The journey home from the grocery store was quiet. Jude's nose was buried in a comic book – which he assured her had been a gift from the woman behind him in the line and not from the thirty dollar quota assigned for their groceries – and he responded to Callie's small talk with half hearted shrugs and one word answers.

She wasn't completely concerned, figuring that the boy obviously needed some time to process what he'd seen last night and that he deserved to have a breakdown, but by the time they reached the front door of the Lance's house, she could tell by Jude's paling face that he was scared to go in.

In truth, she was scared too – the idea of being stuck in that house for the rest of the weekend made her stomach twist with anxiety and her body ache in the tender spots Lance's beating had left behind, but for Jude's sake, she knew that she would have to get over her nerves. If she just managed to convince him she was okay, then he would soon follow suit and lose the antsy stature he'd possessed since she met him after school.

Now, a little past five, they sit in the yellowing kitchen. Around them, the dated appliances creek with years of overuse as Callie cleans the stained linoleum floor and Jude sits at the table, still consumed by the comic. The house is almost silent apart from Callie's faint humming and the occasional whoosh as Jude turns the pages of his book. She still hasn't seen Lance since last night, and she's not sure whether to be pleased at his lack of appearance or worried.

The Tylenol she'd taken earlier appears to be working – her back, while still tender, feels almost normal, and the nausea seemed to disappear after she'd downed a bottle of water on the walk home from the store. It would be easy to forget about the guilt that the thieving brought with the pleasure of pain relief the pills brought, but no matter how much better she feels now, Callie swears she won't risk getting sent to jail like that ever again: she has Jude to think about after all.

Over a dinner of spaghetti-o's and toast – which both siblings scarf down like ravenous lions – Callie decides to inquire more about the comic book he has been consumed by all afternoon.

"So, you said a woman gave it to you?" she asks him, feeling somewhat awkward in this new silence that has fallen over the pair.

He looks up from his food, his face paling a little before nodding his head. "Yeah." His nervous stance makes Callie instantly suspicious, and she knows right off that there's something her brother isn't telling her.

Swallowing a bite of toast, she continues her questioning. "So did she just give it to you, or…?"

The boy chooses not to look at her this time, and instead busies himself with the food on his plate. She watches him as he aligns the small, pasta hoops into perfect rows of four, manoeuvring them around the plate with his fork. Callie instantly picks up on his behaviour: he's channelling her out. He'd mastered the skill years ago when they were in their second foster home, one where one of the biological kids would tease him for his messy haircut and laugh at his Velcro sneakers. Jude had cried the first time the boy had made a mean remark to him, and the foster mother had done nothing more than give her son a clip on the back of the head, so a ten year old Callie had been the one to comfort her little brother while he sobbed, telling him to ignore the horrible kid. By the third time it happened, Jude had become immune to the teasing, having learning how to block out his surroundings, and it was something that Callie learned to be thankful for in later foster homes – especially when things turned violent.

But now, Callie hates that Jude ever learned how to disconnect himself from the world. Sometimes, she is afraid he'll shut it out completely; because anything has to be easier than this nightmare they call their lives. Now, though, she's annoyed that her brother is using his tactic to divert her questions. "Jude?" she presses, tapping her fork on his plate opposite to her own when he doesn't respond.

At the sound of metal on china, the boy looks up, and the haziness seems to clear from his eyes. "What?" he asks, almost innocently.

"The woman?"

"Oh," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, she paid for it."

"Really?" Callie smirks, not convinced. She has spent enough time around the boy before her to be able to read almost every single one of his facial expressions. She knows him better when he knows himself, and he knows that, too, which is why it amuses her that he's trying to lie to her.

It seems Jude has caught on to Callie, and instantly his face falls and her thoughts turn to the worst. She sits back slightly in her seat, and looks from Jude's skittish stance to the thick, brightly coloured comic book beside him. Her palms begin to clam up and her breath hitches in her throat. Surely he couldn't have…

"Jude," she says, voice wavering slightly. "You- you didn't steal it, did you?"

At her words, Jude's facial expression contorts from one of fear, to one of upmost confusion, before he begins to giggle uncontrollably.

Callie, for one, is lost. She watches as the boy sits back from his half eaten plate of food, doubling over with laughter, and feels as if she's missed something in the conversation. Sure, she hadn't really pegged Jude to be the kind of boy who stole – in fact, the thought of him sneaking around the grocery store, as uncomfortable as it makes her feel, is a little funny. The boy is so timid that he barely does anything without the reassurance of his sister. But by the sounds of Jude's chortling laughs, Callie isn't so sure that her image of the young boy tiptoeing down the aisles is just that – an image.

Maybe this hysterical laughter is a side effect from the thieving – maybe it's taken a toll on his mental stability…

The thoughts spin around her head so fast, and already Callie is thinking ways to deal with her brother's rebellion. She can't let him go on thinking it's okay to steal things – what kind of person would she be if she tolerated such unethical behaviour? But as she thinks of possible consequences, she can't help but cringe at how hypocritical she's being. Here she is contemplating punishments for Jude for doing the exact same crime she had committed earlier. But there's something different about the way she see's the two situations. Jude is worth teaching – she could never allow him to turn out like her. His purity is the only thing that makes her life worthwhile. If she were to allow him to become a delinquent with a criminal record like her, then she would never forgive herself for failing him.

With her, though, it doesn't matter so much – she's already doomed, right? Why bother trying to salvage any of her long lost innocence.

Noticing that Jude has gone quiet, she pulls herself from her thoughts and forces herself to look the still smirking boy in the eye. "Look, Jude – you can't just steal stuff. I'm sorry that I couldn't get you that book, baby. And I know how much you wanted it, but–"

"Callie!" Jude interrupts, breaking her out of her rant. "Cal, I didn't steal it."

She looks at him sceptically, before sighing and reaching to place her hands over his comfortingly, much like she envisions a mother would with her child in a matter like this. "Baby, it's okay. You don't have to pretend- but you just have to know that what you did today wasn't right. If someone had caught you, we could get in a lot of trouble with Lance, or Bill, or even the police, okay?"

Jude slips his hands out from Callie's and eyes her angrily. "Callie, I didn't steal it!"

Callie's eyes widen, taken aback by the usually quiet boy's tone. "But…"

Jude sighs, and shuffles closer to Callie on the bench. "I didn't steal it, Cal. I wouldn't do something stupid like that, I swear."

His words burn through her, and Callie tries to keep the guilt from her face. If Jude only knew what she had done earlier…

But looking at the boy now, at his honest, innocent face and large, truthful eyes, she knows that he is telling her the truth. Although by the edge to his words, she isn't at all sure that she is going to be any more relieved by what he's going to tell her next.

"I didn't mention it before because I knew you would make it out to be a bigger deal than it was."

Growing nervous, Callie furrows her brow. "Mention what, Jude?"

"The woman – she was a cop," he says timidly, squinting his eyes to ready himself for Callie's response.

Out of all the things Callie had imagined the younger boy saying, this had most definitely not been one of them. "A cop?" she repeats, raising a brow. If it's true, then it will explain Jude's behaviour, and Callie relaxes a little with relief that her brother's hostility wasn't actually the result of him committing an offence. But at Jude's confirmation that the woman was, in fact, a cop of, her body instantly stiffens and her breath catches in her throat. What if this cop had seen her taking the Tylenol? What if she had been caught on the store's security camera – it would only be a matter of time before they came for her. Maybe they'd been watching her all along, one of them talking to Jude while the other observed Callie in the act.

Jude is still speaking, relaying details on the exchange of the comic book and the nasty cashier, but her mind won't stop spinning for even a second to allow her to listen. She isn't sure how the police system works, but she knows that stealing those pills was a bad enough anyway, never mind completing the act while a cop was in such close proximity. God, how could she have been so stupid?

It only takes a moment for her to realise that her breaths aren't bringing in nearly enough air, and soon, her body is starving for oxygen. Her fork clatters against her plate with her trembling hands, and beads of sweat trickle across her forehead. The inability to breathe begins to worry her to the extent that she questions whether she's having a heart attack. She doesn't know what's going on, only that if she doesn't stop this now, it'll scare Jude.

Jude continues talking only stopping to stare at his sister when she drops the fork and brings her hands up to her throat, her eyes closing tight and a frown crossing her face, as if she's in pain.

"Cal?" She hears his small voice call worriedly, but it sounds far off, as if he's through in the next room, not just opposite her. When she doesn't respond, his chair scrapes back and almost immediately he's by her side, his hand on her shoulder. "Callie, you're scaring me."

Those words are all it takes for the pain to escape her chest and her breaths to come back in quick, short gasps. With Jude's hand on her shoulder, pulling her back into the present, she shakes the overwhelming anxiety away and peels open her eyes to reveal his horror stricken face.

She curses herself for loosing control like that – it wasn't something he needed to see, and just the thought of her nearly breaking down in front of him almost sends her back into the panic-filled state.

"Are you okay?" he questions, eyes wide and lip trembling with fear.

Taking a breath, Callie rubs her face with her hands and shakes her head. Truthfully, she doesn't know what she feels, but whatever it is, is far from okay. But she can tell by Jude's watering eyes that she can't tell him that, and instead reaches for his hands and squeezes them reassuringly. "I'm fine, Baby."

"What was that?"

"I don't know, bud," she answers truthfully. The sensation was unlike anything she had really felt before. It was different from the abysmal fear that had enveloped her that night a year ago with Liam, and a different kind of trepidation she felt last night – and every other night a foster parent decided to take a swing at her. The sensation was entirely individual, and the rush of hysteria and disquietude – both mentally and physically – was enough to make her fear it returning.

"Are you in pain? From what Lance did to you last night?"

"What?" she says, having almost forgotten about the injuries she'd obtained last night; the pain had slipped her mind hours ago. What stemmed this sudden rush of panic was the mention of the cop, and the possibility that someone could trace her thieving – but she can't tell him that. "No, no. I'm fine, Jude, really. I'm just tired."

The boy shakes his head, and looks as if he's about to protest, but Callie continues before he gets the chance. "How about we go upstairs and get ready for bed early? We can camp out in my room and you can tell me all about the guy in your comic."

He looks reluctant to agree, but nods his head anyway, obviously sensing Callie's indirect pleads to drop the subject. For one night, she just wants to relax; to have a nice night in with Jude and rest her achy body, and to forget about the entire day's events – from the blonde cop this morning, to the shop-lifting, and even the near panic attack just moments ago. All she wants is some peace and quiet, for the exhausting thoughts to disappear, and for the night to go smoothly with no unpleasant interruptions. And most certainly, with no mentions of cops.

oOo

Much to Callie's relief, the night had been relatively easy going so far. Jude had started out chattering on about the main character of his comic book, but the conversation had soon turned to the boy, Carlos, who had captured Jude's attention today with the book. She smiles as Jude's face beams red while he tells Callie of this boy's spunky personality and cool backpack, and in that moment, she feels complete, genuine happiness. Jude's ability to distract her mind is incredible, and she can tell that he is enjoying this lightweight, easy conversation just as much as she is. Besides, it's nice to actually know what's going on in her brother's life for once – just spending this time together tonight really makes her realise that she's been a little out of the loop recently regarding Jude's personal development.

It's a little past 10pm when she's shaken awake by the slamming of the front door. She hadn't even realised she'd fallen asleep, but here she is, head laying on Jude's shoulder as he continues to read the comic they'd been looking at earlier. She rubs at her eyes and stifles a groan at the ache in her back from the awkward position she's laying in. How was it possible that the sleep she'd been craving so much could make her feel even worse than before?

Before she can really register what's going on, she hears his loud, staggering footsteps on the stairs, followed by a crash as he swings open the bedroom door. At the sight of him, Callie practically leaps off the bed and pulls herself into a standing position, making sure to shove Jude directly behind her. Lance looks at her, and immediately, his face turns red and his eyes flare with anger.

"What's going on?" she asks, trying to hide the fear in her voice. The man rarely comes into their bedrooms, and definitely not without a purpose, which leads Callie to believe that this isn't just a nurturing nightly visit.

"What's going on?" he seethes, sarcasm evident in his loud, clipped voice. "What's going on is I know about that stunt you pulled last night!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Callie states flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. So much for a quiet night, she thinks to herself. Jude hooks his fingers through the belt loops in her jeans, clinging to her for comfort. She hates that he has to see this again.

"Sure you do," he scoffs, taking another step into the room. Callie tenses at his approach, but makes every effort to keep up a tough front – she doesn't want to look weak in front of him. Her mind is too preoccupied with predicting possible diversions to the events that are about to unfold, and she doesn't put together exactly what Lance is talking about straight away, which only seems to anger the man more. "The cops?" he scoffs, now so close to Callie's face she can see the individual beads of perspiration dotting his brow, and smell his whisky laced breath.

Behind her, she feels Jude's grip on her tighten, and it all comes flooding back. It had been Jude that called the cops last night, and while the distraction they'd created had saved their lives, she hadn't even begun to think about the possible consequences there would be now that Lance knew they were responsible for sending a patrol out to the house. She can't exactly deny it; he knows the truth, and she knows there isn't a point in trying to get herself out of this one.

"Which one of you did it?" By the look in Lance's eye, she knows she's done for. She turns her head, looking down at Jude. His eyes are shut tight and his eyebrows are furrowed with fear. There's no way she's letting him take the fall for it. Sure, it sucks that she's probably going to get hit again on top of the injuries from last night, but she'd take that any day just knowing Jude is safe and sound.

"Me," she replies, swallowing the fear that threatens to rise. "It was me."

Jude lets out a whimper as Callie is pulled away from his side. She turns back, her eyes telling him not to worry as Lance drags her by her arm out of the room. Inside, she feels a little sense of relief that whatever is coming, Jude won't have to see. It's one thing for her to get beaten, but it always hurts her ten times over watching Jude's face contort with fear and sadness as fists plummet into her over and over.

For the first time, as Lance forces her out of the room and into the bathroom, she wonders what on earth he is going to do to her. Throughout her time here, she'd realised that Lance wasn't very creative with his punishments, and most consisted of being tossed around a little – a smack on the face here, a kick in the stomach there – but it seems the intense punishment from last night has sparked Lance's inspiration. She frowns in hesitation when she sees him shut the door, and he throws her against the bathroom wall. He grunts, squatting down to turn on the rusty facets of the bath, and the pipes of the old house creak as hot water makes its way through the plumbing system. Her stomach fills with dread as she realises what he's doing: filling the bath.

Trying to calm her breathing, her eyes dart around the room desperately searching for some sort of exit. But she knows it's no use – she has to take the punishment; avoiding it will only make things worse. Throughout whatever Lance has coming for her, she has to remind herself that it could never be worse than Jude getting shot.

oOo

She stumbles out the bathroom, her steps so careless she almost trips over her own feet. She feels her way down the dark hallway with her hands; her head is too tinny to even attempt trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness. Practically falling into her room, she makes sure to close the door quick, and only then does she release her first breath. Her body shakes violently as she slumps down against the wall. Her hair sticks to her face and her clothes cling to her body, wet from where he held her under the water.

She feels numb, and not just from the raw, red itch the stifling water had left behind as it licked at her skin. She isn't really sure how to feel, because while the punishment hadn't been fatal, it had hurt a lot more than last night – although she imagines that the pain will be short lived – but it had lasted considerably longer than last night, too. It felt as if he held her under the water longer and longer each time – or maybe that was because as time went on, and her oxygen levels plummeted, she lost track of how many times her face had been shoved into the scolding tub. Once again, Callie has to check she isn't having a nightmare. But the bruises and raw skin are enough to tell her that she had, in fact, just lived through the whole thing.

"Callie?"

She almost jumps with fright, and her eyes flick away from the spot she'd been staring at on the wall to her baby brother who sits curled up in the corner of the bed. She had forgotten he was in here, and she scolds herself for not realising sooner – she probably looked crazy, the way she was shaking so vehemently and staring off into the distance. She doesn't want him to be scared.

"Hi, baby," she murmurs, standing up and walking over to the bed. She doesn't even bother to change out of the dripping clothes, much less find a towel for her wet hair, before she pulls back the covers and slides into bed. Jude follows suit, and curls into Callie's middle. She finds herself pulling him closer, seeking his warmth to calm her trembling limbs.

"Cal? Are you awake?"

At his voice, she squeezes his hands and nods against the back of his head.

"I was thinking…could we maybe go to the beach tomorrow?" He speaks no louder than a whisper, and not just because of the late time, she realises, but because he's afraid of her answer.

The idea of even moving anywhere right now makes her feel nauseous, but hearing the little spunk of hope in Jude's voice overpowers her aching bones – that's what the Tylenol is for, right?

When she doesn't answer, Jude begins to dismiss the idea, but Callie is quick to reassure him, trying to sound at least a little enthusiastic for her brother's sake. "I think that sounds like a great idea, bud."

She can't see him in the darkness of the room, but she can tell he's smiling. As long as Jude is happy, then so is she. Besides, it couldn't hurt to get out of the house, and away from Lance, for the day.

Soon, the siblings lay in silence. Jude doesn't ask questions about where Lance took her and what he did to her, to which Callie is grateful, because she doesn't really know if she's able to form coherent sentences right now at all without breaking down into sobs. And she isn't about to do that while Jude is around.

They lay together, each of them trying to sleep against the noise of the excessively loud TV coming from downstairs, and, like most nights, each of them hoping that whatever the new day brings will be better than the last.

Thanks for reading. I know a few of you are anxious for the story to pick up its pace, and I promise, it is going to very soon - next chapter, in fact. I hope this wasn't too disappointing, I'm on vacation and wifi is limited so finding the time to update has been tricky, so I apologise for the long wait. Please let me know what you think in the reviews! - K.