Author's note:

Well, well, well, 4 years now. It's so hard to comprehend... 4 whole years of this story. I still can't believe it's blown up this much, or that y'all have stuck around so long. What are you guys gonna do when it ends? (inevitably, lol) It baffles me how many chapters I pushed out within the first year... I was gonna correct you and say it wasn't 3 years ago that Ben/Yaz had that secret going... Feels like it shouldn't be 3 years, but you're right. I remember ranting to my coworkers about it... Still my finest achievement, lol.

We've had... 2 years? worth of sad, tormenting chapters. 8 really, including this one... I'll try to find ways to sneak happy, fluffy moments in. Me, you all, and the characters all need some light and fun during this hard time, especially the characters... I'll find a way to give them some love during this time.

Parts of this chapter were hard to write. No warnings, I think... Just everyone dealing with the fallout of this. (Not very well, tbh)

Oh, any legal advice or proceedings from this chapter on are not realistic. I have a vague sort of idea of how the court system works. (At least in London... long story) But for the most part, I'm making it up. Anyone who wants to say "Hey, that's not realistic, the courts/police/prison system doesn't work like that!" I know. I'm well aware. Moving on.

I don't know when the next chapter will come out... Still don't know what it'll be called or what it's about. Stay tuned for that one.

Enjoy!

Her right leg bounces up and down nervously. Her heart beat painfully in her chest. Anxiety and dark thoughts churn in her mind and stomach, like she had become a washing machine and was cycling a load of horrible feelings.

Why did she have such a habit of wrecking her life? Of wrecking everyone's lives?

"I f*ed up… God, I really f*ed up," she exhales shakily.

How did she get here? What was the series of events that led her to this state? How did she not see this coming?

Yasmina had always been one to make dark jokes. It was always humourous to her to poke light at dark themes like abuse and death. It wasn't that she couldn't take them seriously. She often made jokes about her own trauma. Dark humor was partly her personality and partly a way to cope with her trauma.

Had that been the start? Did her own way of coping with things desensitize her to the point where she could take another life?

Or maybe it was the island… Maybe it was seeing death so up close and personal that desensitized her.

Or maybe it was her innate desire to protect her loved ones.

Yasmina crosses her legs, bouncing her knee. For someone who considered herself to be a loner, she sure did need people. She needed someone to protect. Ben was right. Without a job to do… Without someone to protect, she felt useless. She felt like a waste of space and resources. She was only worth something if she was protecting or taking care of someone. Anything, as long as she was channeling her energy into being selfless…

So how could she be so selfish as to do this? To put her family in this situation?

Yasmina gets to her feet and hobbles to her dresser. Leaning against it, she takes a good look in the mirror. How did she become this person? How did she turn into someone she loathed so much? Why had she never loved the person staring back at her…

She had never really loved herself. How could she be so self-destructive and love the girl in the mirror? She didn't, and she never had. And Yasmina didn't know if she ever could now…

Harsh words and descriptions start assaulting her mind. Her thoughts turned against her. Not that they were on her side to begin with.

Overwhelmed, Yasmina grabs one of her many notebooks and starts writing them down as they come. "Murderer. Psychopath. Selfish. Insane. Reckless. Never thinking about anyone but myself. Always causing trouble. Self-destructive. Taking risks. Destroying myself and my family. A criminal. Dirty. Worthless. Unforgivable."

She stares down at the list in tears. It was no different from how she had always felt…

Yasmina wanted to be a different person. She didn't like who she saw in the mirror. She hated who she had become.

She holds the notebook up, looking over the words. "God… This is who I've been. You know that… I'm a horrible sinner, but you've forgiven me, anyways… I don't know how you can. I can't forgive myself…"

She wanted to change. She wanted to be a better person. "I don't know how to change… But hey, I'm Christian now. Something I never thought I'd be. If anyone can change me, you can… Please… change me into the woman you want me to be…"

Tears welled up in her bloodshot eyes. "I hate myself. I hate who I've become… I'm so destructive… I hate who I am… Please… change me. Change me how you want. I'm a mess… But I'm yours now…"

Ultimately, her attempt on Leah's life was an attempt to be worth something. Brooklynn's suicide attempt hit her hard… She hadn't known how to deal with it, so she channeled her pain into the only thing she could do: protect. Except when the threat was internal… When Brooklynn was her biggest enemy… When it was her own thoughts attacking her, Yasmina had nothing to fight…

But Leah and Blizzard. They were tangible threats she could channel her anger towards. It wasn't really defense… No matter how much pain they caused Brooklynn, they weren't actively threatening her in the moment. Yasmina had no defense against her actions. It would be second degree attempted murder, at best. She had no way to argue defense. Perhaps she could plead insanity…

She was going to jail. No, prison. Prison was where attempted murderers went. She was a criminal. A criminal.

Her gag reflex is triggered, and Yasmina presses her hand to her mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. She feels nauseous, and carefully sits down on her bed again. She and Ben had returned to her house and in the presence of her parents and Mrs. Bowman, they had explained all that they knew. How they found both videos and their connection to Leah. How the footage had destroyed Yasmina's psyche. How thinking about revenge and killing Leah and Blizzard was the only way Yasmina could have some sort of semblance of sanity. How her mind justified it all. How she ended up with Leah beneath her knife, and why she didn't take the killing blow… And the aftermath with Leah's parents, then Ben finding her.

She laid it all at her parents feet. And a part of it felt freeing.

Her parents had been conflicted. A bit shocked. A bit angry. A bit fearful. A little bit of everything.

But mostly overwhelmed.

Yasmina had been sent to her room. Confined to it. Her prosthetic had been confiscated. Not that it was much help in its broken state… The adults talked alone. Her mother kept raising her voice… Her mother rarely raised her voice for anything serious…

Yasmina hated herself for putting them in this situation, on top of everything else they had to deal with. Just once, could she leave well enough alone…

Her parents had tasked Ghaleb with distracting the younger kids. Jabari and Habeeba had been informed about Brooklynn's condition, but not about Yasmina. They would hold off on telling them until they had some sort of an idea about how to proceed forward. Yasmina hoped they would be told before she was arrested… That would be traumatic enough for her siblings to see on its own, but if they were unprepared…

Leah's parents and Brooklynn's mother were scheduled to come over to their house and the group would discuss matters. Matters being how to proceed with Blizzard, Leah, and Yasmina… What to be prepared for and what to do. Blizzard was the main antagonist in this situation, having harmed both Brooklynn and Leah, and countless other girls. But Leah had a part in pushing Brooklynn over the edge… If Brooklynn dies, it is likely Leah would be charged with murder. Which degree would depend on what Leah's intentions were…

And then Yasmina had to join the picture. Leah wouldn't let her attempt go unpunished… If Leah was going to prison, she was going to take Yasmina with her. And Yasmina genuinely didn't think she could get out of this one… Leah's intentions with the video could be argued into a lesser sentence. Yasmina holding a knife to her throat was a little harder to argue with…

And it was possible Blizzard could get a light slap on the wrist. It wasn't unheard of… It was unfair, but people like him often weren't punished as hard as they should be…

It was entirely possible that she could get a longer sentence than both of them.

Her stomach was a horrible knot of nerves. Prison was a daunting, horrifying thought for a sixteen year old girl… All the life she would miss… What would her sentence be? Say she got five years? And that was being generous… She would be twenty-one when she got out. Sammy, too. Kenji would be twenty-two. Ghaleb would be twenty-three. Darius and Jabari would be seventeen. Ben would be eighteen. Habeeba would be fourteen. Her unborn sibling would be five years old. If Brooklynn survived, she'd be nineteen!

Life would continue on without her. She'd miss so many important moments in her own life and the lives of her loved ones. Graduation. Birthdays. Prom. The birth of her sibling. And then what? When she got out? She'd have to rejoin society, and that was difficult in a lot of ways for inmates. What job would she get? She wouldn't have even finished her education! And with such a horrible crime on her record, where would she get hired?!

And how would her friends cope? If Brooklynn were to survive, how would she take this? Would that shatter her already fragile state of mind? Maybe she'd be fine when she woke up, but if Yasmina was in prison? Would that push her overboard? Finding out Yasmina was in prison because of Brooklynn? Would Yasmina be her thirteenth reason why?

How would Darius react? He was already going overboard with protecting his friends. How would he take prison? Her being locked up with other criminals? His mind and anxiety would explode!

And what about Kenji? His breakup with Sammy had already crushed him. His texts to her… He practically begged her to stop. To not kill Leah. If she went to prison, it would be like losing another friend, on top of Sammy and Brooklynn…

And Sammy? The Mom friend? She'd be worried sick! After all the drama with Kenji, and then Brooklynn, and then to top it all off, Yasmina? She couldn't do that to her best friend…

And what about Ben? She'd assume he would be fine. He was stable with God… But that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt him deeply.

Their PTSD was awful when they were states away. Heck, sometimes it was awful when they were mere miles away. How would they fare if she was in prison for years on end?

How would she fare with prison? She was going to be there! What would that be like? Without her friends and family, would that mess her up? She knew she was already mentally messed up, and she wasn't even including the trauma from the island. For goodness sake, she just attempted murder! Now she was going to end up isolated in a cell, or locked up with other inmates? Away from her support group?

And what about her family? That would be one more crushing blow to her siblings. To think she was dead, then fight to get her back from the island. They moved just for her. And now this? Would this financially burden or ruin her parents? Would all this mental strain make her mother miscarry her baby?

At the very least, Yasmina forced them to move closer to a better support group… And at least if she was in prison, she couldn't mess anything else up for them…

This was singlehandedly the worst thing she had ever done, and there was absolutely no way she could make things better.

Well… There was one thing she could do…

She gets down on the floor, awkwardly on her knees and bows her head in prayer. "God, I messed up big time," she sniffed. "You already know that… Thanks for stopping me, though. That definitely would've made things ten times worse. A part of me still wishes I had gone through with it, and I know I shouldn't feel that way… But you know how messed up I am…"

Yasmina wipes away her tears, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. "I'm very, very glad you don't base your forgiveness on our behavior because I'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble… Well, I'd be there."

She starts laughing, feeling insane, but it was the only thing that would come out. Fear had weird responses… "God, I'm scared." More laughter. "I'm really scared…"

Her laughter spell subsides. "You're in control. I know Ben says you don't put us through hell. You're a loving God and you want the best for us… I just… I don't know how you're going to fix this. This is the biggest mess I've ever made. This is so bad… I don't know how you'll fix it… But I do know you're the only one that can."

She wipes her nose on her sleeve. "God… can I ask for something? I know I've messed up, but… I think you want the same thing as me. I know where I'm going. I'm good with you, even though I don't deserve it. You've forgiven me, but people? The authorities? I deserve the consequences of my actions… I don't care what happens to me. I really don't. I'm going to be with you in the end, and I deserve whatever I go through down here. I'll deal with prison. I'll deal with it all. I deserve it, and I have you…

"Please, just let this outcome be the best for my family and friends. They've been through enough already. I've put them through enough already. Just make the easiest thing for them happen. I don't care about myself. I deserve what I get… Just please… The best for my loved ones…"

Yasmina slouches. "Help Brooklynn. I know you love her more than I could ever love her, and that's so hard to fathom. You don't want this for her… I know you love her. There's no way you would put her through that but show me loving forgiveness… I know this isn't what you want for her… Please don't let death win. She doesn't know you. Just give her another chance, please… Don't let her go down there…

"And my family. My family doesn't know you… And a lot of them would rather not. I know Mom would resist you at all costs. Ghaleb and Jabari, too… Habeeba might be more open to you. I don't know about my Dad… Kenji, too. He needs you. They all need you. They're all closed off more or less… But you changed me, so only you can do it. I know you want them to find you… Just get through to them however you can."

Yasmina climbs up onto her bed, checking out a few songs Ben texted her. One in particular he said reminded him of her. God brought it to mind before he came into Brooklynn's room… Before she finally accepted Jesus. It was called East to West…

Yasmina played it on loop for hours, memorizing every part. If she was going to be in prison with her freedom restricted, she wanted this memorized. Some parts were easy to relate to and accept. The parts about being a sinner and being unable to bear the woman she once was come rising up again. But some parts were harder to accept. Like the parts about forgiveness. A small part of her still couldn't comprehend it… Surely, she had messed up so bad she couldn't be forgiven. Surely, she had to earn at least some of it…

But no, she was told she couldn't earn it and didn't have to. And thank God for that…

Around 6 o'clock, she can hear guests arrive. Well, more specifically, their husky puppy making a racket before being confined to her parents bedroom. Yasmina turns off her phone, but stays put. She wasn't sure what her parents wanted her to do.

Her step-father opens the door. "They're here," he says, his deep voice solemn.

"Do you want me to stay out of this?" she asks quietly.

"No. No… I think you should be present for this," he shakes his head. "And, um… Leah is here. So stay calm."

Her heart beat faster, anxiety making her hands tremble. But she kept calm and nodded.

Her father put his arm around her and helped her hobble to the living room. Yasmina figured he was helping her rather than giving her her crutches so that it would be harder for her to lunge at Leah.

He severely underestimated her abilities, if she wanted to attack Leah. But Yasmina was not the one they had to worry about.

As soon as Leah laid eyes on Yasmina, it was as if Yasmina had stabbed her. Leah's eyes widened and she backed up into her father. "What is she doing here?! Keep her away! Keep her away!"

Yasmina's breath stops. Her pupils dilate. Leah is a poisonous snake, coiled and ready to strike. Her words are garbled and scratchy, her movements are wild and dangerous. Danger. She's dangerous!

No, Leah is Medusa! She turned Yasmina into stone! Her leg is made of stone. Her arms are petrified. Her breath is slowing down. Soon, she'd be completely made of stone! Because she looked Leah in the eyes!

Her father's broad back slides into view, blocking the murderous snake. But the damage was done. Yasmian's eyes become glossy, and her lungs refuse to expand further than half an inch. She's overwhelmed with panic, but her body refuses to move in anyway.

"Help! Dad, help me!" she cries, but the words don't come out.

He turns around finally, and she tries to convey her desperation. She couldn't breathe! She couldn't move! It was like sleep paralysis while awake!

He doesn't get her message and guides her into the living room. Her foot obeys him.

He guides her to the floor, but the hard wood is a painful, cold sensation. Her mouth is dry, and her limbs are deadweight. Leah is in front of her, a coiled, still monster.

Words. Someone was speaking. There's ringing in her ears.

Ringing all around her… Her vision goes to… nothing. No black. No void. Just… nothing.

Where was she? She couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't feel her body. She couldn't move. There was nothing to move!

Her vision starts to appear, but it seems to be swimming. Voices start to cut through the ringing. "Get a lawyer… Don't speak… without a lawyer present…"

The voices disappear again, as does her vision. Yasmina dettaches again, any sensation from her body fading. She was floating through a void of nothing.

"God! Bring me back! What is going on?!"

Her voice seems to echo around her.

"God, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Why did I do this? Why did I try to kill her? God, forgive me!"

"For what?"

That voice again. The same one that told her not to kill Leah. Yasmina had argued with it, but this time, she welcomed it. "For trying to kill her. For disobeying you. For being reckless and harmful and… For being me."

"I remember not what you've done."

Something was touching her shoulders, rubbing them gently.

"God… I'm scared."

"I'm with you."

She can feel her shoulders now, gently being massaged. Feeling starts to progress through her body and her vision returns. The ringing in her ears subsides. Her breathing becomes easier and more fulfilling. She felt drained of energy and shaky, but she was grounded in her body again.

"AaaaWOOOO!"

Their husky complaining about her prison fully immerses Yasmina in the world around her. Leah is sitting on the couch between her parents. Yasmina is on the floor by the TV, and her father is sitting in a chair behind her, rubbing her shoulders. Her mother and Brooklynn's mother sat off to the side in kitchen chairs, while Darius's mother paced in between the parties.

"You guys and Stephanie will report to the police what Blizzard did to Brooklynn and Leah," Darius's mother says, and Yasmina turns her attention to the conversation. "You'll turn in the footage you have of him."

"But then—" Leah starts to argue.

"You received the footage of countless girls from him and didn't report it to the police," Mrs. Bowman sternly stops her. "At best, you're complacent in this. Turn in her phone and devices with the footage on it and let them examine the evidence. After that, don't speak without a lawyer present. You're bringing a report against Blizzard, but also dealing with your daughter's involvement. She has the right to remain silent, and you should, too."

Leah looks queasy and wasn't handling the idea of prison well.

Mrs. Bowman sighs. "And that leaves Yasmina."

Leah's parents look sick as well. "We don't really want to bring charges against your daughter," Mrs. Jaakobah sighs.

"Mom!" Leah protests.

"You're not bringing charges, you're just filing a police report," Mrs. Bowman states.

"God, what do I do? I don't trust my own judgment…" Yasmina prays internally.

"Don't resist it," that gentle voice says.

Yasmina obeys. "I won't resist," she speaks up.

"You… won't?" Leah hisses, distrust heavy in her voice and eyes.

"I deserve whatever consequences I have coming," Yasmina admits.

"Yes, you do," Leah snapped before her father sternly put his hand on her shoulder.

"Yasmina," her mother says, a warning and a plea.

"I won't resist," Yasmina repeats.

"You're just doing that because you think coming clean will help you!" Leah snapped, receiving another stern warning from her father.

"What happens if you plead guilty?" Yasmina asks.

"Well, you'd get a faster sentencing and we might be able to negotiate your sentence," Mrs. Bowman explains. "But then you won't have a trial and can't prove your innocence."

"Yasmina, hold on a second," her father says, squeezing her shoulders.

"Plead guilty. Be honest," the Lord instructs.

"I'll plead guilty," she decides.

"We should probably discuss your options," Mrs. Bowman says.

"I did it," Yasmina states. "I think there's too much evidence. I can't prove I didn't do it when I did. And if I can't prove my innocence, at least let me make the process faster for you guys." She glanced up at her parents.

Darius's mother sighs. "We'll discuss it later."

"Grace, you don't have to do this," Mrs. Fadoula murmurs.

Mrs. Bowman waves her off, taking on Yasmina's case. "Right now it would be best for you guys to turn in the evidence and file a police report," she turns back to the Jaakobahs. "And get a lawyer. Don't say anything without a lawyer. Stephanie, I can come with you to file a report for Brooklynn."

Brooklynn's mother seemed to be just as spacey as Yasmina was. Blinking, she shook her head. "Oh, yeah."

The others head out, leaving the Fadoula's to talk. Anxiety rises as Yasmina looks up at her parents.

The house looms in front of him, feeling haunted and abandoned. Brooklynn's attempted suicide stained the whole house, as if she was already haunting it as a spirit. Maybe she was… Maybe she'd never return to her body…

And Milton would have to enter it alone.

His mother had dropped him off and headed somewhere else. She didn't say where or when she'd come back.

All she did was leave him.

Milton probably deserved it. Being abandoned at their house… where she did it…

He did not want to go in. He did not want to see it again. Not her room. Not the bathroom. Not anywhere in the place.

But he had to at least get his dog…

He breathes deeply. "Just go in, get Scooter, and get out. He'll want to walk. You can just… walk."

Steeling himself, he steps onto the front porch and tries the doorknob.

It opens. Guess the police didn't lock it on their way out.

He steps in and is immediately overwhelmed by the events of the previous night. Memories of him and Clementia rushing in, checking the whole house for Brooklynn come back… He searched everywhere for her… She was gone. Her room was a mess… He figured somebody had come and gotten her…

Their house had become a crime scene overnight… The initial investigation of the scene was wrapped up a few hours earlier. There wasn't much to investigate, to be honest… They had the drugs and letters… It was a suicide attempt, plain and simple. What else would they have to check for…

The kitchen was a mess. White powder was everywhere. His mothers bathroom and Brooklynn's room would be ransacked.

He inhales shakily. "Get in, get out…"

Stepping lightly through the traces of powder, he makes his way up the stairs and tries to sneak past her room. The smell of vomit hits him, almost making him heave. He chances a look into her room and freezes. Crusty bile was smeared all over her carpet. Her desk was practically turned inside out. The drapes were still drawn shut.

There she was, sitting at her desk. Her phone was held to her ear, that stupid lovesick smile plastered on her face. She was there.

And then she was gone.

He jumps, tripping over his feet to get away. He falls back and slams into the wall, crumbling to his knees. Her smile was so fake. She faked it. She faked it! She wanted him to go! She lied to him! How did he not notice it?! Why didn't he see through her attempt?! He should've! He should've, but he didn't, and now she is gone!

Sobbing, he crawls backwards, her room dark and looming in front of him. That was the last time he saw her… When she lied about calling Darius. That was the last time he saw her before he… abandoned her. He abandoned her. She needed help and he just left.

"I wasn't encouraging you to go just for my plan…"

"I lied and tried to make you leave…"

Yeah, and it worked. She lied to him and it worked. He was manipulated too easily into leaving her alone. He should've stayed. He should've waited for their mother! His date could've waited!

"Is… everything okay?" Clementia asked, resting her chin on her hand.

"Yeah…" he hesitated. "Just… my sister can't be left alone."

"Brooklynn, right?" she reaffirmed.

"Yeah, she… she's really depressed and kinda attempted suicide on the island," he explained, not really wanting to get into his sister's history while on a date. She got so much attention and filled his life already… But try as he might, Milton just couldn't shake this horrible, gut-filling anxiety… "We can't leave her alone. Just in case she tries to kill herself again."

"Is she alone right now?" she asked.

"No, well… She shouldn't be," he admitted. Quickly, he explained himself. "Mom called her. She was five minutes from home before her phone died. I was going to be late to see you, but she was on the phone with her best friend! He wouldn't let her do anything. She should be fine."

"But… you're not one hundred percent sure?" Clementia frowned.

"I just… my stomach isn't settled, that's all," he said. But he knew. Something was wrong, and he couldn't ignore it.

"Maybe we should just head back to your house," she suggested before he could. "We can continue the date at your house and just make sure she's safe."

"Yeah, I think…"

His phone buzzed. It was Darius. "Where are you? Brooklynn isn't answering her calls."

Milton typed out his response, and asked if Darius had heard anything. But he knew. Something had happened. Something wasn't right.

"She's not answering," he jumped to his feet after Brooklynn doesn't pick up.

"Let's go, then," Clementia grabbed her keys.

If only he had reacted sooner… If only he hadn't gone… If only…

If only.

Her open door looms in front of him, the stench getting stronger. His stomach twisted and turned, trying to escape the pain.

Scooter barks from his room.

Blinking, he forces himself to his feet and practically throws himself into his room, thankful to get away from her room.

Except he'd have to pass by it to leave…

His dog whines again, and Milton lets him out, receiving a sloppy greeting before the dog immediately scratches at the door.

Milton stands and freezes. Brooklynn stared right back at him, her green eyes filled with terror.

Startling, he looks again. It was his mirror. It was his own eyes staring back at him, dark circles beneath them. His freckles were a contrast compared to his sickly pale skin.

Since when had he and Brooklynn looked so similar? Why did he look like she did in the hospital…

His dog howling breaks his thoughts.

Milton and Scooter race down the stairs. His dog immediately runs to the water bowl, slopping it down thirstily.

"Yeah, you've been in your crate since Clem put you back in…" he mumbles, picking up the food bowl. While he had called his parents and eventually Brandon's mother, Clementia had taken out the dog to relieve himself. It had been one less thing for him to worry about… But that was probably the last time his dog had been tended to. He doubted the police had done anything with Scooter. He was starving and desperately thirsty.

The German shepherd, Aussie mix scarfed down his food and water while Milton gathered a leash and doggy bags. He did not want to be in this house. Not where Brooklynn attempted. Everytime he closed his eyes, she was there.

When Scooter was finished, Milton leashed him up and left the house, locking it on the way out. He aimlessly wanders the neighborhood, letting his dog lead wherever he wants to sniff.

"I left her alone… It was ME who gave her the opportunity to kill herself," his thoughts say, going over and over it.

What had been his last words? Was it teasing?

It didn't matter. Even if his words had been a heartfelt confession, they couldn't make up for the fact that he left her.

If she died, he'd have to live with this for the rest of his life.

Even if she made it, he'd still have to live knowing she could've died because of him. And no matter how much she begged him not to in her letter, he couldn't let go of the guilt. He was going to blame himself for this. How could he not?!

He had been walking for over an hour, but Milton still continued. Guilt had become a ravenous beast, lodged inside him. He tried to bury it, but it squirmed like a horrible snake. He tried to let it out with tears, but it only tore him apart. No matter what he did, guilt was a monster eating away at his insides, trying to chomp its way out. It was going to destroy him. And Milton had no idea how to stop it.

He could see her. He kept seeing her in the woods! In the windows! Passing by him, but when he would look, she was never there.

"Did she die? Did she die?!" he starts to panic. "Am I seeing her ghost?! Is she going to haunt me for the rest of my life?!"

He had always heard that ghosts stayed on earth and haunted places or people because they had unfinished business. Was Brooklynn unable to leave because of him?!

Scooter was tired, so Milton stepped into the local park and tied the leash to a bench. He begins to pace in the dying sunlight. "Brook, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he desperately apologizes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you! I thought you were okay! YOU promised me you were okay! You were talking to Darius! I thought you were talking to Darius! Were you? Did you lie about that?! Did you?! You went to great lengths to convince me that you were fine, it's not my fault!"

A heavy sob shudders out of him. "I didn't mean to hurt you…

"God, I'm so sorry. No wonder Darius and the others didn't trust me… God, I'm sorry…"

He lifts his head, raising his eyes to the sky as it darkens. "I didn't mean to hurt her… I never meant to hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. Not truly. Not even when I'm really mad. God…"

Was he… talking to God?

So what? Didn't Brooklynn's friends believe in God? Darius, Ben, and Sammy? Weren't they praying? Wouldn't they pray for Brooklynn? Where was their God now?

"Where were you?" Milton hisses at the sky. "You're supposed to be all powerful! You're supposed to answer prayers! Where were you?! Why didn't you save her?! Why did you let her get this far?! Why did you let me go?!"

Guilt rears its ugly head. "I hate myself…" he whimpers. "I just want to have a normal life. I just want normal parents who love me… A normal date life… I want a life that doesn't revolve around my sister… I swear, I didn't mean to kill her… I didn't want to kill her! I don't want my life to revolve around her, but I don't want her dead, I swear!"

For hours upon hours, he stands there in the park, arguing with God and himself. Apologizing and apologizing to Brooklynn. No matter what he does or says, guilt continues to gnaw at his insides, eating him alive. He was starting to appreciate the deaths of those on Isla Nublar…

Finally, he checks his phone. It was two in the morning. He had been out there since about six o'clock.

He sits next to Scooter, numbly petting his dog. He couldn't go back home. Not alone. He couldn't stand to be in there. She was all around him there.

He couldn't escape Brooklynn no matter where he went…

How much longer would this go on?! How long would guilt eat him?! How long would it take before he was a hollow shell? Devoured by his own fateful decisions? It was a little over twenty-four hours since she had attempted! He couldn't stand this!

"Will this be my life?!" he begins to panic.

His phone rings. Mrs. Bowman. "Milton, I hope I didn't disturb your sleep or anything."

"No, I can't sleep…" he stutters out, on the verge of tears again.

"I hear you," she sighs. "Your Mom and I finally finished up at the police station. Are you at your house right now?"

"No…" Milton chokes out. "I can't be there. I can't be in there, man…"

"Where are you now?"

"In the park. Scooter needed a walk and I needed to get out of there."

"Okay, good. Stay out of the house. It's not exactly safe. It's a biohazard right now. Tomorrow we'll get a cleaning company to come by. I'm coming to pick you up. You and your Mom are staying at my house tonight."

"No, no!" Milton shudders. "Darius will kill me for this!"

"Darius and Brandon are staying with the Pincus's tonight," Mrs. Bowman explains. "Look, you can't stay at your house right now and I'm not leaving you alone. I'm sorry for forgetting about you. A lot has happened and I thought… I thought someone else had you. Just hang tight. I'm coming to get you."

"Okay…" he mumbles, swallowing the huge lump in his throat. It was a relief to have someone notice his pain. To apologize for abandoning him. To come pick him up and tell him he wouldn't be alone.

But his relief only made the guilt sting even more. Because he hadn't extended Brooklynn the same courtesy…

Mrs. Fadoula turns away from Yasmina and begins putting the chairs back. Yasmina sits as still as she can, terrified to make one wrong move. Even her step-father seems hesitant to speak or move, watching his wife bustle about the living room.

Their husky howls again, and her mother releases the furry menace from her bedroom. She does so silently and calmly, without any shushing or annoyance, even as the puppy tries to gnaw on her hands. She was eerily calm and silent…

Yasmina holds out her hand, warding off the puppy without taking her eyes off of her mother.

It's the calm before the storm. A very, very big storm… Yasmina had never feared her mother. She could get mad and raise her voice, but only for silly disputes or when she was pissed off. But for serious situations? Her mother shut down. She went silent and deferred to her husband, a constant between both marriages. She was submissive. Passive, even, when things got serious.

But now? Now she was different. She was silent. But it wasn't a passive silence. It was like a pot sitting on the stove. Just because it was quiet, doesn't mean it wasn't boiling. It just hadn't started to bubble yet…

Yasmina looks up at her step-father, who wears a similar look of worry.

"My grandfather's knife?" her mother asks with a calmness that freaked Yasmina out. "The one he devoted to revenge?" She clicked her tongue. "Fitting."

And the pot was bubbling… Next it would be boiling over, scalding Yasmina with hot water. But she couldn't pull her hand away…

Her mother chuckles softly, and Yasmina wants to run. "I have so many questions…"

She wants to run…

"Like how did we get here?"

She wants to run, but she can't. She can't get away. She can't physically leave. And she can't escape it if she tries…

"I…" her mother stutters and falls silent for a moment. Yasmina and her step-father wait anxiously for her, afraid to do anything. "How… did we get… into such a mess?" she slowly asks, facing the kitchen. "I mean, I thought… Last night, I thought Ghaleb and Jabari were our biggest problem, and now…"

Yasmina's hands tremble. What did her brothers do? What did she add onto her mother?

"And now you, now… now you've… you've gone and…" her stuttering gets worse. The pot was boiling…

"Yasmina, I don't know what to do with you," her mother starts chuckling.

The lid was dancing, the water was about to boil over.

"Ayishah," her step-father speaks, trying to lift the lid before things spill over.

"Don't!" Mrs. Fadoula snaps, making Yasmina jolt. "Don't defend her!"

"Honey, please… breathe," he says softly. He holds his hands out slightly in defense, an alarming sight from such a big guy.

"No, don't you side with her! Don't you dare side with her!" she points her finger in his face. "I have been patient with her! I have been understanding! I have tried to work with her through her stubbornness and-and recklessness and destructive moments! I am her mother! Don't tell me to be quiet, don't tell me to shut up! I am her mother!"

Tears prickle in Yasmina's eyes. The pot was boiling over and now her step-father was scalding himself instead of her…

"I'm not telling you to be quiet, I'm just saying breathe," he tries to explain.

"Don't tell me how to handle her! She's not yours!" her harsh words shut him up.

"Mom!" Yasmina cries, her voice breaking. "Stop!"

"Stop? Stop?! If you had stopped, we wouldn't be here in the first place!" her mother rounded on her. "Why didn't you stop?! Why did you do this in the first place?!"

"I'm sorry!"

"ArrOOO!"

"SHUT UP—Do you have any idea of what you've done?!"

"I do!"

"And you still did it?!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Stop saying that!" her mother snarls as her husband drags the dog outside. "Stop saying 'I'm sorry'! It doesn't do anything! That's not going to fix this! That's not going to help us! Say you're sorry all you want, but we're still here!"

"I know…" Yasmina pulls her legs in close.

"Why? Why? Why? Why?" her mother rants. "Why did you do this? On top of everything else?"

"I wanted to help…" she cries.

"How is this helping?!" her mother yells.

"I don't know!" Yasmina shouts back. "I just wanted to do something! My friend is dying and I can't do anything!" She lowers her voice to a pitiful blubber. "And I thought maybe killing her enemies would help her. I thought it would make up for hurting her. I just wanted to be of some use and, and, it's the only thing I know how to do. Violence is the only thing I'm good at. I just wanted to help…"

Her mother relents, pacing the living room and rubbing her pregnant stomach. Sighing, she stops, resting both hands on her stomach. "How did I fail so hard as a mother?"

Yasmina half coughs, half sobs. Those words felt like a knife stabbing her heart. "I'm sorry, Mom…"

Her mother begins to cry, too. "I messed up somewhere. My daughter's trying to kill people. Both my son's are watching pornography. Where-where did I mess up?"

Yasmina sniffs pathetically, unable to meet her mother's eyes.

"I don't try to be much," she continues. "A mother and a wife. That's all I try to be. A good mother and a good wife. And maybe a good friend if I can. Keep the house clean, take care of the kids, drive everyone everywhere… Somewhere in there I messed up."

"Ayishah, you're not a bad mother or wife," her step-father says, returning without the dog.

She half laughs, half sobs. "Then why are we here?" she gestures to Yasmina. "I f*ed up the family somewhere!"

"I'm sorry, Mom…" Yasmina apologizes again, wishing she could say it enough.

"So you're willing to go to great lengths for Brooklynn, but did you think about your family?" her mother asks, digging the knife in deeper. "Did you think you could get away with it? Did you think we would help?"

"I didn't think that far ahead…" Yasmina lies, not wanting to admit that she didn't care if she went to prison or not…

"Of course you didn't!" her mother snaps, making her flinch. "You didn't think! No, you did not think! There was no thinking involved in this! There's never any thinking involved with you! Just do, do, do! Whatever half baked thought comes into our head we go through with and Mom and Dad can deal with the consequences!"

"I'm sorry…" Yasmina lowers her head, snot running down her lip.

"Okay, that's enough—" Mr. Fadoula speaks up.

"I don't know what to do with you!" her mother exclaims. "I've tried my best to handle you, and you just seem bent on making things as bad as you possibly f*ing can!"

Another knife, deep in her heart.

"Ayishah," her step-father says warningly.

"We moved to help you!" she rants. "We stuck through your stupid prank! And here we are! Just when it seems you can't f* up anything else, here we are!"

Yasmina takes a shaky gasp.

"Ayishah, enough!" her step-father moves in.

"And now you're going to plead guilty?!" she hisses as he pulls her back.

"I thought it would help—" Yasmina starts to explain.

"You thought murdering Leah would help!" her mother leaves her gasping for air. "I don't know how you claim to love us so much and then do this! It tears you up that we moved for you, and then you go and do this?!"

"I'm sorry," Yasmina chokes out.

"That's enough," he states.

"Do you want to stress me out and make me miscarry?" her mother snaps.

"Mom, no!"

"That's enough!" her step-father barks, finally separating the two. They argue with each other under their breath.

Yasmina hugs her legs, sobbing inconsolably now. Everything she had ever felt about herself, her mother had felt the same…

Her mother comes to stand in front of her, arms crossed. Anger radiated off of her, but her step-father wasn't stopping her this time. "So you're going to plead guilty?"

Yasmina hates the situation she was put in. Her parents for some unknown reason didn't want to her lock her up and get rid of her. But God had told her to plead guilty… And she had done enough disobeying for a lifetime. But she wanted to do what was best for her family, not for her… Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps staying with them and working through this hard time would be best…

Or maybe going to prison truly was best, since that was what God told her to do…

Slowly, she nods.

Her mother clenches her teeth. "Why?"

"Say you're more afraid of her than prison," fear whispers.

No… She couldn't lie. She couldn't deny him. Not again.

"God told me to," she admits.

"God?" her mother lifts an eyebrow.

"He told me not to kill Leah," she explains. "I asked him what to do. He said to be honest and plead guilty."

Her mother stayed motionless, but Yasmina could practically feel her rolling her eyes. "I told him I don't care what happens to me," Yasmina says slowly. "I deserve whatever I get. But I want… I want what's best for my family. For my loved ones. Regardless of how it affects me. I'm done… I'm done f*ing up…"

Her step-father's shoulders sag, but her mother doesn't change.

"I want to stop being a burden." Her hands start to tremble. "Maybe if I'm in prison, I can't f* anything else up… Maybe that's what's best for you guys."

She won't meet her mother's unbending stare. "I want to be a good daughter… And a good sister. And a good friend… But I've f*ed that up so badly… I hate who I am… I hate who I am. I hate everything about me. Everytime I try to be something good, I screw it up."

She looks up to see her mother's eyes have changed. "I'm sorry, Mom," she blinks away the tears, collecting herself before continuing. "I'm sorry for being your daughter. I'm sorry for being such a failure… I've asked God to change me. Anything is better than what I've become."

Her mother's jaw drops and she backs away. One glance at her husband and she was gone, locking the bedroom door behind her.

Brandon flops down on the couch, leaning back and rubbing his temples while sighing deeply. Darius silently sits next to him, sinking into the cushions slowly, as if in a daze. He stares off into the air, eyes heavy with sorrow. Dark circles emphasized his pain.

"You guys wanna watch some TV before heading to bed?" Mr. Pincus asks, cracking his back as he walks past the couch. His eyes drooped with the same exhaustion.

Ben sits beside Darius, his body craving sleep. "Yeah… We'll probably fall asleep, but might as well unwind with something mindless."

Flopsy trots over him. She had gone crazy when Ben finally came home, not seeing him for the entire day. Now she was more calm and sat near his feet, resting her head on his knee and demanding pets.

"Put on something stupid," Brandon mumbles. "I don't wanna watch my favorite TV show and be reminded of… this…"

Darius inhales shakily, tears welling up. "Yeah… Whatever…"

Ben gently rubs his back, knowing he needed something to take his mind off of Brooklynn. Unfortunately, it was such a heavy subject, it was nearly impossible to distract him, even for an hour…

Ben pulls up a streaming site, picking a random anime show. Something none of them had ever heard of. Something they wouldn't watch again in the future… Something they'd never watch again after associating it with Brooklynn's attempt…

After one episode, Brandon breaks the silence. "Do you think they'll make us go to school tomorrow?"

"Probably…" Ben murmurs. "If nothing else, it'll serve as a way to keep our minds occupied…"

"It won't work…" Darius mumbles, swallowing hard. "Not even this stupid show can take my mind off of her…" Both boys rub his back and he sniffs.

Darius was right. Even when Ben tried to follow the plot, his mind kept wandering back to Brooklynn. "God, when she comes back, don't let her drown in guilt… Don't let her see the pain she put us through and take on the guilt… It would only make her feel worse…"

Perhaps seeing the immense pain she was putting them through would snap her out of it… But Ben didn't think so. More likely, Brooklynn would internalize the guilt, further irritating her wounds… Then they'd be right back where they started.

Admittedly, Ben felt angry. He felt anger towards Brooklynn. It hurt. What she did hurt. It hurt him. It hurt all of them. Trying to kill herself was incredibly selfish and cruel to herself and the rest of them. How dare she think killing herself and violently tearing herself from their lives would help. How dare she think that would help them. It was betrayal. Brooklynn had deeply, deeply hurt, betrayed, and traumatized all of them. The campers. The siblings. The parents. Everyone! She was so incredibly selfish, no matter how much she justified it in her mind! What did she think would happen? Who did she think would find her? Had the roles been reversed… Had she come home to find her brother dead in his room. Or had she gone to Darius's house to find him dead… Brandon… Shelby… Her mother… If she had found anyone dead, how would she feel?

No, Brooklynn wasn't thinking straight… Her thoughts were so corrupted and dark, she didn't think about any of that… Deep down, he knew Brooklynn didn't want to hurt them… She just wasn't thinking straight…

But it still hurt. And he was still allowed to be angry at her for it. His sympathy for her, his love for her, and his understanding of her were allowed to coexist with the anger, the betrayal, and the pain. It was the five stages of grief, right? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. He was allowed to feel angry at her, no matter how much guilt tried to condemn her for it…

An unexpected comedic moment in the show made Ben chuckle, but his spirit still felt down. Flopsy whines at him, and he continues to ruffle her ears.

He had complete faith that Brooklynn would wake up and recover. He fully believed God would save her.

What caused him worry was afterwards… Her miraculous awakening wouldn't magically solve everything. There was so much left to do after that. After waking up, her health would have to be evaluated… At best, she'd wake up without any physical or mental damage to her body. That would be a miracle, which God was fully capable of, and Ben had faith in it.

But that didn't solve her mind… When she woke up, would she have learned her lesson? Would God get through her shattered, guilt torn soul? Would she be free of the things that drove her to this place?

Her secret was out now… They all knew. At the very least, her wound was no longer hidden. Perhaps now that they all knew, she could move on… Ben theorized so much of her fear was not knowing how her friends and family would react. Now that they knew… Now that the bandaid had been ripped off, so to speak, that fear would be neutralized. Maybe with her secrets aired out, they could work towards healing.

But what if guilt still had a strong grip on her… What if it found a different angle?

Ben watches Darius and Brandon out of the corner of his eye. Darius was a shell of his former self. Her attempt had destroyed him… Brandon looked so utterly exhausted from putting his brother and the others in front of his own grief… But he was bound to break down eventually. Whether he did it in a healthy way, or held it back until he exploded was the question…

Yes, Brooklynn's secret was out… But what if guilt used her suicide attempt to push her to the edge again? What if seeing Darius so broken crushes her? What if she saw Brandon? Kenji? Yasmina? Sammy? Milton? Pick a person. Pick anyone from their support group and show Brooklynn how they were faring. Would it crush Brooklynn or snap her to her senses?

No, when she woke up, even if she was completely healed and whole, they wouldn't be out of the woods… There would be anger and pain and betrayal… There was so much that needed to be resolved and aired out and worked on…

Brooklynn needed to want to live again… Ben wouldn't trust her not to try again unless he could see the change. The deadened look in her eyes that night haunted him. That night when he realized she was dead inside… When she woke up, he had to see it. He had to look into her eyes and see that she was truly alive… Otherwise, he couldn't fully believe she was safe.

"I want to see life in her eyes again," Ben prays.

"Trust in me," the Lord tells him.

Ben clasps and unclasps his hand. "I will. I do."

Halfway through the first season, the boys were practically asleep. Brandon mumbles something and lays back against the arm rest, moving a pillow behind his back. He lifts his right leg over Darius, almost clocking his brother in the head as he puts his leg behind the boys. His right arm goes over his eyes, and his left arm dangles off the couch.

Darius's eyes are half shut as he lays back against his brother, adjusting his position when Brandon grunts uncomfortably. He lays his head back against Brandon's chest, deflating like a balloon as exhaustion overcomes him.

Ben succumbs to his exhaustion and lays down on his stomach on top of Darius. He rests his head on Darius's chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest giving the same soothing effects of the ocean. Darius sleepily rests his arm on Ben's back, and Ben lets his arms rest on Brandon's knees.

Flopsy hops onto the couch and lays on top of Ben's back, her paws digging into his boney back as she gets comfortable. Once she settles, she heaves a sigh and becomes a comforting weight on his back, her breath warming his neck. Darius, Brandon, and Flopsy all begin to snore lightly, giving him sleeping surround sound.

If he closed his eyes, Ben could pretend it was just another sleep pile, like the ones they had on the island…

Despite his limbs feeling like lead, his mind was busy zipping from one thought to another, leaving him awake. The image of Brooklynn hooked up to life monitors, her body void of life kept coming to mind…

Life would move on. It always moves on, regardless of how life altering the events of today felt. Life didn't care how shattered you were. Time marched on without a care for you… Ben only hoped Brooklynn could march on with life…

"God, she's yours. She always has been," he surrenders his worry. "All I can do is focus on you and your word."

Over and over again he had to do that. Worry had a way of creeping back in. Naturally, it took different forms. When worry got nowhere with Brooklynn, it moved onto Yasmina.

Yasmina…

He was so relieved she had come around. She had dipped her toes in once or twice. More times than he had actually realized. But back in the hospital, she had finally made the plunge.

It took attempting murder to do it… Yasmina had an amazing ability to ignore wakeup calls that would've jolted others awake. And it led her here…

"God, I give her to you."

How could she avoid prison? Was it possible Leah's parents would let it go?

"Nope, I give her to you."

What would life be like without her? How could they see her in prison? How often could they visit?

"Nope, no worries. It's not my job to worry. It's my job to trust you, God."

It took a lot of effort to fight his worry.

Flopsy starts whimpering in her sleep, paws fidgeting. Her back paws claw at his thighs, and he winces, waiting for her to settle.

Another thought comes. "That… gibberish… What was that?"

Hmm, something that wasn't worry to think about. That random spout of gibberish that came out when he was praying for Yasmina… He wracked his brain, but truly couldn't come up with an explanation for it. His tongue had simply grown a mind of its own and started speaking gibberish…

"God, what was that? Was that you? Did she somehow understand whatever that was? Was that Arabic or some other language? Was that something else? What do I do about that? Is it even that big of a deal?"

The Lord was silent… Except for a name. Angelica…

Ben decides it was best to tackle that problem in the morning. Too much had been thrown at him in one day.

He can hear his parents whispering on the other side of the living room, and can sense his mother taking a picture of their sleep pile.

How weird would it be years later to look back on that picture? To remember the events that led to this? Would things be better or worse? Would Brooklynn be there to see it? Would they be able to explain why they were in this position?

He starts to drift between consciousness and sleep, mind conceiving different pictures, half dreams and half thoughts. He could see the photo in an album. It was a little mini album. Him, Darius, and Brandon looked utterly worn out in the picture. The picture next to it in the album was Brooklynn on her hospital bed, tubes attached to her. The picture had been timed just right to show her heart rate rhythmically spiking.

A loud sound from the show brought him back to reality. He settles back into position, heart slowing back down after being startled…

Ben hoped if they were to make a photo album with pictures from this event, that that would mean Brooklynn had survived… An impression from the Holy Spirit told him that the album would be real… Ben really couldn't see them making a photo album centered around Brooklynn dying. Even if the photo album wasn't centered around this event, it still felt like poor taste to put a picture of her on her death bed in an album… Ben felt a sense of hope at the thought.

He begins to drift off again. Happy thoughts come this time. Thoughts of all the families together. They were inside a grand living room. It had a rustic, barn-like feel to it, but was enormous. Ben caught glimpses of the campers and the siblings playing board games in the living room. Of everyone playing war with nerf guns, running around the living room, kitchen, and up the stairs. He saw the moms and the younger kids making cookies in an expansive kitchen. He saw games of hide-n-seek in the pasture. He saw cattle thriving with chickens and other animals. He saw dogs and cats lounging next to the kids on the couch, a movie playing.

Ben saw a large bed built into the wall, or perhaps a couple twins pushed together. The campers were having a pillow fight and making a mess of the room. He saw them in a large room with art supplies and musical instruments around them. He saw them in that room with the large bed again, all laying on their stomachs and looking out the open window at the night sky. He saw them on the roof, counting the stars and enjoying each other's presence. He saw them gettin reprimanded for being on the roof again.

"Hmm… The Kon's new house?" Ben wonders sleepily. Because having a giant bed for everyone to sleep on just sounded like something Kenji would have installed in his room.

With that thought, Ben finally drifted off to sleep.

Yasmina looks down at her feet, numbly crying and unable to meet her step-father's eyes.

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, he sits down beside her. Crossing his legs, he gently pulls her into his lap, giving her plenty of time to resist. She doesn't.

His big arms wrap around her, and he rests his chin on her head. The simple gesture reduces her to a weeping mess. He holds her as she cries, not saying anything. He just holds her.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes through her tears.

"I know you are…" he says softly.

"I'm sorry, I wish I hadn't done that…"

"I know…"

Her tears slow and her breathing becomes more even. As she wipes her face, Yasmina notices her step-father is crying silently. A dull pang of guilt hits her. In some ways, it hurt more to make her father cry, while he was being so gentle with her… But she couldn't apologize enough…

Maybe she hadn't made him cry… Maybe it was her mother's words… Or maybe it was everything all together…

He sniffs, taking a moment to pull back and wipe his nose with his short sleeve. "We'll get through this."

"I didn't mean to hurt you guys…" she murmurs.

"I know you didn't," he states. "You made a very bad decision, and it's hurting all of us… But you know what you did was very wrong. And you can't go back and fix it. There's no point in beating you over the head with it."

"I don't want to make Mom miscarry," she wrings her hands nervously.

"I know you don't," he sighs. "Your Mom…"

"She has every right to be angry at me," Yasmina interrupts.

"She does," he agrees. "I'm not going to tell her not to be angry. I'm angry with you, too. I'm disappointed in you."

The word "disappointment" hurt more than anger…

"But she… said some hurtful things…" he mumbles. "Things I don't think she should've said, even in anger…"

Yasmina sniffs sullenly. "Like what… What shouldn't she have said? What wasn't true?"

He grunts in frustration. "I don't… Yasmina, you and your mother are… very similar… That was more about her than it was about you…"

"It…" Yasmina hesitates to say it, feeling as if she shouldn't say what hurt after the things she had done. "I've always felt like the difficult one… The reckless, stubborn one… The one who always messes things up… It just… hurts to hear your Mom thinks the same thing…" Her voice cracks at the end.

He doesn't say a word. There wasn't much to say about it… It was hard to deny her mother's own words…

"I don't really want to go to prison," she whispers. "But how can I prove my innocence? And if I can't, why drag you guys through the long process…"

"I… don't want to lose you," he admits. "But if… if that's what you want… If that's what you think God wants… Then there's not much me or your Mom can do."

"Hey," he says softly, and she looks up at him. "I'm disappointed and angry. This is why I didn't trust you with the knife. Ironically, that's exactly what you ended up using."

They both chuckle dryly. "But…" he squeezes her gently, "I'm also proud of you."

"For what?" she frowns.

"Owning up to your mistake completely," he says. "Not making excuses. Not trying to pass the blame. You're taking full responsibility for it, and I'm proud of you for that."

Yasmina nods, holding back tears. Knowing that her step-father could be proud of her for anything at the moment was overwhelming…

The two sit in silence for a moment. "How long… have you been a Christian?" he tentatively asks.

She chews on her lip. "Hard to say… When I lost my leg, I prayed the sinner's prayer with Ben, but… in the hospital, I took it back. In between then, I've had experiences here and there where I'd go to God, but backpedal after I got back on my feet… This morning is when I truly changed."

He nods. "Did you ever backpedal because you were… afraid of what your Mom and I would think?"

Yasmina holds her breath. "Sometimes…"

He nods again, thinking. "Well… I'm proud of you for not hiding it from us. Especially since now wasn't the most opportune time to disappoint your parents, if that's what you thought we'd be."

"Are you… Christian?" Yasmina almost hesitates to ask. "You're pretty chill with this."

"No," he shrugs. "I'm not… And yeah, I'm chill with it. I figured you were leaning that way, given most of your friends. It's your life and choice. Your Mom… She has a lot of trauma… You all have a lot of trauma."

A forlorn howl comes from the front door.

He shifts, moving her off of his lap and helps her to her feet. "Come on, it's getting late."

He helps her to her room, tucking her into bed. "Try to sleep," he says softly. "It's been a long day."

"When do you think I'll be arrested?" Yasmina whispers.

"Hard to say," he whispers back. "Not sure how long it takes to process everything and send out officers. So try to relax right now while you can."

She nods, his words doing nothing to ease her anxiety.

He gives her a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, Yazzy. I don't think you're a failure. We just have a lot to work through. But I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispers, watching him softly close the door. She takes off her bra and throws it at the wall, unwilling to do anything else while snug under the covers.

Well that… could've gone worse…

She could've had both parents scream and yell and abandon her.

Could've gone a lot better, though… And they were far from out of the woods. All of them…

Thoughts of Brooklynn, her mother, prison, and everything else start bombarding her mind. The future was completely unknown. Too many possibilities and outcomes… The future was always unknown, but it felt scarily so all of the sudden…

It was out of her hands… Luckily, she knew whose hands it was in.

"God… It's up to you… Just tell me what to do and when to do it," she murmurs, curling in on herself. It had been a long, exhausting day… The exhaustion wasn't over, but at least the day was…