“Fuck! Sara, I’m freaking the **** out. I don’t know where she is,” I scream at my mom’s boss as she tends the bar.

“It’s not my problem, kid. She missed her shift, she’s out of a job, I gave her chance after chance. She’s not my employee anymore,” she replies, smiling flirtatiously at a creepy ancient guy in a trench coat as she serves his drink. He glances over to me and then slides closer, raising his eyebrows.

“Looking for someone, sweetheart?” he asks. I choose to ignore him, jumping off my stool and grabbing my jacket. Before I can leave, I’m stopped by the fucking ghoul again, his trench coat elongating his lanky figure. “It’s not nice to walk away when someone is talking to you, babe.”

“I’m not your babe,” I hiss, pushing him aside from the door. I feel long fingers clasp around my wrist and yank me back into his chest. His moldy alcohol-reeking breath hits my neck and fills my nose.

Just as he’s about to say something else, sucking in a shallow breath, a voice hisses behind us, "I suggest you take your hands off her, otherwise I'll have you in handcuffs for assault." I whip my head around to find my best friend, mentor, and ultimately the most amazing person in my life: officer Chris Roland. His eyes pierce into the disgusting man beside me, and eventually he releases his grip, backing away once he see Roland in uniform. "You're always in trouble, huh?"

"It's because I am trouble. Trouble follows trouble," I state back with a grateful smile though. "What are you doing in here?"

"What do people do at a bar? Drink? It's been a long day. The question is, what are you doing here, Cade?"

"Looking for my mom," I reply, sighing.

"She's missing again? How long?" he questions, just like the cop he is. I chuckle and shake my head.

"Roland, I don't need you to get involved, again. She's probably passed out somewhere. She'll be fine. I just want to find her really. But you don't need to help," I tell him.

"I don't need to help, but I want to," he retorts, turning around towards the door and dragging me out with him. "Maybe she's already back at your house. Let's go there first." I sigh, and just accept his help, secretly incredibly grateful to have someone who cares. I love my mom, but she's going through a lot of shit, she has been for a while. It means that she can't be there for me, that she can't be the mother she and I hoped she would be without my father here. He just walked out on us, and I haven't heard from him in eight years. I'm glad, he's a waste anyway. Roland is more of a father to me than he ever was or could ever be. But sometimes I do wonder what he is doing. If he has a reason for leaving us, for leaving me.

I hop into the squad car and strap in, once Roland gives me the glare to do so.

"I told you that you should stay with me, especially if we don't find her tonight. You're not staying there alone, even if you didn't live in a rough neighborhood," he lectures. The stern look in his eyes warns me not to argue, but I do so anyway, for no reason except it takes my mind off imagining where my mother is.

"But if we don't find her tonight, someone should be at home for her," I advocate.

"She'll be fine if she comes back home. She doesn't need you there."

"What if she gets worried that I'm not there?"

"When does she ever?" he blurts out, and then glances over to me guiltily before averting his eyes back to the road. "I don't mean it like that. I just mean that if she's coming home, it's gonna be drunk or high or both. It's not like she's even gonna make it up the stairs, let alone worry about you."

"You're right," I mutter, resting my head against the car door.

"Cade, you'll stay the night with me, either way. If we do find your mom-"

"If we find her, I have to look after her," I interrupt, giving him a sharp glare.

"Then I'll help you. I'll stay over at yours. Only if we find her though." I nod in agreement and face back to the road, hoping that she'll be home when we get there.

After searching for a couple hours, Roland convinces me that it's too late and too dark to even see her if we pass her, so w4e head back to his apartment.

Unlocking his door, he leads me in to the familiar living room, and sits on the couch, bouncing slightly from the spring. I settle beside him as he switches the TV on and scrolls through Netflix shows.

"I'm sorry, Cade. She'll turn up. She always does," he says, hugging my waist into him and allowing me to rest my head against his chest. "We'll look again first thing in the morning."

"Thank you," I murmur, feeling my eyes close as sleep overtakes me.

When the sun rays hit my face, it forces me awake, my eyes adjusting to the difference of light. I find myself in the spare bedroom, on the comfy bed, snug under the covers. Roland must have brought me in here last night. As much as I protest to staying here, it is quite an upgrade from my own house. This spare room is better than my bedroom at home. The springs aren't flying out the mattress, the shutters actually close fully, the windows aren't duct taped up to stop robbers entering. Roland took spare clothes of mine from my house a while ago, just in case, for these times. I'm practically moved in here, a perfect en suite from the room with a collection of toiletries. All he needs is for me to actually be here.

Some might say his generosity is a way to get into my pants, but he's nothing like that. At all. We met five years ago, when he had arrested my mother for getting drunk and punching him in stupidity. She spent a night in the cell and I refused to leave the station. She was all I had. Roland stayed with me, telling me if I was staying, he was going to stay too. I was just eleven years old, and he stayed with me without complaint. Ever since then, we got closer, him checking up on me at the house, and taking me to school most days. Most days turned into everyday, and he would pick me up too.

There was one time where I was out for a run with him, and we'd run farther than before. I started to lose a lot of breath, my pants shallow and fast and I couldn't catch my breath. He rushed me to the hospital and I found out that I had asthma due to secondhand smoking. Thankfully, Roland paid for an asthma pump and medical bill. He's been my savior. So when he asks for me to do something, like stay with him, or to not hang out with someone at school, or to go somewhere with him, I eventually comply. He knows that, although I tend to protest all of it, it's just my nature. But I know he wants what's best for me.

"Let's go," he declares as he enters my room. I shower and change into new clothes before heading out back to my house with Roland. I hope my mom is alright. She does this a lot, but that doesn't make me worry any less. Something can always change, something can always happen to her.

As we pull up to the house, I notice the front door left wide open. I know we shut it when we left. She might be back, or we might have gotten robbed. I race out of the car and into the house, leaving Roland to follow behind me.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

"What?" Roland questions as he wraps his arms around me to protect me. And his eyes widen when he sees what I see. I try to escape his arms but they tighten around me, knowing that I should have time to let this settle. He pushes me behind him and stalks over to the couch, where my mom lays, sprawled out.

Her skin, washed out white, the temperature tinting it blue. Her eyes, rolled into her head, blank white no longer colored with little red capillaries. Her body, lax, flopping all over the place, spilling off the couch and onto the floor. The pills are spread over the coffee table.

My lower lip trembles as I watch the sight in horror, tears unknowingly flooding my face. I don't even notice when they first fall, but they are now flowing like two streams down my face and off my jaw to the floor.

Roland looks back to me, a solemn and shocked look all over his face.

"I'm sorry, Cade. I'm so sorry. She's... dead."

She’s dead...

As those words pass his lips, I fall to the floor, my gaze fixed on her lifeless corpse, so empty, so alone. I wasn't here when she got back. I could have helped her. I could have stopped this. She wouldn't be dead. That's all my fault.

I crawl up into myself on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest and rocking myself to soothe the ache in every part of my body. I want to throw up, but I can't even move to do that. I hear the sirens, and I still can't move. She's left me. She left me too. Why would she? Did she want to go? Did she want to leave? Just like my dad, and my twin brother. He left me too. He ran away, wanting something else, something better, his dad back. He knew I wouldn't leave mom, so he left on his own. My twin brother.

"Cade," I hear Roland call out, but I can't move, I can't. She... Why? I want my mom. I want her here. She can't be dead. I... I can't breathe. I can't think. I just want it all to stop. I just want people to stop leaving me. I just want a normal life, a happy life where people care about me and people don't leave.

I feel myself being lifted from the ground and I snuggle into his chest, hiding my face in his shirt.

"I need to take you to the station. I'm sorry, Cade. You'll be okay. I'm right here. I'll take care of you." I don't reply. I don't do anything. I just let him move me, into a car, I think and soon enough, we find our way to the station.

I hear the bustling around us, the loud shouts of drunkards, the chuckles of officers to one another in conversations, the footsteps plodding against the floor.

"Cade, I called DCFS. They're sending someone over here." My eyes widen at his words when he sets me down in a chair and he senses my alarm, kneeling down and grabbing my hands. "It's protocol. But I want to take you in. I'm going to file for the adoption of you, but that's going to take time. I know this is a lot to handle right now, but you need somewhere to stay, and you deserve to know what's going on. I love you as if you were my own daughter, you know that." I squeeze his hands tightly so he doesn't let go and he just waits, patiently, holding my hands, supporting me, comforting me by just being there. He doesn't need to say anything, I just need someone who cares. He's the last one left. I'm grateful for him.

"Officer Roland?" a small woman asks, a kind sympathetic smile sent towards me as she takes a seat in front of me. Roland doesn't let go of my hands, keeping me close to him. "You must be Cadence," she says, looking straight at me with sad eyes.

"It's Cade," I mutter.

"Sorry, Cade. I'm very sorry for your loss. I always hate talking to children who have lost their guardians so soon. But, we have to sort out a place for you to stay tonight. It is to my understanding that Officer Roland, here, is filing for adoption of you. In the meantime, we're contacting your father."

"My father?" I question, furrowing my brows in confusion.

"Yes, we have contact information for him. We're getting a hold of him now. For adoption, your father would have to give away parental rights."

"Did he not give that away when he walked out? If he won't do that, it would be harder for Roland to adopt me?"

"Well, yes, it would. I don't see why he wouldn't, that's if we can contact him. If we can't, then his parental rights have been terminated. If we can, and he chooses he doesn't want to sign his rights away, he would be responsible for you. Of course, you can take him to court if you don't want to stay with him. But it would take a long time and we would place you in foster care."

"So it's better if you can't contact him?"

"Yes, if you want Officer Roland to adopt you," she replies.

"I do," I say quickly, sounding a little worried and agitated. It's been the worst fucking day and she's telling me that my estranged dickhead of a father could stop my life from getting better. She nods in understanding and leaves with Roland to discuss something.

I bring my legs up on the chair and rest my cheek against my knees, falling asleep from the sheer energy all of this has taken from me. My mom is dead. My brother is missing. My father could stop me from having a good life with a man who has actually been there for me, who actually cares. He wants to adopt me, he said it himself. He'll fight for me.

In the daze of mellow sleep, I listen to Roland's voice on the phone with someone.

"I understand that, but she's happy here... She doesn't want to move, she doesn't even know you. You can't be selfish... I'm thinking about her... She may not be my daughter by blood but I care about her more than you ever have, clearly... Please, you have to..." He throws the phone to the ground and harshly takes a seat on the chair as I open my eyes. "Did you hear that?"

"Who was that?" I ask.

"Your father," he states.

"They got a hold of him? What did he say?" I question.

"You heard it. You already know. But he said that he wouldn't give away his parental rights. He wants you to go live with him in Michigan."

"That's another state. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you," I exclaim, shooting out of my chair out of rage. I can't stand this. All of this. My mom just died and now everyone is telling me my entire life has to change. They're telling me a man I haven't seen in eight years has complete control over me, that I have to move away if that's what he wants. I can't take this.

"Cade, I'm fighting for you. But I found out your father actually has money, and a family. He can provide for you," Roland explains.

"So what?" I begin to yell. "So that means you don't want to fight anymore. I don't care about that stuff. He doesn't care about me. It's just about... Well I don't even know what the **** it's about."

"Language," he scolds almost silently, knowing that I deserve to swear in my rage. But he says it anyway, like a good responsible guardian would. He cares, even about the smallest things. He would support me. I want to stay with him. "Cade, it's not that. He has money, he can get lawyers, he can make it seem like he can provide better for you than me. I don't know why he's doing this, maybe to save face or reach out-"

"Reach out now that he's remembered I exist, I guess. Too busy with a new family."

"I don't know what to say. I'll fight if you want me to fight. But whilst I'm fighting, you'll be stuck in foster care, and I won't be able to see you. I don't want that to happen to you."

"I'll talk to him then. I tell him I want to stay here."

"He seemed pretty adamant that there is no way he'll give up rights. Cade, if he won't, I want you to go live with him," he states.

"What?!" I cry, my mouth gaping at him. "Why would you say that? You don't want to fight!"

"You know I love you. I want to fight for you, but I need to think about what's best for you, even if you don't like it. I'll fight to the end, but if we don't win, you'll end up with him, and in foster care during court dates for nothing. I'm a cop, I don't have the money to afford the lawyers he can. The courts will see that, that if I win, I won't have the money to support you. I just want you to be safe and healthy, Cade."

"I don't want to lose you," I say, falling into his arms for a hug. He squeezes me tightly and doesn't let me go.

"You won't lose me, not ever. If you do go, I'll call you every day. If he does anything to hurt you, I'll be there immediately. On birthdays and thanksgiving and Christmas, I'll be there. You can call me with any problems, at any time. And when you're 18 and your dad no longer has a say and you want to come back here, you can live with me." He pulls away from me and hands me the phone that he picked up from the ground, the screen a little cracked. "His number is the last one on there. Call him."

"Is this Michael Andrews?" I ask as the ringing stops.

"Yes? This is..." he trails off, searching for an answer.

"Your biological daughter," I snark a little bitterly, although rightly so. I reserve every right to tell him to **** off. He left me, with my troubled mom. Just my twin brother and I to pick her up. And he left too.

"Oh, um... how are you?" he says awkwardly.

"How am I?" I try to keep my tone even, not conveying my rage, but his question is so fucking ridiculous. How am I? How the **** do you think I am? My mom just died and he wants to take me away from the only other person who cares about me. "I'm not doing so well. I want to stay here, and they're telling me I have to stay with you."

"Yes, you do. I'm not giving up my parental rights of you. Your mother is gone, you're my responsibility, not some stranger."

"He's not a stranger. Why can't you let him adopt me? I want to stay with him. I have two years before I'm eighteen, it's not long. I have a life here."

"But you'll have a better life here, I'm sure of that. And you can't change my mind about it."

"What gives you the right to decide my life? You are no type of father to me," I exclaim.

"You're coming to live with me, there's no doubt about that," he states firmly. "I own a boarding school here in Michigan. It's for boys but I have a place for you. You'll attend this school and graduate in two years. You'll have a very good education."

"I don't care about that," I snap.

"You don't have a choice. I've booked you on the next flight out here. I'll pick you up at the airport and get you settled in. You'll like it here, Cadence. I'll see you soon." He ends the call abruptly before I can say anything else. Now I know why Roland was so frustrated. This man is infuriating. I wouldn't even care if he just said that he didn't want me, that he didn't care, that he didn't see me like a daughter. It may hurt me a little, just to hear those words, but he would give away his parental rights, not having any connection to me. He doesn't see me like a daughter and I don't see him like a father. But why can't he just be like that? Instead of this? If he wanted me, why didn't he stay before? All he has over me are parental rights, and that's all he needs to control me. He's taking me away from Roland. And there's nothing I can do. I could ask Roland to fight, but it takes money, and he's only a cop. I love him, I don't want him to spend hundreds of dollars on lawyers. And he's right, he might not win anyway, and it would be for nothing. He told me he would call every day, that he would come visit for holidays and birthdays and would answer my calls. He said I could come back when I'm eighteen, that I could live with him and he'd always be there.

"You okay?" I give Roland a sharp look and he sighs. "Sorry, very stupid question."

"He's an asshole. The first conversation he has with his daughter in eight years and he's bossing me around. He's such a fucking-"

"Asshole. I know. Watch your language, Cade," he scolds once again and I huff.

"That's another thing. He calls me Cadence. He doesn't know me. He doesn't even know what I like to be called. He knows nothing about me, how can I go live with him? He's a stranger."

"You'll still have me, Cade. You know that. You don't have to be patient with him. I know I shouldn't be advising this, but I wouldn't cut your father any slack. I agree, he is an asshole."

"I have your permission to act out?" I ask with a small cunning smirk.

"That's not what I'm saying. I just don't think you need to be civil is all. Don't do anything crazy, Cade. I know how you can get," he tells me with a stern look on his face. I shrug, keeping the smirk on my face. He's right, why be civil with my father? He left me, he didn't care. He still doesn't. He wants to ruin my life, take me away from Roland.

"What's this boys school he was talking about?" I ask. He searches it up and turns the computer to face me.

"Some posh boarding school for boys. It has a sister school, but he probably couldn't get a place for you there. I'm not sure it's wise to put you in an all boys school," he says, shaking his head as he knows how I can be. "Blonde hair, big blue eyes, at an all boys school. Hmm."

"Whatever happens happens."

"I don't like the sound of that," he comments, raising an eyebrow in disapproval. I give him another shrug which he sighs to, chuckling a little. "The school's quite away from everything. It takes a half hour drive to get into the closest town. I doubt you'll have a car, so, you'll be stuck at the school."

"Where's the sister school? Is that an all girls school?"

"Yep and it's a twenty-minute walk from the boys school."

"Sounds so fun," I say sarcastically. But me in an all boys school, that could be interesting.

Soon enough, I'm packing some clothes from my house, and some things from Roland's apartment, and heading to the airport. I can't believe I'm leaving to live with my estranged father and attend his all boys boarding school for rick pricks. He's the principal of it, which means he doesn't stay on sight. He has a house not far from it, living with a new family, his family. And he forgot about me for all these years, his own daughter.

Once we get to the airport, Roland holds my shoulders, his eyes tearing up as if a proud parent sending me off to college.

"Every day, I'll call. Call me when you land tomorrow and then I'll call you tomorrow night as well, make sure you're settling alright. Oh, God." He pulls me into his chest and strokes my hair.

"Roland, we'll be okay. I'll be coming back soon," I tell him and he gives me a cautious look with narrowed eyes. He should be wary. I'm going to make my dad give up his parental rights, I'm going to push him that far. I want a good life, and Roland could give that to me. I'm not giving it up because of my stuck up commanding father.

I give Roland one last memorable smile and skip off, saluting him on my ways through customs. The truth is, I'm scared. I won't know anything or anyone in Michigan. And I'm still morning the loss of my mom, even though she really died a few years ago. I'll be thrown into the deep end. I know Roland is a call away, but he won't be there, with me. He won't be in the flesh. And I can't bother him all the time. I'm strong, I'll get through it. Tough facades are my defense. My father will have a hard time breaking through them. And what he would see, he won't like. I'm damaged, badly damaged. Roland was my saving grace, but my father is forcing me away from him.

He hasn't seen me since I was eight years old, I look fairly different, being sixteen now. I have golden long cascading hair paired with baby blue eyes. My small nose goes with my small body, small hands and feet and ears. I definitely dress different to my eight year old self, now wearing light blue jean shorts, black healed ankle boots and burgundy crop top. I threw on a khaki bomber jacket over that for the temperature of the plane, the known cold breeze felt at high altitudes on a plane.

My attitude is incredibly different, with my snarky comments and the heavy cursing. I can't help it, swearing is a way of expressing my anger at life. I think I have every right to use it, even though Roland doesn't like me using it. I'm also quite insane. I know how to have fun and to irritate and clearly how to drive people away. I should be able to drive away my father in no time. He'll give up his parental rights and then I'll get to live with Roland.

I board the plane with my sunglasses and baseball cap in hand. No more sun, not in Michigan. They have cloudier skies and more rain. Finding my seat, I settle in by the window, staring out at other planes taking off. I've never left the state before, and I'm slightly... terrified of flying, but I won't let alone know that. All first time flyers have some fear.

"Hello," a male voice greets as he takes his seat next to me. He's slightly older than me, a college cap on his head and a smirk adorning his handsome face.

"Hi," I greet back with a flirtatious smile.