Once she heard the slam of the bedroom door, she quietly slipped out of bed. She tiptoed over to her dresser, and shook the doors as softly as she could, as to not arouse suspicion. Not wanting to turn on any lights, she blindly searched for a pair of socks, and wandered around the room looking for her shoes. Once she had found them she grabbed her ratty old sweatshirt and tossed it over head. She inched over to the window, hoping the creaky boards beneath her feet would not give away her plan tonight. Curling the wood under her fingers, she gently lifted the sliding window and crawled down, thanks to the step ladder she had depended on so often. Her feet hit the ground and she looked up at the pale yellow house next to her, hoping the dim light of his bedroom would be on. As always, the tiny light tucked away in the back of the old Victorian house secured her freedom for yet another night. Turning back to her own house, she saw no signs of any lights, relieved that her sneaking around hadn't woken anyone up, and a particular someone hadn't gotten angry again.

She felt the dewy grass stick to her tattered gym shoes as she walked across the slick lawn towards the house. She found the familiar rusty ladder that leaned against the paneling, and shifted it so it was directly in line with the faint light of the window. The cool summer night breeze penetrated her skin as she made her way up the ladder. She pulled herself through the open window, a similar style to that of her own home. The boy she had become so familiar with in the past couple of years was sitting on his bed, reading a car magazine. He looked up at her, relieved yet worried to see her standing there.

"It's been a couple days," he said softly. He scooted to the end of the bed until his elbows were resting on his knees. "I thought it was getting better."

She shrugged her shoulders and scratched her arm absentmindedly, trying to avoid his confrontation. "It is," she said simply. He tilted his head and got a good look at her, seeing it in her eyes that she was lying.

"Is that why your arms are that color again?"

The girl rolled her eyes and sniffed, not wanting to get into an argument with him, after an already rough night. Her deep brown eyes moved to her arms, her lashes trying furiously to bat the tears. She wasn't afraid to cry in front of him, but she told him it was getting better. The truth was she knew it was far from getting better. It was almost over.

"I just have to stay out of his way."

He shook his head. "You haven't been doing a very good job of that."

He got up and pulled out a sleeping bag and extra pillow from the closet, and set them on the floor. She pulled her hair down from a messy bun and massaged her temples. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.

"I'm working on it," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"You need to tell someone."

"I told you, didn't I?" she said bluntly, releasing a breath she had been holding the entire night. She hadn't meant to be so short with him. After all, he had been there for her almost every time she needed him, and she couldn't go off on him like that. She would be just like him then. "I'm sorry, I know that you care, I just-"

"No, it's fine. I'm just worried about you," he said gazing into her eyes.

Her dear friend unzipped the sleeping bag and arranged it on the floor, right next to his bed. She looked at him sympathetically and frowned.

"You don't always have to sleep on the floor, you know."

He smirked.

"Nah, it's alright. I get used to it," he fluffed his pillow and leaned it against his nightstand. "Besides, if I sleep in the bed, where will you sleep?"

She smiled shyly, her eyes looking towards the floor as she calmly answered his question.

"With you." she whispered softly, her eyes ascending onto his bewildered pupils.

It was more of a question than a statement. She always thought she wore out her welcome. But almost every night here she came trudging into his room, stealing his comforter and rocking herself to sleep in his rocking chair, and more recently his comfy bed. He had taken refuge on the floor without any complaints, thankful that his friend was comfortable for the night.

They had been friends for almost five years, and for the past two years they had been closer than ever. Her mother had remarried a man who seemed to be alright for the first couple of months, but after many financial issues rifts began to cause problems between her mother and her stepfather, and he himself had often took out his anger on his stepdaughter. She would make excuses for everything that had happened, only blaming herself for her hardships.

He flicked the light off and the soft hum of the fan filled the room, and he crawled into bed beside his best friend. He turned to face the wall, and moved his body to the edge of the bed, to give her the most room. She felt him struggling to get comfortable, and breathed heavily.

"Hey Troy?" she murmured softly in the darkness, scrunching up the bit of comforter to her chest. "Do you think you can do something for me?" she asked sleepily.

He turned to her side of the bed. "Anything you want."

"Can you just….hold me?"

Troy obliged to her request and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, as she fit snug into his chest. She allowed herself to inhale his scent that was so comforting and warm, a safe she hadn't felt in a long time.

After a few short minutes she had drifted off to sleep, her kitten like snores in rhythm to the movement of the fan, and Troy had whispered, "Goodnight Gabriella," before drifting off to sleep himself.

The next morning he awoke to find Gabriella gone, as he did most mornings when she stayed over. Her biological clock was set to rise before dawn, and she always awoke before he did, leaving no sign that she had ever visited. Her side of the bed was always made, a chore she had picked up when she was younger. She always insisted on leaving a place as she found it, which was normally messy, but felt as if she was imposing if she didn't clean up after herself. He always wished that she could stay longer, but given the circumstances their arrangement wouldn't work much longer if anyone every found out that she visited late at night. These nights were quite common for the two, each similar and different in their own ways, but still equally special in their hearts. They would talk for hours, and Troy would always ask how she was, and inquire about her night even if he knew what the answer would be. They had an unbreakable bond that even the simplest fights couldn't break.

He stumbled out of bed and walked over to his dresser when flashing lights curved his attention. Troy pushed aside his curtains and gazed out the window to find the flashing red and blue lights commonly found on police cars surrounding Gabriella's house. One cop dressed in black polyester was talking on a walkie talkie while He could see countless other policemen inside the home, scavenging for whatever evidence they were trying to find.

He didn't see Gabriella anywhere.