I was genuinely surprised at how easy Mrs. Perry was able to let Tony go. I was expecting a lot more debate, a lot more persuasion, and a lot more sadness. She was more agreeable than I imagined—I guess she also recognized that it was time for her son to move up, to grow up, to find independence. And I also guess she felt comforted knowing that Tony was still going to be with me and Bree.

A day or so after Bree asked us to move in with her, Tony finally built up the courage to ask his mom. He was scared, at first, because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, especially considering that he almost really left her once… there was only so much a mother could handle.

However, he really did want to go, so he knew he had to do it. It was simple; I overheard their conversation. Tony approached his mom, and just told her straight up that he would like to move out. He told her that it was time for him to live for himself more, given that he was nineteen years old and a few months shy of twenty. It broke my heart a little to hear him talk about how he needed to “let go of his past”, and that staying here in this house was not letting that happen. I wondered what he meant by that, but of course I wasn’t going to ask—I wasn’t even supposed to hear his conversation. I was going to wait until he felt confident enough to tell me—everybody had a secret, and that was okay. Tony still didn’t even know the exact way my brother died.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, though. Well, I didn’t intentionally set myself up to hear the conversation—I just so happened to walk by as it was happening, and my curiosity got the best of me. It wasn’t that big of a deal, though.

So, I was relieved to hear that she was willing to let Tony go. She told him how proud she was of him, and that she loved him no matter what. This made my throat tighten a little—I wish I had a mother who was proud of me and loved me unconditionally.

But I shook the thoughts away, because I, at least, had Bree, Tony, Alyssa, and even Mrs. Perry. They were all the family I needed. I even knew, deep down, that Mike and Logan were lingering in the air around us.

After Tony told us that his mom was okay with it, we slowly but surely starting moving our stuff into Bree’s apartment. We weren’t in any rush at all, so we took our time. Bree didn’t go back to Los Angeles—she simply told the movers to take everything from specific rooms (excluding Logan’s) and pack them up and bring them here. I think she paid them a little extra money to do this, which made me laugh. It also relieved me, though. I was glad that she didn’t go back to Los Angeles. Her home city was a major trigger for her, and she didn’t need that right now.

And it all went smoothly; the things that she asked for them to bring was moved in one piece, nothing stolen or damaged. Bree worked hard in the apartment, arranging everything in a way completely different from her house, making sure nothing reminded her too much about her past life in Los Angeles. Sure, certain, small things reminded her of Logan, but they weren’t major, and they even brought a smile to her beautiful face.

Now that Bree was more, for lack of a better word, alive, the first few days she spend with me at the Perry’s house prior to moving into her new apartment was a little awkward. She wasn’t completely comfortable here, because she never experienced a family life like this. She was so used to it being just her and her brother—no parents, no one else at all. But she was nice, and everyone was welcoming.

And, now, it was my last night in the Perry’s house. I still had trouble wrapping my head around the fast changing times. It felt like moments ago I was in the mental hospital, crushing on Bree. And then, seconds later, I was being released from a hospital after being shot, and then I was moving into Tony’s house. Barely a millisecond after that, I was becoming really close with Bree and Logan, and then instantly everything was torn apart, right at the binding of the weak book. A few seconds later, Bree was the one who was suicidal and depressed, and I was the one who was trying to help her—not the other way around. And then in another blink of an eye, we were moving again in the forward direction, tying the pages together a little more securely. All of this happened over the course of a couple of months, but it felt like a small breath.

Bree was staying in her apartment alone, tonight. She insisted, for some reason, that she do so. The idea was driving me crazy—I trusted her, but I was still afraid. What if she lost control? What if the darkness inside of her blackened again, completely taking over? I shivered at the thought.

It took a lot of convincing on her part, but she eventually persuaded me to let her go by herself. She swore that she wouldn’t try anything, and that if she was feeling bad or scared or depressed, even in the middle of the night, that she would call me no matter what. I believed her. It was hard, though. I was afraid to separate from her, but I understood why she needed to—just for one night.

And I knew she loved me. I hoped that, deep down, the love we shared would overpower any form of demon that still haunted her. If she really loved me, she wouldn’t try anything. I kept repeating this to myself in my head, confident that it was true. Besides: there was faith in love.

Nevertheless, I was wrecked with worry. I couldn’t sleep for even a minute, tossing and turning for what felt like hours, even though only minutes passed. I wished that the night would go quicker, but, as if life purposely wanted to make me crazy, time dragged on painfully slow.

The tugging sensation in my chest just wouldn’t subside, no matter how hard I tried. I knew everything was going to be okay with Bree, but my worry was getting the best of me. I could easily get in the car and go to her, or I could at least pick up the phone and call her, but I didn’t do any of those things. Instead, I simply laid there in worry. I didn’t even bother listening to music to help, because I knew it was pointless. This little test of Bree’s was definitely a failure: it was clear that, ever since Logan died, I couldn’t go a night without her in my arms. Not just because I wanted to keep her from making a mistake, but because, since then, I had fallen hopelsely in love with her. Maybe it was weird to think, but seeing her in her most raw, most vulnerable form—and her allowing me to see it—made me love her even more. I wondered if she felt the same way.

I sighed, knowing that sleep was just not going to happen. My throat felt dry, and I desired something to do that could distract me a little, so I decided to slide out of bed and get some water. With a yawn, I wobbled tiredly down the hallway.

I yawned again as I slowly walked, but, mid-yawn, I stopped. My yawn dissolved abruptly and I turned my head when I heard something. “Alyssa?” I whispered quietly into the air. I turned my entire body, facing the source of the sound I heard and fully realizing that it was the door to Alyssa’s bedroom. I could have sworn that I heard a cry or a sniffle or something.

“Lissy…” I whispered to myself when I heard it again. I didn’t know if I should knock or just walk into her room. I didn’t want to scare her by barging in, but I didn’t want her to act asleep when I knocked. So, I did a combination of both. I gave a small knock to warn her a little that I was coming in, and then I opened the door slowly, slipping inside stealthily.

I frowned when I saw her; she was lying horizontal in her bed, her hands covering her face and her shoulders moving up and down at an uneven and broken pace, indicating that she was crying.

“Aw, Alyssa,” I whispered sadly, making my way over to her. I knelt down beside her bed and rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. “What’s wrong, Lissy?” I asked quietly.

“Hm? Vic?” she uncovered her face, revealing her swollen and bloodshot eyes. She looked at me in surprise, and it was clear that she didn’t hear me come in.

“What’s wrong, babe?” I repeated, continuing to rub her arm in comfort.

“N-Nothing,” she shook her head.

“Clearly it’s nothing,” I said lowly. I wiped a few stray tears away and sighed lightly. “You can tell me, it’s okay,” I said.

“N-No,” she said. “It’s dumb,” her voice wavered.

“It’s not dumb, Alyssa. If something is wrong, you need to tell me,” I said gently. Her mouth twitched as she appeared to resist a grimace, but then she seemed to snap, her features completely giving out as she broke down in heavy sobs.

“Lissy,” I cooed softly, petting her hair. “Why are you crying, sweetie?” I asked.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed.

“Don’t be sorry,” I shook my head. “Just tell me what happened,” I said.

“I can’t,” she whined.

“Why not?”

“You’ll be disappointed,” she said.

“Never,” I declared fiercely.

“I’m s-sad, Vic,” she said. “Everything is building up and I don’t know what to do,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, school stuff and social things and college applications… I can’t keep up with it all and I don’t know how to deal with it all,” she said.

“Aw, Lis,” I said softly. “You don’t have to be stressed. If you need help with anything you can come to me, always,” I said.

“Thanks, Vic,” she smiled weakly. “But that’s not really it…” she said.

“What is it then?” I asked. “Come here, sit up and we will talk,” I said, getting a feeling that we were going to be talking for a while. She nodded slowly and sat up in her bed, wiping her eyes as she did so. She slid over a little and I climbed in next to her, tossing an arm around her shoulder. “What’s up?” I asked.

“I-I keep having nightmares, Vic,” she cried, ducking her head.

“Nightmares…” I repeated lowly. She nodded.

“You know how T-Tony almost, y’know…” she quickly flicked her wrist by her neck, making the motion of her neck being slit, and I realized that she was referring to the way Tony almost killed himself. I nodded, understanding. “I-I-I… I-I w-was the one who f-found him…” she cried, reburying her face into her hands.

“Oh, Alyssa,” I breathed sadly, squeezing her shoulder.

“I can’t get it out of my head. I have all of this real life shit to deal with, and then on top of that is seeing my brother half-dead, bleeding out on his bathroom floor. It was h-horrible,” she cried, shaking her head.

“Oh, Alyssa,” I repeated again, not knowing what more to say. “It’s okay, he’s okay now,” I reminded her.

“I know that, but when I’m dreaming I don’t,” she said. “I always have that same damn nightmare… over and over and over… Tony dying on the floor, a pool of blood around him, one arm outstretched and useless, another arm dangling across his body, clutching onto a horrible blade. And then I find him, and I try to help him, but this time I’m too late. I’m too late, Vic!” she sobbed.

“Shh, shh,” I said, shaking her a little. “You’re not too late,” I said.

“V-Vic, I hurt myself,” she blurted suddenly.

My veins iced over. “Y-You… what?”

“My forearm was so soft, Vic. I would sit in class, daydreaming about marking it up. I would constantly trace the skin, wishing that I had something sharp handy. I don’t know why I want to, but I do! I have the worst time chasing the thought away,” she frowned, more tears forming in her eyes.

“No, Lissy, please don’t,” I said quietly.

“I can’t help it, Vic. I don’t know why I feel like I need to hurt myself. I just do! I have no problems at school, and I know Tony’s okay now. Things are better than ever, except the nightmares. But I still want to hurt myself, because I like it. Vic, I’m sad for no reason. I don’t know why…” she cried softly.

“Shh, Lissy, it’s okay,” I said.

“It’s not okay! How can you say it’s—”

“Shh, Lissy,” I repeated. “Listen to me, okay?” she nodded slowly. “I know how it feels to want to hurt yourself for no reason. I know how it feels to be depressed for no damn reason. Alyssa, it’s okay. Look at me,” I instructed. “It’s okay,” I said, pronouncing each syllable in the phrase expertly.

“Can I see?” I asked quietly. Her body tensed a little, but then it relaxed. She slowly unwrapped her arms from around herself, and I took them a hold in my hands. I carefully lifted up her sleeve, revealing a bare right arm. I took this as an indicator that she was right handed, not that that mattered.

I rubbed my thumb over the tiny bumps of her left arm. “It’s not too bad, Alyssa,” I reassured. “You will be okay,” I nodded. I lifted her arm and lightly kissed the scratches she had made. They were only baby skin wounds, but I knew how they could escalate. This was how I started—I remember it all perfectly. Not knowing why I felt the need to hurt myself, but doing it anyway. Gradually, I would hurt myself more and more, making the cuts deeper than before. They started out as scratches that healed in a day, and then they evolved into gashes that required stitches.

“I’m sorry,” she cried softly. “I just want my mind to be clear,” she sobbed.

“This isn’t the way to clear it, love,” I said gently. “I know it may feel like it, but there are better ways. Please don’t get sucked into this. I love you too much to know that you hurt yourself,” I said. She nodded, sighing a shaky sigh. “Listen to music when you feel like doing this again. Promise me that you will call or text me when you get an urge, or call or text your brother. Write something, draw something. Scream in a pillow. I will even let you punch me if you need to. Any of us will be there for you. Just don’t let this become your life… please don’t let it consume you…” I said.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I would gladly punch you,” she said lightly, and I smiled, giving her a squeeze.

“You have to tell Tony about this,” I told her. I felt her body tense.

“N-No,” she whispered.

“You can’t keep this from him. It will only get worse,” I said.

“Okay,” she reluctantly said. “But please don't tell him… I will tell him myself,” she said.

“Okay, but I can’t keep this a secret for long. It’s only because I care about you,” I said. She nodded, giving me a hug.

“Thank you for helping us,” she said.

“Us?”

“Tony and I,” she clarified. “You really came into our lives at the right time,” she said.

“I could say the same thing about you guys,” I admitted, kissing her temple. “Just hold on, okay? It will be okay. In a year or so, you’ll be in college, and life will be better,” I reassured. She nodded, and I saw her eyes droop. “Come on, let’s get you back to sleep,” I said quietly. She nodded again as I helped her lay back down.

“Thank you,” she repeated. Then, she clenched her eyes shut and I saw that she started to cry again. “C-Can you stay? I can’t have another nightmare tonight. I need you here right now,” she whispered shakily.

“Sure, sweetie,” I whispered, sliding back with her. I sat a little up, keeping my arms around her protectively. I couldn’t bear the thought of a demon hurting her.

She wrapped her arms around me, too, quickly falling asleep as she started to calm down.

I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my head back. I never thought that Alyssa would come to this kind of release—she always seemed like the happiest, most carefree girl, and I always thought that I paid close attention to her, making sure something like this didn’t happen.

I guess there was always a side an outsider couldn’t see no matter how hard they tried. The fact that Alyssa so easily hid it—and the way I still wondered if Bree’s relative okay-ness was all an act—scared me to death.

Notes

I’m not lying when I say I literally wrote this chapter in my head while I was in the shower. So naturally I had to write it down and naturally I had to post it. So enjoy a short chapter that is kind of important to the plot and such (Pardon the time lapse, btw). Yay for frequent updates! (Now I really need to go to my homework… heehee… and not to mention I have 123081274 billion other stories I need to update, too. Oops, sowwy!)