It was raining.

Not too hard. The drops were falling from the sky, soft and steady clouded in white velvet and making a rhythm on the rooftop. It was a pleasant sound to wake up to.

Prim had her window open as usual. No matter the weather outside or the temperature inside, she slept with it open. Living on the second floor, she felt like she didn't need to worry about someone trying to break in.

She yawned loudly and stretched the first good stretch of the morning, sitting up as she did so. She blinked and rubbed last night's sleep out of her eyes, reaching over for her water bottle that was propped up against her simple metal framed headboard.

The plastic crinkled with Prim's last sip and she screwed the cap back on, tossing the empty bottle somewhere in her room. She always did that and at the end of the week, she'd recycle them all just in time for garbage day on Monday morning.

Despite having chugged the water as fast as she could, her stomach growled in tune with her thoughts.

She was hungry and had skipped dinner, last night. Again.

Dinner at home was never peaceful and while nobody was there to see it, Prim rolled her eyes heavily. She had just woken up and she was already irritated. However, that wasn't going to help anything go any smoother. So, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

It was a new day.

She pushed herself to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs back and forth. Her toes barely brushed carpeted floor and she blew out another heavy breath, ruffling some hair that had fallen out of her messy bun on top of her head.

She tried to brush it out of her face to no avail, the strands tickling her face as they swung back into place. She rarely wore her hair up unless she was sleeping. It was bright copper in color and fell slightly past her mid-back in long waves as though she had undone a simple three stand plait that she had done the night before.

She never cut her hair, only occasionally had the dead ends trimmed off, but she did that herself.

Jumping lightly off her bed and onto her feet, she stretched again, having finally convinced herself to get her day started. She had stalled long enough and headed to the bathroom, grabbing her baby blue robe off the hook on the back of her bedroom door.

She flinched when she turned on the bathroom light. The fluorescence were so bright, they could have been sterile, showing off every one of Prim's pores and imperfections.

The bathroom itself was nice and spacious. Gleaming counter tops, shiny mirrors and cabinets. The shower was a pretty decent size, too. And this was just the upstairs bathroom.

When she was finished using the bathroom, she washed her hands, glancing in the mirror while floral scented foam ran down the drain.

She had an oval shaped face, an acne scar fading near her hairline. A pair of wide set, amber eyes stared back at her and she wrinkled her soft, petite nose. She puffed out her cheeks, pouting her pink lips and blew out more air, making a face at herself. It was a very average appearance and it didn't help that she only stood 5'3".

She finished washing her hands and dried them, placing a black bobby pin in her hair to secure the pieces that had fallen out. She didn't feel like redoing her bun and knew that her hair was a dry, tangled mess from her sleep.

She felt much more awake and left the bathroom at a much quicker pace, trying to be quiet as she hurried down the thick, carpeted stairs. She didn't want to wake her siblings, just in case they were still sleeping.

"And, then, like, Lisa told me that if I helped her study, then she'd give me a ride home from the party. So, is that fine? And then you can just drop me off? Please, mom? I really don't want to drive. It's on a Friday."

Prim threw her head back in annoyance, jumping off the last two steps. That was the voice of her older sister Emory. So, she was awake. And if Emory was up and gabbing, then of course, that meant—

"I guess," came her mother's voice with a loud sigh, "Fine…yeah, that's fine."

Prim tightened the belt on her robe, her pink polka-dotted pajamas still peeking through and kept her head down as she walked into the kitchen. Everyone was already dressed and at the table, eating homemade waffles, eggs, fruit and turkey bacon, drinking orange juice out of pretty glasses.

"Morning, Primmy!"

Despite having her back turned to get a plate out of the cupboard, Prim beamed, instantly perking up at her older brother's nickname for her. He had been calling her that for years and while they didn't spend a whole lot of time together, they were close and Noah had always been nothing but sweet to her and Prim adored him for it. She always would.

She turned her head and waved good morning to him, a smile on her face. A smile, that grew when she saw that Noah had already saved a seat for her with a plate all ready set.

Noah was eighteen and in his senior year of high school. He was handsome and very popular at school, considering he was on the basketball team. His thick black hair was cut medium length and parted on the left, brushing his upper back. He had russet brown skin that looked liked it had warmed under the sun, his light brown eyes were alight with youth. Having gotten his braces off, he always smiled more, showing off his dimples and new pearly whites.

Prim began to walk towards the table to sit down, when her mother's firm voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Primrose, you're not even dressed," her mother scolded, without so much as a morning greeting. She sounded disgusted when she spoke again, "Have you showered, yet? And you know I hate that robe. The bell sleeves never stay down. Where's the one with the longer sleeves?"

Prim exhaled softly in response.

Her mother, Celia had her curly reddish-brown hair cascading perfectly past her shoulders. She had just gotten fresh low lights and the new color suited her. She was pretty and tall, her flawless and tanned white skin free of any makeup except for a light coat of mascara. She had thin lips and brown eyes that were always hard. The skin around her mouth was free of any laugh lines.

Hesitantly, Prim walked towards her mother and when she got close enough, slowly held her hand out towards her mother's face.

"Stop it!" Celia's eyes flashed.

Gasping loudly, Prim snatched her hand back, holding it tightly to her chest. She had reacted quickly enough. If she hadn't, she would have been struck when her mother slapped her hand away.

Even Emory had startled, orange juice sloshing out of her glass and onto the mahogany table. She sat beside Celia as she always did. The two were as thick as thieves and everyone knew that Emory was Celia's golden child.

Emory was seventeen and in her junior year of high school—even though there were talks of Emory graduating early. At least, that's what she said.

Emory was gorgeous and Prim secretly wished she could be pretty like her. Emory could be a model if she really tried—she could probably be one without trying. She had light russet skin and glowing undertones, not a pimple or acne scar in sight—only a small smattering of freckles across her nose, but even those were perfectly in place. She had pretty brown eyes and every feature fit her face. At least, Prim thought so. Emory's wavy sleek black hair was in a neat French braid, showing off her nice cheekbones.

"Mom!" Noah scolded, "Why did you do that?"

"You're seventeen, now, Primrose," Celia continued, wiping her mouth with her napkin, "Almost an adult. You can use your damn words! I—" she took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she waved her hand dismissively, "You know what? Emory, Noah…go upstairs. Hurry and get going to school. You're running late enough as it is."

Emory rushed out of the room and Noah followed close after, grabbing two pieces of turkey bacon and throwing Prim a worried look on the way out.

"I just—I can't," Celia stood from her place at the table, leaving breakfast behind. She was rubbing her forehead and Prim followed her mother with her eyes, having yet to move from her spot.

Celia shook her head, "I can't do this," she said, mostly to herself, "And I've tried, I just—Primrose, I think you need help. You need to go somewhere because this," she gestured wildly at Prim with her hands, "This isn't working for me anymore and I've tried so hard. I'm honestly at my wits end with all of this."

Prim stood there and swore she blinked thirty times in less than two seconds. She wondered if she was gonna faint or throw up because her head felt light. Did this mean that her mother was kicking her out? Was she going to be homeless?

And her mother didn't try. Not once had Celia ever tried, but that was another story for another time.

She couldn't believe this was happening. She didn't even get to serve herself breakfast. Trying again, she desperately reached her hand out, pleading with her mother. Her eyes burned, but she didn't want to give her mom the satisfaction of her tears.

"And last night was absolutely ridiculous!" Celia continued ranting, talking with her hands, "You storming off like that. God, you're not two, Primrose. Seriously, I've met infants who talk more than you do and Emory can't ever have her friends over because—

That's when Prim stopped listening. To put it in simple terms: she and Emory didn't get along at all and never have. Emory had never shown Prim an ounce of kindness.

"Hey!"

A loud noise startled Prim back into the present and she placed a hand to her heart with how hard she had jumped.

Her mom had slammed her hand down on the island and looked upset. Prim didn't understand what she had done wrong or what she could have done to make her mom upset like this. Prim hadn't done anything. She could never do anything. She was barely allowed to leave the house.

She stood there helplessly, staring at her mother. It wasn't fair that her mom could lash out like this, but wouldn't give Prim the opportunity to speak her part. She was supposed to stand there and take it.

If her mom thought she acted like a child, then that's what Prim was going to do.

Balling her fists, as hard as she could, Prim stomped her foot, her bare skin slapping loudly against the shiny linoleum floor.

In response, Celia seemed to startle, her eyebrows flicked up at the act. She pressed her lips together, folding her arms across her chest, waiting.

The air in the kitchen turned thick with tension.

Prim tried to stop her whole body from shaking. By now, her thoughts and feelings were so compacted, she thought she was going to explode.

"Primrose," Celia scolded calmly, "Really? Grow up."

Prim had half a mind to completely lose it and throw everything from the table onto the floor, she was so upset, but she knew that might be a little dramatic. She wasn't a violent person and her mom had worked hard to make breakfast, this morning, even if she didn't get to eat it.

Again, trying one last time, she reached out for Celia. Her hand was shaking.

She was pretty sure her eyes were as hard as Celia's frequently were. The difference was that Prim's brimmed tears that burned in her eyes. There was so much that she needed to say to her mother. Why wouldn't she listen?

Celia glanced at Prim's hand and Prim felt a flutter of hope, but then, Celia walked out from around the island, her heels clicking against the floor. With her lips still pursed, she began to clear the breakfast table, taking one long sip from her coffee mug.

Feeling defeated, Prim dropped her hand to her side and her eyes to her feet. The tense silence was filled with her mother cleaning up the dishes.

So, that was it then.

"Go shower, get dressed and bring down your books," Celia instructed firmly. She still wouldn't look at Prim, "You have school work to do."

Prim was home schooled by her mother and had been since she could remember. Prim longed to go to public school like her siblings. She often got embarrassed when Noah and Emory came home with all these stories and tales of friends and the only story that Prim had was that she had spent all day with her mom.

Footsteps came pounding down the stairs and Prim turned her head, just in time to see Emory and Noah standing in the kitchen doorway, dressed and ready for school.

"We're ready," Emory announced, smacking her lips.

"Yeah," Noah drawled, frowning, "Prim! Hey, why are you crying?"

'Finally,' Prim thought, allowing her brother to take her hand. Someone that was going to listen to her.

Noah's eyes were downcast, his eyes blank as he held Prim's hand to his cheek.

And there it was. That's what Prim had done wrong.

You see, Prim couldn't express herself through words like others could. Sure, the English language was beautiful and there were millions—probably an infinite number of words she could pick from, but no matter how many words there were, they simply didn't come naturally. It was hard for her. So, she didn't use them.

For as long as Prim could remember, she instead, could show people her thoughts simply by touching them. They were like vivid pictures. She could send people her feelings or her actual thoughts if the situation called for it. She usually preferred touching people's cheeks as for her, it was more of a connection, but not everybody liked that or was comfortable, fortunately hands worked just as well.

She had always been able to do it and couldn't help it. It was how she communicated. Not with everybody, of course. Okay, so, not with many people at all. Prim wasn't stupid. She knew what she could do wasn't normal and if she showed the wrong person, there was the potential that they would go ballistic and tell other people and those other people might send her away to be experimented on.

So, she settled with using her phone to type, writing in a small notebook or nodding and shaking her head if it was appropriate.

Prim kept her eyes on the ground as Noah released her hand. She felt bad when she heard Noah let out a loud sigh. He was constantly trying to defend her and that always got him in trouble.

"Mom…" it was one word that Noah uttered, but it was full of desperation.

"What?" Emory asked, frowning.

"I think," Celia started and Prim looked up to see her mom holding up her hands in defense, "I think that Primrose needs help—

"Prim, mom," Noah interrupted, correcting the use of her first name, "It's Prim."

"Well, Primrose hasn't told me that," Celia clipped back, rather immaturely.

Prim sighed, rolling her eyes. She hated it when her mom did that. When Prim had been ten, a therapist had told Celia that Primrose wasn't allowed to have certain things unless she actually asked for them, putting emphasis on the fact that Prim was to ask out loud and Celia had used that tactic sense. Of course, it never worked…not even when Celia had tried it with food.

"She never tells you anything," Emory commented scornfully, "It's stupid and it's embarrassing."

Prim shot a quick glare at her sister, but it quickly softened when Noah spoke. Louder this time.

"She does tell you!" Noah argued, "She's tried so many times and you just ignore her—

"She's going to be eighteen before we know it," Celia practically growled, "And she can speak like a big girl and if she can't, then she needs to—

"Are you sending her away?" Emory asked hopefully, "Is she going back to the fo—

"Shut up, Emory!" Noah snapped, whirling around on their sister, "Nobody asked you!"

"Nobody has to ask me," Emory quipped, inspecting her nails as if she were bored, "You know, I just don't understand why nobody ever asks me. Like, nobody cares about how she affects my life, but whatever. It's fine. I'm gonna wait in the car. Hurry up."

Prim felt like she was going to cry again as Emory turned and walked out of the room. She felt like this was some kind of staged intervention and it was going all wrong. Prim had never done anything to affect Emory's life negatively. In fact, she always tried to stay out of Emory's way, but nothing ever worked.

"Your sister needs helps," Celia was speaking in a much softer tone, "More than I can give her and it doesn't make me a bad mother for admitting that. She needs to be in a place where she can get support and help and therapy because this isn't something that can continue. This place I found…it has all kinds of different therapy. There's this one—and I've been looking into it for awhile. It's called electroshock—

"No!" Noah shouted, startling Prim, "Mom, oh my god, are you serious?"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" Celia slapped the counter again, putting firmness to her words, "I'm her mother. Me. And Noah Allen Larson-Call," she pressed her lips together, closing her eyes for a brief second, "You are crossing a lot of lines and I don't know what makes you think that's okay. Not under my roof. You're grounded."

"What!?" Noah cried.

Prim rubbed at her eyes, wiping away tears that had yet to fall. She knew that this was going to happen. It was hopeless.

She felt like she was going to throw up and silently excused herself from the kitchen, rushing up the stairs as quietly as she could and going back to her room.

She shut the door with a quiet click and stripped her robe off, abandoning it on the floor.

She crawled back into bed and pulled her comforter over her head. There was no point in getting up or showering or wasting her time getting dressed. School could wait.

It was there, alone in her room, under the darkness of her blankets, that she let the tears fall.

"How was school today?"

Forks scraped against plates, in response to Celia's question. Emory sipped from her water glass and Noah took a big bite of baked salmon.

Prim pushed around her asparagus, then cut off the tops and moved them to the edge of her plate. She had skipped doing her school work, today and fell back asleep after her brief crying spell. When she woke up, she found that her mother had gone and taken the car.

She had the whole house to herself and it was nice to be alone for awhile, away from the watch of her mother's eyes even if it wasn't for long.

Noah cleared his throat and took a sip of water. He had barely swallowed, when he announced, "School was good!"

"Was it?" Celia asked, hopefully. She smiled a little, "What was so good about it? Did you get your history test back?"

Noah shrugged, "No, I didn't get my test back. I'll get it back, tomorrow, but, um…at lunch, I talked to dad."

"Oh," Celia mumbled, "Did he call you too, Emory?"

"I called him," Noah interjected before Emory could answer, "We talked for a long time."

Prim glanced up at Noah. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes were focused on cutting his salmon into bits that he wasn't eating.

She hadn't heard from their dad either, not that anyone asked. Usually, they communicated through email, but it had been about a week since his last one.

"That's good," Celia's barely there smile was hanging by a thread, "You guys all need to talk to your dad more. Seriously. We're gonna need to talk about this summer," she shook her head, getting off track, "Anyway, Noah…that must have been nice. What'd you guys talk about?"

Noah cleared his throat. Once, then again. It was an easy tell that he was nervous.

"I mean, I don't know…stuff I guess," he said, biting his lip, "Um…we talked and—I told him—well, I asked if Prim could come and live with him and he said yes, but he needs to talk to you about it."

"What!?" Emory cried at the same time Prim gasped.

It took a moment for Prim to register what Noah had announced to the table. He had asked their dad if she could go live with him? Wow…

Their dad, Kian lived all the way in the tiny town of Forks, Washington. He had lived there for quite some time and decided to stay there after the divorce, while Celia whisked them all the way to Indianapolis. As per agreement between the two, Celia got them during the school year and Kian got them during the summer. They alternated between holidays, but it had been awhile. Celia always complained about how much she had hated Forks.

Prim placed a hand to her chest as her heart sped up. She wanted to laugh with both disbelief and relief. Going to Forks was something she had never considered. Was it something that was going to work for her?

"No," Emory said as if she were offended. She looked to Celia, "She doesn't get to go there!"

"It's not your decision or your business," Noah sneered to his sister, "You don't even like Forks. Last time we were there, you were a brat and called mom crying everyday, while you sat on your butt. You didn't even help Billy or Harry or anyone or go with dad back to the Rez like you were supposed to."

"So what?" Emory snapped, "I have before. And she—

"Both of you knock it off!" Celia snapped loudly, "Be quiet!"

Prim bit her lip. She already had her hopes up. She didn't know what was in Forks for her or what she would do in Forks. She had never spent much time with her dad. Things were kind of awkward, but in the time they did spend together, he was a lot nicer to her than Celia. He probably loved her more, too. Anywhere, Prim figured was better than what Celia had planned.

"Noah, I don't even want to look at you, right now," Celia waved him off. Her voice shook, "Go upstairs. You're excused and don't come out of your room for the rest of the night."

"Fine," Noah shrugged carelessly, "I don't care. You're always treating Prim like shit. Dad would never do that."

"You know what? You're so ungrateful! Don't you ever ask me to do anything for you ever again!" Celia shouted after Noah as he stormed out of the room and ran up the stairs.

Prim bit her trembling bottom lip. Where was all of this anger coming from? That had escalated so quickly. While she hated being talked about as if she weren't sitting there, she was so grateful for what Noah had attempted to do for her and loved him so very much.

"He is such a loser," Emory said. She took a bite of her dinner roll, "He's literally a crazy person."

Prim glared at Emory, but the look was lost as her sister was focused on cutting up her salmon. Prim switched her gaze to her mother whose face was flushed in anger.

"You're not going to Forks," Celia said firmly, looking at Prim as if she had done something wrong, "You're going to treatment as soon as they have a bed available, so, don't get your hopes up, Primrose. The state pays for this kind of thing."

So, now it was treatment?

Prim had lost her appetite long ago and pushed her plate away, feeling sick to her stomach. She had no idea that it was going to be that soon. What if a bed became available tomorrow or as soon as tonight? Was her mom going to whisk her away while everyone was sleeping and that would be that? Would she be taken by men in uniform? What if a call came that a bed was available in the next ten minutes?

Every muscle in her body felt tight. She tried to swallow, but it was painful, her mouth was dry. Already, her heart was accelerating and her mind was racing. This was a thing. This was something that was actually going to happen.

Her stomach heaved and she jumped to her feet, speed walking out of the kitchen. She ran up the stairs as quick as she could and burst into Noah's bedroom, slamming the door behind her and locking it with sweating, trembling fingers.

"Prim!" Noah jumped, "What!? Oh my god, can you knock!?"

Prim's breathing became more rapid, more shallow. The tears cutting down her cheeks, felt like hot sauce burning her eyes. She wanted her thoughts to stop so that she could get a breath it, but they wouldn't. She felt sick and she held her head in her hands, squatting on Noah's floor. She coughed once, biting her lip so hard she risked breaking skin.

"Prim, stop that!"

While Noah's voice sounded far away, she was able to hear him, but couldn't force herself to open her eyes in order to see him.

Suddenly, she felt cold all over and there was a sharp sting that came from the top of her head. It stole the heat from her body and forced her to gasp in a large breath.

The shock gave her a moment of clarity and instinctively, she brought up her hands to rub the moisture from her eyes, licking her lips when a drop rolled down her face.

It tasted sweet.

Her chest was still heaving with uneven breath, but she managed to calm some, blinking furiously. She fell fully to her knees, something wet seeping into her jeans.

She coughed once more and ran her hand across her forehead. Not smoothly however. Skin caught on skin for a brief moment and she open and closed her hand, put off by the stickiness.

She looked up at her brother, who looked freaked out, then to the empty cup clutched in his hands.

"It's Mountain Dew," he admitted, "There was some ice left in it and it was cold. Sorry, I didn't know what else to do. It was either that or go get mom."

Prim nodded, quick jerks of her head, still sitting in the puddle of soda.

Noah knelt down to Prim's eye level on one knee, setting the cup down beside him.

"I'll clean it up, later," he said, which really meant he was going to throw a towel over it and call it a day, "Lemme see."

Prim let Noah take her hand to his face. She had trouble focusing on him and settled for looking somewhere else. She still didn't have her breathing right.

After a few moments, Noah released Prim's hand, running his own through his hair. He looked at the ground, a knit between his brow.

"Do you remember what I told you awhile ago? You know…what's going to happen after I graduate?"

She nodded. A simple response.

"I know it's kind of far," Noah mumbled, loud enough for Prim to hear, "But I'm thinking of the University of Washington. If I don't get into that, Peninsula College is always an option, but I think UW will be a better option…more opportunities, you know? And I'm willing to make the commute."

No, Prim didn't know, but she nodded anyway to show Noah that she was listening.

"I get tingly every time I think about it," Noah continued talking. His eyes looked kind of far away, "I really have the privilege to do something, Prim."

Prim nodded again. After graduating high school, Noah had a firm plan of moving to La Push to not only to be closer to family, but to reconnect with his people and his culture. He eventually wanted to go to school and major in American Indian Studies, to pursue Tribal Law.

"So," Noah continued, "If you did go to Forks…I'll be there, too. Maybe not right away, but…" he trailed off, shrugging, "Eventually. I think that you should go."

Prim shook her head, reaching out to touch Noah's cheek. Did he seriously forget the tirade their mother went on less than twenty minutes ago? She explicitly said no.

But Noah rejected Prim's way of communication, leaning back out of her reach.

"No, I mean," he lowered his voice, "What if you just went? You know, like ran away or something?"

Prim's face turned thoughtful, but she shook it from her head. No, she couldn't do that. What if it came back to her father and he got in big trouble? It wasn't a risk she was willing to take.

"Then again," Noah mused, "I don't want dad getting in trouble. What if mom says that he kidnapped you or something weird like that?"

Just as Prim held her hand out, Noah spoke again, interrupting her.

"But then, what if you left a note?" he asked, "You know, leave an envelope on your pillow, saying that you're in Forks with dad? I could buy you a plane ticket? And then you could just take a cab to the airport. And once you land in Washington, dad will probably pick you up. We can look for plane tickets, right now!"

Prim felt like she was going to get weird again and start crying and not being able to breathe right. This was all happening so fast. Much, much faster than she ever would have expected. If she thought logically, she supposed she needed to leave as soon as possible, since her mom was planning on sending her away as soon as possible. Emotionally, she wanted to crawl back under her covers and stay there, hoping that this was all a bad dream that would all go away.

But it wasn't. No matter how many times Prim pinched herself, this wasn't going to go away. She wondered how long she would be gone. For a few days? A week? Until she was eighteen? Until she started talking or until she could stop showing people her thoughts?

What if she spent the rest of her life there? Would she die there?

Prim's eyes began to drip with tears at the thought. Salty drops fell from her chin. Here she was, on the floor of her brother's bedroom, crying her eyes out for the second time, covered in sticky Mountain Dew.

She looked at Noah with so much desperation, that she saw the determination leave his eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry, Primmy," Noah whispered, loud enough for her to hear.

She tried to hold it in, but couldn't. She was scared. It caused her heart to ache. It didn't matter how many tears she shed. Tear after tear made no difference and a choked cry forced itself past her lips as she forced herself to press her lips together, silent sobs wracking her body.

.

.

.

That night, when everyone had retired to bed, Prim was walking into her own bedroom, pulling her hair into a messy bun atop her head. For the millionth time that day, she let out a sigh.

She shut her door, clicking the lock into place. She stood there for a moment, starting at the gold doorknob.

It was silent in her room and chilly, too, thanks to her open window.

She made a move to rake her hand through her hair, but stopped, forgetting for a moment that she had just put it up a few seconds ago.

She let out another sigh, louder this time and stripped from her robe, leaving her in a black tank top and pink shorts.

After her breakdown in Noah's room, she had calmed down enough to take a long shower, soothing her tired muscles, washing her hair and scrubbing the sticky soda residue from her body.

As she settled into bed, turning over on her right side, Prim was pretty sure that this had been and always would be the longest day of her entire life.

Sleep would come to no avail, tonight, she knew that and all night, she tossed and turned, her heart racing with that feeling she couldn't place. She longed to even fall into a restless sleep to provide some sort of escape from the day she had.

When Prim did finally fall asleep, it was the sound of the phone ringing at midnight that woke her.

Author's Note: Surprise! Prim is back and (hopefully) better than ever! I'm so excited to be able to revamp this story with the help of my always amazing Beta Reader Sabrina06. I've changed a few of the names and a few small details. Two years later, I feel like I am now in a place where can portray this story more realistically (to a certain point) and accurately. I actually went back and read the older version and cringed at myself. I'm so happy that I deleted the story for my own peace of mind.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this revamped version of 'The Meaning Behind Special' and don't forget to leave a review!

~ FictionChic