I hold onto the chair beside me as a support, bracing myself with both arms. Dad puts his hand on my shoulder, not sure how to comfort me. I cover my face with my hand in an attempt to stop myself, but I can't.

Eventually, Dad pulls me into a hug and pats my back. I feel an overwhelming amount of guilt in this moment for all the things I've said to my dad. He's been the only one to support, love, and take care of me from the start. Though I used to question him about it constantly, after seeing Mom, I can't hold anything to him. He's still here.

"Dad," I say with pathetic blubber. "I'm sorry for everything. For always fighting you on everything, for pushing blame on you for things you didn't do. I don't want to be that ungrateful kid anymore. I can't be. I'm sorry for disappointing you."

Dad doesn't let go of me. I think his grip tightens around me. "Jonah, you don't have to be sorry."

"No, I do." I push myself away from him and try to compose myself. "I'll quit baseball if you think I should. I'll make sure that no one ever touches Jordan again."

"Jonah." Dad puts his hands up as if to get me to stop. "Listen to me. You don't need to do any of that. It's not your job to make sacrifices." He lowers his gaze. "It's mine."

I swallow the lump in my throat. Dad takes a step towards me again and puts his hands on either of my shoulders. "I will protect Jordan, and you will play baseball while you still can. I will make sure of that."

"I said some pretty... mean things to Mom the other day."

Dad shakes his head. "Jonah... your Mom loves you. She does. Just like me and you and everyone else, she has made some mistakes. She left and made herself better with the intention of coming to you and Jordan... to me. But things changed, and so did she. She went about things the wrong way."

"I know, I know," I answer exasperatedly. "She put us through a lot, though. She's let me down so many times, Dad."

"It'll take some time, but things will get better. Okay? You and your mom can sort through your differences in your own time."

Dad and I don't have moments like these. We talk about important things, but he's never seemed so... caring.

"Jonah," Dad murmurs. "Why did you leave school today with that girl?"

I look down at my sleeve again and fiddle with it. "It's... I... Her name is Layla, and I really like her. She was the first person I met when we came here, and she's the only reason I haven't tried to leave and go back home."

Dad nods his head. "How is she?"

I try to answer, but all I can do is shrug my shoulders and run my hand through my hair. I'm exhausted and it feels as if it's all just now hitting me. "I don't know."

Dad hugs me briefly once more. "Go get some sleep, Jonah. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

He holds my eyes for a few seconds like he wants to make sure I am agreeing to see him in the morning. "Yeah, okay."

"Jonah," Dad calls before I make it to the stairs. "We want you to play baseball. I know I already said it, but I just want to make it clear. You worked hard for it and I want you to succeed at what you love."

I muster a lazy grin. "Thanks, Dad."

Once I'm in my room, I fall onto my bed without taking my uniform off. I grab one of my pillows and pull it under my head, clutching it as if it is a part of me now. Before I have time to think about anything else, my eyes are glued shut with exhaustion.

*

I have to peel my uniform off of my body when I wake up. Laura wordlessly takes my white shirt off my bed and takes it downstairs where she can hopefully get the blood stain off my sleeve. I take a ridiculous amount of time in the shower, and Jordan still gives me a hard time about it. I'm glad that she does because it's the only normal treatment I get all morning.

When Jordan and I leave for school, I get an idea that she may or may not want to go along with, but I say it aloud anyway.

"I'm going to stop by Layla's hideout before we go to school if you want to go with me."

Jordan walks alongside me on the sidewalk. She glances over at me and sighs.

"No, I think I'll just head to school."

"By yourself?"

She scoffs. "I'm not five. I can handle myself."

"Jordan," I say before she can walk away. "We've already been through this."

I can tell it takes everything in her not to roll her eyes. "I know, Jonah. Look, what happened at the beginning of the year was just... an incident. It doesn't mean it'll happen again. Things have changed. I've changed. I'll see you at school."

When did my 13-year-old sister become such a scholar?

I watch her walk down the sidewalk until I can't see her anymore. Once she's gone, I make way through the buildings that used to make me lost, but now they help guide me through their own mazes like friends.

I finally reach the building and I make my way up into it.

I make a note to remind myself to fix up these stairs as soon as possible so it's easier for Layla to get up and down them without having to practically climb up them.

As I'm walking down the long hallway that eventually leads to Layla's room, I seem to finally take notice of all the other rooms. I pass by them each time I'm up here, but I never linger longer than a second. I walk slowly past them, looking inside to see what I saw the first time I was up here; dusty wooden floors and random broken furniture.

But in the middle, there is a shut door. I remember passing this every time but never wondering why it is the only shut door. Now, I slowly turn the knob and push the door open. The room is pitch black, so I feel around the wall right inside the door for a switch.

Once I find it, I flip it up and a small lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling turns on.

I'm amazed by what's in front of me. Pictures upon pictures, with small pieces of paper all around the wall like paper airplanes flying through the air, passing by each photo. I start on the right and travel around the room, reading Layla's words off the airplanes. They are each a story in her life that goes along with the pictures behind it.

I read about her mom and see the creative depth used in the photos of her mother, many of them expressing her Irish heritage. There are pictures of Layla on some beautiful, green, rocky Irish cliffs. Her smile is so big and radiates happiness while her arms are in the process of flying around her mother.

I read more stories, many about her family in Ireland and a few about her friends here. Eventually, I realize that the timeline makes several loops around the room. Each level is another year or so, so it can be continued for as long as she wants. On the second row, on the wall opposite the door, I find a picture of myself.

It surprises me at first to see my face come out of nowhere. I have to stare at the picture for a while to realize when it was taken. The day I met her, the day I walked into her little hideout and she blinded me with the flash of her camera. That was the day my life changed.

There are a few more pictures, some that I was oblivious to when she took them; one from picking out Moose, another from a time I don't even remember. I don't care though, because I made it on this wall of important people in Layla's life.

Below one of the pictures is an airplane with Layla's small, ever-shifting handwriting.

He showed up when I needed him to challenge me, to bring me out of my own sadness and into the light of Jesus. After accidentally blinding him, I looked back at what is probably my favorite picture ever taken. I could see in his eyes that he was lost, and I don't just mean literally.

I smile at that. Her sense of humor is as easy going as the waves in the ocean.

If there was one thing I would want this amazing person to know, it's that even though he feels alone, he never is. He wants to take on this world by himself, but he doesn't realize the armor that he could have if he'd just let it be. Jesus will be his armor.

I think about all the things she's taught me, all the things she has said to me. They all have added meaning to my life.

I look at my phone and realize that if I'm going to be late to school for sure, but I could get a head start if I leave now. Before I do, I send a quick text to my dad and Jordan.

To: Dad, Loser
7:55 AM
I need you all to help me with something this evening. Will explain later.

After a second thought, I add Laura's name to the chat. I don't know why, but it feels right. And we may need all hands on deck to fix these stairs. It dawns on me that this is supposed to be a secret place, but I'll find a way around that.

Before I leave the room, the words painted in sloppy yet artistic handwriting above the door catch my eye:

"A picture isn't just worth a thousand words; it represents one special moment captured among thousands of others." – L.S.

________________________

I'm so so sorry for how late this is! Good news though: I've gotten most this book finished! Just have to post now! Also, I will be announcing who the next installment to the series is about and what the name of it will be (hopefully)! So stick around and make your guesses!!

The song is Rescue by Lauren Daigle because it is just so sweet and slow and perfect for this chapter! Go listen!!

Hope you enjoyed!