Just as you were about to open the door, Thomas smacks his forehead, gasping. “Shit! I forgot to go see your father about those tires for the new car he's lending us. I'll be right back, I'm going to your parents house.”

Thomas tells you as he pulls out his phone and dials a number away, his back now towards you.

You stare at him for a bit, still shocked your parents accepted him into the family after you saving him. Your mother wanted you two to get together, but you told her no, that you were not ready for any relationship.

You just give a crooked smile as you unlock the door to open it, revealing an angry Isabella. You gulp down your saliva by accident as you stare at her angry glare, clearing your throat as you walk in, shutting the door behind you.

“Who was that, master? Another creation of yours that you want to hide from me?” She snaps.

“No, he's not a book character, he's real, just like me. Also human, Isabella— and no —pleaae do not try to kill my best friend. I'll never forgive you if you do.” You glare back by accident.

“He's also like a brother. So don't worry. I'm not interested in getting into any relationships, kiddo.” You ruffle up her hair as she looks up sadly at you almost teary eyed.

“Not even for me master?”

“You're thirteen years old in my story. I'm sorry to hurt your feelings, sweetheart.” You furrow your eyebrows as you frown at her sadden face, hating to say no, but it would be weird because she isn't real, right?

She doesn't have a heartbeat... Does she?

You eye her a bit, “Can... I check to see if you have a heartbeat?”

She blushes softly and clasps her hands together. “Of course!” She coos. “Neck or chest?”

You didn't answer as you press a finger against the bottom of her jawline on the side of her face.

Tha-dump... Thu-dump...

You silently gasp. “You're alive... But... How? Isabella,” You move your hand back to your side as you squat down to her height.

“Where did you pop up at and how?”

“Well,” She looks off to the side, thinking. “I was arguing with my bubby Tom and next thing I know, I appeared in your living room, next to the book.” She looks a bit sad.

You knew why; she was created to protect her older brother Tom and kill anyone who dared to hurt him, but she couldn't do that now. Maybe the story stops there unless you decide to write more.

Wait, that's it! You thought.

“What if I write about you going home or back into the book?” You thought out loud. Isabella tilts her head at you while poking her cheek. She smiles.

“That may work!” She says with a bit of hope in her voice.

Running up the steps, you grab your favorite [color] [pel/pencil] and your writing book. It was a handy down from your grandmother before she passed away a few years back.

You rush down the steps carefully to not miss a step and fall. Slapping the book down on the coffee table, you flip the writing book open to a blank page and get right to work.

(Any comments to how you would actually write this? I'd love to see them! Make sure you sign the end if you do!
:3)

Feeling sad by the thought of Tom being all alone and having Isabella not there to protect him from the evil world at hand, the author [Y/N] grows an idea. One that may get Isabella back to her beloved Tom.

[Y/N] starts to write down in great detail of how Isabella was sucked back into the book, her life here in the real world gone as she returns back to her story with her big brother Tom. [Y/N] was glad to have met his famous character, Isabella, but was sad she had to go, for he too, soon realizes his hidden talent.

“Done. Now... Let's sit and wait?” You question yourself, wondering if it will work.

Isabella seems a bit worried. “How many other books have you written?”

“About three or five, why?”

She bites her nails. “What if it's only the famous books?” She asks.

“Then Tom would be here too.” You suggest. She thinks real hard, then gasps.

“Where did you put our house?”

“Near the Town Hall, why?” You don't catch on to what she's saying. Then, it clicks. Why didn't you think of that?

“Maybe he's there!” You shout out. “But we can't go right now, I've got to finish up my homework and wait for Thomas to explain this to him— oh shoot! Cancel that, I've got to get you cotton candy and some clothes.”

You walk over and grab your coat. “What's your favorite color Isabella?” You ask.

“You should know, you created me.”

“People change, ya know. I just want to hear you say it.” You smile.

Is this what being a father feels like? You thought.

“Its grey.” She says.

Your eyes widen a bit, you put her favorite color down as a dull yellow.

Huh, people do change, rather you create them or not— they're going to grow to be their own unique self.