Amy POV

March 11th

It was Sunday. In the morning, Callie and I went to the closest mall and did some shopping. We stopped in few shops and bought some new clothes for Callie. Some shirts, sweaters, jeans, PJ, underwear, sweatpants and t-shirts to wear at home. Also two pairs of shoes. After that, we went grocery shopping together. I had written a list and together we managed to get through the list faster than I usually do on my own.

Once we got home, Callie went straight to her room. I packed out all the food and then decided to do some laundry. While the clothes were washing, I cleaned the house. So, overall, today was pretty average day, but it has been quite busy so far. It kept me busy. Haven't had time to sit down, stretch my legs out and just relax, like normal people do on Sundays. But I couldn't complain, it was a good day so far.

I was taking out the clothes from the dryer machine, when the bathroom doors opened a little.

"Oh, sorry," Callie saw me and started to back out of the bathroom "I'm gonna take a shower later,"

"No, no...I'm leaving! You stay," I said tossing last piece of cloth in the basket. I picked up the basket. Callie stepped aside, letting me pass. I smiled at the girl as I walked pass her.

When I was up to my room, Callie disappeared in the bathroom, closing and locking the doors behind her. I set the basket down on my bed side and started to fold and sort the clothes into piles – mine and Callie's stuff. Once I had put away all of my clothes, I picked up the pile of Callie's clean clothes and carried them to her room.

I was happy to see that the drawers were getting more full with each shopping trip. At the start she had like 3 shirts that she rotated around, but all of them were pretty worn out already. We have come a long way since the beginning. The first shopping trip I had with Callie was very quick. Not to mention, Callie seemed very reluctant, timid and overall uncomfortable with shopping with me.

We had only bought one sweater the first time. It was basically the first one she saw just to please me. I wanted to shop some more, but it didn't seem like Callie was up to it. So we left. But we returned few days later and bought another piece of clothing. Week by week, one piece of clothing at a time, I have manged to fill her closet with clothes that actually fit her, weren't worn out, looked good on her and that she actually liked. The 3 hour shopping trip we had this morning was the longest and most successful we have ever had.

Once the clothes were put away, I turned around and looked at the room.

"Oh, Callie! I told you to put the dirty clothes in the laundry basket!" I sighed shaking my head, when I noticed that there was pair of socks on the ground by the end of the bed, along with a dirty shirt. I could have washed them in the last load I had put in. These clothes will have to wait for the next time I do laundry.

I went to pick up the clothes from the ground. When I stood back up, holding the clothes in my hands, I noticed part of paper that stuck out from a notepad that stood on the side of the desk. I could see through the papers other side. And what I saw, did not make me happy. Not at all.

I tucked the clothes, I had picked up, under my left arm and I reached for the paper. Once I pulled the paper out from the notepad, I turned it around. Three was a big, red, circled F written on the corner of the page.

I heard Callie walk out of the bathroom. While she was walking to her room, I scanned over the paper. The moment I heard her walk in the room, I turned around, holding the paper up.

"You got an F in English?" I asked, demanding an explanation for the bad grade in her native language

Callie stood by the doors. Her hair was still a little bit wet. Not dripping wet, but it wasn't dry yet. She looked scared at first. But after a small stare down, her look changed. Callie marched my way with a fierce look in her eyes.

She pulled the paper out of my hand and snapped back at me harshly in accusing tone "You went thought my stuff? I can't believe you!" She walked over to her desk, opened the first book and hid the paper between the books pages.

"That's not the issue here!" I replied following her with my eyes "I want to know how you got an F?" I took the clothes from my underarm and tossed them on Callie's bed for now

"The teacher is stupid! That's how! He's unfair!" Callie shot back crossing her arms on her chest

"You are going to blame the teacher? Really?" I questioned back raising eyebrow at her "It was a book report, Callie!" I gestured to the desk behind her "Did you wrote the book report on a whim? The last night before it was due?"

"No," Callie replied not too convincing as she uncrossed her arms. Her look briefly traveled down and she shifted nervously in her stance.

"Callie?" It was my turn to cross my arms on my chest. I gave her a firm look, telling her that I want the truth this time.

"Fine! Yes!" Callie gave in

"How...why?" I asked gesturing with my hands

"I didn't have time to read the damn book!" she made excuses "Or to write the stupid thing!"

"Between the many chores you have to do during your free time at home and all the parties you go to?" Callie turned her head, avoiding my look, knowing I was right

I don't give Callie chores during school days, unless she's had gotten herself in trouble. But even then, for example, doing dishes doesn't take longer than 20 minutes. She doesn't stay out late. It's rare that she's home later than 6. That still leaves plenty of time to do homework. And it's not like I keep disturbing her, when she does homework. I don't play loud music, I don't have people over, I don't come and talk to her non stop while she tries to study. She has the place and time to do homework undisturbed. That's one of the reasons, why was I disappointed, when I saw the bad grade.

"How much time did you have for the assignment?" I asked, but then clarified "To write the book report?"

"2 weeks," Callie said barely above whisper, still avoiding my look. Her strong front, that she had on for like minute, when I first confrotned her, was gone.

"2 weeks is plenty of time to write a book report. I am assuming, that the teacher gave you more than 2 weeks notice on reading the book. Am I right?"

"Yes," She admitted, briefly looking up to me. But the eye contact was short lived. Callie now tried to make herself look as small as possible. Shoudlers down, she kept her arms to herself, head down.

"Which book?" I asked, wanting to make sure that she actually had the book at home

"Animal Farm,"

My eyes travel to the nightstand. A book "Animal Farm" has been standing on the nightstand for at least a month. She had asked me about it few weeks ago. I remember, how Markus had to read it as well. We have had that book in bookshelf for years now. I have moved that book many times, while I dusted her room.

"Then don't blame the teacher. The grade he gave you is most likely appropriate. Yes?" She nodded her head back

"Have you talked to teacher if you can do anything to fix the bad grade?"

"I haven't asked," Callie replied keeping her look down

"Honestly, Callie, I'm a little disappointed in you," I told her. Callie's head snapped up to me, hearing those words. She started at me, bewildered and guilty. It also, seemed like she was a hurt by my words as well.

"F is unacceptable, Callie! Especially if it's in a subject you previously have had no problem with," I explained so she would understand why I feel that way "I would understand if it was math or physics, where you are still struggling by trying to catch up on the material. But English? You had the book," I briefly glanced to the nightstand, where the book stood "You had 2 weeks to do the assignment, you knew what the teacher expected of you. I don't understand!" I shrugged my shoulders a little, confused by the sudden drop in grade, from B to F

Callie was now standing in front of me, with her head down, too ashamed to look me in the eye. She just stood there and listened to the lecture, without saying anything back.

I closed the distance between us.

"Look at me," I said, but Callie didn't move. So, I put my finger under her chin and softly made her raise her head up, to look me in the eye.

"You are not a F grade student, Callie," I said softly, looking at sad brown eyes "I know you can do better. You are a very smart girl. I believe in you! If you ever are having trouble with homework, you can always come to me. Like the time you came to me with your physics problem," I paused to let that sink in "I'm here for you. I can help you, but I can't do it, if you don't let me,"

"I'm sorry,"

"You don't have to apologize," I said taking my hand away from her chin and tucking some hair behind her ear. Callie still had that look in her eyes – that look that she got, when I told her that I was disappointed in her. I think it stuck with her, more than it should.

"Listen," I placed both of my hands on her shoulders "There will be times, when I will be disappointed in you. There could be a time, when I'm angry with you, because of something you did. Or quite the opposite, when you are angry with me. We could be arguing with each other over some stupid stuff or we could be disagreeing about something. Maybe one day you will think of me as an overprotecting and just plain annoying, but I will find you irritating," I smirked at her "But one thing will never change,"

Callie frowned her face up in confusion as she tried to think what it was.

I moved my hands to the side of her neck, thumbs resting on her cheeks "How I feel about you!"

"So even now, when I'm disappointed in you about your grade - I still care about you. And nothing – no argument, no disagreement, no matter how angry we are with each other, no matter what happens between us - nothing will ever change that!" I explained

I placed a kiss on her forehead, grabbed the clothes I had picked up before and left the room, allowing Callie to think about everything that was said.

March 13th

I was sitting in the armchair in the living room. My feet were up to the coffee table, I had my laptop over my legs. I was reading the material I had to read to pass the online class for single parenting that Sydney Fields had 'recommended' for me.

Callie was sitting on the couch. Her legs were up on the couch as well, turned to one side. She was leaned at the armrest on her left. The young girl was reading her English book "Animal Farm". Her teacher had given her a week to rewrite the book report, which was very generous of him, knowing that usually teachers don't allow to rewrite essays and books reports, only tests.

It took my about 10 minutes to realize, that not once, since she sat down on the couch to read the book, had I heard her turn a page. The book was opened somewhere in half. While her eyes were fixated down on the book, it seemed as if she was looking pass the book. Like she was deep in her thoughts. I doubt she has read a single paragraph.

My eyes traveled to the part of the book cover that I saw. I saw part of title. Her fingers covered partly the authors name and the pink pig that was on the cover.

My mind flashed back to last August, when my former partner Matt and I were called to the scene, where I met the girl. When we had arrived we found a young girl smashing the windshield of a jeep, a young man was laying on the ground moaning in pain, his mother was aiding for him, but the father was trying to talk the girl down.

When we had finally handled the situation, I remember walking in the house for a quick look around. The father – Lucas Olmsted – had told me, which room was hers. I had walked in the room and looked around, searching for anything that could cause a girl to snap like that. Sometimes drugs or alcohol could be the cause. Nothing in the room caught my attention. But I do remember seeing a book at the end of the bed. Out of curiosulty, I had walked up to it, to see what she had been reading.

My eyes snapped to Callie, when I remembered, what book she had read that day - Animal Farm.

I can't believe it took me this long to realize that it was all connected.

The book certainly had connections back to the Olmsted house. She had been reading the book, before she attacked her foster brother and destroyed his car. I wasn't sure if it went any deeper than that, but the fact that she had been reading it, shortly before she snapped, was enough for me to worry. What if she can't read the book, not because she doesn't like or doesn't want to, but because it brought back some bad memories, something she did, or something someone did to her. What if it was like a trigger for her? She hasn't turned a single page, she looks like she is zoned out and she has a troubled facial expression on, alsmot as if she was reliving or flashing back to an traumatic event in her mind.

"Callie?" I said trying to get her attention. But there was none. I don't think she heard me.

I reached for the screen of my laptop and closed it shut. My eyes were focused on the girl on the couch, who still hasn't turned a single page. I took my feet of the coffee table and placed the laptop on the coffee table instead.

I stood up and walked over to Callie. She didn't even look up at me. She didn't acknowledge me standing in front of her.

I crouched down to her, so that our eyes could be on the same level and so that I don't seem as intimidating. Slowly reached for the book. When I had pulled on the book a little bit, to take it out of her hands, Callie's finally reacted. She raised her head up bit and looked at me. Her eyes wide, like I had surprised her. Yet at the same time, I could see how much the memories, she had just now relived, had affected her. Fear. Nothing but fear in her eyes.

I continued with the action and carefully pulled the book out of her hands. Without closing it, I put it down on the table. After that, I turned my full attention back to the girl. I took her hands in mine and gently squeezed her hands, so she could feel me. Callie's look traveled down to our hands, but then she looked up to my eyes.

"You can trust me," I told her softly in a whisper "Let me help you,"

Callie tilted her head down, her look distant and thoughtful. Whatever secret she was keeping to herself, I could tell, it was getting to her.

You can call it a gut feeling or a mothers intuition, but I couldn't get the feeling out of my mind, that it had something to do with her former foster brother Liam. The way she had called out "What about what you did to me!?" that day, made me fear the worse. All her anger that day was turned towards Liam. Whatever he did - must have been bad.

Then came a small, wobly voice that confirmed my worst fear "He forced me to have sex with him,"

"Who did?" I asked to clarifity, to make sure I was thinking and she was speaking about the same person. I moved my thumbs gently over her top of the palm, just so she would feel me still holding her hands, still comforting her. I hoped that it also gave her some strenght and courage.

Callie looked staright to my eyes. Her eyes were filled with saddness. All I wanted to do, was to take away the emotional pain from the young girl. It hurt to see her like this. My lower lip quivered a little, but I had vowed to myself to stay strong for her.

"Liam!" Callie whispered out