Chapter Twenty-Four

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Chapter Twenty-Four

Despite everything that just happened, it feels like the moment we touch down in my bedroom in the Underworld, only then does reality set in. And when I say it set in, I mean it really set in; like a hard kick to the guts that leaves me reeling and gasping for breath. So, in childish stubbornness, I decide to bury my head in the sand, and keep my arms wrapped tightly around my father for as long as I can, a small part of me hoping that that one action will somehow help me to figure out what the hell just happened.

Also, I may have missed him more than I'd care to admit.

After a few seconds of me refusing to relinquish my hold, I feel my father chuckle, tilting his head to look down at me.

"Ellie?"

"Yes?"

"Usually people would let go after a hug has lasted for this duration of time."

"You're just saying that because you don't like hugs." I mutter into his chest.

"I have never said that."

I pull back to look up at him, smiling a little. "You have never had to."

Before he has the chance to respond, I hear a low gasp from behind me. "Ellie?"

My head perks up at the familiar voice, and I turn around to see my mother standing in my bedroom doorway behind me. A big smile starts to spread across her lips.

"Hey there kid—hang on." She pauses, her eyes narrowing. I eye her warily, a little nervous by the look on her face. "When the hell did you dye your hair?"

I blink. "What?"

"Your hair is blue." She walks forward, pointing at my hair. "Unless you've spontaneously developed the ability to grow blue hair, you've dyed it since I last saw you."

"I..." I stare at her, so bewildered that I'm lost for words. "It was dyed last time you saw me, Mum."

"It was?" She shakes her head, narrowing her eyes again. "Well then why didn't you mention it to me? Don't you think that's kind of an important development to inform me of?"

"I assumed you saw it." I reply slowly, and she raises an eyebrow at me. "You do have eyes, Mum."

"Well, I don't like it." She declares. "What the hell made you think you could dye your hair in the first place? Just because we let you up on the surface doesn't mean that—"

I hear a soft noise from behind me, and when I glance over my shoulder, my father's barely stifling a laugh at the tirade my mother's going off on. When he realises I'm looking at him he winks, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips. My mother's voice increases in pitch, drawing my attention back to her.

"—should probably blame Spencer, he's been a terrible influence ever since I met him; he even convinced me to get a tattoo when I was eighteen, so I doubt him being able to convince you to dye your hair was even that difficult for him—"

"Mum." I interrupt her with a laugh, putting my hands on her shoulders and looking her deep in the eyes. "Would you stop ranting, please?"

"No!" She exclaims. "I'm still not finished with telling you how not okay I am with you dying your hair!"

"But Dad's okay with it."

"What? No he is most certainly not." She looks over my shoulder and gives him a look. "Tell her how you're not okay with it."

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