038
next time, leave a voicemail

[tw: brief mentions of self-harm, suicide ideation]

Bianca's stomach was in knots.

Ever since JJ told her about Singh kidnapping Big John, it was all she could think about. Not because of the man himself, but because she knew John B was probably going out of his mind worrying.

John B, who also just found out Sarah cheated on him. Conveniently enough, both had been missing for the past hour. Bianca, however, knew they were somewhere around the party, considering the HMS was still docked by the pier.

"What's on your mind, cariño?"

Bianca blinked, returning her attention to her grandfather whose one arm winded around her back while their other hand clasped with hers. Slowly, he swayed them with furrowed eyebrows, surrounded by couples dancing to the slowed rhythm of the band.

The temperature had since dropped without the sun hanging overhead, and a cool breeze drafted the air. Teodoro gave Bianca his suit jacket to hang over her shoulders, in exchange for that promised dance, of course.

"Sorry," Bianca shook her head. "It's nothing."

"Is it your friends?" He arched an eyebrow.

Bianca's lips parted with hesitation but upon noticing the pointed look on her grandfather's face, she sighed, "It always is."

His question reminded her that she hadn't seen Pope in forever. Cleo too. She wondered what the boy was up to, and if he missed her too.

"Remind me again..." Teodoro trailed off, glancing over to where Kiara and her parents were conversing with Topper. "There's Kiara, Sarah, your boyfriend-"

"JJ," Bianca filled in.

"Yes, JJ. John B, Cleo- and... it's got something to do with the church," He frowned. "Priest, was it?"

"Pope," Bianca laughed, allowing the man to move them to the music.

"Ah, Pope," Teodoro nodded, although he wore a teasing smirk. "Lo siento, when you're as old as me, your memory tends to fade-"

"Oh, please, you're not fooling anyone, Abuelito," Bianca narrowed her eyes playfully. "You can remember the channel and time of every single telenovela you and Abuelita watch together. Your memory is fine."

"Well," Teodoro hummed. "I'd give it up and anything else if it meant seeing you laugh like that again."

Bianca smiled as her grandfather pulled her shoulder down to place a chaste kiss against her forehead. Somewhere deep in her heart warmed like a fireplace on Christmas Eve, a place that had been cold for a long time.

"Hey!" A little, albeit annoyed, voice piped up behind them. "Get your own dance partner, Mister!"

Bianca frowned, peering over her grandfather's shoulder at the small blonde girl, "Char?"

Teodoro was quick to play along, "Oh no, apologies, I wasn't aware-" He let go of Bianca's hand dramatically. "And who is this young lady?"

"The Darling's little booger-eater," Bianca planted a hand on her hip with a teasing smirk.

"I do not eat my boogers," Charlotte scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. "And it's Charlotte. Just-"

"Just Charlotte," Bianca mocked, sticking her tongue out at the girl who did the same in retaliation.

"Well, by all means, Charlotte," Teodoro chuckled heartily at the two. "She's all yours. I'll see you later, cariño," He leaned over to give her hand a final squeeze before disappearing into the crowd.

Bianca turned back to the girl, "Where are your parents?" She wasn't trying to have another amber alert situation.

Charlotte clasped her hands behind her back and twisted one ballet shoe against the stone floor, "Over there," She cast her gaze toward the couple mingling with Topper's mother, Cynthia Thornton. "Mommy said I can come play if I don't go too far. Can I dance with you? Please, please, please?" Her doe eyes widened.

Bianca rolled her eyes but outstretched her hand which Charlotte took with a soft giggle. She twirled the younger girl who stood on her tiptoes, bouncing along to music only she could hear. The strum of the guitarist was slow but Charlotte waved her arms and spun in circles like there was some kind of pop song blasting through the speakers.

Bianca took a step back to allow her to have her moment, covering her lips to stifle her laughter. Charlotte glanced up at the stars littering the night sky, her lips parted as she tried to spin like a ballerina.

Bianca tried to follow her gaze but she finally caught sight of Sarah in the crowd, not too far from them. Only, she wasn't alone.

Topper wrapped his arms around the girl, and even worse, she reciprocated. Sarah rested her chin upon his shoulder in an embrace that felt a little more intimate than it should've.

Bianca's eyes narrowed. Even after everything, her best friend never learned.

But then, from the corner of her eye, the girl noticed none other than John B striding forward. His jaw was set and his fists were clenched on either side of him. Topper seemed to see him too because he slowly pulled away from Sarah.

"John B," Bianca whispered, and her heart dropped.

Having completely forgotten about the little girl dancing beside her, Bianca stepped forward to follow after them. Hopefully, she could try and diffuse the situation before it was too late but Charlotte's small voice interrupted.

"Bianca? Where are you going?" She skipped after her.

"Wait-" Bianca's feet faltered, struggling between staying with the girl or helping her friends. "No, Char- just stay here-"

Suddenly, a glass shattered from where John B shouldered one of the waiters, causing him to spill the drinks in his hands. Guests of the party began to whirl around, craning their necks to see what the commotion was about.

"No, not right here, bro," Topper protested. "Not right here-"

"No, no, no-" Sarah got in between them, pushing John B back by the chest. "Please-"

"Just get out-" John B pushed past her. "Get out of my way-"

"John B!" Sarah's lips parted in shock as he made his way over to Topper.

"Who are they?" Charlotte tilted her head innocently.

Bianca's chest tightened, "...My friends."

"We're not doing this!" Topper scoffed.

John B shoved his chest so hard he stumbled backward into a nearby table, "Feel good about yourself, Topper?" He taunted. "You like messin' up my relationship?"

"Stop!" Sarah tried to pull them apart. "Stop!"

"I'm not- y-you need to chill out, bro!" Topper side-stepped his hands when John B tried to push him again. "You're ruining Mike and Anna's party, right now, okay?!"

"Oh, that's what you're worried about?" John B shoved him again.

"I would just walk away, John B," Topper was getting in his face now. "Walk away right now."

Panic clawed at Bianca's throat but her focus was now on Charlotte, who was whimpering quietly into her side. All the fighting caused tears to spring to the young girl's eyes, tightly fisting the material of Bianca's dress.

Bianca's heart stuttered, resisting the urge to run after her friends, and instead leaned down to scoop Charlotte up in her arms, "Hey, hey- don't cry," The little blonde hid in the crook of her neck. "It's okay, Char. It's okay."

"I'm scared," Charlotte sniffled, and Bianca could feel tears staining her shoulder. "Why are they fighting?"

"They're fighting 'cause they're boys," Bianca cooed softly, covering Charlotte's eyes so she couldn't catch a glimpse of the brawl. "And boys are dumb. Shhh, don't be scared. You're okay, I've got you."

"You feel good about yourself, huh?" John B's knuckles turned white with how hard they were clenched.

"John B-" Sarah finally whirled him around to face her and held his gaze firmly. "For once in your life, would you please just turn around and walk away? Please!" She begged hoarsely, her voice turning soft. "Look at me. Please don't."

A brief moment of silence passed. Bianca thought maybe Sarah finally got through to him, that all of this would be over. But then Topper opened his stupid, fucking mouth, just like he always did.

"Hey, no hard feelings, bro," The blond boy scoffed, smirking at the back of John B's head.

"Topper," Sarah groaned.

John B stared at the girl for a moment longer, running his tongue over his teeth. Another beat passed.

"We good?" Topper echoed.

John B turned around to face him, casually at first. But Sarah knew better, "No, John B, no!"

And then he was rearing his fist back and ramming it into the side of Topper's skull. The crack! reverberated throughout the party.

Gasps could be heard from the crowd as they stared in horror at the scene of Topper now groaning on the floor. The band halted their playing and the deafening feedback of the microphones breached the air.

"Shit," Bianca cursed, still with Charlotte in her arms, and rushed over to hand her back to her parents.

Clara Darling took her daughter into her arms, sending a grateful nod in Bianca's direction but the girl was already running off toward the fight. She watched John B tower over Topper, preparing himself for another blow.

"You like that shit, Top? Huh?" John B shook out his fist to rid himself of the pain while Sarah staggered backward. "Huh?"

"John B, what the hell!?" Bianca stumbled to a stop beside her best friend, gripping the blonde's arm. "Just leave him— let it go!"

"Stop, John B!" Sarah tried to interject again.

"John B?" Kiara was trying to push her way through the crowd to join them.

"You ready for this?" John B reached for Topper's collar.

"Stop, what are you doing?" Sarah gasped, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. When the boy pulled his fist back again, she cried out, "No! Stop!"

John B ignored her pleas and continued delivering blow after blow into Topper's bloody face. The boy on the ground did nothing to fight back or roll out of the way. Each time John B pulled back, it gave the crowd a long enough glimpse of the blood spilling from his nose and mouth.

Bianca reacted out of instinct, reaching for John B's arm to tear him away but in his rage, he shoved her back, forcing her to stumble into Sarah. JJ, who had previously been watching from the dock, took this as his cue to jump in. His combat boots thudded against the wooden boards as he rushed to pull them apart.

Almost as if her pounding heart could feel him near before her eyes did, Bianca glanced around frantically, "JJ!" Her breath hitched when she saw him sprinting toward them.

"John B!" Kiara's eyes widened, standing back. "John B!"

"Hey, stop!" Sarah screeched, staring in horror as the boy she loved, and who she never meant to hurt, beat Topper to a pulp. "What are you doing?!" She whirled around for help. "Mr Carrera!"

"Hey!" Kiara's father ran toward the two boys. "Hey, hey!" He wound his arms around John B who writhed around, trying to break free. Finally, he tore them apart and threw the boy to the ground, "Hey, get- get out of here!"

"Get him out of here!" Anna called from somewhere beside Kiara.

"Get out of here!" Mike rolled his shoulders back, prepared to physically restrain the boy if he had to.

Clearly no match for Kiara's father but so blinded by hurt, John B strode forward, "Is that what you want, Mike?"

"Get off!" JJ intervened swiftly, fisting John B's collar and shoving him backward. At the same time, he faced Kiara's father who also took a threatening step toward them, "Get off of him!"

"That's what I'm talking about!' Mike shouted, the vein in his neck protruding. "See, that's what I'm talking about! Both of you get out of here!"

"Doctor Thornton!" Sarah craned her neck to find Topper's mother in the crowd. She sobbed harder when the boy's head lolled to the side, and he made no move to get up, "Doctor—"

"Topper!" Cynthia, his mother cried, rushing forward.

"Do you need a doctor?" Anna hovered behind them.

"We need a medic, call 911!" Cynthia responded through shaky breaths. "Do not move your head, Topper."

A vice squeezed Bianca's heart as she stared at the people crowding around Topper. Her eyes flickered briefly to little Charlotte, swaddled in her mother's comforting arms before whirling back around to the boys who were backing away.

"You happy, Sarah!?" John B shouted one final time, but it was enough for Bianca to snap.

Her breaths were staccato, overwhelmed with animosity for everything the boys ruined tonight and all because they couldn't keep their tempers in check. Not only John B but JJ too, who could've easily apologized to Kiara for his actions but instead, let his pride get the better of him.

Bianca stormed up to them, her eyes narrowed in a vicious glare that sent them both tripping away, "What the hell is wrong with you!?" She cried, her throat raw. "Are you insane?! There are kids here, John B!" She shoved him by his chest.

"Bianca-" John B's fists unfurled while JJ got in between them.

"What were you thinking?! Do you even have any idea what you just did?!" Every word was punctured with venom, piercing the boy's ribs like a dagger. Topper and his mother weren't going to let this go easily. This wasn't just some boneyard punch-up— there were witnesses, "You can't get arrested, right now- your dad-" She inhaled sharply and tried to shove him again but JJ intervened. "You're so stupid- just go! Get out of here- go!"

"Yeah- gladly," John B scowled and finally allowed his best friend to drag him back to the boat.

JJ glanced backward at his girlfriend, his heart desperately clambering up his throat as if she would follow him. Instead, his longing gaze turned sour as he watched her turn away to where Topper lay unconscious on the floor, barely breathing.

Bianca didn't know John B was capable of that much anger. Especially when Topper wasn't even fighting back. It reminded her yet again, how quickly these boys could change from sweet, kind souls to violent and aggressive. Honestly? It terrified her.

"He wasn't even defending himself!" Sarah sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks when Bianca returned, standing beside Kiara.

"Please, back up!" Mike began herding the crowd away from the scene.

"Stay with me- stay with me," Cynthia chanted, trying to keep Topper's eyes on her.

It didn't take long before sirens wailed through the air and medics wheeled Topper in a stretcher to the hospital. Mike and Anna tried to salvage as much of the party as they could but by then, most of the guests had left and the band packed up soon after.

Sarah decided to stay back with Kiara and help out with cleaning up the party. The guilt was overbearing since the fight broke out because of her after all, and she decided she would sleep over at the Carrera's tonight. Lydia helped pack up the Wreck too, leaving Teodoro and Pilar to drive Bianca home.

Bianca stared up at the stars outside her house, silent but ever-present. They must've heard her when she told her grandparents that she was okay and that it was fine for them to leave her be. When she told them, she loved them and waved them off with a quick 'see you later.' They must've known she was lying.

Bianca pulled out her phone to check the time— almost midnight. The trees still swayed in the wind, causing goosebumps to arise on her skin. There was a roaring in her ears since the fight but she had lost track of what it was saying.

Bianca had watched her mother drink away her unhappy marriage with wine, and then her father too. She became accustomed to the boozy habits of the adults surrounding her at the Country Club, at soirees, galas, and charity balls. No one could get through it unless they were at least a little bit tipsy.

So, it was no wonder that Bianca turned to alcohol when it hit her. Everything.

She let the alcohol take away the problems. Every sad, scared, shitty emotion she ever felt. But eventually, the numbness faded away and by the end of the night, Bianca was alone again with the same thoughts she had been so hell-bent on trying to escape.

A cold shower. That's what she needed.

That's all she needed to drive out her racing thoughts, the ones that wouldn't leave her alone. The warmth would only allow her comfort, something she didn't deserve.

Bianca trekked her way up to her room, grabbed her pyjamas, and a towel, and headed toward her ensuite. The moment she stepped into the shower, and placed her hand under the cool water, the thoughts disappeared.

It was the reprieve she was so desperate for. With trembling hands, she let the water flow freely onto the tiled floor and the cold droplets hit her back. Her drenched hair clung to her neck and her cheeks.

Bianca didn't know how long she stood in the shower but it was long enough for her fingers to become pruney and her body to tremble in the cold. She didn't feel it, all she could feel was the creeping sensation nipping at the back of her neck.

Deciding the cold shower wasn't doing it for her anymore, Bianca stepped out and dressed herself in a pair of shorts, and one of JJ's sweatshirts she found discarded in the back of her closet.

After brushing her teeth for the night, the girl stepped back into her room with her hair leaving a wet trail of droplets in its path. Her dress from the party was still sprawled on the bedsheets and beside it was her bag concealing the cassette tape Ward gave her.

Loneliness pricked her numb fingertips, harmless at first. But the ache in her heart was yet to ease and the poison had already reached it. The damage was done and it was killing her from the inside, out.

Bianca's heart hammered against her ribcage, a thunderous beat that reverberated through her body. She wished with all her heart that it was her lying at the bottom of the ocean, not her father.

Bianca didn't want to hear what he had to say but a dim fire alit behind her ribs. Why did he get to have the last word? After he ruined her life time and time again. Even in death, his presence haunted her every waking moment.

Ever since getting back on the island, Bianca spent the past week overwrought with guilt and grief when her father was the reason for all of it. He died. She killed him. He started all of this and now? He didn't even have the courage to fix it. Bianca was just as much of a victim as he was.

Somewhere deep down, Bianca knew she was just lashing out. The grief had become too painful to hold so the rage did for her but she didn't care in that moment. Fuck him for ruining her life, and fuck him for dying and forcing her to pick up all the stupid fucking pieces he left behind.

Bianca strode forward to snatch the tape from her bag, glaring all the while. Her father's stupid obsession with history and antique relics always led back to one place— his upstairs office.

The third-storey of the Prescott household wasn't something Bianca visited often. It was usually reserved for Michael's hotel business and when he had to take work home. So, it was unsurprising that the banister leading up the staircase covered Bianca's fingers in a thin layer of dust.

The girl grimaced and shook it off her hands before carrying on to her father's office door. Michael never used to allow her upstairs, though she knew he kept some kind of cassette player in there. Those contraptions were lying everywhere the last time she caught a fleeting glance of the room.

The last time must've been when she was eight years old and her father was on a late-night, international video call. Lydia told her daughter to go tell him dinner was ready. Bianca was hesitant at first, mostly because the office was off-limits for playing but her mother was insistent.

That day she tiptoed up the steps and knocked on her father's door. Prepared for him to shush her, and send her away, the man merely ushered her inside. He sat down at his desk with the little girl on his lap and told her he wanted to show her something.

It was then, that Michael Prescott explained to his daughter how the cassette player worked. He did so by putting in a tape, one he made for Lydia all those years ago when he was first trying to woo her, with a playlist of love songs. Michael found it in one of their old boxes from when they first moved into their new home together.

Lydia intruded not too long later, telling them dinner was ready and to hurry up. Bianca was quick to listen but Michael merely laughed, placed the girl down on his desk chair, and reached for his wife tenderly. The woman protested at first, as she always did but soon enough, the stubbornness faded away and they danced airily in the middle of the room.

Bianca watched the coy smile her mother gave her father as he spun and dipped her to the sound of Elvis Presley's voice. Only one song passed before her father outstretched his hand to his only daughter next and she took it with warmth.

Michael lifted the girl into his arms, the other still wrapped around Lydia who rested her head on his shoulder. They both blinked at Bianca, their little gift, in awe— it was one of the first glimpses of their future. Of what their life could be like in Kildare.

Now, Bianca stared at the remnants of her father's office, more so a graveyard than anything else. She knew now, thinking back to that memory, it must've been why her father chose a cassette tape of all things, to leave her a message. He too reminisced on that time, when they first moved in.

God, why couldn't he have just left her a voicemail or something? Asshole.

Just like his office back in the hotel, various antique items and historical relics were littered all over the room. Bianca's eyes skimmed over them, uninterested in the pots from ancient civilizations and statue carvings of deities.

Her eyes drifted to the gold-framed oil painting behind the desk. Hand-painted by some world-renowned old-timey artist that Bianca could barely remember the name of, it was her father's pride and joy once upon a time. She could only imagine what the Pogues would say if they saw how obnoxious it was, taking up practically the entire back wall.

Just like the banister, a fine layer of dust had settled across her father's mahogany desk. Bianca's finger glided over it before settling down in the cushioned desk chair. A lump formed in her throat, envisioning the number of times her father must've sat in this very position.

Not wanting to dwell on it for too long, Bianca began shuffling through the draws, searching for the tape recorder. Instead, she found a bottle of whiskey along with a couple of glasses and reached for it.

Her father was dead, he wasn't going to drink it. She might as well have it than let it go to waste.

Unscrewing the cap, Bianca took a swig straight from the bottle and allowed the familiar burn to sear her throat. She winced, shivering at the taste.

Everyone was right. She was just like him. Michael also overindulged with liquor and other substances when things got too tough. God, the thought of him made her sick.

But this time, not with guilt. Bianca hated him. This was all his fault. He was the reason she was in this mess in the first place, and then he had to go and get himself killed.

Continuing her search, Bianca took a swig of the liquor, then another as she sifted through the drawers. Her fingers hovered over a golden compass, one she'd seen before, but thought nothing of it at the time. Now, after befriending the Pogues, Bianca knew better.

Sure enough, as she flipped open the compass, the word 'REDFIELD' was etched into the metal— John B's great-great-grandmother's maiden name. Bianca remembered when the boys told her how they first stumbled upon the clue before she and Sarah joined the treasure hunt.

The girl pocketed the compass without a second thought and finally stopped her search when her eyes landed on the tape recorder. Her fingers were trembling as she pulled it out of the wooden drawer and set it atop the desk.

Bianca's breaths were shallow as slipped the cassette into the black machine with a resounding click. She stared at it, her hand hovering over the play button. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed down and watched as the tape within began turning.

"Bianca... Sweetheart...."

The moment her father's voice came through the speaker, broken by soft crackles, the fire within her extinguished. Her fists unfurled, and she slumped into the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest.

How could she hate him? When his voice was the same as the man who wiped her tears and told her everything would be alright?

"If you're listening to this... It's most likely under unfortunate circumstances... How ever they may have come about."

Bianca scoffed humourlessly and reached for the bottle of whiskey again, taking another large gulp. She could feel the burn warming her from the inside out, melting the vice around her heart.

Why did this have to happen to her? What did she do to deserve this? She just wanted it to end. When did it end?

"You have to know, I never intended for things to get this complicated," Her father's voice cleared his throat. "I know we had our differences but I love you, Bianca, even if I didn't always act like it. You'll always be my little girl."

Bianca's eyes drifted to the framed photograph propped up on the desk beside the tape recorder. She hadn't noticed it when she first walked in but there it was, and now, it was all she could see.

The picture was of her, sitting on her father's shoulders. Probably around five or six with a bubbly smile on her face. Although the image was slightly blurry, due to her mother's poor photography skills, Michael was looking up at her with a grin to match.

"As I'm recording this, I'm staring at the wedding ring around my finger. Someway, somehow, I'll make sure it gets back to your mother. She paid for them, after all when we eloped. She always used to say, that if a man ever comes home with jewelry, it's either an anniversary or an apology," A hearty chuckle came from the machine. "I know this won't ever make up for my mistakes but if she decides to wear it one day, I hope it reminds her of how much I truly loved her. I'll forever be grateful to her for giving me the life I never could've had. A loyal wife, a beautiful daughter... a home.

"This is all a bit old-fashioned, I know," Michael sighed. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for the classics. But you knew that already... Bianca, I don't have much time left but I need you to know one thing. The moment I held you in my arms, I loved you unconditionally."

Bianca's breath hitched, nursing the bottle of alcohol to her chest. Her eyes squeezed shut, willing herself not to shed yet another tear for this man.

She tried to remind herself that he was the one who did this. He started all of it. He ruined her.

"You became my treasure and I want you to know..." He hesitated. "Everything I did, no matter how heartless or inexplicable or unjustifiable, was... for you."

No.

No. No. No.

He didn't get to do that. He didn't get to make this about her.

He never did shit for her. The gold, the cross, none of that was for her. He was greedy. He was selfish. Bianca hated him. She hated him.

"I think, perhaps, I was testing the limits of love a daughter can have for her father and you never faltered. Even during the worst of it all, I never felt anything less than love for you or from you. I hope you believe that."

No, he was wrong. She hated him. She always hated him. Bianca's fingers tightened over the whiskey bottle, similar to the one he hurled at her across the room.

What kind of love was that? That wasn't love. That was addiction, that was abuse. Michael didn't love her, not in the way a father should.

But she did love him. More than she cared to admit. Bianca remembered begging him to put an end to all of this because she loved him. Maybe, that's what he truly meant.

The realization forced an unwilling sob to escape her lips from behind the rim of the glass bottle as she inhaled yet another sip. She wanted her dad back.

"I don't think I was ever happier than when I came home from work and you'd run up to me and squeeze my legs. Those were good times, weren't they?" Michael's voice lowered from the machine. "I always wanted to be a good father for you, Bianca. I love you so much. Goodbye, my little angel. Take care of your mother for me."

The tape recorder made another clicking noise, and the tape ejected itself. Bianca stared at it through the deafening silence of her father's office.

That was... it?

He didn't even apologize once throughout his entire self-righteous, pompous spiel. He didn't apologize and she didn't get to tell him she forgave him because he died, and all he could say for it was that he loved her?

That couldn't be it. That wasn't enough. It wasn't fair, why did he get to have the last word?

Bianca never got to yell, and shout, and scream and tell him how all of this was his fault. The reason she was so fucked up in the head, why her whole life, her relationship, and her family was falling apart was because of Him.

And he didn't even have the decency to be sorry about it.

Bianca took one final drink of the bottle before slamming it down onto the desk in front of her. She hadn't realized she was crying till her cold tears fell from her flushed cheeks over the wood. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, breathing in, and out to try to soothe her racing thoughts but it didn't work.

That couldn't be it. There had to be more. Where was the part where he pleaded that there was nothing he could say, or do to make up for the havoc he caused in her life? He did this. It was his fault. Her father was the reason she was like this.

Bianca hit the rewind button on the tape recorder and then 'play', again. This time, the sigh at the beginning no longer felt like one of resignation. It was almost taunting.

"Bianca... Sweetheart...."

"No," Bianca's eyes squeezed shut, her tears falling over the backs of her hands.

His voice rang in her ears, replaying the same words. There was no secret message, no hidden part she didn't hear.

Her knuckles turned white over the edge of the desk, listening to her father claim that he loved her, that everything he did was for her, and that she was the perfect daughter blah, blah, blah.

It wasn't true. None of it was true.

Bianca wasn't the perfect daughter and Michael was a liar. Her father was a liar. And she couldn't bear to listen to his lies anymore.

Fuelled by rage, a raw cry tore through Bianca's throat as she cleared the contents of his desk with one clean swipe of her arm. The tape recorder, papers, pens, paperweights, and other debris clattered to the ground and yet, the cassette continued blaring his voice.

Bianca ripped the cassette from the recorder and pulled out the tape till there was nothing. The pile of black plastic lay at her feet, encompassed by the other shambles of her father's belongings. She never wanted to see it again, she never wanted to hear his voice ever again.

Bianca's breath shuddered, choking back sobs as she reached for the bottle of alcohol and tipped it backward. She couldn't feel the burn anymore, it didn't hurt. She needed it to hurt.

Bianca was holding on, but barely. Gripping whatever she could to keep it together for another day. She didn't think about next week, or next month, just today. That was what she told herself. That was how she'd gone on for so long. Just keep it together, today.

But she couldn't keep it together anymore. It was so hard.

The world kept on spinning, and after every sleepless night, the sun still rose. There was no timeout for her to step off the merry-go-round, and catch her breath. She had to paste on a smile, or at least, hold back the tears.

Going on living was the hardest thing about her father's death. She was shipwrecked, a thousand pieces of her being slowly drifting far from each other.

She couldn't survive this, no one could.

She couldn't keep living like this.

There was nothing left for her. Every inch of this house was filled with memories of her father.

Through blurred vision, Bianca tipped the remnants of the whiskey all over her father's desk and then around it, and all over the floorboards until all but a single drop fell to the ground.

And when it was empty, she hurled the bottle across the room, just like he did to her. The glass shattered against the wall with a deafening crash, the shards imploding in on themselves.

The bitter stench of alcohol wafted through the air and slicked the ground below her feet. Bianca stepped through the soaked papers and folders strewn across the room before stopping behind the desk once again.

She opened the top drawer, where her father once kept his cigars and consequently, his lighter. The silver metal glinted in the corner and Bianca reached for it.

Her hands trembled profusely, flicking the lid open and causing a flame to spark. It was small but if she let go, it wouldn't be for much longer. Red and yellow ribbons of scalding heat intertwined under her breath.

Bianca stared at it, her vision going in and out of focus. She lifted her other hand before brushing a finger over the scalding heat and yet, felt nothing. There was no pain. Just... nothing.

Tears streamed down Bianca's numb cheeks as she stared at the flickering lighter. She was all out of anger. There was nothing left.

Instead, what replaced it was a cold that rattled her bones. No one told her that grief felt so much like fear. Fear that this pain would never go away. She woke up every day knowing a part of her was missing, and that part would never be recovered.

Bianca hated him. She thought she hated him. But really, she just wished she had more time to love him.

Bianca inhaled a shaky breath, alone in her father's old office with the lighter outstretched over the whiskey-covered desk. Remnants of the man surrounded her, through broken glass and stained papers, in shambles across the floor.

The flame reflected in her eyes, taunting her to give in. To let go.

And so she did.

author's note. hi my lovely friends i hope you are all doing well <3 i was gonna say something dumb and funny to lighten the mood but i thought it's a bit of emotional chapter so let me sit my stupid ass down lol.

this is just a reminder that you are loved and if this is something you need to hear, it DOES get better. i can tell u that personally from my own experience. i've also recently been working with a lot of high-schoolers with mental health and behaviour disorders because of my job (not that i'm much older lol im only 21). and my heart breaks everytime one of my students tell me they've felt the same way i've felt when i was their age. so TRUST ME, there's people and adults in your life that truly do care so if you need it, please reach out.

anyway i love u guys, have a great day and see u next chapter <33333