𝟎𝟎𝟖.

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___________________𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜,𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒.___________________

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𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻
𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜,𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒.
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AS WE PULLED up to my father's house, I couldn't help but let out a deep sigh, my brows furrowing in frustration.

The worn-down structure before me was a constant reminder of the struggles I'd faced in trying to fix not only the physical space, but also the people within it. I lifted my head, meeting the sympathetic gaze of the Pogues, who seemed to sense the turmoil brewing inside me.

Pope spoke up first, his voice laced with concern, "Bree, are you sure...?"

I interrupted him with a nervous chuckle, waving it off. "Guys, you know me. I'll be fine." Pope's expression turned somber, and he nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to his shoes in the truck.

Kie leaned over to me and gave my have a light squeeze of reassurance. "We'll be right here if you need us." she whispered.

I offered a small smile, my eyes darting to JJ, whose clenched jaw and fists betrayed his frustration at my decision to face my father alone. He stepped out of the truck, holding open the door for me with a look of quiet anger etched on his face.

As I stepped out into the sweltering heat, JJ's hand closed around mine, his thumb gliding across my fingers in a gentle caress. His ocean-blue eyes locked onto mine, filled with an urgent plea.

"Please," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please, if he so much as touches a hair on your head, you'll call me. Promise me."

My heart skipped a beat as I hesitated, feeling the weight of his words. I couldn't promise him that – couldn't guarantee that I get him involved in that. But I didn't want to lie to him either.

So I nodded instead, my voice barely above a whisper. "Jay. It will be quick."

JJ's voice pierced through the air, his glare burning with intensity as he demanded, "Bree, I said promise me." I hesitated for a moment, my fingers reluctantly slipping out of his grasp. I pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, the tender gesture a futile attempt to ease the tension between us. Ignoring his objections, I turned away and pushed open the creaky door, stepping into the silence that enveloped my home.

As I ventured deeper into the house, an eerie stillness settled over me. It was as if the very air itself was heavy with despair. "Dad?" my voice barely above a whisper, but there was no response.

I wandered aimlessly, my eyes stinging with unshed tears as I took in the devastation that lay before me. Broken glass bottles and shattered mirrors littered the floor, their jagged edges glinting like a thousand tiny knives in the dim light. The walls, once a warm and welcoming haven, now stood scarred and broken, the plaster cracked and crumbling like the fragments of my own heart.

𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑾𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑺 /𝑗𝑗 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑘Where stories live. Discover now