eigh

usly absent. Brock was moody and withdrawn, caught between loyalty to his famil

d it underground. Fiona was too proud and too obsessed to simply give up.

Geneva anymore, so she turned her attention to t

voices from his room, the sharp, angry cadence

e for a grown woman to be living with her adoptive b

s is her home! I' m not kickin

ot your re

t or with him giving in, exhausted and worn

tactics. She started trying to police my life, pos

she asked one afternoon, her tone deceptively casual as she pruned o

p," I replied, not breaking

s. A girl with your... situation... needs to be extra careful about her reputation. You

ng to give her the sat

e tried it with

. "She seems to be going out a lot. Maybe a curfew would be a good idea? We wouldn'

d a long-stemmed white lily, held it up to the light, and then, with a pair of

crisp as the morning air. "Implicitly. And we don' t govern our fa

ll. Anothe

affirmed my place. The more they affirmed my place, the more insecure and frantic she became. Even

tic energy that filled every room she enter

did somethin

delicate table by the window sat my most prized possession. It wasn' t expensive or grand. It was a simple, silver locket on a fragile chai

cking, Brock trailing behi

eing so difficult about this, Brock!" s

flailing. Her hand swept out, ca

locket slid, catching the light for a brief, heartbr

cracking against the wood was s

d and broken, the fragile hinge torn apart. The two halves lay on

lute silence f

ir. She looked down at the broken pi

Oh my God! Calleigh! I am so, so sorry! I' m so clumsy! I didn' t

her eyes, I saw no ap

of dark, twisted

patient, quiet, peace-

-