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I walked up to my father and stopped when he towered over me. He points to the gun, then to the space next to me.

"He left. No need to worry about him." I said. He growled and started walking to where I had come from, in the direction Natsu was in.

"No! Dad! Stop it! He won't interfere! I promise!" I said, pulling at his arm with the gun. He loads it and gets ready to shoot. I look ahead and see Natsu walking back to his place. Right as my father pulls the trigger, I grab his arm and pull it, making him shoot somewhere else. 

I saw him collapse onto the ground and screamed. There was a bullet hole in his chest, very close to his heart. I drop his arm and start shaking.

"No... No. No. No!" I start screaming. I see Natsu come running back as fast as he could. He fell onto the ground next to me and held me tight. He looked over to my father, but didn't say anything, for I was ranting.

"Murderer!"

"I did it!"

"Why me?!"

"Daddy!"

"No!"

"KILL ME!" I screamed. 

"What did I say about your life?! I care, so you should care! I can't handle the thought of you dying, so don't you dare!" Natsu said as he tightened his grip.

"But I killed another person? My own father!"

"You never killed those people you spoke of! Those deaths are in the hands of your father. And honestly, I don't think that he's alive. I'm sorry."

"I care, but I don't. It's common nature to cry over the death of a family member, but him?! I...I... I just can't!" I said, squeezing into Natsu.

One of the neighbors called the ambulance and they came to take my father away. The police asked us what happened, but Natsu just said that he was drunk and had the gun in his hands. They let us go, and Natsu walked me to my house.

"Since you father is gone, do you mind if you show me around?" Natsu asked as I gabbed the door knob.

"I'll show you, but you won't like what you see." I said.

"You say that a lot. You know that?" He says as he smirks. I rolled my eyes and slowly opened the door. I walked in first and turned on the light. I turn around to see his reaction, but he was purposely not showing his real reactions.

"You weren't kidding when you said that your house had white walls with red spots." He said with disapproval in his voice. 

"This is supposed to be the dinning room, but this was his buffet table. Basically where he took his drinks." I said, taking him into that room. This room had less blood in the room, but enough for Natsu to hate it.

"This is the living room, where most of the abuse happened. You can tell because of the amount of blood. He would tell me to stand at that wall. Well, I'd either stand or be duct taped to the wall, legs spread apart and arms stretched out. No, I was never raped, yet I would see my father consider hiring a rapist." I say. I saw him clench his fists as he continued to follow.

"This is his lair. He never did anything to me in here." I said, showing him the one room with absolutely no blood in it.

"Do you want to see upstairs?" I asked, leading him to the stairs.

"Of course I do. I want to make sure you're not hiding anything." He said. I nodded and took him upstairs.

"These three rooms are guest bedrooms. Not really important." I said.

"This... This is the door that leads to the roof. Remember how I said that I consider killing myself? Well, I've tried to before. On my own roof." I said. He starts to say something, but closes his mouth as he sees one door I haven't mentioned.

"What about that door?" He says, pointing to it. I walk over to it and grab the handle.

"I'm warning you, this room has the most blood you'll ever see. More then the living room." I said. I looked at his face and he seemed angered, but contained it. I close my eyes and open the door.

"This is my room." I say. The moment I say that, he starts looking around. He sees broken glad pieces on the ground and on my bed. He sees graffiti written in my blood all over the walls. He sees my nearly empty bookshelf that's drowned in blood. He goes into my closet that has hardly any clothes. Then he reaches my bathroom door, but finds it locked.

"Lucy, open it." He says. I walk over and take out my hair pin. I pick the lock open and open the door for him. He goes inside and I got this feeling that his stare would be the death of me. 

I walk in next to him and I see what he's looking at. Surprisingly, it wasn't my razors that were on the counter. He was looking at cracked picture frame that had an old and faded picture inside. He carefully took the picture put and looked at it.

"Why would you frame this if you refuse to care?" He said. I looked at my own picture and it read:

Care for those who care, for if they care, they'll show it without holding back.

"My mother used to say that. So I wrote it down and framed it." I said.

"Why don't you listen to your mothers words then. Don't you love her?"

"Of course I do! She was my loving mother!" I said, a little louder than intended.

"Then would you please listen to her words?" He asked, placing the picture back.

"I've tried, and what does it do to me? It kills people." I said.

"Ugh! Shut up about you and being a murderer! It's not your fault and I'm getting tired of hearing you criticize yourself!" He said. 

I nodded and hugged him. I guess... If he cares, then I care.