I did this to her.

But I wouldn’t take it back.

I wouldn’t take it back because I have her now. I’ll run away with her, as far as she wants. I’ll hold her every night and watch her fall asleep in my arms.

Always.

She’ll never be without me again.

“Is there anyone you still want to talk to?” I ask her as I figure out every detail. Every single thing that has to be done before we leave. She’s nestled in the crook of my arm in my bed, her small frame curved around my side. Her hair brushes my arm while she shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. Clearing her throat, she adds, “I just want to leave.”

I know she does. She’s always wanted to leave. Ever since the first day I met her, I knew I’d run away with her if I could.

“I want you to leave your phone,” I tell her, and she asks quickly, “Because of the person who texted about Dave?”

“Partly,” I tell her honestly, feeling the anxiety spike inside of me. I don’t want her to know the truth. I’ll never tell her all of the truth. Never. “I don’t know who it is. And I don’t like that.” I play the possessive card, although I’m sure she can see right through it. “If there’s no one you want to call, I’d rather you just leave it behind.”

She’s quiet for a moment, but instead of asking questions, she concedes. “I can leave it behind. I can leave everything behind.” I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding and stroke her hair.

“There are a few things I have to do tomorrow. I’ll run into work, come back, pack and then we leave.” Adrenaline is coursing through me, knowing this is a decision I can’t go back on. Once I leave, that’s it. There’s no coming back and I have no idea where we’ll run to.

“Just like that?” she asks with slight disbelief, peeking up at me through her lashes.

“Just like that,” I tell her and bend down to kiss her, listening to the bed groan in time with a faint siren from outside. No more streetlights drifting through the window, no more yelling down the street. No more of this city and the people in it. Wherever we go, I want it to be quiet and far, far away from here. I need somewhere we can escape to where no one will find us and where it’ll feel like home.

“It’s all going to be okay,” I whisper against her hair before planting a small kiss on her forehead. She holds me tightly, like she’ll never let me go. “It’s all going to be all right.”

“Promise me you’ll run with me?” she asks me again like I’ll back out of it.

“Tomorrow we pack up everything in one car,” I tell her firmly, “and we leave.” I’ll do it. I’ll leave it all behind to be with her and keep her safe.

“And we leave forever, promise me?” her voice begs me, and I swear I’d give her anything I could. Anything and everything I ever have will be hers.

She’s tense at my side, waiting for my answer. I know there’s no going back, but I choose her. It’s always been her.

“As long as you love me forever,” I give her my one condition, feeling the tension in my heart, needing her to agree and say she’s mine forever.

“I can make that promise,” she breathes, “I’ll love you forever.”

“I’ve always loved you,” I whisper against her cheek. And it’s true. There have never been truer words spoken.

I turn nine tomorrow. I think, anyway. I want to ask the guy behind the counter, so I’ll know for sure. I don’t know why I care; I just want to know, I guess.

Peeking over my shoulder, I make sure Jim and my mom are occupied so I can go ask what day it is.

We just moved here. Mom took me with her, although part of me wishes she’d left me at Grandmom’s, even if there’s no one there anymore. At least I have the memories there. This city is different, everyone’s always watching me. Looking at me like I’m going to do something so they can pick a fight.

They say I’m a bad kid. They say I’m angry.

I used to think they were wrong, but I don’t anymore.

Boys like me are trouble. Too tall for my age, too smart for my own good. I’m not worth the air I breathe. That’s Jim’s new saying. He likes to remind me every chance he gets, even though he’s the one giving my mom that shit that makes her go numb. He’s the one who isn’t worth the air he breathes but saying that only gets me punched in the face until I go numb too and black out.

I pull out the candy from my pocket. I only have two pieces left and as I pull out my hand, both of them drop to the floor and one rolls faster than I can catch it.

The candy stops rolling when it hits the edge of the counter and bounces off, only to stop in front of a small pair of shoes. They’re white but scuffed up and I slowly lift my gaze to the owner of the shoes. To the short girl who’s bending down to pick up my candy.

She can’t have it!

My jaw’s hard, and I clench my teeth even though the bruise there makes it hurt. My hands turn to fists. All I have left of my grandmom are these two pieces.

She can’t have it!

She picks it up so delicately and carefully, then smooths out her dress. It’s then that I notice how dirty it is like she’s been sitting on the ground all day. It’s wrinkled too. When she stands up her big doe eyes are filled with worry and she turns to look at a woman by the fridge doors. The woman’s skinny, skinny like my mom. That’s what I think as the bottles she’s picking up clink together.

The girl looks like she wants to say something, but she’s scared, so she says nothing. Her gaze drops to the ground, then she lifts her head back up to look around.

She’s looking for me; I know she is.

The instant she sees me, the worry goes away and she smiles. A genuine smile that’s just for me.

“Is this yours?” she offers in a soft voice that makes the anger go away. Only for a second though, because the moment she asks me, she peeks over at the woman and looks nervous to even be talking to me.

Because I’m a bad kid. That’s why. Everyone knows it. Even her.

Her knees nearly buckle as she stands there, holding the candy out to me even though I’m feet away from her.

She’s afraid to move. “My mom told me to stay here,” she explains.

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. She looks sad like me until she smiles at me, then it changes everything.

She’s strange. Like she doesn’t want to be here.

I may not belong here, but she doesn’t either.

“Thanks,” I tell her as I walk to her and she nervously looks between me and the woman again, her mom.

She’s shy as she talks to me. “I haven’t met you before.” And then she smiles again, even sweeter this time. She smiles at me like her happiness was meant to belong to me. Like I could take that happiness from her. Like I could be happy too. “I’m Chloe Rose.”