• LORENZO •

Amalia comes out after an hour and a half. My eyes soften when I see her, however when she stumbles over nothing they narrow.

     Grayson smiles. "There's the little menace."

     She scowls.

     "Come on." I say. I set a hand on her shoulder. I can talk to her when she's sober, tomorrow. I lead her out to the car, and she sits in the back with Cole and Grayson. Elijah gets in the passengers seat, and within a few moments we're on our way home.

     "You know," Cole says, nudging her. "You shouldn't drink."

     "Says the one who stinks of vodka." She replies.

     He glares at her. She glares back. I sigh and return all my attention to the road, realising I get to deal with three of my drunk children now.

•

"I can walk." I hear Amalia say when Elijah helps her out of the car. He frowns before releasing the gentle grip he had on her arm. She manages to walk into the house, then to the living room.

     "Amalia." I call. She stops and looks at me. "Why don't you go up to bed?"

     "I'm not tired." She says, sitting down on the couch. She uses her feet to get her shoes off, then turns on the TV.

     I sigh quietly. "You can sleep it off, baby."

     "I'll sleep it off when I'm tired." She snaps.

     My eyebrows draw together. "Amalia." I whisper. "Baby, let's just get you into bed, yeah?"

     "Yeah, baby. Time for bed." Grayson says, stumbling over his words as he pats her head. He drops into the place beside her.

     "You too, Grayson." Cole has already went up, I think.

     That thought is immediately contradicted when Cole walks in. He has two glasses of water, and he passes one to Amalia before sitting on her other side.

     "Where's mine?" Grayson questions.

     "Why would I get you one?" He asks. "I don't like you."

     Grayson leans behind Amalia and slaps his twin brothers cheek. Cole slaps him back, and I sigh loudly before walking over. Within a few moments they're fighting with an annoyed Amalia between them.

     "Stop!" She exclaims, pushing them both away from her.

"No. Shut up." Cole replies, leaning over her again to slap Grayson once again. He slaps him back, and they start a pattern until I grab both their hands.

"Both of you go up to bed." I say.

"That's not fair." Grayson whines.

"That's all your fault." Cole tells him, scowling.

"No it wasn't."

"It. Fucking. Was."

     I sigh again.

•

Amalia doesn't move from the couch. Her brothers move around her, sitting by her sides to drunkenly tease her. They give up after a few times, annoyed by her quick responses.

     But when they leave the room, deciding to go sit in the back garden—with Elijah going to babysit—I walk over to her and sit beside her, following her trained gaze to the TV.

     "You're not tired?" I ask her softly.

     She shakes her head. Slowly, she looks at me like she's ashamed.

     "What's wrong?" I question.

     "Sorry I snapped at you before." She whispers, her voice so quiet I hardly hear the words leave her tongue.

     My gaze softens. "It's okay, baby." I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and tucking her into my side. I plant a kiss on her temple and look down at her. "What happened tonight?"

     She sighs, the sound shaky. "I didn't know there was gonna be a party. I swear."

     "I know. I believe you." I say.

     She sighs again, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand. I'm about to suggest that she goes up to bed again, and that we can talk about this in the morning but she begins talking. "We were all watching a movie, and I fell asleep. When I woke up I heard arguing so Archer and I went downstairs and Gracie was there, with all her friends."

     I frown. "I thought Gracie was friends with you all."

     She shakes her head and continues, "she's been really mean lately. Anyway," her words are slightly slurred and weighed down with exhaustion. "She just walked in to Mia's house, and then all her goons followed her. We tried to get her to leave but she wouldn't. Someone must've called the police because of a noise complaint or something. Then I was wrongfully pushed against a wall and handcuffed."

My eyebrows knit together. "He pushed you against a wall?"

She nods. "Perv. Might as well have been grinding on me or something." She mutters.

My eyes narrow a little. I nod. "Okay. Thanks for telling me, sweetheart."

She offers me an unsure, closed lipped smile. She wraps her arms around herself and leans back on my arm.

     "Archer is leaving. I don't think I told you." She mutters.

     "He told me." I reply.

     Her lips tilt downwards. "Oh." She inhales another shaky breath, then blows it out. "I'm gonna miss him."

     "I know." I say quietly. Because I do—I know that horrifying feeling of having to let someone go when that's the last thing you want to do. I know how it feels to ache with a longing for someone you can no longer have. When Amalia came back to us, the phone call to tell me that I could come pick up my daughter was accompanied by the news that my wife was dead. I remember it like it was yesterday.

     "Hello?" I said into the phone.

     "Is this Lorenzo Romano?"

     "Yes."

     "We're calling to tell you that your daughter, Amalia, is here with us. Her step dad died earlier today, so you're the only person available to take custody of her."

     A wild euphoria burst through me then, but there was an underlying sense that something was wrong. I furrowed my eyebrows. "What about her mother? Heidi?"

     "Her mother died two years ago. If you'd prefer, we can put Amalia into foster care."

     I had been standing, but then I collapsed back into my seat and held onto my heart, clawing at it to give the cracked pieces it had shattered into room to pour out of my chest. I was going to see my daughter, however I'd never see my wife again.

     She was gone. The love of my life was gone. She'd never come back to me.

     I had always held out hope that one day Heidi would appear at the front door, our baby girl at her side. We could be a family again. But knowing that I'd never get to hear her laugh or look into her eyes again? It made my entire being crumble.

     "Lorenzo?"

     "I'll come get her." I managed to choke out. I'd be getting Amalia—which I was overjoyed about—but I'd never see both my girls together again.

     The details of where they were were sent to me, and I ended the call. A breath sputtered out of me, but I didn't have time to cry; I had to get my little girl.

     Amalia sniffles. I snap my head to look at her. She wipes her nose and shuffles closer to me.

     "It'll be okay, sweetheart." I whisper, running my fingers through her brown hair. "Sometimes you might think it won't be, but there's always a better path waiting for you. One that'll be kind to you."

     She sighs. "Maybe you're the drunk one dad, because that doesn't really make sense."

     I laugh.

• ARCHER •

When I get home, all the lights are off and more things are packed. I push my shoes off at the door and walk down the hall, then up the staircase. When I get to my room, I pause at the doorway. Alexandra is sleeping in my bed.

     I change into my pyjamas, keeping the lights off so I don't wake her up. When I'm changed, I climb into the spot next to her. Her wide eyes peel open.

     "Go back to sleep." I whisper.

     She frowns. "What's wrong, Archie?"

     "Nothings wrong." I assure her.

     "Nuh-uh." She says, sitting up. She tilts her head and sets a hand on my shoulder, using it as support as she leans closer to me, getting in my face. "Whats the matter? Now I'm worried about you."

     My lips tick up at the corners. "You don't have to be worried about me, Ally. Ever."

     She frowns. "You're always worried about me."

     "I'm your older brother, it's my job. And I have to be, because you're such a little troublemaker." I say.

     She gasps. "Am not!"

     "Shhh," I press a finger to my lips. "We need to go to sleep."

     "I'm not tired anymore."

     "That sucks, cause' I am." I reply, wrapping my arms around her and holding her to me like she's a baby. She squeals and giggles, but when I don't let go she leans her little head on my shoulder.

     "Archie?"

     "Hm?"

     "It's going to be okay."

     My smile fades. A few moments pass before I respond. "I know."

     She nods. "Good. My teacher says that whenever you're sad you need to think about what makes you happy. What makes you happy?"

     "I'm not sad." I say.

     "Liar. What makes you happy? Is it Amalia?"

     I pause. She must take this as my answer, because she nods again. "Thought so. Are you sad we're leaving her?"

     Slowly, I nod.

     "We'll see her again." She says, scooting out of my hold and putting her head by my knees. She kicks me in the face with her foot. "Right?"

     I push her foot away. "When'd you get so wise? You're six."

     "I'm just a slay."

     I laugh. "What?"

     "Amalia taught me that word." She says, and even in the dark I can see the giddy grin lighting up her face. "It's when you're magnificent. You'd be more of a slay if you didn't trap me under the covers when you fart."

     I laugh again. "I don't do that anymore."

     "You still did." She says sadly.

     My heart softens. I pull her up to me and kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry."

     "I'll accept your apology as soon as you buy me cookies." She replies.

     I roll my eyes.

• ??? •

I don't know how long I've been here, following the same routine every day: wake up, medication, breakfast, day room, more medication, outside time, dinner, more medication to make me sleepy, bedtime.

     No one believes that I have a life outside of these plain white walls, because they don't either. They think I'm making it up, that it's some story.

     Yes, I imagine people who aren't there. But I'm not imagining them. I couldn't come up with people so perfect. So, incredibly charismatic and loveable and amazing.

     He's in the mirror when I go to brush my teeth for bed, that marvellous smile on his ruggedly handsome face. Relief washes over me as I turn around.

     "You look beautiful, darling." He says, his voice gentle.

     A blush heats my cheeks. I look down at my clothes and laugh. "Trying to kiss up?"

     He closes the distance between us, that look remaining on his face, softening his features. When he strokes my cheek with his palm, it almost feels real.

     I close my eyes, hoping, hoping, hoping, but when I reopen them he's gone.

     He's gone and I'm alone.

     My fists clench at my sides. I rush out of the bathroom, grabbing onto the nearest nurse. "What did you do with them?" I shout. I push her against the wall, my arm coming up to her neck. Her eyes widen in alarm before she goes to fumble with something at her side. I look down, seeing a needle. She manages to grab it, however I swiftly knock it out of her hand. "Answer me!" I shout.

     A heavy hand comes to grab my shoulder, pulling me away. Then a sharp pain enters the side of my neck, and I look up at the ceiling, at the light, before I collapse onto the floor.

     Completely,
     Utterly
     Helpless.