Amber’s POV:

As I parked the car into the garage of my house, I pondered about what happened only hours earlier. Paul Higgins, bodyguard/tour manager of One Direction, was at our little café… It took me a while to sink it in, and the fact that they will be back tomorrow a lot longer.. They’re coming tomorrow...

My lips involuntarily created a smile on my face as the thought processed in my head. I'm going to actually meet them! What should I do? How should I act? What if they think I’m a freak?! Oh no... Maybe I should have Chasity take their order... Paul won’t remember me, right? What if he forgot already? Maybe he won’t actually show up? He won't... Oh God, I don't think I'll be able to control myself... That feeling is coming back. Too many thoughts Amber, slow down.

My head begins to pound as these thoughts continue to flood my mind, forcing me to massage my temple. Walking to my front door, I reach for the key in my jean pocket with my free hand. I opened the door to my house to see my drunk father, chugging down yet another beer, not giving two shits as my mother continued to argue with him in the living room, God knows why today.

"How come this is happening again? I thought you had this taken care of already! What do you think they are going to when-" She stopped yelling once I was in her sight, quickly pointing upstairs. "Go. Don't argue with me." This is how it usually is whenever I'm home. There's always an argument whenever I come home, I am shunned away for later, or for the whole day.

I walk up the steps quietly and down the usual hallway, placing the keys into my bag before stepping into my room to grab some pajamas. I walk back out to the hallway, hearing my mother's voice echo before another glass shatter. Shaking my head, I proceeded to the bathroom and undressed, hopping into the shower. The warm water immediately clearing my mind and soothing the tension in my body.

I take my shampoo and massage it into my scalp, feeling it bubble up. I hope that I got all of the coffee out of my hair. I still can’t believe that she is still treating me this way. Marissa has been treating me like this since middle school, just because one of her now exes wanted to talk to me and not with her during lunch for one day. She turns all of the little things into a big deal, when it is not necessary. She aggravates me so much.

Hoping that I got all/most of the coffee off of my body, and soaped myself clean, I turned off the shower and dried myself off with my fluffy towel. Once I got re-dressed in my sleepwear and had taken care of personal hygiene, I grabbed my phone that sat on the sink to see if anyone texted me. I only got a couple from Chasity, of course. I began to scroll through the texts while leaving the bathroom to head into my bedroom, stopping at the sound of my sisters’ giggles. I faced inside their room seeing them play tea-party.

The room’s walls were painted a light coat of pink and had the Disney Princess Fatheads scattered around the room in multiple sizes. Their beds were side by side, a night stand in between. The beds were covered with red blankets and white fluffy pillows, topping with a hundred stuffed animals. They were dressed up in their pink tutus and had those fake crowns with the plastic jewels on their small heads, but it was still adorable either way. Something felt different when I walked in, as if there was a shift in my head.

My brain begins to play with my sight, swirling around different possibilities why before choosing one, forcing me to shut my eyes and lean against the door frame. My vision soon went black, as an image began to appear in my mind. The sound came in, sadly since it was mostly screams of bloody murder as usual.

"Please, stop, OW. I sorry!" I saw the little girl screaming out to the door in her bedroom, pleading for help, as her what appears-to-be drunken father repeatedly hitting her across the back. I looked to the side to see a spilled cup of what seemed to be apple juice, staining the tan rug that the mother was working frantically to remove, grumbling to herself.

"Do you know how much this is a pain for me to do? Honestly...To think you would have learned by now." She shakes her head, scrubbing the stain harder. The father figure began to hit her harder, forcing her to back away into the corner of her small bed, but was still in reach since he was about 6'5.

"Stop hurting her!" I yelled out. It hurts my heart to see this. I reached for the father, ready to yank him away, but my hand passed through his shoulder. I stood in shock, feeling unhelpful to the situation at hand.

"I sorry mama, I sorry!" The little girl apologizes, choking on her tears.

With that, the father stopped, took one last gulp of the beer that he gripped in his hand and walked out. I honestly felt like the bottle was about to shatter with the tight pressure. The mother followed soon after when she removed the stain, leaving the little girl to push the covers back, lying down on her side, tucking herself in and holding her legs up to her chest, all while continuing to silently sob into her pillow. The sight just brought tears to my eyes. Why am I always seeing this?

I began to approach her, walking around the discarded clothing and toys on the floor. She quickly bolts up and jumps out of bed, scaring me for a second. She crawls underneath her bed, soon coming out with a doll and brought it to her chest, whispering to it.

"One day, right?" She whispers, squeezing it closer to her. "One day they will believe me. You know that I didn't do that." She pets the head of the doll. "One day they will understand, and they will be the ones who are sorry. Then they will love me, right?" She asks the doll, holding it out to arms-length, waiting for the response that never came. She brought it back to her regardless. "I know you love me." She sniffles, making tear roll down my cheek. "They will be proud of me, one day."


“Ambey!” My sisters called out to me. I jumped and scanned the room for danger of some sort. They both had looks of confusion while smiling slightly. I smiled back while shaking my head, glad that it's over.

"Is Ambey okay?" One of them asks me. After all these years of trying to teach them my name, Ambey is as close as they could get so far. I don't mind at all.

“Hey. How are my two favorite girls doing?” I asked them. Hope, the younger one, spoke up.

“We play tea-party! Come play?” She asked while pouting. I looked over to Charisa, the older one, and she had the same face. I sighed in defeat. The pout face runs in the family, if you couldn't already tell, and they have the best ones.

“Alright.” I said as I shoved my phone into my back pocket and sat down by the short table, filled with colorful plastic cups and plates. Charisa handed me my light blue cup along with its plate and began to pour me imaginary tea. I nodded at her, saying thank you before sipping the empty cup.

“Sis?” Hope asked me. I made a hum noise to let her know she had my attention.

“Why mommy and daddy yelling at each other still?” She asks sadly. I placed the plastic tea-cup down on the table and moved my hands so they were on my lap. At this point, they could be arguing about anything, the entire time it was different ways to give the two girls what they wanted without killing our bank account…

“To be honest Hope, I-" I was interrupted by a loud crashing sound, following with a bloody scream from my mother, causing us all to jump a good couple feet from the ground from the sound.

“Mommy!!!!” The girls yell in unison, getting up at the same time. I held them back and got up myself.

“Girls, stay here.” I instructed them.

“What happen Ambey?” Charisa asked me, looking like she was about to cry. Hope was already crying softly into her stuffed animal.

“I don’t know, but I will find out. You two, stay here.” I told them. They nodded their heads, fear coming over their faces. It brought a frown to my mouth at the thought of them scared.

“No matter what you hear, stay in your room. Don’t open the door unless it’s me, alright?” I spoke sternly but gently to them. They nodded their heads and ran into their beds.

I walked out of the room, making sure the door was locked behind me before investigating the sudden commotion. I looked out the window to the front of the house and saw our neighbors peering in, trying to see what was going on as well. I walked over to the living room where they last were to see it unoccupied.

The whole room absolutely reeked of alcohol even more than when I came home and its source was the kitchen. Cautiously, I peered around the corner to see my father is on the floor, his face turning blue with shards of the beer bottle covering him, impaling his arms and torso with dark red blood slowly spilling out of him. I covered my mouth with my hand and looked to see my mother frantically on the phone, calling for help.

“Mom, what happened?!” I asked her seconds after she hangs up. She looked at me with the salty tears brimming her eyes as she placed the phone back on the counter, breathing heavily.

“What happened?” I asked again, not bearing to see my father in his condition.

“He drank too much alcohol, I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t stop. He ended up throwing the beer bottle at the wall, but the shards bounced back and cut him.” She said, holding back tears.

The sirens soon went off outside, before a frantic knock was at the door. I hurriedly ran over, leaving my mother's side and opening the door for the paramedics as they rushed inside. I led them to the kitchen to inspect my father.

“What happened?” One of the paramedics asked my mother and I. I looked over to my mother, as she is unable to speak.

“He's intoxicated and he threw the bottle against the wall, shattering it upon him.” I explained. He nodded as if agreeing. They brought in a gurney and lifted my father onto it before bringing him to the open ambulance waiting outside. The same paramedic that questioned the situation came back in.

“We are going to bring him to the hospital and work from there. Would you like to come in the ambulance?” He asks. My mother immediately nodded her head, and was about to follow the man out until she suddenly stopped, noticing that I wasn’t behind her.

“Come on Amber!” She commanded, gesturing her hands to the open ambulance. Moment over, I guess. I shook my head.

“I will meet you there. Let me get the girls ready.” I turned on my heel, walking back up the staircase, not giving her time to argue. I knocked on their door, letting them know it was me. I waited impatiently as I heard them scurry off of their beds to the door, unlocking it for me. I opened the door and gently but quickly closed it behind me.

“Ambey, why are there people at the front of our house?” Charisa asked me, pointing out the window. I walked over there to see all the neighbors surround the ambulance as they watched the paramedics help my mother into the ambulance, shutting the door behind them and taking off. The siren and the flashing lights went off as they drove down the street.

“Come on girls, we’re going to the hospital.” I said as I grabbed my bag off the floor and taking out the keys to the car I just used, which was my dad’s old car, but he let me have it.

They grabbed any toys that they would usually take on the road with them, I got the girls into the car, secure and sat in the driver’s seat. I pulled out my phone as I turned the ignition on and let the heat warm up the car. I began to text Chasity the news.

To: Chase:
Going to hospital, my dad drank too much alcohol, don’t know what is going to happen. Probably going to skip tomorrow at work… Tell Mr. Sanchez what happened, please.

Mr. Sanchez is our manager. I won’t be able to work tomorrow, since mom will probably stay at the hospital, and the girls would stay home alone… I sighed but quickly pressed the send button and placed my phone back in my pocket. I pulled out of the house and began to drive to the hospital.

“Is daddy going to be okay, Ambey?” Hope asked me as we are getting close to the hospital, holding onto her stuffed teddy bear tightly. We pulled up to a stop light, allowing me to ease my tension by running my fingers through my hair, sighing.

“I don’t know Hope… Pray that he will be.” I said quietly. The rest of the ride was silent.

Notes

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