I just stare at the letter, feeling empty, it's not what I wanted, I don't want my dad's words I want my dad. The letters slowly start to blur, and soon water drops onto the paper, I quickly wipe my eyes and gently dab the paper dry before folding it up and placing it back in the envelope. I place the letter safely in my dad's burnt journal, one of the last things I have of him. It's black leather, with pages bursting with my dad's brilliant ideas. I rub my fingers over the spine before placing it back in my dresser under my pajamas.

I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling, just watching the chipping white paint like it has all the answers, like it can tell me how to stop drowning. How cane every breath hurt, it takes all my strength to breath in and breath out.

"Dad I can't do this, not without you, Adam, and Bree." I whisper, hoping he can hear me wherever he is.

I sit up and grab the shoes under my bed and tie them. I grab my phone and lock the door after me, leaving the key Douglas gave me under the mat. I walk down the gravel path to the winding empty road. I walk, for seconds, minutes, or hours, I don't know nor care. I feel numb, nothing hurts anymore, not the pain of grief filling my lungs, not the hunger gnawing away at my stomach, not the cool breeze that makes my ears prickle with loss of blood. I am blissfully numb. Eventually I find a path that veers off the road. I don't really care where it goes; I just need to get away.

I hear water tearing through the landscape somewhere and leave the path and follow the noise. I eventually stumble across a waterfall, it's about 50 feet up but the water is shallow. I sit on the edge, if I reach out my left hand the water could run over it, but I don't, instead I let my feet hang off the edge. I watch my worn black converse swing lazily back and forth, and think of the time Bree gave them to me. The pain comes back, my lungs are full with grief and it's to hard to force air in and out, my stomach hurts from lack of food, the breeze is biting at my exposed skin causing Goosebumps to rise on my arms. I don't care though; all I care about is making it go away. I lean forward and see the rushing water below, my stomach drops at the sight and I know if I lean any more I will fall.

I close my eyes and feel the wind bite at my face, and hear the water tear through the land before falling and landing with a roar. I open my eyes and point my head to the sky, staring past the branches that stretch across the sky like webs, to the dark blue sky filled with wispy clouds.

"I'm sorry Dad." I whisper, hoping the wind will take it to his ears.

I close my eyes and lean forward, expecting wind to hit my face, but instead I feel two hands grip my biceps and pull me away, throwing me into the ground. I roughly land on my left shoulder and skid to a stop near the river. Rocks dig into my arm, side, and legs. My head bounces on impact and I feel blood trickle down the side, but it's okay because I can breathe for a moment. The physical pain brings relief from drowning. I lose myself in the pain.

But soon I am brought back when I hear yelling. I open my eyes and blink a few times before the person in front of me becomes clear.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He yells, grabbing me roughly and pulling me to my feet.

He shoves me and I stumble back. I don't fight him though, there's nothing left to fight for.

He has disheveled brown hair, dark brown eyes that are currently narrowed in anger, and he is breathing heavily to calm himself. He is wearing a worn flannel over a white shirt, with an old pair of blue jeans and a pair of dusty boots.

When I don't answer him he stalks forward and grips my shoulders to shake me.

"Are you stupid?" He yells.

I look away, there's nothing to say. I close my eyes as I feel them burn with tears. I was so close to escaping, to becoming free of the weight that tethers me to an empty life.

The boy sighs and lets me go, he begins to pace between the cliff and me as he runs his hands through his hair. He stops and looks at me, he exhales causing his shoulders to fall, "I'm not sorry." His voice is gravely now that he's not yelling.

I haven't moved since he left me here, and right now my bones feel heavy with fatigue. I just stare at him, hoping he will leave me to curl up in a ball and sleep.

He does just the opposite and gently touches my forearm, he puts no pressure and all I feel is the pad of his fingers and the heat that emits from his body. He's waiting for me to break, but I'm far beyond that point.

"My trucks not far from here, I can give you a ride to your uncles." He offers, taking his hand away.

I stiffen in shock and fear, he senses my response and smirks, "Chase, it's a small town, everyone knows everyone and their business. Plus you've been all over the news."

He then grabs me by the elbow and leads me to his car. His hand never leaves my elbow, keeping me grounded to this Earth. When we stop by an old Ford Pick up he lets me go to open the passengers side. When I don't get in, he says, "Don't worry, I'm not a murderer. If I was you would have heard about it by now, this town is full of gossip."

That was not reassuring at all, but I get in anyway.

"Roll the window down, the AC's broken." He instructs as cranks his own window down. I listen to him, and then lean my head back. My head lolls to the right, and I watch the rolling fields go by. The wind washes over my face, causing the tears I didn't notice earlier to hit my temple. But I'm too tired to care and just let it happen. The warmth from the late sun, the heaviness in my bones, and the old country song that softly reaches my ears lulls me to sleep.

I'm awoken when the car gently stops, and the engines quells. It's pitch black outside; the only light comes from the moon. We are stopped outside my uncles' house, and his porch lights try to pierce the night. The driver's door shuts and a figure strides up the gravel driveway and knocks on my uncles' door. The door opens and I see my uncle step out on the porch, and soon they are walking toward the car speaking in hushed tones.

I know I should get out of the car, but I'm too tired to move.

My uncle reaches the door, and I see the worry and fear in his eyes as he scans me. He opens the door, I would have fallen if the seatbelt didn't catch me.

"Chase?" Douglas asks, pushing me back so I don't fall out when he takes the seatbelt off. I can hear the slight tremble of panic in his voice.

"Help me get him out of here." Douglas instructs, and the boy grabs me as Douglas unbuckles the seatbelt. I fall into the boy's chest, and they maneuver me so my arms rest over their shoulders. They are tall enough that my toes skim the ground as they bring me to the house.

Douglas opens the door with his foot and they place me on the couch, the boy stands up and watches me as Douglas goes to the kitchen. I curl up into a ball, ignoring the pain from the way the boy threw me to the ground earlier.

Douglas comes in with a glass of water and a first aid kit, which he places on his coffee table. Douglas shakes the boy's hand, "Thank you Marcus." Douglas's eyes reveal the appreciation he can't put into words.

The boy, Marcus shakes my uncles hand, he seems uncomfortable with the praise. "I'm sorry for hurting him." Marcus apologizes.

Douglas pats him on the back and leads him to the door, "If you want me to call Vic-" Their hushed tones no longer reached my ears.

I hear the front door squeak closed and Marcus's truck back out of the driveway. Before the noise is lost to the wind Douglas is in front of me, sitting on the coffee table. He uses a wash cloth to wipe the blood off of my face, and then places some rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball and presses it to my forehead, I hiss and flinch at the stinging sensation.

Once Douglas is satisfied with me forehead he unclenches my fist from my shirt and untangles my arms from my torso, he takes my hoddie off and then my shirt. He examines the cuts and bruises that are forming on my shoulder and side. He wipes the blood off, and uses the rubbing alcohol again. This time I don't even flinch, I just let the pain momentarily take me away, but it's over all to soon and Douglas is taking my shoes and socks off so I'm left in my jeans. Douglas helps me stand and guides me to the stairs, he follows behind me with a hand hovering behind my back as I slowly take each step. My legs threaten to collapse under me, but we make it upstairs. Douglas sit's me on the toilet seat as he takes all the razors and pills out of the bathroom. By the time he's done the only thing's left are the soaps, empty hamper, and fluffy towel. Douglas turns the water on and helps me stand, he takes my jeans off and throws them out the door, I'm too drained to be embarrassed.

Douglas's brown eyes bore into mine, I shake me head and he leaves the bathroom, the door is open a crack. I can see his shadow under the door waiting for me to finish. The shower is long and cold, leaving trails of Goosebumps along my skin. My teeth are chattering and I'm shivering by the time I get out. I wrap the towel around me and just stare at my reflection in the mirror, my cheeks have hallowed out, I have bags under my lifeless eyes. and my hair is hanging limply in my face.

"Chase?" I hear Douglas call.

"Hmm." I say.

Douglas opens the door, another towel in his hand along with some clothes. He sees the state I'm in and hands them to me, he opens his mouth to say something but then closes it with a click. He leaves me, but I can sense him outside the door.

I don't bother to dry myself off, I just put my boxers on before putting on my basketball shorts. I look at the ugly bruises forming on my side and shoulder; I notice small pinpricks with scabs over them. My shoulder took the brunt of the fall, and is worse off, my legs are fine since they hit the ground last. I wonder what I would have looked like if I reached the bottom of the waterfall.

Douglas walks in as I pull my shirt on; he has my toothbrush and toothpaste. He sits on the toilet and watches me clean my teeth. I feel like a robot, going through the motions as if I was programmed to do it.

Once I'm done I shuffle to my room and lay on my bed, with my back to the door and front to the window. I can smell a storm coming on the horizon, and Douglas moves to shut the window, but I panic, not wanting my air to be cut off. I end up falling off the bed making an animalistic strangled noise. Douglas is at my side in a minute and helps me on the bed.

He grips my shoulders, his nails digging into them, "Chase? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

I shake my head 'no' and then croak, "Please don't shut the window." My voice is hoarse, and it sounds foreign to my ears.

Douglas nods his head as he says, "Okay."

He moves the covers down and situates me so I'm in the middle of the bed facing the window. He places the covers over my shoulder and leaves the room.

I hear thunder roar, and see lighting burn through the sky. The turmoil inside me burns and roars to be released.

Soon Douglas is back, he has a book and a chair, he settles down near the door and begins reading.

I can feel his eyes glance at me every now and then, but I just watch the storm rage on.

A/N This got dark fast. But don't worry; now that Douglas knows the extent of Chase's pain he can help him. I don't know when the next chapter will be ready, and I'm sorry for the late updates.

Please let me know if the rating should be increase.

Also this is being uploaded unedited because I have work early in the morning, and want to post this. If there are any glaring errors please let me know.

Thank you for reading; it means the world to me.