"Only when we accept fear will we have freedom."
-Shane Parrish

An ear-splitting cry awakens me from a dreamless sleep. I sit up quickly, ready to jump out of bed. When I hear the sound again, I throw the covers off of my body and sprint downstairs.

I stop in my tracks when I reach the kitchen. The sight in front of me sends a chill down my spine. I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my racing heart, but my efforts are in vain. Adrenaline pumps through my bloodstream as I drop to my knees and lift a crying Evangeline off the tile.

"I... I hit my head on the counter," she stutters, pointing to the two-inch long gash on her temple. That whole side of her face is covered in blood.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay, Vange," I promise her, my voice wavering. With trembling hands, I pick her up and cradle her in my arms.

I yell for my parents. Still in their pajamas, they rush downstairs. They both wear the same fearful expression when they see Evangeline's still-bleeding head wound.

"We need to take her to the ER," Dad says. "Calista, get a cloth for her forehead. Bowie, can you carry her to the car?"

"Already on it," I reply, unlocking the front door and making my way outside.

We drive to the hospital in tense silence. Evangeline is going in and out of consciousness, and I don't know if I should keep her up or let her sleep. Fuck, I'm not a doctor. I don't know anything about this stuff.

"I want... I want my...." Evangeline trails off, her emerald eyes opening, then closing again.

"What do you want, Vange?" I ask.

"My bear," she replies. "I want my bear."

"Her teddy bear," Mom clarifies. "She must have left it in her room."

"I can't turn around. She needs to see a doctor," Dad huffs.

"Don't worry, Geoffrey. I'll call Gemma. Maybe she can go to the house and grab it," my mom suggests, intertwining her fingers through his. They hold hands for the rest of the drive.

When we arrive at the hospital, my dad offers to carry Evangeline, but she recoils from him, instead clinging to me. I lift her out of the car and cart her into the crowded emergency room.

Immediately, a team of nurses is surrounding us. I place Vange on a stretcher bed, but she reaches out for me, grabbing a fistful of my t-shirt.

"Don't go, Bowie," she whimpers.

"I'm right here," I assure her. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

Against the doctor's orders, Evangeline touches her forehead, which is lined with stitches. I'm so proud of her. She took the pain like a champ.

"Stop picking at them!" my mom chides her.

Evangeline rolls her eyes. "I can't help it. They feel... weird."

"You bumped your head, kiddo. You're gonna feel weird for a while," I pipe in.

She pouts her lip. "I don't like hospitals. I want to go home."

"We can go home in a few hours," Mom promises.

"That's a long time," Evangeline whines. "I want my bear."

My mom and I exchange a look. In all the time Vange has lived with us, this is the first occasion that she's ever behaved like a true six-year-old.

"Gemma is on her way, honey," my mom tells her.  "You'll have your bear soon."

"Gemma's actually coming?" I ask, unable to mask my surprise.

"Yes, your sister is coming."

"It's two in the morning. I figured she'd be asleep."

"She was asleep. I think I woke her," Mom admits. "Anyway, she's up now, and she's dropping off the teddy bear."

"She's taking forever," Evangeline groans.

"Well, in the meantime, let's...." I stop, rubbing my tired eyes as I struggle to come up with something to keep Vange occupied. "Let's, uh, tell stories. You like stories, right? I've seen your journals."

Her green eyes light up. "I love stories!"

"Wanna hear a story about Gemma? When she was about your age, she injured herself pretty badly, too," I recall, grinning at the memory.

She nods her head and says, "Okay."

"Well," I begin, "when she was a kid, she used to love to climb trees. She was pretty good at it, too. I could never keep up with her."

"It's true," Mom adds. "You're good at many things, Bowie, but tree-scaling isn't one of them."

"Anyway," I go on, nudging my mom's arm playfully, "Gemma was going up the really tall tree in our backyard. You've seen it, right?"

"It's huge!" the six-year-old shouts.

"Yes, it is, and my dear sister fell out of it."

Evangeline's jaw drops. "No way."

"She would not stop crying," I say with a chuckle. "She sprained both of her ankles so badly that—"

"I couldn't walk for over a month," a voice cuts in. Speaking of Gemma.... "I had to use crutches, which bruised the skin under my arms. To this day, it still hurts to put on deodorant."

I watch as my sister hands the ratty teddy bear to Evangeline, who hugs it tightly against her chest. Already, she seems less agitated.

"Does it really?" Vange asks.

"No," Gemma replies, "although the sight of crutches does make my stomach churn."

"I've never had crutches," Vange says. "This"—she points to her head—"is the worst I've ever been hurt."

"You're lucky! This is gonna heal, and in a week or two, you won't even be able to tell where gash was," Gemma assures her, sitting at the end of her bed. She reaches out and takes her hand. "I'm really happy you're okay, Evangeline."

Evangeline beams at her. "Thanks, Gemma. Me, too."

I feel a smile tugging at my lips. It's about time the two of them established a bond. Better late than never, right?

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

"I'm glad Evangeline is okay," Winter says into the phone. It's seven o'clock in the morning. I'm about to go to bed, while Winter is walking to class. "Poor kid can't catch a break, huh?"

"Honestly, the doctor said it could have been a lot worse. She's lucky she only had to get stitches."

"Lucky is not a word I would use to describe that little girl."

I nod my head in agreement, even though Winter can't see me. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Hey, this is my stop," she informs me. "Thanks for calling, though. I miss you, Bowie."

"I miss you, too, Win."

"Come to campus soon. We'll crash a lame party or something."

I chuckle. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

"Great. Now get some sleep, okay? You had a long night."

We say goodbye and hang up. Per her orders, I get into bed and pull the covers up to my chin. I'm exhausted. I forgot how tiring sitting in the emergency room all night can be.

As I'm about to enter dreamland, my cell vibrates. I open my groggy eyes and pick it up off my nightstand.

A single text message from Zayna wakes me right up: I'm in trouble. I need your help.