My way back finds me walking in the middle of the night through the old factory route. And I'm not surprised when I see Scar walking through the night on that very road, still sporting her new shiny black hair. I want to give her a piece of my mind about it, but even I can tell it's a lost cause at this point. It's not like she can magically turn it back to its original color anyway.

"There you are," she says to break the otherwise silent night.

"You found me," I say with a bit of sarcasm.

"That, I did."

"Were you looking for me?"

"Everywhere."

"Why?"

"Because you disappeared on us and left your cellphone at home."

I laugh lightly. "And you didn't get the hint that I might not want to be found, then?"

"Always shielding yourself behind that petty sarcasm," she complains. "Even when I'm talking seriously, for a change."

There's a brief silence, and a car speeds by next to us. I take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I left you alone with my mother."

"We had a great time until the sun was setting and you didn't show up. She's worried sick."

"She gets what she deserves."

"I think she deserves better," she counters. "And deep down you know it, too."

"Bah."

She pulls out her phone and types a message. "There. She knows you're okay. Now let's go home."

"I'm not going there."

She rolls her eyes. "There we go. Then where on earth are you supposed to spend the night, you dimwit?"

"I don't know; even the factory sounds like a plan at this point."

"For the record, I didn't mean your house. I meant my home."

"Oh." How is it that she always manages to make me feel stupid? "Can I?"

"I don't know..." she backtracks. "It's either spend my night with my father, or spend it in the forest with you. What would you do?"

"It's either get another scolding from my mother and possibly my father given the time I imagine it is, or spending the night in the middle of the forest with a crazy chick with a scar."

"Very funny."

"Hey, you started it, not me."

"Just shut up and follow me, I know a shortcut."

And, I mean, of course she knows a shortcut. I bet she knows every single tree and weed that grows in this forest. Despite this, it's amazing how she can tell a path between the trees like this, in the middle of the night. I inquire about this.

"Everything looks the same here. How can you tell one tree from the next?"

"I've been getting lost in these woods even before you were born," she explains.

"Like you're older than me."

"I am. I'm eighteen."

"Bullshit."

"For realsies," she says, turning her head to look at me. "I missed a couple years of school due to the events with Amanda and Rude."

And she somehow is interested in me? Reminds me of Martin and his back and forth thing with Leslie Durham.

"I'll believe you just because it doesn't even matter."

"Wow, seriously?"

"Yeah," I reply. "I don't care how old you are so long as you get me out of this forest safe and sound."

"Are you worried I'm leading you somewhere unsafe?"

"No, but these woods look kinda creepy."

She giggles. "Don't worry, we're almost there." And sure enough, a few minutes after that, we end up at the familiar sight of the log cabin. Abigail unlocks the door for me and says, "Come in, I'll make something to eat."

"I'm not hungry, though." I lie. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast.

"I don't care. You're going to eat something if you're going to stay with me. Is that clear?"

"Since when am I staying?"

"Since you don't want to face your parents at your own house," she replies. "Or did you have any better plans?"

"No, that works for me," I say.

"Then you'll stay put and I'll cook something for you to eat."

She starts walking towards her house, but I stop her.

"Abigail?" I call, and she turns to face me. "Thank you."

"You idiot," she says, closing her eyes for a second. "You will never give me enough credit, will you?"

Ah, one of the many Martin's catchphrases. I chuckle at the thought of him, which aggravates Abigail.

"What's so funny?"

"I know someone where I come from who said that all the time."

"I bet someone ridiculously fancy with the most striking green eyes."

"Actually, that description is spot-on!"

"Hah! I knew it!" she says, delighted, and her eyes shine under the moonlight.

Once inside, she cooks some quick mac n' cheese that tastes like heaven because of how hungry I am. I empty the pot she cooked, and then she offers me the remains of her plate, which I decline just not to be extra.

"You sure?" she says. "For someone who claimed not to be hungry, you look especially ravenous."

"It's mac n' cheese," I say, like it explains anything. "You don't turn down mac n' cheese."

"Well, you just turned down mine."

"Because that's your plate, of course."

"I'm not hungry, though," she says, and pushes her plate my way. "You can have this if you want it."

She leaves me alone on the table and sits on her bed, draping herself with a blanket while I take the leftovers in her plate and scarf them down.

"How was tea with my Mom anyway?"

"Oh, that poor woman," she replies. "She's so lonely in that house, alone with Mrs. Jansen..."

"So she gave you the talk about how hard it is to take care of Grandma."

"No, she didn't," Abigail says, and pats the spot next to hers in the bed. "I saw that first hand. She wouldn't stop talking about you, though."

"Oh, I can imagine," I say, sarcastically. "This boy, I don't know what I'm going to do with him, he's like a delinquent, always out of the house, getting into fights, and defying me!"

There's a minute of silence between us, and she once again pats on her side. I take the hint and she instructs me to rest my back against her, resting my head on her shoulder, and then she runs her fingers through my hair softly, gently scratching my scalp.

"What are we doing?" I ask, finally.

"Shhh..." she says in a whisper. "Embrace this moment. There's peace here now."

She's right, this is a peaceful moment I should embrace. I lean on her, getting more comfortable and enjoying her delicate fingers on my hair.

"Can I ask you something, John Foster?"

"I have a feeling you're going to ask anyway."

"Can you not fight me for one sentence, at least?"

"Sorry. It's a reflex."

"That's what your mother is worried about, actually. How you always are picking fights no matter what people say to you. You didn't use to be that way before, I heard."

"Well, no. I was generally better behaved than I am now," I reply, closing my eyes. The whole moment we're having right now is inviting to sleep.

"So, my question is, do you hate your mother?"

I take a moment to reply. Do I? I don't think I do. "I think it's more accurate to say I disagree on the things she's been doing since she decided to move here."

"Is that why you give her a hard time whenever you can?" she asks calmly enough for me to know she's not picking up a fight.

"Yes."

"Do you enjoy doing that?"

"It's not a matter of enjoying it or not," I say, opening my eyes again. "Again, it's a reflex. Something I do on autopilot. She screwed my life, so I feel like I deserve the satisfaction of doing the same thing. And it came with the added bonus of making me feel heard and seen, which is something that didn't happen before." I take a deep breath. "Before, I'd run through town with my cousin and do whatever shit we wanted, of course, trying to play by the rules. Both my parents worked all day back then so I was never really paid enough attention, except by Aunt Sugar, who was like a mother to me."

"Don't you miss those days?"

"Of course I do," I reply on instinct. "But that's no longer an option for me."

"Well, your mother said she's willing to consider sending you back if she can get you to be the John you were back then."

"And there you go, see? She just doesn't get it," I say, and she hushes me again. "I can't go back there now, nine months later, like nothing happened. Because a lot of shit happened. Rude happened, the farm happened, Lyle and Charlie happened, and also you happened. And all of that changed me. I can't go back to being the silent mama's boy I was before all of that." I take a minute to calm down, letting Abigail's touch soothe me. Then she asks a question I wasn't waiting for.

"Also I happened?"

"Yes. You happened," I reply. "I can't deny I have some feelings for you after all we've been through together. But that's not on the top of my priorities right now so I didn't give it much thought."

"How about you take your time now?" she asks quietly. "I probably don't have to spell out that I do have feelings for you, too."

"Even though all I did was get you into trouble?"

She kisses the top of my head and says, "You fool. You saved me. You saved me from being alone with my thoughts for the first time since my mother died. You saved me from myself."

I want to ask her more about her life with her mother, but I also don't feel like changing the subject.

"It's funny, you know?"

"What is?"

"Us. The dynamic between us," I say, getting comfortable in her embrace. "It's no wonder Lyle thinks we're dating. We're sometimes like an old couple who lived together far too long. But then we have moments like this, and it's so worth it."

"Even though I keep screwing with you."

"Yeah, you do," I say, and we both chuckle lightly.

"Sorry," she says, and there's a pause filled with silence. "Now's your turn to apologize."

"Why should I?"

"For giving me these moments."

"Would you rather not have them?"

"I will definitely miss them once you're gone."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, you are," she whispers, and kisses the top of my head. "You don't belong here, and you know it."

I don't. Or do I? I can't give her a straight answer right now.

She further hammers nails in my coffin. "What's in here that you treasure so much? The one person you treasure is miles away from here in Cerulean Port or whatever."

"Celadon Bay," I reply.

"There."

"I repeat myself; I can't go back there anymore."

"Bullshit," she replies. "You're just scared to death of what you might find there, and trust me, I get it."

"Like hell you do."

"How do you think I felt when I was coerced into going back to school after what I did to Amanda?"

She waits for me to reply for a few seconds, so I guess it was a genuine question. "Like everything you loved and treasured was gone forever? Like nobody would understand why you did what you did?"

"AND... like I didn't belong there anymore. See? I told you I got it." She scratches my scalp gently. "And what actually happened is that nobody talked to me. Nobody cared. I became an outcast. Except for Corrine, who talked to me once and so I had no choice but to threaten her to stab her twenty-eight times, but that's a different story."

"Wow."

"I know."

"You're not helping," I say, chuckling a little.

"Let me put it this way: Do you want to spend the rest of your life in this shit-hole?"

"Wow, when you put it that way, I probably don't, no," I reply on instinct. "The rest of my life sounds like a really long time."

"Not if you stay here getting in trouble."

I hate to agree with her on this, but she may have a point. We stop talking altogether after that, and her delicate fingers on my hair finally put me to sleep.