"Billy can not stay over again," Sylvia's father said the night after. "Especially not in the same bed as you."

Her father walked in while she was screaming the night before. Billy had her embraced in his arms when her father barged into the room and forced him to leave.

Sylvia messed around with the food on her plate before rolling her eyes. "Billy always used to sleep over when we were little."

"Yes," her father said, and Sylvia jumped when he suddenly banged his fists against the dining room table. "When you were little! You two are older now, and I'm not stupid."

Sylvia stared at him before she furrowed her eyebrows and took a deep breath.

"You know what, dad? That wouldn't have even happened if you didn't throw away my meds! I'm terrified to sleep alone at night," Sylvia cried out, rubbing her hands over her face in frustration.

"You're not allowed to see him for two weeks," her father told her, before he stood up and practically threw his plate in the kitchen sink. "You're not allowed to leave this house. Quinn can come over, anyone except for Billy."

"What is wrong with you, dad?" she asked, standing up. "You've been acting off since I came home. Suddenly you hate Billy? You used to love him."

Her father paused, standing in front of the sink with his back facing her. He sighed and turned around to look at her.

"Sylvie, you're my little girl," he said, calming his tone. "I'm worried about you, and I know you're in a fragile state of mind right now, and that's perfect for a boy to take advantage of-"

"I'm sixteen, I am not a baby, I don't need you feeling bad for me," she cut him off loudly. "You're acting like you've never met Billy before! He's my best friend, Dad, that's it."

"Being sixteen doesn't make it okay for you to sneak around and have boys in bed with you!" her father screamed again, and Sylvia couldn't stand it anymore. "That's what your mother did. You want to be like her?"

She didn't even bother telling him that she'd never do something like that with Billy. Getting a knife stabbed through her chest would have felt better than hearing those words come out of her father's mouth.

"That's what you think of me?" she asked, her voice a whisper as tears pricked her eyes. Her vision of the tiled kitchen wall blurred completely as tears dripped from her eyes.

Her father sighed heavily, and he was about to answer, but Sylvia cut him off.

"I see that girl because of you," she told him. "It's because of you."

"That girl that you see at night isn't real, Sylvia. She's not. Get over it! You're not rescuing someone, you're talking to a hallucination!" he yelled, and she immediately began walking into her room.

"I'm not dealing with this right now," she announced, hearing her father's footsteps trail heavily behind her.

"Do not turn your back on me. I am your father!" he told her, his voice stern. She had never seen him act like this before. "I'm going to nail a wooden board over that damn window."

"Like fuck you are, get away from me," she told him as she grabbed her backpack off the corner of her chair.

"What do you think you're doing?" her father screamed, reaching to grab onto her arm.

"I'm getting away from you," she told him through her tears. She couldn't stop sobbing, she couldn't stop the influx of emotions that pulsed through her body. "I'm getting the fuck away from you!"

"You're gonna walk out? Just like your mother, right?" he asked, leaning against the doorway and watching as she threw clothes from her dresser in the backpack.

"Stop saying that!" she screamed as loudly as she could, her veins straining against her flesh as she cried. "Stop!"

"You should've stayed at the institution, Sylvia. You're clearly not well," her father told her. "They should have never released you. I'm calling Dr. Rayne first thing in the morning. You weren't ready to leave that place."

"Oh, why don't you marry Dr. Rayne? Huh? Since you love her so much," Sylvia spat at her father. "Go get married and have fucked up kids with her."

She zipped up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder aggressively, before pushing past him.

"Where are you going?" he asked, following her again. "You're not allowed to leave. You're grounded, Sylvia Elaine!"

She didn't answer.

She wiped her eyes to rid of the tears that were stinging them. Her cheeks were wet and her hair was sticking to her face as she rushed out the front door and slammed it behind her.

*

It was about ten o'clock at night when she stepped up to Billy's window and peered inside. His room was entirely empty, as well as dark, which was weird for him.

She lifted his window up, not surprised to see that it was unlocked, and she looked around again before stepping inside.

She slowly sat down on his bed, feeling tired from her endless crying the entire walk to his house. She knew that Billy's house wasn't the best hide-out, but he comforted her. She needed him.

Where was he?

She stood up and looked around his room, at the drumset he hadn't touched in a while, and the small amount of clothes slung over his desk chair and floor.

"I guess I'll just... wait for him to come back," she said to herself as she stood in the middle of his room, unsure of what else to do.

She paused and stared at the wall when she suddenly heard footsteps coming from the doorway outside of Billy's room. She prayed that it was Billy, but her instinct and the heaviness of the footsteps told her she should hide.

She looked around the room, before she opened Billy's closet and stepped inside of it, closing herself in the small space.

Her breath was heavy and bouncing off the door as she closed her eyes. Her heart was racing in her chest, pounding so hard that it hurt as she buried herself in a few of Billy's jackets.

Billy's door opened - Sylvia could hear so clearly from inside the closet. She heard another footstep close to the closet door, and she held her breath.

"William?" Frank's voice sounded.

Sylvia squeezed her eyes shut. She regretted ever stepping foot into Billy's house without him there. The amount of fear she felt was all too familiar - it washed over her body and froze her completely still.

"I swear that I heard something in here..." Frank trailed off, and there were more footsteps moving around his room.

She let out a shaky breath that she was practically turning blue from holding in. Her fingers were shaking. She didn't know why she was so terrified of his stepfather, she never even met the man before. But she felt a cold chill at the thought of him being near her.

Suddenly, the footsteps disappeared. Billy's door closed, and Sylvia waited a few minutes before she slowly creaked the closet door open.

The room was pitch black, but she didn't feel a presence anymore.

She emerged from the closet carefully to flip his bedroom light on, before she started immediately towards his window.

She tried to open it, but his stepfather had locked it.

She moved to unlock the window, before she heard the footsteps again.

She suddenly ran to the closet again, not having a chance to turn his bedroom light back off.

The door swung open, and Sylvia wanted to sob. She was so petrified as she listened to the footsteps circle around the room again.

"Who the fuck is in here?" she heard Frank ask himself.

She heard the footsteps move towards the door again, and she hoped that he would leave. She prayed and prayed in her head.

But the closet door knob twisted, and the door flew open, revealing Sylvia who had buried herself in the hanging jackets again.

Frank stood at the doorway, staring inside. His eyes were glossy and fixed on Sylvia, though they held relatively no emotion. Goosebumps stood against her flesh at the sight of him.

"Get out of the closet," Frank demanded, and Sylvia hesitantly nodded, before she slowly walked out of the closet.

"I- I was just looking for Billy," she told Frank, standing in front of him as he stared down at her.

"I know you," Frank said. "You're that girl that's friends with him. Cynthia? Sydney?"

"Sylvia," she said meekly. "I didn't know he wasn't home. I'm sorry."

She moved to walk towards the doorway, but she felt Frank's calloused hand grab onto her forearm.

"Not so fast," he chuckled, and though she refused to make eye contact with him, she knew he was staring at her.

Frank moved over to close Billy's bedroom door, and Sylvia stared at the wall in front of her as she heard the lock twist.

"Where... um, where is he?" she asked, trying not to make her voice so timid but she couldn't help it.

"I don't know, I don't care," Frank answered, taking a step closer.

"Um, is- is his mom home?" she asked, taking a step backwards. Her nerves were causing her voice to shake.

"Sleeping," Frank answered. "It's almost eleven at night."

"Oh," Sylvia let out a nervous chuckle. "Right, yeah, so... I should get - get home now."

"You're out of his league," Frank told her.

Sylvia licked her lips and stared at the floor. "I don't... know what you mean."

"You heard me. I said, 'you're out of his league'. You're... sexy," he whispered, his voice sending a wave of fear through her. "I know just what you need."

Sylvia couldn't breathe. Her lungs were locked as her back hit the wall. Frank stepped in front of her, and she could smell the harsh whiskey on his breath.

"Please..." Sylvia whispered, her voice trembling as he lifted his arm up and placed it beside her head against the wall.

"You need a man with experience," Frank said. "I don't know how William could land a girl like you," he said, as his fingers grazed slowly against her arm. "The only thing that kid fucks is his hand."

"I want you to stop," Sylvia said quietly, jolting her arm away from Frank.

"Stop what?" he whispered, as his fingers touched her stomach gently.

"I said to stop doing that, and let me leave," Sylvia told him again, her voice rising in pure fear.

"No, you're not going anywhere," Frank said, his deep voice filling her ears as she closed her eyes.

Anger filled her veins. This wasn't about to happen, she refused to allow it.

Frank moved closer to her, grabbing onto her hip.

Before he could make another move, she swung her leg back and shoved her knee his groin. Frank doubled over, swearing as he breathed for air.

Sylvia watched in horror as anger filled his glazed eyes, and he reached to grab her. Before he could, she sprinted towards the bedroom door, fumbling with the lock.

She finally unlocked the door, feeling him directly on her trail as she ran out into the hallway. Her breath was so heavy, and tears were running from her eyes as she passed Billy's mom, who was sound asleep on the couch.

She looked over her shoulder to find Frank standing in the bright hallway, his figure a mere silhouette. She couldn't control her shaking fingers as she flung the front door open and ran out into the raining night.

*

Sylvia sat beneath a tree in the woods of her backyard.

The winds were heavy and rain patted against the crunchy leaves from the treetops above her. She had her knees against her chest and her arms were locked around them.

Although she was only a few feet from her house, she refused to go back inside. She would rather shiver beneath a tree with stringy, wet hair than go back to her unruly father.

She was thankful that her backpack was still over her shoulders. She could up and leave if she wanted to, but where could she go?

She had no idea where Quinn lived, and she had no other friends. Where was Billy?

Sylvia jumped when she heard rustling of leaves beside her. She moved to stand up quickly, before she noticed it was just a small animal.

When the animal neared closer, she noticed that it was a dog. The dog was sopping wet, with matted fur, and she was very tiny. Her eyes were huge as she stared up at Sylvia, her tiny body shaking.

"Oh, my God, where did you come from?" Sylvia whispered, holding her hand out for the dog to smell.

The tan, fuzzy dog smelled her hand and started licking it.

"Where is your owner?" she asked the dog, before she took a step closer to get a better look. There was no collar around the dog's neck.

Sylvia reached out to gently pet the dog, feeling her wiry fur beneath her fingers.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," Sylvia said softly, looking around to see if the owner was anywhere near, before her eyes locked on a figure that was walking up to her house.

She had a perfect view of her bedroom window from the area she was sitting in through the woods.

She watched in pure shock as Helen trudged slowly towards the bedroom window, the backlight of her house turning on to illuminate the figure.

Sylvia saw Helen's tattered shirt and loose, dirty jeans. She saw Helen's emaciated stature, and she saw that Helen's ankles seemed to have a restriction against them. Handcuffs.

Sylvia's jaw dropped as Helen moved to her bedroom window to look inside, but couldn't see anything because of the curtain over it.

Helen banged on the window a few times, before visibly sighing in defeat.

Sylvia wanted desperately to help her, but again, she couldn't move.

The little dog on Sylvia's lap noticed Helen's figure, and began barking aggressively towards the girl.

When Helen heard the dog, she looked towards the woods, her eyes locking right on Sylvia's.

A whistle sounded, and echoed throughout the gloomy night sky.

At the sound of the whistle, Helen immediately started running, as best as she could with her ankles tied.

When Sylvia finally scrambled up to see where Helen ran to, she was nowhere to be found.