Anya, Open POV

"I'm trying to help you, Anya. You know that. Discipline is a good thing. You'll thank me one day." Owen's voice was calm, if not disinterested as he attempted to justify his actions for the second time this week. In his opinion, Owen had done nothing to need absolution. He was helping her, helping her better herself so she would succeed in the world. Or at least that's how he saw it.

Anya lowered her head in a nod, knowing better than to disagree, or god forbid, question him. Silently, she ran the back of her hand beneath her eyes, swiping at the few stray tears she could while his back was still turned to her.

It wasn't always like this.

Try as she might, and she did on a regular basis, Anya could rack her brain trying to pinpoint where she had gone wrong in her relationship to need obedience lessons from Owen, but she'd never figured it out so far. It was likely that if there truly was a reason, she'd never know it.

"I have to go, I'll see you at school tomorrow." Owen said in the same casual tone, unbothered by where the night had ended. He wouldn't even look at her this time. It was heavier than usual. Swiftly gathering his things, Owen brushed past Anya, planting a goodbye kiss on her lips, which she stiffly returned. "No, kiss me back." She swallowed hard, hoping her discretion was minute enough not to spur him on for a second wind. Angling her chin up towards him, Anya did as she was told, kissing Owen softly, trying to stay composed until he broke their contact. He did shortly, grunting an exit, leaving her bedroom door open as he slunk down the hallway.

Hearing the front door slam closed, and the glass panels shake in their frames, Anya took a tentative step forward, leaning into her door until it clicked shut, pressing her forehead to it until she could muster the courage to turn away from it. Eventually she did, slumping towards her bed, passing the mirror she didn't dare sneak a glance into, and slid under her sheets. Nobody would be home until the next afternoon, and Anya didn't even bother shutting the lights off. She didn't know if sleep would come in the dark.

Eli POV

Brrrrrrng.

Eli glanced up at the source of the offending bell, glowering in its direction. He'd had a long night, and the shrill reminder of the next seven hours in captivity was not a welcome one.

"Whoa, dude, you look like death warmed over, what up with that?" Turning his scowl to the instantly recognizable voice behind him, chiding, Eli gave Adam a closer look at the warmth. Pulling open his locker door, he gesture to a small calendar of the month, pointing to the date.

"April twenty third. I don't get it."

"That makes yesterday April twenty second." Eli retorted flatly. "Ring any bells?"

Brrrrrrng.

Eli growled at the painfully coincidentally timed second bell chiming through the campus.

"Oh." Adam whispered back, a ting of embarrassment both in his voice and washing across his cheeks. "I- sorry dude. You…okay?" Furrowing his brows uncomfortably, Adam fiddled with his hands for a nervous moment before leaning against the locked beside Eli. "The part about looking death, I didn't-"

"I'm fine." Eli snapped, whipping shut his locker, still facing it for a long moment.

"Okay…"

"Just drop it, yes?" He hissed, his eyebrows rising. Adam didn't respond this time.

The past two years have flown by at an unbelievable pace. Unbelievable that so much had happened, began, crashed and burned in those twenty four months. But on April twenty second, those months were no longer relevant. For a dragging, jolting twenty four hours, the past was not the past, and Eli was propelled into reliving every second of that fateful day. The fight. The sound of the rain rapping on the windshield of his hearse, so apt for the situation. The phone call he received an hour later. The ache never changed, nor would the guilt dissipate, probably ever. Reluctantly, he accepted that Julia's death was not a result of him directly. He hadn't been driving the car that hit her, he hadn't kicked her out in the rain, Hell, he hadn't wanted her to leave in the first place!

But she did leave, much more than the vehicle, and the sting was fresh each year.