"Alright. Eat something first, then I'll take you to her," Kyle whispered, gently rubbing her cheeks. Admiring her face and her eyes, he had been waiting so long for her.

"...." She didn't utter a word and just stared at her hands, fiddling with her fingers.

"Come on." Kyle gently tucked her in the bed and went to bring her something good to eat. He'd never even asked her what she liked to eat. How stupid.

"We need to call those doctors and the police," Esyn said, entering the kitchen and placing an empty tray in the sink. Kyle looked at her, knowing where she had gone.

"Esyn, you know that..." Before he could scold her, she interrupted him.

"I know I'm not allowed to go down there, but my husband was hungry, and I missed him." She muttered the last words under her breath. Kyle sighed, knowing that Esyn was the least of his worries.

She did this every time she hadn't seen Derion for a day or two, but this time she held out longer. He was grateful to have a sister like her in his life—and he should be.

"I'll make something quick for Ashlee. Go and get some rest now. And don't tell Mom you went there." Kyle grabbed her shoulders, gently steering her out of the kitchen while she gathered ingredients to make food for Ashlee.

"Sometimes you are likable," Esyn smirked, leaving him alone to do as he pleased.

Heather watched as he prepared food for Ashlee. He used to cook for her before, but now that Ashlee had entered their home, Heather felt like she was losing him.

"I smell jealousy," Diana sang, walking around the corner of the hallway.

"Shut the hell up, Diana!" Heather growled and rushed to her room. Maybe she hadn't learned her lesson yet.

Kyle took the food and a glass of fresh juice to Ashlee in his room. Turning on a dim light, he placed the tray on the bedside table. Ashlee didn't hear him enter; silent sobs escaped her lips as she clutched the sheets.

"Shh... It's gonna be okay." Kyle gently stroked her back, trying to soothe her.

Without realizing it, she turned and clung to his torso, sobbing into his shirt. She started to take shallow, trembling breaths. He continued to rub her back, patting her head. Watching her so broken stirred something deep within him.

"I'm sorry. I... I couldn't save you, Mom. I'm really sorry." She sobbed, burying her face in him.

Kyle was stunned to hear her feeling guilty for her mother's death. He wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, but he didn't know how.

"It wasn't your fault," he whispered, stroking her head.

She slowly looked up, her swollen, red-puffy eyes meeting his. Biting her lip, she realized he was there for her—he had always been there when she was hurting.

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"I killed her," she whispered with a stony expression. She wasn't lying, and she wanted him to see that truth.

FEW DAYS EARLIER...

Ashlee entered the house. The dim lights in the living room cast a soft glow over everything. Suddenly, she heard noises coming from her mother's room. Leaving the dog in the living room with her backpack, she grabbed a knife and rushed to her mother's room.

Swallowing hard, she clutched the doorknob and heard her uncle yelling at her mother, "You both bitches!!" He snarled, followed by a loud thumping sound.

She knew he had slapped her mother, who screamed as she hit the floor. Without a second thought, Ashlee opened the door and saw him strangling her mother.

Gripping the knife tightly, she moved silently toward him. Out of the corner of her eye, Ashlee's mother, Kristine, saw her approaching with the knife.

Kristine, horrified, shouted, "Ashlee!!" Ashlee was on her way to stab her uncle.

Her uncle jerked away from her mother, causing Ashlee to accidentally stab Kristine in the shoulder. Panicking, Ashlee quickly pulled the knife out—a move that made things worse.

Speechless, Ashlee tried to stop the bleeding with a jacket, pressing it against her mother's wound.

"I... I'm sorry, Mom. I... I didn't mean to. Please... Please stay with me." She whimpered, a mix of guilt and terror coursing through her.

Her mind raced, fixated on getting her mother to a hospital. She had completely forgotten about her uncle, who still lurked in the room.

Ricardo, now alert, grabbed the knife Ashlee had discarded. He smirked at the weapon and then at Ashlee and Kristine. He was ready to take down two birds with one stone.

"Get aside, you slutty brat!" he snarled, shoving Ashlee away from Kristine and throwing her to the floor. He lunged at Kristine, stabbing her in the stomach and twisting the knife mercilessly.

Ashlee could only watch in horror as her mother's life drained away before her.

"No... No... No..." she whispered. But Kristine's soul had already left her body, leaving Ashlee in the depths of despair.

Ricardo turned, grinning cruelly as he stabbed Ashlee in the lower abdomen. Ashlee stared at him, pain wracking her body, but nothing hurt more than the loss of her mother.

Her mind replayed her mother's dying gaze, her final smile filled with love. It was all too fast, too brutal.

Ricardo sneered, "See? This is why I told you to behave." He clicked his tongue. "I forgave you when I heard you had a boy over. But now you've crossed the line. You must be sleeping around with that young-looking teacher of yours." His smirk disappeared as he grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him.

"I haven't even touched you properly. How could you go around with other men?" He snarled, digging his fingers into her wound, making her scream.

"I'm going to show you what a real whore you are," he growled, pressing harder as she tried to fight back. But eventually, she succumbed to the pain, unable to resist any longer.

Out of nowhere, a massive wolf lunged at her uncle, tearing him away from her. She caught a glimpse of the creature, hearing its voice faintly in her mind. Slowly, the shouting faded, and darkness overtook her.

PRESENTLY, A FEW HOURS AGO...

Ashlee awoke to the unfamiliar smell of antiseptics and the soft beeping of machines. The bed beneath her was far more comfortable than usual. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the brightness.

This wasn't her room. The room was far more luxurious and larger than her own. Then, the memory of stabbing her mother flashed through her mind, accompanied by a sudden, intense headache.

She remembered it all—the knife, her uncle, her mother's dying gaze, her last breath.

"I killed her," she whispered, a heavy sob rising in her chest. She sat up, pulling the needles from her arm.

Planting her feet on the ground, she stumbled toward an open door that appeared to lead to a bathroom. She staggered inside and closed the door behind her.

"I should die, too..." she muttered, filling the tub with scalding water and slipping into it.

"Ashlee!" she heard a distant, familiar voice calling out to her, but she didn't care. She lay in the water, numb to the burning pain.

The door flew open, and someone pulled her out of the tub. She coughed and, without realizing it, clung to the person. In their arms, she finally let out all her grief and pain, her cries echoing through the room.