Flashback

~~~

"Please, please let me go to the concert!" My voice was high and whiny, the regular kind of thing you'd expect from a frustrated teenager, I'd spent the past hour begging my parents to let me go to a local band.

My Mum was always the good guy when it came to giving yes or no answers, ask enough, do a couple of chores around the house and she'd give in like a house of cards being blown down by a slight breeze, it was my Dad who was reluctant.

He'd always take me to whatever gig I wanted to see but that also meant when he was unable to go with me I wouldn't be allowed to go. In this situation he had a meeting on that would last through the time the gig started and even if he wasn't busy I still wasn't allowed to see the band because he thought thy were too 'violent'.

They weren't that bad but their music could get a bit graphic with constant mentions of murdering people and using guns, you could see the band in an interview and you could tell they were really nice guys but it didn't mean that everybody who came to see them was also nice and Dad was worried I'd get hurt but because was a teenager who wasn't getting what she wanted it meant I wasn't open to reason and logic.

"I've told you no, you're not going!" Dad's voice was raised, he didn't yell often but he'd been really busy because of work lately and he'd also had me whinging in his ear for the past couple of hours...and days.

"I can just go by myself. I've looked up all the information, I catch a bus into the city then a tram to the venue. I'll be back before one." I was already dressed for the gig, jeans, t-shirt and boots, I'd bought the concert tickets and figured out all the details for how to get there and how to get back, I was sixteen and I'd thought I was grown up enough to be allowed to attend a concert by myself.

"You're not going there, how many times do I have to repeat myself? I don't care if you've bought a ticket, I don't want you going there. There'll be dangerous people, you are a young girl who could be raped or murdered or God knows what." Dad finished adjusting his striped tie in the hallway mirror and walked to the living room to collect his brief case and car keys that he'd left on the coffee table.

"I'll be fine, nothing bad will happen to me, I can take care of myself. I've got a can of mace and I can hit and stuff. Besides, I know a couple of people who'll be there so I can hang out with them." I was lying about the last part, I didn't know anyone but I did have mace I was able to protect myself, he was being over the top.

"Stop, stop okay! You're not going and if you keep whining I'll make sure you won't be going to any other concerts for the rest of the year!" He said, now standing by the front door with his hand on the handle, I was starting to cry, I wasn't sad, I was frustrated and I wasn't having anyone listen to me not matter how much I pleaded my case.

"How could you be so mean to me? I'm not asking for much, I don't want you to pay a million bucks for me to go, I've already bought my ticket and I've got enough money to pay to get there. I don't fucking get it, you're being such a fucking jerk and it's not fair! I hate you, I've done everything all my chores and I've cooperated and I fucking hate you." I yelled, turning around and walking up the hallway stairs so I could go to my bedroom, I wanted to cry and blare music until I felt better, I needed a strong dose of My Chem.

"You're grounded and when I get home I'm gonna talk to your Mother."
"I hope you die on your way home, I hate you and I wish you weren't my dad, I wish you were dead!" I don't know what he did after that, I ran the rest of the way up the stairs, into my room then slammed the door shut behind me, loud enough to convey my frustration.

Music was still coming from the stereo in my room as usual it was the Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge cd in the player. The album played nonstop every day and I rarely took it out to put on something else, Mum asked all the time how I could tolerate the same music playing over and over. I always gave her the same response, 'it's MCR'.

Glad that I didn't have to the effort of changing the music I went to my bed and lay down face first on the pillow. Despite being in a slightly better mood I was still angry and frustrated the music playing did manage to take the edge off my mood like always.

I can't believe I don't get to go to the concert. If Mum had gotten the final decision she'd have let me go but no, my parents had to be the kind of people who had to have a shared decision in everything, just my luck. Sometimes I wish I had the kind of parents who don't care, mine want to know what I'm doing every moment of the day and after a while it can get pretty freaking annoying, especially when I'm in a bad mood and just want to go to my room and paint.

Thankfully Mum was outside at the moment do that meant I got to be in my room, in the bad mood that I desired while she was gardening or talking to someone on the phone. I got to get out my easel, paintbrush and paint then turn up the music without her coming upstairs and asking if I was alright, I wasn't alright and I wanted to be not alright in my own room.

I was painting for about an hour until Mum came upstairs, checking on me to see what I was doing. I was finishing off a piece of art that I'd been working on for the past week, wearing an old pair of pyjama pants that had been strictly sanctioned for art projects and a large black shirt that had been lumped into the same category.

"Hey, what happened to the concert you're supposed to be going to?" She asked, stepping into my room and closing the door behind her, at mention of the concert I almost put my paintbrush through the canvas, I was trying my hardest not to think about the gig, if I couldn't go I wanted to forget entirely about it.

"Dad had to go to a meeting and couldn't take me and he wouldn't let me go by myself so I'm not going." I made a couple of angry, jagged strokes with the brush and turned to look at Mum as she sat down on my bed, putting her hands in her lap.

"But why'd you take your outfit off, you looked so nice?"

"Because I'm not going and I'm just gonna sit around my room for the rest of the night so there's no point getting dressed up and I don't want to talk about it okay?" My voice was starting to sound angry as well but I knew I shouldn't take my temper out on Mum, she'd had nothing to do with the matter and probably wouldn't have heard the fight between Dad and me.

"That's no reason to not be wearing your concert clothes." I frowned at what she said, Mum had a long history of not making sense and this was one of those times, I hadn't understood whatever the hell it was that she meant.

"What?" I put my paintbrush down and turned.

"I think you should put your concert clothes back on and come downstairs, that's all I'm saying." Before I could respond Mum stood up and left my room, disappearing to somewhere in the house while I tried to process what I'd just heard.

Deciding it'd be best to listen to what she'd said I pulled off my painting clothes and threw them into a pile on my bed before opening my wardrobe and ransacking, looking for the shirt and ripped jeans that I'd thrown in, in a fit of temper.

I struggled but after a little while found them and put them on, only having to tug my shoes on over my already socked feet before running down the stairs and into the living room where Mum was on the couch watching tv.

"So what's up?" I asked, sitting down at the end of the couch and stretching my legs out, Mum usually didn't like me having my shoes on any of the furniture but she ignored it this time and turned to look at me.

"I can't tell you but if you wait you'll find out." What, had she suddenly decided to overrule my Father and let me go to the concert?

I wish I could be lucky enough for something like that but even if I was allowed to go I'd never be able to get a bus into the city before the concert started, I'd miss at least half of it and that's if the venue wasn't the kind that didn't allow people who showed up late.

Deciding not to push my luck in case there was a genuine miracle in motion I remained quiet for the next half an hour, not saying anything and watching whatever Mum wanted to put on the tv even if I didn't like the show. My palms were starting to go sweaty and I could feel butterflies in my stomach, they weren't really gonna let me go to the gig after how I behaved are they?

After a while had passed Mum started to tap her foot on the hardwood floor before crossing her arms over her chest and looking at the clock on the wall, by this point it was starting to get dark outside and the doors for the concert were going to open in about forty minutes, causing my heart to freak out.

My original plan had been to sit outside so I could get right up the front when the show started but I'm not going to say anything, I'll be happy if I can just go.

A couple more minutes passed then Mum stood up and walked out of the living room, disappearing into the kitchen before I heard the beeping sound that came with the phone being taken off the hook, she was gonna call someone.

Knowing from experience that she was gonna take a while I moved a bit further up the couch and picked up the remote for the tv as I heard her voice start talking into the phone along with the tapping of her feet on the floor as she paced back and forth, either waiting for a response or listening to one.

I flicked through the channels, not stopping on anything for too long. It was late on a sunday on afternoon, there wasn't going to be anything that could be considered genuinely entertaining for a teenager. A couple of crappy shows, one of those movies made for tv that no one ever really watches, a documentary on Einstein, the news.

I stopped on the news because unlike most people my age I was actually curious as to what was going on in the world.

In the background part of my brain listened to Mum on the phone although it didn't sound like anything really important was going on. 'Where are you, you were supposed to be here half an hour ago. Call me when you get this', apparently she could only get voicemail.

Not finding the message interesting I turned back to the tv and watched what was going on, on the screen which was a reporter sitting behind a desk.

"We've got breaking news on a car pileup on the Princess Highway and go to our field reporter Brad whose in the traffic helicopter. Brad, can you tell us what's happening?" I crossed my legs and leant forward as they showed a man sitting in a helicopter with a headset on, he appeared to be looking out the door and took a while to turn his attention to the camera focusing on him.

"Oh yes, it seems that a car has swerved off the overpass and crashed through the railing before landing on the highway below causing a series of collisions. We don't know how many vehicles are involved just yet since everything seems to be a tangle of metal but there's at least five ambulances here and other emergency services. The police have set up roadblocks and are trying to divert traffic to avoid any other collisions. I'll give you an update as more information comes in, Katy." The screen went to a smoking pile of cars for a moment before flashing back to the woman sitting behind the desk who was frowning slightly and looking at a piece of paper in her hands before looking up at the screen.

"I hope Dad doesn't run into that on his way back from work." I mumbled turning to Mum who'd joined me on the couch, crossing her legs as well and taking back the remote control, flicking through the channels.

"He'll be fine," she replied, "he should be ahead of the crash anyway."

Ahead of the crash?
Is he coming home from work early?
Has this got something to do with the concert?

Other than the sound of the news Mum and remained quiet, not talking and hardly moving. Although we weren't saying it we were both thinking the same thing, I'd gotten the idea Dad was on the road and although she'd said he should have been ahead of the crash I couldn't help but get a worried feeling in my gut.

Nothing will have happened to him, he'll be fine. He might have gotten held up at work and have no idea that there was even a crash or Mum could be right and he could be ahead of the whole thing and be about to open the front door and walk in at any moment.

I shouldn't have said what I said to him, usually I'd never say something like that. I'm a paranoid person and would never say any form of I hope you die, I'm worried that I might accidentally wish death on someone and as they say 'be careful what you wish for'. I'm the exact kind of person who's careful of what they wish for, even when I was really little I'd never throw any tantrums and wish for something that I didn't really want to happen.

I actually didn't think Dad was going to leave after I'd said that, I thought he was going to do the same thing he always does. Come upstairs, apologise for yelling, I'd apologise for what I'd said and that would be that, he'd leave for work and I wouldn't have to feel the guilt of saying bad things anymore.
It was unlike him to immediately leave.

Not knowing how to deal with the worry I felt I looked at Mum and she patted me on the knee, a way of comforting me and saying 'don't worry about it'. I gave her a weak smile then turned back to the television, hoping they'd say something about everyone in the crash being fine or the reporter talking right to me and saying a large green Jeep with a customised Australian license plate wasn't a part of the metal twist of cars.

There was a knock on the front door and we jumped, not expecting the sudden loud sound in the almost silent living room.

Had Dad forgotten his keys? I remember seeing him pick up the car keys but not the ones for the front door, of course he could have finally gotten them put on the same loop as the ones for the car like he kept talking about and it's someone else at the door.

I waited for Mum to do something, she always preferred answering the door but after a couple of seconds I noticed she wasn't moving and continued chewing on her thumbnail so I shakily stood up and walked to the front door, put my hand on the doorknob, twisted then pulled the glass paned door open with ease.

There were to cops standing on the other side, one a guy and the other a chick, their hats were in their hands and they had rather gentle, almost apologetic expressions on their faces, ones I didn't like the look of.

"Hello, I'm Officer Cortez and this is Officer Shepard, we're looking for a woman by the name of Margo Solomon is there anyone here by that name?" I nodded and took a couple of deep breaths to catch my bearings, police only made house calls for a couple of reasons, my family hasn't done anything wrong so arrest is out of the question and we didn't call them the only other reason I could come up with is if someone has died.

"She's my Mum, uh she's in the living room. Come in." I stepped to the side and held the door further open as they walked in, their hats still off as I closed the door and they saw Mum sitting on the couch.

They walked into the living room and stood there awkwardly for a couple of seconds as Mum stood up and gestured for them to sit down.

The horrible feeling in my stomach had travelled up to my heart and I knew what was coming. I'd already gotten the feeling when I was sitting on the couch and it'd just been worsened by the solemn look on the officers faces, I wanted to get away from it, far, far away.

Not saying anything I quickly walked over to the stairs and managed to run halfway up them before I stopped when I heard Mum's voice call out to me, "you don't have to go upstairs if you don't want to." She was standing in the arch between the hallway and the living area, her hands clasped unusually in front of her.

"I know." I mumbled before running the rest of the way up the stairs and into my room, crashing down on my bed and burrowing my face into my pillow, taking gasping sobs and trying to pretend I had no idea what was happening.

I was sobbing, loudly without even trying to hold anything back. I didn't care if the police downstairs could hear me or the neighbours down the street, half the universe could hear me and I wouldn't fucking care the only thing I could feel was pure nausea in my stomach and a horrible burning in my heart that made me want to tear it out of my chest.

After long enough of wailing I finally heard my bedroom door creak open and the muffled sound of footsteps across my carpeted bedroom floor before the side of my bed sunk under under the weight of another person. A hand gently stroked my hair, slow and soothing. I continued crying but rolled over and hugged onto my Mum's waist, allowing myself to bawl even louder as I hugged her tighter and she put her arms around me.

My chest hurt, my whole body hurt and there was only two things in my mind, the words I'd said to Dad before he left and how badly I wanted to go to sleep to escape what I was feeling and the horrible thoughts that mocked me.

"This is my fault." I sobbed as she put her arms around my shoulders and held me like I was a little kid again that only had to deal with small problems finding a dead lizard in the yard and crying about it, I wish that was the least of my problems.

"No it's not, it's no ones fault." She whispered, rocking me back and forth, it did nothing to make me feel better and I doubted it would but if it made her feel better then I'd keep my mouth shut.

"You didn't hear what I said to him before he left, I said 'I hope you die on your way home'. I deserve to die, it's all my fault." Mum stopped rocking me and for a brief second I honestly believed she thought her daughter was some murdering witch but before long she responded with a very simple sentence.

"Words can be powerful things but they're not powerful enough to make us Gods." Her english major showed then it was gone and she went back to the Mum I was used to, the one who comforted me when I was sad and just needed a hug.

"Everything will be okay sweetheart."

Notes