as the front door opened. More than just her father had
arrived. S ll, she couldn’t bring herself to care enough to
inves gate, con nuing to choose to climb into bed. Alt‐
hough the voices grew louder and even through a closed
door, Annabelle could hear the hint of malice in their
voices.
That’s not really important, what ma ers is, you’re gov‐
ernment property, and it was Mr. Adams and my job to
watch over you un l we were given orders otherwise.”
Annabelle was hardly able to comprehend any of the
words her mother way saying. “We were to raise you as
our own, give you the typical life. You were the daughter I
always wanted and I’m so sorry, Annabelle. It wasn’t sup‐
posed to end like this,” Her bo om lip quivered and she
stood up from the table and Annabelle’s eyes shot to her
mother’s hip, where a gun was strapped ghtly against
her jeans.
Her name was called, clearly by her father, which
was unusual. Normally, Mr. Adams would calmly walk up
the stairs and summon her for whatever he needed. With
a complete lack of emo on, due to all of the other odd
happenings from that day, Annabelle opened her door
and entered the hallway. Just as she reached the top of
the stairs, she could see who her father had been arguing
with.
“Mom, what are you saying? What is that?” Anna‐
belle’s throat had begun to squeeze with panic, her
breath was coming rapidly. “Did you tell her?” A low
growl came from the doorway of the kitchen, where Jus‐
n stood behind Mr. Adams, who was staring venomously
at Jayde, “She deserved to know,” Jayde spit back, Anna‐
belle had never heard her speak so angrily, “She doesn’t
deserve anything,” He growled back, “She’s not ours, and
she’s no longer our problem.” All Annabelle could do was
con nue si ng in her chair in complete and u er shock.
“Jus n?” She abandoned her slow stride and
dashed down the stairs, determined to finally get some
answers, “What’s going on?” Jus n’s face was somber
and his body language told her that he was uncomforta‐
ble and anxious. She crossed her arms and turned to her
father, who was smirking down at her. Annabelle didn’t
know what his expression was for, but she wasn’t a fan of
it.
When neither of the men spoke, Annabelle
backed away and called for Jayde, “Mom, where are
you?” She turned and walked briskly into the kitchen,
where she found her mother. She was expec ng to find
her hovering over the stove, humming gently whilst pre‐
paring the evening’s meal, but that was not the case.
Jayde was si ng at the table, hands folded in her lap,
head down. Her immaculate posture had been aban‐
doned as her shoulders slumped forward. Annabelle had
hardly ever seen her mother unpresentable, but here she
was, her hair hanging in frizzy ringlets over her face. She
had traded her dress for a simple black t‐shirt, something
that had never happened.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Her shoulders