Norman:
"How is she?" I asked Jessica's father, whose swollen eyes showed he was grieving the loss of his son.
I didn't care.
But I couldn't tell them not to cry. Parents cry even when their kid is wrong. Tears can mean many things. Sometimes, they come from guilt—for not helping shape their kids into better people.
"She is a mess," her father replied. "Now that you're here, give her some medicine. I can't look at her face right now." He had been distant from her ever since she saved Helanie's life by killing her own brother.
She didn't have to do it, we knew that. We were going to protect Helanie anyway, but Jessica taking that step still meant a lot.
I went into Jessica's room, where everything was in chaos. She was sitting on the floor, covered in her own blood.
"Jessica, what have you done?" I rushed over and knelt down, holding her hands. Thankfully, the blood came from scratches, not a serious injury.
