ACT ONE ━━ CHAPTER SEVEN
Saint with the Lips of a Sinner

ECCLESIASTES 3:1-8. "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die...a time to kill and a time to heal...a time to love and a time to hate...a time for war and a time for peace."

That's what the pastor read at the funeral. The guests all nodded their heads along to the Bible scripture in agreement for it wasn't their family member being buried in the ground. The women dabbed at their eyes in fake-sorrow for the dead they had never even known. The guests only knew what they wanted them to know, not the ghosts that lived in the Berkeleys' closets.

Adaline couldn't stop seeing all the blood. It was everywhere. All over the bedding, rolling down exposed skin, dripping onto the carpet, compiling into an ever-growing circle around the culprit.

She called 9-1-1. They were too late. She tried to stop the bleeding. It was already infected. How long had they been like that? Why hadn't Adaline come home from school earlier? Why didn't she know? She should've known. The empty space was directly in front of her yet she was too stupid enough to put the last piece in the puzzle. She should've known. Anyone with common sense would've known.

The doctors ruled it as acquired hemophilia that caused Betty to bleed out so quickly. The wire hanger was covered in bacteria that infected her bloodstream almost immediately. Even if they had gotten her to the hospital, it was likely she would have bled out on the operating table instead of in her bedroom.

When they arrived, they had to pry the poor girl away from cradling her mother's head. Bath towels were everywhere but were of no use. Adaline was covered in blood. The men tried to help her up but she couldn't stop seeing red. It was everywhere. The room was tinted red. Red forms were pinning her legs down on the ground. For a moment, she was convinced she had died in her sleep and this was her Hell.

A hand gently rested on Adaline's shoulder, her Aunt Sally nonverbally telling Adaline it was time to bury her mother. Adaline couldn't look at her aunt anymore. It was the 60s, they had phones. Adaline could've called her aunt earlier, spoken to her mother earlier, figured out the obvious dilemma earlier, prevented what happened earlier.

Prevented what happened at all.

Adaline moved forward to grab the handheld shovel her father set on the pile of dirt, unable to look at his own daughter. Desmond didn't blame her. He blamed himself, actually, but Adaline didn't deserve this. He understood that Betty could do this to him, but to Adaline? Their daughter? He couldn't accept it. Looking at Adaline's tear-stained face was only another reminder.

Adaline scooped the dirt and looked down at the coffin six feet under. She slowly tilted the shovel so dirt trickled down, reminiscent of the blood she watched roll down the inside of her mother's legs while she died.

She should've known.

How didn't she know?

She could never become a doctor.

Her father was right.

She should've known.

The dirt ran out and Adaline slowly handed the shovel to her aunt before shuffling back to her original spot beside her father. She glanced over at the other funeral happening on the same day, watching the back of one person in particular.

The adjacent funeral only had three guests, who weren't even guests. They were family members of the beloved. In that moment, Adaline truly understood the feeling of quality over quantity. Sure, this is what Betty would've wanted. Her "friends" all crying over their good friend as they covered her coffin in dirt, sharing stories of times Betty had successfully fooled them into thinking that she was the saint they all made her out to be, a person without fault who didn't deserve this fate.

Lenora, on the other hand, would've just wanted her family. She would be with her mom—and dad—now. He'd be coming back over the hill in Purgatory to greet her, sending her on her way to Heaven where she belonged.

The pastor was in the middle of his closing remarks when Adaline suddenly took her hand out of her crying aunt's and walked over to the Russells. Everyone watched as she walked towards the boy in particular, who turned her way once he heard the sound of footsteps. He raised his tilted head, parting his lips to share his condolences once again but Adaline wrapped her arms around him before he had the chance.

His body froze as he looked behind her at the guests of her mother's funeral, all staring in shock, some covering their mouths. Her father looked like he was about to throw Arvin into the ground with his sister, while her aunt merely watched, empathetic.

Arvin wrapped his arms back around Adaline and gently rested his head against hers, glancing up to see her father's reaction.

Desmond was growing livid. He understood Adaline was grieving, they all were, but to disrespect her mother to such a severe extent on the day of her burial was unacceptable. He would've yelled out her name, or even gone over there himself to drag her back to her mother's side if he didn't want to cause any more commotion.

He heard the mumblings around him. Most thought it was just Adaline being friendly like her mother was, being such saints to those in need. Desmond would keep it that way in front of others, but he knew what this meant. She wasn't seeing Elijah Taylor like she said she was, she was spending all of her time with the no-good Orphan boy.

Arvin kept eye contact with the man, just like he did while Desmond almost beat him bloody. When the news spread around the town (within the same day, as news always did in Coal Creek), Arvin immediately went to Adaline's house. He didn't go inside, but over the few weeks since they went to Knockemstiff, he would go to Adaline's window since he'd be shot dead on sight if he attempted to go in through the front door.

Adaline's tears were soaking through Arvin's cream button-down since she's been holding herself back all morning in front of the funeral goers because of her mother's voice in her ear, telling her to keep up appearances.

The pastor at Betty's funeral continued the sermon and Desmond was the last person to look away from Adaline, an indescribable rage replacing the regret he previously felt for her. Even after she let go of Arvin, she stayed by his side with his family instead of returning to her mother's grave. Adaline'd rather have been around less authentic people than the abundance of phonies still dabbing at the corners of their eyes to clean up the nonexistent running makeup.

After Betty's funeral ended, the crowd dispersed beside Desmond who waited for Adaline to come back and say goodbye to her mother one last time, but she never did. She stayed with them Orphans until the sun hit mid-day, and Desmond was fuming. He left without saying a word, Adaline only realizing he left when she glanced over a little while later to see only a freshly-buried grave.

Emma hugged Adaline before asking if she wanted to come back to the house for an early supper of Lenora's favorite meal before heading home, and she accepted. She wanted to allow her father time to cool off anyway.

Emma and Earskell walked with Arvin and Adaline trailing behind them, her arm looped through his. Both had been the ones to find their loved ones dead, both repeatedly asked themselves what happened, what went wrong, what could they have done? Nothing. But their consciences screamed at them that they should've done something. That they should've known.

Adaline rested her head on Arvin's shoulder during the drive to his house, and he felt his body become on fire again, just like every other time she touched him. He felt cold at any other moment, merely a shell of a person, but Adaline filled his hollow body with a soul and sent a rush of warmth through his veins.

Adaline stayed with the Russells even after the meal had ended and Emma and Earskell went their respective ways in private, leaving Adaline and Arvin to themselves. Neither hardly spoke, mostly because they didn't know what to say that hasn't already been said, but neither of them minded. They would've rather had it this way, sitting in a comfortable silence while leaning on each other for support in this unforeseen situation.

When the sky turned dark, Adaline figured she should get home. She would've rather stayed sitting on the couch and eventually falling asleep on Arvin's shoulder like she had a few hours before, but she needed to make sure her father was okay. She should've been home earlier, actually, because she saw what happened when she let her mother unintended for so long.

Arvin told Adaline that he would walk her home and so they remained side-by-side all the way back to her house. A sole light was on that Adaline recognized from over the kitchen table, meaning her father was either still awake or had passed out there since he would never keep a light on for an unnecessary amount of time in fear of paying more than he had to for the bills.

Adaline faced Arvin, "I'll see you tomorrow? Or...soon, I guess." She sighed, "I'll probably be washin' clothes all day, so..."

He shrugged and pocketed his hands, "I could always come by to help you out. I don't mind."

She smiled at him as she shook her head, "That's sweet...but no, you work early in the mornin's, and I want you to get some rest. I know it's been hard these past couple of days." Adaline leaned in and kissed his cheek, "Thank you, though." She dropped her hand that was holding onto Arvin's arm and began to walk away, "Goodnight, Arvin."

He nodded towards her house, "I'll wait 'til you get inside alright."

Adaline laughed as she always did, "I'll be fine, thank you."

Arvin shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, trying to crack a joke, "You weren't seein' how your daddy was eyein' me. Looked like he was 'bout to beat me on the spot."

She huffed, "Fine, I'll turn my lamp on or somethin' to let you know that I'm inside and safe. Alright?"

He nodded, "Alright." Adaline smiled at him one last time before walking across the street and up the stairs of her porch, opening the front door to enter her house.

She was frightened at the sight she was met with: her father sitting at the kitchen table while surrounded by emptied bottles of liquor, a half-empty glass still in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot and he almost looked rabid as he eyed his daughter, lips curling into a snarl.

Adaline shut the door behind her, "Daddy?" She counted the bottles in her head, "...are you alright?"

Desmond loudly scoffed, "Tell me, sweetheart, do I look alright to you?" She didn't answer. He nodded at her, "You look mighty fine yourself, though. Livin' it up the day of your mother's burial." Adaline furrowed her eyebrows at her father's drunken words.

He grinned manicly, "Ahh, I've gotcha, Addy. Did you think I'm stupid?" Adaline stayed frozen in her spot, confused at where he was going with this. Desmond nodded out the window, "I saw you and your little Orphan boyfriend, the Russell boy I work with." He shrugged, "Hell of a worker, much better than me."

Desmond motioned to the bottles littering the table, "But is that so hard? Look at me, Adaline." He slammed his glass against the wooden table, letting off a loud bang and shatter of glass, "Look at me!" Adaline flinched at his yell echoing off the walls, then concerned at the pieces of glass embedded in Desmond's hand.

She took a hesitant step forward despite the blood flowing out reminded her of her mother, "Daddy, your hand—"

"I'm the only one who gives two shits about your dead mother. You sure ain't upset, you went off in the middle of it to go fuck that fuckin' fuckup God knows where—"

"Don't call him that—"

"I'm gonna call him whatever the fuck I wanna call him! I'm only speaking the truth, ain't I?" Adaline bit her lip as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Listen to me, Addy, he's gonna end up just like his daddy. A psycho—a lunatic who ends up puttin' a bullet through his own head—!"

"Stop sayin' that!" Adaline pleaded, glancing down at her father's hand to see it balled into a fist, undoubtedly further burying glass shards into his flesh. The alcohol definitely dulled his senses enough that it wasn't his main concern.

Desmond smirked amusedly, "Oh, so now you know better than me, do ya?" He dryly laughed, "Alright, Adaline...alright..." He stood up, knocking the chair backwards and stumbling over the chair leg. Adaline stayed paralyzed as her father walked towards her and slapped her straight across the face, making her gasp at the sting and reach up to feel several tiny pieces of glass had embedded themselves in her skin. Adaline felt an eery sense of déjà vu as she held her hand to her cheek and the scent of whiskey overwhelmed her olfaction. She suddenly felt a throbbing pain on the side of her abdomen. While off guard, Desmond grabbed her arm again with his bleeding hand, "C'mon, let's see how smart you are."

Adaline screamed at the sting of glass from her father's hand piercing her skin instead, trying to pry his fingers off of her as he dragged her into the bathroom, "Let go! Daddy, the glass—get off!" Desmond pinned her against the vanity so the counter was digging so far into her hands that she couldn't wedge them out. He used his free hand to turn on the faucet and grab the bar of soap, wetting it so it began to get foamy.

He held it up to Adaline's face, "C'mon, open wide. That smart mouth of yours needs cleanin'."

She turned her head as far away from her father as she could, openly crying now, "Please—please don't. Daddy, please—!" Desmond switched his grasp onto Adaline's hair to control where it faced, glass shards entering her scalp now.

He scrubbed her tight-lipped mouth with the dripping bar of soap, "C'mon, bitch, open your mouth—you need to clean off them diseases that Orphan boy's been givin' ya" Adaline could no longer move her head away from her father's grip on her hair but kept her eyes and mouth shut, her that did nothing. Soap still seeped inside the small gaps between her lips and filled her mouth with the bitter taste.

Desmond forcibly opened her mouth and attempted to aggressively scrub her tongue, the soap flowing off the bar and down Adaline's throat, choking her. She tried to free either of her arms but they were stuck between the door pulls, digging into her wrists so deep she was beginning to lose circulation.

Outside, Arvin was getting impatient. The lamp in Adaline's room hadn't turned on and it was nearing ten minutes since she went inside. He clenched his jaw before he looked up and down the street. The neighbors' porch lights were unlit so he wouldn't have to worry about someone calling in a breaking and entering. Arvin saw Desmond's face earlier, he wasn't just staring daggers at himself, he was giving Adaline the same glare which didn't comfort Arvin in the slightest.

Arvin huffed and walked across the street, first trying to listen inside the house but only heard running water. He opened the already-unlocked door and went to where he heard muffled screaming and Desmond's deep, booming voice filling up the house like an amphitheater.

Adaline almost got one hand free when suddenly her father was no longer beside her and instead on the floor. She instantly coughed up all the soap foam into the sink before sticking her head underneath the running faucet to try and get rid of the bitter taste of soap that'd probably linger in her mouth for days. Adaline spat into the sink as she gripped either side of it, catching her breath while looking down to see her father getting beaten bloody on the wooden floorboards.

The momentary adrenaline faded as Adaline watched Arvin hover over Desmond, holding his head up by his shirt collar and repeatedly punching the man. Adaline sunk to the floor, her face, scalp, and arm all burning like Hell as the glass was forcing themselves deeper into her skin. She ignored them as she hugged her knees to her chest, beginning to sob.

Arvin's own knuckles had split open and his own blood was combining with the same fluid produced from Desmond's face with every hit. The man had already fallen unconscious but Arvin couldn't stop seeing him give Adaline that glare at the cemetery while she was grieving her mother, and then he couldn't stop hearing her muffled pleads of mercy.

He didn't give her mercy, so why should he deserve it?

Arvin threw one last punch, Desmond's face slapping against the wooden floor that was probably dented from the force of his head by now. Arvin glanced down at his hands to see them covered in blood. He looked down at his clothes to see matching red splatters. He straightened up and backed away, catching his breath as he looked towards Adaline.

She was leaning against the vanity, crying, and for a moment Arvin thought she was crying at him. He looked down at the floor to see Desmond's bloodied body. He went too far. He went too—

Adaline stood up to carefully hug Arvin like she had earlier, making sure to not get any of the pieces of glass in her skin near him. Arvin hugged her back.

She pulled away and spoke in-between sobs, shaking her head, "He's never—he ain't never done that before. He's not—that's not how he is—you gotta believe me—"

Arvin nodded, "Yeah..." Desmond beating him up. Death glare. Pleads of mercy. He nodded again, putting his uninjured arm around her, "I got you. You're alright now." Arvin let her out of the bathroom, stepping over her father's unconscious body lying on the floor. Adaline let out a cry but diverted her eyes elsewhere so she didn't have to see Desmond, cradling her injured arm with her healthy one to try and stop the pain from every movement.

It was a painfully long walk to Arvin's house but he helped Adaline inside, careful of the creaky door and floorboards as to not wake up either Emma or Earskell. He began to direct her towards the bathroom, but keeping recent events in mind, he detoured into his bedroom instead.

Arvin helped her sit on the edge of his bed since she was still in shock, "Wait here, and lemme go try to find something to clean them up." Adaline didn't respond as she looked back down at her arm, her breath hitching at the trail of blood connecting the shards of glass in a vertical line down the side of her tricep. She tried to gently pull a piece out but it only stung worse, she looking up at the ceiling to try and blink away tears while she pressed her lips hard together.

Arvin returned to his room with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and tweezers in one hand with towels in the other. He gently shut his door behind him, exhaling when he heard the soft thud.

"Alright, uh, here, take these," he threw the towels on the floor before handing Adaline over two Bufferin he had in his hand. She dry-swallowed both of them as Arvin twisted the cap off of the bottle and poured the alcohol over the tweezers in an attempt of sterilizing them. He sat down beside Adaline on the side of her injured arm, swallowing the lump in his throat at all of the shards. He glanced back up at her face and saw even tinier pieces in her cheek and figured there'd probably be some in her scalp too, since Desmond was holding her hair with his injured hand.

Arvin gulped again, "This is probably gonna hurt. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, "It's fine...just do it." Adaline shut her eyes in bracing for the pain, whimpering when Arvin only gently tugged like she had done to herself before. He instantly stopped at her wincing face. Arvin sighed sympathetically, "I gotta do it, I'm sorry."

She waved him off, "Don't worry 'bout what I do, just get 'em out. Please." Arvin put his free hand underneath her arm to try and steady her shaking, using his dominant hand to begin pulling out the shards of glass. They weren't giving way much, wanting to remain inside Adaline's skin. Arvin tried to ignore her winces as he used more strength to extract the glass, but it was difficult to do so.

Adaline grabbed onto the hem of Arvin's shirt that was right beside her hand, squeezing it until her knuckles went white as he kept pulling out the glass. "Almost there," he reassured her. She inhaled and exhaled deeply until he eventually got out the first piece. "Alright, alright, I got it." He laid the glass shard on a towel and grabbed the alcohol again with the washcloth.

He looked at Adaline empathetically, "This is gonna sting too, I'm sorry."

Still with her eyes closed, she shook her head, "It's fine, just go." Adaline tightened her grip on the hem of Arvin's shirt as he poured a drop of alcohol in the wound, making her gasp out in pain as he pressed the washcloth down on it.

Adaline clenched her teeth together and Arvin kept apologizing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He removed the washcloth and saw that the wound already looked a little healthier, "Okay, alright, that one's over with."

She sarcastically laughed and looked over at Arvin, "Yeah...one out of fifty."

"If it hurts that bad, we ain't got to—"

"No," Adaline interrupted. "Just—just get 'em all out. I'll deal with it." This entire process repeated until Arvin cleaned out her arm as best as he could.

"Okay," Arvin poured alcohol over the tweezers again, "d'you want me to do your head or face first?"

Adaline sighed, "Head, I reckon." She shuffled so she was facing Arvin and tilted her head down, "I don't know where they are, probably in the back somewhere." Arvin had to sit straighter to be above her, gently combing through her hair to try and find the small shards.

"I found 'em," he told her. She grabbed onto his shirt again as he resumed the process of removing the pieces and cleaning them with more alcohol with Adaline's forehead resting against his abdomen, tears soaking his shirt for the second time that day.

There weren't as many shards of glass in her scalp since they mostly just got caught in her hair that Arvin was able to get out. He gently moved her face up so he could get to the ones in her cheek.

He half-heartedly smiled, "Last few." Adaline softly nodded, exhausted. Arvin rested his free hand on the side of her face to minimize movement and needed to move closer so he could get a better look. His bent knee was touching her crossed ones while she watched him at work. Arvin frowned in concentration as he squinted slightly, these pieces of glass much smaller than the other ones.

"These ones might hurt more," he told her. "They look further in."

Adaline blinked instead of nodding, "Okay." She reached up to grab onto the crook of his elbow that was right above her hand, instantly sending a chill down Arvin's spine. She exhaled a laugh when she felt the goosebumps rise underneath her finger tips.

Arvin lightly scoffed as he removed his hands from her face for a second, "You can't go on and be doin' that now. I might nick your cheek where they ain't glass or somethin'."

Adaline amusedly huffed, "Well, that's quite poor timin', ain't it?"

Arvin sighed, glancing down to not let her see him slightly smiling himself, clearing his throat, "Adaline, I'm serious."

She caught him anyway, "So am I."

He looked back up at her, "I think them Bufferin finally kicked in, didn't they?"

Adaline sighed, "No. I'm still feelin' everything. Just tryna make you loosen up." Arvin's eyebrows flinched downwards. "I can feel it in your hand." Adaline reached for Arvin's hand with the tweezers in it, putting them to the side and turning his hand over so his knuckles were on display.

They were split and covered in dried blood, already bruising. Adaline glanced up at Arvin, "It hurt?"

He shrugged, "Been worse." Adaline grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and a towel from the ground. "What're ya doin'?"

"That needs to be cleaned." She lazily smiled up at him, "This is gonna hurt. I'm sorry."

Arvin dryly laughed, "Wait a minute—"

She reassured him, "Don't worry, it'll make us even."

"Adaline, there's still glass in your face."

She shrugged, "Can't have a surgeon with a crampin' hand, now can I?" She leaned forward, "It'll only sting a bit. Then it goes away. I promise."

"Adaline—" she quickly poured the alcohol over his knuckle wounds and clamped the hand towel over it, covering his mouth with her hand to muffle his yell.

"Arvin, you gotta stop yellin', they'll hear you!" Adaline kept glancing at the closed bedroom door, praying that Emma wouldn't walk in. When he finally quieter down, Adaline gave him an incredulous look, "Arvin, the hell was that?"

He nodded at his hand with wide eyes, "That stings like a bitch, what d'you expect me to do?"

"If I didn't scream like that, that gives you no excuse to either." Adaline fought the smile she was holding back, teasing Arvin. She lifted the towel to analyze his hand, and in his defense, the wounds were pretty deep and the alcohol definitely went over more surface area at once than Adaline's cuts did.

He grabbed the tweezers again, "Now you gonna let me get the glass outta your face or are you gonna make me take a nap first?"

She smiled, "Ha ha." Arvin set one hand on the side of her face like before, beginning to tug out the first piece. Of course it was the smallest possible thing, lodged inset with her skin. Adaline shut her eyes once she felt the familiar stinging again, blindly reaching out for Arvin's hem, but his bent knee was the closest thing instead. She grabbed onto his kneecap as he tried to make this process as quick and painless as possible, but as seen with the first several, that was almost impossible.

Arvin kept repeating under his breath, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." as he pulled the glass farther and farther out with the tweezers. "Alright, I got it." He put the piece with the others on the towel on the floor before continuing on with the rest.

At where Desmond's hand made direct contact, the piece of glass was lodged in the deepest. Arvin exhaled heavily, dammit, but tried to brush Adaline's hair back comfortingly.

He had only squeezed the tweezers around the piece and Adaline winced, her breath becoming short and quick. Arvin continued, internally cursing about its stubbornness. Adaline had gotten used to the pain so she hadn't cried since the beginning, but now a tear rolled down her cheek and onto the thumb of Arvin's free hand that held her head steady.

He wiped it away, "It's alright, it's alright..." He didn't say it aloud, but both of them knew he would just have to keep pulling out the glass until it broke free in order to get it out. Arvin exhaled before trying again, blood beginning to trickle out of the wound and down Adaline's cheek as the shard began to come out. Although it looked like only a small piece, it seemed to be never-ending.

"Okay," Arvin said once the glass completely came out, "I got it. It's all done." He grabbed another towel and held it over the wound. He tried to nod at Adaline reassuringly, "It's all done. You're alright." It stung for her, practically feeling the blood vessels inside her cheek all bursting open like a dam and soaking through the lousy cloth Arvin was using to try and control the bleeding.

Adaline felt something hit her hand and glanced down to see a drop of blood leaving a trail down her hand as it painted her knuckles before dripping down onto the bedding. All she could see was her mother bleeding out on the duvet. Blood dripped down Adaline's head. Blood dripped down Betty's legs. Blood stained the blanket. Blood stained the carpet.

"Adaline." Her eyes flitted back up at Arvin who was looking at her, concerned. When she blinked, a tear escaped from her eye and ran down her injured cheek to mix with the remaining blood, turning the droplet's slow roll into a quick sprint.

Drop.

Hand. Legs.

Drop.

Sheets. Bed.

Arvin went to grab one of the towels on the floor while Adaline began crying more, eyes caught on the wall behind him.

Drop.

Hand. Glass.

Drop.

Sheets. Floor.

Arvin wiped the side of Adaline's face with the towel since her tears were washing away the bloodstain until her breath hitched and he thought he might've pressed too hard on her cheek.

She shook her head, "He ain't usually never like that. He ain't done that—" She pressed her lips together before continuing, "...when I was young, I remember him yellin' a lot...but only at night. And I don't remember much from when I was seven, but when he hit me...it all came comin' back. The glass...and the blood..." Adaline exhaled before moving her body away from Arvin to lift up the hem of her shirt, revealing a pink line of scarred skin cupping the side of her abdomen.

The longer she looked at it, the more she could remember the night playing out in her head. "He slammed the glass down on the table just like he did today...shards went everywhere...I think he might've—might've grabbed one—I dunno—" She felt the scar opening up wide enough for her body to fit before swallowing her whole.

Adaline looked up at Arvin, "I can't remember what happened next, I must've—" She shook her head, "I dunno, but seein' my mother's blood, and my blood, all over me, all I could think about was when I was seven, and went into the bathroom, and tried to stop myself from bleeding with a shard of glass in my side...and I think it was 'cause of hin then too." Her lips trembled, "Everything happened the exact same way except my momma wasn't there—I think—" Her eyebrows twitched as she struggled to remember, "I think she mighta put herself in front of me or pushed me out of the way—"

Adaline swallowed roughly, looking down at her red-tinted hands that the towel couldn't remove the stain from. The memory was beginning to consume her as she tried to put together the missing pieces. Arvin noticed her beginning to zone out, blood still trickling down her skin. He left the room to start a bath in the bathroom next to his room and came back to his room to get Adaline, who hadn't budged an inch.

He leaned down in front of her, "Adaline?" She blinked, but not in response. Arvin knew the shock of that night's events and her newly-uncovered memories were affecting Adaline, so he took matters into his own hands. Arvin helped her up as her body took one step after another for her into the bathroom, letting Arvin sit her down on the toilet lid as he closed the door to the bathroom behind them.

He looked down at her and realized he couldn't just sit her in the full bathtub with her clothes on and clean the blood caking her skin, but stripping her naked while she was in a dissociated state wasn't his number one desire either. Arvin contemplated waking up his grandmother, since she wouldn't mind helping out Adaline...but he knew his grandma and Emma Russell would ask all kinds of questions.

Questions that couldn't exactly be answered straightforwardly.

The water had filled up most of the tub that Arvin decided that he would just have to do it himself. To himself, defended his actions since he didn't have ill intentions. He wasn't Eli, he wasn't Desmond, he was Arvin. He knew that, were Adaline mentally present, she'd tell him that it was okay, that he was just helping.

Adaline wasn't in touch with her actual surroundings. Instead she felt like she was watching herself from an outsider's point of view. But she wasn't with Arvin, and she wasn't in his house. Adaline was back in Alexandria, inside her parents' bathroom. She was younger—

Seven.

A younger Betty closed the bathroom door and began to run a bath. She opened the medicine cabinet to grab tweezers and crouched down in front of young Adaline, who was also sitting on the lid of the toilet.

Betty's lips moved but Adaline's ears were clogged with white noise. She wanted to talk but she was paralyzed. All she could do was blink and breathe. Betty gently lifted up her daughter's shirt to expose the side of her abdomen where a small shard of glass was sticking out. Adaline didn't flinch as Betty began to pull out the shard, repeatedly apologizing and reassuring seven-year-old Adaline that it would be over soon.

Betty flinched every so often from an apparent noise outside of the room, but Adaline couldn't hear it. Her mother quickly pulled the shard out and kept speaking to Adaline but she still couldn't hear what she was saying. Betty turned off the bath faucet and faced Adaline again, saying something else.

Arvin spoke Adaline's name a few times with no response to any. He hesitantly began to unzip the back of the dress she's been wearing since her mother's funeral that morning, moving slowly in case she suddenly returned and would save Arvin from the embarrassment. He peeled the sleeves off her shoulders but tried to look anywhere but her exposed body.

Betty undressed young Adaline, throwing her small white T-shirt into the trash can since the large red stain would be impossible to remove. She picked up her daughter and set her in the bathtub, rinsing her body with water. Betty took a washcloth and wet it with soap and water before gently scrubbing Adaline's body. A developing bruise on Betty's face prevented her right eye from fully opening and was beginning to throb, but she ignored the pain as she kept bathing her daughter.

Betty was thinking of how she would be able to take Adaline and leave. She could live with her parents, or her sister Sally in Ohio. The drunk man in the next room over was no longer the man she married. She didn't recognize him anymore.

But, Betty fell for his apologies later that night as she always did and would continue to do. Desmond had just had a little too much to drink, and it's been stressful at work lately. Betty understood. She forgave, but she'd never forget.

As Arvin was trying to scrub the dried blood off of her arms and face while wary of her wounds, Adaline blinked back into reality. Her eyes moved around to assess her surroundings, but she didn't panic since her position seemed almost identical to hers in her memory.

Arvin filled the pail beside him with water and was about to try and rinse the dried blood in Adaline's hair, but when he looked at her face he noticed that she was back.

A rush of panic came over him before it was replaced with concern, "Ada—Adaline? Can you hear me?" She slowly nodded as her eyes welled up quickly. "What's wrong?"

"I remember," she trembled, "it was him. When I was little. It was my dad." A tear rolled down her cheek, "It's always been him."

sorry this was ass and very anticlimactic but i physically cannot write & am just trying to power through 😩✊ i didn't even edit this so,,,, maybe at some point i'll come & rewrite but rn i physically cannot. like my body wONT LET ME. anyway im trying to speed speed through these last few chapters so yay get excited