Chapter 21 | Three Strikes And He Is Out

“Damaged people are dangerous because they know how to survive.” — Damaged

The next morning, I wake up hearing birds outside of Graham’s bedroom window, happily chirping as if everything is just okay and good in the world, when in fact, not a single thing is okay or good in the world right now.

I try to block out the chirping so that I can fall back asleep—not because I’m still sleepy, but because I know that if I’m awake, I’ll have to deal with all that happened last night. My brain has other ideas though, because no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get myself to fall asleep.

After a whole five minutes of trying to no avail to fall back asleep, I give up with a small sigh. Then I roll over in Graham’s bed and blindly reach over to him, trying to find him so that I can cuddle up to him and hopefully fall back asleep.

I don’t feel him beside me though, which is weird, because he’s a pretty late sleeper, Graham is. I peel my eyes open then and groan quietly as the terribly bright and bothersome sunlight floods in the room through the slightly parted curtains, shining right on me.

With a tired sigh, I sit up in Graham’s king-sized bed and run my fingers through my messy hair, wincing as a sharp pain sears through my cranium and I feel a major migraine coming on. Glancing over at the digital clock on Graham’s bedside table, I see that it’s already 11:00, and that’s when it dawns on me that today is Tuesday, and that I’m supposed to be at school right now, not in boyfriend’s bed.

I guess that’s where Graham could have gone, to school, but I don’t really think that he’d just leave me here all day and go to school. Especially not after I came over to his last night, a panicked, bawling, and hyperventilating mess. Wherever Graham is though, I hope that he comes back soon because I know that if I’m alone for too long, my mind is going to start wandering. More specifically, it’ll start wandering to last night.

I guess my mind takes that a sign though, because just at the thought of last night, the painful flashbacks start plaguing my brain, without my consent. Flynn kissing me. Flynn basically trying to force me into having sex with him again. The disgustingly pungent smell of the alcohol on his breath. Everything. It all starts flooding my head and because I’m such an overdramatic crybaby, I just can’t handle it. My breath starts to quicken and my pulse beings to race as I feel a panic attack on the rise.

I curl myself up in a little ball, and wrap my arms around my knees, trying to calm down. I rest my chin on top of my knees and slowly start rocking back and forth. I probably look like a crazy person right now, but I don’t care because Dr. Fontana told me that this is one thing that I should do if I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack and I don’t have my medicine with me.

Ever since my little overdose episode though, my mom doesn’t trust me to keep my medicine. She keeps it like, in her purse or something, and whenever I need them, she just gives them to me. She literally watches me swallow them and it’s incredibly weird and awkward, but oh well.

Dr. Fontana’s other advice to me was to try and go to my happy place—like, placing myself in a mentally happier situation. I don’t really have too many happy places though. The rocking back and forth thing works for the first couple of seconds, but just as I feel myself starting to relax a little bit, Flynn’s words from last night flood my memory, effectively exacerbating my panic attack.

“You’re even prettier now than you were at that party.”

“Why do you have to act like you don’t want it?”

“We had fun that night; we can have fun again.”

I hear the bedroom door open then, but I’m too busy freaking out and hysterically crying to look up and see who it is. But seeing as how this is Graham’s bedroom, I think it’s pretty safe to assume that it’s him. I seriously hate it when Graham sees me crying, because it’s just so terrible and embarrassing, and it kind of just makes me feel like a weak, little baby. And I really, really hate that feeling, but I can’t help but cry right now.

“Hey, Sawyer, hey it’s okay,” Graham tells me, sitting down beside me on his bed and then wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close. “You’re alright.”

“No, I’m really not alright,” I wail in disagreement, pressing my face into his chest. “I’m going to jail,” I matter-of-factly inform him, my words slightly muffled.

“You aren’t going to jail,” He assures me, rubbing up and down my back with one hand, trying to soothe me.

“I am,” I argue. “Assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder—they could charge me on either or both.”

“They’re not charging you with anything, sweetie,” Graham states. “Everything is gonna be just fine, I promise,” He swears, but I think he just wants me to not cry.

“But how do you know?” I query curiously with a small sniffle and a hiccup, looking up at him. I don’t know why they wouldn’t charge me—I mean, I stabbed a guy.

“Because I just do,” He explains simply. “You do trust me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm with a small nod, wiping a few tears away then.

“Then trust me when I say that it’s going to be okay and that if anyone goes to jail, it’s going to be Flynn, not you, okay?”

“Alright,” I agree with a nod, having calmed down a bit. Graham has that kind of effect on people, a calming one, I think.

“Good,” Graham replies, leaning down and kissing my forehead. “Okay, so I don’t want to freak you out, but I think that I’m going to have to take you home soon.”

“How come?” I ask, pulling myself away from him then. I obviously wouldn’t mind having Graham’s arms wrapped around me all day, it’s just that that’s when I notice that he isn’t wearing a shirt—he has one on last night though, so I don’t know why he’s not wearing one right now, but I’m definitely not complaining. Anyway, it’s just hard for me to concentrate on what he’s actually saying to me though, when his beautiful torso is just right there in plain view.

“Because I guess your brother figured you’d come over here last night, and he just keeps calling me, demanding to know what you’re doing,” Graham informs me then.

“That’s such a Beckett thing to do,” I mumble with a sigh, shaking my head. “Can I use your phone to call him back?” I ask, remembering that I left mine at my house.

“Sure,” He nods, pulling his iPhone out of the pocket of his gym shorts and handing it to me. “I’m just gonna give you some privacy and go wake Jackson up,” He says.

“He didn’t have school today?” I question, tapping in Beckett’s number.

“He did, but he tricked Tucker into letting him stay home today—like I said, the kid is sneaky,” He explains.

“Sneaky, but adorable,” I state matter-of-factly, because it’s the truth.

“I am telling you—the kid is only adorable when you’re around,” Graham informs me and I playfully roll my eyes at him because I just don’t think that that’s true at all.

“Whatever you say, Graham,” I appease him with a giggle as he walks out of the room and I hit the call button, putting the phone to my ear and waiting for an answer.

“Goddamn it, Cambridge, I’ve called you literally seventy-two times in the past twelve hours,” Beckett angrily answers the phone on the first ring “Where’s my sister?”

“Calm down, Beckett,” I murmur with an annoyed sigh. “And why would call someone seventy-two times? That’s weird, you know.”

“Sawyer, what the hell happened?” Beckett demands then and that’s how I know that he’s pissed, because he never swears at me.

“A whole bunch of stuff happened,” I mumble, trying to avoid answering the question.

“Yeah, no shit,” He scoffs. “I meant like, what exactly happened?” Beckett asks again.

“I will tell you every single thing just as soon as I get home, Beckett,” I swear to him.

“You better,” He mutters. “You’re at Graham’s house? Do I need to come pick you up?”

“No, I think that he’s going to bring me home in just a little while,” I respond. “So, what’s happening there exactly?” I ask him, picking up on a lot of background noise.

“Not much. There’s a lot of cops and detectives here though, but none of them are telling anyone what went down.”

“Are mom and Tom there?” I wonder.

“Mom is—she’s talking to Serena and Tyler,” He tells me. “No clue where dad is though.”

“Shocker,” I sarcastically snort. “Well, can you tell mom that I’ll be there in a little bit?”

Serena Jacobs and Tyler Wilson are our family lawyers, in case you’re wondering. They’re actually married, but Serena apparently refused to take Tyler’s last name—she’s really big on the whole feminism thing.

Anyway, my mom is really good friends with them, and they are two of the best lawyers in Massachusetts, so it makes sense that my mom called them. They’re pretty nice people, Tyler and Serena, and they’re the ones who represented me in court after the Flynn thing, when we tried to get charges pressed against him.

“I’ll tell her,” Beckett agrees. “So, you’re okay? Like, you aren’t hurt or anything?”

“I’m alright,” I tell my big brother—most of the time, his overprotectiveness annoys me, but right now, I don’t mind it much.

“Good,” He breathes a sigh of relief. “Wait a minute, so you’re at Graham’s house, right? That means you stayed the night?”

“Yes, Beckett, obviously,” I respond, rolling my eyes as I feel one of his stupid big brother lectures coming on.

“Well, where did you sleep?” Beckett wonders then.

“Pardon?” I ask, even though I heard him just fine.

“I mean, I know that you guys didn’t sleep in the same bed, because if you did, I would have to kill Cambridge—so where’d you sleep?”

“Goodbye, Beckett,” I scoff before hanging up on my idiotic brother in an attempt to get out of answering his incredibly dumb question.

I think that it’s pretty obvious that Graham and I did sleep in the same bed last night, but I wasn’t just going to admit that to my weirdly overprotective older brother. Speaking of which, it wasn’t anywhere near as awkward as I thought it was going to be, sleeping in the same bed with Graham.

I mean, I’ve never actually slept in a bed with another guy, so I thought that it’d be weird, especially because I’m just so grossly awkward. It was pretty okay though, and we cuddled a lot, which was nice.

If you’re wondering though, after I showed up here at Graham’s last night in tears and hysterics, I told him everything that happened. From Flynn basically breaking in my house, to his incredibly weird and creepy sexual advances (Graham got really pissed when I told him about those, and the fact that Flynn kissed me, which makes a lot of sense, I think) and finally to the part where I stabbed him. I think that that part really surprised him too, the part that I, his crybaby girlfriend, stabbed a person.

Anyway, by the time I was finished telling him what happened, I was crying again and hyperventilating and just kind of having a major freak out. I mean, it was really, really bad. So bad, in fact, that Graham wanted to call Dr. Fontana, but I eventually convinced him not to.

I mean, do you know what would have happened if Graham had called my psychiatrist in the wee hours of the night, telling him that I was basically losing my mind? I’ll tell you what would have happened: I would have woken up back in the psychiatric ward, and that’s the last thing I wanted to have happened.

The reason I was freaking out wasn’t because of the fact that I was in shock over having stabbed Flynn, that’s for sure. I was freaking out because I was about 100% sure that Flynn had already told the police that I had tried to kill him or something and that they were on some sort of manhunt for me. It sounds a little bit dramatic, yes, but I was pretty dazed and confused—and not in a good way—so I think that it was a totally justifiable though.

After a bunch of soothing words though, and the constant assurances that I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life in a women’s penitentiary Graham finally got me to calm down and my panic attack eventually blew over. Once that was all over, Graham and I just laid here in his bed together for a while before we finally fell asleep.

As much as I would love to crawl back under the covers and count sheep until I fall back asleep, I know that I can’t. Well, I guess I could, but I just don’t think that I should. I’m going to have to go home and I’m going to have to deal with the police, and the detectives, and my mother and even though I really don’t want to have to deal with any of those people right now, it’s sort of inevitable. I figure it’s better to get it over with now, so I get up from the bed and make my way to the bathroom.

After I use the bathroom and wash my hands, I find an unopened toothbrush in the cabinet and decide that if I’m going to have to spend my entire day recounting the story from last night to a bunch of detectives and lawyers and policemen, I might as well have fresh breath while doing so.

The toothbrush is still encased in the plastic wrap that they come in when you first buy it, which is how I know that it hasn’t been used and I’m pretty sure that Graham won’t care if I use it. So, I take the plastic off and put some toothpaste on the toothbrush and then brush my teeth.

When I’m done, I leave the bathroom and head downstairs, silently hoping that Tucker isn’t here. Don’t get me wrong, I like Tucker and all, because from what I can tell, he’s a pretty nice guy. I just hope that he’s not here though, or at least, I hope he’s still asleep, because I’m wearing a pair of really short shorts and a big t-shirt, and I’m sure it’d look pretty suggestive. He’d probably make a sex joke or something, and it would just be really, really awkward, you know, for very obvious reasons.

The way that Graham’s house is set up is so that when you come downstairs, you walk down a short little hallway, and then you’re in the kitchen, so that’s the path I take. When I walk into the kitchen, I see Graham and Jackson sitting at the table, but I don’t think that either of them hear me come in, because they’re arguing. Well, they’re not actually arguing, I don’t think. By the looks of it, it seems like Jackson wants something and Graham is telling him ‘no’, and Jackson’s upset happy about it.

“Graham, I want blueberry muffins!” Jackson loudly exclaims with a cute little pout, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, I can’t make blueberry muffins, so do you want the macaroni and cheese or not?” Graham asks his little brother.

“Not,” He huffs in response. “Cassidy can make blueberry muffins,” Jackson adds.

“Well, Cassidy’s in culinary school—she’s supposed to know how to make muffins.”

“What’s culinary school?” Jackson asks then.

“It’s where you learn how to cook, basically.”

“Well, I think that you should go to culinary school then,” He informs Graham.

“You’re just five years old, but you’re so dramatic, and I just don’t know how.”

“I don’t know what that word means,” Jackson admits, climbing down out of his chair. “But can I have a cookie? Please?”

“Cookie,” Graham agrees then. “You can have one cookie,” He tells his brother, holding up his index finger for emphasis.

“Okay,” Jackson chirps before running over to the kitchen counter and grabbing the cookie jar from on top of it. He takes the top off and takes out about five cookies before putting the jar back where it goes and then running past me and into the living room. Graham was right—he is sneaky. He’s so adorable though, so it’s alright.

“You guys are seriously so adorable,” I tell Graham, walking over towards him and leaning my back against a counter.

“That kid is just too much sometimes,” Graham chuckles, shaking his head. “He seriously thinks that I didn’t see him take all of those cookies.”

“I know,” I laugh. “But if you ever need a babysitter, I’m your girl. But just so you know, you might not get him back.”

“I told you that you can have him,” He reminds me as I hand him back his iPhone. “He might be cute, but he’s very devious,” Graham insists.

“And you call him the dramatic one.”

“Because he is the dramatic one,” Graham defends. “What about you? Are you hungry? Because like I said, macaroni and cheese it all I can make, but we have cereal.”

“No thanks,” I sigh, shaking my head as I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m alright—I don’t really have an appetite,” I say, which is true—I haven’t since last night.

“You? No appetite?” He incredulously echoes. “There’s three words I never thought I’d hear in the same sentence,” Graham tells me, but I know that he’s only kidding.

“Oh shut up,” I reply, playfully rolling my eyes at my incredibly adorable boyfriend.

“I’m just kidding,” He assures me with a chuckle. “So, you talked to your brother?”

“I did,” I confirm with a nod. “He is being very weird and overprotective as usual.”

“I’d expect nothing less from him,” Graham states, standing up from his chair and walking across the room, leaning beside me on the counter. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little, yeah,” I nod. “I’m still kind of mentally freaking out though. Beckett said that there’s a bunch of police there—what if they arrest me as soon as we get there?”

“Sweetheart,” He sighs, leaning up off of the counter and stepping in front of me, placing his hands on my waist and looking down at me. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“But it could,” I wail then.

“But it won’t,” He refutes.

“Do you really believe that or are you just trying to make me feel better?” I curiously ask, giving him a suspicious look.

“A little bit of both,” Graham admits with a sheepish grin before leaning down and lightly pressing his lips against mine.

Graham keeps trying to tell me that it’s all going to be just fine—that everything is going to be okay, and that I won’t spend the next few months or years even in jail and a part of me (the somewhat sensible part) is just having a really hard time buying that. I mean, I don’t think that they just let people who stab other people and leave them continue on with their everyday lives with no repercussions whatsoever.

If that was the case, then I’m slightly positive people would just be stabbing people left and right. Then there’s the other part of me (the painstakingly impractical part) that keeps trying to convince me that he’s right. I’d obviously love to believe that I won’t get in trouble, but I just can’t. I mean, I’m not lawyer or anything, and I’d like to think that I’m not a pessimist or anything, but I just don’t see this being alright.

However, all of my worries about my current situation kind of just slip my mind when I feel Graham’s tongue slip in my mouth. Although making out right now might seem a bit inappropriate, given what all has happened in the past twenty-four hours, it’s just really hard to say no to Graham, and it isn’t like I don’t wanna make out with him. So, I raise my arms up then and place my hands against his bare chest and he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

“Are you trying to distract me?” I mumble against Graham’s lips after a couple of minutes of slow making out.

I mean, intense make out sessions are fun too, of course, but his kid brother is literally just a couple of feet away from us. I’m pretty sure if he were to walk in on us in the midst of an intense make out session, he would be pretty scarred. At least, if I was his age and saw something like that, I would be. Granted, I’ve been told several times that I’m “overly dramatic,” which is so not true.

“Yes—is it working?” Graham murmurs before pulling his lips away from mine and ducking his head down, placing them against my neck.

He starts leaving a light trail of butterfly kisses down my neck then, with little flicks of his tongue. Before I can even attempt to stop it, a small moan escapes my mouth when I feel Graham lightly sucking on the skin as he grips my waist a little bit tighter with the hand that’s resting there.

I think that he’s leaving a hickey or something, but since I’ve never had one, I can’t be for sure, but I’d imagine that it feels like this. If he is leaving one, I hope it won’t be too noticeable because I know for a fact that if it is, my brother will not only kill Graham, he will light fire to his corpse.

“Maybe a little bit,” I breathily reply, looping one of my arms around Graham’s neck and pulling his lips before to mine, immediately sliding my tongue in his mouth. I feel Graham grin against my lips then and I move my hand that’s exploring the planes of his muscly stomach down so that my fingers are barely tracing over his V line.

All of a sudden, Graham’s phone rings out incredibly loudly in his pocket, making us jump apart, since we obviously weren’t expecting it. I let out an annoyed sigh, because I already know that it’s probably just my brother, rushing for me to get home. Graham sends me an apologetic grin and pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking down at it and handing it to me.

“It’s for you,” He says.

“Of course it is,” I grumble, hitting the answer button and then putting the phone up to my ear. “Yes, Beckett?”

“Do you think you and Cambridge could maybe stop making out for like, two seconds, so you can come home?”

“Beckett, what are you even talking about? We’re literally like, right down the road,” I evasively lie to my big brother.

“Really, Sawyer? Are you really?” Beckett wonders skeptically and I can tell he doesn’t buy my story. 

“Yes, really,” I confirm. “And if you call again, I’m not answering,” I say to him. “I’ll see you soon,” I add, hanging up.

“You are an awful liar, you know,” Graham informs me matter-of-factly as I hand him back his phone.

“I know,” I sigh. “I should probably get back home soon though, before Beck like, bursts a blood vessel or something.”

“Yeah, I can see how that’d be problematic,” Graham chuckles. “Do you want some pants to wear?” He wonders, gesturing to my mostly bare legs.

“Please,” I nod then. “Actually, would you mind if I just took a shower? I just feel like, really grimy and gross after having Flynn touch me,” I state.

“I don’t mind—you can use the shower upstairs,” Graham replies. “The towels and stuff are in the cabinet,” He adds.

“Alright,” I respond with a small smile. “I’ll be done in a jiffy,” I say to him before making my way out of the kitchen and upstairs to the bathroom.

When I make it to the bathroom, I awkwardly get undressed, and then get in the shower, turning the water on. It’s a little bit weird, taking a shower at someone else’s house, I think, but I really do feel all gross and grimy after last night. The incredibly pungent smell of alcohol that radiated from Flynn is like, embedded into my shirt now, and it’s really gross and I just don’t wanna smell like it. 

It’s really sad though, because I like that shirt, and now I’m going to have to burn it. If you haven’t noticed by now, I like to burn stuff that reminds me of that asshole. Since I can’t actually take the literal Flynn Decker and throw him into a fiery pit, I like to take stuff that’s been tainted by him and burn them to ashes. That makes me sound a tad bit psychotic, I know, but I promise I’m not.

After about fifteen minutes, I get out of the shower and dry off with a fluffy, white towel from the cabinet. Since I obviously don’t have any spare clothes or anything like that here at Graham’s house, I was planning on just putting back on what I came here (although, I guess that’d kind of defeat the purpose of taking a shower). 

As I go to get redressed though, I see a pile of neatly folded clothes (they weren’t there when I came in here) sitting on the granite counter.

I figure that Graham just brought them in here or something, and that thought alone makes my face basically go up in flames in color. I mean, I’m pretty sure he didn’t see anything, because they’ve got one of those stainless steel showers, you know, with the door, but still. I wrap the towel around my dripping hair then and then unfold the clothes, looking at them.

There’s a pair of black yoga pants—I’m going to take a wild guess here and say that they’re Cassidy’s—and a blue t-shirt with some kind of Pink Floyd embellishment on it—I think it’s safe to say that this one belongs to Graham.

I quickly get dressed and then gather my shirt and shorts before taking the towel out of my hair and making my way back to Graham’s room. When I get in there, I see him sitting on the edge of his bed, peering down at his phone as his fingers fly over the screen.

“Sienna is a very relentless person, you know,” Graham tells me, glancing up at me.

“That’s her?” I wonder, dropping my clothes along with the towel into a basket in the corner that I assume is his dirty laundry basket.

“Yeah, she’s kind of freaking out about where you are and what happened,” He explains as I plop down beside him on his bed. “She’s at your house, apparently, and so is Piper.”

“Yeah, they’re very dramatic people,” I state simply, which is the truth.

“Yes, you have befriend very overly-dramatic people,” Graham laughs.

“Well, Sienna’s your friend too,” I remind him. “So, you’ve befriended overly-dramatic people as well.”

“This is true,” Graham nods in agreement, sending a text to Sienna and then putting the phone down.

“How did you guys even become friends?” I ask him then, realizing that I don’t even know how they know each other.

“Me and Sienna?” Graham wonders and when I nod in response, he says, “Well, whenever we were kids, our moms used to bring us to the same park playground thing. They didn’t even know each other at first, my mom and Sienna, which was the weird part about it. They both used to always bring us to the park every Saturday at around like, noon though, I think. Sienna’s mother brought Tommy and my mother brought Tucker, and since they’re around the same age, they hung out and stuff, and Sienna and I played together a lot. We mostly just like, got on the swing sets and stuff like that, then when school started, we found out that we had the same teacher, so I guess we became friends that way."

“That’s so adorable,” I laugh, imagining a child version of Graham on a swing set.

“You think everything is adorable, don’t you?” He teases, standing up and going over to his closet.

“Pretty much,” I confirm with a chirpy nod. “So, did you like, come in the bathroom while I was taking a shower?” I wonder, even though I’m already slightly sure it was him.

“I closed my eyes,” Graham insists with a light chuckle, pulling a shirt on from out of his closet.

“Really? Did you?” I query, giving my boyfriend an incredulous look as he hands me his letterman jacket.

“I really did,” He tells me with a nod before holding up three fingers. “Scout’s Honor,” He adds.

“I don’t believe you, but okay,” I giggle, slipping the letterman on. After the camping trip, I ended giving up back to him, but now that I have it again, he’s not getting it back.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t believe me,” Graham replies with a mischievous grin.

“You are an awful person, I hope you know that,” I tell him, standing up and buttoning the letterman up.

“Yes, but you like me anyway,” He matter-of-factly responds, grabbing his car keys and pulling on a pair of shoes. “Oh, and basically the only shoes in Cassidy’s closet were Uggs, so I got you some, but I’m warning you now—she treats her Uggs like they’re here babies, so maybe don’t mention that you have them,” Graham advises, gesturing the Uggs in the corner.

“I can do that,” I chime, walking over to them and slipping them on.

“Okay, good—so you ready to go now?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” I sigh.

“Don’t sound so dejected—like I said, everything is going to be fine.”

“I sure hope so,” I sigh again, looping my arm through his as we head down the stairs and into the living room together.

“Come on, buddy, let’s go,” Graham says to his brother, who is sitting on the floor in front of the TV, watching Power Rangers.

“Where are we going?” Jackson wonders, giving his brother an annoyed look. “I’m watching Powers Rangers—I’ve never seen this one.”

“Well, that’s why we have DVR—just record it,” He replies. “And you’re going to school and Sawyer and I are going to her house,” He says.

“But I don’t want to go to school,” Jackson wails before grabbing the remote and hitting the record button and then turning the television off.

“Well, I’m sorry, buddy, but you have to go to school. I mean, I really don’t see why you’re complaining—you’re in kindergarten, you know.”

“Okay, kindergarten is hard, Graham,” Jackson huffs, grabbing his adorable little Spiderman hoodie from Graham and then slipping it over his head.

“Twelfth grade is hard, Jackson,” Graham laughs. “But you don’t see me complaining about it,” He adds as the three of us walk out of the house and to Graham’s car.

Aspen’s car is parked on the street, seeing as how I did drive it here last night, and I guess it’d make sense from Graham to drive his car and for me to drive Aspen’s, but I think Beckett will probably just bring her to come and pick it up later.

Like I said, Aspen’s car is a lot different from mine, so I don’t really like driving it anyway. Speaking of cars, I am seriously starting to get a little bit pissed off about mine. I don’t know what Tom’s got going, but I knew my mom should have just let me take it to the shop instead of that demon.

“How come you guys get to skip school and I don’t?” Jackson wonders from the backseat as Graham starts the car and pulls out of the driveway.

“Because that’s just how life works, bud,” Graham simply states.

“But do I really have to go to school?” He asks hopefully. I don’t know why he hates school so much—I loved school up until it got too be too hard, which was in like, ninth grade.

“Yes, J, you really do,” He responds. “I know that you hate school, and believe me, man, I get it, but I can’t just leave you all alone at home.”

“But I won’t be alone,” Jackson says. “Bono is there,” He adds.

“Bono is a dog, Jackson,” Graham laughs. “He doesn’t really count.”

“Well, why can’t I just go to Sawyer’s house with you guys?”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Graham asks me with a dramatic sigh.

“You live a very, very hard life,” I sarcastically reply with a giggle.

“I really do,” He agrees. “It’s just not the bed place for a kid to be right now, bud, that’s why you can’t go.”

“That’s not fair, Graham,” Jackson groans. “You’re a kid, but you’re going.”

“I’m not a kid,” Graham scoffs. “I’m turning eighteen in a week, you know.”

“So, that means you’re gonna be a kid for a week,” He concludes. “Can I go? Please, can I?” He pleads then.

“Okay, Jackson,” Graham sighs, apparently tired of the banter. “You can come, but you’re going to school every day for the rest of this month,” He informs him then.

“But what if I get sick?”

“Just drink some orange juice.”

“I told you I don’t like orange juice,” He replies. “It’s gross.”

“Well, then, just try your very best not to get sick, alright?”

“Okay,” Jackson nods. “Can I see your phone?” He wonders.

“If you promise you’re gonna sit back for the rest of the ride and be quiet, then yes,” Graham agrees as we stop at a red light and he takes his phone out, handing it back to Jackson.

“I promise,” Jackson agrees, taking the phone from him then.

Shortly thereafter, we arrive at my house, since the distance between my house and Graham’s house isn’t really that significant. When we get there, Graham is forced to park on the street in front of my house, behind two other cars because that’s just how crowded the driveway is.

There’s Sienna’s, Beckett’s, my mom’s, and Tom’s (I guess he’s home now), cars parked in the driveway, then there’s Piper’s car, a police car, a shiny Mercedes Benz that I’m assuming belong to Serena and Tyler, and another car, a white one, that I’ve never seen before, but it looks pretty fancy, so I’m willing to bet that the apparent detectives drove over in it.

“You ready to do this?” Graham wonders, glancing over at me then.

“Yeah, I think so,” I nod, running my fingers through my hair and unbuckling my seatbelt.

I get out then and Graham and Jackson follow suit. Graham grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers, and then he scoops his brother up in his other arm and we make our way up to the front door. When we reach it, I remember that I don’t have my house key—it’s in the house. We have a spare—well, we had one, but when Sienna came over a few months ago to force me to go to Graham’s Halloween Party, I don’t think that she put it back in our very cliché under-the-mat hiding spot.

I’ve noticed that usually when people go to other people’s house though, they don’t lock the doors behind them, which is incredibly stupid and incredibly weird, I think. I’m willing to bet that with all the people that have probably been in and out of my house all morning, no one locked the door. So, I reach down and grab the knob, unsurprised when it twists and opens.

“Wait, before we go inside, can I ask you a question?” I ask Graham.

“Sure, anything,” Graham nods, putting his brother down on his feet.

“If I go to jail, are you going to break up with me?” I question and I think he thinks I’m kidding, but I’m not.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again: Sweetie, you’re not going to jail, okay? I promise you that. But if you do, which you won’t, I won’t break up with you,” Graham tells me.

“Do you promise?” I ask him then. I know that that probably sounds incredibly pathetic, but I don’t really care because my life is just full of not-so-great things and not-so-great people, but Graham is a pretty dang great person, and I really do like him so, so much, so I just need some kind of assurance that I’m not gonna lose him if they throw me in jail or something.

“I swear,” He replies, leaning forward and giving me a small, lingering kiss on the lips.

“Okay,” I reply with a small smile before stepping over the threshold and into my house, my hand still interlaced with Graham’s.

The three of us walk down the short hallway together, and when we reach the living room, I see Piper, Sienna, Aspen, and Beckett all sitting on the couch together with a different array of emotions on their faces.

Piper looks worried and annoyed, probably by all of the loud noise that sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. I assume it’s the detectives that are in there, or maybe it’s the police, but hopefully it’s the detectives.

Sienna looks tired and also worried, and I know that that’s because when Sienna is worried about something or someone, she kind of forgets to sleep. I mean, she doesn’t literally forget—she just chooses to stay up all night worrying instead of sleeping.

Then there’s Aspen, who looks close to tears and she also has a worried look on her face, which I understand, because like I said, she’s the biggest worrywart ever. That’s why she and Beckett work so well together, as a couple, because both of them are just so weirdly cautious and careful about everything.

Lastly, there’s my big brother, who has a couple of different emotions on his fact: anger, worry, guilt, annoyance, etc.

“Um, hey guys,” I awkwardly greet them, since apparently none of them heard me walk in here.

And like the extreme drama queens they are, Piper, Sienna, and Aspen all hurry over to me then, enveloping me in the middle of a group hug, telling me how worried they’ve been and stuff like that. Beckett comes over too, only he doesn’t hug me. He just stands there, looking Graham up and down as if Graham kidnapped me and is just now bringing me back home.

“Thanks for taking care of my sister, Cambridge,” Beckett finally says after creepily giving Graham a weird look for a few seconds.

“It was no problem, really,” Graham replies, shaking Beckett’s outstretched hand.

“Are you sure you’re okay, baby sister?” Beckett wonders then, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

“Yes, adult brother, I am sure I’m okay,” I assure Beckett for the umpteenth time as he pulls out of the hug.

“Then will you please tell us what happened? Because I’m seriously so confused, and the police aren’t talking,” Aspen states.

“I’ll tell you guys everything you want to know,” I assure my friends and my brother. “But what’s going on in the kitchen?” I wonder, hearing a loud crashing sound come from it.

“The detectives are in there—they’ve been here since 6 this morning.” Beckett tells me. “They’re scraping every piece of DNA evidence that they can find in the kitchen,” He adds.

“Of course they are,” I sigh, agitatedly, sitting down with Graham and Jackson on the loveseat while my friends and my brother reclaim their spots on the couch. “Okay, so I’ll just start from the beginning,” I inform them before them exactly what happened last night from start to finish, the exact same way that I told Graham.

I leave out the fact that Flynn kissed me though, because they don’t really need to know that. I didn’t even want to tell Graham that but I wouldn’t feel about lying to my boyfriend, especially when, as he pointed out, I’m an awful liar. When I’m done with the story, Beckett stands up from the couch and grabs his car keys.

“Beckett, where are you going?” I call after him before he actually leaves the room.

“I’m going to go murder this sick son of a bitch, that’s where I’m going,” He mutters. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of him thinking that he’s just going to keep hurting you and getting away with it. He got away with sexually assaulting you once, and I’m not letting him get away with this. I’m going to go find him, and I’m going to pound his face in,” Beckett explains.

“Beckett—” I start to say, about to try and talk some sense into him, but he raises his hand to stop me.

“No, Sawyer, don’t try to stop me. Look, you’re my baby sister and it’s my job to protect you,” He says.

“I love you for trying to protect me, Beckett, but don’t go looking for him. Let the police do their jobs.”

“The police are doing a shitty job,” He tells me. “They’re in there with the detectives right now, instead of arresting that sick bastard!”

“Maybe you should just take a walk or something,” I suggest, trying to calm him down. “Promise you won’t do something stupid, Beckett.”

“If you consider me smashing Flynn’s skull in with a crowbar ‘something stupid’, then I’m sorry, but I can’t make that promise,” He tells me before angrily storming out of the room.

“I’ll go after him,” Aspen says, getting up from the couch and running out of the room after my brother.

She knows Beckett well enough to know that he doesn’t need to be alone right now. Especially not in the mindset that he’s in. She knows about as well as I do that Beckett is a delightful person, when he’s not angry.

But when he’s mad, he’s like a totally different person. It takes a lot to piss him off, but once it’s done, the unfortunate person that pissed him off had better run for the hills.

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he’s incredibly protective of me and he hates Flynn just about as much as I do, if not more, so if Aspen can’t stop him, this is going to be a very, very bad day indeed. In fact, it’s going to be so bad that my mom will most likely have two kids in jail before it’s all said and done.

“Oh my god,” Sienna suddenly cries after Aspen runs out of the room. She has a mortified look on her face and she looks like she just saw a ghost.

“What is it, Sienna? What’s wrong?” I ask, giving my friend a concerned look.

“T-this is all my fault,” She says. “Everything. It’s all my fault,” Sienna states.

“What are you even talking about? Of course it’s not your fault,” I assure her.

“It is,” Sienna insists, running her fingers through her hair. “If I had just locked the door when I left, Flynn wouldn’t have been able to get in here.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” I tell her. “We both know how psychotic Flynn is. Even if the door was locked—he’d have found another way in.”

“God, I’m such an idiot!” Sienna exclaims, obviously not listening to me. Obviously, I don’t think any of this was her fault—I’m the one that stabbed the guy.

“Sienna, you’re not an idiot,” Graham speaks up. “Okay, you didn’t lock the door—so what? You didn’t make Flynn come in here—he did that all on his own.”

“Yeah, but—” She starts, but Graham cuts her off.

“No buts,” Graham tells Sienna then, shaking his head. “No buts because I am right and you are wrong and there’s nothing that you can say to change that.”

Sienna looks like she’s about to say something else, but before she has the chance to, my mom walks into the room. “Oh baby!” She exclaims when she sees me, hurrying over to me and throwing her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. “Thank God you’re back—I was so worried,” She sighs, pushing my hair away from my face and kissing my forehead. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay. Are you hurt? Do you need to go and see a doctor? What even happened? Oh, I have so many questions.”

“I’m okay, mom, I promise,” I tell her. “I don’t need a doctor, and basically the short version is that Flynn basically broke in last night, said a bunch of stuff to me, and I stabbed him.”

“S-stabbed him?” She repeats, her eyes bulging wide, practically popping out of her skull. “What on earth did you stab him with?”

“One of those really sharp knives in the kitchen,” I awkwardly answer her. “You know, the kind that you never use for anything.”

“You said he said a bunch of stuff to you,” My mom says. “What kind of stuff?”

“You know…just stuff, mom,” I mumble, being purposely vague because I don’t want to repeat that stuff. Especially not while my boyfriend is sitting right here beside me.

“Stuff like what, Sawyer?” She urges. “I’m your mother—you can tell me anything.”

“Well, he kissed me,” I tell her, avoiding eye contact with her by staring up at the ceiling. “And he basically said that he wanted to…you know.”

“No, Sawyer, I don’t know,” My mother denies. “He said he wanted to what?”

“Mom, please don’t make me say it,” I wail, blushing in completely embarrassment.

“If you can’t tell me exactly what happened, we’re never going to be able to take him down in court.”

“He said he wanted to have sex with me again, okay? That’s what he said, mother,” I mumble with a loud and very dramatic sigh.

“You know what? Sienna, Piper, it was so sweet of you to come by, but I think that it would be best if you girls went back to school. You can come back after school, if you’d like, but I just think that you girls should probably head back to school,” My mother randomly informs my friends.

“Yeah, okay,” Piper replies, clearly confused by the sudden topic change. “Yeah, um, we’ll be back after school then,” She says, standing up and leaving the room with Sienna in tow.

“Why’d you kick them out?” I wonder, raising my eyebrows in confusion.

“Because I am very upset right now, and I think that I might explode, and I just don’t want your friends to see me like that, that’s all,” My mother replies, feigning a sweet tone. “Tyler and Serena are in the study, and they’re ready to start trying to build your case against Flynn, so they’re going to need to know the story. How about you go talk to them, and you can take Graham, if that’s what you want to do,” She goes on, speaking so fast that I can barely even catch the words she saying. “And who might this be?” She asks, looking at Jackson.

“I’m Jackson, and you’re Sawyer’s mommy,” Jackson states.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jackson,” My mom replies. “How would you like to go in Sawyer’s room upstairs and watch TV?”

“Can I watch Power Rangers?” He wonders.

“I don’t see why not,” My mother responds.

“Okay,” Jackson agrees, jumping off of Graham’s lap and following my mom upstairs.

“This is definitely not okay,” I mumble, dropping my head on Graham’s shoulder with another sigh.

“It could be a lot worse,” He assures me, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing the top of my head.

“No, I really don’t think that it could,” I mumble, even though I know that that’s not the truth. “Are you gonna come with me to talk to Tyler and Serena?”

“You could be in jail, but you’re not,” Graham replies, giving me a pointed look. “And yes, if you want me to come with you to talk to Tyler and Serena, I will.”

“You’re kind of an amazing boyfriend, you know,” I inform Graham with a small smile, standing up and reaching my hand down to him.

“Well, that’s just because you’re kind of an amazing girlfriend,” He replies, standing up and placing a small kiss on my lips.

When we get to the study—which is the room in the house I’ve been to the least amount of times in the past seventeen years—I close the door behind us and we sit at the table.

“It’s nice to see you again, Sawyer,” Tyler speaks first, extending his hand to me, and once I shake it, he offers it to Graham, who also shakes it.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Tyler,” I reply, even though it’s really nice. I mean, Tyler and Serena are super nice, but they’re lawyers—no one looks forward to seeing lawyers.

“And who is this?” Serena wonders, gesturing to Graham after she shakes my hand.

“Oh, right. Yeah, Serena and Tyler, this is my boyfriend, Graham. Graham, that’s Tyler and that’s Serena, our family lawyers,” I introduce them and then Serena shakes his hand.

“Will your mother be joining us?” Tyler wonders, typing something up on his MacBook.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. Well, not right now, anyway. She’s talking to the detectives.”

“Okay, well, first things first, we need to know what happened,” Serena tells me then, getting straight down to business.

So, I tell them the story. That’s the third time in less than twenty-four hours that I’ve had to tell the story and I’m really hoping and praying that I don’t have to do it anymore.

“Am I going to jail?” I ask Tyler as soon as I’m done telling the story.

“More than likely, you won’t serve any jail time,” Tyler tells me then.

“More than likely?” I echo. “What do you mean ‘more than likely’?”

“I can’t predict the future, Sawyer,” Tyler laughs. “Serena and I have been lawyers for a long time and we’ve only lost maybe two cases in our entire career—have some faith.”

“Okay,” I nod, finding Graham’s hand under the table and latching on to it. Like I said, Graham has a calming effect about him—I think that by holding his hand, I’ll calm down.

“Besides, William had no right to be in this house,” Serena states, referring to Flynn by his first name. “Especially not when you have a very strict, very detailed restraining order against him.”

“Yeah, and this isn’t the first time he’s broken the restraining order,” Graham informs them. “I just want him to pay for the pain and suffering he’s put my girlfriend through,” He explains then.

“Don’t worry—he will,” Serena assures Graham, closing her MacBook and grabbing a file folder, taking some papers out and looking at them.

“You said he grabbed you,” Tyler interjects. “Do you have any type of physical evidence of that? A bruise? A scratch? Something? Anything?”

“My wrists are kind of bruised up, but that’s about it,” I tell him, pushing the sleeves of Graham’s letterman up and showing my wrists to Tyler.

“Perfect,” He says, using a fancy looking camera to take a few snapshots of my wrists before he starts speedily typing something on his laptop.

“That proves the battery charge,” Serena tells me. “At least, we can try to make it prove battery. We can get a medical examiner in the courtroom to prove the bruises are new,” She explains.

“But how does that prove that they came from Flynn?” I wonder.

“Well, it doesn’t. It just proves that they’re bruises. We can have the medical examiner determine the cause though—being held by them too tightly. Surely, the judge can put two and two together.”

“So, you’re going to try to get him charged with battery?” Graham asks.

“Not just battery,” Tyler notes. “We also have a few witnesses that have seen Flynn blatantly break the restraining order—that falls under contempt of court, and I’m sure we can prove stalking too.”

“So, three charges? We’re trying to get him charged three times?” I ask.

“That’s the plan,” Serena nods. “It won’t be easy—especially not the stalking. Security cameras are everywhere though, not to mention the few eyewitnesses we’ve already gotten into contact with.”

“Wait, what eyewitnesses? Who have you guys talked to?” I curiously question.

“You’ll know soon enough,” Serena replies. “It’s too early to release names, but in due time, you’ll know. We still have a lot of research to do and there’s lot of evidence that has to be brought forth.”

“Okay, well, do either of you know Flynn’s current condition?” Graham wonders.

“Well, he’s not dead—we do know that,” Tyler tells us. “We contacted Mr. Decker’s parents earlier this morning though, and they told us that Flynn was in surgery.”

“Oh my gosh! What? Are you kidding?” I squeak, my eyes going wide. “S-surgery? I didn’t think he’d have to get surgery. Please don’t tell me I punctured something. Oh my gosh—is he going to die?”

“Try not to get yourself so worked up, Sawyer,” Serena advises. “You didn’t puncture anything. You did however shove that knife pretty deep into his stomach.”

“So, what exactly are you saying?” I ask, getting incredibly confused and flustered and I feel like I’m about to have a full blown anxiety attack.

“She’s saying that you didn’t puncture any vital organs, which is good,” Tyler tells me. “He just has quite a bit of internal bleeding,” He states.

“But that’s not good,” I wail. “That’s bad. Internal bleeding is very, very bad, yes?”

“Well, yes,—” Serena starts, but the sound of my hyperventilating blocks her words.

“Hey, Sawyer, it’s okay. Calm down, sweetie. Just breathe,” Graham coaxes, running his thumb across our interlaced fingers. “Just breathe.”

“Do you want to take a break?” Tyler asks me, handing the box of Kleenex that my mom apparently keeps in here.

“No,” I deny, shaking my head. “I just want to hurry and get this over with,” I wail, quickly wiping away my stupid tears with a few Kleenexes.

“Okay, well, we’re going to have to be talking to each other quite a bit for the next few weeks or so though, just so you know,” Serena tells me.

“Yeah, we’re going to be around for a little bit. Don’t you worry though, Sawyer,” He says. “We’re going to build you the perfect self-defense case.”

“How are you planning to do that?” I wonder, feeling a throbbing migraine coming on.

“Well, you’re the seventeen year old girl, who goes to school makes good grades, and never gets in trouble. I mean, literally, never—we couldn’t even find a parking ticket on you. You have a good head on your shoulder, Sawyer. Now, take William. He’s the twenty-one year old guy, who was accepted at the prestigious Brown University, but had his acceptance rescinded after he allegedly attacked a minor—that minor being you—that’s strike one. His daddy is the freaking district attorney—that’s not going to resonate well with the judge at all, Judge Bowman hates when family represents family—that’s strike two. He’s been arrested a total of six times in the past three years for underage drinking, DUI, and battery—that’s strike three. Three strikes and he is out and we are going to win this Sawyer, I know it.”

✿✿✿✿✿✿

“Do you think that you’ll be up for going to school tomorrow?” Graham asks me a few hours later as we’re laying across my bed together.

“No, probably not,” I truthfully reply, readjusting my position so that my head is now resting on his chest, instead of his bicep.

“I can stay here with you, you know, if you want me to,” He offers.

“That’s sweet of you, but you’re a senior, you know,” I remind him.

“What’s your point?” He asks me with a light laugh.

“You have to go to class, or you won’t graduate.”

“Don’t you worry about me, sweetie—I’m gonna graduate,” Graham assures me.

“Okay then,” I give in, kissing his cheek. “If you’re offering, I’d love for you to stay.”

“Then I’ll stay,” He assures me with a grin. Obviously, he means he’ll stay here with me tomorrow, not tonight. My mother would definitely not go for that—she’s not one of those kind of parents at all.

It’s almost midnight by now, I think, but Graham’s still here, because I asked him to stay with me until I fell asleep. Like I said, I just don’t really like being alone for too long. My thoughts definitely know how to get the best of me. My mom knows he’s here, and she says that it’s okay, as long as he’s not spending the night.

I think that she’s just trying to be extra nice because she knows how hard a time I’ve been having lately. I think that Graham will probably end up staying the night anyway—I’ll just tell my mom that he just so happened to fall asleep and he was too tired to drive himself back home.

Jackson was here, but when Tucker got off of work a few hours ago, he came and got him, since he has to go to school tomorrow. He was very upset about that, Jackson was. That kid just hates school.

On the bright side, Aspen managed to stop Beckett from using a crowbar to mash Flynn’s skull in. Apparently all she did was stand behind his car so that they only way he’d be able to get out of the driveway would be by running her over, which he obviously wouldn’t do.

She said that she took him to his favorite restaurant and they talked about it, and she got him to see that spending time in jail for beating Flynn to death just wasn’t worth it. They did egg his house though, at least, that’s what she told me. They’re incredibly childish people, Aspen and Beckett, but they do mean well, and I love them.

“I’m sorry,” I sigh all of a sudden.

“Sorry for what?” Graham asks me.

“Getting you involved in all of my problems—I know that I have a lot of them.”

“I don’t mind,” Graham assures me. “Your problems are my problems, because you’re my girlfriend, and I love you.”

“What did you just say?” I ask, sitting up in my bed and staring down at him. The light is out and the TV is off, so it’s really dark, but I can still kind of see him.

“I said ‘I don’t mind’,” He replies. “Don’t mind being involved in your problems.”

“No, I heard that part—I meant the part after that,” I tell him, rolling my eyes at him, because I know for a fact that he knows that’s not the part that I meant.

“The part where I said ‘your problems are my problems, because you’re my girlfriend’, is that that part you mean?” Graham asks.

“You are being such a jerk and I’m going to kick in your face, Graham Cambridge,” I inform him, even though I obviously really weird and just not necessary.

“Oooh, you meant the part after that,” Graham says, playing dumb. “Oh, yeah, I said that I love you,” He repeats.

“You do realize that we’ve been dating like, not that long at all, don’t you?”

“I realize that,” Graham nods, sitting up in the bed, turning the my lamp on. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you before we got together though,” He casually tells me, as if we’re talking about something stupid and trivial, like the weather. “I think that I’ve probably been in love with you ever since that night at my Halloween part when I saw you sitting all by yourself on that porch swing outside my house.”

“How do you even remember that?” I wonder. “That was like, months ago,” I say, trying to control my blush and failing miserably.

“It was only like, three months ago,” Graham chuckles. “It didn’t take me long to fall for you at all, Sawyer Jameson.”

“You really love me?”

“I really do,” He nods.

I consider saying it back, but wouldn’t that just be oh so cliché of me? I mean, Graham just told me that he’s been in love with me since like, Halloween, which means that he’s been pretty sure about his feeling for quite some time now. I, on the other hand, didn’t even know that I had a crush on him until a few weeks ago. I do like him though.

I mean, I really, really like him, but love? I’ve never been in love or anything even remotely close, so how am I even supposed to know what it feels like? Graham says that he’s been in love twice though, so I think that he would know, how it feels.

I decide then that I don’t want to be one of those people who says something, but doesn’t mean it. I’m a 100% sure Graham didn’t tell me that he loves me just now because he wants me to say it back. I am fairly positive that he must have just wanted to tell me.

So, I make a promise to myself then that I won’t tell Graham that I love him until I’m a 150% sure that I do love him. Graham Cambridge is pretty perfect though, even if he doesn’t think he is, so I’m pretty sure I’ll be saying it back to him pretty soon. Not soon as in like, tomorrow or the day after, but soon.

“What’re you thinking?” Graham wonders, giving me a curious look.

“I’m thinking that I’m incredibly lucky to have such a perfect boyfriend like you, that’s what I’m thinking,” I tell him, leaning forward and pressing my lips against his.

Author's Note:

1. This chapter is dedicated to GraviesPen because I loved her comment on Chapter 20 the most. If you didn't see it, it was basically a bunch of story about the story, but it was written to the tune of Fancy, by Iggy Azalea, and I'm in love with that song at the moment, so yeah. <3

2. Notice the picture, which I thought was super adorable, and the song- Boom Clap by Charli XCX, which is another one of my favorite songs at the moment, and it's pretty cute for Grawyer, no?

3. Thoughts on this chapter or any of the characters? Predictions for the next chapter?

So, I wrote up a whole really long author's note, saying that I was going to go on hiatus for a month, but then I wrote this chapter and I decided that I'm gonna keep going. Just thought you should know that I seriously considered doing one, but I decided not to leave just yet. So, I'll see you guys next Monday, promise <3