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Nina

I always thought that if I were to move back into my childhood home, all I would feel is peace. Because I’d know my dad is under the same roof as me again and if I asked my mom to sit with me, she could be next to me in seconds.

But now that I'm here, the opposite of alone, I find that's not reality at all. Had I moved back here just because and not due to some unspeakable trauma, then maybe I could have found relaxation within these walls again. But I don't.

With Kai, Henry, Ridge, and Trevor asleep around me in the wee hours of the morning, I feel strange. Like being in my parent's basement isn't right after everything I've been through.

I may not have been comfortable staying in my house any longer, but this isn't my future either. Living with my parents, having their constant support these past eight hours feels too much like the past.

The one where I was lost and uncertain all the darn time. I'm ready for more, even though I'm absolutely terrified.

I may have woken up because of a nightmare an hour ago and still have so much work to do on myself, but I'm feeling antsy to get there. Someday soon I hope I can have a job and maybe go to school. I'm not sure how long it will take, but unless I push myself, it won't ever happen.

Maybe the issue is being here with my parents upstairs, surrounded by the scent of fresh baked bread and last night’s dinner, is that it's too comfortable.

God, how crazy am I? Mr. M has been dead for like twelve hours and I'm already itching to get out into the world.

Last month I was confined to my house. A few months before that, I chose not to go anywhere unless absolutely necessary.

Now, I would love to go sit in a twenty-four-hour diner because I can .

Sure, I'm scared. But that's because I don't have experience with the real world...at least not as a twenty-year-old.

So here I lay, brainstorming all the ways I can celebrate my twenty-first birthday in a few weeks.

Will I be ready to go get a drink at a loud bar?

First Trevor will make us double check with my doctor, because you know, concussion.

Which has done its job thumping around in my skull.

Or maybe I'm just exhausted. Highly probable, but I bet the biggest part of my restlessness is because I've spent far too long cooped up for fear I'd be hunted down and murdered.

Now, my would-be murderer is dead. My dad shot my demon.

Sighing, I snuggle into my favorite blanket a little more and wiggle into Kai's arm. As I drift off, the feeling of gratitude settles me. I feel like every girl dreams of a dad who would kill for them.

Mine would and did.

I'm free.

Thank you, daddy.