I just want to publicly announce that I hope Greg Abbott looses mobility in the rest of his body. Particularly his lungs. And I hope he is in immensible pain when this happens.

Forced birthers are stupid and I don't respect them. Texas is turning into The Handmaids Tale.

It's not fertile people's job to provide infants for infertile loosers. And that comes form someone who's the result of IVF, due to an infertile mother.

Btw, it's 2.30 in the morning here. No judgement.

***

The backyard is beautiful as always. The sun is shining. The soft spurts of wind disturb the surface of the pool, making patterns dance along the bottom and sides of it.

Despite the sun, it's getting colder. The clouds are beginning to cover it. I don't want to go inside yet. But I know where it'll be warm. The hothouse at the very back of the yard. I walk. It feels like miles and miles, the ground moving the opposite way of where I'm going.

Finally, I get there, and I walk in. The flowers are beautiful. Crawling up the walls, nestling in between one another. The roses in the corner are in full bloom. The ground moves beneath me again, and then they're right in front of me. I brush my fingertips underneath the petals, the flower opening further as I touch it.

And then it moves. The vines wrap around my underarms. The thorns bury themselves in my skin, blood dripping onto the stone tiles. I try to pull away, but they just wrap around me tighter, and tighter. It hurts. It hurts so much. Make it stop, please. It hurts.

I sit up with a gasp, my cheeks wet. When I looked to the side, Allen was gone. I was alone. All alone. My eyes moved to my underarms. They were black and blue, dried lines of blood where dad's nails had dragged along my skin. I looked around the room again. Allen...

I got up from the bed, only now realizing that I was still wearing the clothes from yesterday. Alright, change of clothes, then Allen.

Soon, I was in a nice, soft hoodie, and a pair of sweats, before heading off to his office. The door was ajar, when I reached it, and I pushed it open softly. Allen was on the phone, sitting in front of the computer. I sent him a little wave, and he met my eyes. Then pointed to his phone, held up two fingers, and pointed towards the floor. I smiled just a little, before heading out the door, through his bedroom, and down the stairs.

I turned to the left, towards the kitchen, stopping in my tracks when I saw the dining room out of the corner of my eye. I stopped in my tracks, turning towards the room. Walking to it slowly, I looked at the wall, of which a large part was sort of discolored, from the... blood. A chair was missing too. God knows what happened to that.

Two hands wrapped around my waist, making me jump. Allen rested his head on my shoulder. "Hey, no worries, it's just me," he kissed my cheek. "Are you... how are you feeling, Love?"

I sighed. "Pretty shitty, to be honest," I moved my hands down to touch his, and I could physically feel myself calming down.

"Right, of course. I can't believe that he would ever... " he sighed.

I shook my head. "Me neither. I can't believe that I've been living with that terrible shitpiece for 16 years of my life,"

"You want me to call your psychologist? Get you an appointment?"

I nodded, and he kissed me again. "Talking about psychology and mental health... I did something, something you might be mad about, but, I did it for you, and I'm hoping that it'll make things turn out better, eventually,"

I felt my panic slowly spike. "Allen... what'd you do?"

"I uh, I called an old friend of mine. She works in a mental health clinic, and uh... I kind of, sort of... got your father a spot. He's going there once he's released from the hospital, uh, whether he wants to or... not. I've already called your mother and informed her... he was in the background. He did not want to,"

I spun around, my blood boiling so hot that I was pretty sure I was gonna get internal third-degree burns. "You had my father forcibly admitted to a mental institution?" I'm pretty sure the windows cracked at the pitch of my voice.

He held up his hands in front of him. "I know, Love, I'm sorry for not consulting with you first, but he needs help. I believe he's going through a hard time- not that that justifies what he did, but it does explain it. I'm doing what I can to make sure he gets the help he needs, which would eventually benefit you. I'm sorry, but it's just because I love you, and I want to take care of you, and your family,"

I covered my face with my hands, walking away from him. I heard him walking behind me. "Allen, I love you, but I need some space right now, so please, leave me alone,"

A few minutes later, I was sitting on the couch, my hands in my hair, just a little calmer. but still pissed. So, so pissed. What kind of a fucked up person just gets people admitted to mental hospitals on a whim? What kind of person just happens to know someone who works in a mental hospital?!

There was a knock on the doorframe, but I didn't look up. "I... I'm sorry, my Love. I didn't want to make you upset, I was just trying to help,"

"I realize that but it's just... there's so much. This, and everything that happened last night, and the fucking dining room, and I'm just so so exhausted. I didn't mean to yell at you, I didn't want to do that," I sighed. "So, sorry, about that- but having my father forced into a mental hospital without my knowledge is still a shitty thing to do,"

He took a seat next to me, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "I know, sorry, I love you,"

My face still hidden in my hands, I smiled. "I know, it's okay, or well its not... I love you too,"

"But yeah, I agree about the dining room thing, actually, last night I was thinking, this place has a lot of bad... things in it. Bad things that happened, and nightmares and... desires to murder in-laws, so, I thought, maybe we uh... we get a new place. An our place," he squeezed my arm.

I sighed. "Allen, getting a house is just so-"

"What? What's the issue? I'm not trying to be sarcastic here, I really don't understand the issue. I love you, you love me, we're gonna be with each other for the rest of our lives, and this place has tons of shitty things in it, and I want something that's ours, not just mine that you happened to move into. Ours," he took my hand.

A groan left me. "I know that, I know. It just seems like such a big commitment, despite the fact that I know that this is a 'til death do us part situation. It kind of feels like... so much," I buried my face in my hands again. And the fucking stress. Floorplans, and materials, and the inevitable 'how many rooms are we gonna need when we have kids' bullshit. Then there's what furniture we're gonna keep, what we're gonna donate, deciding who gets what side of the closet.

"Right, of course. With everything that's been going on, it's understandable why you might need a break from making decisions and all that, however... will you give it a chance and think about it? For me, please?"

I peeked up from my hands, to where Allen was putting on the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes. Once again I couldn't help but smile. I reluctantly agreed, cussing him out for using the puppy gaze at me. It wasn't fair in the slightest.

We ate our breakfast in the kitchen, and despite his protest, I insisted upon doing the dishes- there was no reason to fill up the dishwasher for two measly plates. Once I'd pulled my sleeves up, I felt a soft hand around my elbow, Allen turning me towards him and examining my arms.

His eyes moved along the bruises and scratched, before he gently, almost without touching me, ran his fingers along the faintly hand-shaped dark marks, a growl erupting in his chest and his eyes lighting up for a second, before the light faded away again, his brows furrowing. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd intervened sooner. Or just... gone with you," he sighed.

My sweet Allen. 

I pulled my arms from his hands, placing my palms on each side of his jaw. "You respected my privacy, and intervened as soon as you realized I needed you to, you did everything you could. And these-'' I gestured to my arms with my head. "-they'll be gone in a few days. Don't worry. I'm honestly just amazed that you didn't straight-up murder him," I laughed a little, more at the ridiculousness of the situation than my shitty joke.

"It uh," he chuckled. "It took all my self-restraint not to, trust me,"

And then we laughed for a little while, at the bullshittyness that was our lives at the moment, and then I did the dishes, while Allen dried them and put them back in the cupboard. Once we were done, he excuses himself just about a thousand times because he had work. And then I was alone again.

The minutes passed slowly, my eyes focused on my phone. "You're a fucking idiot, Paige," I muttered to myself before picking it up, finding my mother in my contacts. I pressed the call button, waiting for her to pick up.

"Hi, sweetie,"

I sighed. "Uh, hi there, mom, uhm... how is he?"

"Well, generally, he's alive, stable, they just wanted to keep him for another week. But as of right now, I don't know how he is. I'm home,"

My heart skipped a beat. "What?"

I heard her sigh at the other end of the line. "I was at the hospital, but it's very hard to help and support someone who doesn't want it, and who spends the entire time yelling at you about how horrible of a wife and mother you are. So I decided that if he thinks I'm such a terrible wife, he would probably prefer for me to stay away." her voice became strangled as she spoke.

"For all it's worth, I think you're a wonderful mother... are you and dad gonna get a divorce? I'm not blaming you if you are, I just want to be prepared, mentally,"

She was silent. For 10 seconds. Then 20.

"I... I don't know, sweetie. Have you talked to Allen... about your father?"

I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Yeah, I know about the mental facility thing,"

She let out a breath of relief. Whether it was over not having to be the one to break the news to me, or the fact that I at least sounded like I'd come to terms with it I couldn't know. "Well, he's going there, and eventually he's coming home again. We were talking that we should maybe let him stay a few months, but anyway, if he shows no improvement after that, then... you should probably be prepared for the worst I'm sorry,"

My throat closed up. The thought of them splitting up, the people I'd seen love each other more and more with each day for 16 years... could real love even exist then? "Right, of course. And don't be sorry mom. You deserve to be happy. I'm almost an adult. We've only got one life, and I don't want you wasting the rest of it with a man who doesn't love you as much as you deserve,"

"Thank you so much. You're the best thing I ever did, Paige. I'm sorry about everything. But anyway, how are you?"

I smiled. "My uh... my arms are sore, but I'm fine. You?"

She laughed. "Well, terrible husband and harmed daughter taking into consideration, I'm good,"

And then I got that feeling. That familiar sensation that the conversation was about to end, when something occurred to me. "Mom... how long had you known dad when you guys moved in together?"

"Why do you ask?" the confusion was evident in her voice.

I let out a deep breath. "Allen has been talking a lot about us getting a house together. A freakin house, mom. I just... is that normal behavior? We've known each other three goddamn months!"

She was silent for a moment. "Well, it's kind of abnormal, I'll give you that, but then again, I've never been much around... people like Allen. Or their mates. You have been living with each other for a while now, but I won't meddle in this. As you said, you're nearly an adult. I will answer your question though; I'd known your father for 5 months when we started talking about moving in together, and on our six month day we moved into our first our place together,"

I nodded. "Right, okay. It just feels a little quick, you know?"

"Yeah, but he loves you. And he seems like he's got the best intentions. Do what you think feels right. I'm happy as long as you're happy,"

I felt tears stinging in my eyes at her words. "Thanks, mom. I love you,"

"I love you most, sweetie,"

And then she hung up, and I was alone again.

I laid my phone down on the coffee table, and then laid back down on the couch. Everything had been so nice last night. A bit tense, no doubt, but mainly nice. Why did you have to ruin everything, dad?

I didn't have long to ponder over the answer before my phone dinged, making me sit back up. The front screen informed me that it was a text from Ember. Oh no.

[why ain't you here? there's pizza in the canteen.

you sick, or been busy getting busy with the

alpha?]

I groaned. Ember. Also, why is it so difficult for some people to capitalize the appropriate letters? It's not hard.

[I've been busy getting bruises from my shit-

head father. Enjoy the pizza- I can probably

convince Allen to make me some. Or well, not

probably, I CAN convince him. Have I missed

anything important in English?]

[wtf did your dad do? if he hurt you imma

kill his sorry ass. as for english nothing

i'd consider important, no. just the usual

shakespeare bs. red doors and all. and

blair is hormonal, so dylan is

exhausted, which is so fucking funny

we miss you- see you tmw?]

[I'll tell you about it when I get back to

school. Always with the damn symbolism. IDK

if I'm coming tmw. Probably, though. Maybe

I'll figure it out. And give Dylan a pat on

the back from me. See you soon!]

I placed the phone next to me with a groan. I'm never gonna graduate. God knows what my dad's gonna do when he thinks that Allen is purposely keeping me from getting an education.

Goddamnit dad. It was so unfair. I hadn't chosen Allen. Allen hadn't chosen me. Whoever my ex-aunt's mate was hadn't chosen her. It was all just randomness that we had nothing to do with, and we were all being punished for it. I sighed. Wonder how things could've been if uncle Derreck hadn't ended his own life. If he'd gotten help.

Wonder what he was even like. What he was thinking that could make him... I shivered as a clammy feeling began moving around under my skin at the thought. Nope, I'll never understand. And I'm more than thankful for that.

My mind wandered back to Allen, my Allen... and moving in with him. Or rather, getting a house with him. In some sense, for a long time, living here with him was like visiting a friend's house. It becomes familiar the more time you spend there, sure, you feel at home. But in some sense, there are still things you don't know. You're a little unsure where the vacuum cleaner is. You almost can't make yourself take something from the fridge without asking.

Living with Allen... I loved it, don't get me wrong, I love him. But choosing to get a house with him, finding a place that would be both of ours rather than just his that I happen to be permanently crashing at... it would feel a lot more like moving away from home. Like growing up and becoming an adult. The rational part of me knew that that was an inevitable part of life, unless you, you know, die, but still part of me wasn't ready to take that step. Or leap, rather.

I dug my fingertips into my scalp. But Allen is. He'd be more than happy to make the leap. He'd jump in, laughing, with his arms tied, and blindfolded, only a thin rope ready to hold him up. He's always sacrificing things for me to be happy. Always taking care of me and holding me and wiping away my tears when I needed him. Am I a bad person if I can't do the same?

The good samaritan inside of me told me yes. I was a terrible person for not being able to give as much love as I was getting. I was a deeply wicked and selfish scumbag if I couldn't let him have this one thing to make him happy.

The self-preserving part of me, the one responsible for my sanity disagreed. I was just protecting myself. Not only for myself, but also for Allen- it would be cruel to express a level of emotion I can't actually walk the walk for.

And then the common sense, the beacon of light in the darkness of doubt, reminded me that no person was inherently good or bad, nor selfish or giving. Allen was selfish for asking this of me. I'm selfish for not being ready. He's selfless for being alright with my non-preparedness. I'm selfless for not making promises I'm not sure I can keep.

Fuck all of this.

I turned around on the side, picking up the remote and flipping through the different streaming services. I landed on Netlfix, beginning yet another rewatch of Sex Education. I let myself get distracted by Oti's masturbatory dysfunction.

Four episodes later, I saw something move at the corner of my eye.

Allen was in the doorway, watching the TV with a raised eyebrow. "Shows these days ain't what they used to be,"

I laughed. "Alright, then, grandpa, you're free to go watch Friends or Will & Grace, but I'm watching the 17-year-olds having problems with their sex lives and paying a classmate to fix it-" I cut myself off. Oh wow, that actually does sound sort of weird. No, it doesn't. You don't let him win.

He chuckled, walking up to the couch, taking a seat, and then laying down behind me. "Alright then. Talking about 17-year-olds, how does it feel; being seventeen?"

I rolled my eyes. "Like I'm one year away from being allowed to join the army, but four away from being allowed to buy a beer,"

He chuckled. "The laws' the law, Love. But really... how are you?"

I groaned. "Why does everyone ask me that? It's exhausting, having to assess my feeling all the time, then process those feelings while simultaneously expressing those feelings in a constructive manner,"

He shrugged behind me. "Well, you have people around you who love you, that's why. They want to know how you're doing. But if you'd like, I can start asking you if you want to talk about how you're feeling. How does that sound for a compromise?"

Once again, I let out a groan, turning around and burying my face in his chest. "It sounds like a wonderful fucking compromise. Mainly one that benefits me, rather than your need to make sure I'm okay," I sighed. "I'm sorry,"

"About what?"

I let out a dry laugh, holding up my hand in front of me, ready to add fingers one by one. "Well, let's check, shall we? 1: Being the cause of my parents' probable divorce. 2: Not being ready to move in with you, and in that relation, 3: Being a selfish bitch who makes everyone around me cater to my emotions. 4: Making you spend your money, on me, because my shitty fucking family traumatizes left and right. 5: Being such a useless screwup who can't even finish high school,"

The tears were threatening to fall, and I felt shitty. And