I'm not sure how long I stay there, stroking Ophelia's hair. I feel a flutter in my chest whenever she looks at me. I've done something right for a change. I love her and I know nothing about her, but I love her.

Stanley watches us intently, before sighing, "Rebel, why don't you come out here so I can talk to you?"

Glancing over to Stanley, I nod, and stand up, leaving my daughter to play in peace. I follow Stanley into the living room. It's dimly lit, and smells like plastic and wood.

We both sit on the couch and I curl into his side. "I've miss you so much," I mutter. "You have no idea what it was like."

He tenses, and I pull away. "Something wrong?" I ask concernedly.

He shakes his head, "Rebel, you've missed a lot."

"Everyone keeps saying that, what exactly happened? Tell me from the beginning."

He runs his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, "When you left, everything was pretty chaotic. No charm appeared and that sent Morpheus into a huge fit. He just kept saying 'we had a deal!' and I was scared for our daughter. Beyond and I left and blinked back to Mello's house. My sister, was left with Morpheus. He killed her…"

He trails off and I urge him to continue, "What happed after that?"

"You have to understand, I just—" he cuts himself short yet again. What is so hard to say?

"Kaige was—"

"Kaige was what? Just spit it out, Stanley!"

He glares at me before softening his expression, "I'm sorry, it's a hard thing for me." I want to say it was a hard thing for me to be away from my family. It was a hard thing for me to be tortured for five years, so saying what I missed couldn't be any worse. Could it?

"Near and Kaige were fighting. Like fist fighting. Only Dreagon and I knew what was happening. Near took a knife from the kitchen and…stabbed Kaige in the chest."

"WHAT?!" I freak out, "Near would never do something like that, what—how—"

Stanley shakes his head, "You didn't let me finish. Near was the one consumed with Wrath, it wasn't you. The voices you heard, the ringing in your ears, was something else."

"But how did you know for sure he was the one consumed by sin? Yes he freaked out, but—" I'm not really sure what to say. But what?

"Because he was killed."

Tears start to sting my eyes, "I don't understand. Who would kill Near?!"

Stanley's gaze drops to the floor, and he fiddles with his hands in his lap. "Ophelia killed Near. She's an Angel of Death. She can kill anyone she wants. As a baby, she didn't do anything but now that she's older, she likes to sing or hum to kill someone…."

I'm speechless. My daughter killed my brother. I wipe my eyes, "Has she killed others? Can she kill us?"

"No, she can't kill us because we're her parents. Anyone of blood to us, she can't kill. But she's dangerous to humans, she's still too young to understand when and when not to kill someone. So I had to move, away from Mello and Matt. I couldn't risk them dying. And Kaige… do you know what happens when a Fallen Angel is killed by a sin?"

I shake my head, "What happens?"

"They become demonic, Rebel. Kaige became a demon and was so ashamed, she left to live in the Underworld. Dreagon's disappeared since that day, nobody's seen him. L became depressed and left to live with Beyond and Rowan and Dark. Ophelia and I live here away from everyone. I haven't spoken to Matt or Mello since then either…"

"What happened with Morpheus?" I ask, shocked.

"I gave him Wrath, and he took the necklace and your contract and sealed them. He hasn't bothered us since."

This is unbelievable. "So everyone's gone? Just like that?"

Stanley nods, "I'm afraid so. But you're back, and maybe we can start to get back in touch with Matt and Mello?"

I nod, "Yeah, maybe."

"I know it's a lot to take in, but just be happy that you're here and you have a wonderful daughter," Stanley says, trying to cheer me up.

"A daughter I know nothing about. She's not going to warm up to me, Stanley. I've been gone for five years of her life. God knows she'll probably resent me for eternity!"

"Don't you think you're being dramatic?" he asks.

"No! I'm not, I've just lost everyone, I have a daughter who I don't know the first thing about, and I have no idea what to do!" I panic.

"Calm down," Stanley soothes, rubbing circles on my back. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know about her."

"I want to know everything!"

"Ok, well let's start with the basics," he says, getting up and leaving the room. He returns with The Catcher in the Rye.

"This is her favorite book. She's very intelligent and can comprehend a lot more than you think. Her favorite colors are pink and blue. Her favorite food is oranges. She likes to play with her toys a lot. She likes all kinds of music. She hates taking baths, and she hates wearing dresses, so I have to force her into them. She loves coloring, and watching Dance Moms on TV. She has one special stuffed animal that she takes with her everywhere, and his name is Croaks. She's quiet most of the time, and her favorite movie is The Shining."

"You let her watch The Shining?!" I ask in disbelief.

"I thought she'd hate it and never ask to watch a scary movie again, but no, it's become a favorite."

"That's horrible," I say shaking my head.

"That's out daughter."

"That's right."

We sit in silence for a while until a quiet shuffling is heard down the hall.

"Ophie, we can hear you, come on in," Stanley calls.

I see her tiny form peek around the corner with those huge eyes. She's holding something in her hands, clutching it tightly to her chest.

I smile widely at her and she cowers back a few steps.

"Come here," Stanley says, opening his arms. She runs and jumps onto his lap. I frown, she's so comfortable with him.

"Hi Ophelia," I greet warmly. "What's that in your hands?" She stares right through me and I get a little unnerved.

"This is her frog, Croaks," Stanley clarifies. I look at it, with its faded color and its matted fur. The poor thing's been through hell. It's stretched out with a long neck that seems as if it's been sewed back on a few times. It doesn't look like a frog; just a rag with eyes. It looks like it croaked a while back.

"It doesn't…" I start before Stanley cuts me off.

"It's a frog," he states in a tone that says don't argue. Shrinking back in my seat, I watch as she plays with Stanley's hands and shakes her head as he whispers in her ear.

Why can't my relationship with her be like that? But I need to clear that thought from my head. Stanley's the only one she knows. I can't win her over in a day, no matter how much I'd like to.

"It's getting late, time for bed," Stanley says. Ophelia pouts cutely and I laugh. "Is it ok if I tuck you in, honey?" I ask.

She looks at me before sliding off Stanley's lap and heading back down the hall. Glancing at Stanley, he points to the direction she went, "You know where her room is."

Standing up, I head to the back to see she's already in her pajamas. They're Hello Kitty and they look adorable on her.

I watch as she climbs into her bed and pulls at the dark blue covers. I sit on the edge of her bed and look around the room. It's pretty bare. Just pink walls and lots of toys.

"I heard you like The Cather in the Rye?" I mention, "Would you mind if I read it to you?"

She stares at me for a moment, and I wonder if I'll ever get an answer out of her. Put she soon reaches under her pillow and pulls out a worn, paperback copy, and hands it to me.

I take it gently, running my fingers over the smooth pages.

"If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. They're nice and all - I'm not saying that - but they're also touchy as hell. Besides, I'm not going to tell you my whole god dam autobiography or anything. I'll just tell you about this madman stuff that happened to me last Christmas just before I got pretty run-down and had to come out and take it easy. I mean that's all I told D.B. about, and he's my brother and all. He's in Hollywood. That isn't too far from this crumby place, and he comes over and visits me practically every week end. He's going to drive me home when I go home next month maybe. He just got a Jaguar. One of those little English jobs that can do around two hundred miles an hour. It cost him damn near four thousand bucks. He's got a lot of dough, now. He didn't use to. He used to be just a regular writer, when he was home. He wrote this terrific book of short stories, The Secret Goldfish, in case you never heard of him. The best one in it was «'The Secret Goldfish.' It was about this little kid that wouldn't let anybody look at his goldfish because he'd bought it with his own money. It killed me. Now he's out in Hollywood, D.B., being a prostitute. If there's one thing I hate, it's the movies. Don't even mention them to me."

I continue to read the first chapter, until I hear soft breathing. Ophelia snuggles with her "frog" and snoozes gently on her pillow. Placing the book on her nightstand, I drape the blankets over her and kiss her forehead.

"I love you," I whisper, even though she can't hear me.

She's far off in her dreamland.

But I say I love you anyways.

Because I know if it were me, I'd want someone to do the same thing.

Hey guys, sorry for the late update. I've started classes and they keep me busy. Tell me what you think. Love reading comments. Love you guys!