I drifted to sleep between the patter of raindrops and awoke to thunder within my home. My father’s words went unheard, but the wake of his shout still radiated outward.

“Steven!” My mother chastises in a harsh whisper.

He matches her volume with an urgent, “We have to!”

I hear her sharp inhale and aborted attempts to answer turned whimpers.

He ends her struggle with an insistent, “Now!”

The hushed word much louder now in the only warning before his body shutters the light from the cracked door of my bedroom.

I hold in my whine at my fear of the dark.

His reasoning for being here so late takes precedent over such childish things.

“Lily?” He croons softly, familiarly.

A kind tone that I now know is all an act.

_‘That’s alright_,’ I decide.

I’m only five, but my teacher says I’m good at acting, too.

Lightning illuminates my father in the doorway, looking warily down at where I lie.

“Yes, Daddy?” I reply in a sweet sleepy voice.

Thunder booms.

The door coasts open against his shoulder as he enters my room.

He pauses briefly, hands on hips as he scans the small floral rug at his feet in thought.

With a click of his tongue, he actively hurdles it before closing the distance and crouching at my bedside until we’re eye to eye.

Pointedly avoiding the matching bed to the left that remains eerily empty, “We’ve got to go, sweetie,” he says with a sadness that I see right through.

‘_Going_’ is obviously his idea.

I just don’t get why he’s so worked up about it.

This place sucks now.

I got sent to bed without dinner just hours ago for saying as much.

But the unease that he can’t seem to hide begins to inspire mine.

I pull my prized unicorn comforter up to my chin.

“Why?” I ask on the verge of tears.

He swallows roughly and attempts a smile that doesn’t stick.

“It’s not safe here,” he says with a look.

I nod in honest understanding and reluctantly peel down my sheets.

His relief at my easy acceptance almost makes me take it back, but then my mother is scuttling into the room and frantically pulling open drawers and shoving things into a bag.

“Jules!” He hisses at her.

She waves him off and continues packing.

A flash of light brightens the room like a camera capturing our collective disarray, instantly followed by a loud crack that rattles the windows.

The adults flinch.

My father sighs and robotically grabs a small coat from the hand painted rack before helping to thread my arms through the sleeves over my unicorn pajamas.

As he reaches for the zipper, we seem to simultaneously realize that this jacket isn’t mine.

He blinks rapidly and slowly closes me in its confines with a similar reverence to the dirt that he’d tossed on her grave.

Dad seems to get lost looking at me once he’s done. Like if he squints, he could pretend she’s still here, if only for a moment.

Thin cold fingers lace through mine.

I startle and look up at the person they’re a part of, my mothers watery smile not exactly inspiring any confidence in this endeavor.

“C’mon,” she encourages us both.

My father snaps out of his trance and storms from the room. The door to the garage slams open and shut only seconds later.

“He’s just in a hurry,” she encourages unconvincingly.

I almost wish she were a good actor, too.

Her grip never relents, even as we reach the car.

She even joins me in the backseat, along with my bag at our feet, simply holding me in her lap.

Pretty sure this isn’t allowed, but they’re the adults I guess.

My father doesn’t look back at all as he reverses from the quiet garage and into the raging storm.

The rain is falling so hard that it’s like we’re stuck in a rapidly filling aquarium.

I can’t decide if that’s why it seems like he’s driving super fast, but then the terrifying trip is over as soon as it began.

It’s impossible to see any discernible shapes outside.

“C’mon,” my mother says again, but this time there’s a tone of defeat.

She eyes my bag before ignoring it as she cracks open the door, pulling only me along with her.

I glance at my father in the drivers seat as I go.

He’s resolutely focused on the wall of water falling down his windshield, hands wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel like he’s trying to break it in half.

I’m yanked out into the rain and then onto a cobbled stone driveway.

The car door slams closed with finality at my back.

The house before me is palatial, the closest thing to a mansion I’ve ever seen.

I recognize it as one they’ve pointed out as we’ve driven by.

It belongs to the owners of their rival company.

“What are we doing here?” I whine as she drags me to their door.

“You hate them,” I remind my mother in a whisper, hoping she won’t be embarrassed for forgetting.

We reach their stoop.

Her dark eyes, so different than mine, dance over me in regret.

“You live here now,” the woman tells me.

All the artificial emotions I’ve been emitting drain from my body.

Her lips twitch knowingly at my blank stare.

“Everything is going to be fine,” she promises with teary eyes, but that’s what the last one said, too.

I know it’s not my fault that bad things happen to every family that takes me in like I’m some unlucky charm to them.

How could I have had anything to do with this one’s daughter running with scissors, tripping over the rug in our room, and impaling her heart when she fell?

But it’s honestly the least of all that’s occurred because of the apparent curse of my presence.

I’ve been shuffled around like a pawn as soon as people realized how I can be utilized, but I really thought these ones were different.

Julie mistakes my resolve as understanding, exhaling her relief before she rushes out in the rain and into the car without looking back.

_I hope they get in a crash,_ I think, as their brake lights disappear.

Making sure to lean into the downpour for a moment to ensure I’m extra soaked for pity points, I then turn and reach up to ring the doorbell.

It takes two tries and a startled voice through the speaker on the other side, but then there’s a woman in a robe opening the ornate wooden front door.

She gasps and clutches her chest as she looks down at me.

_Yup._

_I’m in._

Not even the distant extended blare of a car horn and catastrophic crunch of metal can interrupt my internal delight.

I let my chin tremble and tears fill my eyes.

“Are you my new mommy?”

“Oh!” she cries and ushers me inside, cooing, “You poor soul.”

Funny.

I was just thinking the same thing.