Crying in the rain with Brad

So there I was again. I was walking down the road all alone again. Crying. I had just reached the crossroad between East-village Passage and Water Avenue when Brad caught up with me. “Hey”, he said. “Are you alright?”
I explained to him that I was not. “The worlds a pretty fucked up place”, I said. “And I always seem to be in the middle.”
He asked me if it was my dad again, and I said yes. As we walked up the East-village Passage I started tearing up real good, even sobbing loudly and Brad put his arm ‘round me. I turned my face to him and said that he really must have a strange image of me. He really must see me as this big sobber.
See, the first time I met him I was crying because an, shall we say, “old friend” came to see me very much against my will. This old friend was the abusing ex-boyfriend of a friend of mine, so you can see that I was not too happy to see him again. Brad and I sat down on a sofa and I told him the story and cried like a baby.
And today was only the third time ever that I saw him so… Crying two out of three times must paint a pretty nice picture. I told him I don’t normally cry this often, especially not in public and he smiled to me and said he believed me. Don’t know if that was true though, but I can always hope. We took a walk up in the woods and talked some more about my family and my current situation with dad. It’s really hard to realise (and I told Brad this too) that even though I’ve grown up in this ideal little family; both parents present, two kids, nice house, good school, perfect grades, still I’ll be one of those people who say “I haven’t talked to my parents in a decade”. I really don’t want it to be like that, but right now it looks as if that’s how it’s going to be.
Brad and I sat down on some swings and talked some more when we saw that there was going to be rain. “Well, you’re not a witch are you?” I asked him and he gave me this puzzled look. “It’s not like you’re gonna melt ore anything, right?” He said that he didn’t believe so and I said that we should be alright then. Still we left the swings and started going back to the hotel that we both stay at. Pretty soon it started to drizzle. Brad kept his arm around me, which felt nice and we walked together in silence.
Funny thing is, I told Brad that the worst thing about this whole thing is that somehow I always end up feeling bad and I’m always painted out as the bad guy. A while ago I talked to my mother again on the phone and she told me that she thought me and dad fighting was ridiculous and that it was worst on her. I really wonder how it can be worst on her when I’m the one sitting alone crying in a lonely room, listening to Bryan Adams.