After Monday, Callas told Embry that he should go home and spend time with his mum, rather than stay at her house. Embry, reluctantly, agreed, of course, and asked Jacob to pick him up from Callas's house after he had dropped her off with the keys to the Jeep. He made her promise to call him if she needed anything, she said she would, but it was obviously a lie, she couldn't ask so much from him—after all, he already spent so much time with her. Which left her alone in an empty house. It was unusually quiet the first night, but she ignored it the second night. The only reason why it had been as bearable as it had been was because of Henry and a few of the boys that kept her centered with gravity. Sure, she was alone, but she was still able to text Henry as he did a live commentary of the shows he was watching, sometimes he would FaceTime just so Callas had a bit of background noise as she worked on her computer.

Although she had constantly checked her phone to see if Reed had joined the living and responded to her, the only messages she received were from Henry, Embry, Seth, Quil, and Anya. Her hope in him began to dwindle and she wasn't sure for how much longer she could take it, even though she knew he was alive. Anya had been keeping her updated on Silas continually throughout the days. Callas tried to keep a straight face as she had biked home after her last lesson on Tuesday, but it was getting harder to pretend that everything was okay. Callas decided to skip the last lesson on Wednesday, going to the cafe after her second period. She had brought her bike to school, chaining it up beside Jacobs motorbike—which he surprisingly didn't comment on as he watched her lock it up and walk straight into school. It was as if the boys were ignoring her now instead of it being the other way around. After she told them to keep her updated and find out more about Reed, they had also decided to drop off the face of the Earth—but in a different way.

She still saw them during the day, but they weren't telling her anything that she wanted to know. It stung. They were the only ones who seemed to know anything about Reed and his well-being, but they were keeping it away from her, despite her need to know about it in order for her to stay afloat. Soon enough, Quil had stopped texting her completely, he didn't bother keeping up a casual conversation—that didn't revolve around Reed—with her. Seth seemed to be struggling as well as of the past day or two. The only constant string of messages came from Henry and Anya, occasionally Embry—but it would be pushing it to say that he was, in fact, keeping her updated like he promised he would. Sam must have told them to knock it off, to ignore her and push her away. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been this difficult for her to get a word out of them. Whenever she was with Henry it was as if the boys and herself were two ends of different magnets—only repelling each other instead of attracting—which made it harder for her to try and talk to them.

Callas decided that maybe it was for the best, not texting them, at least. Henry was still in school when she decided to leave. Making sure that no one was watching, she pushed open the front doors of the school and made her way down the steps. Her eyes were already glued to her bike as she walked over. She fumbled with the lock for a few seconds before it clicked, unlocking her bike from the chain—that she shoved into her bag. The metal of the bike felt almost frozen, the sharp air had made it painful to touch. Callas let out a sigh as she got on her bike, slowly pedalling out of the parking lot and to the right, towards the beach, towards the cafe. Electing to have not pulled out her phone to have music playing was a decision that she wasn't sure was a good or a bad one. The ride was silent, and a lot longer than what it would have been if she had got a lift from someone—but the only people she knew that could drive were M.I.A. in her life, despite being as close as a single desk separating them from her.

With the shake of her head, she began to pedal faster. All she wanted to do was disappear for a little while, where no one would find her. Just so she could scream at the top of her lungs that life screwed her over and it wasn't fair. What could she have possibly done that made her life this bad? Was losing both of her parents not enough? Did it have to take away Silas and Reed too? Whatever it was, she wanted to get her hands on it, tie it up and set fire to it, watching as the flames flickered and burnt 'fate' and 'destiny' straight into the ground, down to hell where they came from. All life had ever done was hurt her, she didn't want any of it anymore. If that wasn't bad enough, the sky above her slowly formed a darkening cloud, the air became static as small bursts of electricity crackled in the air. Thunder and lightning. Which, would mean rain as well. Just when she wasn't prepared for it. Of course. But she didn't dare look up, she kept her gaze forward as a loud bang sounded from the heavens above her and the sky opened up. The rain that fell felt like small knives slicing into her skin, sharp blades of glass pelting her skin—although that could have been the hail stones.

Shakily, with one hand, while the other clutched the handlebar tightly, she lifted the hood of Reed's old college football jumper over her head, the white fabric soon began to feel heavy as it soaked in the rain. Her father's flight jacket managed to keep most of the rain from soaking into the rest of the jumper though. A few moments later, as the clouds began to clump together, the sun disappeared, leaving her in a faint light, difficult to get through, even if the rain didn't blur her vision. She pedalled harder, right up until the chain couldn't be forced to go any faster. The bike sped down the open road, her legs ached slightly as she stopped pedalling, her feet stopped in motion on the pedals, letting the bike drift on its own, straight through the puddles that began to form. Callas closed her eyes for a few seconds, tilting her head down as the pellets of hail bounced off her and her bike.

A loud horn from up ahead caught her attention, her head shot up as she saw a large truck driving towards her, the blaring headlights caused her eyes to widen and the fear of God to strike her, a few curse words left her lips as she turned the handle to the other lane—the one she was meant to be in—and passed the long, road-train like, truck. After her quick change of lanes, she began to lose control over her bike. The stones and rocks along the edge of the cliff, before it dropped down to the beach, caught her off guard before the front wheel snagged on a jagged rock, sending her forwards off the bike, the palms of her hands bracing her as she skidded across the road. A hiss left her lips as she lifted her palms up, turning to lay on her back. It seemed as if the world was against her. She lifted her arms to cover her face, her elbows up, facing to the sky in front of her face, her hands curled up into fists, she bent her knees up, the fabric of her trousers now ripped and torn away as she laid in one of the puddles. From where she was, she could hear the faint ticking of the bike wheels as they continued to spin until it slowed down more and more before it came to a complete stop.

Callas knew that the truck driver didn't mean for that to happen, it was her fault anyway. The truck was no longer close enough for her to be seen in the rear-view mirror, so she wasn't going to be checked and asked if she was okay or not. She would only lie anyway. It's what she seemed to be doing a lot of over the past few days. Lying about being okay. She couldn't cry though. She hated it. Callas tried not to cry at most things if it were possible, only doing so when the stress had caught up to her, or when she watched those she cared about in pain. Like her father and Silas. She sat up slowly, placing her arms on her knees as she brushed the small stones, rocks, and tiny flecks of broken glass from the palms of her hands, hissing as it stung. She wiped the blood on her trousers, ignoring the blood on her knees and other patches of scuffed, torn trouser material, before standing up slowly, stumbling towards her bike.

The chain had come loose. With another sigh, she rubbed her right eye with the side of her hand, pulling away to see her knuckles also bleeding—but she wasn't sure how she had managed to do that when her palms were the ones scraping across the ground. Callas fumbled with the chain of her bike, groaning in pain as the oil on the chain touched her fresh wounds. She picked up her bike, making a note to pedal slower, as she pushed it forward, away from the uneven terrain. Her right leg swung over the frame as she sat down on the seat, pushing off the ground with her left leg, beginning to pedal once more. Callas shook her head, annoyed at how her life seemed to be playing out recently, maybe she deserved it, but she wasn't sure. Nonetheless, she continued until she made it to the cafe, from what she could see, as she took the chain and lock out of her bag, there was only one person inside, an old woman who seemed content on just watching the rain fall down the window.

Unsure of what she actually looked like, Callas moved away from her now locked bike—although she very much doubted that it would be stolen even if it wasn't chained up—and pushed open the door to the cafe, hissing as she forgot the palms of her hands were cut up. Her heavy black boots dragged across the ground as she walked over to the booth where Embry had taken her, she sat down and placed her elbows on the table, resting her head on the back of her wrists, her head down, staying like that for a few moments to catch her breath. She swallowed and let out a small cough while taking her bag off, placing it beside her, digging around for her phone in her pocket before a throat cleared beside her. She looked up to see one of the waitresses offer a sympathetic smile, holding out some tissues to her. Callas blinked and slowly reached out for them, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Your forehead is bleeding, Sweets," the waitress—who's name tag declared as 'Daisy'—told her in a soft voice.

"My—?" Callas reached up and touched the right side of her forehead, quickly recoiling.

"Here," Daisy muttered as she carefully turned Callas's face towards her. "My two little brothers are forever getting themselves roughed up. Twins." She shook her head with a small smile. "What happened to you? You get in a fight?"

Callas could barely control her voice, "Nah," she muttered. "Truck."

"You were hit by a truck?" Daisy, whose left hand gripped Callas' chin softly, pulled her head back with wide eyes.

"What? No!" Callas shook her head, regretting it as it felt like her brain was rattling around. "No, I was biking in the wrong lane and swerved."

"Oh," she breathed out in relief, continuing to lightly dab away at her forehead. "Deep thinking?"

"Something like that," Callas mumbled. "I know I probably look like I got in a gang fight, but it's not that bad."

"Sweets, your forehead is bleeding and dripping down to your eyebrow, your legs look like they just went through a wood chipper, and your knuckles are about as beaten as egg whites." Daisy raised her eyebrows. "Oh, and would you look at that, your palms are scraped to high hell as well."

"I'd hate to know how you'd describe me if I actually fell off the side of the cliff," Callas laughed out quietly.

"What?" Daisy pulled away again.

"I was—" Callas forced a smile, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter. Could I just get a coffee please?"

Daisy stood up straighter, nodding her head, taking the bloodied tissues with her before she threw them in the bin, making her way around the counter. Callas forced out a sigh as she leaned her head back, hitting the wall lightly before she crossed her arms and stared up at the ceiling. She knew that if Reed was still around, none of this would have happened. In fact, if the Wight hadn't clawed its way into her life then a lot of things wouldn't have happened. But it was too late for her to go back and change it now, she had no control over anything it seemed. She closed her eyes, surely no one would mind if she took a small nap for a little while. Who knew, maybe it would all just be a dream, and she'd wake up to a happy family and a relatively healthy future. But she knew her life wasn't a Hallmark movie. It was far from it.

In front of her, she heard the clatter of ceramics being placed down on the table, she opened one eye and looked down. Her coffee was steaming and there was a small muffin on the table. "Uh, Daisy, I didn't—"

"It's on me, Sweets, you looked like you could use a friendly gesture." Daisy shrugged from behind the counter, smiling kindly before she turned to clean the area by the coffee maker.

"Thanks," Callas mumbled after her, sitting up straighter, pulling the coffee cup towards her.

Daisy was right, but Callas could use a whole lot more than just a friendly gesture. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, which thankfully wasn't as ruined as she thought it was, just a few smudges of water and dirt from inside the pocket. She wiped it off with her sleeve. There were no messages from any of the boys like she had hoped, but of course, why would there be? It wasn't like they were really willing to offer her any information on her brother. She turned the screen off, setting the phone down on the table. Callas didn't even bother checking the time, she'd go home when she wanted to, it wasn't like anyone would be staying up late wondering where she was anyway. The warmth of the coffee cup felt nice in contrast with how her wet clothes were making her feel. She took a sip and closed her eyes, enjoying the taste while she still could before she drank it all. The bell above the door rang, but she didn't bother looking up. There was silence before she heard someone slide in the booth she was in, just in front of her.

Callas looked up as Henry settled into the booth with a smile, crossing his hands over the table, linking his fingers together. "Hey. Hi."

"Hey, Hen." Callas tilted her head.

"Oh, I, uh, I skipped," he admitted sheepishly.

"Why?"

"Couldn't find you." He shrugged, looking down at the muffin.

"You want some?"

Henry looked up at her and ducked his head down. "Can I?"

She slid the plate over to him. "Leave me some." Henry glanced up at her with a look on his face and his left eyebrow raised.

"Of course." He shook his head. "Why wouldn't I?" He chuckled.

"How did you know where to find me?" She asked as she lifted the coffee up to her lips.

"I used to come here when I skipped school when we first moved." He shrugged. "They have great coffee," he told her just as Daisy placed his own coffee on the table.

"Enjoy." Daisy smiled before she walked off.

"They kinda just know what I'll have as soon as I walk in. I'm one of those regulars." He grinned.

"I hope to be like that one day," Callas replied with a warm smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

Henry smiled back as he lifted his own coffee cup to his lips. At least Callas could be sure of one thing, Henry was like a beacon of hope in her life right now. She sat back on the chair, placing her cup down as she watched him break off a piece of the muffin, biting into it. There was some part, in the back of her mind, that wondered if Henry was going to be the only good thing in her life from there on out. He always seemed to be there for her, just trying to make her feel like she was normal and not slipping off the edge of sanity. He was the one who pulled her into the light when the darkness crept up on her. She wondered if her crush on Embry would last if he kept pushing her away. All she knew was that she was desperate for something to make sense, and so far, that something was Henry.