The Hardest Part of This Is Leaving You

*Frank's POV*

When got and the car and I abruptly asked the question I'd been wondering.

"When did you stop playing" I wondered aloud. The question hung in the air for a moment and as I revved the engine she looked a bit pained and I wouldn't push it.
"You knew? How? Why didn't say something?" She asked instead as if to get me off track. I wouldn't be detered but I still answered.
"You sounded good, I still want the guys to hear it, but it sounded a bit rusty at the beginning like you needed a moment to remember, I didn't say anything because Robin just looked so happy" I responded looking ahead and biting my lip a bit, my teeth clanked against my liprings metal, as I wondered whather to ask again. Trying to not step over an unforseen boundary.
"I was 11 when I stopped....." She began quietly chocking the dead air that had hung between us before.
"My dad was always a lush, a druggie while I was growing up Robin and I would always run off the moment they started screaming.... we thought it was normal.... I would play guitar, to drown out the sounds of my mom crying and the sounds of skin hitting skin or a chair smacking against the wall....And I would cling unto Robin as I was playing the moment I got that riff it was ours....I would always play it......When I was 8 we ran away.... We packed up and it was living on bad gas station food from one hotel to another to another and we were each other's best friends...when he had a nightmare about him I would hum the riff to him until he was okay agian...... we ran like that for 2 years and finally my mom moved here settled down and started nursing school.... that only lasted about a year.... He found us....He hit mom....Spit in her face and screamed 'I Dont want the Fucking girl shes your insane daughter not mine, her problems are your fault, I want the fucking boy' ...He took Robin and I hid my guitar in the back of my closet I stopped wanting to live....Mom had to homeschool me because I wouldn't, couldn't leave the house...when he came back he said he was better but it was years until I would see Robin again....and now that he's in college we get visits more often....but he hasn't asked about the damn guitar until now" I pulled over to the side of road. She was near tears during the whole story but she came to the end and her voice cracked and she bagan crying. I pulled her tight into my arms.
"Youve gotta fight,
You've got to live,
You have a right,
Your life's not over yet,
You've gotta story to tell,
And someone to listen,
You've gotta fight"
I sang quietly until she sniffles one last time.

Notes