"Who is this woman? What is she doing here? How does she know me? Why does she know my life story?" She tapped her fingers against the countertop, completely ignoring the woman at the counter. "Her name is Cosette. She... was in the hospital with me. She got released long before I did. Months ago. While I was stuck in... while I was..." He shivered faintly, fingers gripping at his fork.

He started shoveling food in his mouth, groaning quietly when the flavors exploded in his mouth. Evelyn wouldn't understand it. She didn't want to understand it. Practically living off MRE's for a year, and then suddenly a good homemade meal? It was overwhelming for her father.

She decided to expand on her curiosities, and suspicions. "So you're psycho too, huh?" Evelyn narrowed her eyes up at the woman. Cosette's smile faltered, and fell. She pinched it back up, just enough to appear polite. "No, no no no. During that uh, time, when your father was urm... stuck," Her rolling shoulders displayed her own discomfort of the subject.

"I had a psychological evaluation done with me, because of this guard that did er, certain unenjoyable things, and he was fired and suspended for his crimes against the patients." Her pursed lips and uncomfortable posture told Evelyn all she needed to know. She felt bad now. She was reminded of Trevor, and found herself picturing him as the face of this guard was who this strange woman spoke of.

"Anyway, they deemed me sane, put it in the paper, and I went to the little apartment they gave me with the little burger-flipping job they gave me. Then I waited six months, and your father got out. I was his first phone call, and now I'm five-hundred miles from that apartment in the most beautiful house I've ever seen, with an insightful man, good food, and a beautiful young woman who just needs someone to talk to." This Cosette woman was kind of creepy. Over-sharing, perhaps. Observant, sure. She really did know everything about Evelyn if she and her father were so close that six months after they last saw each other, she took a five-hundred mile trip to see him.

"Oh my gosh, this isn't some stupid trip, is it?" The girl groaned, hands over her face. "Are you trying to replace mom, or something?" She hissed at her father. The man's shoulders fell. He sighed through his nose, face contorting as he tried to figure out how he would actually answer the question. How could he answer it? That wasn't really the purpose behind Cosette's moving here.

"Princess, your mother will never leave my heart. This woman here isn't a sticker I can slap over her, either. She's a whole 'nother part of my life. A new link to my chain. A keeper of my peace. One of two reasons I have not to do anything so... rash... ever again." He lifted her chin, but she ripped her head away. "The other being what? Fear? Schimdt? Biding your time?"

"You, Evelyn. It's you." His answer seemed to force her to calm down. It took the rest of breakfast just to settle into the idea that another female was in the house, but eventually, she calmed down. This whole thing had been an enormous journey of pain, growth, love and loss, and healing. This was just another step toward her reason for being what she was. For being who she was. She really did want her dad to be there for her throughout her life. But seeing his face made her want to hurl just as powerfully as it invigorated her.

She sat and listened as this strange woman introduced herself more formally. She explained how she'd stabbed her brother for a dog, which is what landed her in the hospital in the first place. Eleven years was a very, very long time. Evelyn could only assume that this was the reason behind her social-ineptitude combined with oversharing and overconfidence.

It was nicer once they started getting into other conversations, though. In fact, there were even things they could relate to each other with. "When I was eight, my mother was in a sporting accident. She died just as suddenly as yours, it would seem." The woman sipped whatever warm drink was in her glass, steam rising up when she breathed into it.

"I can't say my father was taken away, but it was all different when he left us, when I was a little younger than you are now. He didn't want us to be put into foster care, so he waited for my brother to be old enough to take care of us both, and never looked back."

Sure the stories weren't exactly the same, but in essence, they both had a mom go splat and a dad say 'forget you!' It actually helped the girl not to be so... bitter, jealous, angry, betrayed, indignant, toward this woman her father had brought home. Even so, she was still a stranger in her home and she wasn't very receptive at this time.

(Thanks for story-time, Cosette! It . . . helps-?)