The hiding spot I've chosen is this horrible, awful, dark, sad shed I'm in. I've tucked myself as tightly as possible into the corner. I'm pressing my hand tightly over my mouth to keep myself quiet. I shouldn't cry over this. It doesn't make sense from any perspective to cry over it.

If I want to forgive him, then I should be happy he said that. Not crying.

And if I don't want to forgive him, I shouldn't care at all. I shouldn't give a single crap about him. I shouldn't be crying.

But I can't help it. I'm sobbing and sobbing like a toddler whose momma just threw away all their pacifiers.

I am not Junebug anymore. Not to Dad, not to anyone. Not to a single person on this planet. Because the name Junebug was reserved for my dad, and only my dad, to call me. But he stopped after I got taken for those few weeks. And I came back and everything, everything, was different.

When I came back, I wasn't Junebug, my daddy's baby, no more. Ever since I came back, I've been Juniper, the kid my dad has to look after. I've been a burden. I've been Juniper, the reason my dad has to work all dang day; Juniper, the reason my dad doesn't got enough money to buy things for himself; Juniper, the reason my dad has to wake up early in the mornings to get me to school; Juniper, the reason my dad doesn't enjoy his life.

Juniper, the little girl who can't even make her own father happy.

But I'm not worthless. I can't be worthless because I've been trying all my life to be a good person. Dale likes me and Maggie likes me and Hershel likes me and Carl likes me and so many people like me. I can't be worthless. It can't be my fault, can it?

It feels like it is, sometimes.

I try not to think like that. It just hurts my head and my heart to think like that. I've tried for so long to make my dad happy- to be the kid he wants- but it never works. I've tried everything. So it's not me, is it? It's my dad. My dad just doesn't want a kid.

Now, though, he's confusing me. Because suddenly, after all this time, he's decided that he does want me. And I don't want to let him. I know he's just gonna change his mind. He doesn't just get to decide he loves me one day and decide he hates me the next. It isn't fair.

Gosh, it hurts my head. Maybe I should just leave. Maybe I should leave and never ever come back. I'll find myself my own family. I'll find myself a family that wants me. A family that loves me. And they won't change their minds. Not even if I'm annoying or stupid or useless, they won't change their minds because they'll love me for me. Even the bad parts.

"June?" No. No, no, no, no. That's my dad's voice. I want him to go away. "I've been tryna give ya your time, baby, but you been in there for an hour and you're s'posed to take another dose a' this medicine," he tells me. He's outside the door.

"Go away," I groan, trying not to make my voice sound as devastated as I feel.

"You need more medicine, Juni," Dad says with a sigh.

"No, I don't! I don't need no more stupid medicine!" I shout, anger replacing my sadness. I don't care about some stupid medicine. Medicine is what ruined my life in the first place. If my teacher hadn't found that stupid, awful, horrible medicine in my backpack, then I wouldn't have gotten taken. I wouldn't have been taken and Dad would still love me like he did before.

"June-"

"Go away!" I yell at him. I hear him sigh and I hide my head in my arms. And then I hear the door to the shed creek open and my face starts to burn. "Go away, Dad. I don't want you here," I mutter, keeping my face hidden by my arms.

"I've left you alone. I gave you your time. Ya can't hide in here forever, baby," Dad says. His voice is getting a little bit louder with every word, which means he's getting a little bit closer to me. I wish he'd leave. "What's goin' on?" Dad asks in his soft, gentle voice.

He's right in front of me now. Maybe I should kick him. "You're stupid," I murmur. I'm trying not to sound like I'm crying, but that time my voice wobbled and I'm sure it's obvious I'm crying.

Dad sighs. He doesn't know what to do. Maybe he would if he had been doing this my whole life, but he hasn't. It's always just been stop cryin'. Stop cryin'. Stop cryin'. So, why, why, why isn't he saying it now?

"What I said 'bout the skirt the other day was bullshit, Juniper. I's tryna' make ya tough, but you already are tough. Shoulda' known. 'Cause you're right; I'm stupid," Dad says. He doesn't even know. He doesn't even know what he did or what he said. He doesn't know anything.

"Go away," I say for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm not leavin', June," Dad huffs out. My face is still hidden, but I can tell he's still standing tall above me because I know it hurts his knee to bend it and crouch down. I hate being smaller than him. I wish I was big and strong and tall and I wish he was as afraid of me as I am of him.

"Why not?" I ask, trying to sound angry instead of heartbroken.

"'Cause I'd be a shitty dad if I did," he scoffs.

And I can't take it no more. I finally uncover my face and look him right in the eyes as I say, "You are a shitty dad!"

His eyebrows shoot up and he stares at me for a moment. But I don't think it's because of what I said. He knows he's been a crappy dad. I think he's more surprised by the word I used. I've never said a swear word before in my whole life. Not once. I'm too much of a goody-two-shoes.

But his surprise fades away into guilt pretty quickly. I let out a huff and I roll my eyes before standing up to walk away. Before I get two steps away from him, he grabs my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. I try and tear my arm away, but he holds onto my hand and doesn't let go.

"Leave me alone! I don't wanna talk to you!" I shout at him.

"I'm not leavin' you alone no more," Dad says, keeping his voice calm, but still being stern. His grip on my hand is tight enough that I can't pull away, and all I want to do right now is get away from him.

"Why not?!" I practically scream.

"'Cause you're my daughter and it's my job to-"

"It's not your job! It ain't ever been your job since I got back from stayin' with Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers!" I argue. I never had the nerve to scream or yell at my dad, but I do now. I really don't care anymore. He can wear me out all he wants. I don't care. I don't care about anything.

"It is my job. I just didn't do it," Dad says solemnly. His voice is quiet, like he's sad, but he doesn't deserve to be sad. This is all his fault. He did this! So why does he get to be sad about it?!

"Why not?!" I ask him, my heart pounding in my chest. If this is his job, then why hasn't he done it? What makes him want to do it now? I don't understand him. Not at all. He won't answer my question. He's doing the thing where he stares at me, but he won't say anything. He won't even open his mouth. I use my one free hand to hit his chest. "Why not?! Why not?!" I scream.

Dad grabs onto my other hand now, too, so I'll stop hitting him. He's breathing all shaky and I don't understand why. "I don't know, baby. I don't know," he whispers, his voice all scratchy.

"Yes, you do! You're a liar!" I shout. I dig my nails into his hands and he finally lets go of me. I don't leave like I wanted to before, though. I start hitting him again as I scream, "Liar! You're a good for nothin' liar!"

"June-"

"Liar! Liar!"

"Listen to me," Dad pleads. His voice is wobbling up and down and his eyes are watering. I think he's- I think he's crying. I'm making my dad cry. Dad only cried when he thought Merle was dead. Because he likes Merle the best. I bet that if it was me who disappeared off that roof, he'd be grateful. One less mouth to feed. One less lil' girl he never even wanted to look after.

My dad's crying, and part of me, in my heart, wants to comfort him. Part of me wants to hug him and tell him I'm sorry and that it's ok and that I forgive him. But he hasn't done that for me, so why should I for him? So, I slam my fists against his chest some more. "Stop cryin'! Stop cryin'!" I shout at him furiously. "Stop it! Dixons don't cry! Stop bein' a baby! Stop cryin'!"

"Juniper, stop," Dad says, trying to get his voice to be firm. But it isn't working. He's crying like a little crybaby. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shut up! Shut up!" I scream at him, shoving him away from me. He grabs onto my wrists again. "Stop it! Leave me alone!" But he doesn't. He won't let me go. He won't leave me alone. "I hate you! You're a shitty dad! You ain't ever loved me! So stop pretendin' you do! You're just gon' change your mind and it's gon' hurt even worse! So stop it!"

"I do love you, Juniper. You know that," Dad says, his voice breaking.

"No, you don't! Stop lyin'! Stop lyin' to me! Just let me go!"

"No! I'm not fuckin' lyin' to you! Just- jus' listen to me!" Dad shouts, trying to hold me still by my shoulders.

"Shut up! You stopped lovin' me when they took me away! I know you did!" I scream. I'm crying, too, now, so I can't tell him to stop anymore.

"No, I didn't! Stop hittin' me!" he yells. I don't stop.

"Why?! 'Cause you're gon' hit me back if I don't?!" I ask. His grip on my upper arms loosens and I pull myself away from him. I stare up at his face with angry, watery eyes. "Hit me! Go 'head! Hit me, Dad!" He looks down at me, but he doesn't look angry. His eyes are wide and sad and I hate it. I hate him. He won't say anything. He won't move. I hate it. "I hate you, Dad! I hate you!" I try getting him angry again, but it doesn't work.

Dad's hands lift up to rub his face for a moment. He takes a big, shaky breath. "June, I do love you. More 'n anythin'. That's never changed," he says so quietly that he's practically whispering.

"You're a liar," I whisper back. I can feel the muscles in my face trying to break down into a cry, but I try to keep them angry. My chest feels heavy and my throat feels empty.

"I'm not."

"You are! You don't love me. I can see it. I ain't blind, Dad. I see Carl and his mom and dad, and Sophia and Carol. Hershel and Beth and Maggie. I see 'em. They love each other. You ain't nothin' like them. Nothin'," I argue.

I keep shifting my weight, trying to decide between hitting him some more and running away. Dad just watches me with that same guilty look in his eye. He should be guilty. I want him to get mad and make excuses, just so I can keep yelling at him. I wanna yell at him just to make up for all the times he's yelled at me. But he won't do anything. He won't get angry at me.

"You blame it on Grandpa. I know he was bad to you, but that don't mean you get to be bad to me! Bad to everyone! You been bad to me the past five years and ya don't see me yellin' and swearin' at people who're only tryna do good! I been hurtin' the past five years and I ain't hurt a single soul! So why do you?! I don't-" Gosh, I'm crying really hard now- "I don't get it, Daddy. I don't get it."

"I know I've hurt you, June. And I know there ain't no excuses for that. But I'm gonna be better for you. I promise you that," Dad says. I don't believe him. Not a single bit of it.

"Why?!" I ask.

"Because you deserve better 'n I've been givin' you," Dad tells me.

"Why now and not before?" is my next question. Dad sighs at that one. He pushes his fingers into his eyes for a second, and then he sighs again. He's not answering. My anger grows. I shove him back with all the strength I've got. "Why?!" I ask again.

"I was fuckin' scared, June," Dad admits in a broken voice I never heard outta him before. I don't understand what he means. I furrow my eyebrows and glance back at the door to the shed, contemplating running. "I was- God fuckin' damnit," he stops to rub his eyes some more.

"Scared a' what? Scared Merle'd call ya names for lovin' your own kid? 'Cause ya don't got no backbone?!" I ask with a mean, tense tone of voice.

"I was scared a' losin' you, Juniper. I was scared of us hurtin' like we did when you went to live with the Rodgers," Dad tells me.

I stop for a moment, trying to understand. I don't get it. I was only gone for a few weeks. How could it have hurt him more than it hurt me? How could it hurt him to the point that he'd stop loving me just so it won't hurt no more? "I was comin' back. It was only for a few weeks," I murmur, expressing my confusion.

Dad scoffs out a laugh that doesn't really sound humorous. More like a scoff of disbelief. "What? You thought I knew they'd let you come home?" he asks, raising his eyebrows a little.

I shrug my shoulders. "You said you'd get me back. Ya promised," I remind him. I remember that day very well. That was the last time he called me Junebug- except for just now and when he was drunk at the CDC.

"I didn't know. Not for sure. I knew I'd try like hell to get ya back. But I didn't know," Dad explains.

But I still don't understand how that could make him stop loving me. His reasons are stupid. They aren't worth nothing, but I'm listening to them anyway because I'm a pushover. I'm a pushover for him because all I want is for him to love me like he used to.

"So- so what? You stopped lovin' me because you didn't want 'em to take me away again? That doesn't make sense, Dad! Doesn't make any sense at all," I say, getting irritated again.

"I's stupid. Thought that it'd hurt less for the both of us if we weren't so close no more," Dad tells me. So, what, he thought it'd make me feel better? That's stupid. He's right. He is stupid. "They told me you were cryin' every night, askin' for me. Made me feel like shit, knowin' I couldn't be there with ya. Thought that if ya hated me a lil' more, you wouldn't miss me so much. Vice versa. But it was stupid, 'cause all it did was hurt us even more."

"You're stupid, Dad," I say, using my shoulder to wipe my eyes.

"I know I am, baby," Dad says, putting on a little smile that I know is fake.

"I hate you," I spit. I don't know if I do, but I really want to.

At first, Dad looks sad, chewing on his lip and staring at me. But then he nods, saying, "You got every right to."

"You're a bad dad, and you're rude, and you're mean, and you- you-" I hit his chest one more time as I try to think of something else mean to say, "You smell bad a lot a' the time, too."

I want to hurt him as much as he has hurt me in the past five years, but I don't think I could be that cruel if I tried.

Dad chews his lip some more, nodding his head in agreement. At least he knows it, too. "I'mma be better. I promise you," he says, grabbing my hand again. This time, though, he grabs my hand not to restrain me, but to rub his thumb over my knuckles. "Don't know how much I can do 'bout that last thing, though."

That was supposed to make me laugh. I know that. But I don't laugh. I glare at him some more, trying to pretend that there's not a lump in my throat. Dad sees that lump, though. He always does. He picks me up from underneath my arms and holds me like he used to when I was little. I hide my face in his shoulder and he rubs circles on my back.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. Then he kisses my head, just above my ear. "An' I love you more 'n anythin'."

"Liar," I whisper back.

"No matter what you think, I love you more than anythin'. You can hate me all you want. Hell, I deserve it. But don't you ever think I don't love you, Juniper Jo Dixon," Dad tells me, pulling his head back to look at me again. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying not to cry anymore. "I don't say it enough. I know. Haven't done a great job at showin' it, either. But I do. I swear to you, I do. I love you, and you look beautiful in that skirt and in everythin' else, too, and you've got the sweetest smile, and I am so proud a' you for bein' you."

"You only wanted me to be strong. I ain't. I'm a crybaby," I say, furrowing my eyebrows.

"You are strong. Takes more strength to be nice than it does to be an asshole."

"I hate you," I say one more time, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and squeezing tight.

He sighs and keeps rubbing my back. "I know."

I want to hate my dad, but my whole life, all I've wanted is for him to hold me and love me like he's doing now. I've always wanted this. So even though I hate him and I know he doesn't deserve a lick of forgiveness, I cling to him like a leech. I can't help it.