"Bridget, can I talk to you for a minute?"
I cringed. I hated those words, especially when the came from my dad. Nothing had been the same between us since the night at the concert. "Yeah, one sec."
I went into the family room with him. "What's up?"
He sighed, "Okay, it hurts me to do this, it really does. But I need you to do two things for me."
I looked at him. "Uh-huh. Are you gonna tell me what the are?"
"Yes." Oh no. When he doesn't even acknowledge my attitude, I know something's wrong. "First, you need to stop hanging out with Bradley."
"Um, no."
"Second," he continued, unphased, "You are to stop listening to that band at the concert."
"All Time Low? You want me to stop listening to my favorite band."
He nodded. "Yes. I believe the band got you into this mess in the first place. And then Bradley added to that. If you get rid of both, you'll be happier."
"Dad, do you realize you're taking away both of my lifelines?" I said, with sort of a hollow voice.
"Again, bands don't save lives. And you'll make new, better friends."
"Bradley's changed. And I'm not going to stop listening to the band that's helped me through so much."
"You'll do what I say. You don't realize it now, but I'm doing what's best for you. You'll thank me later. Go ahead and delete the music. I want those CDs."
I turned and walked away. What the hell brought this on? I was doing so well. I hadn't self harmed in so long. It had been all uphill since that night with Alex. Everything seemed to be getting back on track. How could he do this to me?
I made up my mind. I was leaving tonight, one way or another.

Notes

Of course, things can't stay perfect forever, no matter how much we want them to.
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