Just A Few Questions
People always say they understand when they don't. They may understand why you feel a certain way, but they can't understand the actual pain. I think even people who have gone through the same thing, can't always understand what it's like for the other person. I think heartbreak, grief, fear, and various forms of pain are different for everyone. It's the same as coping, we all do it differently. I think the only thing the same is the empty pain in your heart. And you know how science is always explaining emotions like "love"? I'd really like to hear their explanation of that pain in my heart. Maybe it's not really my heart; maybe it's my soul, buried deep in my chest sending that pain to the surface and opening the floodgates. And maybe that's why it's such an empty pain, the floodgates of my soul are opening and escaping out of my eyes, leaving it completely vacant.
It's really odd, because I had been thinking of my own mothers' death more and more. I wrote that song about her, I went to her grave drunk, and I still miss her like hell. Maybe "hell" isn't an appropriate way to describe how much you miss a dead person, but I don't think there's a strong enough word to really explain how much I miss her. It is like hell, though… the grief… the pain. If there is a hell, it wouldn't be filled with fire like people think; it would be filled with emotional pain.
I never gave too much thought to how my mother's death affected my father. I knew he missed her, of course, and he cried...but he kept on a brave face, at least around us kids. It must have killed him -at least a piece of him- when she died. It was something sudden and unexpected, and unfair. I was too young to grasp death, and it wasn't until I got older did I really start to grieve. But my dad, he understood it... so how could he even go on? And what about Mamaw? I didn't know. All I knew was he seemed so tired and sad on the phone that night. It was like listening to someone else's voice. The words, "I don't know" lingered in my mind. How could my father say such a thing? He has to know. Dads always know, right? Why wasn't he optimistic? He's supposed to tell me everything will be alright.
But nothing was alright. Everything was completely and utterly wrong; out of place. I was developing a serious drug problem, which led me to Promises. I was also drinking...and losing myself completely.
The pain was unbearable, and of course I didn't try praying for strength. In my mind, if God really existed then I wanted nothing to do with Him. I didn't want his help -- you don't want help from someone you hate so badly. I kept thinking of all the cruel things in this world and wondered just why he allowed them to happen? Thoughts that I never think, unless a accidentally turn on Montel or Maury, or one of those shows. Things like little babies with cancer, children being molested by their fathers, fourteen year old girls being married off to men older than my dad at polygamist sects, human trafficking, kids starving in third world countries...If God is our so-called loving Father, why does he allow these things? Why is he allowing me so much pain? I wanted to know that answer more than anything.
My phone started ringing, so I picked it up. It was a model friend of Hannah's, Tiffany, calling to let me know about a party. "I don't know if you'll want to go, though. This one's going to be pretty wild," she said, "But lots of celebs are coming. No harm in enjoying some celebrity eye candy, right?"
I was offended that she thought the party would be too wild for me. Tiffany was 18 years old, and always treated me like a child. I used to not mind. I didn't hang out with her much, except at parties and gigs Hannah had to attend. We weren't really friends. We just hung out every now and then. But I'd show her though, that no party is too wild for Hannah Montana.
When I got there, I was slightly disappointed. It wasn't like there were any A-List celebs there. No Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom. I did spot a few familiar faces including Jesse McCartney, Jake Ryan, MiKayla, Jayne, and Cory. Jayne waved at me as I walked by, and Cory gave me a smug look. I went straight for the alcohol, where I saw Tiffany. She was drinking with a few other models, who I don't know the names of. I grabbed a can of beer. They were all sitting on a round sofa, beside a table filled with all sorts of greasy food.
Tiffany saw me and opened her eyes wide, "Well, who knew Hannah was such a party girl! Come over here girl!"
I took a seat next to Tiffany, and suddenly felt very insecure. She was tall, skinny, and blonde. Even with my blonde Hannah wig, I was pretty...average. I wasn't extraordinary. According to that photographer, I was fat. Fat, fat, fat.
I opened my can of beer and smiled at everyone. "When I have time, I'm as wild as the rest of you." I lied. I really wasn't wild; I was just depressed, confused and at times, curious.
"Here," Tiffany pointed to the platter of onion rings, "have some!"
"How can you guys eat that without gaining like 50 pounds?" I asked.
Two of the other models giggled at me, and then Tiffany gave them a warning look. "Just exercise! I run five miles everyday and I have a personal trainer."
"That's not all, Tiff." the snow-white looking model commented. She had shiny black hair and bright red lips. I envied her beauty.
"Shut up. I only do it when I have to."
"Do what?" I ask.
"She purges. You know --"
"I know." I said a little uncomfortably.
"It's really bad, though," Tiffany warned, "I only do it if I over-eat. In fact, I'd probably throw up anyways. I just give myself a head start."
Eventually the subject changed from Bulimia to boys. The girls started talking about sex, and I decided to leave the table. I was working on my fourth can of beer, which I didn't really like that much. It tasted horrid and didn't provide the numbing the whiskey did. I decided to see if they had any other beverages. I knew they had wine, which would taste much better. I eventually got my hands on some strawberry wine coolers. There was no whiskey to be found there.
I found Cory, and in my drunken state of mind, thought it would be a good idea to dance with him. "You're not yelling at me or giving me a pissed off look, should I be afraid?"
"No... I just want to dance."
"You're drunk," he observed.
"A little" I replied honestly.
"Well, as much as I'd love to dance with you, Hannah, I rather not. I better get going...I have to be at the studio early tomorrow."
When Cory walked away, a man with long, black hair approached me. He was the tackiest, but oddly the most attractive guy there. He was wearing a T-Shirt made of hemp, no doubt. It was obvious just by one glance he was a stoner boy. He took my hand, and when he asked me to dance, I said yes.
I danced with him for five songs, without saying a word. It was peaceful and fun and amazingly not like me. It felt so freeing and powerful. After the fifth song, he started pulling me along to a hallway, where there were private rooms. I tried to protest, but my head was spinning too much.
Before we reach any of the rooms I hear an oddly familiar voice squealing my name. "Hannah! I've been looking for you absolutely everywhere."
Stoner Boy stops walking and raises his eyebrow behind us. I spin around and see MiKayala. "What?" I ask.
As if we were BFF's, MiKayla grabs onto my wrist and starts pulling me away from Stoner Boy. "I so have to introduce you to someone! Come on!"
"Uh, see you later?" I said to Stoner.
He seemed annoyed, but walked back out to the dance floor. MiKayla led me over to where I had been sitting with Tiffany earlier, where the music wasn't as loud.
"Are you stupid?" she asks me, her friendliness dissolving within seconds. "You could have gotten raped. I'm sure you don't willingly want to lose it to that guy." She looked disgusted.
"What?" I ask again, my head spinning.
"You've got to be careful, Hannah. These parties get wild, and there are a lot of guys here who would take advantage of someone as drunk as you. I know this is like your first big-girl party, but there's something things you need to learn. If you get stuck with a guy and can't get away, there are code words."
Mikayla continued on to explain the code words to shout randomly or excuses escaping from a guy like Stoner. "I still hate you, but if you're going to jump into this lifestyle, you sure as hell better know how to live it."
It wasn't until my hangover the next day eased, did I realize the seriousness of the situation. I could have been raped. My enemy saved me. I almost lost my virginity to guy who was more than likely the typical vegan stoner boy, whose life revolved around sex. And yes, I knew the kind of guys. I may have been completely innocent, but I did go to high school.
That afternoon, Dad called and Mamaw wanted to speak to me. I didn't know if I could without crying, but I had no choice. I answered the phone.
"How's my girl doing?"
How could she ask how I'm doing?!
"I'm good", I lied. How many people are really honest when answered that question? And out of habit, I asked "You?"
"Just fine." she said, her voice different. "Don't worry about me, Miley. I'm in God's hands… the safest place in the world."
I didn't know whether to believe her, but a safe place sounded real good right about now.
Hey, guys! So, you can basically blame Gossip Girl books and this jerk I know for Stoner Boy. Had no intention of making him, he just came in. Anyway, thank you Jesus.Lives for beta reading :)