"𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐋?"

James's voice broke through the quiet of the living room, but Cecelia didn't seem to notice. She was hunched over her journal, scribbling words down onto the paper, her left hand smudged with blue ink from the ballpoint pen she dragged across the page.

Writing was one of the only things that calmed her, even though being left-handed frustrated her. No matter how careful she was, her hand always picked up smudges, staining the side of her palm.

When she didn't respond, James said her name again, a little louder this time. Not to scare her, just to get her attention. "Cecelia."

She didn't look up, but she quit gnawing at her bottom lip. "Huh?"

James sighed quietly and sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His expression was serious but not angry, though there was a heaviness in his eyes that made Cecelia nervous.

"Close that. I wanna talk to you," he said gently. His hands slightly guiding it shut for her.

Cecelia finally lifted her head, her blue eyes scanning his face for clues. She could tell right away that something was off. The tone of his voice and the way he was sitting so close—it made her stomach churn. She hesitated for a moment before slowly closing her journal fully, though her fingers lingered on the cover protectively.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked quietly, her voice small.

James shook his head quickly. "No, no, not at all. I just need to talk to you, okay?" He asked her.

She nodded, but her grip on the journal tightened. Her heart raced as she watched him reach out and gently take the notebook from her lap. Her face flushed red as he placed it on the coffee table.

"I, uh, read an entry of yours," he admitted, his voice soft but steady.

The words hit her like a brick, and she immediately stiffened. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and her small hands shot out to snatch the diary back. "Why would you do that? That's my private stuff! You can't just read it—"

"Cecelia," James interrupted firmly but not harshly. "I'm not mad at you—"

"Well, I'm mad at you! It's not yours!" she snapped, pulling the diary close to her chest. She quickly slid it under her thigh, as if that would keep it safe from him.

"Just listen, okay? Just listen to me right now," James said, his tone firmer this time. His calmness only made her more defensive.

Cecelia swallowed hard, her lip trembling as she saw the serious look on his face. It wasn't anger, but there was something so heavy in his expression that it made her want to cry. She blinked quickly, trying to push the tears back, but one escaped anyway, trailing down her cheek.

James leaned forward, his hands gently cupping her small face. "You are the most important thing to me, Ceil," he began, his voice steady but full of emotion.

Cecelia frowned, shaking her head quickly. "You're just saying that, James. I'm not stupid. You're trying to make me feel better." She sniffled, thinking he was lying.

Because how could anyone love her? She was a murderer. She was a cold blooded kid who had a mind of her own and she chose to do bad things with it. James didn't have a choice, she did. She was, or rather is a bad person.

That's how she sees it.

"No," he said firmly, his thumbs brushing away the tears from her cheeks. "I mean it. I love you. You're the most important person in my life, and nothing's ever going to change that." He raised his voice, trying to get her to listen to him. To get her to hear him out but it felt like he was talking to a wall as she shook her head, denying it. Seeing his words as some kind of false accusation.

"You don't love me," Cecelia shot back, her voice cracking as more tears fell. "You're lying! You're just saying it because you have to!" She saw his words as him pitying her. She was some charity case he had to deal with. She didn't wanna feel like that.

James shook his head, his grip on her face tightening just slightly, not to hurt her, but to keep her focused on his words. "Cecelia, listen to me. I'm not lying, okay? I love you. You're my girl, my best girl. I love you more than anything in the world." She placed her hands on his wrists, taking them from her face and dropping them as she shook her head.

Cecelia let out a small sob, her hands covering her face as the weight of his words pressed down on her. "No, you don't! You don't mean it! You don't love me! You're just saying that." She cried. Her eyes red and her face now flushed.

"Yes, I do," James said, his voice breaking just slightly. He pulled her hands away from her face and gently held them in his. "Cecelia, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I know you think I don't mean it, but I do. Every word."

She stared at him, her teary eyes filled with doubt. "Just stop! Okay! You don't mean it!" She yelled, hitting his hands away. "You're a liar!"

James sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I shouldn't have read through that entry. I was wrong. I just wanted to understand what was going on in your head, Ceil. That's all." She shook her head. "I want you to know that my life is better that you're here-"

"No it's not-"

"Yes, it is. It is. My life is meaningless without you, Doll. You know that?" He asked her as she sniffled. "I'm not lying to you, if I really didn't care about you I would've left you back there. I would've left you, but I didn't. Because you mean so much to me. You mean everything to me." She sniffled, wiping her eyes.

"Do you mean it?"

"I mean every word." She wiped her eyes again. "I love you, and I'll keep saying it until it goes through your head-" It was shocking when she jumped and hugged him. He hugged her back immediately, his arms wrapping around her tightly. His hand cupped the back of her head, his thumb rubbing back and forth to soothe her.

"I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, Doll. I won't do it again, I promise. But I need you to know that no matter what you write in there, no matter what you feel, it doesn't change how much I care about you. Okay?" She nodded her head, sniffling.

Cecelia sniffled, her lips quivering as she looked at him. "You mean it?" He nodded his head, moving a curl away from her face.

"I mean it," James said, his voice firm. "Every single word."

For a moment, she didn't say anything. Then, slowly, she nodded and leaned forward, burying her face in his chest. James wrapped his arms around her small frame, holding her tightly as she cried softly into his shirt.

"You're my Doll, Ceil," he whispered, stroking her hair gently. "Always."

"I love you," She said, wiping her eyes on his shirt.

"I love you so much more, Cecelia."