I don't go home that night. When my dad calls me around six, I don't answer. He leaves a message, but I don't listen to it. He's probably asking if I'll be back in time for dinner or if I'll eat something out.

He calls again at eleven. I'm usually back by then. I still don't answer. He leaves another message, but I don't listen to it. I can't. Hearing his voice would only make things worse. I'm afraid of what I'll say to him if I see him tonight. It makes me feel sick to remember all the terrible things I said to Tyler, but part of it was true. I hardly know him. And yet I blamed all my problems on him. I don't even want to begin to imagine the things I might say to my dad.

I'm slumped underneath the pier at two in the morning, at the part the water hasn't reached yet when he calls again. It rings and rings and rings. The headache pounding in my head started about an hour ago and hasn't stopped since. The ringing only makes it worse.

He calls another time. And another time. The fourth time I can't take it anymore. In my delirious state, the thought to silence my phone or turn it off doesn't cross my mind. So, instead, I answer it.

"Scarlett, honey. Talk to me. Tell me that you're okay," he says.

I expected him to be mad. More than mad. I expected him to scream down the phone that I'm selfish. That it was cruel of me to not come home without letting him know where I am. Because it was. But all I could think about was how my mother wasn't going to be there when I went home like she always was, and I couldn't. I just couldn't.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can't get them out. Everything that has happened piles on top of me in that moment and crushes me under its weight. A sob wracks through me. And then another. And another. My throat burns from all the crying I've done. It feels like there's someone inside my head, hitting it over and over again with a hammer. Chipping away at my skull.

"Scarlett, I need you to listen to me, okay? Tell me where you are," he demands. His voice wobbles with fear. I break in half.

"Dad- "

My hands clutch my stomach and claw at my chest as if I could scoop up all the pain and leave it right there on the sand. So, when the tide comes in it can wash it all away. Because I don't want it anymore. I can't bear the weight of it. Not on my own.

"Please," he begs. I can hear his ignition in the background. "I'm coming to get you. Just tell me where you are, honey, okay?"

"The pier," I manage to croak out.

He tells me he's on his way. And not to hang up. I say I won't. But I'm so tired. My eyelids have grown too heavy. I struggle to keep my eyes open. But I do. For my dad. For my mother. I listen to his words telling me that he's almost there and I hold onto them, so sleep doesn't pull me into its arms. Not yet.

I don't know how long it is before my dad finds me. All the tension in my limbs evaporates at the sight of him. He falls to his knees beside me and pulls me into his chest, cupping the back of my head with his hand. He rocks me back and forth, whispering that he's got me and everything's going to be okay now. He holds me together as I cry onto his shoulder, soaking his shirt. And we stay like that for what feels like forever. I don't know when he started crying but by the time we pull away from each other his eyes are red and raw.

"What happened?" He finally asks, placing his hand over mine. His thumb stroking across my skin makes it easier to get the words out.

"I miss her, dad. I really miss her."

He pulls me back into his arms and we break down all over again. Then, he scoops me up as if I weigh nothing and carries me back to the car. And for a single moment, I feel like a little girl again. Wrapped up in my dad's arms without a care in the world. Because he would always make everything better.

It's not long before we're home. He asks if I need help getting to bed but I refuse. I use the last bit of strength I have and crawl up to my bed. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I finally let sleep take me.

I dream of my mother.