Innocent ✔️

Ten

Dear mother,

I've been having those days when I'm wishing I never wished to walk out of Miss Brooklyn's house. I've been having those nightmares here where I see you getting killed over and over again in diffrent ways than the reality and I'm standing in the same guy's arms, my eyes glued to the inked cross and can't run to help you.

About that guy too. Jackson. I thought he was nice and he'd help me with whatever I was thinking about back there but he just-

"Miss Robertson!" Someone called from downstairs and made me drop my pen on the floor and made me lift my head up toward the door stopping me from reading what I wrote this morning for the fourth time today.

He was calling Miss Robertson. Miss Robertson isn't here, she went shopping for things needed in the house because like she said, she is more like a mother to Jackson not only a maid or a house keeper.

I walked out of my room after placing my diary down on the window seat and walked along the hallway to tell him just that.

"Miss Robertson, where the hell are you?"

He needs to learn how to stop cursing with every sentence he spits out of his always-angry mouth. I approached the up of the stairs, that place again, and said "Miss Robertson went out to buy somethings." And was about to walk back to my room again but I heard him groan.

I looked down at him to see his hand rubbing his forehead and his body wasn't really balanced with every step he took closer to where he wanted to go.

"Miss Robertson." He called out again.

What didn't he understand in she isn't here talk I just gave him? I don't know if it's obvious but no one was answering him and last time I checked I didn't sound like her at all.

"Mister Mickelson, Miss Robertson isn't here." I repeat in the most polite way I could. It's not that I was going to be impolite because even if I wanted to I never would.

"Yeah...tell her to come."

Alright I gave up. I shook my head and decided to just go back to my room, he is home he should be fine by himself since we are sort of the only people here. It was still late at night and I don't know why Miss Robertson was that late. Where did she go? She should be on her way back.

As soon as I reached the doorway of my room, I head glasses broken meeting the wood of the floor of the mansion. I ran back to where I was standing first to see broken pieces of the vase that was on the small table and stood there not sure of what I should do, I watched him pushing the vase off the table with anger. He groaned when it met the floor like the other one .

Oh this is worst than yesterday.

"Miss Robertson!" He shouted, leaning on the wall of the living room just so I could get a great view of him from up here.

What should I do now? Before I could think what I was doing I was running down the stairs toward where he was standing. My mind was convincing me over wise but I didn't have time to think what I should do and what I shouldn't. What is right to do and what is wrong.

Before he could break another vase, my hand were around his wrist, holding it back, I shouted "stop!"

His palm was bleeding and his eyes was bloody red. He looked tired, drunk barely walking straight. I took his arm and placed it around my shoulder and formed mine around his waist so I could hold him better.

"Miss Robertson." He murmured probably about to black out.

I hurried to the couch in the living room and placed him down so he could lay on it, I said "sit still!"