Matthews strapped Tilia in the car, still wearing the frown that slowly seemed to become a permanent fixture on his face. I knew it was my fault, but I wasn't going to relent.

I jumped into the front seat, avoiding to interact with Matthews in any sort of way while he got in and started the car. The tension between us was draining. It was thick and sickly to the point where I imagined that I could smell its poignant odor.

Salt and slush from the road landed on the windshield as we drove. The wipes worked soundlessly, but their movement held my attention away from the general inactivity around us. I could have gazed out the window, watching perfect houses pass by on our way out of the suburbia, but those houses only reminded me of the neighborhood where I grew up. A neighborhood where I was the odd one out.

My parents appeared normal to everyone else, but they never forgave me for the accident. They never looked at me the same way ever again. We should have been a happy family of five, but the four-year-old me put an end to that.

An accident. A horrible, terrible accident that I had to live with even if I hardly remembered what happened. They never spoke of it in front of me, not even my big brother, but I knew it was constantly on their minds.

My fault.

I shook my head as I caught the sight of a swing hanging from a large tree, lonely in a huge garden. Nauseous, I heard my baby sister's laughter, slipping out from her rosy lips seconds before she fell to the ground. That was the only part I could still see as a movie playing inside my mind. The rest was a blur.

"You okay?" Matthews asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Wasn't that a pretty lie?

The silence descended upon us again, and I was surprised. I thought he would want to keep the conversation going for a while, but I couldn't fault him for staying silent. The pain he felt was evident on his features and in the tone of his voice. That pain certainly made it more difficult for me to keep the distance between us, especially since the memories of my sister slashed me open all over again. Those memories would never let me go. I would never be free. I needed him, but I hated that feeling of vulnerability. The second I let him in, he would see just how ugly I was. He would keep me away from Tilia.

She sat in the backseat, clutching a paper in her small hands. Every now and then she would look at it with an uncertain gaze. She was unusually quiet. Perhaps she noticed the tense atmosphere. Strike the 'perhaps'. I felt bad. She was caught in the crossfire, and it was unfair.

"What are you doing back there, Tilia?" I asked, determined to distract both myself and her.

"Nothing," she replied.

"Have you painted something?" Matthews asked.

"Maybe."

"Can I see it?" I asked, turning my head over my shoulder

She placed the sheet of paper against her chest as if to protect it. "No, not yet."

"Is it for Ethan?" Matthews asked.

Tilia blushed and he chuckled, looking at her through the rear-view mirror.

I didn't know what to say or how to deal with the situation. It was obvious that the drawing was for me An oddly heart-warming gesture from a child I couldn't help care about. Had she known about me, she wouldn't have drawn anything. She would be scared.

"Maybe we can see it later," Matthews continued, and Tilia's blush receded. "We should go by the toy store later to buy some new crayons."

"Yes, please Daddy. Please!" Tilia's embarrassment flew out the window, replaced by pure excitement.

We kept the conversation going; Tilia acting like a buffer between us so that we didn't have to address each other directly. It worked until we got closer to the city, and I had to ask Matthews to drive by my apartment first. I needed something to wear.

"But you don't have your keys," he said.

Damn, I had forgotten about that. An odd thing to forget. The john still had my keys, my wallet and my cell phone.

"I guess that man you were with have them. I'll get them back for you tonight if you'd rather not meet him."

"I need something to wear," was my response.

"I'll buy you something before we go job hunting."

I should have been grateful, but all I could feel was discomfort. Relying on him was the last thing I wanted. However, I didn't have much choice.

Instead of replying, I nodded and spent the rest of the drive worrying about Sam and jobs. One thing that wasn't allowed to happen if we strolled around among coffee shops and restaurants was bumping into the dealer. I didn't want either Matthews or Tilia in danger. Not that I thought Sam would harm them, but my history should stay well away. I didn't want to connect the two worlds, not even by something as simple as a shared conversation.

I was on edge from the moment we stepped out of the car. Looking left and right, I trailed behind Matthews and his daughter, hoping that no one would recognize me. The feeling of being watched drove me forward until we entered a store that I wouldn't have dared step inside on my own. Shirts and ties, belts and polished shoes. Suits. I felt out of place.

"I can't go ask for a job at a normal place dressed like that." I pointed at one of the mannequins.

Matthews shrugged. "Maybe you're right. This is my store of choice usually, but I get what you mean."

I could very well see Matthews in here, trying on clothes and smiling with the staff.

"Let's go somewhere else then," he continued, returning out on the street with Tilia in tow.

The next store we visited was better, but I still felt like an impostor. The price tags mad me gag. "Don't look at those," Matthews said as he caught me reading one of them. "Pick something out that you like."

Sighing, I looked around.

"Hi there, would you like some help?" one of the assistants asked. Her blonde curls seemed to bounce on her head. She beamed at Matthews before looking me up and down, repressing a frown. She judged me. Surprise!

"Ethan, do you want some help?" Matthews asked.

"No, I'll just have a look." I turned away and continued to sort through the piles of jeans. I had no idea what size I was, but that didn't really matter. As long as they fit reasonably well, I wouldn't care. One couldn't afford to be vain on the streets.

Disregarding my answer, the assistant came to my side. "I think these ones might fit." She held up a pair of black jeans.

I didn't know if I was happy for her help or if I wanted to disregard her and pick something else. In the end, I took the jeans and headed toward the fitting rooms.

Getting out of the sweatpants, I tugged the jeans up my legs and frowned when they stuck. Skinny jeans, I should have known. She probably thought I was one of those kids when she saw my rugged appearance.

"Do they fit?" the assistant asked from the other side of the door.

"Not really. I'm not looking for skinny ones."

"Are you sure, I bet you'd look smoking hot in them."

I rolled my eyes. Totally inappropriate comment. Not that I would tell her.

"Why don't you show them to us," Matthews asked.

Like hell I would.

"No. Just bring me another pair." I didn't want him to see me in these ones. They showed off just how skinny I was, and that wasn't a compliment.

The assistant came back, throwing a pair of dark blue jeans above the door. "Try these and see if you like them better."

It took a minute to get out of the skinny ones and into the new ones. At least the blue ones didn't stick to me like a second skin. The fit well enough. "I'll take these," I said, not caring if they looked nice or not. This was about getting a job, not about getting a make-over.

"I wanna see," Tilia chirped.

How could I refuse?

Feeling far too self-conscious, I stepped out of the booth and turned in Tilia's direction. I wouldn't bother about the other two.

"I'll get you a smaller size," the assistant said, scurrying off before I could reply.

"I don't need a smaller size," I said, even if it was too late.

"She's right, though," Matthews said.

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

"Fine. I'll just wait outside." Matthews turned away and took Tilia with him. Rejection. Again. I should be used to it by now, especially since it was my doing.

Torn between the wish to take back everything I had said and the wish to stay the hell away, I returned to the booth and sat down on the small chair, resting my elbows on my knees and hiding my face in my palms.

I just wanted this to end. No more drama. No more rejection. No more feelings. It all hurt too much.

A/N So, a bit more of Ethan's tragic past revealed. Matthews and Ethan stray further and further apart it would seem. Soon there will be an abyss between them. I hope they'll stop doing this to each other before the damage is irreparable.