The days blur as time passes and I wait for Garrett's reply. Bruises disappear as scars multiply and Adam is still as persistant as usual. He wants to know why I'm so silent. He wants to know what 'that' scar is from and where 'this' scar is from. He wants answers from me and I'm just too tired to give them to him, so he finally just hands me a slip of paper with his phone number on it and shuts his lips.

But that doesn't mean he leaves me alone. No, he walks me to class and drives me home every now and again. Stepmonster, surprisingly, says nothing about it except a couple grunts followed by swigs off his bottle. A routine builds itself in the matter of a week and before I know it there are only a couple days left before I turn eighteen.

The weekend passes as nothing very interesting. I go out until dinner time and then make me and Stepmonster dinner. I don't question why he's letting me eat dinner with him. I'm carrying his heir, of course I need food. It doesn't mean he cares about me, he just cares about a son, someone to pass on his sick knowledge to.

Monday rolls around and I wonder if I'm ever going to get the answer from Garrett. It seems almost pointless to keep hoping for it--there are, afterall, only two days left until I turn eighteen--but I check the mailbox before I start off to school anyway. There, crushed at the back of the mailbox, is a letter with my name on it. I take out all the bills and grab up the letter, shoving the bills back in and carefully folding the letter so it's small enough to fit in my front pocket.

The whole way to school, I run over what to say to Adam, what to say to Boss. I practice it like lines for a play, over and over, mouthing the words out loud and whispering them in my mind, but none of it sounds... real, so I give up.

By the time I get to my locker, my hands are clammy and my heart is beating quick, anxious thuds. A part of me is hopeful and excited, another part is embarrassed and ashamed, and still another, larger part, is petrified. I open my locker and drop my backpack to the ground, unzipping it and grabbing all of my personal belongings out, shoving them in the bag. The textbooks and borrowed stuff stay in the locker while I kneel near my backpack, pulling the letter out of my pocket and hiding it down in my backpack as I open it.

The tear of the envelope sounds horribly loud to my nervous ears and I look up and side to side, waiting for Ally or someone of her crew to come steal it out of my hands, but there is no one.

My hands shaking, I lift the letter out of the ruined envelope and unfold it slowly, checking every few seconds for any sign of the Bitch Squad and their Pinhead security, but, still, there is not more than one or two hunched over freshmen. I speed up anyway, the shaking in my hands intensifying as my anxiety and fear ratchets up a few more levels. What if he said no?

The letter is completely unfolded and I look down and read as quickly as I can, worried about getting caught with it open now, because though it is short, it is personal.

Philena~

Yes.

You know I'll always help you if I can. Phi, don't let that bastard hurt you anymore, tell them now. Now. Hear me?

Call me when you need me and I'll be there sooner than possible (remember when Dad used to say that?)

I love you, hun.

~Garrett.

His number is listed after his name. All of his contact information is, and I suppose I'll need that when I tell them. For now, I fold the letter back up and stuff it in my bag, zipping it and standing with it slung over one shoulder. I still have half an hour before I need to be in class, and there are fifteen minutes until the buses get here. I don't know when Adam usually gets here, just that when he picks me up he gets here later than the buses, so I have a while until he's here too.

I sit on the stairs near my locker while I wait. My fear and anxiety slowly suffocate and hope or excitement I was feeling at the prospect of telling them about Stepmonster. If Adam doesn't get here soon, not only will all of my nails be bitten down to their beds, but all of my nerve will have vanished. I pull the letter out again and my eyes tear up at Dad's favorite phrase. I may have been young when he died, but I do remember it. He told me that the day I started kindergarten. Told me if I had any problems with older kids that his "Dad senses" would tell him and he'd be there "sooner than possible". I still don't know how he knew, but he did show up just in time one day. They were going to throw me off the 'big toy' and he'd come to school with my jacket because it was a colder day. He caught me. He almost didn't stay standing, because this was near enough to his short hospital stay that he had weakened significantly, but he caught me.

Now Garrett's trying to do the same. I just hope he doesn't fall like Dad almost did.

I hear the buses begin to show up and shove the letter back into my bag again, standing and heading to the student parking lot where Adam should pull in soon. I get there and see his car already there and already empty and look around the lot, wondering where he could possibly be. I would wait, but my nerve's about to fail me, so instead I head back inside. As I stride towards our lockers, I see him. He's just standing at his locker like a normal student. I breathe, slow, deep breaths, and go stand next to him.

"Adam?"

He turns around slowly and looks at me. I'm shaking, I know I am, but it's not with cold this time so I shake my head when he starts taking off his jacket, kindly declining. He frowns, confused, but then takes a longer look and looks at my eyes.

Usually, I would look away. I'd look away so no one could see into my eyes and understand me, but I need him to understand now, so I look him straight in the eyes, stop biting my lip and speak.

"I need to talk to Boss. Now." My voice shakes like my body is, but, though I am frightened, I am absolutely certain this is what I want to do--this is what I need to do.

Adam nods and waves to the principal as we make our way to the parking lot. The principal nods like he knows what Adam means by it, but for all I know he could think I'm the drug dealer. I probably look the part with the skin-and-bones image and bags under my eyes, scars on my arms. Doesn't matter, I know why I'm leaving the school. No one else needs to know.

We get into his car and, though I don't feel cold, he turns on the heater and some of my trembling stops. He looks at the road, avoids any sort of eye contact with me, and doesn't speak a word. I close my eyes and beg my nervous stomach to calm down. Throwing up will not improve things.

"Have you eaten yet?" When I answer with a subtle shake of my head, he pulls into a mini-mart. He asks what I'd like.

"Anything that's not too sweet." He nods and undoes his seatbelt, grabbing the door handle and pulling it towards him to open the door. I take a deep breath and catch him before he closes the door.

"While you're in there, can you grab me one more thing?" I'm surprised he hears me, but he pauses.

"What else?" His voice is gentle. He is not Cop-like right now, he's just Adam. Amazingly, that makes my next words even more difficult to push out. Maybe it's the lump of tears in my throat. Maybe it's just fear.

"A pregnancy test?"

The tears stream and I look away as he shuts the car door and enters the store.