It’s very, very quiet in the car. And the not talking isn’t a big deal so much as the no music playing. Daddy loves to play music in the car. But something bad just happened.
And I don’t understand what, but I’m not about to ask. Not now.
Daddy hit Mummy, so hard that he knocked her out. He told me after he put her in the passenger seat that he had to so he could get her out safely, because she wouldn’t have come otherwise.
Then he told me to get in the car, twice, because I wasn’t moving quickly enough, and we had to go – the Slayer and Angeles were back inside our home, fighting,
and I think Daddy thought the Slayer would win and kill us. I don’t know, I don’t really know anything, except that we’re out of Sunnydale and driving faster and faster away.
I don’t have any of my things, except for my favorite doll Rosalie. She’s soft, not like Mummy’s dolls, and I hold her tight next to me and watch Daddy from the side.
I can’t see Mummy because he has her pulled into him. She still hasn’t woken up. It’s been a long time, I think, but she still hasn’t woken up.
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