Hey! Sorry this chapter took so long! I came down with a sinus infection (damn those allergies!). But here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

I don't own.

I'm surrounded by complete darkness. It's threatening but at the same time comforting. I want for it to continue, in a way. Eternal nothingness. It would be so nice to just stay here and not face the real world and all of it's horrors. I wonder if this is what death is like, just this nothing. If it is, I might commit suicide just to let it happen. I could live like this.

"Hello, Princess."

Fuck.

I look all around in the blackness until I see Mica walking toward me with his huge, lumbering body. He has a club in his hand and a gun holstered to his belt. He's giving me that smirk and I know that I'm soon going to really want to die.

He doesn't waste any time going straight for me, his club swinging. He lands a blow on my chest, a pain that radiates over my whole torso and causes my heart to go weak. I tumble to the ground. He pulls out his gun and aims it at my temple. Terror floods my systems. Is this really it? Is this how it's going to end? I squeeze my eyes tight and the gun goes off, loud and proud. In a second, it feels like my head just explodes—it might have—and I'm just in pure agony. I start to cry out to no one, just to stop it from killing me.

"Rosie-Roo, you've gotta get up for a few minutes."

I'm slowly dragged away from Mica and the blackness and the pain and brought back to the hospital room. It's clean and white and my mom's back (good) and I'm still sore but that's okay. I then register the fact that I haven't slept decently since I got here. The nightmares are becoming more vivid and scary. I take a breath and mutter, "I'm never going to get some sleep, am I?"

Mom looks nervous and I realize she probably doesn't understand what I'm talking about. I don't want for her to. The less she knows, the better. "I'm sorry, baby," she says. I feel like telling her she shouldn't apologize for anything because she's amazing; I'm the fuck-up in this situation. "But we've got to do it. It shouldn't be too much longer and then you'll be left alone, I promise." She gives me a kiss, near the spot where Mica shot me in my dream. Even though I know it wasn't intentional on her part, it still is comforting to have that reassurance that there's not really a bullet hole there. "Listen," she says, stepping back. "Everything's okay. Just go with it, alright? I'll explain everything later."

I nod and then notice an attractive woman Mom's age standing by. It's the same woman as before. She's holding this black contraption that I don't know the purpose of. It makes me edgy. What if it's a weapon? "Who's she?" I ask. "Do I have another aunt?" Is she friend or is she foe?

Mom chuckles, which relaxes me. Mom wouldn't be chuckling if this woman was out to hurt either one of us. "No—well, yes, you do, Sarah, Maria, and Rebekah—but this—this is Detective Olivia. She's going to be taking pictures of you, okay?"

I shrug. I don't understand what's going on, but if Mom's okay with it, I'm okay with it. Detective Olivia says she's going to start with my face. Start what? How is she going to 'take' a picture? I don't have any pictures with me, let alone of my face. She leans down, brushes my hair back a little, and holds up her black thing. A bright light comes off of it, almost like how a gun does when it fires off, and I flinch, expecting injury. However, I'm not injured. That was really weird.

I feel my mom squeeze my hand. I look up and see her mouth, 'It's okay'.

If you say so, Mom.

The next thirty minutes or so is filled with constant picture taking of every inch of my body, which, to be honest, feels incredibly invasive. I suck it up, though. I've got to. But I still can't not react to Detective Olivia touching me—it's just second nature to tense up. A primal reaction. Is that all I am now, some animal? Relying on instincts and reflexes in order to survive?

Eventually, she's done, standing back. I ease back in the bed, feeling safer once again. The little episode has left me tired once again. I look over at Mom—she's a borderline wreck, so I smile to try to calm her. I ask, "Sleep?"

I hear Mom whine just ever so quietly. "Detective Olivia," she asks, sounding tense. "Can we please hold back on the questions?" What questions? Why can't we go ahead and do them now, get them out of the way? "She's exhausted; you're probably not going to get very good answers from her anyway." I sort of want to protest just to let Mom know that I'm fine, but I'll let her make all of the calls.

Detective Olivia says, "You have a point; I think my boss will understand. I'll come by tomorrow about noon—does that sound good?"

"That's fine," Mom says. Am I still going to be in here at noon tomorrow? I would really like to go back to Mom's place; the bed was a lot more comfortable and it was quieter.

Detective Olivia leaves, thank God, giving me a chance to ask, "Momma? What's going on?" God, my voice sounds so weak and pathetic. I need to get it together, even if only for Mom's sanity.

The family starts pouring back into the room, including another new face, a man, this time. Mom pats my hand with hers. "It's a long story, but don't worry. I'm taking care of it. You just get some rest."

I nod a little and relax. Why am I so tired as of late? It was never this bad. Granted, I'm sick and injured, but I've been sick and injured before. It was never like this. However, that's another worry for another day. Mom won't let anything happen to me, so I'm safe. I can sleep and, hopefully, I won't have any dreams.

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