Thank you guys for being so patient with me! This is WAY harder than I expected. I seriously appreciate every writer on here because it's a huge time commitment. Anyway, this chapter is so sad for Amy (surprise, surprise) but I read once that dragging the protagonist through a mound of shit makes the reward better in the end. SHE WILL HAVE A HAPPIER ENDING I SWEAR!

Their pace was slow and deliberate. Like they were savoring how each step started from the heel and rolled to the toe. Any other day their walk would be painstaking, but today it allowed for their thoughts to be arranged and sorted. They turned the corner revealing Amy's brick house and let the silence fall to the grass like dew.

"We're here." Sheldon pinched himself for saying. He hated when people stated blatant observation for the sake of salvaging a dying conversation. But often times with Amy he couldn't gather the words to say. So many words tumbled in his head but none fell to his lips.

"Hm." Was all Amy said as she stared at the house like it was brand new.

"I'll just wait on the porch, while you go inside."

"The porch?" She swung her eyes from the house to Sheldon.

"The lawn then?" Amy's face crumpled in confusion. "Fine, I'll stay on the sidewalk."

"You don't want to come in?"

"W-well, you said if your mother found out you had a boy in your house she would lock you in the closet. I don't know how true that is but it's better safe than sorry, right?"

"Right" She cursed herself for letting that slip. "Well, if you don't mind. I'd love for you to come in… I really need someone to talk to today."

"But what about your mother?"

"I'm willing to take that risk. Are you?"

"Ditching school and sneaking into a girl's house in the same day, this must be how George feels."

Houses usually never feel empty. The life of those living there give the house vibrancy even when they aren't there. However, Amy's house was empty. The air was stale and the furniture untouched. A ghost would even feel uncomfortable.

"My mother loves quiet and order." Amy said watching the uncomfortableness crawl up Sheldon's back. "A disorderly house is a disorderly life, she always says."

"I admire both, but this is…extreme."

"Let's go up to my room, it's more homey." She was right. Her room felt like a hug. The smell of warm vanilla swept across his face, while her bed and chairs were adorned with beautifully detailed quilts. His audible breath was enough to let Amy know he felt comfortable. She gestured to the room as he headed to the chair beside her bookshelf.

Amy followed suit but continued to the bed taking off her shoes before curling her legs beneath herself. Watching her spread her toes and roll her ankles was very intimate for Sheldon. She was getting a type of comfortable they had never been around each other. It was strange. Once she was settled she dropped the pieces of the broken pen on the bed and watched it, somehow willing it to repair itself.

"I bet you think I'm crazy." Amy said fingering the spring.

"Why would I think that?"

"I literally threw a tantrum in the middle of class...over a pen. I know everyone else thinks I'm crazy."

"Well they can just go kiss my grits!" Sheldon said wringing his neck and waving his finger like he was imitating someone trying imitate a sassy black woman. Amy laughed. But the longer she played with the broken pieces the more her emotions snowballed to throat. Before she could make a beeline to the bathroom she began choking out cries. She cupped her head in her hands and gave her emotions permission to explode.

Jesus! Sheldon thought as he slid off the chair and approached her like she was an anxious puppy. He stood over her saying 'there, there' but after three minutes his 'there, there's' were becoming apart of the background.

Comfort her! He said to himself, but his disdain of tears prevented him to do so. Although, watching her back twist in agonizing sobs wasn't any better. He opened his sweaty palm and watched it hover over her back wanting to smooth the tension. He hesitated again. Rubbing her back would be so intimate. What if he felt...her bra? What if in his nervousness his fingers shook and he accidentally unhooked it? Is this what being a teenage boy is like? Thinking inappropriate sexual thoughts at the wrong time.

"Sheldon." Amy cough, throwing him out of his erotic stupor. "Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here." He said. His fingers still hovering over her back. He tried to move them but they disobeyed his commands.

"I need you." Amy said in a mousy plea. Her words were the spell to cast him into action. He plopped his hand on her back, harder than intended, and glided his palm in a disjointed circle. As her breath eased his movements became more gentle and nurturing. His hand was drunk with her touch as he felt her melt into his body.

"He died today," Amy said focused on a spot on the floor, "My father. He died 9 years ago today...9 years...What's funny is that it feels like yesterday he was giving me a goodnight kiss and saying 'Don't let the bedbugs bite, if they do...spray!' But at the same time it feels like he was never hear. That I made him up."

"Do you have anything left of him- a hat, photo, ring- to keep him real?"

She thought for a bit. "He used to write me letters. He traveled a lot when I was younger and he would send me letters describing what he was studying, how much he missed me, and how much he loved me. When he got back he continued to write but he'd hide them around the house for me to find." She smiled as the memory played in her mind. But grief bled over the serenity of the moment and all she saw was gray. He felt her back tense again and he wrapped his free arm around her shoulder pulling her into his chest. "After he died, it broke my mom's heart to watch me cry over the letters so she hid them from me. I think they're in the attic but maybe they're better left hidden. I just miss him, you know?"

"I do."

"I miss having someone who treats me like I deserved to be loved." Sheldon wasn't one to say something 'broke his heart' because of how absurd the idea was. But hearing Amy's voice break at her tragic confession made his heart literally constrict. The urgency to erase her pain became overwhelming.

"Listen to me." Sheldon said turning her shoulders to face him. Her head had fallen to her chest and she look too exhausted to even breathe. "Listen to me, Amy." He said stronger demanding her attention. "You deserve to be loved, that's a given. Just because your father is gone doesn't mean his love isn't. It doesn't mean other people don't love you." His fingers were pressing into her so hard he was afraid he'd leave a mark. Something was bubbling inside of him and he was trying to keep it at bay. He took in a big gasp of air and shut his lips tight. Now the feeling a rush from his chest to his eyes.

"Sheldon? Are you alright?" Amy said wondering if he were going to vomit. Had the words he said to her tasted that vile that he couldn't stomach them. "Sheldon, say something!" She leaned her face closer to his looking into his jumpy eyes.

Bad idea. Bad idea!

Sheldon pulled her in and kissed her on her cheek, letting his lips savor her velvety skin. But as soon as he felt himself enjoying it he pulled back frightened at what Amy's response would be. She could kick him, and demand him to never enter their house again. She could yell at him and forbid him from ever talking to her. Or she could slap him hard and ensure they never crossed paths. All of which ended in him never seeing Amy and the thought of that set him on edge.

"I- I umm...tripped!" So much for being a genius. Now he would have to explain how a sitting man can trip.

"Thank you." Amy said staring back. Her face was inches from his like she was going to kiss him too.

"Ayyyeeemeeeee!" A blaring voice came from downstairs. The pair heard the front door open and shut and they quickly ran to separate corners of the rooms, looking incredibly suspicious.

"What should we do?" Sheldon mouthed to Amy who looked like she was going to jump out of her bedroom window.

The closet! He thought. He'd seen Missy do it a thousands times. She'd sneak a boy over while mother was at Sunday school. And when Mary returned early because sister Ann is 'a loud mouthed hussy who can't mind her business', Missy would stuff the guy in her closet like a winter coat. Perhaps he should hide in Amy's closet. But that would admit they were doing something wrong. He was just consoling a weeping woman, while holding her and kissing her...alone...in bed. Dangit!

He raised his foot to head toward the closet when he heard the lock of her knob click.

"Amy, what are you doing home so early?"

"Umm" Amy twitched so hard she might as well have tattooed on her face 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good.' Her mother's eyes followed to where Amy was obviously avoiding and she yelled when she saw Sheldon.

"A boy!" Barbara grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and held her close like she was protecting her from an armed robber.

"Mother it's just Sheldon." She twisted from her grip, walking between the two.

"Still a boy."

"H-hello Ms. Flower." He said.

She glared.

"Nice to see you." He said again.

She glared again.

"Sheldon was just on his way out." Amy prompted, nodding her head toward the door. He didn't have to go home, but he had to get the hell up out of here. He scrambled for his bag and ran toward the door, ducking as he passed her mother.

"Thanks again." Amy whispered to him.

Sheldon was skipping two and three steps at a time seeing freedom just beyond the door. But he was too slow and allowed for Barbara to wrap her mind around the situation.

"What are you thanking him for, Amy?" The room turned to ice.

"What?" Was all Amy could cough up.

"I want to thank Sheldon for his generous act. I just need to know what it was he did." Her mother stood at the top of the steps paralyzing his back with her stare.

"Oh! He walked me home. It was very chivalrous of him and I wanted to thank him." Barbara nodded methodically. Dangerously methodically.

"So you two skipped school so he could walk you home?"

"I...um wasn't having a good day at school and I really needed to go home. So Sheldon walked me home and comforted me and now I feel much better." Amy assumed at this point the truth was the only thing that could save her from an entire day in the sin closet. Because she was definitely going to have a long reunion with the closet after this fiasco.

"Comforted you?" Barbara hollered. "You must think I was born yesterday? I knew it! I knew if I let you spend time with that boy he would turn you into a whore within seconds." She said 'boy' like she was saying the worst curse word. "I thought you learned your lesson after prom?"

"Learned what? That Sheldon is the only person who has shown me a bit of care in years."

"That you are different and you can't do everything everyone else does."

"Like what? Have a friend, go to a dance, laugh, enjoy myself? Is that what you are so afraid of? Is that what you are trying to protect me from, Mom?"

"I'm trying to protect you when all of that is snatched from under you like a rug. When you realize that he doesn't love you like you want him to. They are scientist Amy, and when things don't produce their desired results they abandon them. We're just experiments. I'm protecting you from that." Amy turned her head toward the steps to tell Sheldon she didn't believe he would do something like that. But she caught him standing by the door, halfway open.

"I should go." Was all he said as he exited the room. His eyes stayed locked on Amy's as long as he could.

"I told you." Her mother said low.

"You chased him away! Why are you so against me being happy? I'm starting to believe you find pleasure in watching me be miserable. It's like the people who show me an ounce of love, you snatch them away from me."

"Who are all of these people that I have snatched from you Amy? Please, enlighten me."

"Sheldon…" She almost couldn't think of anyone else. That thought alone weakened her. "...dad."

"If only you knew." Her mother scoffed and rolled her eyes "Let's just settle this argument on the fact that I know more than you. Take my advice, and forget about him. You'll thank me later."

"No! Here are the facts: Sheldon cares about me, and I care about him. He hasn't done anything close to inappropriate this entire time. Here's another fact. Dad actually loved me, and you didn't, or don't. I can't really tell anymore." Her mother's shoulders fell and her eyes froze. But Amy didn't feel any sympathy. Was she wrong? Her mother never showed so much as a interest in Amy if she wasn't punishing or scrutinizing her. If it wasn't for her father, Amy would have never known what it felt like to feel wanted. "Here's another fact-" Amy stopped when her mother turned and descended down the stairs. Her body was more stoic than usual, like a mannequin who learned how to walk. "I'm not finished." Amy yelled after her.

Her mother was going to listen to every word Amy chose to say, whether she wanted to or not. But she didn't stop walking. She walked through the entire house until she reached her bedroom. Amy hated going into her mother's bedroom. When she opened the door the room oozed blue and grey, and was perfumed in loneliness. Barbara kneeled on the floor, reaching for a box beneath the bed. In it was all types of items from her past. The tassel from her graduation cap, movie stubs, a wedding ring, and a stack of thin paper. The paper began to brown revealing its age. "Mother this isn't the time to hear about your cheap steals a storage room auction."

Barbara carefully handed her the handful of letters. "What are you doing?"

"Snatching the rug myself."

She recognized the sloppy handwriting. They were her dad's letters.

Dearest Amy,

The university adopted a baby monkey this week to observe its behavior. She's 1 month today and her name is Darla. She's wide eyes and always jumping with excitement. I told them to consider naming her Amy because you are the same. Your eyes beam with excitement and wonder, and your light spirit sends you around the room like a feather. Darla's doesn't understand what a contribution to science she is making but she is revolutionary beyond belief. And so are you.

Your mother tells me that the girls in your class have been picking on you after the science fair. But they don't understand the wonderful contribution to science you will someday make. They don't see how revolutionary are. Don't let what others cannot see keep you from seeing it as well.

All my love,

Dad

Tears begged to fall but they stopped at the edge of her lid. She fingered the stack and there they were, all of the letters he had written her. When he went to California and Boston. When he co wrote an article for an academic journal. When Amy has her first harp recital. All of those memories sitting in her hands. The more she shuffled the bunch the more the letters became unfamiliar. Some of them were addressed to his parents, his friends, and her mother.

Something was different about her letters. Amy's letters had light writing, The cursive swooped and curved like a feather on the page. But the letters addressed to her mother were darker, the ink pressed deep into the paper. Jagged and rough.

Dearest Barbara,

You know I want to be home but my work is calling. This could be the experiment, Barb. The experiment that finally takes me over that hump. This could be better for both of us. I can't stop now.

Your love!

To Barbara,

You know what kind of life I wanted when you married me. If you're being taken care of why do I have to be home all of the time?

Barbara,

How dare you? I finally get a taste of success and you are adamant on taking it all of that away from me. Why can't you stand to see me happy? And now you want to throw in a baby into the mix. If you haven't noticed our marriage isn't anything worth writing home about. I hope you don't think this baby will salvage anything because it won't. I am going to be a groundbreaking scientist, I know that, and nothing will stop me. Not even you. Not even that baby. So if I need to sign the papers over for that mistake then fine. You can mail them to me.

"You're lying." Amy threw the papers letting them fall like snow to the ground.

"You're all about tangible facts, Amy. How can I lie about what you saw yourself?"

"He wouldn't say this. You wrote this yourself." Her emotions carried her in a stampede around the room. She stopped when a crippling scream was pressed against her chest. Amy threw a shaky hand over her mouth stopping her from succumbing to it. She wasn't going to cry over something that wasn't true.

"Amy, open your eyes! We are just alike. All I wanted when I was your age was love. I wanted friends and a boyfriend so badly that I sacrificed my happiness for it. I fell in love with a man who would always put me second. Watched him disown his child. Watched him come crawling back once his career failed. Just to give you all of the love I desperately wanted. I don't want you to end up disappointed and hurt like me...But you can't be disappointed if you don't have any expectations." The room fell silent, bursting with unspoken confessions and uncovered pain.

What surprised Amy through all of this was that her mother never cried once. Not even like she had the urge to cry or the ability. She only looked empty. As hollow as a vase. Was this how broken her mother was? Was that why his death gutted her? Because he died without ever loving her. And she watched her daughter go through the same thing.

Amy wanted to walk to her mother but she didn't know if she wanted to hug her or slap her. Instead she stood by the door until her legs allowed her to leave.