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Chapter 5

"Lost and so alone, born but never known, left out on their own. Forgotten Children."

- Tokio Hotel

"I…… I don't know what to say."

No. You never did.

The sky was a dark purple, streaked red and pink right across. The wind blew gently in my hair, but it was a warm on my skin. I didn't look down, but I could tell the ground was far away from the balcony where I stood.

I couldn't see him, I didn't even hear him approach, but the curl of cigarette smoke that floated past me and up into the night, gave him away.

"What will you do?" He asked softly. His thick German accent was soothing to me, like I didn't know any other.

For a few minutes I didn't reply, just watched the grey smoke swirl around the air. I knew my decision, I knew I would stick by it, no matter what happened.

"Nothing."

That was my decision. About my father, I would do nothing. I would not go out of my way to contact him, I would not worry about him, I would not visit him.

This is what he did to me. I've decided I will do the same.

More silence filled the still night. The only movement was the busy people down below, Tom's cigarette smoke had stopped. And I knew why.

Finally, he spoke,

"Scarlett…."

I shook my head slowly,

"You should really quit, you know."

"What?" Tom asked.

"Smoking. It's bad for you."

And that was the conversation over. Tom knew not to say anything, because he knew I wouldn't listen. I had made up my mind, and that was that.

I felt him leave this time. He turned around and walked back into my hotel room, then out the door. In his wake I was left with cold air smelling like his smoke and musky collonge.

For the first time, in a very long time, I felt alone. I was alone because I didn't have Tom by my side.

He didn't agree with me.

2009

Never had I heard Tom shout so loud. Never had his face been so thunderous, his eyes so filled with rage. My heart was beating faster by the minute, I was just waiting for Tom to pounce, I was sure he would sometime.

"I was there!! I was there for everything important!" Jorg Kaulitz yelled almost as loud as his son, but he wasn't as angry, boy was noone as angry as his son.

"What, so the rest of our lives aren't important?! Right now isn't important!?" Tom growled, that's the only way to discribe it.

We were at Bill and Tom's home in Hamburg, Germany, a place we rarely got to these days. The boys had been recording their album for the past 2 weeks, but today was the guitarists day off, which was why Tom and I were the only ones here……until his father arrived.

"You know that's not what I meant." Jorg's voice was low and threatened, as he pointed a finger at Tom in warning.

"No? Then what did you mean?! What did you mean when you said you would keep in touch, huh?! When you promised Bill you would visit every week? WHAT DID YOU MEAN THEN?!" Tom's voice boomed off the walls, and I saw Jorg jump a little.

"I tried, Tom! I TRIED to be a part of your lives! It's not my fault you wouldn't let me!!" Jorg yelled back, going red in the face.

Tom snorted, his death glare still set in his face,

"I wouldn't let you? I WOULDN'T LET YOU? THAT'S your lame excuse?! You have NO IDEA what I wanted! No fucking idea!!"

I stood there, watching Tom and his father fighting, like a spare idiot.

"Your mother wanted you both to live with her, that was not my decision to make! You think I liked not having my sons with me?! YOU THINK I DIDN'T WANT YOU THERE?!" Jorg thundered.

Tom stared at him like he had three heads,

"Just because we didn't live with you, didn't mean we weren't there! It didn't mean you couldn't see us!! THAT was always your choice to make!"

"Your mother wouldn't allow it! She shut me out from you!! When we divorced, she made sure I couldn't do ANYTHING with you!"

That was it. He had pushed Tom over the edge. He pulled his arm back, and then swung it forward, landing his clenched fist right smack into Jorg's face. The crack of his nose made my stomach turn, and Jorg almost fell back from the blow, but Tom grabbed his shirt, keeping him on his feet. He wasn't finished yet.

Tom went in for another punch, which was when I decided to move my legs and interfere, before he knocked his father out cold.

I pulled on Tom's shirt, trying to pull him off Jorg, but he was too strong. He punched him again, this time in the right eye. Jorg was staggering back, but Tom had a good hold on him.

"Tom, stop!" I yelled, trying to squeeze myself between him and Jorg.

"STOP!" Obviously screaming like him was the only way to get his attention. I wedged myself in front of his father. Tom stopped his arm mid-punch, looking down at me.

"Tom, stop it." I said, more gently now, to calm him down.

He looked at my face, and his eyes cleared from the cloud of anger they had before.

"Please?" I reached out and placed my hand over his fist, slowly guiding it back down to his side.

Tom let go of his father's shirt, and Jorg stumbled, but kept standing. Both their breathing was rough, Tom's chest heaving in and out.

I turned to look at Jorg Kaulitz, he was looking at me, for the first time since he'd arrived. He face was old, but I could see so much Tom and Bill in him. Blood poured from his nose, his right eye was half-closed and starting to swell.

"I think you'd better go." I said clearly.

Jorg continued to look at me, his mouth open, one eye wide, but I couldn't read his face. Then, he turned and walked out. Not looking back up at Tom.

Never had Tom liked his father.

I turned back to him, and reached up to wrap my arms around his neck. Tom immediately wrapped his around my waist, and rested his head on my shoulder. Like that we stayed for a while, as Tom cried his heart out.

Never had I, come to think of it.

"Lord, may you show mercy onto the soul of this woman. May you, and all the faithfully departed, bring her into your light of ever-lasting life."

The Priest is loud, I thought, as I stared at the large stone grave in front of me. That was the only thought in my head, as the cold winter wind whipped in my hair and chilled the back of my neck. The cemetery was getting dark, and the large trees overhead didn't help.

She wasn't even Catholic, another thought floating in my head, as I took in the old Priest, wearing his robe and holding a black bible in his hands. He was standing in front of her coffin, making the sign of the cross with his hands over it.

I lowered my eyes back to the original staring position of the stone. Encarved was,

Izobel Rosnovski

1963 - 2010

Odpoczynek w pokoju

"Lord!" The loud Priest boomed, "We ask you to bless her soul, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

With those last words, they lowered my mother into the ground.

I watching, thinking nothing.

Okay! I'm going to be totally honest with you guys! I have NO idea where I'm going with this whole 'father' situation. I mean seriously, I am having a writers block from Hell! I feel stupid for bringing her dad into this, because now he's annoying me and I don't know what to do with him! L

Anyways! I hope you like it! My chapters are very short, aren't they? :/

Opps.

Katie.