tw: mentions of sexual assault
if you are sensitive to the topic, i am begging you NOT to read this chapter. your mental health and well being matters so much more. if you experience any situation to deal with sa, don't say silent.

January 21, 2015

Dear James,

It's been a month since we left the US, and Budapest has been much calmer than I imagined. There's a sense of peace here, a quiet that we haven't felt in a long time. We don't have to stay undercover as much, and we even have our own place. It's just an apartment, but it's big enough for me and you. We didn't need anything too big; after all, it's only the two of us.

You and I have been living here for several months now. I had my ninth birthday recently—though, technically, Somehow, you knew about my birthday. I don't know how he figured it out, but we celebrated it a few days ago. He even managed to get me a cupcake with a candle. It was a small thing, but it made me happy.

You says we're safe now, and I believe you. I can finally sleep through the night without waking up from nightmares or fearing someone might find us. Oh, and I finally finished that book he gave me. At first, I hated it. I gave up after a month because it was boring, but you insisted I finish it. You made me read a chapter a day. Turns out, it wasn't so bad after all. I even started enjoying it by the end.

You says my reading and writing have improved a lot. You hasn't read my diaries, but when we practice together, you always says I'm doing well. I love you. You're my best friend.

- Cecelia Barnes

"Ceil, breakfast, doll!" James called from the kitchen, his deep voice resonating through the small apartment.

"Coming!" Cecelia yelled back, hurriedly closing her notebook. She slid it under her bed and dashed into the kitchen, her thick brown hair flying into her face as she ran.

"Make your bed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her. Cecelia nodded quickly, but James wasn't fooled.

"Lying to me?" he pressed, his tone gentle but firm. Cecelia hesitated before nodding, her cheeks flushing.

"Cecelia..." James sighed, shaking his head.

"James..." Cecelia mocked with a grin, a mischievous glint in her eyes. He gave her a look but couldn't hide his smile as she dug into her eggs.

As Cecelia ate, James grabbed a hairbrush from the counter. Her hair was a mess, tangled and frizzy from sleep. He began to work through the knots, gently but firmly.

"We really need to get you a haircut," he muttered, wincing as the brush snagged on another knot.

"You need a haircut too," Cecelia shot back, her mouth full of eggs. James chuckled as she winced from a particularly stubborn tangle.

"Sorry, doll," he apologized, loosening the brush's grip on her hair.

"How're the eggs?" he asked, hoping to distract her.

"They're good," Cecelia mumbled, surprising him. Usually, she complained they were too runny or not runny enough, but today she was strangely agreeable.

"No complaints?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Nope," she said with a grin, and he patted her shoulder, relieved to see her in a good mood for once. But as he tried to brush through her hair, he realized just how unmanageable it was.

"God, your hair's so thick," he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.

"Ask my dead parents," Cecelia said, her voice flat and emotionless. The room grew quiet. James frowned, pausing for a moment, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"Don't joke like that," he said softly.

"They sold me," she continued, her eyes focused on her plate. "And then guess what, instead of money, Mom got her brains blown out, and Pops—"

"Ceily, I'm serious," James interrupted, trying to keep his voice steady. "Don't talk about it."

Cecelia sighed, a look of defiance crossing her face before she relented. "Sorry," she muttered, and James nodded, the tension slowly easing out of his shoulders.

"It's fine," he said, though it was clear he was still bothered by the mention of her past. He put the brush down, realizing that detangling her hair wasn't going to work. He needed scissors.

"Ceily, sit tight," he said, rummaging through the kitchen drawers. He found a pair of kitchen scissors and turned back to her. "We're cutting this mess."

Cecelia's eyes widened as she watched him approach with the scissors. "You better not give me a bowl cut," she warned, squirming in her seat.

"No bowl cuts, I promise," James chuckled. He sectioned her hair, trying to figure out where to start. "Just a trim, alright?"

She nodded hesitantly, but as soon as she heard the first snip, her eyes went wide. "What did you do?" she gasped, reaching up to feel her hair.

"Relax, doll," James said, holding up a long strand of her hair with a smile. "I swear I know what I'm doing."

"You just cut it out!" she shrieked, half laughing, half horrified.

"Trust me, it's gonna look great," he assured her, though his confidence was mostly for her benefit. He hadn't cut anyone's hair since his sister, Rebecca, all those years ago.

For the next few minutes, the apartment was filled with the sound of scissors snipping and the occasional yelp from Cecelia when James tugged a little too hard.

"See? You're gonna have boys chasing after you now," James teased as he trimmed her hair.

"Actually, no. You can't get a boyfriend until you're 30," he added with a mock sternness.

Cecelia grew quiet, her gaze dropping to her lap. "I don't like boys," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. James's heart sank, knowing all too well why she felt that way.

"What about me, doll? I'm your best friend and I'm a boy," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

She giggled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "No, not like that. I'm never dating a boy, never ever."

"That's a relief," James said, trying to keep things light.

Cecelia nodded, a determined look on her face. "I'm gonna stay with you forever and ever and ever."

James paused, his heart swelling at her words. For a moment, he just stared at her, the vulnerability in her voice breaking his heart.

"What if you get sick of me?" he asked with a teasing smile.

"I'll never get sick of you, James," she declared with a certainty that made him smile.

The minutes passed quietly as James focused on cutting her hair. He was surprisingly good at it, memories of cutting Becky's hair surfacing as his hands moved instinctively.

"You did a good job," Cecelia finally said, looking at herself in the mirror. For the first time in a long time, she smiled at her reflection. James couldn't help but smile too.

"See? Told you I knew what I was doing," he said, ruffling her newly shortened hair.

"Thanks, James," Cecelia whispered, her voice barely audible. For a moment, she looked like any other little girl, not the haunted soul he had found and saved.

And for James, that was everything.

A/N:

😗😗😗😗😗

hey y'all