""Ah, here it is," Edward said after a few minutes of digging around in a musty locker. He pulled out a white plastic box. He set it on the bench and sat down, with a leg over either side of the bench.

Annabelle sat with her legs crossed facing Edward. He took her finger yet again and opened the box, rummaging for a finger splint. He found a bright pink one and watched as Annabelle stuck a finger down her throat and pretended to vomit.

"Sorry about the color," he said. "And this is going to hurt… a lot."

Annabelle nodded and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the unavoidable. Edward put the splint down and held her finger on either side of the bump and counted.

"One… two… three," He pulled hard on the finger and let go. The bone snapped back into place. Annabelle gasped and started to breathe heavily, swallowing a scream. "Are you okay?" Edward asked, looking up at her face. Her eyes were closed and her frown had turned into pursed lips in a straight line.

"Yeah. It's just that it feels like my finger was just run over by a semi carrying a wide load of cement sixteen times. Scratch that… seventeen times," she answered though her teeth, trying to control her breathing.

She didn't move the whole time Edward put her finger in the splint. She didn't even open her eyes.

"Do you feel sick?" he asked. She didn't answer in time before she passed out and collapsed onto the floor.

"Annabelle! You scared me!" She was pulled from her laying position on the bench into a hug against Edward's chest. Strangely, it was comforting to her. It would be kinda awkward to be hugged by your coach like that, but at the moment, she didn't think so.

"Breathing is important to me, you know."

"Oh, sorry. I'm just so relieved," Edward said, releasing her, just to pull her back into a gentler hug. Annabelle slowly raised an arm and patted his back, waiting for him to stop.

"You need to get home to your parents and tell them what happened," he said after letting her go and sitting in silence for a while. Annabelle looked away from Edward.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I have of shortage in parents at the moment."

"Divorce?"

"I… I don't really know," she whispered. Edward laid a hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off.

"I don't quite follow," he said.

"My… my parents dumped me at my relatives' house seven years ago. They've let me leave and live on my own. I have a job at a local music store that pays well, and I sold some belongings, so I've managed to scrounge up enough money for common necessities, and I own some clothes and bags and stuff. Now, I live in an abandoned apartment. They forgot to shut off the water, though, so it's livable. Please don't tell anyone. I don't want to go back to my family."

Edward seemed to think for a moment. No, no, bad idea, he thought, but he said it anyway.

"Come live with me, then."

Annabelle's face fell. She had known him for about five months, so it's not like she didn't trust him, but she was too troublesome to deal with. At least in her eye she was.

"Come on. You'll have your own room. I'll respect your privacy, I swear."

"I don't want to be a bother. I'll be fine. I've almost adapted to my living conditions, anyhow," she protested.

"It'll be fine. I've got enough money. You shouldn't live alone. It's too dangerous for a girl your age, Annabelle."

"You look too young to live in your own house, too."

"I'm seventeen and you're, what? Thirteen? You're living on your own. Besides, my parents bought the house for me and they trust me. I have sisters who can visit, so you won't be the only girl all the time, either."

"I can't go now, anyways. I have stuff to pack."

"Then let's go. I'll help you."