Chapter 25

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Mornings are meant to be beautiful. I've always thought this. A release from the darkness; the beginning of a new day. However, in the summer months, this becomes almost impossible.

Because everything is so. freaking. hot.

I woke up because of the heat. It was the middle of August. My body was sick of being underneath the pile of blankets it takes for me to feel comfortable and safe, and so my eyes shot open at a quarter to one. My stomach grumbled. I grumbled, too.

I dragged myself to the kitchen and started eating a slice of cold pizza. "Brunch," I said, raising it in the air as I plopped onto the ground. "We're posh now." I took a bite.

"What do you want to do today?" I asked Salt, whom was curled up on the carpet next to me. She stared at me with her big green eyes. "I agree," I said. "Paint."

I dug out my canvases and watercolors and opened all the windows, thankful for the breeze that swept through the room. I took out some records, too, choosing 'Revolver' as my first album to sing to while I painted.

The hours passed and I continued on, switching albums whenever they ended. Salt roamed around and stared at my brush sometimes, becoming mesmerized every so often as she walked by. At 3 o clock she got very excited, however, as Jimmy walked in out of the blue.

She meowed quite loudly and sprinted to the door, tail wagging like a dog. "Hey Salt!" cried Jimmy, getting down to his knees in his fancy suit to pet her black fluff. He looked over at me and smiled. "Hey pretty lady."

"Hey yourself," I said, shooting him a grin before continuing with my art. He walked over to see what I was doing and Salt followed at his heels, still mewing up a storm.

"....snow?"

I glanced up. "Mm-hmm."

He smirked. "You really hate this heat, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." I swirled the brush around in the water, watching it turn more white.

"Is that why you never leave the building anymore?"

I blinked. No. That's not why. I painted a carrot nose onto the snowman in the forefront of the painting.

"Tasha."

I gave him a frown made of coal.

"Natasha?"

I dropped the brush onto one of the newspapers and looked up. He was bearing into me with his chocolate eyes, having just said my name - my actual name - in a soft, somber voice. He reached out and gently held my face in his hands. "You don't need to lock yourself away from the world because of what happened."

A lump hit my throat. He wiped the single tear that fell with his thumb. "You really don't need to."

"Yes I do," I choked out.

"No, you don't," he said while my eyes formed more tears. "Do you know why?"

"Why?" I asked, waiting for what I expected him to say - 'you're an adult', 'it was two months ago', 'it's all in your head'.

"Because I will protect you from anything and anybody that ever tries to hurt you." My eyes widened. "You don't have to worry about anything, okay? I love you so much. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. Ever." He gently took his hands off of my face, and I instantly reached for them.

"You really mean that?"

"I really do," he chuckled. "Come on. Let's go somewhere - anywhere you want."

I sighed. "I don't know if I'm ready. Plus, what if the press sees us?"

"You are ready," he said. " And they won't - we can be sneaky."

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