Title: Untitled

Disclaimer: I don't own Four Brothers, and am in no way affiliated with the film. All characters within, excluding Kitty Davis/Mercer, do not belong to me.

Notes; This is a Bobby/OFC fic, first of all. And that OFC is portrayed as his foster sister. If that makes you uncomfortable for some reason, don't read this fic. Also, anything written in italics is a flashback. The other writing is present time. I'm trying something different from my usual style, and it may not work. I'd like opinions, but if you don't like this fic please don't review saying something like, "This sucks, you suck".

Part One: Goodnight Moon

I turn off my car, cutting off the final strains of the song and leaving me in silence. The night is pitch black, just as black as my mood. I stretch my aching fingers, removing them from my death grip on the wheel, and sigh heavily. The cold has crept into my bones, thanks to the broken heater in the borrowed car, and I begin to shiver a little as I look up at the house in front of me. Instantly, I feel an intense myriad of emotions swell up in my heart and throat, my mind reminding me of memories I had long forgotten. I smile, a sad wistful smile, and finally move to get out of the car. I grab my things from the trunk, just two duffle bags, and head to the front door. I open the screen door, but as I do I drop my car keys. Cursing softly, I stoop to get them and just as I do, a masculine voice asks, "Need a hand?"

I let out a scream of surprise, leaping backwards instinctively, my heart hammering hard in my chest. I hear chuckling and squint to make out the form of my brother, Angel. I growl in irritation, hissing, "Asshole! Jeez, you scared the shit out of me." He stands leisurely, and stretches out his arms, giving me a half grin that is all Angel. I roll my eyes at him but step into the embrace, smiling when I feel how warm he is. He gives me a noisy kiss on the cheek, releasing it with a smack. I laugh, thinking how little he's changed, and pull back to get a good look at him. He's much taller than I remember him being, and he looks a little rougher around the edges, but despite this and the grief I see in his eyes, he looks the same. He smiles again, and I frown, leaning in a little closer to question, "Did you get your teeth whitened?" He scowls and mutters, "Shut up."

"I'm guessing you don't have the keys then?" I say, staring wistfully at the door. He shakes his head, sinking back down into the rusting chair he had been sitting in previously. I sigh a little, having always hated the cold, and sink down into a crouch on the floor in front of him. Most people would find this position uncomfortable, but I never have. Angel seems to be lost in thought for a minute, and so I take the opportunity to zone out myself, staring out the dusty window to the starry night sky above. I wonder if Mama's looking down on us right now. The thought instantly makes me stiffen, and I tear my eyes away quickly. I bite my lip as I wrap my arms around myself, still shivering a little. I close my eyes briefly and think of the funeral, one of the worst days in my life.

I open the doors to the church as quietly as I can, cursing myself and my perpetual inability to make it anywhere on time. Luckily for me, I open the door just as the people gathered begin to sing a hymn, one of the many I don't recognise. I try to slide in unnoticed but it's nearly impossible. Everyone in the back two rows turns to look at me once I open the door, feeling the cold draft on their backs. The annoyed stares of those who know me quickly melt away to expressions of sympathy and I nod at a few of these people, accepting it. I question the reality of the situation as I waveringly make the proper responses along with the other people in the church. I suddenly feel myself begin to ache for my brothers, an emotion I haven't felt in a long time. It's foreign to me suddenly, and I catch myself looking around for them. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling terribly lonely.

It's a nightmare that doesn't seem to want to end. I fidget, wanting to run as I usually do. I miss my Mama, miss the feeling that she would always be there. In my mind, no matter how far away we all drifted, we all had some place to come home to, and someone that would come to greet us if we did. I was one of her wayward children, though I called and wrote as much as I could. Thinking about it now, surrounded by people who knew her on a day to day basis these last few years, I feel ashamed. I remember our conversations as one-sided, me talking about the troupe and our shows as if nothing else mattered. She never complained, but it must have bothered her. Sometimes she would call me at the school and I would tell them to take a message, actually not wanting to talk to her. The reasons behind these situations were that I was scared, pure and simple. Mama always had a sixth sense about her children's emotions and she always knew when something was wrong. I took the coward's way out.

When it comes time to leave the church I almost don't want to get up out of my seat. In an almost perverted way, I feel better here knowing that God is most likely judging me for how I've acted. I can do my penance here better than anywhere else. But as the crowds clear and thin out, I can finally see my brothers, all looking so handsome and so damned solemn that it breaks my heart. I am not at all surprised to see that Angel is nowhere to be seen, though it does make me a little frustrated with him. It is Jack that sees me first and he waves, shouting my name in a very inappropriate way. Still, it's Jack all over and I can't help but smile, though that feels like it should be the last thing I would want to do on a day like this. My grin even widens when I see Bobby smack him in the back of the head, hissing something at him in true Bobby style. Jack's eyes widen in an expression of innocence that only he seems to have perfected and he gestures at me wildly, obviously protesting Bobby's actions.

I feel myself flush a little when Bobby turns towards me, his eyes narrowing as he tries to see me through the crowds. I can tell the instant he notices me, because his body stiffens completely and his eyes feel like they bore through me. I smile, though I'm sure it's a nervous one, and wave a little. I am just about to mouth something to him when I am nudged by an elderly woman. She gives me a patient look but I laugh breathlessly, sheepishly saying, "Sorry." I move out of the pew and into the isle, following the masses out into the graveyard. All happiness from seeing my brothers fades away as we gather around my Mama's casket. The priest says a few words, but I feel numb, too numb to take them in. Without really knowing what I'm doing, I find myself moving to the head of the crowd. Though I desperately want to, and think I should be weeping, I find that I can't. I tremble beneath my leather duster, and it has nothing to do with the cold.

I hear them begin to lower her casket into the ground and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. I want to beg them not to put her down there in the cold ground, I want to cry and scream until God gives her back to us. But I can do nothing but stand there and stare, shaking so hard that my teeth begin to chatter. I try to say goodbye to her, but it seems so wrong. I give myself a mental shake and tell myself, 'Everything about this is wrong.'

I lift my now aching eyes to my brother Bobby, startled to find that my eyes connect with his. I shiver even more when I see the look on his face, the exhaustion, the anguish and most of all, the rage. Ever since I can remember, Bobby has always been angry about something. He's had this burning fury inside of him that just never seems to go out. He's intense, so mind-numbingly intense, but there's just something about him that makes me gravitate to him. My heart aches at the sight of him, and I wish things could have been different. I tear my eyes away from him, promising myself that I won't get too involved.

As soon as the ceremony had finished, I took off. Again, this is not unusual for me. I hate awkward situations and I never liked confrontation. I love my brothers, but the way I left things with Bobby has made me a kind of outsider in many ways. I had already been somewhat of an outsider to the Mercer family, what with being the last to come into the fold and being a girl to boot. They hadn't had any clue how to treat me, and so they all, even Jack, fell into the role of the protective brother. Even though I never told them my sob story, and I know Mama never said a word either, they decided to keep me from everything that might even remotely hurt me. I rarely had boyfriends in high school because of them and their reputation. More than once, I found myself being dumped because either Bobby or Angel threatened my guy to the point of having him scared to even look at me.

As I got older, it became more and more unbearable. I went out of my way to irritate them, drinking heavily, hanging with dangerous guys, flirting constantly, sneaking into clubs when I was way too young. I made myself into a party girl just to get away from their stifling protectiveness. I didn't want them around me; I didn't want them protecting me. I wanted, as I used to be so fond of screaming at them, to live my own life. Mama used to be the peacemaker in these situations, trying to get me to see just how much they cared for me. I found it hard to believe, and I soon began to turn my attentions elsewhere. I got it into my head that I could make it on my own without any Mercer in my corner. I decided to try out for a prestigious ballet troupe, hoping that I'd manage to get away.

To everyone's surprise, I managed to get in. I moved out as quickly as I could, not letting myself feel remorse or fear. It was the night before I was leaving and everyone gathered at Mama's house. The second my brothers walked in the house, I felt the tension. Bobby openly glared at me, refusing to say a word of congratulations to me. I knew he was ready to explode, and I resented it. How dare he act like this, on my big night? Mama gave him warning looks all through dinner, but he refused to let it go. It was right in the middle of the meal that he finally snapped.

"How was it?" Angel asks me suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. I give him a puzzled look, and he slowly presses, "The… funeral." I draw back a little, murmuring, "Oh. That." I sigh heavily and stand, walking to the window. I shove my hands in my pockets and say, "It was nice… terrible, but nice." He chuckles a little, though there is no mirth in it, and seems a little more at ease. I think he didn't go because he knew how it would be. In this moment, I understand my brother's actions better than I thought I would. I pace aimlessly for a few minutes, now really feeling the cold, and briefly entertain the idea of getting back into the car. I decide against it after only a second, telling myself that it's probably warmer in here with Angel than out there in the car. 'It's not so lonely here, either,' I think, surprising myself. I had automatically assumed that being with any of my brothers, no matter how much I missed them, would be awkward. But with Angel, I'm not at all uncomfortable.

I glance at my watch impatiently, wondering where they are, and as if on cue, headlights appear in the driveway, pulling into the driveway. For a minute, I am rather pleased with myself for having parked on the street. At least this way, they won't be expecting me and I can catch them off guard. I crouch back down without even really thinking about it and wait for them to appear. When they do, they almost walk right past us. I'm positive they would have, if Angel hadn't spoken up.

"It ain't right, y'all leaving us out here in the cold." He says and they all spin around to look at him. Bobby starts in on him right away, in true Bobby style. He approaches Angel, sternly chewing him out even as he goes to hug him, greeting him as a brother should. I scowl, knowing that if it were me, I wouldn't get the same display of affection. Bobby loves to treat me like a child, and now is no different. Like a hawk, his eyes turn towards me and zero in on me, pinning me with their weight. He returns the scowl and says, "And where the fuck did you run off to without saying hello?" I stand, rising from my crouch easily, and say, "I did say hello… to Jack." With that, I turn away from him and smile at the others, stepping forward to embrace Jack and Jerry. I can actually feel his eyes still on me as we head inside.

We all freeze in the doorway, half gaping, half freezing in shock. It's like stepping back into a time warp, and the sensation is very strange. She hasn't changed a thing, at least not in this area. I take a deep breath in, feeling a lump in my throat when I smell the air. God, it even smells the same. I glance at the living room, half expecting to see Mama there with her bright and warm smile. I look to Bobby almost helplessly, feeling as though I'm rooted to the spot and unable to move. But it's not Bobby who speaks first, it's Jack. He announces he's going to go get something to eat, and I wonder with a touch of envy how he manages to stay so lean when he packs away food at the rate he does. I catch myself at the thought, knowing that this may not be true anymore. As Jack walks away from us I realize, with a pang of regret, that I don't know much about him anymore. In fact, I don't know much about any of them.

"You want anything?" Jack calls from the kitchen and we all refuse. Bobby now takes control of the situation and, as he walks up the stairs, he announces, "I'm going to get some shut-eye. Angel, you take your old room, Jackie'll have his and Kit's. Kit, you have mine. I'm gonna sleep in Mom's room." Though part of me is irritated by his attitude, I am grateful that he is the one to volunteer to take Mama's room. I don't know if I could handle that, seeing her things and knowing she won't be back. I follow them upstairs slowly, wincing at the ache in my feet. I head to Bobby's room and again, I am blown away by just how little has changed. I grin to myself when I take a deep breath in. At least that nasty boy smell has faded.

I sit on the edge of his bed and look around, committing every detail to memory. I find my heart is warmed by the sight of the things that make up Bobby Mercer. The hockey posters, the stack of comic books, some girly magazines; it's all him. I notice a couple of dents in the wall and recall the making of each one clearly. I toss my duffle bags into the corner and then kick off my shoes, my socks following soon after. I hiss in a breath when I see the sight of my feet. As much as I love my ballet, I can't stand what it does to my feet. Blisters and sores pepper my toes and the soles of my feet, red and angry looking. No wonder it hurt so much today.

I slip off of the bed and grab my smaller bag, rooting around until I find my first aid kit. Most people would think it odd that I carry one around with me, but the constant need to bandage and re-bandage my feet makes it necessary. Humming to myself softly, I sit cross-legged on the floor and begin the task. I've gotten rather fast at it, and it takes me less than five minutes to finish. I look at my feet with grim satisfaction and get up, tossing the leftovers into the garbage. I look at the window and feel that panic wash over me once again. For awhile, I battle my instincts to go over there and follow my little night time ritual, but I simply can't help it. Biting my lip, I feel myself begin to feel hemmed in. Though I know that it can and will open if I want it to, I have a hard time truly believing it. Finally, I can't take it anymore.

I go to the window and wrench it open with a bang, sighing in relief when I feel the cold air on my face. I lean over; looking straight down into the alleyway between Mama's house and next door. I feel foolish for reacting like this, but even as I do that little nagging voice in the back of my head is telling me to double check the door. I half shut the window, barely feeling the cold, and stride across the room to the door. I wrap my fingers around the knob and mutter to myself, "It's going to open… it will…." I open the door and find myself coming face to face with Jack. He nods at me and pauses to ask if everything's alright. I give him a wry look and he gets my message. He continues on his way without another word and I shut the door again, relief flooding through me. I slide down to the floor and faintly hear the sounds of music coming from the direction of Angel's room. I rest my head back and sigh heavily.

It is now, on the floor of a room that isn't mine, I find the privacy and solitude to finally release my tears. I bring my legs up to my chest and cry into my knees, trying to be as quiet as I can. I miss my Mama more than ever, and weep harder with the loss. My mind drifts for a moment, and I recall my first memories of her. 'Miss Evelyn'.

I stare up at the woman in front of me, regarding her carefully. The weight of exhaustion over the last few days pressed down on me heavily, and part of me just wanted her to leave me alone, despite what people told me about her. I sigh heavily, stepping away from the window only briefly to shake her hand before moving right back. Mrs. McKinnon gives her an apologetic look and begins, "She's still not-" The woman cuts her off quickly and decisively, earning a frown from McKinnon and a half smile from me as she says, "Kitty is still in the room, Mrs. McKinnon." I want to laugh at this, liking the older woman already. She tilts her head to one side and gently asks, "Would you like to sit outside with me?" I nod eagerly, having been told by Mrs. McKinnon that I wasn't allowed. I could tell that my incessant need to be outside was frightening her, and the chance to be out in the open is like heaven to me.

Leaving the house, I feel some of the weight leave me abruptly, making me sigh a bit in relief. I sit cross legged on the grass and close my eyes, feeling the summer breeze on my face. When I open them again, the woman is smiling warmly at me again. When our gazes meet, she says, "I've always liked it best outdoors. Something about nature that makes all your cares just blow right away. It's almost as good as squishing your toes in mud." I giggle at this, nodding. I used to do that too, before what happened. My real Mother used to hate that. She used to tell me I'd wreck my feet that way. I always knew it was a lie. The woman sits down next to me and asks, "Do you know who I am?" I bite my lip for a moment, and then softly say, "You're a social worker?" She nods, and then says, "That's right. My name is Evelyn Mercer."

"I'm Kitty Davis." I say, though I'm fairly sure she already knows who I am. I pick a blade of grass and quietly ask, "Where am I going now?" She gives me a look and says, "Another home, with a loving family." I nod shallowly, but the thought of leaving again makes me queasy. In the last three weeks I have seen the inside of three places, the police station, the McKinnon's' and the psychiatrist's office. All three places, I have felt very uneasy. They explained things to me over and over, but I can't seem to take it all in. In the Doctor's office, I try my best to tell him what he wants to hear, but nothing I say seems to be the right thing. I am tired, frustrated and tired, and I just want to go home. But there is no home to go to.

"Do you have a family, M'am?" I ask finally, looking up at her. She smiles, pride clear on her face, and says, "Yes I do. I have four boys." I raise my eyebrows, though I'm not sure why I'm surprised. She reaches into her back pocket and produces a wallet. I watch as she roots around for a bit before finding what she's looking for. She hands me a piece of paper and I take it from her carefully. It is a picture of a family, and I recognize Miss Evelyn easily. She looks a bit younger, maybe a year or two. Some of the hairs on her head are blonder than they are now, and she has a few less lines on her face. My eyes move away from her to the others in the picture and I frown, not understanding for a moment. I look up at her and ask, "Why are they all different colours?" She laughs a bit, replying in an amused tone, "I adopted them." She points them all out, telling me their names as she does.

"That's Angel," she tells me, pointing out the tallest in the group. He's beaming widely, standing right next to Miss Evelyn, and looks very content. He is handsome, and I can tell already that he must have a gift with girls. When Miss Evelyn tells me as much only a moment later I can only grin. She taps the picture a little lower down and says, "That's Jeremiah, or Jerry as the others call him. He's my thinker." I tilt my head to one side, taking in this second son. True to what she says, he seems intelligent, judging by the look in his eyes. His face is incredibly serious in this photo, as if he were posing for one of those old time photos.

"Sitting next to him is the youngest, Jack." She continues, pointing him out to me. A smaller boy smiles uncertainly out at me, his brown hair sticking up all over the place. Miss Evelyn tells me that he's only a year younger than me and I am surprised. By his stature, he looks much younger, maybe seven or eight. I find myself hoping that the others protect him, because he looks so lost to me. Everyone else in the photo is so much bigger than him. I look away from him to the last boy in the photo. This one is smirking more than smiling, looking like he's trying to be cool while still attempting to please his mother. He's not as dressed up as the others are, and his thick brown hair is slightly mussed, but he seems a bit more natural than the rest.

"That's Bobby." Miss Evelyn tells me, "He's the oldest and quite a handful." She pauses for a few beats and then asks me, "Would you like to meet them?" I give her a surprised look and ask, "Why?" She considers this for a moment and then honestly says, "I'd like you to trust me. And I believe that in order to gain someone's trust, you have to get to know them. My boys are an important part of my life, so…." I understand and say, "Okay." I gaze at the picture once more before handing it back to her. She puts it back in her wallet and says, "Do you remember what they told you at the station?" I nod instinctively, though it's not entirely true, pulling up a few more blades of grass. Despite my answer, she continues, "They told you I'd be stopping by to ask you a few questions. Is that alright with you?" I nod, because up until this point she's asked me a lot of questions already.

"Do you know what grade you're supposed to be in?" Miss Evelyn asks. I pause at this, trying to figure it out. It's been a very long time since I was in regular school, and when my Mother decided to pull me out, I was in grade five. After that, I was home schooled until…. I shiver a bit, quietly telling her, "I think the last time I was in proper school was grade five?" It's more of a question than a statement, but I get the message across. She nods, looking as though she's filing away this information in her head for later. She asks me a bunch of questions after that, things about my health and the psychiatrist and things like that.

Then she asks me a question that makes me smile, my spirits lifting immediately. Whenever anyone asks me what I want to be when I grow up, I find myself filled with spirit and energy. It surprises most people, but Miss Evelyn doesn't seem surprised at all. I speak rapidly and excitedly when I answer, "I want to be a ballet dancer. Mother says I'm very good and I've practiced every day since I can remember. I've studied all the masters and one day I'm going to be like them. Mother said that because I'm eleven now, I can start being serious about it. There's a school in New York called Julliard I want to go to someday. Mother wanted me to go as well, that's why…."

I pause mid-sentence and simply gaze at her, tired of speaking about it. The police made me talk about it, the McKinnons made me talk about it and the psychiatrist continues to force me to speak of it. I want there to be at least one person who doesn't know every detail of what happened to me, who isn't on my case about it. I'm supposed to be angry with my Mother, for what she did to me, but I simply can't be, at least not yet. I am too exhausted to dredge up the emotion. Miss Evelyn seems to understand this and doesn't ask me another question. She takes her leave soon after, and the look on her face stays with me for quite some time afterwards. Sad, and yet contemplative, she hasn't fallen into the same old trap as the others. She didn't display only pity. She waved at me as she drove away, a gesture I returned just as Mrs. McKinnon called me in for dinner. I glanced back at the house, half wanting to launch a protest instantly. Instead, I pick myself up and march into the house, shutting the door behind me. I pause to test it, but unlike usual, I only do it once.

I take my place at the table, proud of myself, and eat under the incredulous looks of Mrs. McKinnon and her rather apathetic husband. I have turned over a new leaf, in my mind and in my life.

I swipe at the tears on my cheeks almost angrily and get to my feet. I pace for a bit, feeling the emptiness of the room even more now, and suddenly feel the urge to leave. I go to the door and flee Bobby's room, heading instinctively for the room I shared with Jackie. I find him reclining on his bed, strumming at his guitar aimlessly. He blinks himself out of his daydreaming when I enter the room, giving me a mournful look when I collapse on the end of his bed, flopping backwards and heaving a dramatic sigh. He gives me a nudge with his foot and, without stopping his playing, he asks, "You alright?" I chuckle dryly and hoarsely say, "Yeah. I'm just… just a bit lonely." I curl up onto my side and admit, "I missed you Jackie." He gives me a half grin, glancing up briefly as he says, "I missed you too, believe it or not." I make a face at him and jokingly say, "Har har, you're very funny."

We fall into an amicable silence, and I find myself enjoying his company, just like when we were younger. I remember when I first moved in, I overheard Bobby teasing him about having to room with me. At first I was a bit hurt when Jack didn't say anything, but I had soon learned that it was just Jack's style. He waited until Bobby finished his taunting, and then he'd make his retorts. Bobby's voice was practically delighted sounding when he crowed, "Aw, the little princesses will be living together! You gonna braid each other's hair and gossip about all the cute little boys at school? 'Ooh, he's so fine, I want him so bad!'" Bobby's voice rose into a mock-feminine tone, and I could hear Angel guffawing from where I stood.

"You know, I feel sorry for you," Jack said in response, his voice very calm with a touch of amusement, "You see, while you're stuck in your room getting acquainted with your right hand, I get to hang out with Kitty and her ballet friends. I get to watch them practice. In spandex and leotards. Together.Poor, poor Bobby." He walked away then, leaving Angel practically in hysterics, and I could just picture the look on Bobby's face, a look of stunned dawning. Jack was grinning to himself when he walked up the stairs, but the grin faded when he saw me. He gave me a sheepish look and began to excuse himself for what he said, but I shook my head at him, reaching out and mussing his hair a bit.

I snicker at the memory, but my mood turns sombre again when I hear a noise at the door. I look up in time to see Bobby walk in. He's still wearing the clothes he'd had on at the funeral, excluding the jacket of course. He's blinking almost constantly, his eyes suspiciously red, and I am not at all surprised when he sits down on the floor with his back to the both of us. We both know he's been crying, but neither of us bother to point it out. What surprises me the most about his arrival is the accompanying feeling of wanting to comfort him. I want to make him feel better with an intensity that really startles me. After all this time and after everything we've said to each other, I still have a very strong connection with him. I resist the urge, stubbornly clinging to my anger at him. He makes it easier for me by gruffly asking, "You two princesses done crying in here?" Jack and I roll our eyes in unison, Jack muttering, "Man, let it go."

There is a lull for a moment, which Jack breaks by asking, "Is it weird in Mom's room." Bobby groans, tilting his head backwards, and says, "So weird." I silently sympathize with him, but don't say anything, instead turning my attention to the comforter on Jack's bed. Outside the wind howls mournfully and I lift my eyes to look out at the darkness. The panic doesn't come; it never does when I'm with others. I glance down at Bobby and do a double take when I see him looking at me calculatingly. I frown at him and sharply ask, "What?" I internally wince at my own tone, feeling especially guilty when he just as sharply responds, "Just wondering how you're doing. Shit!" I sigh a little and quietly mumble, "Sorry." I pause for a moment before opening my mouth to say something, but the arrival of Jerry at the door makes me stop before I can get started. I smile and nod at him in greeting and he does the same, giving a little breathless laugh when he sees us all.

My mind wanders again, only halfway registering something about getting a turkey and having a family dinner. I want to ask Jerry if he's lost his mind, but I figure I'd only hurt his feelings that way. It seems to matter to him a lot. It's not like I have to get back right away, the troupe told me to take my time. I blink myself out of my thoughts to see Angel in the hallway. I frown a little when I see he's dressed as if he's about to leave, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. In many ways, I have to agree with him. The second Bobby lays eyes on him, he's attacking. Not for the first time, I have to wryly wonder why he didn't become a cop. He's got the interrogation thing down pat.

"Where the fuck are you off to?" he demands. Angel, true to form, freezes in mid-stride, and I have to grin when I see how he acts. He knows he's in trouble, in one way or another, and so he starts pulling his old routine. When Angel is caught about to do, or in the middle of, something he knows he probably shouldn't be doing his eyes go a little wide and this look of pure innocence blooms on his face. It's really rather fascinating to watch. He shoves his hands into his pockets, and fidgets a little. Bobby is in one of his moods tonight and he doesn't let up for one second as he begins to tease Angel. Strangely enough, Bobby is rather poetic in the delivery and phrasing of his insults and I find myself laughing along with the others. Angel finally tells us straight out that he isn't going over to Sofi's, his eyes wider than ever. He's still lying, it's easy to tell.

He leaves then, and with him the laughter leaves as well.

End Part One.

Soundtrack for part one: "Goodnight Moon" by Shivaree

What did you think? Can you guess what happened to her in the past?