Chapter 1

When I heard the door swing open from where I was standing and facing the stove, I internally groaned.  I didn't even need to look.  That's just how common this was.  How sad was that? Didn't even need to look.  Of course, I guess I shouldn't really complain about how often he enters my house not invited; I intruded into his house just as much as he did into mine and it was gradually an accepted habit of us both now.  We came into each others home for food - and if we entered just to have a conversation, then the excuse was it was because of food.

Besides barging in on a regular basis,  I knew it was him because I didn't have too many friends around here that would pop in like this.  And all the time, no less.  I just stared down at my work as I stirred and flipped some of the pieces of chicken.   It bathed under the dim light of the stove as I moved them, and a new tone of sizzle entered the air. Strands of black hair hanging around my vision,I heard the door shut on its own a few moments later as he came in.

I heard his heavy footsteps come in on the vinyl floor of the kitchen.  A small kitchen at that.  It didn't really complement the man now in it.  It was just a little space with a round table big enough for three people at max.  The counter was a U-shape consisting of the fridge, sink, counter top.  The light fixture was just a simple line of bulbs attached to a metal feature hanging from the ceiling.  It managed to light up the whole space if the window above the sink didn't do the job looking out over the front lawn.  Across from the front door and past the space of the kitchen was the living room which was a bit bigger.  But with his footsteps and a presence that called for appreciation of him being here, he made the area feel even smaller.  Especially as he neared where I was standing at the stove. 

I smirked softly though when I heard the patter of my little friend scrambling quickly out from the hall to greet our unwelcome guest and distract him.  I heard his little paws echo his excitement as the sound of him dancing around Jackson made me stifle a chuckle too.  Jackson wasn't one that cared for animals I could tell.  He didn't seem to care for a lot of things or give any attention to what others usually would.  But because Jack calmed down a little with time and didn't bark as much when greeting people, I think he grew a liking to my little buddy.  I knew Jackson was rubbing his fuzzy head and calming him down when he finally spoke up. 

"Chicken again?" Jackson asked in a monotone voice a few feet from me.  He left my dog be and came closer until I could see him just barely from my side vision. With that, I could sense him staring down at the food still cooking.  I didn't take my eyes off it to fully look at him, I was so hungry.  And though it's been a little while, I'm sure you guys recall my obsession of food.  That hasn't changed. I scoffed at his words that deterred me from focusing on the awesome smell.  His words in which I didn't care for in my kitchen, ladies and gents.  Have respect for the food being cooked in other people's kitchen! 

"You dissing my chicken?" I asked, as I flipped the few remaining little rectangular pieces in the pan that still needed cooking.  I finally offered up a glance to him, turning and letting my eyes find his brown ones next to me.  And like always, he was just as professional.  His stance, his facial features, and even his stillness.

The only thing that's changed about him since I first met him was his willingness to open up.  Still a hard, smart, jackass?  Oh yes.  But he at least seems to care even if he doesn't show it.  He always checked up on me and we usually were together when I wasn't at work or busy.  Even though we both say over and over we hate each other, we still hung out enough.  So that did change.  Physically, he looked the same. Even as I looked him over right now, I saw no real difference from the first time I saw him.  His dark brown hair was slicked and combed back like usual as if wet.  His bushy eyebrows, detailed jaw structure... all the same. Dark clothes, even now in the summer time.  He was wearing a worn out black shirt over his protruding strong chest.  But that's probably just because he was always standing straight like there was something shoved deep up his ass. Clad in jeans, I searched his focused eyes and noted his flat lips. Always so serious....

He raised his eyebrows and glanced from my eyes back down to the pan.  "No.  I'm 'dissing' you for not being more creative.  You know how to cook.  Try something else if your laziness permits," he mumbled and gave me a pointed look that made me roll my eyes. 

When I came to face the stove again and put my full attention on it, I saw him leave me be and could hear him retret back a couple feet.  Just as I heard him sit down at the table behind me and on the other side of the small kitchen, I was already speaking.  "Uh I'm sorry but I don't remember inviting you over to share my lunch with you.  Why do you always barge in and eat my shit? You should eat with Jack on the fucking floor,"  I shook my head in disappointment as I flicked the stove off and eyed the chicken, laughing under my breath.  All done.  Now to consume this magic.  "So really, your the lazy one who doesn't bother making your own lunch."

"And you don't walk into my house across the street like you own the place, raid my fridge, and eat what is cooking?" he asked back in a louder voice.  "You're just as bad if not worse of a leech than me, Morgan," he sneered the last words sightly under his serious tone.  I scoffed and grabbed a paper plate, filling it with half the chicken I made.  I already knew Jackson would be here to eat it anyway, who was I kidding?  This was something that happened every other day at the least.  Including him calling me Morgan. 

Yep.  That was my name now.  How do I like that name, you ask?  I think it sucks fucking ass, that's what I think!  Jackson knew it too.  He always deliberately called me it just because he knew I didn't like it.  Morgan Honeywell.  I took his last name which was fine I guess; I was meant to be his niece and didn't mind Honeywell.  But Morgan?  Don't like it.  I even tried to change it but apparently, my 'parents' both wanted that to be my name because it was my grandmothers name too.  Jesus yeah don't even get me started on all my background information they gave me.  

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed myself a water bottle among all the beers in the fridge and took a seat across from Jackson at the little table.  "You know, I thought you were off your period after all this time but I guess not," I said in relation to his 'leech' remark and my name I hated. Well he can shut it and blow his dick, right guys? 

He stared at me for a moment and ignored what I said. Then he glanced over to the stove as I began to eat.  "You're not going to serve your guest?" he asked in a condescending voice. 

Guest? Ha!  "My 'guest' can get his fat ass up and get his own damn plate," I said to him, making him crack a small smirk.  Rolling his eyes, he mumbled something under his breath as he got up to get the rest of the chicken I left on the stove.

Once he sat down across from me, and started eating with me, we fell into our usual conversations.  Which occasionally dragged and made me groan.  Like the subject he brought up as we ate silently.  I could see it coming from a mile away.  To be fair... it's only been a week since it happened and still fresh in both of our minds.  It was something I tried avoiding thinking about.  Tried letting it fade with the other memories that I tried to force away throughout the years. I needed to forget about what happened last week but he brought it up.  Bitch.

"Okay so," he said, chewing his chicken as his eyes rested on his plate.  Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his face - rather delicately - before placing it back next to his plate on the wooden table.  Glancing up to me as he swallowed, his eyes searched mine rather nonchalantly.  But guarded - always guarded.  "You going out tonight?"

I groaned.  Jesus Christ.  I guess I got lucky.  I mean, I got away with not talking to him about it for a couple days.  But he was persistent always on me moving my life along. It got annoying but I understood his side of the matter.  "No, I'm not.  I have to babysit the neighbors son again and they already paid me to do it.  Then I have to work the next two days.  No time," I said curtly.  And yeah, it's true guys.  I actually wasn't as bad with kids.  I could handle them and I didn't constantly think about my past or my sister, wasn't nearly as awkward either.  Staring at Jackson, just to piss him off, I told him the other truth along with my other words.  "And even if I didn't have plans, I wouldn't go out.  He just took me out to dinner a few days ago.  I don't need him around me all the damn time."

He snorted and half rolled his eyes.  "I don't need you around me all the damn time.  But it's not like it kills me - completely.  Spencer is a nice guy.   And if anything, last week's meeting justifies giving him even more of a chance."

I sighed.  Meeting.  There it was - what I didn't want him bringing up.  Every couple months, Jackson and I meet with some FBI agents that update us on how everything is going.  How their search is going of Reid, their progress, and I always demanded an update of how the people in my life before this are doing.  But this meeting was the first in nearly a year and the time between each one seemed to just be growing and growing.  As time went, my hope was damaged.  To the point where I had to start accepting this as my new life - permanently.  And that meeting with them  made me realize how I could never go back to before.

It's been just over three years now.  And each time a meeting came by, it was always 'we are close' or 'he slipped away and he will come up again.'  They did inform me for certain that he was still looking for me though and I needed to stay hiding.  Three years.  And it was to the point where I realized, even if they finally do catch Reid, that I might not be able to go back home and be Albany Higgins again.

I fought on as Morgan because I wanted to make Luke proud.  I wanted to show him he made me a better person.  And though he couldn't see me, though he doesn't know where I am, and though we held no contact of any sorts, I did have relief - mental relief pervs.  It came in the form of the fact that the FBI did in fact grant my wish to somehow manage to get word to him I was in the Witness Protection Program.  So Luke at least knew I was okay and in hiding. Because Reid's men are still watching Luke though, they had to inform him discreetly but did so successfully.  That I was safe and that made me worry much less - because he now knew.  However... he didn't know anything more than I was in hiding and safe and protected.  He did know that it should just be a year - they informed him of that.  But Luke didn't know about the status of Reid.  Didn't know if he was still even after me.  All he knew was that I was in hiding and I knew that helped him, gave him peace. For the first year at least when, in his eyes, was my only time I'd be hiding.  The FBI didn't tell him I was still hiding.

But if I ever did have that option to get my life back together... I wasn't sure if I would want to return to my home and with Luke.  Just for the fact that I would be scared shitless.  My love for him admittedly was still there.  That was scary too.  And my fears, I learned, would be realized if I went home and to Luke.  Because according to the FBI... when I requested an update, they informed me of what they know to be true since they are always keeping track of Luke (because it means keeping track of Reid's men who are always near Luke).  So they knew everything I wanted to know.  And they told me even if some of it made me cringe.

They told me within the first year and over, that Luke was a total wreck, even knowing I was safe and in hiding.  However, as time went on, and by the time two years came, they started to tell me Luke was getting better.  And with each meeting, they reported he was doing better and better - and his family too.  They told me how he was getting out more, returning to a normal life, and how he bought himself a new house.  It hurt strangely, to know he was starting to move on, get over everything.  Because it made me think he forgot about me.  It made me sad because I didn't want to think he wouldn't care anymore.  I knew I needed to be glad he was just better though and not be selfish about it.  Of course, it was pure pain knowing it could be because he thought I abandoned him.  He thought I was free two years ago and just never went home to him. So it was hard knowing he began to move on. 

And that was a hard acceptance over the years.  Letting it sink in that he was okay... better than ever apparently.  But the acceptance did come.  And with it came the fear I wouldn't even return, and wouldn't ever want to.  And now, I didn't think I wanted to go back with what they informed me even more last week.  It justified staying here, my relationship with another man I met, and in trying to let go even more because I knew I needed to.  It made me want to stay as Morgan for the rest of my life.  Because last weeks meeting... it hit a nerve with me and if anything, it convinced me even more that this search for Reid wouldn't end and that I could never go back and be with Luke.

I was informed he was seeing another woman, as I already assumed he was.  And they didn't hold back on the detail.  Said her name was Kathrine, that she and him have been inseparable for weeks.... I tried not getting upset over it.  I mean... I knew for too long that he moved on. It sickened me but I couldn't expect for him to wait.  Especially when the FBI actually informed him I would only be away a year.  And he waited and when I didn't come home, couldn't come home, he moved on.  It was the hardest thing I ever went through after that first year.  Knowing he was moving on and trying so hard to do it without me. 

I sadly accepted it through the hurt. He thought I abandoned him.  A reoccurring thought through two years now and I had to get over it - even though last week made it worse.  Because now, I officially know he is with another woman.  But I guess I'm glad he isn't suffering because of me anymore.  I just wish he knew I didn't abandon him.  After two years, that's the one thing that bothered me the most.   

I learned to get over that part though, bit by bit.  Because now onto year three, I lost hope in returning, lost hope in being with him, and it was an acceptance I had even before last weeks update for me.  One that I forced onto myself with a new man after I knew in my mind Luke moved on and I felt I would never get home.  Three years, no results from the FBI, and knowing Luke moved on with the reports throughout the second year and now of him being with a woman.  I was forcing myself to try to move on knowing Luke had.  And now just finding out he was getting serious with another woman and not just having sex with them... it was validation of what Jackson was hinting at.  Had been hinting at for so long and even now today as he looked at me.

His brown eyes in mine searched, and finding something that made his jaw clench.  The gaze that knew what I was thinking over.  Over my past.  Which, after he found out the real details, pissed him off. Everything about my past.  How I grew up, was treated, and even worse the fact that he knew I was in love with Luke.  It made him push even more for me to get with Spencer, a man who was really quite great.  I never really started seriously consider him but now... I feel like I need to.  I owe it to myself.  And even to Luke who would want me to try to live a life again and try to get out of this rut.

"I know Spencer is great.  Last weeks meeting made me realize I need to get on with my life in that department.  I like time.  I like space and giving the dude fucking time.  Christ, sorry I don't want to get a little more serious right away."

"From seeing him spend a few nights here before, I feel I had a right to think you were a big girl ready to move on," he scoffed.  "But no, just fucking the lad.  I guess that's nothing too bad."

I groaned and rolled my eyes.  Because yes, I had sex with the guy. Sue me. It took me a while to commit to that but I knew I had to.  Luke had moved on after the first year.  I knew it was time I did these past few months.  It was much harder to do that mentally then physically though, guys.  So don't think I wasn't being loyal to Luke.  It's been fucking years and I don't think I'm ever going home.  He moved on, I needed to in some aspect.  It's not like I was entering the marriage/divorce stage of my life with this guy.  I'll get married when pigs fly.  And I'll most likely get divorced the day those pigs fall and break their asses - which would probably be right after they fly.  Not ready to bother with that mess.

"I'm not just fucking him, you asshole," I said, leaning forward.  "I slept with Spencer only twice.  But I do care about him.  He is nice, funny, we get along.  I don't need to rush it though," I shook my head, taking a violent bite of my food.  Food always helps the nerves.

"That's good," he nodded.  "And don't rush it.  It's not like I'm in total favor of you being with a boy.  I just know it's good for you," he mumbled, almost in disgust at the idea and it made me laugh lightly. "You need some good.  Been looking extra ugly lately," he said seriously, though I knew he was kidding.

"And you look like a fucking princess yourself," I smirked as I chewed a bite of food.

"Don't you have something you should be doing?  Like keeping your mouth shut when you eat," he said, rolling his eyes and we were back to how we usually are around each other.  Not serious, insulting each other, and not caring much.  Then he would be weird and act caring and interested.  Bipolar personality in my opinion.

"No," I said, chewing much more obnoxiously with his eyes narrowing on me, getting annoyed as I allowed some chicken to even fall from my mouth to my plate, just to disgust him.  I stared him down.

He raised his upper lip in disgust even more and eyes were judging on mine as he shook his head.  He stood up with the plate of what was remaining and started walking towards the trash can.  Appetite gone and having ate enough, he threw away the rest of his chicken and walked to my fridge, opened it, and swiped a bear from it.  Watching him as I tried to get the chicken situation in my mouth under control, he turned back to where I was still sitting at the table.  Looking only mildly grossed out, he sighed and cracked the can open.  I watched as he look a swig, leaning his back up against the cupboard and watching me. 

He looked annoyed again.  But this time, it was by the subject he brought up.  "So when is that little shit coming over?" he asked.

I smirked.  He really didn't care for kids.  How funny was it that we lived in a neighborhood surrounded by them?  And this particular child I was watching tonight especially annoyed him.  Because though these people lived right next to me, their kid seemed to enjoy playing across the street it Jackson's yard.  Bang on his windows in the morning, shot bee-bees at him before.... But I mean if I was that young, Jackson really would be the perfect target.  It's just easy to get him worked up and pissed and that's where the fun is.  I'm ashamed to admit I tipped over his trashcans once because I was upset at him and blamed it on the kid, whose name was Jacob.  Perfect name for a troublemaker.  I did like the kid though.

I glanced over to the clock above the sink.  "About two hours.  Parents are going out on a date," I scoffed and smirked.  "I'm going to let him tear up your front yard too," I teased.

He didn't like my little 'joke.'  "No your not."

I smiled and pointed to my face.  "Do you think I give a shit if you say no?  Does this face... look giving a shitable?"

He smirked and shook his head.  "I don't know.  But your face could be easily shitable if that's in range," he said.  I wasn't sure what to think about that.

"No, buddy," I said, turning my finger and pointing it at him.  "You're face is more shitable.  I would love to shit you," I said and tried stifling my laugh as I got up, finished eating.  I started cleaning up as I continued speaking with Jackson.  "Anyway, what are you up to later while I babysit?"

He shrugged.  "Well I might go to the bar.  But from the sounds of it, I might have to keep watch on my own property," he said, scoffing slightly. 

*** 

"Morgan, I don't think my dad likes you," Jacob said from where he was sitting on the couch, using his little finger to make a pattern along Jack's back.  Who was enjoying laying in the boys lap. wagging his tail.  Jacob's blonde eyebrows lowered in concentration as he ran his fingers in my dog's fur. 

Walking in from the kitchen to the living room, I was holding a snack he asked me to get for him.  I got to the couch, which was against the wall adjacent to the kitchen entrance where he sat.  I smiled seeing the two of them.  I laughed softly at his words.  But I more than agreed.  "I don't think he does either."  Anyone could see that though.  Each time I talked with those folks, the chick is always really nice and talkative.  The dude was nice but always glared at me each time I swore or said a dirty joke. The guy would glared my ass down while his wife cracked up and blushed usually.

"He's nice though."  I set the bowl of chips he asked for on the little glass table in front of the cushioned ouch while he watched cartoons and played with Jack.  I sat down besides the kid and smiled as I glanced from his little blonde head and blue eyes to the screen. The light green wall behind the TV held photos.  Of my 'family' that didn't exist.  Of a mother who looked too old to be my mother, a dad who looked just as fake too.  The FBI had to offer the ugliest people too to be my cousins, who were also on the wall.  More realistic I suppose.  "You're lucky to have a father like him," I said.  It's not like your dad most likely sold you off to an obsessive kidnapper but I'm sure there are worse dads.  Even though we never found out the connection between Reid and my dad, it was to be assumed that was it. It pissed me off to still not have answers to that shit.  I try not letting it get to me like it did the first years.

I relaxed back into the couch.  After all, me and Jacob just did some serious work.  Which was literally to dig a hole in Jackson's front yard.  Digging a hole can be a bitch but be worth it if you piss someone off. But because Jacob was a curious kid, I wasn't surprised when he asked me a question after I just started to relax into this spot.  A seemingly harmless one but one that made my stomach twist slightly.  "Why do you always have a plain silver ring and a tight plain necklace on?" He asked, exaggerating the 'plains' and hinting that it looked stupid or boring.  Though the reminder sent a spike in my heart rate, I chuckled softly and turned my head, looking down into his eyes that looked at my ring and pointed to both.

"Um, well," I cleared my throat.  "It's just something I've always had, always wore."

"But why is it so plain?  My daddy gets mom the stuff with stones and diamonds on them!  Don't you think those are pretty?" he asked.  Oh so curious... of course he was.  Couldn't not care or keep his mouth shut on the matter.

I scoff.  "I guess so.  Some things have more value because of what they mean, more than what they look like," I pointed out. 

"What do the necklace and ring mean then?" he narrowed his eyes on me, crossing his little arms.  Didn't even touch the fucking chips yet... he better or I will.

"It means no more questions.  Eat your chips before I do," I said, looking down to him, cracking a smile. 

He laughed at my remark.  "That's a pretty stupid meaning."

"I know.  Maybe that's why it's plain," I said, sighing as I looked down to Jack and pet his little head.  Laying over the kid, his sweet beady eyes found mine as I stroked his fur and smiled softly as I thumbed the stone on the ring that was hidden in my palm.  What the kid also didn't know was that my necklace was tight and plain because I wore it backwards so the crystal hung down my back and out of the way.  I needed to let go of Luke and those questions, reminders, pains, and memories that made the pain worse.  But I never dared take them off.  

By the time Jacob fell asleep watching TV with Jack laying beside him, I grabbed his chips he couldn't manage finishing and had my little snack as I turned the channel and sighed.  Because really, though it seems like a boring day - and it really was - it was better than worrying.  Better than running and hiding defenseless, scared you will get killed.  It was much nicer and though it wasn't exciting, I didn't stop loving feeling normal and bored.

I didn't stand out.  I wasn't Albany.  I was sane, didn't have a past, wasn't infamous.  I was just Morgan - even though I hate that fucking name.  I can't complain though.  I was safe.  Luke was safe and so was his family which seemed like ages ago.  Just me, my stupid uncle, and Jack.  It was nice.  But it had to be balanced with the frustration of putting up with living a constant lie.  If someone asked me what happened to my mother, I would have to say she lived across the country far away and that I didn't in reality kill the bitch.  If someone asked where I lived before this, the answer had to be Choteau, Montana.  If asked where my father works, I couldn't say 'don't fucking know; never knew him.'  I would have to say in some power plant.  It was a pain.  But it was the price for something so grand as boredom. 

***

"Did he behave for you?" Charlotte asked, Jacob's mom, as she stood on my doorstep.  Her husband, Mr. Grouchy, stared down at me disapprovingly but offered a smile nonetheless.  I glanced down to his son, who rubbed his sleepy eyes.  But when he woke up a bit more, he started to wander home.  It was only a few yards away anyway as I faced the two of them.

"Yes.  It was great.  We did some redecorating in my uncles yard," I said smiling.  It was too dark for them to see what I was talking about when they glanced across the street to his two story house compared to mine.  I know.  Bull. Shit.  "Then some TV... low key night," I nodded.

Charlotte's wavy brown hair that moved down to her back moved in the slight breeze of the night.  Her soft eyes in mine were kind and sweet and her husband smiled down to her, wrapping an arm around her back as the breeze got stronger.  Made my heart clench slightly but I forced that feeling away.

"That's great," she said.  "He can be a bit of a handful sometimes.  Trust me.  You'll find out someday."

I didn't think I would.  It was just one more reason to consider never returning.  Luke wanted to have kids and start a family and I would have been too scared.  I still didn't want children in fear of me somehow repeating my family history.  I was damaged, even still, and was angry and though I like children, I'm afraid I would somehow get screwed up even more.  It's something I'm paranoid over still.

I chuckled with her nonetheless and nodded.  "Oh I can imagine," I said, looking down as I noticed Roy - her husband - grasp her hand sweetly.  I chuckle and asked, "So did you guys have a good time?"

"Yes.  It was great.  Nice dinner.  Good food and a movie," he said to me as my eyes looked up to him.  His eyes just as kind but more cautious, his spiky brown hair was stiff in the breeze. 

"No hanky-panky?" I asked.

She cracked up laughing and rested her hand on my arm.  "Not yet, darling.  Not yet," she said, smirking up to him and I watched him groan.

"Okay, time to go.  Too much wine for you," he said looking down to her as he gestured for her to head back to their house, smiling softly to her.  He never really was one to stay and talk long.  Fine by me.  I was the same way really.  Never was a people person.  Wonder why.  My mother taught me so well.

"Okay well thank you again Morgan," she nodded to me and smiled, starting to head back to their house with her dude.  I could only imagine how nice that was.  To have someone you love like that.  It might happen again.  I couldn't be torn up forever when I know he moved on - even more so I learned last week.  I needed to too. 

And despite that, I did what I do every night when I lay in bed at night.  It was natural, comforting - and no, I'm not talking about masturbating, freaks.

After they left, and before Jackson got back from the bar to see what we did to his front yard, I got ready for bed.  The house I always found was just too quiet, especially at night like this.  Nobody here besides me and Jack.  Just the creeks in the floor boards beneath my feet when I would walk; just my own breath and the simple sounds of a door opening.  No birds invading your ears from outside even or crickets. Stillness.  It was nice but at the same time, this type of peace only goes so far. 

I brushed my teeth, brushed out my now straight black hair, and was wearing just a red camisole and blue panties to bed.  Jack following behind me into my room down the hall, my room was the furthest down and on the left.  And upon entering, it was a nice sight for me like usual.  My room was always clean.  Shockingly enough I suppose.  My bed with a patterned blue bed spread rested on the wall adjacent to the one the door was on.  With a nice headboard, it was also a nice queen sized one - enough for King Jack to have his own side.  Even though he still liked sleeping right up against me.  That's something that I always loved about him and never changed. 

On the far side of the bed was my little bedside table and on the other side was a matching one.  Both oak to match the wooden floors, both supported tissues, and both had a small drawer.  One supported a lamp and the other had my clock. The one closest to the door also supported a gun in the drawer.  After all that's happened, I feel I have more than a reason to carry one and have one by me.  I was in hiding if you people didn't realize that.

There was also a really long but high up window along the furthest wall, supporting light purple and orange striped curtains and blinds.  The closet was on the same wall as the door.  But what flipped me out the most when I moved in was the fucking ceiling fan.  I remember that was one thing that cheered me up when moving in a little. Along with the walls - which were already painted a soft teal color. My room was pretty diverse with it's colors you could say at this point. 

I also had a long dresser that was straight across from my bed and the only thing really on that wall.  It supported a nice mirror along it too and held such things like perfume, a brush, and certain bows that are still special to me and I will occasionally wear.  The rest of what I had of Luke's things... I had out.  I had the dinosaur he gave me on my dresser too.  I also had his coat handing on the back of my door.  Because though it hurts to think about him, and those memories are painful, I can't help but think about him when I know I can handle it.  And as I laid down in my bed with Jack, and flicked my light off, I did what I said I do every night. 

Sighing, I rested my tired body fully against the nice and cool sheets.  And in the process, I reached up to my neck and slid the chain along my skin.  More and more until the beautiful moon crescent charm wasn't hanging down my back.  But rather in front of me like it should.  Holding the charm in my hand, I could feel relief and pain at the same time.  Playing with my necklace was always a self conscious thing but it had a pattern and came when I'm relaxed.  When I want to be stressed free and to rest and can handle thinking about Luke.  It helped strangely enough in a way.

To think about him gave me hope to push on, knowing he would want me to be strong.  And that's what his things he gave me helped me do.  Reminded me I needed to push on and try to be happy.  It hurt - hurt bad and made me upset - but it helped.  Because I wanted to make him proud.  I wanted to make him proud I was living and pushing on.  The reason being that sometimes, it was so much harder to do than one would think. 

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Okay, a TON of stuff you guys are learning.  New everything it seems like but we are jumping ahead three years.  That's something I ask you all to keep in mind when you are reading.  I am sorry if the first chapter seems off - the first is always the hardest and especially with trying to handle three years worth of infomation.  I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Isolated!