A/N: Hi guys! I just want to let you know that next chapter will probably be the last one. I know how it's going to end and I hope that you'll like it.

And also, If any of you people reading this are on twitter, feel free to follow me ( _hana18 ) and I'll let you know when I update and all that jazz :)

Thanks for all your reviews, keep them coming!

On Thursday Mickie walked out of her house and saw Randy sanding across the road. It made her stop. She raised her hand in a wave.

Mickie had been at home all day on her own that she didn't like the quiet anymore and needed to get out of the house. Seeing him had been a total surprise and she wanted to smile. Underneath though, there was still the uncomfortable feeling of seeing all that stuff on his laptop.

She made her way across the road and in moments she was standing in front of him.

"How did you know this was where I live?"

"I saw you walk in to this house a couple days ago when I was taking the dog for a walk."

"What are you doing here?" Mickie asked.

"I wanted to talk to you. After last week. After being in my house. There's something I wanted to say."

"You don't have to worry. Forget about it. It was nothing."

"I can't forget about it. I know about you…"

"What?" She laughed, looking round, a little self-conscious, hoping that Kelly wouldn't appear from somewhere.

"I know about you and your family. I know who you are."

"I don't get you."

"Mickie James," he said, lowering his voice, "From Cornwall. You used to live in my house. Eleven years ago…"

Mickie sighed. She could feel a headache coming on.

"I suppose you looked me up on your computer." She said, rubbing her forehead with her knuckles.

"No. I was talking to a neighbour. She said that she'd spoken to the girl who used to live in our house." Randy scratched the back of his neck. "Then I kinda put two and two together and, well.. Yeah."

"Oh." She said.

"You wanna maybe go for a walk?"

She stood still for a moment not knowing what to do. Some people edged past her on the sidewalk. She looked down the street and saw a white-blonde head turn round the corner. The last thing she wanted was for Kelly to see her talking to Randy. Especially now at this very moment.

"Yeah sure."

They turned and began walking next to each other. Mickie felt Randy's hand brush against hers and a shock went up her arm. She smiled.

"I'm sorry about last week, about you seeing that stuff on the laptop. If I'd known…"

"It's all right," she said. "How could you have known? There's nothing for you to apologise for."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to cars go down the roads, winds blow through the trees. It felt quiet peaceful.

"Was that why you were looking at the house? That first time I saw you?" he asked, his voice tentative.

"Er.. Yeah." She said.

"It kind of makes more sense now, why you were so nervous about coming to the house and stuff."

"I just didn't know how I would feel being in there again. It had been so long."

"I can understand that."

They took a left down another road.

"So, how long have you lived there?" Mickie asked.

"About a year and a half. I already told you the story about how I got it."

Mickie nodded.

"Do you miss your mum?" she asked.

"A lot. My mum raised me by herself, so we bonded a lot."

"What about you dad?"

"I never met him. My mum said that he went to prison when I was about fourteen, but by then I had never had a father and couldn't really care for one."

"Why not?"

"He is in prison Mickie, why would I want a father who is a bad influence?"

"We have something in common," She gave Randy a small smile. "Both our dads are in prison and both our mums have passed."

"Pretty weird."

Silence took over them again before Randy spoke up.

"Do you remember the night it happened?"

Mickie knew this question was coming. She could feel it. The way he was looking at her all worried like he was afraid to even ask it.

"Like it was yesterday," Mickie looked down at her feet. "I wish I could just forget about it, but I cant."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. Something like that should never have happened."

"I know."

"Your welcome to come round to the house if you ever want to take a look round you know." Mickie said.

"I would like that. But maybe just not yet, even walking through the front door was a pretty big step to take."

"I completely understand." Randy stopped walking and sat down on the bench. Mickie smiled and followed Randy's actions. "You look like your mum. From some of the pictures I've seen, she was a beautiful women, just like you."

Mickie blushed and looked down at her hands.

"Thanks."

Half an hour later, Mickie was back at home. Now that Randy knew about her it made her feel a little bit calmer. She didn't have to keep hiding secrets from him, and it made her feel good.

Mickie was sat on her bedroom floor, sorting out things that had been pushed under her bed. As she moved some boxes about, a pink folder caught her eye. Squinting to look at it, she reached for it and pulled it out. She brushed the dust off it and opened the folder.

Letters.

Mickie bit her lip as she flicked through the many pieces of paper and some unopened envelopes that were stacked on top of one another. They weren't just any letters. They were letters from her father. The father that was currently locked up in prison for murdering her mother.

She had began receiving the letters about a year after he father went to prison. She would read them, but never write back. He would always send one on her birthday, or at christmas. She thought that it was him trying to play sick mind games with her. Rubbing it in her face, that even though he wasn't there, he was still around. As Mickie got older, she started ignoring the letters, and would just stuff it in the folder without even opening it. But here she was, once again staring at the envelope. She ripped the top open of the latest envelope that she had put in there about a month ago and pulled out the crisp, white paper. Mickie was surprised to see that it was printed, her father's name at the top, right hand corner, Robert S James. It had been done on a computer. Her eyes slid down the page to the bottom, to the signature. It was scrawny, not straight, more like a pattern, the R and the J standing tall and the rest dissolving into squiggles.

She tried to focus on the page in front of her but her chest was liquid. Her ribs seemed fluid. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to work out what was going on. Fear? Sadness? Bitterness? Were these emotions swirling round, melding together? Filing her up? She slumped back and leaned against her bed. She couldn't identify any particular emotion. She felt empty.

The letter was short. Mickie made herself read it over twice.

Dear Mickie, It's been sometime since I last wrote. I hear, through the family grapevine, that you are well and that makes me feel good. I'm reasonably healthy and holding up okay. The reason why I am writing is because I feel like you need to know the truth. I have the feeling that you stopped reading my letters to you a long time ago, but if you are reading this now I hope this is what you want. While I was married to your mother, I was having an affair. It was before you were born, but I was married and I cheated. Something that I regret very deeply. While the affair was going on, the women, Julie got pregnant. So somewhere out there, I have a son, and you have a half brother. Your mother somehow found out about the affair and threatened to leave and take you with her. And I could not bare to loose you Mickie. So I snapped, and I killed your mother. Mickie, just so you know, if I could turn back time, then I would, and we would still be a happy family. But I'm afraid that's not how it is, and I am so very sorry for that. I would never do anything to hurt you. I think of you every day and wonder what you are like. You were only a little girl. I never forget that for one moment. Never.

Much, much love, Dad.

Mickie looked up. She had a half brother? Her father had cheated while being married to her mother? She quickly stuffed the letters back in to the folder and shoved it back under her bed. Mickie stood up and walked over to her window looking out at the field at the back of her house. A fews tears escaped her brown eyes as she thought of her mum. She hadn't a clue all those years. He played her. Used her. Killed her.

She didn't want her father in prison. She wanted him dead.