Chapter 21: Alone

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Maddy

Everyone is back at the house. I lock my door.

"Hey, freak, open up!" Abe bangs on the door.

"Go away," I say, wiping tears off my face.

"Dad knows you magicked the house back together. We seriously leave you alone for five minutes and you burn the island down?"

"GO AWAY!" I cry, flopping down on my bed. Hot tears run down my cheeks. He left me. He left me. He saw me crying and he left me. He left me alone here.

It was so nice thinking someone actually cared about me. It isn't fair. Why don't I get someone who cares about me? That isn't fair. Other people get that. I just want it. I just wanted him here was that too much to ask? I guess it was for me.

"I didn't tell them anything," my grandfather walks in the room without opening the door.

"I don't care," I say, rolling over, face down.

"You did a good job. It's like they were never here. They were just some stupid monster puppies. You did beautifully," he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't want to have to do beautifully," I say, rolling back over, to talk to him.

"No, but you did. Why are you crying? Abe's not bothering you is he?"

"Yes—no," I sigh.

"He's your brother. You must get along with him."

"He could get along with me," I mutter.

"You're the smarter one."

"I don't want to be," I don't want to be the smarter one. Who has to make concessions. Who has to understand.

"Humor him a little. He's just a young a man."

I nod.

"What were you doing—when the witch attacked you? With that boy?"

"He's nice," I say, quietly. He agreed to come listen to music with me. He was interested. He was polite. He kissed me so gently.

"He was half-monster you realize?"

I nod.

"What were you doing?"

"I was going to just keep him here. it wouldn't matter---Dad and Abe would never know. And I wouldn't be alone," I say, looking at my hands. I broke a couple of nails last night. I need to fix them. But I don't even feel like doing anything.

"You don't need him," he scoffs a little.

"I know. I know that. I don't---need—anyone, grandfather. But I did want him. And sometimes---sometimes I'd like to just have things I want. He made me happy. I liked feeling happy," I say, quietly, "Why is that wrong? Why does that make me less strong, less powerful, less worthy—that I want someone who makes me happy?"

"Because you are better than that," he says, standing up.

"Maybe I don't want to be," I say, softly.

"He left, didn't he?"

I nod.

"It's over then. You'll get over it. because at the end of the day, he left."

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