Coworker and I discussed what to say to the police after you've beaten up/killed a trespasser. First: I feared for the safety of my family and myself. Second: I thought he had a gun. Boom.

I think the rain has stopped. I can't hear it anymore. I'd check, but it feels like too much effort to actually open my eyes and climb out of bed. I'm not sure how long I've lain here, but it feel likes forever, and you still haven't come back to me. My heart breaks more and more with every second that passes.

Wetness trails down my cheek, and for a moment, I think my tears have returned, and then, "Oh my, sweet girl. What has she done to you?"

I shake my head and sob some more. I must be dreaming. You would not be so forgiving after everything that has happened. Your hands feather down my body, touching the ripped purple satin, ghosting along the many scratches. Your hair brushes my shoulders, and then you're kissing each and every one of those horrible red welts.

"Daddy?" I whisper, almost afraid to ask.

"I'm here, baby girl. I'm here. Open your eyes. Let me see you." Your gorgeous greens are worried as your hands sweeps across the scrapes on my cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

"Where were you?"

"Cleaning."

I pause and then, "Are you mad at me, Daddy?"

You shake your head, bringing me into your bubble. I lay my cheek down onto your chest, and your heart beat sooths my nerves. "No, sweet girl. Though I'm not happy with what you did."

I grab onto you tighter. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. She just made me so mad!"

"Isabella…"

"I know. It was wrong, but she said she was going to tell people. She was going to break us apart!"

Your kiss is super sweet. Gentle. Like a misty rain brushing my lips. I can't help it when my eyes close and I fall, your arms catching me within their embrace. My muscles turn into putty as you shape my body against you into what fits you best. You take the breath from my lungs, and the fight almost leaves me...almost.

You pull away. So slowly. And open your eyes even slower. "There is nothing wrong with our relationship. You're eighteen. There's nothing no one can do about it."

"Alice—"

You interrupt me. "Don't worry about that naughty girl. Her and I had a little talk. She won't say anything."

I shake my head. She would. Even if she promised. She would. "You can't believe her."

This time you shake your head. "It's done, Isabella."

"You're not listening! She'll tell people! They will talk. They won't approve."

Your hesitation is a tense silence and then your hand is slowly raising, and I almost flinch when your fingers, the lines caked with dried mud, nears my face. Instead of the punishment I was expecting, you gently lift my chin until I'm staring into your gorgeous greens.

"I'm not ashamed of you. Are you ashamed of me?"

"No! Never!"

"Then no matter what people say or how they judge us, they will never be able to break us apart."

Your gorgeous greens are so hard, so definite. I want to believe you. "Promise me, Daddy. Promise me we're together forever."

"Forever, Isabella. You always have and always will be mine."