[Bad As Ever || Book 2]

3°

» "tell me how can I right my wrongs? That's something that I should know. All the things that we been through, girl I never meant to put you through it twice..."

Miami, FL;

It seemed to be so bright for it to be the middle of the night and so hot for it to be the middle of January and so loud in the middle of their dreams.

The sound of a door breaking knocked both Bryson and Paris out of their slumber and what they saw terrified them more.

The entire staircase along with the wall next to it was on fire. It was at quite a distance from them, but they could feel heat from it.

A fireman had broken the door down and when he saw them, yelled for them to follow him out of the house.

Once it was all over, everything was such a blur. All they could remember was screaming for someone to get their baby, anybody to get their baby.

And they also remember, of course, when the house collapsed.

The Red Cross, along with several police officers and detectives swarmed the night, asking questions to two people he couldn't think past the fact that Brylee never came out, nor the fireman who went in to get her.

"Mr. Tiller, Mrs. Tiller, I'm Amy Hunter from the Red Cross..." A lady of her mid 30's said sticking out her hand.

The two young adults were silent, not able to take their eyes away from the rubble of their home.

"I know this is a very hard time for you and we at the Red Cross will do anything and everything we can to help the two you." She continued hesitantly.

Only Paris looked in her direction, voice raspy, "T-thank you..."

Eventually the two were torn from the scene, a hotel room and clothing being provided by the Red Cross.

Of course they didn't sleep for the rest of night, replaying everything back in their minds constantly.

"It's all my fault..." Bryson mumbled quietly to himself, sitting on the floor of their hotel room.

"No, Bryson," Paris scrambled to the floor in front of him, face painted with tears, "Please don't say that.."

He held his hands out in front of him and looked down at them, "My hands still smell like kerosene."

"It's going to be ok, Ok?" She moved his hands and placed her forehead on his.

"I killed my daughter... and somebody else." He said staring off into space. It didn't seem that he was all the way there anymore.

"Bryson, shut up." She cried as her tears fell more aggressively and more uncontrolled.

He wrapped his arms around her and placed his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat, "I could've killed you, Paris."

"You didn't baby, you didn't kill anybody. It was an accident, ok? Everything's going to be alright."

It was silent, all night long. Neither of them slept. Neither of them even got into bed or turned the television on or even spoke.

All night long, it was silent.

>>>>>
Hope I didn't make you cry too much.