A/N Hey guys, here is the chapter. Warning you may need to grab a few tissues. Enjoy!
Melissa's POV

I quickly shut the door behind me. Every word of their conversation played out in my head but the short man's, I still didn't know his name, words were the loudest.

'What is her mom an alcoholic too?'

I was holding back my tears but my eyes felt like a dam about to burst. Just as I disappeared down the fourth floor stairs I heard the apartment door open and Uncle Shelly called my name but I didn't turn back. Just before reaching the third floor landing I ran into Penny but I pushed past her. I kept running down the stairs until I finally reached the lobby and ran out into the crisp night air. Turns out Uncle Shelly was right, I did need a jacket.

Finally I let one tear roll down my cheek but blinked the rest back. I pulled out my phone and waited for the person on the other line to pick up. "Hey Aly. I, uh, can't go to the mall tonight. I have tons of homework to do... Yea, maybe Saturday. Ok, see you at school tomorrow." I hung up the phone and sighed.

I turned off my cell phone, stuffed it back in my pocket, and started walking down the street away from the apartment building. I didn't know where I was going but it was somewhere that wasn't here.

I don't know how long I had been walking but it was starting to get dark. Hundreds of thoughts floated around my head and tears still threatened to fall.

Finally I stopped walking and looked at the building in front of me. Quietly I entered and looked around. There was a high arched ceiling, beautiful stained glass windows, and a huge pipe organ. It was dimly lit with candles at the front and along the walls. This church reminded me of the one I went to when I was little with Mom, Dad, Meemaw, and Aunt Missy. After Mom's death Dad stopped going. Occasionally I would still go with Meemaw but eventually I stopped going too.

I took a seat near the back and finally two dams broke. I was flooded with tears and memories. I remember her laugh. I remember her smile. I remember how she would say, "Goodnight don't let the bed bugs bite" every night when she tucked me into bed.

Quietly I sat there and let the tears and memories drown out the silence. After minutes or maybe it was hours, I don't really know, I heard soft footsteps enter the room. Looking behind me a saw a kindly looking man with short white hair and kind, wise eyes walking towards me. From the way he was dressed I could tell he was a pastor. Finally he was standing next to where I was sitting and out of his pocket he pulled out a tissue and silently offered it to me. Quietly I took it and after wiping my face I finally spoke, "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't be in here," my voice broken with sadness.

He quietly sat next to me and said, "Nonsense, child. Everyone is welcome here, especially in times of trouble," in a calm, soothing tone. "Now what is it that is troubling you, child?"

I sniffled and wiped my face one more time before beginning to answer his question, "Well I've been staying here in Pasadena with my uncle and I heard him talking with some of his friends and one of them said something and it just, just really struck a chord." I began to tell him about the conversation I overheard and about what Uncle Shelly's friend said, the words that were still spinning in my head. The pastor sat there quietly and listened and somehow I felt that I could finally let out everything I had been bottling up for years.

I told him that I was staying with my uncle because my dad was an alcoholic. And I began to open up to him about something I had never really opened up to anyone about, Mom. When I was four she was diagnosed with breast cancer and the doctors gave her two years to live. At such a tender, young age I watched her struggle. For the first few months everything seemed fine, not much changed, but soon things started to go downhill. She started going in and out of the hospital for chemo treatments. At first it looked like they were working but that was just an illusion.

Soon the chemo started to weaken her immune system. She started getting sick more and more often and she got weaker and weaker. And then the cancer got stronger, it spread more rapidly. Back then I didn't really understand what was going on, I just knew that "Mommy was sick". By the end of the first year after the diagnosis she was in the hospital permanently. She had long ago lost her long, brown hair to the chemo treatments, her brown eyes began to lose their sparkle, and her radiant smile dimmed. Dad always stayed by her side and I often saw him cry at home when he thought I was asleep.

Nearly two years after her diagnosis it was my sixth birthday. Dad and I spent the whole day at the hospital with Mom. We had a small party of our own in her hospital room. Later that evening
Dad had gone to Meemaw's house to talk to her and I begged him to let me stay a little longer at the hospital with Mom. After five minutes of giving him my best puppy dog eyes he finally relented and agreed to pick me back up to go home an hour later.

I sat there in the big chair next to her bed and she read me story after story. Finally a half-hour later she stopped reading and she just looked at me for a moment. Her eyes were sad and she let a single tear roll down her cheek. "Don't cry Mommy," I told her and she nodded her head and wiped the tear away. She patted the spot on the bed next to her and I climbed onto the hospital bed. For a few minutes she just held me and stroked my hair then finally she looked down into my eyes and spoke, "I love you, baby girl. And don't you ever forget that. Happy birthday, sweetie."

The next morning she died. "Mommy was gone." Dad was a wreck. He didn't know how to live without her. Soon he turned to drinking. For the first three years after her death, alcohol ruled his life. Finally he began to get help and started to cut back. After the first five years he was sober, with the exception of one day a year, the anniversary of Mom's death. But a few months ago as my sixteenth birthday and the tenth anniversary of Mom's death approached it was too much and he returned to the bottle. And here I am now in a church in Pasadena pouring out the tragedy that is my life to a kindly pastor. This whole time while a sobbed out my story he sat there listening intently, compassion in his eyes. Finally after I finished he offered me another tissue which I gladly took. After giving me a moment he spoke, "I am very sorry child for the loss of your mother. But you forgot to add something very important to your story, how do you feel? About your Mom? Your Dad?"

I looked down and sniffled before looking back up at him, "Well of course I was sad and heartbroken about my Mom."

"However…" he prompted.

"I guess I'm also kind of angry at my Dad. I mean I know he was sad and heartbroken but so was I. And he was selfish. When he was drinking he was only thinking about his own pain but I hurt too," I said my voice angry yet still full of tears. "I mean I was only six and I needed him more than ever. I needed him to be both Mom and Dad but he was neither. I needed him and he was out drowning his sorrows in alcohol. I mean of course I had other family and they were wonderful, they are wonderful. But I needed him the most and he wasn't there."

I paused for a moment and wiped the last of my tears and I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. "Thank you," I said to him as he quietly patted my hand and gave me another kind look, "It actually feels really good to finally say all this stuff."

"It's not good to keep your feelings bottled up for so long, child," he said in his same calm, soothing tone, "Now I think you should probably be getting home, it's late, I'm sure your uncle is worried about you. And remember you can always come here if you want to talk or if you simply need a quiet moment." He stood and began to walk out of the sanctuary. After he disappeared I took a deep breath and shakily stood up. Quietly as I had entered the building, I exited. As the cool night air hit my face, I reached into my pocket and turned on my phone.

Crap, I'm in so much trouble.

Looking down at my phone I saw over thirty missed calls, over twenty voicemails, and numerous texts all from Uncle Shelly. Then I looked at the time: 2:30 am. Crap, I'm in so, so much trouble.

Quickly I began walking back to the apartment building, making it there in record time. Once in the building I practically sprinted up the stairs to the fourth floor. Once I reached the apartment I quickly pulled out my key and tried to open the door as quietly as I could then quietly closed it. Slowly I turned around and two figures who were talking in hushed voices turned to look at me. Leonard and Penny. "Um, hi," I said timidly.

"Hi," Penny and Leonard said in unison.

"Um, where's Uncle Shelly," I asked nervously.

Penny and Leonard shared a look then turned back to me. "He called Amy to take him out to go look for you. He was worried sick," Penny said.

"Um, yeah I just saw all the texts and missed calls on my phone," I said trying not to look at them.

It was quiet for a moment before Leonard spoke up, "I'm going to go call Sheldon and tell him Melissa's okay," and he got out his phone and headed toward the back hallway.

Crap. I am in so, so, so much trouble.

A/N Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you guys have been enjoying the story so far. Don't forget to review, I love hearing what you guys think.

~SSGirl