Tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything is alright.
Oh, please tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything alright.

I shifted a little in my spot at the park, my legs swinging over the miniature bridge not but 4 feet from the ground. A small smile formed on my lips, remembering when those 4 feet seemed so huge. Those were the days, no worries, no thoughts, nothing but the next adventure, the next hill to climb. I miss those days.

A single tear trailed slowly down my cheek, unnoticed and pointless. No amount of tears has the power to change what happened.

"Melody... Are you alright?"

I stirred slightly at the mention of my name, up until a minute ago I had been alone. No one came to this park anymore, it was rusty and boring compared to the three new parks that had been built not too far away. Obviously I had been wrong in assuming I could be alone here. Still, I was here. Hopefully that was for a reason.

Glancing up I caught sight of Tom, my neighbor and best friend, his shaggy brown hair falling into his pale blue eyes, hiding his eyebrow piercing. I remember when he got that, boy were his parents mad. It was only a few months ago really, when he just turned 18.

"Mel, what happened?" Tom asked, hoisting himself beside me on the small bridge, "It's your birthday, why are you here? Why are you crying?"

I laughed slightly. Ever blunt, Tom never really understood how valuable silence sometimes truly was. He didn't understand a lot of things, I guess, but no human truly does, and Tom was as perfect as I think you could get. True, he wasn't the brightest, but he cared. He was my best friend, and not without reason, so I answered him, unlike I had for many others, "They're doing it again."

His brow knit in confusion momentarily before he realized who, what I was talking about. "What happened this time?" He asked tentatively. I guess he knew somethings. I guess he knew a lot; he knew where to find me, he knew what not to say, and he knew about my family.

"I don't know exactly. Everything was so perfect, they were putting an extra effort through for my birthday, getting along and everything. I guess they wanted to make my 18th birthday special. Well, it will always be a day to remember... I have no idea what went wrong, one minute we were all talking in the kitchen and then they were at each others throats. Mom, mom," my voice started cracking, the sobs choking my throat. When I finally manage to talk again, the words seemed to rip through my throat, all sharp edges and pain, "Mom just collapsed. She couldn't take it, Dad was drinking... Drinking more than usual, even for a bad day, he was throwing things, glass." Another tear slipped down my face, warm and wet, like acid on my face. I nudged off my sweater, ignoring the bitter chill from the fall air, holding out my right arm for him to see. "He gave me this," a thick gash marked my lower arm, hidden under a warm cloth but clearly visible from the blood imprint it left.

Cautiously, Tom removed the cloth, taking careful notice every time I flinched from the pain. Now exposed, the long line on my arm chilled easily, still trickling blood because of it's depth, surrounded hideously by purpling skin. His eyes widened in surprise. He knew a lot, but he never knew somethings.

"You're, you're dad did this?"

I nodded slowly, staring surreptitiously at the ground.

"Is this the first time he's done something like this?"

I shook my head, once again moving slowly, avoiding his gaze.

"And you never told me?"

Again, I shook my head. Why did he have to make this so hard? I didn't mean to decieve him or anything... I just, couldn't tell him, couldn't tell anyone.

"Don't you trust me?"

Give me a reason to end this discussion,
To break with tradition.
To fold and divide.

I stared at him in shock, after all these years did he really doubt that? Doubt me, our friendship?

"Of course I trust you, how could you ever doubt that? You know everything, I've told you everything I could never tell anyone else."

"Obviously not everything," he pointed out, his eyes shining with hurt.

Reaching up, I traced his eyebrow piercing softly with my forefinger, another tear sliding down my face as he flinched from my touch, "Tom, I couldn't tell you... You would tell someone, my Dad... My Dad would go to jail for this. Tom, do you realize what they could do to him?"

"Of course I realize what they could do to him, they could keep him from hurting your mom. Keep him from hurting you."

"NO!" Tears were coming faster now, my body shaking at their force, "You can't do that to him. They can't. He hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Hasn't done anything wrong? Melody, look at you, look at what he's done! Melody, don't you see? You love him, but he's hurting you. Mel, he could kill you. How am I supposed to deal with that? What if one day that's just it, you're gone forever and it's my fault because I never told anyone? Melody, how could I lose you?"

A bitter laugh came forth, scratching my throat, "I'm not so important. My dad is a good man, he does this for a reason... I'm not good enough."

"That's just it though, you're more than enough, he just doesn't see it."

"NO! You're lying!"

Cause I hate the ocean, theme parks and airplanes,
Talking with strangers, waiting in line..
I'm through with these pills that make me sit still.
"Are you feeling fine?"
Yes, I feel just fine.

Tom reached forward, twisting my frame to face him, causing me to realize just how much taller than me he was, even sitting as we were, side by side on a kiddy bridge. Lifting a hand, he tucked a lock of copper colored hair behind my ear, hugging me softly to his chest as I continued to sob. It wasn't enough, it never was. I'm not enough.

"Mel, you have to come with me, we have to fix this."

"No, I can't. I can't do that to my dad," I was choking on every word, clutching to him with my one arm, my right arm lying uselessly by my side, still trickling blood in a small stream, a puddle forming by my side. It was there, in his arms, that I realized how stupid I was, how truly stupid I was. I was denying so much, and for who's good?

"Shhh, it's okay," His arms locked around me, strong, comforting.

Looking up at his face, his worried expression, I finaly asked the question I'd been wondering for so long, "Why do you even care?"

He seemed stunned, as if it was the stupidest question ever, as if I should already know. Still, he answered, "Why shouldn't I? Is it so hard to believe that you're important enough to be cared about?"

"Yeah... I guess it is."

"Melody, it's not something you have a reason for, it just happens, and you go with it."

"But how can you be so sure?"

"I'm not, but I do know that I don't want to look back at how stupid I was for doing nothing, for letting something pass me by just because I wasn't sure it could work. Now come with me, we don't have to turn your father in, I promise. If you're not ready, we won't, but I want you to get your arm checked out."

Tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything is alright.
Oh please tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything is alright.

"Melody, are you alright?"

I was breathing shallowly, looking anywhere but at the man to my left. Clutching Tom's hand so hard I was almost certain I had to be cutting off his blood circulation, I winced with pain as the other man cautiously remedied my arm, a needle piercing and pinching skin as he sewed it back together, still stinging painfully from the hydrogen peroxide.

Laughing shortly with a smile that didn't reach my eyes, I responded, "What do you think?"

"Me? Well, my opinion's not so important. But since you asked, I think you're crushing my hand as revenge."

"Sorry," I loosened my grip slightly, smiling apologetically, only to tighten my hold once more as the needle tugged sharply on my skin.

"It's not so bad. Hey, how about after this I take you out for ice cream, my treat?"

This time I didn't have to think about the smile before it touched upon my lips, "That would be great, but don't you have to go to work?"
"Nope, I called my boss, he was a little angry with me, but said they could work without me for the day."

"Are you nuts? You need that money." His dad had just lost his job, money was short for Tom and his family, how could he give up a day of work? And take me out to ice cream no less?

"Don't worry about it, I'll handle it."

"Tom, you need that money, I can live without ice cream. You should go to work."

"Mel, you're a wreck, whether you'll admit it or not. I'm not leaving you."

Then I felt it, that nervous flitter in my stomach whenever he was in close proximity, whenever he was with me.

I'm sick of the things I do when I'm nervous
Like cleaning the oven or checking my tires
Or counting the number of tiles in the ceiling...
Head for the hills, the kitchen's on fire!

Nervous habits are funny; they're funny in that you never realize them when so many others do. They're funny in that they're always so blatantly obvious to everyone but yourself. They're funny in that they're often things you think you would never do. They're funny in that they often clash horribly with eachother.

I was nervous around Tom, I don't know when I started to be, before or after we were friends, before or after he started caring about me like the good friend he is. As was my nervous habit, I was jumpy, moving practically every second and avoiding eye contact while acting as normal as possible. Which probably clued him in because things weren't as normal as possible. Unless of course him finding out that my father hurt me was defined as normal for him, which I highly doubt.

He was nervous as well, he always was when I told him about my parents fighting, I guess he was more so now that he found out what else my dad did. I honestly didn't see the big deal in it, my dad's not a stupid man, he does what he does for a reason. Right?

Tom's nervous habit was less obvious, except to those who had known him for as long as I. He instead barely moved at all, often clutching the thing he cared about nearest him. Sadly so, that was normally a teddy bear...for an 18 year old. This time, considering we were together outside an ice parlor, it was me. Only, I couldn't sit still with him on his bench, I found myself wiggling around, only for him to clutch me closer. Yeah, weird, if he hadn't been so nervous I might have been worried, instead I let it be, trying to calm myself into sitting still, atleast momentarily.

I couldn't take sitting still, exaspering I burst out, "Let's go somewhere!"

"Like where?" Tom peered down at me, carefully tugging at my arm.

Flinching slightly at his touch, I turned to face the skyline, "I don't know, anywhere."

"Melody, are you okay?"

"You know, I really wish you'd stop asking me that," I rolled my eyes at him, avoiding the question altogether.

"You just don't seem normal, that's all."

"So you'd prefer me on yicky depression pills? Happy pills? Gross."

"That's not what I said, you're avoiding the question and you know it," he persisted.

"Quite plausibly, but I'd like to see you change that," I stuck my tongue out at him, relishing the smile that spread across his face.

"Still, are you okay?"

I sat still for a moment, the easy reply of 'fine' sticking on my tongue. This was Tom, if I can't tell him the truth, who can I tell? Taking a deep breath, I responded softly, "No, I'm not... but I will be."

I used to rely on self-medication,
I guess I still do that from time to time.
But I'm getting better at fighting the future,
"Someday you'll be fine..."
Yes, I'll be just fine.

Tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything is alright.
Oh please tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything is alright.

Ignoring the worried babble Tom started on, I cut him off, "Can we just not talk about this? I know what you're going to say, and I won't listen. It's no big deal, it happens all the time, and I'm not turning in my father. He hasn't done anything wrong. You just don't understand."

"I don't undertand? I don't understand? I think I understand pretty perfectly, and you're just being stupid. You can say what you want, but you know that this is wrong, it's not going to get you anywhere but another injury. What happens when it gets to be too much and you can't take it anymore? What will you do then? You think you're father will stop?" He laughed bitterly, ignoring the tears forming in my eyes, knowing he was right, "He hasn't stopped yet, what makes you think he will?"

"I-I know you're right... Tom, he's my father. I can't just forget about him..."

"I'm not asking that you do, I'm only asking that you keep yourself safe. You're father is not safe, I'm sorry."

"O-okay, I'll do it..."

Give me a reason (I don't believe a word)
To end this discussion (of anything I've heard)
To break with tradition (they tell me that it's not so hard)
To fall and divide (it's not so hard)
So let's not get carried (away with everything)
Away with the process (from here to in-between)
of elimination (the long goodbye)
I don't want to waste your time.

Tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything is alright.
Oh please tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything is alright.

So that's how I ended up in the police station, seated at Tom's side, the oh so familiar flutter in my stomach, but not from turning in my father, no, not from the tears searing down my face in front of some police man I had only just met, but from saying all this next to my best friend. Is there something wrong with that? Most likely, why should I be so nervous with my best friend? Well, I could name a couple reasons... Not that I'm going to.

My vision was blurry and obfuscated, my hands clammy and clenched tightly. I had pulled my knees to my chest, hoping that in tucking into myself I could protect myself somehow. Somehow Tom's arm had managed to twist itself around my back, hugging me protectively.

Tom was openly shuddering when I spoke of certain things, dad throwing glass at mom, dad punching me, kicking me, undressing me, pressing me against the wall under him, satisfying himself and no one else. All the things I had never said, never before spoken, were spilling out fast, as if slowing down would dam them up forever, locking them back inside. It was so odd, you would think that I'd be stumbling, tripping over the words, reluctant to say everything I'd been holding in for so long, but I found that once I started the more I wanted to say it, I found that with every word I was lessening a burden somehow, freeing myself.

Throughout the whole thing the officer remained silent, simply staring at me, never breaking eye-contact, a soft reassurance as he let me have my say. When I finally finished he smiled softly and merely handed me a soft tissue, waiting a moment before he finally spoke, his tone soft and low, "Thank you, for confiding in me. How long has this been going on, if you don't mind my asking?"

I couldn't answer immediately, the answer lost somewhere deep within the bowels of my mind, had it really been so long that I couldn't remember? An answer was already emitting from my mouth though, as if from someone else, but in hearing it I knew right away that it was true, "They started fighting when I was seven, just two weeks after my birthday, almost eleven years ago... It wasn't much then, just disagreements, nothing big. By the time I was nine dad started getting drunk with every argument. When I turned eleven he started throwing things, but only when he was drunk. Two months later he started throwing things when he was sober too. On my thirteenth birthday he took me out to dinner, my favorite restuarant, and got himself drunk. Before dinner was even done he got up and left, without even paying, dragging me to the car... That was the worst night, he drove dangerously, almost hitting atleast three cars on the way, stopping in a long deserted parking lot, the building was literally falling to pieces... He shoved me in the back seat and was all over me, nipping my neck, his hands in my pants...exploring..." I started coughing slightly from crying so hard, Tom's grip around my waist tightening, I took a deep breath. I knew I couldn't stop now, I was so close to it being over, so I continued, my voice shaking, "He had me stay there all night with him, no matter how hard I cried, begged him to stop. No matter how much I twisted, he always seemed to be touching me, in me... After that night, he never seemed satisfied, almost every week he was sidling in my room, needing more and more. It was as if he didn't even care about me anymore." I finished softly, barely audible, sobbing more than I had in years, remembering all those nights, all those horrors.

The officer took my hand softly, coaxing me to look at him, away from my knees, soaked with my tears, "You know you're going to have to go to court."

I nodded my head softly, "I know."

He continued, "It took a lot of bravery to come here tonight, you know that. Most people wouldn't have the courage to do what you did, you should be proud of yourself. And I don't want you going home tonight, stay with someone else, somewhere safe."

"Okay, I will," I agreed softly, settling into my friend, savoring the feel of him holding me, wishing it would last forever.

The officer stood up, walking to the door of his office, stopping short and turning to me once again, "I'll give you a minute to collect yourself, my phone's on the table if you need to contact someone to find a place to stay tonight." He nodded at Tom beside me in acknowledgment and walked out the door.

Tom twisted toward me so he could face me for the first time since I started telling my story, "You can stay with me tonight, my parents won't mind."

I only nodded softly against his chest in agreement, tired out from the events of the day.

"Melody, are you okay?"

I lifted my head to look him square in the eye, a small smile quirking at the corner of my mouth, "You know, I really wish you would stop asking me that."

(Alright)
Tell me that you're alright,
(Hi, everything's great)
Yeah everything is alright.
(Hey, everything's fine)
Oh please tell me that you're alright,
Yeah everything is alright.
(Hi, everything's great)
Everything is alright.
(Hey, everything's fine)

"Mel, are you alright? I mean it, you're still acting kind of different," Tom said from his towering position standing above me. He had just made me a considerably comfortable spot to sleep on his couch, clad with a downy quilt and several velutinous pillows. He had a point, I was acting kind of odd, but I think I finally knew why.

Hey, everything's fine

"Everything's fine," I smiled genuinely at his befuddled expression.

"If you say so," he smiled back at me and turned to leave, treading down the hall towards where I knew his room was.

"Wait," I called out ever so softly, but he heard me, and turned back, occupying once again the space above my make-shift bed for the night.

He sat down beside me, taking care not to sit on me by mistake, "Is something wrong?"

Hey, everything's fine

"Nope," I smiled up at him, "I just wanted to say something." I blurted this out rather quickly, before I could lose my nerve. I was clutching onto the courage I had gotten from him earlier, hanging by a thread, hoping it all went well.

He smiled back at me, his eyebrow piercing shining in the faded rays of sunset that made it through the window, "Really now, and what might that be?"

This was it, he had been there for me through so many years, and he was still here, even after today, that had to mean something. Hopefully it was enough. This was why I was always so nervous around him, maybe it was mutual, or maybe I was about to make the biggest fool of myself. Either way, I took the leap, "I think I love you."

His reaction was anything but what I thought it would be, I half expected him to start shouting at me to leave, send me back to my parents. Instead, his smile brightened ever so slightly, his eyes twinkling lightly as he leaned forward and kissed me softly on the forhead. Then, he simply stood up and walked over to the hallway entrance, a certain aura of calmness about him, before turning back towards me, "I think I love you to," he said simply, causing me to squirm slightly with happiness.

I folded the quilt covering me over neatly, slipping to my feet and walking towards him, just as calmly. His blue eyes were bright in the darkness, staring right at me, waiting for my next move, one I knew I didn't have. Without thinking, I reached up to trace over his piercing lightly before he tilted his head down toward mine, touching our noses together softly. I laced my fingers with his, happier than I had been in eleven years, "Goodnight Tom."

He rested an arm around my waist softly before responding, "Goodnight Melody."

My arm was throbbing from the stitches, my mom was probably sleeping on the couch, my dad was going to wake up to the biggest surprise ever, an officer at his front door, and my past was shattered in a million tiny pieces of misery. Still, just this moment, with the one person I trusted more than anyone, everything was alright. Everything was perfect.

Hey, everything's fine