Stepping into that courtroom was the hardest part. Or, at least, you told yourself it was. All eyes turned to you, walking alongside Sarah Cameron, whose own trial was probably more famous than yours was. You weren't sure what kind of message the two of you walking in together would give off, but by the look on Brendon's face, it wouldn't necessarily be a bad one.

    You sat on the pew-like bench next to Lana and Sarah sat next to you. Straightening your spine, you steeled yourself against the harsh gazes and whispers from those surrounding you. It didn't matter what they said about you. All that mattered was getting through today and getting through the trial.

    As you had told Brendon, you had been doing this your entire life. Pretending. The emotion on your face was almost always different from the one in your chest. Now, you just had to be in control of both at all times.

    When the defense attorney's assistant turned around to look at you, Lana placed a hand on your shoulder, just as Brendon told her to. She gave her best impression of the 'are you ok?' look, which she was really good at when she wasn't under pressure like she was now.

    Forcing your lower lip to shake ever so slightly, you gave a shaky nod of your head before sitting up taller.

    Innocent, scared, but strong. A girl fighting for her freedom, not a rebellious child looking to rid herself of responsibility.

    The attorney's assistant turned back around and you looked over at Brendon, who was watching you. He flashed a quick thumbs up. That eased your nervous stomach at least some.

    You waited with bated breath as the judge opened the door hidden between the witness's chair and the jury's bench, knowing that the next person to come through that door would be your father. The judge was saying something and you noticed that it got significantly quieter in the courthouse after he did, but you had no idea what he was saying.

    The blood that rushed in your ears echoed the pounding of your heart like a drum. You couldn't even hear the sound of your own breathing. You weren't even sure if you were breathing. It was entirely possible that you had stopped completely and any second you would pass out. Maybe that would be preferable to sitting here like a helpless duck waiting for the hunter.

    Your vision started to blur as you stared at the door. You reminded yourself to blink. Blinking was still important.

    The metal door handle turned and your breath hitched. The door started to open and your heart rate spiked. Bile rose in your throat and you weren't sure you could hold it back no matter how hard you clamped your teeth into your cheek. Not even the familiar iron taste of blood could pull you out of the trance that turning doorknob put you under.

    You had never disliked the color orange more. It was the last color you thought your dad would look good in and you were right. It didn't take you very long to realize that you were hyperfocusing on the orange jail jumpsuit with the black number etched across the chest so that you didn't have to look your dad in the face.

    But you and Brendon talked about this. You had to look him in the eyes, stare him down. Make sure he knew that you were here to drag him into hell just as he had done to you. You weren't here to run away.

    As soon as your gaze met your dad's, you wanted to run. He was staring at you, eyes wide, eyebrows pinched together, tears brimming his lashes. He had been crying. Your heart shattered in your chest and what was left of your courage deflated.

    That was your dad up there. All alone. What were you doing? Sitting here surrounded by all these people when he was up there alone. He needed someone. He needed you.

    Sarah reached her hand out and laced her fingers through yours again, her thumb brushing against that scar on your hand ever so slightly, but just enough to remind you.

    No, your dad didn't need you. He was up there alone because of his own actions. He was up there alone wearing that ugly ass color of orange because he was a dick and an asshole and an all-around terrible person. That's why he was up there.

    You sat up straighter, lifted your head higher, tore your gaze away from his and looked at the judge.

    You weren't going anywhere.

    As soon as your demeanor changed, so did his. That sad, pathetic look in his eyes hardened and his eyebrows lowered into a light glower. You could feel him staring holes into your skull, even if you weren't looking at him.

    The air in the room shifted as well. The whispers were no longer about you and Sarah, but about your dad. You tried not to listen, but you could hear some of what those around you were saying.

    "He's worked with your father for years, no way he did this."

    "He's always been such a kind man."

    "It was that wife of his. She must have poisoned the kids against him."

    "He doesn't deserve this."

    You tightened your jaw, feeling your nose burn. Sarah squeezed your hand tighter. You glanced over at her, only to see that her eyes were full of tears. She would be going through this very same thing in not too long.

    The judge settled in and raised his hand, the entire room falling silent. You were wondering now if you could have requested a female judge, and if that would have helped anything at all. You knew the judge, an old friend of your mother's, a man named Gregory, but your mom had always called him Greg.

    With his relation to your mom, you wondered if that would put him more on your side or your father's. It was impossible to tell.

    "Please rise," he said, his voice gravelly. He needed some water maybe almost as badly as you did.

    Sarah half pulled you to your feet. You were too busy thinking about the one loose curl in his hair that was sticking up on the top of his head to think about listening to what he said. Even once you were standing, your mind blurred over and you missed half of what was coming out of his mouth.

    Brendon said that today would be short. They would read the charges, maybe the penalty, and your father would say them whether he pleads guilty or not. All that you could think in your head was everything Brendon told you about how you were supposed to act.

    It usually came so easily to you. You knew exactly what to do, how to shift your face, when to cry, what to say, to get exactly what you wanted out of people. But this was whole new terrain. Everything was different now. You couldn't form a single thought of your own that hadn't come directly out of Brendon's mouth.

    "Please sit," the judge said, signalling to everyone else in the room. Only your father stayed standing. "The defendant is being charged with first degree child abuse of his children Elma and Bradford with a maximum sentence of life in prison. How does the defendant plea?"

    Hearing your name up there was enough to cause you to flinch. You weren't sure if that was a good thing or not. The whispers started again behind you, quieter this time, and you could swear you could feel people staring holes into the back of your head. But Sarah was right there, breathing just loud enough for you to hear so that you could copy her. You weren't sure if she was doing it intentionally, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

    The courthouse fell quiet as all eyes turned toward your dad. This could all be over now. He could just plead guilty and they could all skip the painful process of you telling everyone on the island what really happened behind the closed doors of your mansion that had never been a home.

    But you knew your dad better than that. He was a control freak, so there was no way he wasn't going to try and talk himself out of this. You had already heard him say it over and over again in your head, from the moment you walked into the building.

    Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty.

    You had to be prepared for it. Brendon told you to be prepared for everything.

    You watched as your dad straightened his back, lifted his head, the metal of his handcuffs clanking together.

    "Not guilty."

    It didn't matter that you knew he was going to say it, it didn't matter how many times you imagined him saying it. Nothing prepared you for the words actually coming out of his mouth.

    As soon as he said it, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and your eyes started to well with tears.

    "Son of a bitch," you heard JJ hiss.

    "The defendant has pleaded not guilty," the judge said.

    "I have to get out of here," you squeaked, not sure who would be listening. Your stomach started to boil and you felt what little was in your stomach start to push its way to the surface. "I have to get out of here."

    "You're okay," Sarah whispered, using her other hand to grab onto your upper arm and keep you steady.

Even sitting down, you weren't sure if you could stay upright. Your head was spinning, your stomach rolling, your knees shaking. Sweat beaded down the back of your neck, but you were cold to the bone.

"The trial will begin this Wednesday at 9am. Court dismissed."

The pounding of the gavel startled you out of your trance. The audience started to file out of the room, varying degrees of support for your father and disgust toward him. You flicked your eyes toward your dad, who was being led back through the wooden door. He turned back around to look at you and your stomach twisted even further.

There were no more tears in his eyes, no more pity or fear in his face. His lips pulled into a smile, slowly revealing his shining teeth. You were once again left unable to breathe, your throat tightening. Your eyes welled and your nose burned.

"I have to-"

Before you could finish your sentence, you tore your hand out of Sarah's and started for the exit, pushing through the crowd of people. You tightened your jaw, screwing your mouth shut so there was no chance of anything coming out.

"Hey, watch it!" someone said as you shoved past them.

But you couldn't stop. You had to get out. You shoved and elbowed and ducked your way through the people until you finally came to the exit and then you were running.

The wind blew the tears out of your eyes as your legs pumped underneath you. You didn't run far because your stomach couldn't handle it, but you ran far enough that you were away from most of the crowds. Before you even slowed to a stop, all the defenses keeping you from vomiting fell away and you were on your knees, emptying your stomach onto the grass.

Someone dropped to the ground next to you and moved your hair out of your face.

"It's okay." Kie. "It's okay. Just let it out."

You sat there in the grass, heaving until there was nothing left and even after. Tears squeezed out of your eyes, but you weren't crying, not really. There was no time for that.

If Kie was here, you knew the others weren't much farther behind. You couldn't imagine what you looked like, sitting there on the grass throwing up. It probably wasn't a pretty sight.

"JJ, can you grab some water from the bus?" Kie called.

You didn't hear a response, but you heard a car door pulling open from not too far away. A few moments later, Kie was offering the water to you, already opened, but you simply shook your head. Your arms that held you up were shaking, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum.

"I know you don't want to," Kie whispered. "But you have to. You have to have something in your stomach."

Reluctantly, you sat back on your heels, keeping your head down. Kie slowly let your hair fall back as she handed you the bottle. Even the weight of the bottle made your hands tremble as you brought it to your lips. The water felt slimy as it slid down your throat and you cringed. It was a small sip, but it made Kie smile.

"Good," she said. "Let's get you home, alright?"

"Brendon will want to talk to me," you told her, voice weak.

"He can wait," Kie said, taking the water bottle and tossing it off toward someone, probably JJ. She then hooked her arms under yours and helped you to your feet.

Just as you had suspected, the others were standing there, watching you. Or at least they were standing there pretending like they weren't watching you. Even Lana was standing there, a few feet behind the others.

"Should we go over to the Chateau for a bit?" Kie asked. "Take a breather away from all of this?"

You nodded your head, even if you didn't really know if you wanted to or not. In all honesty, you just wanted to sleep. It wasn't even lunchtime and you were already exhausted.

"Is that okay Lana?" You asked, looking over at her.

"Of course, El, sweetheart," she said. "I'll go pick up Kid and we'll do something today. You just take the time you need," she said.

You nodded your head again, feeling your heart tighten. You couldn't recall the last time an adult actually cared about what you needed, what you wanted. There had never been someone who was willing to watch Kid so that you could cry or you could finish your homework or so you could shower before starting one of your two jobs. And now there was and you had no idea how to thank her.

"We'll get her back to you, Mrs. L," JJ said.

Lana just smiled and turned back toward your truck. Once she was gone, Kie turned toward you and ran her fingers through your hair a few times. 

"Let's get you home, yeah?"

******

    With the jacuzzi still in the front yard of the Chateau, it didn't take long for you to decide what to do with the rest of your day. Kie and Pope were making sandwiches while the rest of you were getting the pool ready. JJ pulled a blunt out of his pocket, lit it up, and offered it to you, but you shook your head/

    "You've never rejected a blunt before," JJ said, concern edging in his voice.

    "Lana asked that I keep sober during the trial. She doesn't want it to interfere," you said. Pope nodded his head and tapped his temple.

    "Keep the signal clear."

    You forced a laugh.

    "Something like that."

    "Well, Ms. Lana's not here," JJ said, offering it to you again. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

    "After everything she's done for me, I think I can do this one thing for her," you told him. With a shrug, JJ put the end of the blunt back in his mouth.

    "Suit yourself."

    You did want to take it. Or maybe you wanted to flick the blunt out of his mouth and inhale the smoke straight from his lungs. That feeling of weightlessness was what you needed right now, to ease the ache in your chest. But you couldn't. Lana had trusted you and you would die before betraying her trust.

Before the jacuzzi was even ready, JJ and John B were stripping off their button ups and kicking off their shoes.

    "Be careful!" Sarah called, plucking the shirts off the ground. "These are all the nice clothes you're going to get from us and you have to look good."

    They were a little more careful pulling off the slacks. You watch with a smile as John B tried to coax Sarah inside, pulling against her dress. She was laughing, even as his hands glanced across her thighs. It make your stomach squeeze, thinking how he could touch her uninhibited. You spared a glance over at JJ, who was also watching them closely.

    Your smile faded.

    "I'm going to help Pope and Kie," you said before turning and making for the house so you wouldn't have to think any longer about all the things that you didn't want to think about.

    The two were inside, shoving each other lightly and laughing about something.

    "How's it going?" You asked as you approached.

    They had both changed sometime between arriving at the Chateau and you entering it. Kie was wearing a pair of denim shorts and her bikini top, Pope in cargo shorts and one of his t-shirts. They both turned toward you as you came inside.

    "Good," Pope said, his laugh trailing off. "Just started on the sandwiches. Wanna help?"

    You nodded your head and took a step toward them, pulling at the edges of the blazer that you wore.

    "I have some clothes that you can wear if you'd like," Kie said with a gentle smile. "So you don't have to be in that all day."

    You looked down at the pencil skirt and overly fancy blouse. You hadn't thought about it much. It wasn't really the kind of clothes that you were used to wearing, but it hadn't been uncomfortable really until she brought it up.

    "That'd be nice," you said.

    "Here, there's a bag in JB's room right down there. Just take whatever you'd like," she said and turned back toward the countertop.

    You nodded your head and shuffled toward the back room, having taken off your shoes in the bus. After digging through Kie's bag for only a few minutes, you decided on a pair of shorts and a sweater, even though it was still hot outside. You still couldn't stand the look of that horrific thing on your arm. Even as you changed your top out for the thin sweater, you could bring yourself to look down at the bandage that covered the scabbing, ugly mess of your arm.

    Emerging from the bedroom, you found Pope and Kie had finished the sandwiches and had already delivered some of them to the others and were clambering into the jacuzzi. All you had to do was go out there and join them. You thought about taking off the sweater, joining them in the tub, laugh with them.

    But the longer you thought about it, the heavier your breathing became. If you took off your sweater, the wrap protecting your scabbing arm would be clearly seen. You wouldn't even be able to put your arm in the water at all and everyone would see it and it would just ruin everyone else's mood and there was no point in you doing that.

    Your nose was starting to burn and run, eyes stinging at the simple thought of it. Now you were going to stand there and cry instead of doing anything productive or helpful and then you would appear weak, helpless. They would all stare at you, pity in their eyes, as if you were some abused puppy that needed to be coddled.

    Instead of doing either of those things, you stepped backward up the steps onto the porch and slipped back inside the house.

    As soon as the house door was shut, shutting away the sound of laughter and music, you turned and ran for the bathroom. You barely made it to your knees in front of the toilet before you started throwing up again. If this was going to be a more constant thing, it was going to get really old really fast.

    With the gagging came tears and those tears rolled hot and heavy down your cheeks as you struggled to gasp in a single solid breath. Your chest was tight, your stomach flipping with every attmpted breath. You were dying, you were sure of it. You were going to die right here, throwing up in the Chateau toilet.

    There was a quiet knock at the frame of the door, but you couldn't even turn around to look as stomach acid forced its way out of your throat. Whoever knocked knelt behind you, pulling your hair out of your face.

    "It's okay." Sarah. Her voice was quiet; soft but sad. She ran a hand down your back and hummed. "You're okay."

    By the time you finally stopped dry heaving, your cheset was so tight it was like someone had dropped a rock right on it and was pressing down with all of their might. You turned to Sarah, tears still falling from your eyes.

    "I can't breathe," you gasped, placing a hand on your chest. "I can't breathe."

    Sarah put her arms around you, brushing away the tears as they fell.

    "Look at me," she said quietly and you forced your eyes up to meet hers. "Copy me."

    She breathed in through her nose and you copied her. She nodded her head and repeated it. But all you could do was shake your head, throat tightening again.

    "I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't." You shook your head and pulled away from her, even the feeling of her fingertips burning against your skin.

    "Hey, Elm, listen to me-"

    "No, no, no, no...." You gasped for breath. "I can't do this, I can't do this."

    "Elm-"

    "It's killing me, Sarah." You could barely get the words out of your mouth as tears splashed against your bare legs. "It's going to kill me."

    "Elm, look at me, look at me," Sarah put her hands on your cheeks and the feeling didn't burn. Her touch was cool, helping the scorching heat that was rising in your chest and stomach. You struggled to look in her eyes, but forced yourself to anyway. Her eyes were swimming with tears that mirrored yours. "This won't kill you."

    "No, I-"

    "It won't kill either of us," she said and like a train, you suddenly remembered she was going through the same thing that you were. Your hands were resting in her lap and you could feel her heart pounding. "We only die once and it won't be because of them."

    Your lip trmebled as you realized that you had to made it through this. If not for Kid, if not for yourself, if not for justice, for Sarah. If you could do it, if you could survive this whole ordeal and make it out, then so could she. She needed you to survive the trial, survive your dad, so that she knew that she could do it too.

    You nodded your head once, keeping your chin against your chest. Sarah dipped her head and pressed her forehead against yours. You could hear her breathing shudder, her heart pounding. And you copied her again, breathing in sync until you could finally breathe on your own. Your nails dug into her forearms, but she didn't even flinch.

"We're going to be okay," she whispered and you let out a shaking breath. "We've made it this far. Just take it one day at a time."

You weren't sure how long you sat there, the two of you in the Chateau bathroom, just trying to breathe through the thick fog that was your lives now. Sarah didn't move, she didn't say anything else. She just breathed. And that's all you needed, to be reminded how to breathe. If she could breathe, so could you.

When you finally pulled away from her, your back was sore from being hunched over for so long. Long streaks of tear stains marked Sarah's cheeks, but she smiled all the same. A small smile, hardly convincing, but it was a smile nonetheless. You smiled back.

"You want to join them?" she asked quietly.

"I think I'm going to go home and sleep," you said.

Sarah nodded her head.

"I'll drive you."

She went out to the others and told them you were going home. She must have said something else to them because not even JJ came to see if you were okay. You weren't sure how you would react if he had. You didn't have the energy to break down again and seeing that damned look in his eyes would tear you to pieces.

You slid into the bus and Sarah pulled out of the drive. The radio was on, playing quietly as Sarah tapped her hands to the beat of the music. It was a fun song, a song you knew. But you couldn't bring yourself to sing it. Or even hum. Or even think. You just wanted to sleep.

As you walked up the stairs to Lana's door, your feet felt like lead. What little strength you had left in you was used up getting up those creaking, wooden steps.

"Do you want me to stay?" Sarah asked, still standing at the car.

All you could do was shake your head.

"If you need anything, please call me," Sarah told you. You nodded. "Seriously, Elm. You're not doing this alone. Please don't ever think that you have to do this alone."

You nodded a little more genuinely.

"Love you, girl. I'll see you tomorrow."

You waited at the door as she drove away. And then you stood there longer. Your eyelids drooped, your arms pulling your shoulders down, down, down. You stood there so long, a seagull came and sat on the porch, undisturbed by the flesh and bone statue standing there. When you finally moved to turn toward the door, the seagull squawked in surprise and flew away.

You dragged your feet through the house and into the back room where you flopped onto the bed. As soon as your face hit the pillow and your eyes closed, you were asleep.

Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty.

    The sun hadn't even come up over the horizon when you woke up. Kid was sleeping behind you, his forehead pressed against your back, so you made sure not to move. You blinked yourself out of the haze of just waking up from a dreamless sleep. Though you weren't entirely sure it was dreamless. You thought that maybe you dreamed of something, but it had faded so quickly, you couldn't remember what it was. All you had left was an acid taste in your mouth and an empty feeling in your gut.

    Maybe you were just hungry.

    Kid groaned in his sleep and rolled over, giving you space to slide out of the bed. You were still wearing the clothes you had fallen asleep in. You weren't sure how long you had been asleep for. Definitely more than 12 hours. It was completely disorienting, but you needed it.

    As quietly as you could, you plucked your computer off the ground by your stuff and shuffled out toward the dining room. Even though it was still night, the air was warm. Like a hug. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

    You made a quick cup of tea and settled into the wicker chair on the deck. You pulled out your phone to text Brendon, only to find a text from JJ from the day before. It was a video of him falling out of the jacuzzi, most definitely filmed by Pope from the deep belly laugh. You smiled and watched it again.

    There was also a missed call from Brendon. You didn't have the energy to listen to his voicemail left, so you texted him instead.

    Sorry we didn't talk after yesterday. Needed to sleep. I can meet today whenever.

    Almost as soon as you had texted him, he responded.

    Understand. 9?

    Sounds good.

    You scowled. What was he doing up at this time? It was barely past 5 o'clock in the morning. You wondered if it was normal for him to be up this early. Or if maybe he hadn't gone to bed at all.

    With a sigh, you set your phone aside, face down, and popped open your laptop. The open, blank document was still there, the little black line blinking mockingly. The last time you opened this document, you erased the incoherent word vomit you had written in haste the first night you spent at Lana's house.

    This letter to your mom that you had been trying to write since you were fourteen. This letter that you had typed out at least a hundred times and deleted every single time. The words were never right. There was never a phrase or an idiom or a metaphor that could even begin to explain to your mother everything you were feeling.

    Most of the time, the letter was angry. How could she leave you? How could she abandon her children to the mercy of a man she knew was hurting them? It was cursing and screaming and telling her how much you hated her.

    Sometimes it was sad. You missed her. You wanted your mommy back. You wanted back the woman who used to sing to you when you got hurt, who would help you out of trees when you climbed too high, who taught you how to bake cookies from scratch and play hopscotch. You missed the woman who would hold you and Kid when your father was on one of his rampages, who would wrap you up in her arms and kiss your heads and tell you it was going to be okay. You missed your mom.

    Even fewer times you forgave her. These were the shortest letters. The ones that you wrote when you were half awake, after the ghost of a dream of her beautiful face. With tears running out of your eyes, you would tell her that you forgave her for leaving before falling back to sleep. And in the morning you deleted it because it was never true.

    Now, you stared at that blank page and you tried to figure out how you were feeling today. This morning. But there was nothing. You were still, quiet. You weren't angry or sad, but you weren't prepared in any way to forgive her. Your feelings for her were just as blank and white and unfeeling as that empty page.

    You stared at it until you went cross-eyed. With a frustrated growl, you slammed the computer shut and tossed it to the chair a few feet away from you. The sun was still below the horizon, but the sky was starting to turn grey and a different kind of chill filled the air. Morning was coming.

    Lana and Scooter had a small row boat, similar to the HMS Pogue, tucked away in the reeds by the docks. You shuffled quietly back inside and slipped on a sweater and a pair of shoes. It was cold already and stepping into the cold water sent a deep shiver to run up your spine. But it was better than the empty feeling that you were left with.

    You waded out toward the boat, a small little motorized thing, and clambered inside. The engine sputtered and coughed until it finally roared to life. John B had taught you how to run the motor, to steer, to move the boat the way you want it to. You wondered if you would remember it.

    Before the sun had tipped over the horizon, you were out on the water, steering the boat chunkily through the swamp. You didn't go far when you stopped. Lana's house was still in sight. Bringing your legs up to your chest, you settled your eyes on the line where the sky and the ocean touched. The cold had settled into your stomach, your chest, so much so that you barely felt it anymore. Just one more thing you had grown numb to.

    The sun started to rise and the sky flashed with pink and gold and the barest hint of purple. You watched as the light chased the empty darkness of the night away. The stars disappeared, outshone by the light of the sun. Wind rustled through the reeds, making them sing. Morning birds and the evening cicadas joined in the song. Color and light danced and the gentle waves made the boat sway. It seemed as though all of nature moved to the melody of the light of the sun in complete harmony. And sitting there in your little boat, so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, you were sort of a part of it all.

    Your heart beat in your chest like a drum, inhaling and exhaling right along with everything else. Your hair waved like the reeds and the leaves of the trees, catching the morning dew. Your eyelashes captured the sunlight, holding it for their own.

    Of all the things that had become meaningless and void to you, everything that left you feeling nothing but apathy, you hoped that this feeling would last. That you would always be in awe of the dawn, no matter how bad things got. The sun always rose in the morning and nature always sang its song in response.

    Lana was up and making coffee when you came back. She didn't seem worried that you were out and greeted you with a smile.

    "You must be cold," she said. "Coffee is almost ready whenever you're changed."

    You nodded, dragging your feet back to your room. Kid was still sound asleep, as he should be. You were sluggish as you changed, your bones stiff from the cold. But once you were wearing something warmer, it didn't feel so bad. Lana was reading something, her glasses on the tip of her nose and coffee in her hand, when you came back out. She didn't look up as you came in, but simply nodded to a cup of coffee next to her.

    You cringed when you touched the hot cup of coffee. It wouldn't have been so bad if your fingers were frozen. Instead of drinking it, you held the cup in your hands, allowing it to thaw your fingers first. The warmth snuck up your arms and little by little you found yourself able to move a bit more.

    "I did that a lot after Scooter died," Lana said. She had been so silent, you had almost forgotten she was there.

    She had been so silent about losing Skipper, you had forgotten about that, too.

    "I'm sorry," was all you could find to say.

    "I would sit out there in his boat, watch the sunrise, or the sunset, didn't really matter. And I would wait for him to come back, or for the cold to kill me. Whichever came first."

    You looked down at the mug, watching the steam that curled up from the brown liquid. Lana had lost her husband, the person she loved most in the world, and you hadn't even given her a single thought. You had been so swallowed up by your own sorrows that you had forgotten other people in the world were hurting too.

    "But," she continued with a sigh, finally looking up from the book she was clearly no longer reading. "I haven't felt the need to since you and Kid. There have been more important things to do than to wallow in my grief, to wait for someone who isn't coming back."

    You nodded your head. You understood what she was saying.

    "That's not to say anything about what you were doing out there. Go out if you need to, every morning. I'll make sure that boat has gas. I just want you to know that you and your brother have saved my life." You froze, not even able to blink. "The things that happened to you were terrible and I wished they had never happened, but because they did, the two of you have been brought to me and you saved my life."

    Your eyes burned, either from the lack of blinking or from tears, you weren't really sure. All you knew was you couldn't look at her. You couldn't, not without falling to pieces.

    "I just want you to always remember the good you have done for other people, El, even if you don't see it. You just being here is enough."

sorry y'all for being MIA! school has been a lot, but i've been writing little bits at a time and i'm really glad i got this out to you guys.
sorry for the skipper confusion i totally just forgot that his name was scooter lol.
stay happy, stay healthy, and stay groovy folks!
caroline