Hi All,

I hope you're all doing great! These past few months have been a roller coaster, and to be honest, this chapter really made me cry while writing it. Loss is a natural part of life, but that doesn't make it any easier. When we lose someone who was a pillar in our lives, it shakes us to our core. We yearn for connection, for understanding, for something to fill the space they leave behind. If you've experienced loss, I encourage you to reach out to the people who support you. It may not take away the pain, but having someone to lean on does help. You don't have to carry it alone.

I also want to take a moment to thank you for all the wonderful reviews—your kind words truly mean the world to me! It's so heartwarming to know this story brings you joy, just as it does for me. That said, I recently received a notification that my story has been shared on other platforms. While I'm grateful that people enjoy it, I kindly ask that no one repost it elsewhere. I've chosen the specific sites I want to use, and I'd really appreciate your support in respecting that.

Thank you all so much for being here, for reading, and for sharing this journey with me. Your support means everything.

Take care and stay safe!

Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Always and Forever,

Ari.

Warnings for all chapters:No minors, sexual situations, Mentions of death, funeral anxiety, parental arguing, silent treatment, bullying, emotional abuse, discussion of death, implied sexual relationships, unwanted touching, sexual assault, suicide attempt using a medication, suicidal ideation, manipulation, panic attack, abandonment, stress, abandonment.

National Sexual Assault Hotline: Call 800.656.4673

Disclaimer: I only own my O.C.s and parts of the plot you do not recognize from the Twilight Saga.

Chapter 41: The Gift of a Dream

"We have to allow ourselves to be loved by the people who really love us, the people who really matter. Too much of the time, we are blinded by our own pursuits of people to love us, people that don't even matter, while all that time we waste and the people who do love us have to stand on the sidewalk and watch us beg in the streets! It's time to put an end to this. It's time for us to let ourselves be loved."
―C. JoyBell C.

"That's what people do who love you. They put their arms around you and love you when you're not so lovable."
―Deb Caletti

"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living,
my baby you'll be."
―Robert N. Munsch,Love You Forever

unknown., La Push, Washington

"Pretty girl, you promised." I tore my eyes away from the sand beneath my feet, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. "You promised that you'd try with Mom," Dad continued, his voice calm but firm.

"Dad, you don't see how she treats me," I whispered, turning to face him. My chest felt tight, frustration and hurt twisting together inside me. "I can never do anything right in her eyes. No matter what I say or do, it's always wrong." My voice wavered, but I needed him to know I tried. "I tried. I really did. I listened to your words, but she makes it so hard!"

"Watch your tone, pretty girl," he reminded me, stepping closer, his presence solid and unmoving like an anchor. "She is your mother. Even if you don't agree with her, she deserves your respect." I rolled my eyes, barely getting the chance to react before I felt a light swat against my arm. It wasn't harsh, but I still flinched from it. "I taught you better than that."

Tears burned at the back of my eyes. "Why does she get to disrespect me?" My voice cracked, my emotions spilling into the open. "Why does she get to treat me like I'm less than? Like I don't matter?" My breath hitched as the words I'd held in for so long finally broke free. "I didn't do anything to her. Am I less than her, Dad? Do I deserve to be treated this way?"

"Laryssa." The way he said my name made my heart sink. It wasn't anger—it was disappointment. And somehow, that hurt worse. "You need to apologize," he said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. "You shouldn't have yelled at her. She is your mother." I looked up at him, searching his face for some sign that he understood—some sliver of recognition that I wasn't just being difficult, that I wasn't just being disrespectful. But his lips were pressed into a straight line, unwavering. I felt trapped, caught between the love and respect I had for him and the bitterness and loathing I had toward her. "Have you ever wondered why you two disagree so much?"

I swallowed hard, my chest aching. "I don't care," I murmured, turning away. Another swat. Not hard. Just enough to remind me that he was still there, and he didn't like my tone nor my words. That he was still my father. That respect was something he would always expect from me—no matter how much I hurt. And yet, the question lingered in the air between us.

"I never thought my pretty girl would raise her voice at me and roll her eyes," Dad said, his voice light but edged with something else that made guilt in my stomach. "Looks like I'm dealing with a teenager." I swallowed hard, my arms tightening around myself as if I could hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. "Pretty girl, look at me." I shook my head, refusing to lift my gaze. My eyes burned, and I didn't want him to see it. Didn't want him to see how much this was getting to me. "Laryssa Marie Chiago." My full name felt like it was too much. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a shaky breath, willing the tears to go away before I finally looked up at him. His face was calm, but his dark eyes held the weight of a thousand unspoken words. "I'm not saying your feelings don't matter," he continued, his voice softer now, more measured. "Because they do. But so do your mom's. And every time you two fight, it breaks a part of her. Just like I'm sure it breaks a part of you." I bit my lip, my throat tightening. "You two are so much alike," he went on, his words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. "That's why it's so hard for you to find middle ground. From where I stand, both of you are wrong, but neither of you are willing to admit it." I looked away, guilt warring with frustration. "You knew better," he said, his tone firmer now. "And you still decided to ditch school. Then you lied about it. Instead of owning up like I taught you, you lied because you knew you were wrong." My breath hitched, and I tried to turn away again, but his rough, weathered hands caught my chin, gently but firmly, holding me in place. There was no escape from this conversation. "Mom didn't deserve to be lied to," he said, his grip loosening slightly. "But you didn't deserve to be called names or hit either."

Tears welled in my eyes again, but this time, I didn't try to blink them away. "I get good grades, I keep my room clean, I hardly fight with Jay. Don't I deserve the benefit of the doubt," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I do everything else right, and it still means nothing." A tear slipped down my cheek. "But then when I go with Alex to get her a birthday gift, I'm suddenly a lowlife. I'm going to end up a drunk and a hussy. I'll be nothing but a whore who lays on her back for one of the druggies." My voice cracked, the pain of the words lodging in my chest. "I'm no better than the others on the rez, right?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have lied. But I wanted to surprise her. And for what?" I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. "I can already tell what she thinks of me."

Dad sighed, his expression unreadable. "You will never be the fear she says," he finally murmured. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. But you do have to decide what kind of person you're going to be." I swallowed hard, my emotions still raw, my heart still aching. I knew one thing for sure. I was tired of feeling like I was never enough.

"You don't understand. The weight and the burden of being her daughter. But know this, one day Dad. I am going to leave and never look back."

Dad's jaw tightened, and for the first time in our conversation, something flickered across his face—hurt. He exhaled slowly, like he was steadying himself. I never spoke of leaving, never dreamed of it until recently. I wanted to get away from her. I wanted to put as much space between me and her. "You think leaving will fix this?" he asked quietly.

"I think it's the only choice I have left," I shot back, my voice raw. I knew I was hurting him but the pain inside me was too much to bear. "Because no matter what I do, it's not enough for her. It will never be enough. So why keep trying?"

His dark eyes held mine, steady and unwavering. "Because walking away doesn't change what's inside you, Laryssa."

I let out a angry laugh, shaking my head. "And what's inside me, Dad? The shame she's shoved down my throat since I was old enough to understand it? The guilt that clings to me no matter how hard I try to shake it? Or the anger that builds every time she looks at me like I'm nothing?" I sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't want to be her. I don't want to end up hating myself because I stayed in a place where I was never wanted."

His face softened then, but there was still that quiet strength in his expression. "Pretty girl," he said, his voice gentler now, "you think your mom doesn't love you, but I promise you, she does. She just doesn't know how to show it in the way you need."

I scoffed, looking away. "Love isn't supposed to hurt like this."

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But sometimes, people carry their own wounds. And instead of healing, they pass that pain down without even realizing it."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "So what, I'm just supposed to take it? Just let her break me?"

His expression hardened. "No. I would never ask you to let anyone break you. But I will ask you to be stronger than the hate you feel right now."

I blinked, surprised. "Strength isn't about running away," he continued. "It's about facing the hard things, even when they hurt. Even when it feels unfair." He hesitated, then sighed. "You say you're leaving and never looking back. Maybe one day you will. But if that day comes, I want you to leave because it's what's best for you—not because you're running from a fight you think you've already lost."

His words settled deep into my chest, heavy and suffocating. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That I wasn't running. I was surviving. That I had given everything I had to be good enough, and it still wasn't enough. But I couldn't. Because part of me knew he was right.

I looked back at the sand beneath my feet, swallowing down the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

"I just wish she saw me," I whispered. "Really saw me."

Dad's warmth surrounded me, I clung to him, letting out a shaky breath, my fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. I felt like I could finally breathe.

He ran a hand over my hair, his voice quiet but certain. "You've always been stronger than you think, Laryssa."

I swallowed hard. "I don't feel strong."

"You are," he murmured. "Strong isn't never hurting. It's carrying the hurt without letting it turn you into something you're not."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest aching. "I don't want to be angry forever," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Then don't be."

I let out a broken laugh. "Like it's that easy?"

His lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. "Nothing about this is easy, pretty girl. But you've already taken the hardest step—you know what you don't want to become. That's more than most people ever figure out."

I let his words settle in, keeping them close to my heart. I didn't know how to fix the damage Mom had done. I didn't know how to stop the ache inside me, how to make her see me the way I so desperately wanted her to. But I did know one thing. I wasn't going to let her pain become mine.

I sniffed, pulling back just enough to wipe at my eyes. "You think she'll ever change?"

Dad sighed, his gaze thoughtful. "I think people only change when they want to. When they realize what they're losing." His thumb brushed over my cheek gently. "And if she never does, that doesn't mean you have to carry that weight for the rest of your life."

I nodded, though the ache in my chest remained.

He squeezed my shoulder. "No matter what happens, you always have a home with me, Laryssa. You always have someone who sees you."

The lump in my throat grew, but this time, it wasn't just from sadness, it was from something softer. His love and acceptance. His love never had conditions or expectations. I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing him in, grounding myself in the safety of his presence. "I love you, Dad," I murmured.

His arms tightened around me. "I love you too, pretty girl. So much. To the moon and back. Around the world and back again." I laughed feeling better than I did earlier.

unknown., La Push, Washington

I slid my backpack off my shoulders and dropped it by the door before making my way to the kitchen. The house was quiet, too quiet. I had expected Dad to be home early.

Clicking my teeth in frustration, I suddenly remembered. Mom had taken Jay to the book fair this afternoon. That explained the silence. With a sigh, I wandered to the kitchen, opening the fridge before deciding on an orange. But when I turned back around, my eyes landed on a plate sitting on the stove. Toast with bacon. And right next to it, my favorite blackberry jelly. A folded note rested on top of the toast. I reached for a piece of bacon first, biting into the crispy strip as I unfolded the note with my free hand.

Pretty Girl, remember that you are trying, and that's good enough. Be home soon. -Dad

A grin spread across my face. I finished my snack, still feeling a little giddy over the small but meaningful gesture. Dad always knew how to make things feel a little less heavy. Tucking the note into my jacket pocket, I made my way toward the art room to work on the painting I had started three days ago.

As soon as I entered, I turned on the radio, letting the music fill the space as I gathered my paints. Humming softly, I started adding delicate details to the canvas, my brush gliding across the surface with practiced ease. The world around me faded, replaced by color and the quiet comfort of being alone in our safe space.

Abrupt knocking cut through the air. I turned the radio down, my brows furrowing wondering who it could be. Rushing to the door, I swung it open to find Jay, Sue, and Seth standing there. Jay brushed past me without a word, heading straight for his room, and Seth followed close behind. I stepped aside, letting Sue in, but the moment I saw her face, I knew something was wrong.

"You okay?" I asked, my voice soft with concern.

"Yeah, Laryssa," she tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. I studied her, feeling the weight of something unspoken in the air. "When did you get home?" she asked, glancing toward the clock.

"Like twenty minutes ago." My gaze flickered toward Jay's room before settling back on her. "How come he's with you? I thought Mom was taking him to the book fair."

Sue shifted uncomfortably. "Mom asked me to bring him home."

Something about the way she said it made my stomach twist. She looked drained and it was like there was something she wasn't telling me.

I narrowed my eyes. "Sue, are you sure you're okay? Do you want some water or something to eat?" I was already moving toward the kitchen before she could answer.

"No, sweetheart, I'm okay," she murmured, she wouldn't meet my eyes. "I…"

She cut herself off at the sound of tires screeching outside. My head snapped toward the front door just as it burst open. Mom stumbled inside, her face streaked with tears, her entire body shaking. "It was him… Sue, it was him…" Her voice cracked, breaking into a sob as she rushed forward. Her legs buckled, and Sue caught her just before she collapsed to the floor. "He's gone…"

I froze, my mind scrambling to understand, trying to piece together what she was saying. What she was breaking over. My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone and looked at Sue, my voice steady despite the rising panic in my chest. "I'll call Dad to come home." Mom sobbed harder, her cries raw, like something inside of her had shattered beyond repair. The last time I heard her like that was when grandma died. Sue met my gaze, her eyes full of sorrow. The kind of sorrow that made my stomach sink. Then, the sound of boots echoed through the doorway. I turned to see him. Chief Swann. He looked at me, then at my mother and Sue. His expression was heavy, weighed down by something I wasn't ready to hear.

I ignored him and pressed Dad's name on my phone and held it to my ear. It rang once. Twice. Then…voicemail. He never let my calls go to voicemail. He always answered. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice as I spoke. "Dad, come home. Something's happening with Mom. Sue and Chief Swann are here."

When I looked up again, the Chief was watching me. His eyes were soft, but the sadness in them made my chest tighten. "You're Danny's daughter, right?" he asked gently.

I nodded, still gripping my phone. "Yeah. Laryssa Chiago. My dad isn't answering, but as soon as he hears the voicemail, he'll be home." My words tumbled out quickly, like saying them would somehow make it true. "But he'll want to know what's going on. So, what is going on?"

A part of me already knew something was wrong. But I didn't want to acknowledge it. Chief Swann removed his hat, holding it in front of him as he exhaled slowly. "There's been an accident…" I blinked. The words didn't make sense. I didn't understand why he was telling me about an accident. "Two fatalities." His voice was steady, but I barely heard him over the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Then, the words that shattered everything. "Your dad, Danny… was one of them."

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for him to correct himself. Then, I laughed. "No," I said, shaking my head. "No, you must have it wrong." Because Dad had just left me a note. Dad was coming home. Dad always came home. I pulled out the note showing it to him, "Look see. It says be home soon. So whoever you found, you need to find their family. You didn't find my dad because he said he's going to be home soon."

The look in Chief Swann's eyes didn't change. He didn't look at the note. He kept looking at me, and I stared back. Chief Swann didn't look away, didn't flinch, didn't reach for the note I held out like it was a lifeline—like it was proof that this was all some terrible mistake. His steady gaze stayed locked on mine, filled with something I couldn't face.

"No," I whispered again, my voice cracking. "No, you don't understand. He said—" I held up the note again, the paper trembling in my grip. "He said he'd be home soon. Do you see it's written right here." My breath hitched, my chest tightening like a vice was squeezing the air from my lungs. My vision blurred. I was shaking my head so hard it made me dizzy, but I couldn't stop. Because if I stopped, it meant I was listening. And if I was listening, it meant I had to believe him.

I took a step back, gripping the note tighter. "You didn't find my dad," I insisted, my voice rising, almost frantic now. "You couldn't have. He wouldn't—he wouldn't just leave me. He promised—"

"Laryssa." Sue's voice was quiet, but it cut through me like a blade. I turned toward her, searching her face for anything that told me this was a misunderstanding. That it was a cruel joke, a mistake, a lie. But the moment I saw her red-rimmed eyes, the tears slipping down her cheeks, the way she held onto Mom like she was the only thing keeping her upright. I felt my stomach drop. A strange, hollow noise crawled up my throat. A whimper, a sob, something broken and unfamiliar.

I turned back to Chief Swann, my breath coming too fast, too sharp. "Tell me you're lying," I begged, my voice so small. "Please."

Chief Swann's face twisted like he wished he could. Like he wanted to give me something, anything, to make this easier. But he didn't. Instead, he spoke the words that shattered whatever denial I had left. "I'm so sorry, Laryssa."

The words left me numb. I brought the note over my heart, moving past him down the steps. I walked towards the woods, before my legs gave out and I sank to the grass. The grass was wet and cold, and it seeped into my jeans. I cradled the note in my hands, running my fingers over the elegant scrawl. I could feel the indention of how hard he pressed into the paper when he wrote it. I blocked out the screams from the house.

4:16 a.m. Lahote House, La Push, Washington

I sat up quickly, my breath coming fast and uneven, my chest rising and falling as I tried to ground myself. My heart pounded against my ribs, my skin damp with sweat and not the kind I usually got from my personal heater. The familiar ache of grief curled in my stomach, raw and persistent. Paul wasn't home. And for once, I was a little glad. I needed a moment to pull myself together.

My legs hung over the side of the bed and it took me a moment before I stood, rubbing my hands over my face before padding softly through the quiet house. I checked Jay's room, pausing in the doorway. His soft snores filled the space, a steady rhythm that felt like an anchor, something real, something grounding. I leaned against the wall outside his room, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. I pulled my knees up, resting my arms on them, just listening. I didn't want to be alone. But I didn't want to wake him either.

I let my head rest back against the wall and exhaled slowly. The memories were so vivid. Like I was there again, living it all over, feeling every sharp pain as if it were fresh wounds. They were unhealed all over again.

"Trying to tell me something, Dad?" I murmured, tilting my head up toward the ceiling. "Because if you are, you're doing a shit job at it."

The house was silent except for Jay's steady snoring. I sighed, rubbing at my tired eyes. Then, the front door creaked open. Paul's broad shoulders filled the doorway as he stepped inside. He was trying to keep quiet, until he spotted me. He stilled like he was caught.

"Baby, why are you on the floor?" His voice was quiet.

I pushed myself up, reaching for his outstretched hand. His palm was warm, solid. Grounding. Safe. "Bad dream," I murmured. "His snoring put me at ease." Paul's fingers curled around mine as he gently tugged me toward our room. "When did you leave?" I asked, my voice was still heavy with sleep. "You didn't wake me."

"About an hour ago," he said, leading me back toward the bed. "It was a brief meeting. You looked peaceful, so I didn't want to wake you. I figured you'd still be asleep when I got back."

I climbed back under the covers, feeling the warmth of the blankets surround me. Paul slid in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his chest. He curled around me, his body molding perfectly to mine. Even without knowing, he was giving me exactly what I needed.

"Wanna talk about it?" he murmured against my hair.

"No," I whispered. "Let's just go back to sleep." He hummed in understanding, his breath warm against my neck as he held me a little tighter. "Everything get solved?" I asked after a moment, my voice quieter now, sleep tugging at my limbs.

Paul let out a soft, amused exhale. "Same old, same old. Leech-lover in distress. The usual. But we can rest easy for a few nights." I felt his hand trace slow, absentminded patterns over my arm. I squeezed his hand. Good.

"You sure you're, okay?" he asked, his voice lower now, more serious. "Your heart's still beating fast."

His arms tightened slightly, like he could hold me together if I started to fall apart. And that small gesture, it made me love him even more. I wanted to deflect, wanted to tease him and say it's you, you always make my heart race. But if I did, I'd be lying. He was the last person I wanted to lie too. "I just… really miss my dad," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "He's been visiting me in my dreams, and I don't know why. But maybe when I go back to sleep, I'll see him again and find out."

Paul was quiet for a moment, his breath slow and steady against my skin. Then, he hummed softly, his hand resting over my heart, his warmth seeping into me. "Then let's get you back to him, sweetheart."

I held onto his arms, unable to get any words out. I took a deep breath. "I love you."

"I love you too." He said, and somehow, the ache in my chest didn't feel quite so unbearable.

unknown., unknown, unknown

I glanced at the water, the sun setting on the horizon. The sand shifted beside me, and I glanced over faltering when I saw my dad. He grinned at me with his gapped teeth, and he swatted me, "That for cursing at me."

"This isn't real," I shook my head. "Damn, I really am lucid dreaming," I let out a deep sigh. I got swatted again, and I glared at him, "Stop it."

"I know I raised you in our culture… lucid dreaming really, pretty girl. Haven't you thought that maybe Creator is giving us a gift," Dad mumbled, picking at paint on his shirt. "Even now you have doubts." I really looked at him, and his torn jeans, and white paint splattered shirt. His long dark hair was pulled back into a bun, and a paintbrush in his back pocket. I reached out and touched him, and I could feel him. "Believe me now?" I just stared at him, "Look at how much you have grown pretty girl. I am so proud of you."

"I missed you," I pushed myself in his arms, and he wrapped his arms around me. "There is so much I have to tell you." His arms were just as I remembered, strong, warm, and safe. The kind of embrace that made the world feel small, like nothing could touch me as long as I was there. I pressed my face into his chest, breathing in the faint scent of paint and cedar, the way he had always smelled when he'd come home from a long day.

He chuckled, rubbing my back in slow, steady strokes. "I know, pretty girl," he murmured, his voice deep and full of something I hadn't realized I'd been starving for. "I've been listening."

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, blinking away the tears that burned my eyes. "You have?"

Dad gave me a knowing look, tapping his chest where his heart would be. "Just 'cause you can't see me doesn't mean I'm not here. I'm with you always."

I let out a watery laugh, shaking my head. "You sound like one of the elders."

He smirked. "Maybe they were right all along."

I studied him, taking in every detail, his deep brown eyes, the crinkle of laugh lines around them, the way his lips always carried the ghost of a smile, even when he was serious. The sight of him made my chest ache.

"Why now?" I asked, my voice quieter. "Why are you here now?"

Dad sighed, rubbing his hands over his worn jeans, smearing the paint that was already there. "Because you need me, and Creator saw fit to let me come." His dark eyes softened as he reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I swallowed hard, looking away. "I…"

His fingers curled under my chin, guiding me to meet his gaze. "You don't have to do it all at once. Just start by forgiving yourself."

I blinked. "For what?"

"For surviving," he said simply.

The words slammed into me like a wave, knocking the breath from my lungs. I sucked in a sharp breath, but before I could say anything, Dad pulled me close again, pressing a kiss to the top of my head like he used to when I was a kid.

"You don't have to have all the answers right now, pretty girl," he murmured against my hair. "Just know that I'm proud of you. Always."

I clenched my fingers into his shirt, closing my eyes. "I don't want to wake up yet."

Dad chuckled, squeezing me tighter. "Then don't."

I held onto him, afraid that if I let go, he would leave again. His heartbeat was steady against my ear, just as it had always been. Solid. Real.

"But I will," I whispered, my voice barely above the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore. "I always wake up."

Dad sighed, his arms still wrapped around me. "Yeah, pretty girl, you will." He pulled back just enough to cup my face, his calloused thumbs brushing over my cheeks. "That's just the way of things."

I swallowed hard, searching his face for some kind of answer, some way to make this last longer, to hold onto him for just a little while more. "What if I don't want it to be?"

He smiled, the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes, the kind that carried an understanding I wasn't ready to accept. "Then you'll have to carry me with you when you wake up."

I shook my head, my throat tightening. "It's not the same."

"No," he admitted. "It's not." He let his hand drop to his side before looking out over the water, watching the last bit of the sun disappear beyond the horizon. "But it's what we have." I leaned against him. He ran a hand over my hair, his voice quiet but certain. "You've always been stronger than you think, Laryssa. Don't you ever forget that."