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My breath was caught in my throat when I saw Elizabeth walk towards me. "Dad." Her beautiful British accent slightly echoed in the sun-washed church entry room. She was so beautiful. I immediately recognized her dress. "It's your mother's." My voice quivered. She nodded. "Dear Elizabeth." I ran my fingers across the flowers, the lilies, that were pinned perfectly in my adopted daughter's hair. Yes, she was absolutely breathtaking. I caressed her face, trying to keep from weeping. She took my hand in her's. Her nails sparkled as she stroked the back of it. "Daddy. Don't cry. Not yet." She giggled slightly while her own tears glistening in her hazel eyes; a lovely trait that set her apart from the rest of the family. I took her into my arms. 'Was this the quirky five-year-old that tugged on my at the bottom of my vest until I picked her up, after coming home from work each night?' My hand momentarily stroked the chestnut waves that came from the head that timidly rested on my shoulder. "Are you ready?" I whispered, not feeling ready myself. "Yeah." She whispered back. She held my arm as I walked her down the isle, the whole time her head still resting on my shoulder.

We walked into Rachel House. I felt a bit more relaxed, knowing people wouldn’t judge us in a place where couples like us came in every day. Jules’ hand suddenly let go of mine. “What is it?” I asked. She didn’t answer. “Jules?” A man I had never seen before came up to us. “Hello Jules.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your father?”
“What?” I swear my heart stopped beating. “Buck this is my dad. Dad, this is my boyfriend.” She was scared and that wasn’t a good sign. “Yes, the son-of-a-b---- that got my daughter pregnant.”
“Dad!”
“No, I deserved that.”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Jules, this ends right now, do you hear me?! Right now! You’re getting rid of it as soon as possible.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Sir, can I attempt to change your mind? That would crush her, you don’t understa-”
“No. You don’t understand! I am her father and I will make these decisions and you will both do what I say without question, is that understood?!”
I took a deep breath.
“No.”
“What?”
“I said no. You can’t make her kill her baby.”
“Why not?!”
“Cause I’m stronger than you. And if I must physically protect my girlfriend from her own father, so be it.” My heart was beating furiously. I hadn’t expected to lash out like I did. No one said anything.
Then,
"Dad, I think we should talk about this later." Jules didn’t like people getting hurt. Physically or emotionally.
"All right. Dinner. Tomorrow. I want to meet Buck's parents."
"Okay. But you already know them." Her voice shook.
"I do?"
"Yeah. Eugene and Katrina Meltsner."
"What?" He went pale. "Since when did they have children?"
"I'm adopted." I mumbled, trying not to smile at my new position in the family. It was difficult to say that sentence with a fair amount of casualty without getting excited. "Hm. Fine. We'll discuss it then. Goodbye Jules."
"Bye Dad." Mr. Kendall walked out. I looked around to see if anyone was watching us. One person was. My stomach lurched. She left. "Jules."
"Yeah?" Her voice still held an intense hint of anxiety. "Mrs. Parker is here."
"What?! Did she see us?!"
"Yeah. I think so." I swallowed hard. "She didn't know. Did she?" I asked, feeling the unwelcome first signs of a panic attack.
"I don't know. Let's go."
"Where?"
"After her. She has to know at some point."
"Yeah. Yeah okay." I wasn't sure why but the shame of the situation was somehow heavier than it had been before, even with Katrina. Something about me and Eva Parker's relationship told me she would be really disappointed in my failure.

“Stop! Please! Just stop!” I tried to scream, but I couldn’t hear myself. Nothing came out. I was being hit. Over and over again. I couldn’t see, but it hurt. My head pounded from the continual beating. I just wanted it to stop. When I thought I wouldn’t be able to take any more, the knife dug into my hand. I screamed out in pain. This time I heard myself. With a trembling breath, I was awake.
I sat up, shaking, out of breath, and wet with tears. With vibrating hands, I reached for the damp cloth that was sitting on my nightstand. I held it up to my head, hoping to soak up some perspiration. That’s when I started crying again. I’m not sure why. It’s fuzzy now. I guess everything just hit me at once. I hadn’t been crying for very long when my door opened, and Katrina rushed in.
“Buck! Buck, are you alright?” She asked, gripping my shoulder.
“W-where. Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Skint! He was here!” I gasped for breath.
“Buck- “
“He was here! He stabbed my hand!” I sobbed, showing her my scarred, but not recently cut palm.
“Buck. Buck listen to me. You’re safe. Mr. Skint isn’t here. That happened years ago. You’re all right!”
“But it still hurts! My hand hurts!”
“Let me see,” she sighed, taking my hand in hers. “See. Buck look at it. There’s a little scar but nothing else. It was just a dream.” She was right. I knew she was right. But I felt like she was wrong. I buried my face in Katrina’s shoulder, then was attacked by a new round of confusing sobs. As Katrina stroked my hair, she whispered through a mournful voice, “You’re safe. You’re safe. Hey, Eugene and I need to talk to you tomorrow.”