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So I stopped depending on them and started to just keep it all inside.

Happy Places

After getting off the phone with Brian, I made the decision to just look away from all that stuff. All the pain and grief. Why bother worrying about it. It wouldn't do me any good. Yeah that sounded good but I knew it wasn't the case. The truth is for the next few days, all I could do was think about Howie. He was so strong. True you couldn't really tell by his appearance but behind that tiny little frame lied an ox. Someone who had the heart of gold but a steel spirit. I thought he would never go down. Yup him going mental had me realizing that I was next. I had too many cards stacked against me.

He called me a couple of times before he was to leave the place and head on home. That was this Tuesday. Almost three days ago. He unfortunately decided he needed a little more time. Brian and I thought it was best not to tell Howie about dad being in the Hope House. I agreed. I wish I didn't know. Ignorance was bliss. If that was really the case than AJ was the happiest guy on Earth! I think he was blissfully unaware of anything going on. He liked it that way.

I'm not sure when I kind of adopted my new bottle everything up inside plan. Maybe it was on my birthday, maybe it was when I found out about Howie, part of me thinks it was always there in place, without my knowledge. But I really did make an educated choice not to let on how unhappy I was anymore. No more complaining, no more crying and no more pity. Self pity or anyone feeling sorry for me. All gone.

If someone asked me how things were I said fine. If someone said how's dad, I would say groovy. I walked down the halls of school with a huge smile on my face. I laughed and joked with people and I tried to forget. Forgetting was good. It seemed to be working anyway. Especially at school. Friends who had shied away from me last year after Mel's death were slowly starting to talk to me again. Even Kelly would smile at me when we passed in the halls. In the matter of one week and one small change, I was getting my life back.¨

Inside I was falling apart though. And I felt bad. Not only mentally but physically. The pains I had in my stomach that I had first chalked up to hunger, than nerves had only worsened making me think it was something bigger. I dare not tell anybody though. Even though I wanted to. Desperately. I kept it in.

I kept it in also when they finally let dad come home. I was hoping that Howie would have been back by then, but no such luck. So Friday came and I was off to pick up dad from the crazy place. Of course with a huge smile on my face.

"Ready to go dad?"

"Yeah just give me a second" He scowled at me. I grabbed his bags and placed them in my trunk. I decided to hum while I waited. Bad thoughts can't seep through when you have silly songs in your head. I found myself humming a tune from a movie "All That Jazz"

My father climbed into the car and looked at me suspiciously, "Are you on drugs?" He asked. I laughed. "No dad why?"z

"You are acting like a fool that's why"

"Oh! Nope no drugs just high on life I guess"

"Oh God your a friggin idiot!" I looked at him and smiled. Then drove him home.

We got in and after lugging his bags in the house I went and turned on the TV for him, pressing mute just the way he liked it and hopped up the steps. When I got all the way up I actually had to sit down for a minute. The pain was so intense. I laid there on the steps just waiting for it to subside. Almost yelling out for help. A few deep breaths later, the pain went away.

Maybe I would just stay in this weekend. Relax and stay in bed. But Kelly had wanted to go out and do something. For the first time since we broke up. She came up to me and winked before slipping me a note during study telling me we should do a movie or something. Would I really be that stupid to cancel on her? The next round of pain in my stomach was the answer I needed. I called and canceled.

I had this pain for over a month now. Maybe more. It seemed to be getting worse and worse. I even thought about calling a doctor. It felt like I was being stabbed in the stomach. That's how intense the pain was. I would have to scream into my pillow until it subsided. Which it always did. I figured as long as the pain eventually went away, there was nothing to worry about. Which was fine until mid Saturday afternoon.

By then the pain was intense and not so quick to subside. I went downstairs. Bent over. Dad was still sitting there watching the television on mute. He watched me as I walked by hunched over.

"Where have you been? Did you just wake up?"

"No, I've been up for awhile" I was searching for aspirin or anything I could take to knock myself out. "What's wrong with you? Why are you walking like an old man?" I really didn't need this right now.

"I'm just not feeling well. Do we have any aspirin?"

"Don't think you're getting out of school! Because you aren't"

"Dad, please. Just leave me alone okay?" He watched me as I continued to look for something to take. I smiled when I found some really old Nyquil. I know it wasn't a cold but it would knock me the hell out. That's all the mattered. I drank it like it was iced tea and made my way back upstairs.

"What are we having for dinner?" He asked me as I walked up the steps very slowly.

"You are on your own dad"

"You're not eating? You usually eat like a God damned pig!"

"Not tonight" Dad watched until I was all the way up.

I made it to my room when I had the urge to vomit. I didn't have the strength to make it to the bathroom so I had to settle for my garbage can. I don't even know what it was that came up considering I had an empty stomach, well besides the Nyquil I had just guzzled. It was brown and looked like coffee. I didn't drink any coffee so I had no clue. I crawled into bed and huddled under the covers in a ball. I suddenly felt very cold. Finally I feel asleep.

I awoke with a start at around 3am on Sunday morning. My dad was sitting on my bed next to me. Just about gave me a heart attack.

"Dad? What's wrong?" He looked normal from his silhouette. He also looked worried.

"Nothing, I..just was wondering if you had a lighter for me"

"What? A lighter?"

"Yes, I need one. Maybe some matches?" I rolled over on my side wincing in pain. "Sorry dad, I don't smoke remember?"

"That's right you are just a pansy ass. I forgot!"

"God please go away!" I felt the bed go up slightly when he stood up to leave. He placed his hand on my forehead. "What are you doing?"

"Just using your head to help me up" I closed my eyes willing him to go away. Then I finally got my wish. He left me alone and once again I fell into a restless sleep.

By Sunday afternoon the pain was too intense for me. I has thrown up three more times in the course of the day. It was getting harder and harder to move. I felt dizzy and weak. It actually scared me. I would have thought it was a stomach virus if it weren't for the pain. By dinner time it was so intense I found myself crying. What was worse was my need to vomit once again. I was so weak that I had to roll out of bed and crawl over to the garbage can. I barely got there I time, when I was done the room started to spin and I fell asleep.

I'm not sure how long I was out for but I knew I needed help. And I needed it bad! Unfortunately dad was the only person I could call on. If I had the strength I would have just gotten into the car and driven myself to the emergency room. I knew that was where I needed to go. But I was just in too much pain, so finally at around 7:30pm I yelled for help. I was still laying on the floor because I couldn't make it to my bed.

"Dad!" I was scared by the weakness of my own voice. It was barely a whisper even though I felt like I was shouting with all my might. I tried again "DAADDY" I called him daddy. Something I would look back on and laugh about. No laughing now though. Only distress. I heard him bounding up the steps but he slowed his pace when he entered my room.

"Why are you laying on the floor?" He shouted at me. I tried to answer but I couldn't, I was too weak. He walked closer and bent down, "Son, what is wrong with you?" I looked up at him and that is when he lost it. Any trace of calmness left his face. He turned and grabbed the phone knocking it to the floor. His hands were shaky as he tried to dial "What the fuck is your brother's number? Nick God dammit tell me his number!" I tried to gurgle out a number but I couldn't.

He sat on the bed and dialed frantically. I heard the ringing on the other end which meant my dad accidentally hit the speaker phone. Probably happened when it fell on the floor.

"Hello?" I recognized Brian's voice.

"Brian!"

"Dad?" He sound horrified and nervous "God dad are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nick!"

"What about Nick?" Panic intensified in his voice.

"He is hurt, he;s sick and bleeding on the floor" I was bleeding on the floor? No, that wasn't right.

"Oh my God, dad what did you do to him. Oh God let me talk to him"

"I didn't do anything but God Brian he needs help. There is too much blood in the garbage can. I think he is vomiting up blood!" Dad was near crying but I was confused. Why was he making up stories?

"Dad let me talk to him" He out the phone by my ear.

"Nick are you there? Nicky?" Brian sounded frantic.

"I...hhh.uur.t" Was about all I could say.

"Nick, Jesus please! Nick!!" Dad grabbed the phone away.

"What should I do?" He cried into the phone at Brian.

"Stay with him. I will call an ambulance for you and then book a flight out there okay dad? Just stay with him"

"Okay I will" Dad was rocking and crying at this point.

"Nicky I am coming Boo, hang on" I heard that as I fell into another restless sleep...