Chapter songs: Ophelia by the Lumineers.

*****

Dustin stays with me in his living room all afternoon. We don't talk much. At some point I fall asleep and he stays there on the couch with me, falling asleep too.

"I've missed you these past days, you know," he mumbles out when I've woken up.

I sit up, detaching myself from his side, feeling awkward.

"Hey, sleepyheads," Mrs. Swaz steps into view. "Dinner is ready."

"That was a long nap," Dustin yawns out, stretching his arms.

I chuckle quietly.

Miriam is quiet during dinner. It's obvious she's in a mood, but no one presses her.

"Hello, Blade." Mr. Swaz smiles.

I return one of my own before taking another bite of food.

Dinner progresses with small talk, the usual lively conversations absent due to the tension between us teenagers.

"Can you spend the night?" Dustin asks me, turning to his parents. "If that's okay with you guys, of course."

Mrs. Swaz speaks up. "It's fine. As long as her parents are okay with it."

My breath hitches when she says that. Usually, the mention of my parents doesn't affect me, but with the recent news of Melissa being the reason they're dead, I keep reliving the day they died everytime I'm reminded of them.

"And you're sleeping on the couch. No one gets pregnant on my watch." Mr. Swaz jokes which earns a light smack on the arm from Mrs. Swaz.

"Arnold!" She exclaims looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry about him. He hit his head once."

"Yea," he grins. "Falling for you."

Mrs. Swaz blushes at the cheesy line, and Dustin laughs. "Mom! You're so easy. That was the cheesiest thing ever."

"Yea. Even I wouldn't fall for that," Miriam pipes up, her moodiness seeming to evaporate.

After dinner, the family watches a movie before everyone retreats to bed. I told them my parents would be okay with me spending the night because I really don't want to go back to Melissa.

Dustin lets me sleep in his room. He gets the vibe that Miriam is still in a weird mood, so he gives me his room and takes the couch.

"Here," he says handing me a t-shirt and some pants of his. "Bathroom is down the hall. Last door on the right. You go change and I'll switch the sheets."

I nod, making my down to the bathroom. The shirt Dustin gave me swallows my body, the soft material coming to my mid thighs. The sleeves come to my elbows, still showing the deep vertical cut on my arm. The gauze I had on was soiled since I haven't been changing it like I was supposed to. I sigh deeply, heading back to his room.

Dustin's eyes hone in on my arm as soon as I step into his room. I give him a tight lipped smile, thanking him in sign for the sheets.

Do you have gauze? I show him my phone screen. I don't want to ooze and get blood or anything on his sheets.

He nod, leaving the room. I take the chance to look around, examining his space.

Dustin's room is all Dustin.

The walls are covered in posters of bands I don't recognize and pictures of him and friends. His desk is cluttered with his computer, speakers and cords. There are small paintings propped up on a little table parallel to his bed. He has comics books on a small shelf that also has a couple more paintings and pictures. The main theme of his room is red and black, and I notice some LED lights line the upper corners of the wall.

Dustin comes back in, catching me looking at one of his paintings. He doesn't seem upset by me snooping around, but his demeanor is still cold. It probably has to do with the veritcal stitching taking up most of my forearm.

"Here," he says, handing me a first aid kit.

I take it from him, sitting on the floor.

"Do you need help?" He asks me after a couple seconds. I shake my head, not wanting to upset him even more.

Of course, he doesn't listen and insists I sit on his bed as he helps me rewrap my wound. I end up showing him what to do, and it's easier with his help than doing it myself.

"You know your way around a first aid kit," Dustin observes softly, his voice holding an edge. I shrug in response.

We sit together in silence for a while until he bids me goodnight.

I have a hard time falling asleep. I try listening to the songs on the Ipod, but all that does is makes me overthink. I get up, pacing the room. I take a closer look at all of the pictures and paintings around Dustin's room. I notice some drawings on his desk and I look at those too.

I know I'm being nosy, but I had no idea Dustin was so good at art. My favorite so far is a self-portrait of him. It's not anatomically correct, but the emotion he put into it can be seen in the finished product. He names all his pieces and he named it self-portrait which is how I know that's what it is.

I'm not good at critiquing anything artistic, but I still appreciate it. If I think it looks cool then it's cool.

Finally, I give up on going to sleep, deciding to head downstairs to get a glass of water.

"Can't sleep either?"

I gasp when I hear Dustin. I didn't expect him to be awake. He's sitting on the couch, resting his head on his hands as he looks at me.

I get us water and sit with him on the couch.

"Thanks," he says, taking the glass from me.

We sit in silence again until I pull out my phone and type: Your art is really good.

He chuckles when he sees the screen. "You kept snooping around my room, then?"

I smile sheepishly at him.

He glares playfully at me, but I can tell he isn't truly upset.

How long have you been doing it?

He shrugs. "From since before I was adopted. I don't know exactly how long though."

I had no idea he's adopted.

He laughs at my surprised expression. "We're learning a lot about each other."

Tell me about your art. I type into my phone. The low battery warning flashes, but I ignore it. The time says it's a little after eleven. Not as late as I thought.

"Well..." he trails off. "Uh.. I don't know what there is to tell. I just like it."

I chuckle quietly, waiting for him to go on.

He sighs. "It started off as doodling. I used to leave pen marks all over my books and on anything I could leave a mark on. The orphanage I was in finally gave me a sketch pad, getting tired of me drawing all over everything." He has a fond smile on his face. "I still have the sketch pad. The first drawing is a random pattern of sprials and lines. That's all I used to draw until I discovered painting. Then I played around with other styles of art. I did a bit of sketching as well, but painting is where my heart is at."

I'm leaning on the head rest of the couch, enjoying listening to him.

"Am I boring you?" He asks jokingly when I yawn.

I shake my head, wanting him to continue.

"Enough about me. What do you like to do?"

I shake my head again, not wanting to talk about me. Everything has been about me the past week. I want to focus on something else for a while.

Tell me more about you. I demand. He smiles when he reads the sentence.

"Fine." He shifts in the couch, leaning his head back on the pillow propped on the arm rest. "I like skate-boarding. Before we moved here, I used to go basically every day to the skate park with my friends. I've trashed so many shoes from doing that."

He continues on, telling me about how he used to train at his uncle's gym, that he likes collecting CDs and how someone accidentally elbowed him in the face at a concert. Somewhere between that story and the one about him getting in trouble for spray painting his old principal's car because he didn't do anything about Miriam getting bullied- I end up laying down with him. Since the couch isn't big enough for both of us, I'm half on his body; half off, and Dustin adjusts me so I'm on top of him.

It feels intimate, listening to him speak while I lay with him. He has me laughing and smiling a lot. Like he always does. I like how he tells stories, or maybe I just like him.

Eventually, I drift off, the sound of his voice and his heart beat putting me to sleep.

*****

"Wake up!" I hear someone say, but I snuggle deeper, not wanting to wake up.

"Blade! Dustin! Wake up!" The person hisses and I slowly open my eyes, my vision blurry.

"As cute as it is to see you snuggling together, mom and dad will be down soon." Miriam tells us, an amused smile on her face.

"Morning," Dustin grumbles out, his voice thick with sleep. I get off him, allowing him to stretch.

"How'd you sleep?"

I smile, giving him two thumbs up.

We have breakfast together, Mr. Swaz leaving for work before everyone else. Mrs. Swaz doesn't work as many hours as him, and she has today off so she stays with us.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to see an unknown number is calling. I press the answer button, holding it to my ear as I walk outisde.

"Hello, is this Imara Robinson?"

I haven't heard my full name in a long time. Hearing my name so many times recently slowly chipped away at my walls.

"Hello? Is this Imara Robinson?" The voice sounds again.

"Yes," I croak out. "I am Imara Robinson."

The person goes on. "Can you come down to the morgue at your earliest convenience to I.D a body."

My blood runs cold. "O-okay." I stammer out, my voice croaky and low. It sounds forgein to my ears. I haven't spoken in so long.

The person explains a few more things and then the call ends. I remain rooted to my spot, my mind going miles a minute as I try to process the call.

Why do they need me to I.D a body?

I start shaking, my head spinning, and my mind goes straight to Faith and all the horrible things that could have happened.

"Hey," Dustin peeks his head out. "Are you okay?"

I shake my head, feeling myself rapidly start to break down. He wraps me in a hug and I immediately start sobbing into his chest. I tug him closer to me, trying to muffle my noise by pressing my face into him.

He rubs my back softly, holding me for as long as I need. I don't know how long we stand there until I finally pull myself together. I move my head from his chest, my arms still wrapped around his torso.

"I..I need your help," I whisper out hoarsly. My voice sounds raw and comes out scratchy. It'll be a while before it starts sounding normal.

Dustin looks at me in shock, but simply nods. We untangle ourself from each other, but he keeps his arm wrapped around my shoulders as we step inside.

"What's wrong?" Miriam asks, sounding distressed when she sees my no doubt tear stained face.

"She needs our help," Dustin answers

"How?"

"I don't know."

I take a deep breath. "The morgue." I croak and Miriam's eyes widen.

"You're- you-"

"Not the time, Mir. Mom!"

Mrs. Swaz comes downstairs a few seconds later. "Yea?"

"Can you drive us to the morgue?"

Mrs. Swaz looks at her son with worry. "The morgue? Why?"

"Blade needs to go."

"Oh, honey," she gasps, looking at me. "Is everything okay?"

I shrug.

"Let's go." she quickly grabs her bag and we all follow her out to her car

Twenty minutes later I'm slowly walking into the hospital, my blood pumping in my ears as we follow the halls to the morgue.

I can't bring myself to talk anymore so I type into the phone that I'm here to I.D a body.

"Imara Robinson?" The lady asks and she nods. One person is allowed in with me and Mrs. Swaz volunteers herself, holding my hand as I walk in. My grip tightens as they pull out a body, my mind reeling as they slowly lift the white sheet.

I gasp, staggering back. Mrs. Swaz braces me as I start to tremble again.

"Is this Melissa Ashfield?"

I nod, feeling every emotion rush through my body.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

****

If you see any typos, feel free to point them out. Ya girl can't do it all.