Breaking

Chapter 14.

The next day...
"Arabella?" I gently knock on my bedroom door. She's been hiding in there a lot lately. I don't mind, I mean she's fifteen and she hasn't had her own room in the last month. I'm just surprised this hadn't come up sooner. She didn't stay in my room much when she first started staying here, maybe she's finally, truly comfortable here.

"Come in!" She shouts, and I push open the door all the way-she never closes it-and step inside. She's sitting at the end of the bed, drawing on her iPad. "Thank you." She always thanks me for knocking. "Do you need me to get out?"

"No, I was going to ask if you were busy?"

She puts her iPad to the side. "No."

"I saw your drawing last night," I say honestly. "And I figured we should go shopping."

Her face lights up. "Wait, really? For the entire apartment or just the living room."

"There's nothing wrong with my kitchen."

She laughs. "It looks more like a working kitchen than a home kitchen."

"What's your point?" She laughs harder at that, and I roll my eyes, a small smile on my lips. "Do you want to come or not?"

"Sure!" She jumps to her feet.

"We can start on the living room for now but...there's only one thing. The paintings you had in your drawing, I want you to do them. I'll buy all the canvases you need, all sizes, as much paint as you want-it doesn't matter. I want your artwork on the walls."

She's shaking with excitement, it's the first time she's ever been happy that I offered to buy her things, and she starts squealing and sort of jumping. "OKAY!"

We spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon picking out curtains and rugs and even bookshelves. We spent ten minutes deciding on an actual bookcase or shelves on the wall. She picked a bookcase and I picked out which one. Once we felt like we had enough, we went to Michael's and got everything she needed for the paintings. We went home and immediately decorated the living room.

"I'm starving," Arabella whines. "Pizza?"

"Do you want me to make-"

"Order it. I'm sorry, I love your homemade pizza, but it's going to take too long. My stomach is killing me now."

"Delivery or-"

"Pick up."

"Okay," I chuckle. I grab my phone off my new bookcase and see I have a few text messages and ten missed calls. They're all from Christina, demanding a photo of Arabella. It's the first of the month. My first thought is to ignore her, but if Arabella's dad is giving Christina money for a simple photo, she won't hesitate to come here, and I can't hurt Arabella like that. "Arabella?" My voice croaks.

She stops pealing the apple in her hands and looks up at me. "I won't ruin my appetite."

I walk over to her and take a picture of her. She's not once confused about it. She automatically understands and she frowns. "I'm sorry," I tell her.

"I'm not," she whispers. "It's just a photo."

Then a question pops in my head, a question I'm not sure how to feel about. "Um, do you...do you know when...he's getting out?"

She shakes her head.

"I'm sorry if I-"

"You didn't," she smiles reassuringly.

"Do you miss her?" I ask without thinking. Her smile falters. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I think so, you know, the way a daughter misses her mother, but...no, not really." She pauses. Then it's like flipping a switch, like we never talked about her parents. "Can you order my pizza now?" She whines slightly.