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• AMALIA •

When we get home, my dad immediately walks out of his office and over to me. Mason steps away, then walks into the living room as my dad crouches down in front of me, his hands on my arms as he assesses me. "Are you okay, baby?" He asks.

I nod.

"Are you sure?" He questions. I nod again, but he doesn't seem to believe me. "It'll be okay, we'll find a new place for you to go."

I pause. Furrow my eyebrows. "What?"

"I know your friends are there, but you can make new ones." He says.

I scowl. "I wanna stay there."

"Amalia, someone there hurt you. You can't stay."

"I'm staying."

"Sweetheart—"

"I wanna stay."

     "Maybe it's best you take break while you're sick anyway—"

     "I'm wanna stay there! Why won't you let me stay?" I shout. His eyebrows raise in surprise, but then his face softens and pity fills his eyes. I look away.

     "Okay." He says after a moment, his voice quiet. I glance back over at him. "Okay, I'm sorry." He adds. "You can go back."

     He wraps his arms around me slowly, as though he's afraid I won't want to hug him, then stands to his full height, lifting me up with him. I lean my head on his shoulder and stay silent as he brings me into the living room, where Grayson and Cole are sitting. They smile at me when I walk in, but instead of smiling back I look away.

     My dad sits down on the couch, and he's about to set me to his side when I wrap my arms around his waist and get myself comfy. He begins to rub my back in slow circles, and I assure myself that as long as he's here with me, I'll be safe. I just need to be around someone.

     And definitely not go back into my bedroom.


I wake up in my bedroom.

     When I peel my eyes open, my breaths begin to quicken. Petal moves around next to me, and I set a hand on her, trying to protect her from the evil this room is tainted with now.

     I grab her, my blanket and my phone before quickly leaving as quietly as I can so I don't wake anyone up. I debate wether to go into my dads room—I must've fell asleep with him in the living room—or even Masons, but decide against it. I don't want to wake them up.

     When I get downstairs, it's empty, thankfully. I make myself comfy and tuck Petal into my side.

     I'll protect her.

• XANDER •

I walk downstairs, dressed to go into my restaurant for a morning shift, but pause when I walk into the living room. Amalia is laying on the couch, curled up into a ball while Petal sleeps at the other end, covered in a small part of Amalia's blanket.

     I furrow my eyebrows as I walk over to her. I crouch down at her side and go to tap her shoulder, but pause when I notice the beads of sweat on her forehead.

     I stand, then put my hands under her arms and lift her up onto my hip. Petal stands up, and I grimace before grabbing her with one hand, since I know Amalia would want her to come with her.

     "Ew, ew, ew." I mumble as I begin to walk upstairs. Amalia's eyes open slowly when I reach the second story of our house, and they fill with puzzlement. She looks around, and when she sees I'm walking toward her room, she shakes her head.

     "No, no, no, no." She whispers. I pause.

     "What's wrong?"

     "Not there. Anywhere but there." Her voice breaks, "please don't take me in there, Xander."

     "Okay." I say immediately. "Okay. You wanna go in my room?" I ask.

     "Y-yes please."

     "Alright." I reply, walking over to my bedroom. I open the door and make my way to the bed, setting her down on it. I sit next to her, then give her her pet rat. I inhale a breath before I begin to speak. "What were you doing sleeping on the couch, Amalia?"

     She bites her bottom lip nervously. "I wanted a change of scenery."

     I tilt my head.

     "It's the truth." She says quietly, though her guilty tone and the fact she won't return my gaze contradicts her words.

     "You can tell me, princess." I assure her. She looks up at me, and there's a pool of water in her eyes that she quickly blinks away.

     "I just did." She replies defensively.

I sigh softly. I guess it's my own fault—when have I ever proven to her that she can trust me? I stand up off my bed. "Okay. You can stay in here for the rest of the day, if you want. I have to go to work, but I'll be back later."

She nods. "Th—thank y-you."

I smile at her before leaving.

• AMALIA •

I wake up again at ten a.m. and bundle Petal up in my arms before making my way out of Xander's room and downstairs. My dad is in the kitchen when I walk into it, alone.

He looks up and smiles at me, eyes soft. "Hi, baby." He says. I wave at him tentatively, and his expression is suddenly full of concern. I sigh and walk over to the counter, pulling myself up on one of the stools and setting Petal onto the table. She walks around on it, then sits down.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asks me. I nod. He inhales a breath, and I notice that he looks a little bit nervous as he says: "I'm gonna take you to the doctors today."

I furrow my eyebrows.

"You still need to go for your weight check in, and I wanna make sure you're okay after everything that happened."

I swallow the lump stuck in my throat. "I—I'm fine."

He's silent for a few moments. "It'd be okay if you told me you're not."

I pause. Look down at my lap. Petal tilts her head and puts her paw up, as though she's reaching for me. I gather her back up in my arms and shake my head as I hop off the stool.

"Amalia—"

I speed walk out of the room, and when I hear his heavy footsteps follow me, I rush into the closest open room—my dads office. As my breaths begin to quicken, I lock the door, unsure of what I'm doing here in the first place.

     The doorknob twists. I bite my lip nervously as my dads voice reaches me from the other side. "Open the door, baby. We can talk about why you're upset."

     I walk over to his chair and sit down, crossing my legs. I'll leave in a minute, I just—I just need to think for a little bit.

     "Amalia? Please unlock the door, sweetheart."

     I lean back and stroke Petals back. She rolls onto her back, so I pet her chubby tummy for a second before looking around.

     "Amalia." He says. My eyes water as I bite my nails anxiously. What am I supposed to do?

     Maybe I can draw; that always helps to ease my nerves. I pull open one of the cabinets in his desk, looking for a notepad, but come up short on the first two. When I pull the third open, my eyes widen, a loud gasp escaping my lips.

     I begin to cry.

     Why does my dad have a gun?

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