*Rylyn*

I tried to hold on and not let go, but my fingers slipped. I won't forget. I can't; it was too real. After He told me not to forget, He said to stand with Him and I would be safe. I wholeheartedly believe it. It feels like I'm falling down back into my own body. I tried to call for Him but I already lost sight of Him and couldn't feel His embrace anymore (I'm being literal, not just talking in a metaphor).

My eyes snap open. Startled, I take in deep breaths.

At first, I'm confused. Because I'm alone. Looking around, I expect someone just to appear and talk to me about everything. I realize it's a hospital, that knowledge coming with the fact nobody really does that unless it's a doctor or nurse. They just care about your health. I try sit up, but my body feels stiff and uncertain. I wiggle my fingers and see the cast on my left arm. Still confused, I feel around my stomach and feel my ribs' bandage. My side aches from what feels like a patch of stitches. What in the world did I do to myself?

"Hello?" I croak, my voice feeling like it's a machine that's been out of order, mouth dry. I blink a few times fast, then sit up straight, not wanting to put strain on my ribs.

Then it all rushes back. That's why the terror felt familiar. Dad screaming for me to run and I almost didn't. That gun shot I heard... Where's Dad? Frantic, I throw the covers off myself and go toward the door. The rest of the memory comes back to me against my will. I did run and fell off the roof. Swinging the door open I remember still, and peek out to look for familiar faces. I ran as fast as I possibly could to stay alive, almost dying in the process-what if I did, and I was just in Heaven? There would be other people there if it were, right?- then I called David and him and Mirissa came to get me.

The memory stops there.

I look around, studying every face for a second before moving on to someone else. A nurse spots me and starts to come toward me. Her black ponytail swishes down her back neatly, her eyes curious, and light skin perfectly clean. I back away instantly, trying to hide myself behind the door while watching her.

"Are you alright?" she asks when she reaches me. I shake my head, not wanting to talk to her. I need someone I know. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she attempts again, concerned. Maybe I was wrong about hospital workers.

"Um," I bite my lip. "Can you get me my dad?" I whisper.

"Sorry, I can't," she says, about to tell me more, but I don't let her.

"Someone I know?" I say just as soft as before. This time she nods and hurries away. How did she even know who my dad was anyhow? She must've read my hospital bracelet. Or she could be a nurse who attended to me earlier when I wasn't here mentally.

I return it the other side of the door and lean against it. Dad must be hurt pretty bad if I can't get to him. That's okay, he needs to rest. So do I, but I feel anticipation rising up against what I'm suspecting. No, no, no he isn't gone, he wouldn't leave me. I feel my whole body trembling. I force myself to swallow my tears and sit on the edge of the bed. The nurse doesn't return.

For the first time, I notice the cardboard box sitting on a chair beside my bed. I pick it up, nearly dropping it because it's contents are so heavy. I realize that this is meant to be mine. On the very top is a picture frame with the glass shattered. This picture was taking when I was four years old. My mom and Dad and me. I have a sudden longing for her. I smile because I know she loved me. My phone is in the box too. Nothing new presents itself to me when I turn it on. My sketch book is in here, but, for once in my life, I don't feel like drawing.

I wait for whoever is coming anxiously. I curl up in the middle of the bed, bringing my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I try to comfort myself by rubbing one of my hands with the other's thumb, like Dad does, but I still can't shake the feeling of truth off my shoulders. I stare hard at the door, as if I could see through it.

It doesn't open as fast as I thought it would, but slowly, cautiously. A familiar face pokes his head inside. David comes in, followed by Mirissa, both of them smiling. Something is tense about it, though. Too tense... They're more dressed up than usual; it must be Sunday.

"Hi," she says, closing the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

I almost don't answer her in realizing now that I don't want to talk to anyone but Dad. I release my body from it's position, sit up, and shrug my shoulders.

"I've been better," I say quietly. She nods and approaches me, walking to the side of the bed opposite the door, and sits down. She puts a hand on top of my knee. I look to David standing still at the door. He gazes at me thinking.

"Hi," I say to him.

"Hi," he says, sounding distant, not meeting my eyes. I turn my eyes away from both of them. I wish I could see out the window, but the blinds are down. The sunlight leaks into the room patiently.

"What happened when you ran?" David asks me. I face him surprised at the question and to see that he has sat down without making a sound.

"I fell off the roof." He looks at me, clearly not expecting that for an answer. "I had to escape through the window, Dad told me to get out. You know, I should really stop running away from my problems," I attempt to lighten the mood. Both of them smile but it doesn't light up their faces. Why are they so sad? Everyone's okay, we're all still alive... Right? "It's you," says a voice in my head, "he's dead." I push that voice away, while it's still insisting that what it says was true.

"Did they tell you... Anything interesting?" he asks.

"No, but a nurse did say that I couldn't see Dad. He must be hurt real bad. Do you know what room he's in? I want to see him."

"Rylyn, your dad...," he starts. I wait for him to finish his sentence, but instead he gets up and sits on the other side of me. His whole body is tense. "Listen, he's gone away..."

"What do you mean, has he been transported to another hospital? Is he that bad?" I ask, confused.

"No, it's not that, he is with your mom in Heaven." He meets my eyes, pained by saying these words to me.

"What?" I breathe, "No. You're lying he isn't dead." I wince at the words. The expression held in his eyes moves to his face. I swing my legs off the bed and make a dash for the door. He wouldn't leave me, he wouldn't. I know he isn't gone. He'll know my voice when he hears it. I'll run down the halls and scream for him if I have to. I go around the edge of the bed instead of just going directly toward the door, like I intended. Is it childish for me to run?

"I'm sorry, I'm not lying, Rylyn."

He looks up from his lap to see me putting hand on the door. He pulls me back from it by the arm (careful not to hurt me but quick about it also) and puts himself between me and the door with his arms spread apart, as if to block something out to protect me. I try to see around them, push against them, but he holds my forearms while I try to fight, though I shouldn't.

"Daddy!" I yell, feeling tears at my eyes, trying to twist away from David's grasp. "Dad!" I feel my whole body shake under the pressure of the truth. My head pounds. "No, Dad! Dad where are you?! No..."

"Rylyn, Rylyn!" David tries to make me stop so he can reason with me. I struggle against him.

"Dad!" I feel my strength crumbling to the ground. "Keep it together..." a voice says. I pull back violently, telling the voice no. David releases me, then I try again to get to him. He grabs my forearms once more. "No! Daddy!" I scream one last time. I look from the door to David frantically, trying to figure out what to do. I breathe hard from tears. I feel dizzy and uneasy.

"Rylyn," he steadies my shaking body by holding on to my shoulders, keeping me upright. I look directly into his eyes and see them fogged by tears too. "I'm sorry."

He lets me wrap my arms around him and he holds onto me the same. I keep him tight in my grasp and he keeps me from falling on my knees. Nurses have opened the door to see what was wrong, and Mirissa explains, holding back her own emotions that play on her face. They try to come over to me, to do who knows what, but I hide in David's arms that are now keeping me safe instead of Dad's. They try to touch me and ask questions but I don't let them and don't answer. Finally they leave.

I break away from him and sit with my head in my hands, breathing deep, my vision blurred with tears. I can't find the words to say anything to reassure them that I'll be fine. What if I'm not? What am I going to do without him here? What if they don't let me stay and ship me off somewhere? How can they if I don't have any family left. I've heard of foster care, but how does it work?

For a moment everything is quiet except for my uneven breathing between bursts of sobs. I scoot back more into the middle of my bed, pull my knees up to my chest again, and lean my forehead against them. I want to be alone, but I can't tell them to go. At the same time, I want them here. They leave me to myself for a few minutes waiting for me to look up at them. When I do, I turn my head to the side, resting my temple against my knee. I sigh heavily, a steady stream of tears slipping down my face.

It's all my fault and I know it. He died for my safety. I'm a weak coward to run.

"I love him, and he loves me," I start, "then why did he have to go? We had each other, and that was it."

"You don't have any relatives?" David asks.

"No," I close my eyes. "Not anymore."

"But your not alone, you've got us," Mirissa says, trying to make me feel better. I give her a tight smile. "But it's not the same," I think to myself. After a few moments, the tears start to come heavily again and I let myself give into them. This time, she wraps her arms around me like she did Wednesday when Kelsey and I hurt each other. Does she, Kelsey, know? Who does know about me? Before I know it, David has both of us against him also. Are they my parents now? Is that why they're here? I don't know. Maybe...

* * * * *

Later, the doctor comes in to check me out. He gives us instructions on how to take care of my casts and bandages, telling me all of the things I've broken and what had to be done to fix them. I had surgery, apparently, that Mirissa and David didn't really know about, for my lung. Man, I'm costing whoever's taking care of me a lot of money.

The drive to their house is full of silence. It's too loud, I have to cover my ears with my own thoughts to block it out. How is he dead? This isn't happening, it's just a crazy nightmare. That nightmare called life. "Who are you?" I wanted to ask the nurses, "And what have you done with my dad?" Despite his presence being absent, he seems to be repeating in my mind. "Just call me if anything goes wrong," and "Happens to the best of us," or the phrase that kills me the most that's so common and required between us, "I love you."

But it's not just his voice, I can see every detail of his face from the freckles to the tiny indent in his cheek where he got hit with something when he was younger. I can picture him laughing and talking and the way he walked from place to place. Not only until I feel that even the tiny scar that is barely visible behind his ear becomes necessary do I realize I'm going crazy. I can't seem to stop my mind from reminding me of these, though.

"Are you doing okay back there?" Mirissa asks, turning to face me from the passenger's seat. "I have pain killers at the house if you need them." I just nod and give her a small smile. She blinks a few times, then nods slightly in approval.

David doesn't say anything to me after he stopped me at the hospital. The odd disconnection makes me feel uncomfortable, but I don't mention it. Every once in a while, he'll glance back at me in the mirror, almost open his mouth to say something but immediately closes it. I notice every time, but I think I'm checking. If I stopped making eye contact, would he tell me something other than sorry?

When we come to their house I feel a lump rise in my throat. What did I expect, to go to my house? It probably would've been worse if that happened. Stepping out of the car, I nearly lose it. I force myself to take a deep breath to prevent myself for panicking. My feelings must show in the way I'm acting, because Mirissa and David exchange nervous glances. I meet there gazes for just seconds before turning away. It all seems bigger now that Dad isn't here holding my hand for everything. I feel even smaller than I did when I look up at the sky at night.

I hold the box in my arms carefully, not wanting to drop it, as I follow them up the steps. He unlocks the door and we step inside. A sweep of warm air rushes over me. I close the door and we just stand there looking at each other.

"Are you my parents now?" I ask, almost afraid. I don't want to be someone else's kid right now. I just want my own dad back.

"No," David says, "just your guardians until they research if you have any family left."

"Oh," I say. "How long was I out? It is Sunday, right?"

"Just a day. And, yes, it is Sunday," Mirissa says.

"So you missed church, then?"

"Not all of it, just the auditorium part," David takes off his coat and hangs it up in the closet. I do the same.

"Sorry," I say. I feel the need to at least apologize to someone, even if it isn't Dad. The words still make me feel better. Mirissa looks at me, surprised. "I didn't know you were missing, because of me."

"No, no, it's fine, honest," she says, putting a hand on my shoulder. I smile at her. She then shows me where the rest of my stuff is at, upstairs in the first bedroom. It's a nice size, not too big or too small, with a closet, a window seat, and a twin sized bed. The bathroom is just across the hall. She leaves me to go change into more comfortable clothes.

I don't unpack, like she told me I could, because I don't live here. Basically I'm visiting. I know they aren't going to find anyone related to me, Dad told me we had no more relatives. Therefore I'm not leaving... Or am I? Will they take me away somewhere else or will David and Mirissa hold onto me? All of the questions are slowing me down, it seems. I set the box down and close the door. My lips tremble and eyes become watery. I stumble into the bed, slide down next to it and cry. I turn my body so I can rest my arms on the mattress and my head in them. I try not to be too loud so they won't hear me, I don't really want sympathy right now. Actually, I don't know what I want anymore.

Sobs wrack my body and all of my remaining strength goes into crying for him. I run my hands through my hair in agony. He was torn out of my picture before I got the chance to finish it. The hole in my heart grows bigger.

Then, Jesus flies into my mind. "I'm always here," He said, "don't forget that." He also told me that difficult things were coming. Yes, but why did it have to be Dad? Why? The carpet was pulled right out from beneath me. He was the only thing I had left that kept my life of a three legged stool from falling over. He knew me better than anyone.

"Did he?" a voice says inside of me, "Or does Jesus know you better?" I lift my head at that point. If Jesus knows me better and He's letting this happen, it's for the best, right?

"But why?" I whisper. "How come it was Dad?" I start to weep again. The tears come more harshly now and they sting as they rain out of the corners of my eyes. I let the sounds escape from my mouth in a rush, trying not to wail so loudly. Finally, I swallow everything but the tears that won't stop. "Dad? I love you." The words tremble off my lips and caught by my tight throat but they were said.

I feel eyes on me as the door opens slowly. I don't turn around, I just bury my face deep into my arms. I know that David is here watching me silently. Who else would have the patient silence with me to get to where I am? Dad would. I choke on a new set of tears. Dad could've ran instead of me, but he didn't. He should've sneaked out then come back for me. I should have gone to help him, he wouldn't be dead then. Regrets take a seat in my head.

David doesn't acknowledge me in any way, he just watches. I'm not that interesting but he still stays. I let myself cry until I have not tears left for the hour, when my eyes are a puffy red, not caring if anyone is watching. Then I realize that he left. Maybe hours, minutes, even weeks ago. Maybe he wasn't even there. I lost track of what time it was.

I feel tired from crying. I pull a few of my blankets out of a box and put one over top of the mattress. I get a pillow also. The bed is up against the right wall, which makes me feel more secure. I curl up on the bed and bury myself in blankets, the scent of my own home comforting me. I fall asleep easily under tired eyelids with tears still coating my face.

* * * * *

David lays a gentle hand on my shoulder to wake me and mumbles some words to open my eyes. I think it's my mind that's mumbling them, he's probably speaking perfectly clear. My eyes flutter open and I squint since the light is on. He looks at me with a caring expression that makes me think of Dad again. The sobs don't come, which I'm grateful for, but the heaviness is still there, on my heart, in my stomach, on my mind.

"Hey sleepy head," he says, "small group's in a few hours if you wanted to come. It's okay if you want to stay here." His offer is very easy for me to decline but I immediately rethink it. Getting out would probably do me some good, if I don't cry to much. Maybe it would get my mind off of... Him. Besides, I should apologize to Kelsey: she's still my friend, right?

"Sure, I'll go." I smile at his surprised, yet pleased face and sit up, struggling a little. He tries to help but I use the wall for support instead.

"Oh and by the way, Megan says hi and Kelsey wanted me to tell you that she still cares about you," he says. I smile.

After a silence, I ask, "What time is it?"

"Three-thirty. It starts at five-thirty," he explains. He pauses. "I'm sorry that it's happened this way. I'm always here for you, if you ever need to talk." My eyes wander from him to the sun heating the air outside up to a reasonable late fall temperature. That's what He said (Jesus, not Dad). Should I tell him about what I saw? He is a person who went to collage for this type of job. I decide to tell him later, maybe at dinner or something, but I'll definitely tell him.

His eyes seem to grow distant. We sit in quiet careful breathing, not wanting to disturb each other's thoughts. Mine of how wonderful it will be to be with Him forever. I've been thinking about getting baptized soon and Dad and I discussed it a few times. I'm pretty sure that Dad is baptized. Good, he's in Heaven right now with Mom and everyone else. And... Dad won't be coming back to me. My eyes tear up again.

"David?"

"Yes?" He snaps back into reality to face me, kind and gentle.

"How many times is too many to be upset over something?" I ask, my throat tight.

"Oh." He examines my body language closer to realize why I'm asking. My hands sweat, I twist my figures together, a nervous habit of mine. "It's okay, you can cry."

"But I've done too much of that, haven't I?" He sighs and pulls me close to him. His arms feel strong and secure around my broken body.

"No." He takes in a breath. "It's okay to cry." I find myself drowning in tears again, gasping for breath, and my whole body seems to go hot. "I've got you, you're fine," he soothes. "We won't let them take you away."

"Thank you," I sniff after a good twenty minutes. He gives me a small smile.

"No problem," he says quietly.

Afterwards, he guides me downstairs to eat something. I didn't realize I was hungry until I saw sandwiches laying on a plate on the table. I feel nearly starved. I sit at the dining room table gazing out the window while Mirissa and David discuss something privately in their room. The table is a dark wood, the walls are painted a deep red with a big glass window interrupting between kitchen cabinets and another wall. The air looks still and calm as it finally decides what an early winter should feel like.

I try to keep my mind off Dad and think about what I'm going to say to my friends instead, which isn't completely off Dad but I can't just pull away all of a sudden. The memories of him still brings tears to my eyes. I've learned quickly not to push them down, it will only make things worse. But would I be expected to cry in front of the group? Would they care at all? Whatever happens, happens. There's going to be a funeral too, right? What should my reactions be to that? I sigh and take a last bite of my food before loading it in the dishwasher.

I sit down again, feeling empty and hollow. Now what? We never really talked about what would happen if one of us goes. I guess I'll just have to find out for myself. I remember asking him how Mom died and he explained to me how and where she went.

"How come she left? Is she gonna come back?" I had asked. Dad sighed and looked at my little figure: small shoulders and big eyes.

He told me this, "I don't know why she left. It's His choice, not ours, how long we get. And, no, she isn't, but she loved you." Once apon a time, the end. Close the book, done with the story, basically. I didn't even try to ask about very much of anything after that.

How did he get over her anyway? It's likely that he never really did, I could just tell by the look in his eyes when he talked about her. Is that what I should do? Shut myself and the people I love away from public? Of course, he was a news guy...

I decide that the answer is no. I didn't like living like that then so I shouldn't like it now. I still don't but there are times when being alone is okay, I think.

David comes out tells me that we should probably go. Forty minutes early than when I normally leave but I'm not in the same house anymore. I grab a few Sharpies before heading out so maybe they could sign my cast on my arm. Mirissa gives me a quick smile and signs it real fast, and David does too. In the car, I carefully put Dad's name near my elbow so it isn't too visible. It's hard to keep myself from just doodling on it in general.

"I have some stuff that I need to finish real quick, so you can hang out with me or wait for the others," David explains.

"Okay," I respond, "but I have a question."

"Go."

"What do I do when they get there?" I ask, almost letting the heaviness sink into my tone. "Do I act normal or do I just do nothing and wait for them to talk first?"

He thinks for a moment, not taking his eyes off he road, before answering.

"I don't really know," he says finally. "Maybe you and Kelsey should make up first. That was a pretty hard fight."

"Yeah...," I let my voice trail off. "Do they know?"

"About you? Yes, I told them this morning. Don't worry, it'll be fine." He lets an encouraging smile come my way, before turning back to the road. After a moment, I speak up.

"I'm nervous and I don't know why," I say with confusion. I look out the window and then back at his face, half expecting him to laugh still me and the other half to agree. But he does neither.

"I think that you're nervous maybe because you haven't seen them since everything has happened. They probably won't force you to talk about it, if you don't want to," he reassures me.

I look out the window again and watch a gas station fly by as we head down a road off the highway. I remember very specifically something from when I was younger. We were coming back from a trip at the beach, I remember Dad being sun burnt and Mom with her still pale self. We passed a gas station, I asked Dad to tell me a story.

"Tell me one, Daddy!" I had giggled happily, enjoying our ride. It was a cloudy day and nearly dark. The car ride had been long and uneventful and me, being three, was restless.

"Okay... Well, once there was a princess who lived at a gas station," he started.

"That's not how it goes! Tell me a real one about... Puppies," I said. They were my favorite animal when I was little.

"Okay, then. There once was a little puppy who had pink spots with purple ears..." And on the story went. The puppy got lost and a little girl found it and got to keep it for a little while. Then she had to learn to take care of it until the mother dog came back.

"Rylyn, baby, you should probably try to go to sleep, it's a long ways home, still," Mom said, reasoning with me gently. I agreed with a tired nod of my head. Then I asked her to sing to me. She did, with her voice flowing softly and lovingly, keeping her eyes on me before I closed my own. I know that her eyes were a brown that stood out with little pieces of gold littering them. I remembered that she loved to laugh and those moments were beautiful until they ended.

I snap out of it when I realize my palms are sweaty and my face is hot, again. I suck in my breathe shakily. David is silent, waiting to see if I'll talk.

"My mom," I start, "was so generous and I remember that she had a kind spirit. She was always happy." I don't know why I'm even bothering trying to tell him this, it's not like he would understand. He probably had both parents growing up. "I just wonder what it would be like if she was here. Because... Because... I need her." Tears burn my eyes. I force them down. "I need her," I repeat to myself.

"Are you afraid?" he asks.

I swallow hard and say, "Yes."

"Of what?"

"Being alone," I whisper the words, admitting my core feeling.

"Don't be afraid," he says, "we'll help you through it."

"What if they take me away?" I say, my voice cracking.

"They won't, we'll make sure of it."

I feel something like relief and fear flood my weary heart. Will I still be counted as my Dad's daughter if they hold onto me? Would I be getting a new family and he wouldn't be apart of it? The idea sounds so wrong to me, for years it's just been me and him. I can't just throw him out of my life and never intended to even try. I still need my dad, or at least, the memories of him.

We arrive at the church and head into the building. Despite the heat surrounding us, I feel cold, like someone had struck me with ice. But I take off my coat anyway. We go through the Multi-Purpose room, down the hall, and take a left before another set of doors at the end of the hall. I've walked around this place so many times, I could come through here blind folded.

Small groups take place in individual rooms, consuming thier own lessons. The teen's small group would be upstairs in our classroom. We enter David's office, I realize I've never been inside this room. There's a book shelf on one wall next to a wooden filing cabinet and a coffee table with a few chairs. I sit down in one of the cushioned seats, taking in all the details.

"Nice place," I say, gazing at the big desk that has a few photographs on it. He smiles.

"Here." He holds out a pad of blank paper and a pencil from one of the drawers. I thank him and take it.

I could try to draw Jesus... But that I would try to do in private, by myself. Besides, I don't think I could. I sketch out who's on my mind instead: my parents. He's smiling in the picture and she's laughing. Both of them hold hands, content in their joy. She has color in her cheeks as he gazes at her lovingly. Her hair is long, spiraling in a beautiful light brown, while his is like mine, only shorter, with freckles dotting his nose. There would be color, but I don't have any colored pencils. But still, they're almost alive. I touch their hands, expecting to feel skin against my own, but instead I collide with paper.

I shake off my momentary fantasy and glance up at David. He's finishing typing up something on his laptop. The office suddenly feels too small and the air too thick. I mutter that I'm going for a walk, leaving my picture alone on the table. He watches me leave. It's nearly five thirty. I walk back into the Multi-Purpose room and see Kayla walk in with Kelsey and the other two sisters. Kelsey spots me and gives me a real smile, but it's sad. I walk towards her. All the words rush back to me, stabbing me with the pained emotions of my mom. Dad was still there, watching us go at it. He knew what was going through my head. I feel tears coming to my eyes again. I move faster.

When I reach her, we hug immediately. I can feel her on the verge of tears, I'm crying silently.

"Rylyn, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says, her voice quivering. "I didn't mean it, I'm so glad you're okay."

"Kelsey," I breathe, "I'm sorry, too, I was just mad and-"

"It's okay," she says, forgivingly. She pulls away and takes a step back. Silence passes between the five of us. Maybe I should tell them about my dad, since they would probably like to hear it from me personally.

"My dad passed away yesterday," I say quietly. I study their faces and decide to focus on the floor instead. "I-I'm just so scared right now. I don't know what to do and I just want it all to be okay, but it's not. And-" My tears choke me out of my last words. I start trembling all over. Lakin steps forward to hold me in her arms.

"It's hard, I know," she soothes, "but we're here now, we'll help you." She slings an arm around my shoulders and we all walk upstairs together. Each step seems harder and harder to climb. I breathe deeply and sense the stitches pressing against my side. We walk into the room and sit down. I sit between Kayla and Megan on one of the middle couches.

"Rylyn, I am really sorry about your dad," Megan says. "I wish there was something that we could do."

"But you already are," I point out, "just being here makes a difference." She smiles at me.

"Hey, can I sign your cast?" Kayla asks, noticing my arm. The cast is white, which is convenient so all the colors will show up. My long sleeved purple shirt is bunched up above it, since I didn't want to stretch it out.

"Sure," I hand her the markers and the others gather around to sign it also. They put little designs next to their names making them unique. They are impatient on waiting for their turns.

"You got pretty banged up, didn't you?" Kelsey says, nodding at the bandage running from my temple to the middle of my cheek.

"A little bit," I say, smiling wearily at her. I explain to them that my ribs and lung took it pretty hard too, but I don't say what happened for me to get them damaged. Thankfully, they don't ask. A few minutes later, John, Michael, Landon, and Tyler come in together, all of them smiling broadly about something probably almost illegal.

"Hey, people," Tyler says, flopping down on a couch, stretching out his legs. Landon comes over and sits by Megan. He has a scratch along his knuckles and seems to be out of breath. Michael and John laugh and shake their heads at our confused expressions, but don't say a word.

"Okay, it's way to quiet in here," Megan sighs, "What did you do?"

"You don't want to know," Tyler says stretching his arms toward the ceiling, trying to keep the conversation vague. A mischievous grin springs across his face.

"Why?" Lakin asks, "Have you been robbing banks or jumping off buildings lately?"

Michael chuckles and says, "Almost." Should I be surprised at that? Kayla has an expression of pure confusion while Kelsey simply looks amused, and glances over at John with annoyance and discomfort. She scoots closer to the arm of the couch.

"Do you really want to know?" Landon asks.

"Yes," Megan says.

"Okay then...," he says, standing up faking exhaustion. "So we have a neighbor who apparently likes to let his kid shoot Nerf darts at our house. Unfortunately, there is gum stuck to the top of the dart so Dad has to scrape it off our windows constantly. And Dad, being the father that he is, decides to tell his sons and their friends to 'take care of it.'"

"He didn't care how but it had to be soon. Long story short, we got out with a few scratches and a broken window," Tyler sums up. There's an abnormal silence before Lakin says,

"That's it?"

"Yep," Landon says hurriedly.

"No, no that's not how it went," John says. He stands up to address all of us. "We wanted to take the kid's gum and darts so we kinda sorta had to get into their house. Logically, we sent a rope down their chimney while the fire was out and snuck in. Then we-"

"You trespassed onto somebody's property without permission?" Megan says disapprovingly.

"Yes, pay attention," Tyler says. He nods at John to go on and closes his eyes.

"Luckily, they weren't home. So we had to find the kid's room. We took the gum, we took the darts, we took the gun, it's all good."

"Wait," I say, "what about the broken window?"

"Well, we had to get out, I mean, we aren't Santa or the Easter Bunny," Landon says. "We smashed the window and covered up the evidence. Once we got out, we threw a rock in the window so there would be an explanation for it."

"Actually, it was more than one rock. And they came home as we were doing it so we had to sprint down the street to get away," John explains.

"It was genius, they didn't even notice that we took his stuff!" Michael exclaims. "And it's all thanks to this guy's brains." He ruffles John's hair playfully.

I'm a little surprised that John went with this plan. Maybe he made it, but when did he become so outgoing? He's usually not a risk taker and almost always goes by the rules. Things have been changing a lot lately.

"Um, I'm glad that you're happy with your accomplishment and all, but for one thing, that wasn't very Christian like and another thing is that Rylyn-" Megan starts.

"It's fine," I say quickly and quietly. "I'd rather not talk about it." She gives me a hug and I sigh into her shirt, trying not to let my vision turn blurry. I can see Landon's sympathetic expression over her shoulder. I cling to her tightly like she's my sister. Practically is. When we pull apart, Landon embraces me also. His touch is warm compared to my shivering hands.

"I'm so sorry," he says into my ear, "just hang in there."

After a round of hugs and pats on the back from the others, I feel embarrassed. They shouldn't be sympathizing for me, my situation isn't worth all this. "He's dead because of me!" I wanted to scream loud enough that the whole town could hear. Because it's the whole shameful truth.

*David*

I shut down the computer real fast and look around my office. Expectantly empty. I wish Rylyn would've stayed, maybe we could've worked out some things. Tension has built itself a wall between us ever since I told her that her dad was dead. I didn't want to say it, I hope she knows that. I glance at the table, where her lone picture sits. I walk over and pick it up.

"Her parents," I say under my breath instantly.

I can tell that she's breaking. All that she had left is gone and she longs for it, I can see it in her face. It's not just her father that she's missing, it's her mother more than anything it seems. Her eyes always seem far away, like she's remembering. I want to help her with this, but I don't know how I could make it better. I've never gone through this before, I had both parents growing up.

Just then, Michael comes in, alone. His eyes look saddened and his body exhausted. He closes the door gently.

"Hi, Michael," I say. I sit down and gesture for him to sit across from me. I set the picture down, hidden from view.

"David, I was just wondering," he starts, "does Rylyn have any family left? That you know of?"

"No, I don't think she does. She told me that she doesn't so it's probably true," I explain.

"Oh, okay. And, can I talk to you about something?" he asks, seeming cautious.

"Of course."

"So, there's this kid at school who's been bugging me lately. Like, not directly but just her actions towards others. She picks on other kids that are her age and younger. She's in eighth grade, with Landon, which worries me. They have a group that goes around, it seems. He's just been acting down lately and I wonder if that's why. What should I do?"

"How long has this been going on?" I ask.

"For a good week now," he says, and his eyes fill with worry. "I don't want him to get hurt, he's like my younger, sorta same age brother, you know?"

"I know what you mean," I say, "Have you talked to him?"

"Not about that. Tyler's noticed it, too, and tries to get him to talk but he won't. I've been praying, but it doesn't seem to be getting better."

"Huh," I say, scrambling for an answer. "I'd say to wait for him to come to you and maybe if you catch the kid picking on him, stand up for him. Keep praying, God's way sometimes takes longer than our way." I pat him on the back as we stand up. As we open the door and head up the hallway, all we hear is silence, which is odd. Other groups are here but I can't hear the teens like I normally do.

"What were they doing when you left?" I ask, my voice at a hushed whisper that the quiet urges me to use.

"I think Rylyn was telling them what was going on. She got hurt pretty hard, didn't she? I knew that she was hurt, but not that bad-how is she?" We turn the corner and start upward. I suddenly stop at the thump heard from upstairs and the laughter that follows. I take another moment before answering and starting up again.

"She's... Hurting right now. I was surprised that she agreed to come with me without having to try to convince her, actually. Could you try to be kinda like a mentor to her? And also the other older ones? She just needs some kind of structure right now."

"Yes, of course. It seems like her and her dad were always going through hard times, this must be a lot worse for her," he explains.

"Really? They have?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes," he says as we reach the top if the stairs. "Her mom passing and a bunch of money issues. They can't afford much." He glances guiltily toward the door and down at his jacket by the new popular brand that's come up. He looks at me before heading down the hallway as if he was ashamed of himself. I watch him for a few seconds before following him.

I hear another burst of laughter as I enter and I see Rylyn's tear streaked face smiling at Tyler and Landon wrestling for something on the ground. Tyler has his younger brother pinned down underneath his stomach, while Landon tries to wiggle free.

"What is going on?" I ask, unable to keep my own amusement hidden.

"He's got my phone!" Landon gasps, reaching for it while his brother keeps it out of his hands. Tyler tosses it to Michael hurriedly as he lets up on Landon, who scrambles up on his feet. Michael holds it high above his head, making Landon jump for it, seeing that he's only up to his friend's shoulder.

"Catch!" Michael says, tossing it back to Tyler. They toss it back and forth a few times before Landon finally manages to get it back by blocking Tyler's target.

All of them laugh before sweeping their words back into their own conversations. Rylyn's expression tries to stay alive in the short felt joy before returning to the memories of what happened earlier. Herself, Kayla, and Kelsey start their own conversation together while others gather into their groups. John and Colin, who has just arrived, sit beside one another as John starts explaining something. Megan, Lakin, Tyler, Micheal, and Landon begin a discussion of their own. On seeing this, I realize that maybe there needs to be a little more unity between the younger, newer kids and the older teens.

"Okay," I say, grabbing their attention. "Let's play a game: get a partner. But, it has to be someone you're not normally with and the opposite gender. Got it?" They all look at me understandingly and mutter a "yes" or an "okay" before standing and glancing at each other. John automatically takes a step back from Kelsey who asks Colin to be her partner instead.

"John! Partners?" Megan asks, generously volunteering to be with the younger guy. His nod is full of acceptance.

"Kayla...," Tyler says in a low, teasing voice, raising his eyebrows. "Wanna be with me?"

"Um, sure...," she says, shooting Rylyn a nervous look before whispering something to her. Rylyn smiles. She goes to stand by him cautiously. Michael looks between Landon, Lakin, and Rylyn. Then up at me. I meet his eyes and nod over at the only seventh grader left.

Before Michael can get what I'm trying to remind him of, Landon shrugs before saying, "Rylyn." Looking surprised, she glances at Lakin and walks over toward him.

"Aw man!" Lakin teases. "I'm stuck with you again?"

"Hey, it must mean something," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Um, no. Let's just pretend like that didn't happen."

"Okay," he says casually before stepping toward her.

"So here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna play Sardines, which is basically hide-n-go seek backwards. So one person hides and everyone else seeks. If you find them, then you hide with them. The first pair to find the person hiding, wins."

"Who's gonna hide?" Kelsey asks.

"Um, I guess I will, since I don't have a partner," I decide quickly. "Stay with your partner and count to one hundred. Then you can start looking. Oh, and don't open any doors that are closed or turn on the lights that are off. Try to be quiet near where other groups are meeting."

"Wait, do we have to wait for everyone to find you before we determine who wins?" John asks.

"Yes," I answer. "Any more questions or song requests....?"

"Song requests?" Megan asks curiously.

"Tell ya later," I say, grinning.

I close the door and head down the stairs.

The memory seems to steer me to where I should go. I start down the hall where the secretary's office, Solomon's office, the collage minister's and my office is, which I leave the door ajar when I pass by. I open the library's doors and the door to staircase opposite the hall of the other stairs. I make sure that a few closets are left open and go into the auditorium. There's plenty of room in here (could easily seat three hundred people) and it's dark. I leave the doors on both entrances open and the door to the baptistry. Hopefully no one's too afraid of the dark.

I survey my best options of where to hide in here. The cry room is the obvious choice, so are the pews in the back sections. The baptistry would be the first place I would look. I start walking toward the front. I pass by the stage and stop in front of the baptistry instead. Getting down on my hands and knees, I crawl under the pews until I'm somewhere in the middle of the cluster of them. And I wait, pressed against the tan carpet, keeping my breathing quiet.

Seconds tick by, and as I wait, I remember why I came into this room in particular. Once, I was teaching a small class in the auditorium of a church before we moved here. It was a group of various ages on a Sunday night like this one. At the end, I asked if there were any prayer requests, a boy, around five, answered that he wanted to sing "Jesus Loves Me" and exclaimed that that was his absolute favorite song. I smile at the pew above me.

I hear footsteps thudding through the long hallway that wraps around the top of the auditorium. Though it's enclosed, I can still make out the shouts that they call to one another. There probably (hopefully...) aren't any groups up there.

"Hello?" Tyler's voice calls through the open space. "Kayla, come on! Okay, you take that side and I'll take this one."

"Aren't we supposed to stick together?" she asks.

"Oh yeah... Okay then, let's look under these first."

After a few moments of silence, Tyler exclaims, "Kayla! Look I found a cracker. It's an animal cracker even. They're the best kind. Do you want it?"

"No, you can have it...," she says, laughing. A moment of eerie silence passes.

"This is actually pretty good," he says, his words muffled by a full mouth.

"You actually ate it?" she says, surprised and a little grossed out.

"Hey, gotta go back to my childhood sometime, right?"

She possibly mumbles something else but they're across the room so I can't hear them. Then nearer to me, I see Michael drop down on his hands and knees to the floor, pulling Lakin by the arm with him. Putting a finger to his lips, he starts to come in my direction, but can't see me. It's like one way glass; I can only see the silhouette of him form from the light coming through the entrance lobby, while I'm far enough away so that the light can't reach me.

Something catches her eye and she motions for him to follow her. He nods and they've moved so I can no longer see them. I smile to myself and continue to stay still. They probably spotted Kayla and Tyler's movements under the pews. It's so quiet in here that you could hear a-

"Colin!! Come on, let's look in here!"

-pin drop... I try my best not to laugh at the irony of my thoughts.

"Coming! You go too fast, he was probably hidden in one of the past eight rooms we glanced into," he complains to Kelsey.

"He's probably in here, just trust the logic," she says, her footsteps thumping against the carpet.

"Since when do you care about that sort of stuff?" he asks sarcastically.

"I care about it when it matters," she says, distracted.

Silence again, but this time it's draw out. My thoughts drift away from this place, this moment, and into the thoughts tumbling around inside my head. How would it feel to lose someone that close so soon? What would I be feeling, and could I've handled it if I were in Rylyn's shoes? I feel like I need to do something more than just be there, like I should make her feel at least a little more secure in a way.

Where is she in her faith anyway? Has she been baptized yet? I hope and pray hard that she is and if not one day will be. Now suddenly I'm in charge of her life and being, and it feels so... Different. All it took was a matter of a week to put things into motion where she has to depend on me for survival. Would she depend on me for counseling her through this also? I would like to get her to trust me to this point.

I feel a sudden poke in the arm and turn my head to see John smiling with delight knowing that he had won the game. I crane my neck to see Megan behind him. They crawl soundlessly under the pew beside me. I didn't even see or hear them come in, unlike the other groups so far. I hear a loud thump coming from somewhere in the middle of the room. Somebody must've hit their head.

"Are you okay?" Kayla asks, concerned.

"I'm fine," Tyler responds. "Thanks."

In pairs, they come to find me. All of them make it in here eventually. After John and Megan came, Lakin and Michael see me next, then Rylyn and Landon, Tyler and Kayla, and finally Colin and Kelsey. I call it a game and we continue in the hour up the stairs as a group (Tyler trying to make it up by climbing on the hand rail, nearly breaking his nose in the process...).

Tonight, we discuss sacrifice, what the world thinks it means and the church's opinion on it. I try not to look at Rylyn too much during this, since I can tell that she feels guilty that her dad protected and lost his life for her sake. She shouldn't feel this way, though. If she had decided to go and try to help him, she could've lost her's too. She has to know that this isn't her fault. But I don't bring it up during the lesson and neither does anybody else. She herself stays silent through the whole thing. Wouldn't this help her understand Christ's sacrifice for our sake? The situations are a little similar. I don't even realize this until now, does she?

On the way home, she is quiet. Her eyes flicker out the window then back at me. She gives me a weak smile before she turns her face away. I turn the radio on and don't say anything. Mirissa welcomes us home with dinner, but Rylyn doesn't touch the chicken and noodles set before her.

"So," Mirissa starts, "how was it?" She glances between the both of us. I wait to see if Rylyn will answer, but she keeps her gaze on me.

"It was good," I say. "Tyler almost broke another bone again. But no injuries other than that."

"Well that's good, I guess..."

"They didn't tell you about how they got into someone's house, did they?" Rylyn asks quizzically.

"No....," I say, trying not to sound surprised.

She begins the story, launching all the details that she was told by the four witnesses. I have to be honest, their plan sounds pretty smart and well thought out. It's better than anything me and my friends could've done when we were kids. Both of us listen carefully, never knowing when something could change. They're so unpredictable, it's funny how I expect them to have a new story every time I see any of them. This time, it appears John has joined the group. Honestly couldn't imagine that ever happening.

"Is the neighbor going to press charges for the damaged window?" Mirissa asks.

"I don't know, but they'll probably pay for it anyway," Rylyn answers. We fall into an uncomfortable silence, none of us knowing what to say. Earlier, we were debating on whether or not to tell Rylyn about the twins. We came to the conclusion that if she stays, we'd wait to tell her later, but if she had to leave, we'd tell her before she left. I take another bite of my food before Rylyn speaks up again.

"I saw Jesus." I nearly choke on my chicken going down my throat. I cough continuously before taking a gulp of water. She looks at me surprised and a little panicked.

"What did you say?" I ask, not believing my ears. I can see that she starts wringing her hands together under the table, since I'm sitting beside her. Suddenly, she becomes nervous.

"While I was knocked out, I saw Jesus," she says, even more quiet and shy than before. I glance quickly at Mirissa, and we exchange a look of complete interest.

"What happened?" I ask, trying to be casual. I turn back to my food and think to myself, "But this isn't a 'casual' situation."

"Well I... Um, at first it was really dark. And then suddenly I was in a lot of pain because these things keep hitting me, and I was very... Afraid."

"Then what?" Mirissa asks, prompting her to go on, eyes wide. She looks at both of us almost like we're crazy. But it's God-driven craziness so that makes it okay.

"Then He showed up and He lead me out. Then it wasn't dark anymore and we talked about things that I didn't understand at the time because I couldn't remember Dad or anything like that. It all seemed familiar but I couldn't figure it out."

"What did it feel like?"

"Very peaceful and calm... And happy... I can't really describe it, and I don't know if I could tell you want He looks like." She looks at me like it's not good enough that she can't describe what I long to know. I don't mind, though, and my heart reaches out to her.

I let a smile spread across my face and say something to her that I wholeheartedly mean, "Thank you."

* * * * *

Later that night, I fall asleep peacefully. Rylyn asked if she could sleep downstairs instead of the room upstairs that we prepared for her. But I don't blame her, I would feel safer sleeping nearer to my guardians also after what happened. She was perfectly okay with sleeping on the couch and wrapped up in a mound of blankets and pillows. She doesn't really make any sound when she sleeps, which I guess is good, but it's a little eerie to me. There just doesn't seem to be another human being in the house besides Mirissa and I.

I wake up in the middle of the night, jolted awake by something, probably the steady wind that started blowing against the house or the heater kicking on. I close my eyes, quickly falling under sleep's spell just as easily as before. I hear a sudden strangled cry come from the living room followed by heavy breathing. I bolt up out of bed. Mirissa wakes also, startled by the sound. Immediately we get up an go toward the door.

I see Rylyn sitting up and leaning her back against the couch, eyes closed and cheeks wet with her chest heaving up and down, reminding me of when she escaped. Mirissa reaches her first, asking her what's wrong. She doesn't answer. I walk over to her, careful not to startle her. She looks at me with wide eyes and a pained expression. She flings her arms around my neck and cries. Surprised, I put my arms around her hot, shaking body.

"What's the matter?" I ask, feeling compassion in her. I exchange a look with Mirissa over her shoulder and she clings to me. Mirissa, also surprised, puts a hand on her shoulder for comfort.

"I had a nightmare," she says, her voice strained, "and they made me watch Dad die. And they tortured him and then Kelsey and Kayla and Michael and John-all of them." After a few more seconds she adds, "And you."

She looks up at me with sad eyes as more tears spill out of them. I don't know what to say. I honestly feel a little shocked. What am I suppose to do when I just learned that someone has a nightmare about me-and multiple people that she loves-die? I hug her closer and raise my eyebrows at Mirissa and shrug. I don't think it would be much of a comfort to her if I said, "Well, we're all okay now!" Plus, her dad isn't here to know how to handle this which is why I'm probably making it worse. I'm not her dad, I can't just come out with these things-can I? I could try playing psychologist. But I'm at a loss for words.

"Can I trust you?" she asks carefully.

"Yes," I say.

"Nothing will leave this room," Mirissa assures her, "I promise."

"Okay. What if I do have family that I don't know about and I have to leave? How will I know that I can be safe with them? And if I do stay, will you keep me?" She glances up timidly. I hesitate, lost in thought.

It sounds like to me that she feels like she's just someone's property, like she doesn't feel like she is wanted anywhere. She's just a name in the computers getting sorted and investigated upon seemingly against her will. Sympathy rises in me. Names don't have feelings, they're letters that happen to fall into the same spot with the first of them capitalized. Names aren't flesh and blood, only ink written on a page. But names represent a person. And people aren't made of ink and don't live accidentally. People have purposes and minds that help them figure out things and allow them to know what stuff is and what it's meant to be.

To me, she isn't just a name-to God she isn't just a name. She is an interesting individual who struggles with fighting against her own mind that's suppose to be helping her live (isn't everyone this way?). Yet, she doesn't seem voluntary to talk about it when we could maybe help her out of this state. Could I be pushing to hard on her with these things? I realize that maybe I have been. What if in reality she hates it when I ask her to talk to us about this?

"For one thing, we'll be sure to keep in touch with you to know you'll be okay," I say. "And for another, if you get to stay around we will keep you with us." Relief floods her eyes, and I realize this is the second time today she's asked me this. Is she afraid I might change my mind overnight? (That has happened before... But it isn't occurring at the moment so she shouldn't be worried.)

After confirming that she will be alright, we all go back to bed. I can tell Mirissa is worried about Rylyn, and I can't blame her if I'm feeling the same way. Worrying is just another form of thinking except with more nerves involved. And more time gets to be put into that thought. Isn't that time that we put into worry wasted anyway? According to Luke 12:25, worrying won't add another hour to our lives. Some things can't be helped it seems.

I get up the next morning ready to go. It's the unusual Monday morning energy you have that you know has to be God-driven because Mondays are just plain hard to live through sometimes. Mirissa has to go to work and I usually don't go in until later in the week. And Rylyn... I honestly don't know what she's planning to do today. That must make me sound like a bad guardian.

"All right, Rylyn, ready to do... Stuff!" I ask enthusiastically after loading the dishwasher with cereal bowls. She looks up at me from her sketchpad and shrugs. The circles under her eyes suggest that the nightmare last night kept her up longer than we anticipated. I don't mention it.

"What kind of stuff?"

"I don't know... What kind of stuff do you want to do?"

"What are we allowed to do?" That may be an important question. I've forgotten this sometimes... Just a word of advice; your mom probably won't like it if you decide to turn your bedroom into a real, tangible hideout you found in the woods.

"Um... Well, do you wanna play a board game or something?"

"Sure, why not?" she answers, and gets up from the couch. I can see on her face that her ribs bother her when she sits up and things like that. Maybe I shouldn't have suggested the game we played yesterday to take a little caution with her healing injuries. I try not to dwell on it too much since she doesn't put emphasis in wanting my help with simple things. She probably doesn't mind it but she's still a very independent person, or so it seems. She only looked to her dad and now that he's gone... She must feel that she has to handle herself alone. Which brings up the question again; would she learn to depend on us?

I lead her to the closet across from the front door and show her the top shelf full of games. Scanning them quickly, she turns to me and asks, "What do you recommend?"

"This one's fun," I say, reaching up to retrieve a blue box. "It's a little old, but it's simple." We walk over to the dinning room table and I explain as I'm setting it up. "The goal of the game is to build your city and collect a certain number of points. Whoever reaches seventy wins or whoever fills up their mat first. But sometimes we only play to fifty, since it can drag on and on and on..." I hand her a plastic sheet with a grid printed in it. "Roads are worth two, shops are four, apartments are six, and skyscrapers are ten. To get money to buy them, you have to get a job. So you draw your career card at the beginning and then two action cards on every turn. You can play one action per turn and you have to discard a card every turn also. You start with four." I hand four cards to her. "When you gain points, you get to move your piece up on this board. You can also lose points, depending on the action. That's basically it. Got it?"

"Yep," she says, surveying the landscape of the game.

"I'll help you out as it goes, since it's only your first time," I say. I scan the directions really fast. "And person with longest arms goes first."

She laughs and holds out her right arm, making her fingers straight. I do the same.

"Looks like mine are longer," I say. She leans forward so they're the same length.

"What happens if there's a tie?"

"Sit up," I say, playfully shoving her arm away. Smiling, she lets it hang at her side.

The game goes on for about forty-five minutes, since we're the only two playing. She wins, catching on quickly and being very good at strategizing. (It's only because I let her though! Actually it's not, I played with all the cards I had and yet still got beat by a thirteen year old who's never even heard of the game before. Should I be embarrassed?) I let her do her own thing, and I do mine. The unusual energy wears off into a sleepy afternoon filled with nothing. I got most of my work done for today and did a load of laundry, which Rylyn did help me with, by the way. Our paths didn't seem to cross very often, she was upstairs for most of the day, alone and isolated. I don't disturb her not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

Mirissa comes home and we all have dinner together. Rylyn sleeps in her own bed tonight. I go up to check on her to find her asleep with a picture of her dad clutched to her chest. I sit on the edge of her bed.

"Oh, Rylyn," I sigh. "Will you ever trust me?" She doesn't answer, of course, she's asleep. I shouldn't be up here. I shouldn't, but I am. I stand up, suddenly afraid that maybe I'm just the one who wants her to be my daughter instead. I can't be like that, she probably doesn't want me to be her dad anyways. I go downstairs and don't look back.