bring some sort of justice and closure. It's never an easy thing but, no worthwhile thing is. I remember when I was little, and Joe and I would play detective all the time. I guess I was one of those few who knew what my calling was young in life. It also helps that I was swaddled in NYPD blues. The grind of the job, the fact that I never know what each day is gonna hold, that's something that I love about this job. I'm passionate about it. And, unfortunately that gets me a lot of complaints and a lot of rips. But, if you do your job right, you're bound to piss people off. And I don't care if I piss people off or if I have to bend the rules to get things done. That's how I do things. It's always been more than just a job to me. I'll try not to think or talk about shop today. Try being the operative word. We drove for about 20 minutes, singly loudly and horribly out of tune. I haven't had this much fun in a while. I cannot sing to save my life, neither can Linda. Or the rest of the family for that matter, except for Jamie and Eliza. But, just because I can't sing doesn't mean I don't do it. Jackie gets annoyed when I do cause I'm that bad, she's even told me to shut up a few times. Jamie pulls the whole "Hey, who sings that? Let's keep it that way." I mean, come on; I'm not great, but I'm not that bad. Eliza never complains about my singing. But, she''s also too nice to tell someone that they suck at something they love doing. We were belting out every song that came on. A song from the 80s called Hangin' Tough by a band called New Kids On the Block came on, and my daughter had the nerve to ask "who is this? The Backstreet Boys?" I was in total awe. "The Ba-I have no words."
MY POV
Well, in my defense, it did sound like the Backstreet Boys. A much younger version of them, but still them. For a little bit, I had let loose and was having a blast with my Dad. The dream was totally out of my mind. It was hard to think about it, since Dad was singing so bad I started laughing so hard that I couldn't breath. I mean, I love him to death. But the time has finally come for me to tell him that he can't sing for squat. I mean, it's not like he was planning on becoming a singer, anyways. "What? Why're you laughing, huh?" "Because... You can't... Sing!" I said between laughs. "What? Come on, I'm a great singer!" I stopped laughing long enough to say "You can't sing to save your life." His jaw dropped, he put his hand on his chest, pretending like he'd just heard blasphemy. Well, he raised me to always be honest no matter what. I have a feeling he's regretting that slightly. I had tears streaming down my face and my cheeks were hurting. "It's nice to hear you laugh again, kiddo. It's been a minute." I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah it has." It's pretty obvious that I've been even more down in the dumps than usual. I've missed genuinely laughing. Lately, I've been forcing laughter and faking smiles so much. But today, it was all real, brought on because I actually wanted to laugh and smile. I know I have got to stop this whole wallowing in self pity stuff. And I think, slowly but surely, I'm getting there. I bet once I stop having the nightmares, things will be a ton better. We parked and began approaching Ground Zero. I always love coming here, but I can never explain the feeling that goes through me whenever I'm here, I honestly can't even really try. I'm always in awe of how beautiful this city is, I love New York. As we were walking around, I heard a giant bang that I could have sworn was a gun. No, please no, don't let anyone get shot or I swear to the gods I will lose it. That would confirm my bad feeling, though. I screamed a little and jumped backwards into Dad. He grabbed my shoulders and said "relax. It was just that box dropping." I took a few deep breaths to lower my blood pressure, because I was certain that it had just skyrocketed. I honestly almost dropped to my knees, that was so frightening. Thank goodness it wasn't a gun shot, that would have been awful. I know that Dad has his gun but, still. He tilted his head, and he didn't necessarily glare at me, but he raised his eyebrows and had a concerned look on his face, or like he was trying to find something. "You sure you're okay, Eliza? I mean, you're not normally this jumpy." "Yeah, I'm good. Probably just from the lack of sleep I got last night." He nodded, totally not believing me. "Mhm. We'll talk about it more tonight." He said. I'm telling you, sometimes it really sucks having a father who's paid to know when people are lying to him; I could hardly get away with anything, and he certainly was not going to drop this. I probably do need to talk to him about it, that might ease my fear and put my mind to rest. But, not yet, not today. Today, we left that all when we walked out the door. We began walking to Ground Zero. "You know, Dad," I began. "I've heard that anyone who was old enough remembers exactly where they were and what they were doing when the towers were hit." He squinted through the sun, nodded, and said "it's true." He said, looking up at the sky. I took in a breath. That's absolutely insane to me, I mean that was years ago, but I've had people tell me exactly where they were and what they were doing. To have an event that traumatic, I can't even imagine. I wasn't old enough to remember, at all. But I feel bad for people who were. And I have the utmost respect for the people and cadaver dogs who did all of that work. I debated asking him where he was, because I didn't want to get him worked up or bring back any bad memories. But, me being me, I went ahead and asked. Because I'm a little too curious at times. "Where were you?" I asked him. "We were celebrating your birthday. You were born exactly 4 years before, and you were born the same time the first tower was hit." Oh, my God. That's so, I don't know, weird? I really don't know how to feel about it. Is that a coincidence? Or was that God telling my family what trouble I was going to be? Who knows. "No way?" "True story." Wow, I never knew that." "Yeah, it was a very emotional day." "Yeah, I can only imagine." I whispered, looking down at the ground. I know it was such a sad day, and so much tragedy and death had occurred; but I couldn't help but feel curious about it and want to learn everything that I could. I know it sounds weird, but I wish I was old enough to remember that day. I could tell my kids where I was, what I was doing. It's just really remarkable to me. And I guess you could say I'm a sponge; I like to soak up as much knowledge as I can about as much as I can. "Dad?" "Hm?" "Do you...." I trailed off, I could not believe what I was about to ask. It made me feel anxious and nervous, but, I had to ask. "Do you think something like that will ever happen again?" I said softly. I mean, that event changed this country forever, the way we do things, how we view Muslims, everything. I can't imagine what would happen if something like that went down again. He put his arm around my shoulder and said "I sure hope not, kid. When we get back home, remind me to show you my pin. And ask your Grandpa if you can see his." "What pin?" I asked. He looked at me, shocked that I didn't know what he was talking about. "I've seriously never told you? They gave all of the first responders who survived a special pin." I smiled from ear to ear, lighting up. I always think, there's no way I could be more proud of my Dad, or my whole family. And then they tell me something like that. I know Dad and Grandpa and everyone involved in the rescue and dealing with the aftermath had to have worked around the clock, and saw some really horrible things, went through so much. They deserve all the recognition in the world. "You never told me that. I really wanna see that pin." I said, pulling his arm. "Done." He chuckled. I am so incredibly proud of my Dad and Grandpa. I can only imagine how many lives they must've saved. "How many days?" Was all I asked. "About a week." He responded. I was asking him how long the first responder spent saving people and finding bodies. I've seen pictures and videos, heard the horror stories, and those alone make my stomach churn. But, to see the carnage no matter where you turned, have it on every single TV channel and radio station. The rest of Ground Zero was spent with me asking tons of questions about that day, and the days that followed; I was genuinely interested. We walked over to where the towers used to be, and I kneeled down, running my hands over some of the names. I feel so lucky to not only be living in this country, but in this state. It's the land of the free because of the brave, that's what I like to say. I crossed before I stood up and we moved on. I was having a lot of fun, just walking around and looking. It's nice to take a day to take things slow and just chill out, you know. Then, we went for a walk in central park. He grabbed a small bag out of the trunk before we left the car. "What's that?" I asked him suspiciously. "You'll see." He said. Gr, I hate when people do that. You don't do that to someone who has anxiety, it causes their anxiety to act up. I mean, I know that it's obviously nothing dangerous, but I am extremely curious, and also a little excited. Dad doesn't do surprises often so, this must be a really special occasion. We got some coffee and sat down on a bench. Dad and I live on coffee, and Mom constantly nags us about how much coffee we drink. But, I don't know how she pretty much does without it; she's an ER nurse for crying out loud! But, anyways. "Thanks for spending the day with me, Dad. It means a lot to me." I said, sitting down. I've definitely needed a little more one on one time with both my Dad and my Mom, but I didn't want to say anything, because they're both super busy, and they need to be able to find some time to connect so that they keep their marriage strong. But, it does mean more to me than he knows that he spent this day with me. He patted my knee. "It was my pleasure. I have something for you. Hold this." He handed me his coffee and grabbed the bag he had retrieved from the trunk and handed it to me. It was heavier than I expected it to be. I looked at him. What does he have up his sleeve? "You wanted to know what it was. Open it." He said. I was half excited and half nervous. I opened the box, slowly I might add, because I didn't know what to expect, to find a necklace that was a mini police shield. I was confused at first. I think Dad was expecting me to say something so, when I didn't, he said "every time from here on out you become genuinely afraid I might not come home to you and your mother, I want you to hold this shield in your hand and trust what it does, and my training." This had got to be the most thoughtful and sincere thing anyone has ever given me. I think I'll put Uncle Joe's dog tags on this chain, and I'll have my 2 biggest strengths with me at all times. My heart was filled with warmth, and a smile slowly crept across my face. I love this so much. I knew what I was feeling, but I didn't know how to explain it or express it (that's definitely the Reagan in me.); so, I just said. "Thank you, Dad." "You're welcome." Both of us looking and feeling a little awkward. Neither of us are really good at expressing emotion and kind of get uncomfortable when we have to. It's a flaw. I looked at my necklace, then back to him, then back to the necklace. "Will you put it on me?" I asked. "Sure." I turned around and lifted my hair up so that he could clip it on. Because putting a necklace on yourself can get weird. It went perfectly with Uncle Joe's dog tags, so maybe I don't need to take them off their chains. Suddenly, my phone went off, and I saw that it was a text from Mariah. I haven't heard from her since school yesterday, which was really unusual. Maybe that's why my anxiety has been so high. Oh, God. What if that's what my dream has been about? I hope nothing is wrong. "Come on, put the phone away. We were having a nice moment there." Dad whined, clearly annoyed. I didn't blame him, this was our day, just the 2 of us and we promised each other that nothing and no one would get in the way of that. But I better be getting an explanation from Mariah as to why she's been ignoring me. I have a very bad feeling that something horrible is about to go down. "One sec, Dad. It's Mariah, I haven't heard from her all day." I told him. "Pft. Kids these days." He scoffed. The text read: "Hey, I just want to say thank you so much for being my best friend. I love you so much, and NO MATTER WHAT, I don't want you to blame yourself for ANYTHING. Okay?" I felt my heart drop into my stomach. Damn it, I knew it was something bad. I'm hoping this isn't what I'm thinking, but I know it is. "What the hell?" I whispered, confused. "What?" Dad asked, still clearly annoyed, thinking it was nothing serious; I sure hope he was right. Nicky then called me. I raised a finger to silence Dad. "Nicky, did you just get that text from Mariah?" I answered. (Yeah, what was that about?) "I don't know. But, there's definitely something fishy going on." The other end of this conversation was quiet for a moment. (You don't think?) She asked. My breath got caught in my throat, my stomach was churning, and I closed my eyes to fight the tears. I'm expecting the worst, that she'll either be dead by the time we find her, or we won't be able to talk her out of it. But hoping for the best, that we'll be able to talk her down and get her the help she needs. "We gotta get to her house, now." I told her, the urgency plain in my voice. (I'll get a ride from Mom.) She said, her voice shaking. "Okay, bye." I hung up. I turned to Dad, the fear and panic probably evident in my eyes. "Dad, I need you to drive me to Marian's house, I think she's gonna try to kill herself!" We ran to the car, because we have absolutely no time to waste. We are in a race against time at this point, time is of the essence, and we have to win the race. On the way, Dad called 911. "Yeah, this is Detective Reagan, Shield number 8714. I need a bus to 612 Ackerman, Staten Island. Possible suicide attempt." Please God, don't let us be too late.
DANNY'S POV
This day had taken an extremely ugly turn. I've known Mariah and her brother since they were babies, Mariah and Shawn grew up with Nicky and Eliza. Mariah's kind of been like a second daughter to me. I had no idea she was in so much pain. I turned to Eliza as we were driving. "Hey, I'm leaving it up to you and Nicky to talk her down, whatever it is she has planned. Nothing that I could say would matter to her." She nodded, and took in a shuddered breath. I hate that my daughter and niece have to be put in this situation, but I don't think it'll work with me. I really believe that the only ones who have a chance of stopping this are them. I held on tight to the steering wheel so she wouldn't be able to see my shaking hands. I don't want her to know I'm nervous, too. She needs to be as calm as possible when she comes face to face with Mariah. "Alright. Remember; keep your voice calm, level, and steady. If she tells you to stop walking towards her, you stop walking towards her. And DO NOT, under ANY circumstances, make any sudden movements." I told her. I don't know what's more sad; the fact that I am giving my 15 year old daughter advice on how to talk to a suicidal person, or the fact that I've done it enough that I can do so effectively. "Yeah, I got it." She held her head in her hands. She's absolutely terrified, and I am, too. This would be the last thing Nicky and Eliza need, between having to bury their Uncle Joe, their Grandma dying only 2 months before, and now Jamie joining the department, which has us all on edge. I don't know what this would do to them. And, I'd be very upset and disappointed too. If bad things keep happening around the same person, does that mean something? Maybe I'm cursed or something. "I hope Nicky and I can talk her out of this." She said, rocking back and forth. "Yeah, me too." I told her, smacking her knee. If they can't, this is going to be a long night for everyone. "Oh, my god, Dad. I can't believe I didn't see this coming; with them losing their house, then her mom losing the battle to cancer..." She's already starting to blame herself. If she's already starting to blame herself and Mariah isn't even dead yet, this will be a long and complicated road ahead if Mariah does die today. If someone kills themself, it is nobody's fault but their own. I'm not trying to be insensitive, but it's true. I mean, obviously there are events that lead up to them wanting to take their own life. But, they know themselves better than anyone and know when they need to get help. And, if they don't get the help they need before it's too late, that's on them and there's nothing anyone else can do. "Some people are really good at hiding their feelings." I told her. Me included. I'm being a bit hypocritical here but, I could never leave my life, my family and friends behind, no matter how tough it is at times. No matter what internal battles I fight. "But I tell her everything. Why wouldn't she talk to me?" I could see the pain in her eyes, and I could tell she was beating herself up. Some people are an open book, others are completely closed doors, and very few people are in between. But, I have always known Mariah to be an open book, so this does strike me as odd. "I don't know." Was all I could say. She didn't say anything else. We got to Mariah's apartment building. When we pulled up, Eliza said "I'm really scared that we'll find her dead." I looked up on the roof of the apartment, and realized that they aren't in danger of that, because Mariah was on the ledge. "She's on the roof." Eliza looked up with a look of pure horror on her face. "Oh, my God." She whispered, her voice shaking. "You want I should come with you?" I asked. If she wants me there, I'll be there. I won't say anything, but if she wants me by her side, I will be there. She shook her head. "No. Please, just stay here." She told me as she got out of the car. I got out of the car as 911 pulled up. They were about to go straight in when I said "woah, guys. Give my daughter and niece a chance." They run up there, they're gonna spook her and this whole thing will go up in flames. "That's an EDP up there!" "Yeah, and those are her two best friends who are on their way up to her right now." They all stood their ground. If they go up there right now, they're only gonna make it worse. "Come on, girls." I really believe they can do this.
MY POV
I met Nicky outside the door. She was already shaking from the tears that inevitably left her eyes on the way over. I put my hands on my shoulder to steady her. The last thing Mariah needs right now is to see us scared like this, it could be the thing that pushes her over the edge. "Nicky, we have to stay calm as soon as we get up there, okay? If Mariah sees us all worked up, it could be the thing that drives her over the edge." I know that probably sounded harsh, but it's the truth. And honestly, we need to be ready for whatever is coming our way. She nodded as I wiped the tears from her eyes. I took in a few deep breaths myself. "Okay, let's go." She said. "Act natural." I told her as we went up the stairs. It felt like every step I took up those stairs made my legs become heavier and heavier. If Mariah talked me out of suicide, I have to be able to do the same. When we got to the top, and the door that led to the roof, I put my hand on Nicky's chest to stop her. "Slowly." I mouthed. We nodded at each other. I slowly opened the door, and we emerged outside. I was pretending that the butterflies in my stomach weren't the size of boulders. "Mariah." Nicky said softly. Mariah slowly turned around to face us. "Hey, hoe." Nicky said, giving a wry chuckle. "S-slut." Mariah stuttered. Those were there nicknames for each other. Terrible, right? But, I had never seen Mariah like this; her eyes were glassed over, and cold. Her body was limp. It was like she was already dead. She didn't have the normal, outgoing and loving vibe she used to. There's nothing there anymore and, truthfully, it scared me. This is not going to be easy. "Mariah, you don't wanna do this. We're the 3 musketeers, we're supposed to have a joint wedding." Nicky continued. "I can't, Nicky. I thought I could handle everything life throws at me, but I can't. I'm too tired." "I know you're tired. Everyone gets tired, including me. Even Eliza gets tired." What was that supposed to mean, even Eliza gets tired? If people think I'm rock solid, bulletproof, they are so horribly mistaken it isn't even funny. I get broken so much easier than I let on, and I don't know if that shows strength or weakness. But, moving on. This is about Mariah. "Yeah, well. You guys have a family, parents who love and care about you. You guys have a perfect life." She scoffed. Well, for one thing, I know for a fact that Owen and Shawn love her more than anything, and they would help her through this if she would just ask. And, she cannot seriously say our life is perfect after all of the bullshit we go through. And we fight, we have days we wanna kill each other. It was time for me to pull out the big gun, and let the cat that had been in the bag since a month after my Uncle Joe was killed out. Something only Mariah and I knew. I knew that after this, my family would know. But, if it kept Mariah alive, it was worth it. "M, you know that our life is far from perfect. That is bull shit and you know it. And, for God's sake, the Reagans are your family! We will always be here for you; Nicky and I, my parents, my aunt and our uncle, and our Grandpa and Great-Grandpa. You have the help you need if you'd just ask for it." I said, my voice slowly rising. It's so frustrating that she has the resources, the people who would help her get better, get through it all. But, we can't know if she doesn't tell us. We aren't mind readers. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Eliza. But, I'm done." She scooted forward. "Wait!" I shouted. She stopped. "Do you remember, a month after my Uncle Joe died? You found me outside that abandoned building? I still don't know how you knew where I was, how you found me." I trailed off, took in a deep breath, remembering that painful night, and pushed myself through, even though I felt like I was gonna cry. "I had the pills in my hand, ready to pop them-" I saw Nicky's horrified look, and knew I was going to be in for it later. I wasn't thinking about anyone else, okay? I was being selfish. I know what Mariah is going through; she's not thinking clearly. Because I've been through it, I can say that this is a stupid and cowardly way out, a permanent fix to a temporary problem. "You reminded me of how strong I am. How my family wouldn't want me gone. You said 'I will never give up on you, so don't you dare give up on me.' And you stayed with me, right there, for the whole night talking me out of it. Now, here we are doing the same thing. I'm not leaving until you come down from there." I said. "Don't you dare leave us." Nicky said. "We need you. We all need each other." I commented. Mariah sat there. She looked at me, then Nicky, then the ground. She said. "Nah, I'm nothing. You guys will be perfectly alright without me." And jumped. "No!" Nicky and I screamed as we ran to the edge of the roof, reaching for her even though there was no possible way we could catch her. We looked over, and saw her limp body; her arms and legs bent in impossible ways, and blood spilling everywhere. It was a disgusting sight, and I could have passed out or threw up. "Damn it!" I screamed, slamming my hand on the concrete several times. Nicky collapsed into my arms, a hot mess. I pet and kissed her head. "Shh. Sh. You'll make yourself sick." I said through shaky breaths. I didn't realize how far gone Mariah was, that she couldn't even be talked out of it. She clearly did not want help, and there was nothing I could do. So why do I feel like crap? "I can't believe she didn't listen to us." Nicky cried. I shut my eyes hard. I need to be strong for Nicky right now, she needs me to be. After a few seconds, the door slammed open, and Dad and Uncle Jamie (probably took the call that came over the radio) came running towards us. "Nicky, it's okay." Uncle Jamie whispered to her, grabbing her by her shoulders and gently pulling her off of me. "Oh... My... God." Nicky said through the tears; she was crying so hard, her body was shaking and she was hiccuping. "I know, come on." Uncle Jamie said gently, leading her away. Dad put his hand on the small of my back. I scratched my forehead, trying to process what I just witnessed. Even though I know what just happened and I was hurting like hell, I don't know if the reality of it has hit me yet. And I don't know when it will. About halfway down the stairs, Dad stopped and pulled me into a tight hug. "Just let it all out." He whispered in my ear, holding me tight and rubbing my back. I felt the tears coming on, and coming on strong. I did not want to cry right now, I was so not in the mood to cry right now. This is about Mariah and her family, not Nicky and I. I pushed away from Dad and said "Um, Dad. I'm-I'm fine." I shakily told him, avoiding eye contact. I am so incredibly far from okay. I always thought Mariah, Nicky and I would be there for each other our whole lives. That Nicky, her and I would be standing up by each other on our wedding days. That our kids would grow up together and be best friends. And instead, Nicky and I have to bury our lifelong best friend. I don't know what we're gonna do without her. How we're going to move on. But we're going to have to. And we're just starting to somewhat get over Uncle Joe, too. And now this? This is so overwhelming. He put his hands on his hips and said "like hell you're fine." I looked up at him with wide eyes. I was hoping he would buy it. I just didn't want to admit out loud that I wasn't okay. And I don't want to talk about it, if I never stop talking about it I will never stop crying. I'll grieve in my own way, and that has to be allowed. "Eliza, you just watched your best friend die. You're not okay, and that's okay." He said to me in the most soft and gentle voice I've ever heard out of him. This coming from the man who will never, ever admit to anyone that he is not okay, except maybe to Mom. When he talked to me in that tone, it made me realize how much I was really hurting; there was a 50 pound weight on my heart, and I felt like someone had just stabbed me and left me there to die. I shook my head. Saying that I watched her die makes it sound like she was murdered, like someone did this to her. Like it wasn't a choice she made. Like this all couldn't have been avoided if she had just reached out. "I did not watch her die!" I shouted. "I watched her kill-" I stopped in my tracks; I could no longer speak, the tears were now coming on so strong they were blocking my throat. My whole body instantly felt weak, like lead. I was practically hyperventilating. I collapsed into my Dad's arms right as the tears came on full force, and we sank to the ground. It's like I didn't have the strength to stand anymore. This has completely crushed Nicky and I. And I'm sure Dad is upset too. I crumbled. Like the rest of my world had in just a couple of minutes. He held me while I cried hysterically. The last time I cried this hard, I was singing at my uncle's funeral. "Sh. I got you." He said, kissing and petting my head. I felt dizzy and disoriented.
DANNY'S POV
I've seen a lot of people take their own lives in my nearly 15 years as a police officer, but it's never been someone that my daughter and niece grew up with. It's never hit so close to home. I hate so much that she had to see that. My heart was definitely hurting, but I can't let that show, Nicky and Eliza are gonna need me, the whole family, right now more than ever. It's so tolling trying to talk someone out of committing suicide, and it's even worse when it doesn't work. "I know it hurts." I whispered in her ear. I honestly don't even know what to say, I'm not good with the emotional stuff, that's Linda's job. But, I at least have to do the best I can. "I tried to save her!" She said through the tears. I understand what she's going through, I know how freaking painful it is (granted, I've never personally known the people I talked to). I also know that there's nothing anyone can do or say to make this better right now, and it's just going to take time. All I can do is make sure I'm there for her. Things like this usually start a chain reaction, but there is no way that's happening this time. I'm gonna keep a close eye on both of them, and ask the rest of the family to do the same. This next few months are going to be rough. I took her head in my hands and made her look at me. Blaming herself is only going to make things worse. And besides, it wasn't her fault. And I'm going to make sure she knows that. "Hey, you did everything you could. You tried to help her, to save her, she didn't want it." Mariah was clearly too far gone, past the point of help. But, that's not going to be a comfort to Nicky or Eliza, or Owen or Shawn. We sat against the wall in silence for about 3 minutes, while I held her as she cried. I wish I knew what to do. I wish none of us had to go through this, but, we are. And all we can do is take it, and use it to make ourselves stronger. One thing I do know, good times and bad times, they come to all of us. What counts is how we take them, what we let those times do to us. That's what's important. Today definitely did not turn out how I pictured it. But, you know what they say; if you wanna make God laugh, then all you've gotta do is tell Him your plans. As much as I hate to do this to her, but I have to take her down to the precinct to make a statement and fill out a witness report. It's a horrible time but, I know she'd want to get it done and over with. The faster we can get all of this stuff taken care of, the sooner the healing process can begin. "Hey, we do have to get down to the precinct, and fill out a report." I told her gently. She stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. I handed her a handkerchief, and she blew her nose. She softly nodded her head and said "Okay." In a barely audible whisper. I walked her down the stairs and out to the car, and I could tell that the adrenaline was still pulsing through her body, she was shaking so bad. I kept my hands in fists so that people couldn't see my hands shaking. I could never have imagined that her or Nicky would have to go through something like this. It's life altering. They'll never be the same. We drove over to the precinct in silence. Eliza just stared out into the distance, her eyes cold. I wanted to take all of the pain away from her, but I can't. I took a couple of deep breaths to keep calm, because this was not the time to lose my cool. We arrived at the precinct, meeting Nicky and Jamie. "You girls ready?" Jamie asked. Her and Nicky looked at each other and shook their heads. "Of course we're not. " Nicky said. "But, if we waited until we were ready, it will never get done." Eliza added. I know what they mean. We're hardly ready for the hard things, the big things, the life changing things. But, they're essential. Before they were taken back, I told the girls "make sure you don't leave anything out. Any small detail you can remember, write it down." They nodded at me. "Maybe you guys can come back with us?" Nicky asked. "Course we can." Jamie said. They filled out the report, including in it the text Mariah sent, and how they hadn't heard from her all day. They put them in different rooms, and for a little bit, I stood outside watching both of them. Then they wrote down the whole event, how it all went down. I could tell it was painful for them. I walked into Eliza's room, Jamie was with Nicky. As she were filling out the report, I told her that I was going to step outside to make a phone call. "You gonna be alright?" I asked her. "Yes, Dad." Didn't wanna leave her if she still needed me. I stepped out into the hall and called Linda. It rang twice. Danny. Please don't tell me you're calling why I think you're calling? She sounded distressed. Wow, word's gotten around that quick, huh? "What are you talking about, babe?" I asked her. I just heard about a suicide named Mariah Lunceford. It has to be a different Mariah than Nicky and Eliza's friend, right? I mean, Mariah and Lunceford are both common names, right? She said, even though she did not sound convinced. I sighed a big sigh, pinched the bridge of my nose, and said "it is the same one, Linda." I regretfully told her. I didn't like saying it anymore than she liked hearing it. Oh, my god. Have the girls heard, yet? She asked, breathy and like she was about to cry. Linda was really close with Mariah's Mom Isabella, and she was there when Mariah was born. "They, agh, they watched it happen." I told her. What? She asked in clear disbelief. "Mariah sent them a group text, classic goodbye text. They went to her apartment, tried to talk her out of it. It didn't work, obviously." I explained. For a few seconds, the other end of the phone was pure silence. She was no doubt pulling herself together. How are they doing? She asked, her voice shaking. "They're rough. Though, you know, our daughter is our daughter. Tried to hold it all in." I told her. Eliza's gonna put on a tougher exterior, which is something she got from me. She's like emotionally constipated, I swear to God. But I can't say anything. Of course, she did. She scoffed. "Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you tonight. I love you, babe." I said. I love you more. "Love you most." I hung up. I turned around, and Jamie walked towards me. "Hey." He said. I took in a deep breath. "Hey. How's Nicky holding up?" I asked. "Horribly. Simply put. What about Eliza?" He responded. I rolled my eyes, put my hands on my hips and said "she's Eliza." In a whisper. "Trying to be tough." He stated, it wasn't a question. "They're done, should we get them to Dad's?" Jamie asked. "Yeah. Come, on." I said, smacking his chest and leading him back inside. We decided that it would be best if we all went over to Dad's tonight. All of us stick together and get the girls through this first night. An officer walked the girls out. "Okay, they're good to go. You can take them home, now." Jamie and I looked at each other, relieved. "Good. Come on." I said, and we walked out and left. Jamie's boss insisted that he go home early. The drive back was silent.
MY POV
Filling out that witness report was torturous; as if I wanted to relive it all again, give all of the details. But, I knew I needed to. As I wrote out the other report, my stomach felt like I was being stabbed with a hot needle. I felt so nauseous, I couldn't believe what happened these past few hours. Filling out all the paperwork was only about 20 minutes, but it was the most uncomfortable, agonizing 20 minutes of my life. When we were done, the officer walked us out to Dad and Uncle Jamie. I was so thankful that we could go home with them now. I need to have my family around me tonight or I will not get through it. When we got to Grandpa's house and walked in, everyone was staring at Nicky and it's like they were seeing ghosts. Which, to be fair, in ways, we were. The last thing we needed was people looking at us like that; with pity, like we were made of glass that would shatter any second. We already feel horrible, that just makes it worse. We all stood there in awkward silence for a good 10 seconds. The silence was so painful, I folded my arms hard against my chest, as if that would help. I don't know what to say to them, or what I'm supposed to say or anything. Nicky finally said "you guys need any help with dinner?" breaking the painful silence. I mean, I guess some work could take our minds off of it for a bit. Though, I don't know that I'm really in the mood, and I have no idea how Nicky is. Or maybe she was just asking so they would stop staring at us like that, which I'm thankful for. "You can help us set the table and bring out the food if you want." Aunt Erin said gently. "Great. Come on, Eliza." Nicky said, patting my back. I scoffed. "Sure." Because I can totally focus on eating as if today was just another day. As if we always eat dinner at Grandpa's on a Saturday night, and all of the food is mine and Nicky's favorites; Mac and Cheese, Alfredo, string bean, rolls. Yeah, they're definitely giving us special treatment tonight. And I mean, I know why, but I'm not really sure I like it. It would be better if they all just acted like everything was okay. For me, at least. We sat down to dinner. "I'd like to say grace, if no one minds." I said. We all put our hands together (like, clapped our hands together, we didn't hold each other's hands, we don't do stuff like that.) And we bowed our heads. "Bless us, O Lord, in these gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. And thank you for blessing Nicky and I with a family who raised us to see what and who we are and what we're capable of, and to be brave enough and humble enough to ask for help when we need it. Amen." "Amen." we crossed. Mom said "that was beautiful, sweetie." as Dad rubbed my back. I smiled. I just wanted to thank God for putting us in the family they did. They taught us that it's okay to not be okay, and that there's no shame in asking for help. They constantly show us love and support, and it's done a lot for our confidence and self esteem, even if you can't see it in me right now. Nicky scoffed and my smile disappeared. "What?" I asked her, agitated. What is with her sudden attitude? "It was beautiful? You all but called Mariah a coward." She said. "No, I didn't." I retaliated. Okay so, maybe I was. But she was being cowardice, and everyone here knows it, even Nicky. And I can say that, because I was in her position, and it is the cowardly way out. She took the easy way out and gave up on the biggest fight of them all. Things would have gotten better for her, she was going to do amazing things. But she refused to stick around for all of that. And it didn't take away her pain, it just transferred it to the rest of us. "After she saved your life!" She shouted. I went to go shout back at her, but Grandpa cut me off. "You two. Now is not the time to turn on each other. You need to help each other get through this. That's an order." Grandpa said, putting some alfredo on his plate. "Got it." Nicky and I mumbled in unison. I could punch her in the throat for her bringing up that Mariah saved my life. No one was ever supposed to know about that. The only reason Nicky found out was because she was there tonight. I thought she'd at least be decent enough to keep her mouth shut. She only brought it up because she's pissed at me. I don't care how mad you are at someone, do not throw them under the bus with something personal. "What did Nicky mean, Mariah saved your life?" Mom asked seriously. My eyes went wide, I was hoping that everyone had missed that part. I avoided all eye contact and mumbled. "I'll take about it later." Mom and Dad cleared their throats. I looked up, and everyone was staring at me, not-so-patiently waiting. I swear to God, I could kill her in her sleep, and plead guilty. "Thanks, Nicky." I said, glaring at her. She smiled at me menacingly. She can be such a bitch. I knew I had no choice, so, I explained everything. Incredibly unwillingly. "About a month after Uncle Joe was killed, I felt like I had hit an all time low. My life was nothing to me. I thought that, I was-" I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath to steady myself. "I was better off to you guys dead than alive. So, I found some pain meds of Dad's, went to an old, abandoned building and sat down them in my hands. I was so hurt and empty, I couldn't cry. I felt nothing. Mariah was the only one I sent a goodbye text to. Not 10 minutes after I got to there, she was there. I didn't tell her where I was going, no details. But, she found me. She stayed with me all night and talked me out of it." I told them. With every sentence, it felt like it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Please God I'll never have to tell that story again. Aunt Erin started to cry, so did my Mom. "Did you think about the rest of us?" Pops asked. "No, I didn't. Okay? Look, I so don't wanna talk about this." Like I said earlier, I wasn't thinking clearly, my head was so clouded and all I could think about was the pain I was in. It was stupid and selfish and I will never even think about checking out again. For a little while, the only noise was the silverware against the plates. I could not stand this heavy silence, I had to think of something that would get everyone smiling, at least a little. I like to think getting people to smile and laugh is my specialty. "Hey, on a lighter note; on the way to Ground Zero, Dad was singing so out of tune that he sounded like a dying animal. I actually begged him to stop." I said, hoping to get everyone laughing and get the mood lighter. "Hey! I did not!" Dad said, offended. We all couldn't help but laugh so hard that our stomachs hurt. It felt so nice. "I've always said you can't sing, Danny." Jamie told him. "Oh, because you can do so much better?" Dad retorted. "Yes." We all said. Uncle Jamie is such an incredible singer, like, gives you chills incredible. If the NYPD doesn't work out, he should audition for America's Got Talent. Dad just shook his head. "You know, Danny was asked to do a solo in church. But, just once. It was ugly." Grandpa said. That is so horrible! But, I also do not doubt that it's very true. I mean, when he's with family or alone or in the car or shower, by all means, he should sing all he wants. Maybe even with Jackie. But, he should stop it there. I know that probably makes me sound like a terrible daughter but, the truth hurts. "Really?" Mom asked. "When he was 16. His voice hasn't improved." Pops said. "Okay, when did this become a roast?" Dad said. We all looked at each other and chuckled, but dropped the subject. After we ate, Mom and Aunt Erin offered to clear the table. "Uncle Danny, Uncle Jamie, Grandpa, Pops? Can Eliza and I talk to you in the living room?" Nicky asked, skittishly. They all nodded and walked out to the living room. The four of them sat on the stairs and we stood in front of them. "Ask." I mouthed. She shook her head. "No way." she mouthed back. "Just do it." "No, you." We went back and forth. I rolled my eyes. Nicky wanted to know if they remembered what it was like the first time they went through this. Why do I have to be the one to ask if she's really the one who wants to know? Seriously, it's our family, she can ask. But, she refused so, I came out with it. "Do you guys remember the first time you ever tried to talk someone out of suicide, and failed?" It was a minute before anyone spoke. They all looked at each other, deciding who would go first. "1960. A widow who lost her husband and 2 kids in an armed robbery. 54 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday." Pops said. Jamie ran his left hand through his hair. "A month ago. A retired cop with some serious PTSD." "1999. A prostitute who had been sexually assaulted and sold for sex since she was 10. Still clear as day." Dad said, looking down at the floor. "1985. A teenage girl suffering from severe depression and schizophrenia." Grandpa said. Nicky and I looked at each other, and suddenly it was like the wind was knocked out of me. I could tell by the look in Nicky's eyes that this all felt just as real to her as it did to me. I can't believe so many people, including myself, felt that suicide was the only way out. Thank God Mariah talked me out of it, I just wish we could have talked her out of it. "Does it still affect you guys?" Does it get better? Will the hurt ever go away?" Nicky asked. "Sometimes." Grandpa nodded. "Yep." Pops and Dad said. "Absolutely." Uncle Jamie added. "I can't believe this happened." Nicky said in a barely audible whisper. She ran to Grandpa. Grandpa stood up and hugged her. Pops stood up and patted her back. "I know, sweetheart. It's hard." He made her face him. "But, it's like Eliza said during Grace; you have a loving and caring family to get you through this." Then he looked at me seriously. "Both of you." He nodded. "Does it get easier?" Nicky asked. No one answered. Fantastic, because that's so comforting. Maybe it depends on the person. I just have to hope and pray that it does. Then, Aunt Erin popped around the corner and said "Nicky, time to go." Nicky looked like she wasn't ready to, but she knows better than to argue with her Mom. "Bye, Grandpa. Bye Pops." Nicky said, hugging them. "See you, Uncle Jamie. See you, Uncle Danny." Nicky waved to my Dad and Uncle Jamie, then left. They all turned to me, and I did not like the looks on their faces. I was definitely in for a rip. This is so not going to be fun. "Eliza Jessica Reagan. Come here." Pops said in a frightening and serious voice. I slowly walked up to him. He can be absolutely terrifying. Dad says he's seen him drop two perps to their knees with nothing more than the evil eye. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will personally knock you on your behind, and you won't be able to sit for a week." He was dead serious, he had a look on his face that could bring a Navy Seal to their knees with no words needed. I got the message loud and clear that night, but it's even more loud and clear now. "Eliza, if you ever feel like that again, call anyone of us; day or night. Even if we're at work." Jamie said gently. Yeah, right. How am I supposed to bring that up to people? Especially my family? Hey, I'm feeling suicidal, I wanna die and I don't feel I have the energy to go on. Yeah, absolutely not. They need to put themselves in my shoes. "I cause enough problems." I stated. "What do you mean?" Dad asked. What do I mean? Does he need to be reminded of these past few years, more specifically these last few weeks? He knows exactly what I'm talking about. "You know what I mean." I scoffed. "No, I don't know what you mean." He said in sort of a rude tone of voice "Eliza, you're a teenager. Problems are bound to occur. But you are not a problem." Grandpa said. I wish I could believe what he's saying. But, at this point in time, I don't know if I can. I mean, it seems like bad things keep happening around this family, me. God, Mariah is dead. That still doesn't sound like it's coming out of my mouth, even though it's not right now. You know what I mean. "Come on, you two. Let's go." Mom said, popping around the corner. And Mom, Dad, and I left.
DANNY'S POV
When we got home, Eliza went straight to her room without saying a word to either of us. That's so not like her, but I also know that she isn't herself right now, and won't be for a while (and we were just getting her back here, too). I have seen a lot of people waste away from the death of a loved one. They get depressed, and slowly but surely they stop going to work, won't leave the house, they become a ghost themselves; and I wasn't going to let that happen to my daughter. She is not going to go back to who she was right after Joe. But, I'll let her have tonight to grieve and process to the best of her abilities what happened. Linda and I went up to our room and sat on the bed, and started to talk (Linda and I always have at least an hour a day, when possible, to just talk.) "Babe, has Eliza been acting weird to you, weirder than normal? I mean, other than tonight." I asked her. I know that there are things our daughter will tell her mother that she'd never tell me, and maybe I can find out why she's been so jumpy. I mean, obviously she's not okay and isn't acting like herself right now, but that started before Mariah's death. She's been like this for about a week. So, what gives? She nodded. "What's going on with her?" I said to myself, putting my hands together and rested my head on my fists. Linda kept looking at me with a strange look, I could tell she knew something, but was hesitant to tell me anything. I am so tired of this family keeping secrets, we never used to do that and now it seems like we're doing it all the time. "What?" I pushed, looking back at her. "She-" She sighed. "She asked me not to tell you." She stuttered. I got frustrated, because look what happened the last time she asked someone in this family to keep a secret. I love the girl, but when she asks someone to keep a secret, it does not end well. Because she tends to ask people to keep a secret when she's doing something stupid. "She ask-haven't we learned what happens when she asks someone in this family to keep a secret?" I said, agitated, my voice slowly rising. "Okay, Danny. Calm down." "Then tell me what's going on." She put her hand on my knee and started to rub it. I want to be able to be her father, and help her through this if I can. Even if I'm not good at all with the emotional stuff, there's gotta be something I can do. "Ever since the incident with the bank, she's been having the same terrible nightmare every night. She won't tell me what happens, but, every time she wakes up-" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady her voice. She looked away for a second, then looked back at me with tears in her eyes. "She's convinced that you and Jamie are dead." I sighed. "Why didn't she tell me this?" I asked, half annoyed, half hurt. Jamie and I would not let anything happen to ourselves, we're not putting our family through that again. The amount of nightmares that girl has had since Joe died is alarming. "She felt like she would be burdening you. Believe me, I tried to get her to talk to you." I sat deep in thought. How do I make it so that my daughter isn't afraid to talk to me about anything, no matter what? "Well, I'm gonna go talk to her." I said. "I think that's a good idea." Linda commented. She rubbed my back for a second, then I went down the hall to Eliza's room, passing the bathroom that's between our rooms. I don't know how I'm gonna do this. I really suck at the really deep, heavy, touchy-feely conversations. The best way I know how to do this is to be blunt. I knocked on the door. "Knock knock." I said. She had obviously been crying, which is more than understandable and totally expected. It's just, knowing what I know now, is Mariah the only reason she's crying? She looked up, and said "hey, come in." Trying to act like she's okay. I sat on her bed and put my hand on her knee. "Why didn't you tell me about the nightmare?" I asked, getting right to it. There's no point in beating around the bush; the faster she tells me what's going on the faster I can solve the problem. I solve problems, I like to fix things, that's who I am. She sighed and rubbed her eyebrows. "Mom told you? I'm so sorry, I asked her not to." She told me. "Well, I'm trying to figure out why you didn't tell me." I said, making my confusion clear in my voice. I get that there are things that she will tell Linda and not me but, this is just a nightmare, why couldn't she tell both of us? I know, probably better than most people, how exhausting and damaging dreams can be; I mean, you don't get enough sleep, so you aren't as professional and alert as you need to be, you wake up with horrible anxiety and in a cold sweat, you're paranoid for too long afterwards. And you don't necessarily want to talk about it, but you've gotta get it out of your system one way or another. "I didn't want to burden you. I feel like I already cause you and mom enough problems." Where on earth did she get the idea that's she's causing her mother and I problems? For one, we don't fight in front of her. And two, we do not fight about her, we worry about her, big difference. And that's what we signed up for the day she was conceived. I love her to death, but she can be stupid sometimes. Are there problems with and surrounding her that we get involved with, as her parents? Yes. But does she cause problems between her mother and I? Hell no. "Woah, woah. You do not cause your mother and I problems. Okay?" If I have to get firm to get this imbedded in her head, you better believe I will. "You just, have enough to worry about without adding my problems to the mix." I love her to death, but she's being so annoying right now. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Ay, ay, ay, this girl is giving me such a migraine. Unfortunately, she does not like to talk to people about her problems, what she's going through. It makes her feel exposed and vulnerable, pathetic. I wish she would have taken after her mother instead of me in that sense, because then we wouldn't have this problem. I just hated more than anything that she feels like she can't talk to me, and I don't know how to get it through her head that she can. I leaned in closer to her and said "Eliza, I'm your Dad. I'm always gonna worry about you and want to hear about what you're going through. It's kind of in the job description." She gave a wry chuckle. I tilted my head and looked at her seriously. It won't matter how old or independent she gets, she will always be my little girl and I will always worry about her and be here for her. "No more keeping things from me, got It? If you have a problem, I want you to talk to me." I begged. I got a little sneaky on my part. If Eliza makes a promise like that, one that she has full control over (which, to be fair, she doesn't make promises that she doesn't have control over but, that's not the point), she will do everything in her power to honor that promise, no matter what. She won't not keep it because it goes against what she believes in and was taught. So, I've got her now. "Got it." she said. "Good." "No more secrets." She promised. I think she could tell how serious I was being. Which is good, got my point across. Maybe now we can start getting her back, the real her.
MY POV
Dad doesn't want anymore secrets, huh? Maybe I should tell him about my burns, maybe he can help me get through it. But, how do you explain that to your own father? Oh, and by the way, Dad; I've been struggling way more than I've been letting on, and I've been inflicting physical pain upon myself to take my mind off of the mental and emotional pain. Yeah, right. I know I need to talk to him, because if I had talked to him, or just someone at all, in the first place, it would have more likely than not not gotten this bad. I just gotta figure out how. "I'll see you in the morning, kid." He said, patting my knee and standing up. "Dad?" I stopped him just before he walked out the door. He stopped and turned back to me. "Yeah?" He asked both serious and hopeful. The words got caught in my throat, and my chest got tight enough to cut off my breathing. I can't, I can't do it. I can't tell him I've been hurting myself; he'll kill me, he'll be so mad and disappointed and I can't handle that. Especially not now. But I knew, especially after the conversation we just had, that if I didn't say something, it would raise some serious red flags. "Can I interrupt you and Mom for a minute? I'll explain the dream to both of you." He looked skeptical, like he wasn't sure if that's really what I wanted to say to him, but didn't say it. "Yeah, sure." We walked down the hall to Mom and Dad's bedroom, and we sat down on their bed. My parents looked at me expectantly, even though Mom had no clue what was going on. I took in a deep breath, and began. I so do not want to do this but, anything to get out of having to tell my own parents that I purposely brought a flame to my own skin. The dream will go over much better than that. "I'm in the girl's bathroom at my school, when the emergency alarm goes off. I ignore it, because my school does things like that all the time." They both nodded in acknowledgement and gave me the cue to keep going. It took everything I had to not grab my stomach, because it was in the mother of all knots. The sooner I can get this over with, the better. "I open the door into the hall to go back to class, and I hear this guy screaming, and see him come around the corner with the gun. I try to calm him down, and get him to lower the gun. It almost works, and then you and Uncle Jamie show up, and..." I took in a deep breath. Knowing that I was about to say this out loud made me feel like a total nut. People say that you can control your dreams, I say that's a ginormous fat lie. "And...He...Shoots you and Uncle Jamie in the chest." I said the last 3 words so quickly, I honestly wasn't sure that Mom and Dad had even heard me. I buried my face in my hands. As much as I didn't want to say that to anyone, I just can't deny that I felt a thousand pound weight lifted off of my chest. I don't know that this will stop the nightmare, but I don't feel quite as pathetic. It's just so weird to me that I never had nightmares like this until after Dad was involved in the bank hostage situation. I feel like it would have made more sense for them to start after Uncle Joe died. I don't know though, maybe the full reality of the fact that my Dad is not invincible and really could die at any moment didn't hit me until I thought he was going to. That doesn't explain why Uncle Jamie was in the dream. My phone rang, pulling me back. "Don't even think about answering it." Mom said. "Guys, please. It's Mariah's Dad." They looked at each other, then gestured for me to answer. I can't not answer, his daughter just died. And I was there the whole time. "Hi, Owen." ("Hi, Eliza. How're you holding up?") His daughter just died, and he's asking me how I'm doing? It should be the other way around. But, that's Owen for you. "I'm trying to smile through it like she would want us all to. How are you?" I am so worried about him, and I feel so bad for him. That poor man has been through hell and back more than anyone should. I've gotta do my best to be there for him. We've got to all be there for each other, this is all gonna be a team effort. We're all in this together. He wryly chuckled. ("I wish I could say the same. Anyway, I won't keep you long. I just wanted to ask if you would sing at Mariah's funeral. I've already asked Nicky if she'd give eulogy and she agreed. It's on Monday. So, in two days.") I choked back the tears. Every fiber in my being was screaming at me to say no, to say I just couldn't do it. But, how could I? I can't be thinking about me right now, about my feelings or what I want. If Owen wants me to sing, then I will sing for him. So, against my better judgement, I said "of course. You don't even need to ask." ("Thank you. Goodnight.") We hung up. I slowly brought the phone down. A couple of songs that I could sing immediately came to mind; If I Die Young by The Band Perry, Wind Beneath My Wings by Bette Midler and My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion. I don't know how I'm gonna pick one, and it will be another song I won't be able to hear without crying. "What was that about, sweetie?" Mom asked. "Owen asked me to sing at Mariah funeral, and apparently Nicky is giving a Eulogy." I said, my voice cracking. "When is it?" Dad asked in a whisper. "Monday. When will I accept that this is real life and not some terrible nightmare?" I asked. It's not going to help the healing process, I'll never be able to move on if I can't accept this. Whether I want to or not is completely beside the point, I need to. It took me so long to accept that Joe's death was real, and I don't want to go through that again. It's hell. Plus, if I can't move on, I can't help Nicky or Mariah's family move on. I've got to be strong for them. They need me. We all need each other. "It's gonna take a lot of time. But you'll get there." Dad said, telling me nothing I didn't already know. "I'm so lucky to have you guys as my parents. I love you so much." They've always been by my side through everything I've gone through and given me everything I needed. Whether that be just a comforting word, a hug or the blunt truth, they've always been there for me and I take advantage of that way too much. "We love you, too. Eliza. More than anything." Mom said. "We're always here for you." Dad added. I know they are. I know I can count on them. Despite what happens in the world, in my life, I know my family always has my back. And that's all I need to know.
TIME SKIP TO FUNERAL
I was up in my room getting ready. I was hoping it would be a long time before I did this again. And never could have imagined it would be Mariah. Dad, Uncle Jamie, Grandpa, Mom, anyone else. Mariah never crossed my mind. I barely slept last night; I was tossing and turning all night, I was replaying the day Mariah died and all of the memories we've shared in my head until I cried. And then I obviously couldn't sleep because I was crying. I think I was subconsciously doing everything in my power to push this day as far out as possible. But, that can only last for so long. There's a viewing a few hours before the funeral, Owen wanted to have both the viewing and the funeral on the same day, because he felt that 2 separate days would make it more painful. Deciding what to wear to a funeral is one of the hardest things ever, I swear to God. You have to make sure it's appropriate and not too loud. I went into my closet, and found a black, knee length dress with flower lace long sleeves. A small smile crept across my face as feelings and memories flooded me. I decided to wear this one, because it was Mariah's favorite on me. She said it made me look sexy. I let out a small chuckle as I remembered the moment she told me that. FLASHBACK: Mariah and I were hanging out in my room, just chilling out and having fun. We had just got done with a really big math test and we had been stressed beyond words for weeks. But, one really fun but still slightly stressful thing that was coming up was a huge choir performance that would determine if we made it to the national finals or not. It would also determine whether or not I would get a solo at the finals. So, it was of course super exciting and I felt so blessed to even be considered for the opportunity. But, it was also terrifying because this was huge for me. My Mom had just got me this dress for it, because I wanted to blow everyone away in every way, shape and form. This had to be the best performance yet. I decided to put the dress on, because the performance was only a couple of days away and I was too excited to wait until then to put the dress on for the first time, and I wanted to show her, because she would be totally honest with me about how it looked. I went into the bathroom to change, mainly because, not gonna lie, I kind of wanted to make a dramatic entrance. I walked out slowly, unsure of what to think. Mariah clapped her hands around her mouth and shouted "hot damn, sexy!" I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but also blushed a little. I thought sexy was a bit far. "Shut up." I said, admiring myself in the mirror. I actually did feel like I looked beautiful; curl my hair and do my makeup, add some heels and I'm going to blow them away. But, looking great won't mean a thing if I screw up my solo. My voice cannot crack, I cannot forget any of the words, it has to be the best performance that I have ever given, I have to give it everything I've got and then some. "You're going to nail your solo." Mariah said, almost as if she was reading my mind. I grabbed my stomach as my heart dropped into it and the butterflies made it impossible to breath. "I really hope so." I said in a barely audible whisper. If I won this, it would be a dream come true. It would make me feel like all of the hard work, long hours and singing lessons were worth it. As much as I'm doing this for myself, I'm also doing it for all of the people who have been by my side and supported me throughout this whole journey of mine. If I win, I'll be winning for myself and them. Mariah walked up to me and grabbed my hand and made me face her. "You will nail this. And, hey. I'm your biggest cheerleader. I'll be right there in the front row, cheering you on and keeping you calm." I felt like that was all I needed, to know that my friends and family believed in me. "I can always count on you." I told her. Even when I felt like no one else had my back, I knew, without a doubt that she did. I would have trusted her with my life. There was no one else on this planet like her. "I'll always be here for you, I promise." She promised as she hugged me tight. And I knew that she was, and that this solo was going to be the best one yet. BACK TO THE PRESENT: Dad knocked on my bedroom door, pulling me back to the present. I don't know what it is with me, but it seems like everytime I'm getting ready for a funeral, I zone out so deep. I guess I just get so caught up in the memories that I forget that that's all in the past. I continued staring at myself in the mirror, almost like if I stared at it long enough, it would suck me through to that time. Back to simpler times, the good old days. Back before my life went to hell and everything changed. "She promised me she'd never leave." I whispered. How could she break her promise to me? How could she leave us all like that? I've been in her position; wanting to end it all, but, having made it past that, I don't understand how she could have gone through with it. I didn't expect him to respond, because there was no response. I know I probably made that really awkward, and I didn't mean to. My mind is still not all the way here. He kissed my cheek. "Ready to go?" He asked. Going to the funeral will make this all real so, no, I'm not ready. But, I have to go, because if we waited until I was ready, we'd never show up. Nothing could prepare me for this. "As ready as I can possibly be for something like this." I admitted. I took in a shuddered breath. It seems like just yesterday we were driving over to Uncle Joe's funeral, and I'm here again. I'm gonna try not to cry until after I've sang my song. I also asked Owen if I can say just a few words after, and I'll either make it through the song and start crying then, or I'll already be crying from the song. So, I'll guess we'll see which one happens. "It's gonna be alright, come on." He said, and led me downstairs. Mom was wearing a black, simple, high-low dress, and of course Dad was in his dress blues. Mom looked at me with tears in her eyes, and I had to look away from her so I wouldn't cry. "You look great, sweetie." She said. I felt weird having her compliment how I was looking. I mean, it's a funeral, not really the time to be complimenting how someone looks. But, I didn't want to be rude, either. Because, it's not the appropriate time for that, either. So, I just mumbled "thanks." "We should get going." She said, and we all silently drove over. The whole way over, I kept trying to really, truly wrap my head around the fact that Mariah is dead; that she's gone, she's never coming back. But it wasn't working. What it was doing was making this ache in my stomach closer and closer to unbearable. Nicky and I never apologized to each other from the fight the night Mariah died, haven't really spoken to each other since. But, for Mariah's sake, I'm going to at least bury the hatchet. I can't say Nicky will do the same. Though, I'm sure she will. As we drove past all of the skyscrapers and buildings that were slightly shorter than them, I thought about how much Mariah loved big cities and tall buildings. When we were younger, she would talk about standing on their roofs and reaching for the sky, grabbing the stars and bringing them down here. And I would tell her that that's impossible, because if you reached too much, you'd fall off. She would tell me to just believe. God, what I wouldn't give to have her tell me she wants to bring the stars down to us one more time. I wish she would've remembered that day, remembered that she could have reached for the sky. Maybe she would still be here. "Hopefully I won't forget the words." I said, thinking out loud. "You're gonna do just fine, Eliza." Dad reassured me. When we arrived at the church, people were already starting to pile in. I couldn't believe how many people were here, I knew Mariah was loved, I guess I just never realized how loved she truly was. But, I'm not surprised. The whole family came and Nicky and I stared at each other awkwardly. I guess I'll apologize first. "Nicky, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so sassy with you." I said. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so rude. We're both having a hard time." She said. Okay. So we both admitted we were wrong, and now we can leave that behind us and move on. I looked at the chapel, and it was completely gorgeous. It was the perfect place to remember Mariah. I couldn't believe what a scene it was, she would have loved it. "Guess we can't avoid going in any longer." Nicky pointed out. "You girls are going to do great." Grandpa said. I sure hope so. We walked up the steps, and Owen greeted us. "Where's Shawn?" Dad asked. Owen put his hands in his pockets, looking even more uncomfortable than before. I have no doubt that Shawn is taking this really hard, he and his sister were as close as close can get. Knowing him the way I do, he probably blames himself for it, because he always felt it his job to look out for and protect his little sister. But it is so not his fault, it's none of ours. "He, uh. He's inside." Something told me that there was more going on but, I definitely was not going to push it. Not the appropriate time or place. "I'm sorry for your loss, Owen." Grandpa said. "We all are." Pops added. I've always found that phrasing odd, I'm sorry for your loss. Because that implies that it's something they could find and get back. When people die, they're gone forever. There's no getting them back. "Thank you. Please, come in. We'll get started soon. I've reserved the front row for you and us." He said, gesturing us in. When we walked into the church, the vibe was so heavy. Mariah's casket was up front where everyone could see. It was a sleek, shiny black with silver lining it and red velvet on the inside. "Why don't you girls go and see her. We'll go take our seats." Aunt Erin said. Nicky and I slowly walked up to her casket and looked in. She looked so peaceful, almost like she was just sleeping. Her arms crossed across her chest. "I'm gonna miss her." Nicky said. I cleared my throat to choke back the tears. "Yeah, me, too. Mariah, you were a pain in my ass. Keep an eye on us, okay?" Nicky and I squeezed each other's hands tight. I can't believe it's over. My stomach is killing me, I have no idea how I'll be able to sing. Nicky took in a shuddered breath. "You know that if Mariah caught us feeling sorry for ourselves, she'd kick our asses, right?" I told Nicky. Seriously, Mariah would smack us silly if she saw how we've been acting the past few days. Despite the fact that I'm still angry with her, I'm trying to act how she would have wanted me to. "Right. Goodbye, Mariah." Nicky said, then went to sit down. "See you on the other side." I told her, then went to sit down. I sang If I Die Young by The Band Perry. When I walked onto the stage and saw everyone staring up at me, I almost lost my composure completely. But, I had to stay strong and sing this song; it was one of her favorites and I can't think of a better way to remember her. That's not to say it wasn't very hard, I had to keep my eyes closed hard the majority of the time, and I felt the tears running down. I replaced "mother" with "father" when I sang "Lord make me a rainbow I'll shine down on my father (it's originally mother) and replaced "he" with "she" when it's "he'll (supposed to be she) know I'm safe with you when he (she) stands under my colors). And when I sang "funny when you're dead, how people start listenin." I almost lost it. It took all of the strength I had in me to finish that sentence, then I had a few seconds between that line and the rest of the song to compose myself. I hated myself for clearly missing something, not reading in between the lines. And now, it was too late. All of the memories that we made together started flashing through my head; all of the sleepovers, the movie dates, just hanging out and talking. She was always the life of the party, just so much fun to be around. I'm gonna miss it so much. This was the first time I've sang since Uncle Joe's funeral. Did I ever mention he was killed a month before my birthday? And now, my best friend had taken her life 5 months before. Anyway, after I had finished the song and the music stopped, I said a few words. "Mariah was the one that you would go to if you needed honest advice. She had a beautiful soul and the most contagious smile, you couldn't help but be happy around her. She had the dumbest jokes out of anyone I know (seriously, they were worse than Dad jokes), but they also cheered you up like nothing else could. Heaven gained an angel, and the world lost a fighter. I love you, Mariah Jane Lunceford. See you on the other side." Nicky gave a beautiful eulogy, along with Mariah's brother Shawn, and their father. Honestly, after all of us finished, I don't think there was a dry eye in the room. Just remembering Mariah and what she meant to all of us and agreeing with what everyone was saying, it was definitely very emotional. And when the bagpipes started playing, I almost lost my damn mind. I don't know why, but bagpipes are super depressing. Dad had squeeze my shoulder tight to help me keep my composure. I feel like being in between my parents was really helpful in keeping my composure, at least, the best I could. I still cried pretty hard, of course. After the funeral, Owen came up to us and gave us a soft smile. His face was tear streaked and his body was shaking. I can't even imagine what he's going through; losing his wife and his daughter in such a short amount of time. No one should have to go through that. Parents should not have to bury their children, it's not right. Especially not like this. He gave Nicky a big, tight hug. "Those were absolutely beautiful words, Nicole. Mariah would have been flattered." Owen is the only one allowed to get away with calling Nicky Nicole, especially today. She hates being called Nicole by anyone else, but Owen has been allowed to without her getting mad for as long as I remember, and I have no idea why. And, even if he normally couldn't, she was not going to correct him today. "Thank you, Owen. Thank you for letting me speak." Nicky said, trying to hold back the tears for him. But, she's never really has been good at that. "Of course. And, Eliza." He turned to me and gave me a big hug. "Always did have one of the most beautiful voices." I blushed a little. I don't know, it just feels weird being complimented, today of all days. But, I am also going to take that as I didn't screw up. "You're too sweet." I told him. Then he turned to Grandpa (Grandpa mentored him as a troubled teen back in the day, it's how we all met) and shook his hand. "You've got yourself some pretty remarkable granddaughters, there, Frank." He said. "Oh, tell me something I don't know." Grandpa said, smiling. I'm glad that Grandpa was able to get him off the road he was on, to save him. People think of cops as the bad guys, but the success stories like these almost never make the news. Not only was Owen's life turned around and made so much better, it also gave Mariah and Shawn life. It's remarkable. "If there's anything we can do." Aunt Erin said gently. If there is anything, and I mean anything that he needs, he knows that all he has to do is ask and we will be right there, ready to do whatever. "It'll, uh, It'll just take time." He said awkwardly. It's hard to say what people can help with in a situation like this, other than be there for you. "Why the hell is she still here?!?" We heard someone yell. We looked behind Owen and saw Mariah's brother, Shawn. He was red in the face, and you could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. The vein was popping out in his neck, I had never seen him so furious. "Who?" Nicky asked. Owen ran up to him to try and push his son back, but he fought him. "I want her gone!" Shawn shouted. "Shawn, I told you not to do this here." Owen shouted, still pushing his son back. How could Shawn be so mad right now? Who could possibly have him so mad at his own sister's funeral? You think he would be crying and grieving, not looking like he's out to kill. "I don't care!" Shawn screamed as he fought past his Dad and came practically barreling towards me. He's about 6ft tall, so he was looking down on me; both literally, and apparently, figuratively. "It's time for you to go." He said, shooting daggers at me. I was taken aback. What the hell did I do? I sang an appropriate song, yes, it was depressing, but what other song could you sing for a funeral? And I didn't say anything that Mariah wouldn't have wanted me to say. So, what's his problem? "Me, why?" I asked, shocked. "Because you killed my sister!" He screamed in my face, and I stopped breathing. So, there is someone out there who blames me for Mariah's death. I was hoping that no one would. I still blame myself, but I'm also trying to remember that I tried with everything I had to stop her. But, she was too far gone and there was nothing I could have done. Shawn clearly doesn't see it that way, and I can't remember my feelings ever being so hurt. "Hey, your sister jumped off a roof, she killed herself." Dad said, clearly peeved. I don't need him to fight this battle for me. I can't let him fight this for me. This is something Shawn and I have to work out on our own. "Yeah, well. She talked you out of taking the pills. Why couldn't you talk her out of jumping?" His voice began to crack. I tried to remind myself that he's in a lot of pain right now; he's grieving, he's angry. And he's looking for someone to place blame on. And there's no way he'd blame Mariah, that's his sister and she means everything to him. He's saying stuff he doesn't mean right now, and I have to be patient with him. I took in a deep breath, so that I wouldn't lose my temper and make things worse, and said; "I tried to, Shawn. Nicky and I both did. But, she didn't want to be talked out of it. She didn't want help." my voice was slowly rising. He doesn't think I'm in pain, too? That I'm not hurting so much on the inside that it makes me sick to my stomach sometimes? We're all going through this together, and he needs to remember that. "That is such bullshit. You didn't even try, Eliza!" "Shawn Nathaniel Lunceford, that is quiet enough out of you! Go wait in the car." Shawn glared at his father, took one last destroying glare at me, then left. How could he say that me? How could he say that I didn't try? He wasn't there, he has absolutely no idea what Nicky and I went through. I tried every way I knew how to get her to step down off of that ledge. I mean, even still looking back on that day, I have no idea what I could have done differently. If I had run to her she would have jumped faster. Owen turned to me. "Eliza, I am so sorry. He didn't mean any of it, he's just hurting." He said. "Of course, we all are. It's fine." I said, forcing a smile. I know that's the truth. Doesn't make it hurt any less. I feel like I've been stabbed. "Well, I should go. Goodbye, Reagans." Owen waved goodbye to us all. There was an awkward sort of pause. That was a huge blow to me; I've looked up to Shawn my whole life, I've tried to make him proud. And now I feel like he hates me, and probably will for a really long time, until he gets over this. Unless he never does and never speaks to me again. And I don't know if that would kill him as much as it would me. I would have lost 2 of my best friends, and I can only take so much. And so can he. "Well, dinner's not gonna eat itself, is it?" Grandpa said after Owen left. I'm not hungry at all right now. I feel like if I eat, I'll puke. Regardless, we all went into our different cars and took off. This day has been pretty horrible all around; I mean, it was nice to see Owen, though the circumstances could not have been worse. And I assumed it would be nice to see Shawn. I thought we'd hug and comfort each other, be there for one another. Instead, he chewed me out and made me feel even worse. I get that he's grieving and going through a lot but, I am, too. And it would be nice if we could support one another instead of tearing each other down. I won't tear him down, but if he thinks he can get away with this, he's got another thing coming. "Why don't you girls just go sit down? Linda and I can set the table by ourselves today." Aunt Erin said. That sounds good to me. Honestly, right now I'm so out of it and unfocused that I'd probably drop something. Me, Nicky, and the rest of the family sat down at the table, and at first, no one said anything. I certainly didn't know what to say. I was afraid to open my mouth because I knew I'd start crying. And I've done enough of that today, I wouldn't be surprised if my eyes had run dry. "You girls are gonna be okay." Uncle Jamie said. I know I will be, eventually. It just seems so far away right now. "Course they will. Their tough as nails." Pops said. Nicky and I gave each other a look of he is so wrong. Seriously, I don't think I'm tough as nails. Maybe as tough as a toothpick. "I don't know about that." Nicky said, breathing in deep. "I do." Grandpa said seriously. Mom and Aunt Erin walked in and placed the food around the table. I didn't eat breakfast so it all looked even better than it normally does. But my stomach was still churning so bad that I didn't know if I'd be able to eat without throwing up. I'll have to force myself to, though. "Nicky, I'd like you to say grace." Unless someone volunteers to say grace, Grandpa picks who says it. That's how it's always been. "Bless us, Oh Lord. In these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord, amen." Honestly, I'm not feeling too thankful right now. I'm so mad at everything. This anger inside of me, it's frightening and it's terrifying. But I don't know how to stop feeling like this. I don't like it, at all. "That was a lovely funeral." Mom said after grace. I feel like that sentence in and of itself was an oxymoron. How can a funeral be lovely? For God's sake, someone died! And all of their loved ones gather together to mourn and be sad by all of the memories knowing that they'll never experience those again. "That girl was definitely loved." Aunt Erin commented. "Yeah, it's just too bad she couldn't see it." Uncle Jamie said. The thing is, I think she could see it. She just didn't care. She was so focused on herself and how she was feeling, what she was going through and not thinking about anyone else. Not remembering that Owen lost his wife and Shawn lost his mother, too. I don't know what the tipping point for her was, but it wasn't lack of love or people being there for her. "I'm thinking about doing a candlelight vigil this weekend." Nicky said. That would be a really beautiful thing. Something for just her friends to come together and bring mementos, sharing memories about her. That'll be emotional and there will be tears. "That's a good idea. I see a lot of those." Dad commented. I could tell everyone was staring at him, because it went quiet for a minute, and then he said "what? It's not like I want to but, unfortunately, sometimes it comes with the job." I wasn't paying much attention, I was zoned out, staring into the distance. I obviously was catching the conversation and actually listening to some parts, but not really actually paying attention. I couldn't stop thinking about what Shawn had said, that look of pure hurt and anger in his eyes, piercing my soul. Was he really just hurt, and it was his feelings getting to him, which isn't normal for him, or did he really mean what he had said? Did he really blame me for Mariah's death? He was acting as if I pushed her over the ledge. I watched her fall, I saw her body crunch and bend as it hit the ground. How could he possibly blame me, just because I was there? So was Nicky, so how come I'm the only one he got mad at? It makes no sense. "Eliza, let someone else get a word in, and don't eat all the food." Grandpa said sarcastically. I hadn't touched my food at all. I didn't respond to him. I wouldn't be able to blame Shawn if he meant what he said and now hated me. Did Owen hate me, too? What if Owen secretly blames me, too? Hates me because I wasn't able to talk his daughter out of killing herself? I couldn't bear it. Shawn hating me would destroying me enough, it's all I can take. All of the sudden, I felt someone pinch my knee, and it could only have been Dad, because he's the only one sitting next to me. It was a painful sting. "Ah! What?" I asked. That was uncalled for. Seriously, was that necessary? "We've all been trying to talk to you." He pointed out. "I'm sorry, guys. I can't stop thinking about what Shawn said. I'm trying to not let it get to me, because I know he's hurting. But, part of me can't help but feel like he's right." I said. "Well, he's not." Pops said, a little too loud. I know he's not right. But, like I said, there's that small part of me that wonders if he is? Maybe I didn't try hard enough. Maybe I really could have saved her. Maybe. Maybe Shawn has every reason to hate me. "Eliza when we're in a lot of pain, emotionally, we tend to lash out on those we love most. You 4 were like siblings." Grandpa said, with a serious look on his face. "That doesn't help at all. If that's true, why didn't he yell at Nicky? She was there, she tried to save Mariah, too." I said, using every ounce of strength I had to not raise my voice at the dinner table, because I would find out what Pop's slapper against skin felt like if I did. But honestly, if that's the route Shawn wants to go down, he had best blame Nicky as much as he does me. Because we were both there and we both tried. I don't want him to blame or hate either of us. They all smirked at one another, and then me. I looked at them, confused. Then, it was like a light was turned on. I highly, highly doubt that Shawn has a crush on me. And if he does, he has a hell of way of showing it. Who chews out the person they like like that? "Oh, what? Are you guys trying to tell me that Shawn attacked me and not Nicky at the funeral because he has a crush on me?" I asked, partly annoyed, partly excited. I've had a crush on Shawn for about 2 years. But I never expressed it because he's like my big brother, and I didn't want to ruin the relationship that we already had. They all smirked at me again, and they were clearly trying to stifle some laughs. I hate them. They are so far off they're on the other side of the world. "Yeah, right." I said sarcastically. Then, there was a knock at the door. We all looked at the door. I felt a ping of fear in my chest. Please, for the love of God, do not let that be Shawn. I can't deal with this right now, I don't want to face him right now. I feel like if I do, I'll do or say something I regret. And as much as I wish I could, I can't bring him down the way he did me. "You expecting someone, Francis?" Pops asked. "Not me." Grandpa responded. "Maybe it's Sydney." Nicky said. "No. Sydney won't be coming back. Maybe it's a visitor for Eliza." Uncle Jamie said, quickly adding the last sentence. Um, am I the only one who caught the fact that he said Sydney won't be coming back? Why? He smirked. I put my face in my hands. "Oh, my God. You guys are the worst. I'll get it." I said, standing up. "I'll go with you." Dad said. "No, you will not." Mom said, pushing him back down into his chair. Yeah, absolutely not. I don't need or want him out there with me. This is my battle, and just don't need him to fight it for me, even though I know he wants to. I went to open the door, slowly, and, sure enough, there was Shawn, staring at me with puffy red eyes and a tear streaked face. I straightened my posture and said "Shawn." stiffly, keeping my guard up. "Can we, can we talk?" He asked, choking up. The last person in the world I wanted to be alone with right now was him. After the way he treated me, he really thinks he can just show up at my doorstep and expect me to want to talk to him? No. But maybe he could put my anxiety and fears at ease. Or he'll confirm that he really does hate me. There's no telling which way this conversation will go. I looked back at my family, stepped outside, and closed the door behind me. "What's up?" I asked, folding my arms. "I am so sorry." Was all he said. I was waiting for more, so when he didn't say anything else, I asked "what for?" I was going to make him say it. I'm going to make him flatout admit that he shouldn't have acted the way he did or treated me the way he did. "How I acted towards you at the funeral today." He admitted. I scoffed. "You really hurt me." I told him. And I just don't think that I'll be able to forgive him for a bit. I will forgive him, because I really believe that forgiveness is for yourself, not the other person. But, I was also taught that you're not always going to be able to forgive people right away. Sometimes it'll take time, and that's perfect okay. "I know. Mariah was my baby sister and it was my job to protect her, and I failed. But I should not have taken it out on you." He started to cry. He didn't fail her, none of us did. She failed herself. She's the one who gave up. I totally get where he's coming from, though. I feel the exact same way, even though I know it's not true. But, I have survivor's guilt, I guess. She was able to save me and I wasn't able to save her. I lifted up his head to face me. "Hey, you did not fail her. we didn't fail her." I was saying this to him just as much as I was to me. "When someone's mind is made up that they're not going to live anymore, there is no changing their minds. Especially with how stubborn she was. It was her fault, no one else's." I added. "Well, at least I've got one more little sister to look after. Nicky." He said. "Oh, you think of Nicky as a little sister, but not me? Geez, thanks." Now I'm really offended. I thought the 4 of us were all siblings in every way except blood for Nicky and I. Apparently it was only Nicky for him. "I used to feel that way about you, too. But, that all changed a year ago." He went leaned in to kiss me, but I placed my hand on his chest to stop him. "Shawn, you're really vulnerable right now. We both are. I know we have to help each other through this, but, not like this." I told him. I want more than anything to kiss him, to feel his soft lips against mine. But, I have to know that his feelings are real, and not just because he needs comfort right now. I can't and won't let my heart and emotions be played like that. I'm going to keep it protected. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Did I just totally embarrass myself? You don't feel the same, do you?" I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip. I've never told anyone that I like them before. How am I supposed to start now? On the night of my best friend's funeral? "I do. But I have to know that this is you and your real feelings talking." He placed his hand on my cheek and caressed with his thumb. "I promise you, it is. I'm just a chicken and didn't have the courage to tell you." "So, why now?" Why when our hearts are at their most vulnerable? When our emotional state is weakened? It's so not the time. He let go of me and said "because losing my sister made me realize that tomorrow is never a guarantee." I took in a deep breath. It's true, you never know when your life is over with. Never take your life for granted, and never dread growing old. Because it's a privilege denied to many. Except it wasn't denied to Mariah, she robbed herself of that. "Me, too." Then, he grabbed my face with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around my waist. He slowly pulled me in, and our lips slowly connected. His lips were soft, and it felt like home. It was a kiss that made me forget how to stand. His lips were like silk, and it felt like an eternity, but also a split second. For being my first kiss, it was mind-blowing and life changing. My knees went weak, but he caught me before I fell. "Thanks for catching me." I said. "Always." He told me. He walked away, and I hated seeing him leave. I don't want this feeling to end, to keep him in my arms, I'd do anything.
DANNY'S POV
"Oh, my God!" Nicky squealed. We sent her to be the spy, and she was kneeling on the couch in front of the window, with only her eyes visible. We just wanted to make sure that if Eliza was going to need any help, we'd know. No, for real, I wanted to know what was going on between them. Because we all know that they like each other. So, of course someone needs to keep an eye on her. And, Nicky is the smallest. "What?" Jamie asked. "They're kissing!" she squealed again, clearly excited. All of the men at the table stood up like someone lot a firecracker under our butts. No way in hell is my daughter having her first kiss. I mean, now? For the love of God, she's only 15. But, she'll always be a 5 year old girl in my eyes. "Sit down." Linda said firmly. I most certainly will not sit down. My mind is going a million miles an hour and my heart is racing. I don't know what to think of this. "I don't think so. They're kissing!" Dad said, clearly as freaked out as I was. We're all very protective over Nicky and Eliza. Maybe a little too protective sometimes. But, we've raised them and so we have that right. But, we also need to learn to let go and let them experience life. I still think she's too young. But, I did start dating at 16 and she's not too far from there so, I guess I can't really say anything. "Boys, now." Erin said in her Mom voice. I so don't have to listen to her. We all know that if it was Nicky she'd be glued to her side. At least Eliza doesn't know we're watching her. "She's too young for this." Jamie said. "Yeah, I agree." I said. I was freaking out so much internally; my little girl is clearly not a little girl anymore. And another boy was trying to steal her from me. I know Shawn is a good kid, and I know I probably shouldn't worry. But, I'm not gonna be able to stop myself from doing so. I'm a dad, it's what I do. Nicky ran back into the kitchen and said "Shawn just left. She's coming." "Okay, everyone act natural." Linda said. So, we all continued eating and pretended like we had been carrying on in a normal conversation the whole time. Though, I couldn't stop giving her a sideways glance when she came in. But man, she was glowing and smiling from ear to ear. You could tell it was her first kiss, she had that smile. Must've been a good one, too. That better have been her first kiss or I swear to God I'm going to kill her for not telling me. "So, who was it?" Dad asked as casually as possible. "Hm?" Eliza said, clearly in LA LA land. "At the door." I said, trying not to laugh. She was acting like such a goofball, it was hard to not laugh. She was acting like a teenager who has her first serious crush. I remember that feeling, it's like an adrenaline high. "Oh, it was Shawn. Yeah, he came to apologize." She said, trying to act like it was nothing. "Yeah, you sure that's all he came to do?" Jamie asked, chuckling. We all were shaking trying to stifle the laughter, but we were unsuccessful. We all were red in the face. Now that we know, we want her to tell us, because we aren't supposed to know. "What?" She asked, baffled. She looked at all of us individually, and we had almost stopped breathing trying not to laugh. Except for Nicky, she looked excited and jealous all at the same time. Then, I think she realized why we were laughing, and she did not look pleased. "Okay, who was the rat?" She asked, annoyed. "What? No one was a rat." I said, though I wasn't actually trying to lie. She knows us too well. "I think you guys forget that I grew up in this family. I know you all too well. Especially, you two." She said, pointing to Dad and I. "I did nothing." Dad said, sounding offended. She glared at him. "My conscious is clear." He commented. His conscience is clear, because it wasn't his idea, it was mine. And I am not ashamed or sorry. If the situation was reversed and it was Nicky out there, I would have done the same thing. But, we would have had to find somebody else to be the rat, because I know that there's nothing we would have been able to say or do to get Eliza to do it. She turned to me. "I don't see you denying it." She commented. I shrugged my shoulders. "Because I can't." I winked. "It was me. But Uncle Danny made me!" Nicky admitted. Eliza looked at me accusingly. Geez, Nicky. Thanks for throwing me under the bus. Though, it's not like I mind. Because like I said, I'm not ashamed. And if I had to go back, I'd do it again and again. "Hey, you'll always be my little girl. I gotta look out for you." I told her. I love her, and I want to be able to protect her all the time and stop her from ever getting hurt. I know I won't be able to do that, but I will always try. And if he hurts her, I swear to God, I'll kill him. Come on, we all know they're going to start dating. There's no way they won't. She laughed and said "I'm gonna kill you guys." "A Reagan in jail for murder? The press would eat that up." Erin commented. We all laughed at that. Please, it's not in my daughter to murder people. In me, yes. Her? Absolutely not. She can definitely be tough and a little scary, but she has too much of a heart to actually hurt anyone. She definitely didn't get that from me. "So, wait. Uncle Jamie, why won't Sydney be coming?" Eliza asked. Jamie suddenly looked very uncomfortable. He shifted around in his seat and cleared his throat. They broke up. I know it. I can't say I didn't see this coming; everytime I see them together since Jamie came on the job, she's kind of been a second thought to him. Sometimes it's like she isn't even in the same room. And honestly, I never felt that Sydney could marry a cop. She worries too much and would have worried herself to death. I feel terrible for him, because I know that he really loves her and his heart is broken. But, that's a part of life, like it or not. "She called off the engagement. She's going to London for a journalism job." He said as if it was just anything. Choruses of "What?!?" Went around. Even though I knew it was coming, it was still shocking to hear. I thought it would have been a mutual thing. "Why?" Nicky asked, exasperated just like the rest of us. "She decided she didn't want to be married to a cop. Let's talk about something else, okay?" He said. We all stopped talking sort of abruptly, looking at each other awkwardly. So, we changed the subject and just ate dinner. Honestly, I'm not surprised that Sydney broke up with him. I mean, don't get me wrong, they love each other so much. A random, blind stranger could see that. But, it takes a special kind of person to marry a cop, just like it takes a special kind of person to be a cop. And, she would have let the worry and all of the other emotions eat away at her, and they would have ended up resenting each other. And, I think she knew that deep down. This really is for the best.
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Blue Blood Runs Thick
Fan Fiktion***ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO BLUE BLOODS. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING, THIS IS JUST A FAN FICTION.*** Eliza Reagan is the granddaughter of NYC Police Commissioner, Frank Reagan and the only child of the NYPD's best first grade homicide detective, Daniel Reagan...
