Mommy tells Adelaide this is the first time she's been on a plane since she was a baby; she thinks she probably didn't like it then, because she doesn't like it now. There are certain phrases she can't articulate quite yet, even if it comes out perfectly in her head, so when she intends to ask where her Aunt Jill is, it comes out a little like 'Aunt Jill fly?' Mommy understands perfectly fine and shakes her head. "Aunt Jill had to work. It's just me and you, kid." Mommy makes sure her seatbelt is fastened yet again; Adelaide is five years old now and mommy still sees her as a baby. Sometimes it's okay—like when she has a nightmare and her mommy makes her hot chocolate!—and sometimes it isn't. Adelaide can't decipher which one this is, but she ignores it because mommy told her if she's a good girl she'll stop by the record store when they get there.

Adelaide likes vinyl records. She's obsessed with them, actually. Mommy always tells her that grunge was her daddy's favorite type of music. Adelaide doesn't know what a daddy is, never remembered owning one, but Adelaide isn't sure how to go about this subject so she just accepts it. Mommy says the picture frame that's on her end table by her bed is a picture of her daddy holding her as a baby. It confuses Adelaide; she isn't that small, and the boy looks too young. She thinks mommy makes up stories sometimes, because even mommies get confused.

"We'll be arriving in Los Angeles within thirty minutes," the captain announces over the intercom. It's so loud it makes her ears hurt. Cupping her hands over her ears, she starts to rock back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until the ringing goes away. People are staring and bouncy, tight, golden curls hang over her face as she squeezes her eyes shut—"Addy," mommy says, "it's okay. Think of Mr. Bunny."—but it's only after she's given an even amount of movements does she actually do what her mommy says. It has to be even, always. There are never any exceptions. Today's Halloween, so Adelaide can dress up. It might be a funeral, but Adelaide likes her tutu and Bunny pajamas. It makes her feel safe. She likes the way the fabric feels against her skin because everything else feels itchy. She wears this almost every day, but Halloween is special: Halloween is when she wears a tiara so she can be like the pretty princesses in her favorite movie: Shrek.

Mommy and Adelaide can't get off the plane fast enough. They're staying over at Constance's house. She doesn't know why they have to: it isn't her house and Adelaide likes her house, not anyone else's. "I know it sucks, but she was kinda like your grandmother."

"Grandma on TV." Adelaide corrects with furrowed brows. At least, that's how she knew her grandparents. She'd sit in mommy's lap and look across the monitor as they spoke to her. She thinks they live in their or something, but she wishes they didn't. She'd like to give them a hug and a real kiss. Mommy used to tell Adelaide that she never liked hugs and kisses before her; this makes Adelaide happy, because mommy hugs makes everything better. They ride in a car that looks like a bumblebee and as soon as they know it, they're at the gravesite.

It's scary.

Adelaide doesn't know anyone there. They all look at her with accusatory glances and it feels like she's being choked by her chest and she can't breathe—

Mommy saves her. Mommy picks Adelaide up and holds her tightly so she can bury her head in mommy's tiny neck and hide from all the strange, strange people. They all wear black like mommy, except Adelaide. She wants to let them know its Halloween and they should dress up, but that would mean she'd have to talk, or even look at, one of the strangers and that scares her.

Afterwards people meet at her grandmother's-that-isn't-on-TV-house, and Adelaide doesn't let mommy put her down. "It was nice of you for coming, Vi," a familiar voice says, and Adelaide turns around and somehow her grandpa made his way out of the monitor. "And if this isn't Addy! I love the tiara, kiddo." He holds out his arms for her and Adelaide jumps into them, hugging him tightly. It's like a dream come true! Mommy gives a loud sigh and Adelaide thinks it's time for her to take a nap. "Princess, Grandpa!" She declares with a toothy grin. Grandpa only smiles back at her, nodding.

"Yes. Yes, you are!" He boasts, bouncing her a little, causing the little girl to give out a tiny screech. "Did I ever tell you that your mom always wanted to be something scary for Halloween? It's true. Ever since I can remember, your mom had to be the tough one. When you're older, I've got to tell you about the time your mom was banished from daycare for biting the instructor…"

Violet is a little surprised that she hasn't seen Tate, yet. She knows that he and his mom were hardly on the best of terms, but she'd figure he'd take the opportunity to do something, even if it's catching a glimpse of herself. It doesn't take her long, though; she makes her way through the kitchen and out into the backyard to see the sullen, troubled boy that could be Kurt Cobain's twin at seventeen standing there, looking at the bright sun. He's been punished long enough. "I didn't think you'd come," she says, walking up to stand next to him. Strange. She's the older one now, if only in looks, even if Aunt Jill tells her daily that it's like she hasn't aged a bit since she first arrived in Florida. "I was hoping you would, you know. To talk." He still hasn't even bothered to look at her. He keeps his eyes focused on the sky as if her presence hasn't fazed him one bit. "Addy's here, you know? She's with my dad."

"I know why you left."

It's Violet's turn to look at something, anything, but the boy beside her. She swallows a large lump in her throat; "The house didn't want Adelaide. D-Dad thinks that's why she has some health problems, because the house wanted her to be weakened. I-It wasn't just what you did to my mom." He flinches a little bit, even if she hasn't uttered the word 'rape.' "I've forgiven you, though."

"You shouldn't." He replies, embittered and almost accusatory, "I waited for you, you know. Way longer than I should have, even when I knew you weren't going to come back, I still waited for you." He turns and grabs her shoulders, forcing her to face him. She does and she can't help it—she's tearing up. She thought it was hard looking at Addy's face and seeing Tate? Now it's harder to look at Tate's face and see their daughter. See the only man she's ever been with, even loved. "I could've protected her from the darkness. I still can, Violet. Your parents, me, and Moira can look after her. You don't have to go back to Florida—"

"Mommy?"

Adelaide, somehow, has snuck away from her doting grandfather and found her mother in the arms of a stranger. Violet watches how Tate's eyes widen as he looks at his daughter for the first time since she was a newborn, gaping in awe; Adelaide, however, furrows her brows with scrutiny, blinking large, dark lashes together. "Not mommy." She says, pointing her chubby finger at Tate. She then turns to Violet with large, doe eyes, pleadingly, "Go to Addy's home now?" She asks, pouting a little.

"I told you, not yet." Violet responds, softly but firmly. Tate is still staring at her like she's the most amazing thing he's ever witnessed. Violet bends down to hoist the small girl on her hip, pointing to Tate with her free hand. "Addy, this is my friend Tate. He's the boy holding you as a baby…the one on your nightstand?"

"Addy not baby," she corrects, pouting, before hiding her face in the crook of Violet's neck. Tate's her father, sure, but to Adelaide he's still a stranger. "Addy miss home."

"Y-You can see my home?" Tate pipes in, hopefully, obviously ignoring Violet's look of disapproval. "I have toys! There's even a stuffed animal bunny I have, too, that I can give you!"

"Tate…" Violet warns.

Adelaide peeks at Tate, interest piqued by her love of bunnies, raising a little eyebrow. "Addy like bunnies."