‼️ON PAUSE‼️ 'Cause The Hardest Part Of This Is Leaving You

Bright yellow rays of light beaming through my window. Well, I'm defiantly up now. It has got to be atleast nine in the morning. I turn over in my warm bed to see my curtains wide open and my blinds rolled up. Mom must have come in here. She's the only one who would have done that, because dad respects sleep. Even if she did let the light shine in, I still love her anyway.
I flipped my pillow over. That side was just way too warm, and the cool side was much better. As I flipped the pillow to its opposite side, I see my brown stuffed bear fall off the side of my bed. I lean over and reach for it. When I pick it up, I hold it tightly and breathe in. It smells good for no reason at all. I remember when I got this. I had to be around three or four. Daddy brought it back from one of his very last tours with the band. I know I'm seventeen but I can still love a stuffed animal right? Besides, I got it from my dad, and I love him to the moon and back.
I stretch my arms above my head while deciding whether or not I'm going to get out. Then I hear someone calling my name from downstairs.
"Bandit! Breakfast is ready! Hurry before it gets cold!"
I absolutely do not want cold food. I slowly roll out without much effort, before I hit the ground face first. I stand up scratching my head, still feeling slightly disoriented from the fall. I look towards my closet with the thought of if I should get dressed or not.
"Mmm, rather not."
I mumble to myself. I walk towards my door and opened it, to find a small purse dog waiting for someone to pet her.
"Hey Chica, how's my good girl?" I say rubbing her belly.
My dog Chica is a seven pound four ounce Teacup chihuahua. She is light brown with dark fir at the tip of her ears. I have had her for about three years or so. I loved her to death. When I walked towards the stairs she ran in front of me, barking.


I rushed down the stairs sort of quickly. The sweet smell of pancakes and syrup filled the house, and I was starving. I walked into my living room, through an archway into the dining room, then through another till I reached the kitchen. My kitchen wasn't that large and it wasn't that small either. It had many light blue oak cabinets with white counter tops. The island in the middle had a rack with pots and pans hanging down from it. There was four windows at the back looking out to our backyard. And there was a round kitchen table in the corner. Mom was sitting there sipping a glass of orange juice and smiling at me. Daddy was at the stove make the golden brown pancakes I had heard of. The smell was even greater since I was smelling it straight from the source.
"Good morning." I said, stretching my arms above my head.
"G'morning honey." Said daddy, he always calls me that.
"Good morning dear." Smiled mom.
My father picked up a plate of pancakes and placed them on the kitchen table.
"Why didn't mom makes pancakes this morning?"
Dad looked at me with a frown.
"I decided to make them this morning. Thought I should start cooking more."
Mom stood up from her chair and gabbed dad's coffee cup,
"But you've got to admit Gerard, my pancakes are amazing."
"Of course they are, I never said they weren't."
Mom leaned over and kissed dad's cheek,
"More coffee?"
"Yes please!" He said, beaming with gladness. Dad turned around and finished making the pancake that was on the pan.
"Is this your first time making pancakes?"
"More like third."
"Their not even burnt."
Dad laughed as he put the cakes on a dish.
"What are you trying to say, an amateur can't make good quality pancakes?"
I sat down at the table. "No, it's just I didn't know that you could cook."
On the table was my plate and a glass of orange juice. Dad came over and placed the plate down. Those pancakes were just screaming my name. I picked up two of them with my fork and flopped them down on my plate. I took a sip of orange juice and then drowned the pancakes in sweet-and sticky-syrup. Then dad came and sat by me as mom placed his coffee cup in front of him. My father loves coffee so much, he might possibly love it more than he does smoking cigarettes. I know what your thinking; yeah it is a bad habit, but he's always done it, and he says he's never gonna stop. As I devoured the first pancake, daddy began to speak.
"So Bandit, how would you like to have a father-daughter day today, after all is is the first day of summer vacation."
I finished eating the peice that was in my mouth as I thought. I kind of just want to stay home today. "Actually daddy, I wanted to stay home today."
He looked disappointed. "I guarantee that you will love where I'm taking you."
"But daddy I said I-"
"No buts, your going." He took a sip of his coffee and then left the room. I can't believe he is forcing me to go somewhere I really don't want to go to. I let go of my fork and it fell to the table.
"Now Bandit," Mom said,"I'm positive once you find out where you're going you will love it."
"How do you know that? What if he's taking me to a library?"
Mom laughed. "I can assure you he isn't taking you to the library."
"Then what is it..?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't get an answer out of her.
"You're going to record things, and that's all I'm going to say."
Mom stood up and grabbed my plate, taking it to the sink. I sighed. Might as well go get ready, since I am actually going somewhere.



It was about 2:00 now and daddy and I were in the car.
"So where are we goin?" I asked.
He re-adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, "Don't worry, it's a surprise."
I crossed my arms. I still wasn't happy about going to where ever we were.
"Well, I have my guitar lessons in an hour, and I don't want to be late."
Dad looked over to me, raising an eyebrow, "Frank comes to our house to give you those lessons. If anything, he will be late."
I rolled my eyes and looked out the window.
"Don't look so grumpy," Dad said, "were going to be driving for atleast an hour more."
My eyes grew wide. "I just told you I have my-"
"Bandit, what were going to be doing is much more exciting and much more important than your guitar lessons."
I leaned back in my seat, while pulling out my phone and headphones. I put them in and blasted the music. I'd rather be at home blasting my music and dancing around than sitting in a car with my dad.


Just as dad predicted, an hour later we arrived in southern New York, if I'm correct I think we were in Midtown.
"Dad, where are we...?" I asked, being slightly unfimilar with my surroundings.
"Bandit my dear, we are at Reprise records."
I felt like my heart just stopped. This is the place where daddy and his band became famous. Why am I here? What is he planning? We hopped out of the car and walked up to the big glass double doors. This was seriously insane.
Dad opened the door for me and we walked in. The lobby was gigantic. There was a tall pillar in the middle of the room with what looked like couches around it. There were records hanging all along the walls. Micheal Bublé, Josh Groban, Green Day, Blake Shelton, Stevie Nicks. My thoughts kept wandering through my mind as I wanted the answer to why I was here. Dad walked over and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
"Bandit, did I ever tell you how talented you are?"
That made me smile. "Yes, you always tell me that."
"Well," he said smiling, "I have connections with people here, even after years of not working with them, and I set up a meeting for you to record some stuff, and they would love to hear you sing."

My jaw dropped to the floor. This. Was. Unbelievable. Could I possibly be getting a record deal at one of the most amazing record labels ever? I started to jump up and down when dad put his hand on my shoulder and pointed to a tall middle-aged man coming out of the elevator. He had a goatee and dark brown glasses. He wore a light brown fadora with a tan shirt and pants. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his dozens of tattoos and a leather bracelet.
"Bandit Way," he said, stretching out the a's, "I finally get to meet you, and the pleasure is all mine." His hand reached out, wanting to shake mine and I accepted.
"My name is Mr. McGraw. I am currently the CEO of Reprise Records. Your father has told me so much about you."
I looked up to my dad smiling.
"Why don't we go upstairs to my office and talk?"

We followed Mr. McGraw to the elevator, pressing the fourteenth floor button.
"Your father was very talented when he worked with us and I have high expectations for you." He said firmly.
My palms grew sweaty and my nerves increased. Why did he say that..? He knew that would make any newcomer nervous.
Before we knew it, we were at the fourteenth floor. Offices and cubicles lined the hall, as well as even more records along the walls. People gave us stares and glances full of smiles. I figured they recognized dad.
"Gee, is that you? Looking good." Said a deep voice.
As we walked past I tugged in dad's arm. "Was that Billie from Green Day?.." I questioned.
"Yeah, remember I told you we opened for one of their concerts, we stayed in connections ever since."
One long walk later and we reached the office. It was a big office with large windows at the front, with the desk in front of them. Couches, bookshelves, and more records filled this room. It was crazy. We sat down in some chairs and Mr. McGraw sat behind his desk. He leaned into it and folded his hands.
"So Bandit, tell me a bit about yourself."
Rule number one: don't ever ask me that. I will never in a million years know what to say.
"I like music, shopping, art, and dogs.. Socializing.. Ya know.." I tried to act calm, kind of worked...
"Just like every other teenage girl out there." He laughed.
"About your voice," he asked, why did he have to ask.. "Did you have anything ready to sing?"
I looked over to dad, he didn't tell me about this so I didn't have anything prepared. Then I remembered something.
"I do.. If it would be okay for daddy to sing with me."
"Oh how cute Gerard, she still calls you daddy." Mr. McGraw laughed and dad did a little. I started to blush and looked down to the floor.
"Yeah, it'd be okay. There's a booth over there. Get in and we'll get you set up."
I pushed up from my chair and walked over to the booth. It had two mics and a table with a whole lot of buttons on it. I walked in, sitting on a stool. I put the headphones on and took a deep breath. Daddy walked in shortly after, standing next to me with his own set of headphones. Mr. McGraw sat at the table and gave us a thumbs up. He had my phone and was playing the instrumental to the song we were going to sing. As the music began, I was in a totally different world.
"The day we met, frozen I held my breath.
Right from the start, I knew I had found the home for my heart,
Beats fast, colors and promises,
How to be brave, how can I love when I'm afraid,
To fall, watching you stand, alone,
All of my doubts suddenly goes away somehow,
One step closer."
I smiled against the mic. Nothing else mattered, I was in the world of music, I was at peace.
"I have died everyday, waiting for you.
Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years,
I'll love you for a thousand more."
I looked over to daddy. He was smiling at me. Then I looked to Mr. McGraw, and he looked well...yeah.. Then I heard a beautiful and familiar voice begin to sing.
"Time stands still. Beauty and all she is,
I will be brave, I will not let anything take away,
What's standing in front of me,
Every breath, every hour has come to this..."
We both sang together, our voices harmonizing.
"One step closer."
Mr. McGraw raised his hand, then crossing his arms while scratching his chin. He smiled.
"You have a wonderful voice, and great potential. I'd love to hear you again."
I jumped off the stool. "Really?"
"Yeah why not. So what do you say?"
I don't even know what to think right now, but the answer came out of my mouth so quickly, I doubt I even thought for a moment.

Notes

**NOTICE, THIS IS THE UPDATED VERSION OF THIS CHATPER**
Hello everyone! It's nice to meet you all. I'm new to this website but not new to writing. I think I know what I'm doing..... :) Anyways, this is my first MCR Fan Fiction. I would really freakin' appreciate it if you guys read, and told me what you think. Comment please? Thank you so much.

From one Killjoy to the next,

Victoria