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Abigail closed the little red book with a snap. The sound echoed in the room and for a moment Abby thought she would hear her mom walking down the hall to see what was the matter. She had to remind herself that her mom was dead and no one would be walking down the lushly appointed hall to inquire about Abbie's welfare, except for maybe the housekeeper.

She sighed as she got up from her white princess desk and slipped the slim volume onto the build in bookcase that was centered between the two walk in closets. Abby knew her dad was doing his best to make this transition period easier but he just didn't understand that she would rather be at home. In her small cozy room, with the smell of cookies filling the flat along with the strains of Chopin. The library stuffed with books of all the great plays and her mom's dance studio facing the park. Instead she was in this rather large house, given a very girly room that faced the gardens, and a house full of staff to keep an eye on her.

She would be her mother's little lady and not cry even if she could feel the tears welling up like now. Trying to hold back the sadness and the inevitable tears she used the bed post to do some simple ballet stretches. Dance would help calm her, help center her, and keep her mind off of the changes that she just couldn't prevent no mater how hard she tried.

Abby slammed the slim journal closed and looked up. The window right in front of her showed the dark yard, the house lights illumination fading long before they reach the fence around the house. The fairy clock on the wall indicated that it was way past her bedtime but Abby didn't care, she wanted a glass of water.

Moving as quietly as she knew how she made it into the kitchen and quickly drew a glass of water. With the glass in hand she began to head back to her room, passing silently through the halls. She wasn't the only one awake, the study's door was cracked and golden light slashed through the dark hall like a sword of light. The c***k of glass on glass and the murmur of male voices told Abby that her father and great uncle were having a 'nightcap' or rather her uncle was. She stopped in surprise when she heard her father's slurs words... It seems he was the one drinking and likely had more than too many

"I just don't know whats to do any more, uncle. She hates me... She hates thisshity.... This lifes... Even I hates me.... "

Abby's quiet gasp of surprise was masked by the sound of more poring and her uncle's rumbling voice, he was speaking too quietly for her to make it out. They were talking about her, she just knew it.

"Is don't know why. It could've been anyshing. What's do I care. Not like I'll haves to deal withe her after shool ends."

didn't have to deal with me? Abby began to tremble slightly. Even though she hated this new life and she disliked her father from taking from England that didn't mean that she wanted her father to get rid of her. If he did then she really would be alone in the world. Her mother was dead and her father hated her.... And while she was thinking the conversation had continued without her, she focused once more picking up her father's slurred words obviously answering her uncles question.

"Shes can go to..." He paused as his inebriated mind tried to think of the farthest place possible. "Sha moon foes all I care. Ant nevers want to she that switch again."

Abby felt as if her heart was breaking. He hated her! There was no mistaking it. The glass slipped from her numb fingers to shatter on the wood floor spraying glass shards across the hall.

The sound broke Abby from her shock. She spun around and raced back to the kitchen, not even aware of the bloody footprints left behind her. It took her just a moment of fumbling before the back door was opened and the cool spring breeze tugged on her nightgown.

Blinded by her tears, Abby tore out of the house like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heals. The damp grass cushioning her bare feet as she ran, uncaring, into the night.

Abby snuggled deeper into her bed, the pillows cradling her head while Sherlock stretched out beside her. Her room was shadowy, only a dim night light provided minimal illumination. One would think that someone who knew that things really do go bump in the night would be afraid of the dark but Abby wasn’t. It was hard to be when there was a huge dog currently snoring beside you, she didn’t want to admit to herself that it was more about the thoughts going through her head then about the dog next to her. With a huff the young girl sat up and gave the Alaskan Malamute/German Shepard mix a shake but when the dog only shifted slightly, still snoring, she climbed out of bed, her barefeet sinking into the plush carpet that surrounded her bed.

The carpet stopped abruptly, changing to hardwood flooring as the young woman made her way across her immaculate room towards her door. Her bare feet making very little sound as she drifted across her room, it couldn't even be heard over the dog snores. Slipping into the hall, Abby left her door fracked just incase Sherlock woke up before she got back. Like her room the hall was rather sparse but what there was, was in its place. Photos covered most of the walls and carpet runners helped muffle what little sound her passage made. Her progress took her down the stairs and towards the back of the house where her father’s study was. There he would be able to enjoy the backyard via the wide expanse of windows that overlooked the fenced in green space and grade his students papers, create tests, and even work on screenplays.

As she approached the closed door she could see the glow of the study’s lights trickling out from around the door jam, her dad was still awake… She knew he would be. He normally stayed up to do school work in the quiet of the night. She knocked quietly and only entered when he gave permission, the space was his after all, it was the polite thing to do. Even after watching the room be transformed from an empty space to the study it was now Abby had to pause to take in the space. It was the quintessential study; dark wood accents, forest green wall paint, books and mementos displayed in the built in bookcases, there was even a fireplace although no fire was currently burning, a collection of chairs and a small couch added a touch of relaxation along with the expansive desk that faced the windows. It was a cozy place to do your work and her father was sitting there on the small comfy couch reading a book. He glanced up and held his hand out towards her, “what's going on baby girl. You should be in bed.”

“Sherlock was snoring.” She shrugged and joined him on the couch, leaning against him. “What are you reading?”

“Ah. That would keep me awake too.” David Miller smiled at his daughter and as she snuggles into him he pulled her closer. She was his whole world and he loved these rare times when she acted like the child she still was in his eyes. “This? Just something for class. We are working on classic literature and how it affected the structure of plays.” He looked down at the young girl at his side and tapped her on the nose, “ now what did you really come down here for?”

Abby smiled up at her dad, wrinkling her nose at him. “Can't I just sit here with you?”

“When you have a fluffy bed upstairs? Nope. Spill you little suck up.” His tone was affectionate and full of teasing. Neither of the Millers took his ‘insults’ as such.

Rolling her eyes at him, Abby sighed. “Fine, fine, I wanted to hear a story. One of epic proportions. Like you use to tell me.” Back when mom was alive. That last part was left out but it was still clear to them both. David studied his daughter’s face for a moment, seeing more of her mother every day, and nodded in ascent. He remained quiet for a bit before he began to weave his tail.

“Like all good tales mine begins the same way, once upon a time in a land far far away there lived a storyteller who could weave the most fantastical tales. All who listened swore the could see the characters spring forth fully formed as the teller created his stories. His audience were enthralled and one day the kingdom’s princess was one of the people who had become taco ayes by his tales.”

David continued to tell the story, his voice quieting as the young girl next to him slipped closer and closer to sleep. He finally trailed off once he noticed his daughter had fallen asleep at his side. Sadly she had grown so much in the last few years and he knew he wouldn't be able to carry her up to her bed like he could when she was younger. With a quiet tisk he gave her a gentle shake, it took a bit but finally he was able to rouse Abby enough to guide the child to bed. He tucked her in and wished her a good night, she just muttered sleepily as she snuggles into her pillow.

He paused at the door jam, his hand on the doorknob. David watched quietly as Abby settled into her bed, sleep claiming her fully. She was growing so fast, he felt a catch in his throat as the thoughts of just how much her mother would love to be there with them swamped him. Finally, with one last look he closed the door quietly. His little girl was growing up so fast and his wife wasn’t there to see it. Feeling morose, David made his way back to his study and poured himself a stiff drink. He nursed it late into the night, staring out into the deepening darkness and thinking about all the good times he and his wife had had.

With shaking fingers the young girl wiped at her eyes and closed the little diary shut with a snap, not caring about the tears soaking into the page she had just written. It had actually gotten hard to see through the tears that were flowing down her cheeks, so much so that she stumbled on the fluffy rug as she scrambled for her bed. Flopping down on the bed Abby buried her face into her pillow and started to sob as she realized just how much she had forgotten. Her mother’s voice, her hugs, her smell, the way she would laugh, the way she moved. Everything seemed to be shrouded in a veil. Indistinct and hazy.

For Abby this wasn’t good enough. She wanted to retain those memories like they were preserved in glass. This was her mother for goodness sake! There was no one more important to her except her father and Sherlock. She was a horrible daughter for letting those memories fade, for becoming compliant in this new city… for enjoying life.

Sherlock, her dog, quickly tried to show his sympathy with his girl by joining her on her bed. His large frame taking up much of the free space and he was still laying half on top of Abby, his muzzle over her back. He whimpered softly each time a particularly strong sob racked her body. He didn’t move even when Abby’s bedroom door opened and her father entered. The dog just looked on as the man crouched down by the edge of the bed and gently rested his hand on his daughter's head.

“Pumpkin? Whats wrong?” David asked gently as he did his best to comfort his daughter. He couldn’t really make out the mumbled response, only catching ‘can’t remember’. “What can’t you remember?” At her strangled answer his heart felt like it was breaking. “Oh, Abby.” He wanted to scoop his little girl up into his arms and hold her close but it just wasn’t feasible so he did the next best thing. Getting up the older man quickly sat on a free spot of the bed, easing her into his lap or at least her head which she still had buried in a pillow. “Sweetheart, thats natural. You might forget some things but you won’t forget the important stuff like how much she loved you.” David continued on in this vain, listing various things about his wife. Things like her favorite food, favorite song, and the bedtime story she loved to tell Abby. The memories bringing a catch to his own throat as his own desires to see his wife tried to swamp him. He kept it together though, he needed to be strong for his daughter. He had too.

It took a while but finally Abby’s tears had faded and the young girl slipped into exhausted sleep from her crying jag. With care David slipped her socks and shoes off before tucking her in, “Come on Sherlock.” He called for the dog softly as he went to leave, he really needed a drink. He only realized the dog had stayed by Abby’s side when he reached the bedroom door, with a shake of his head and a soft chuckle David left the pooch where he was. After all there was no real harm in the dog sleeping next to his little girl other then Abby being a bit cramped since Sherlock was a pretty big dog. David’s smile faded as he turned out the light and softly closed the door. His baby might be technically a teenager but she was still his baby girl, it hurt to see her crying… more so because he missed Sanna as well. He missed her so much.

He had told her to learn to throw. Well technically he said ‘work on your arm muscles. You don't have enough force and practice with aiming. Go into the woods and find small trees to act as people to bind and set up cans to toss the bead at like it’s someone’s face.’ The first was rather simple, she just added it into her exercise rotation. Asking her gym teacher for suggestions, when the typical question of why was asked Abby just lied and said it was for dance. Afterall there were plenty of modern moves that required a toned upper body as well, she just tended to favor a more classical style. It’s the ‘aiming’ thing she is having an issue with. She wasn’t afraid to throw a ball, its what she substituted the bead for while as a civilian, and Sherlock flat out loved it. But she found that the more she tossed it the more her aim was off. She had to be doing something wrong. Especially since she wanted to really bean that p***k of a knight in the head but her throws right now wouldn’t hit the side of a building if she aimed for it.

With a frustrated grunt the young girl tossed the ball as hard as she could, watching it sail into the back yard. The large dog streaked after it with a bark seconds later, he happily brought it back after retrieving it. Sherlock liked this game alot. Abby on the other hand did not. She had been aiming at the cardboard box she had set up in the backyard, not the fence that was a bit of a distance behind the staked down box. In frustration and annoyance the young girl just threw the ball with all her might, her anger propelling it. To her surprise and to Sherlock’s disappointment the slobbery ball soared over the fence into their neighbor’s yard. With a curse the young lady stomped her foot in anger just as her father came out the back door of their house. His brow rose in surprise at this rather ‘unlady’ like behavior from his daughter before asking, “Whats going on sweetie?”

“Daddy!” Abby gave a start and spun to face her father, a blush darkening her complexion slightly. “I was just trying to throw a ball accurately.” She indicated the box with a target drawn on it in black marker that she staked to the ground. It kept blowing away so a few metal tent stakes kept it from moving.

“Why?”

“Because some boys were saying I throw like a girl and while it is perfectly accurate I really wanted to teach them that girls can throw just as good as boys.” She had this excuse all ready since her neighbor had already asked he what was going on after retrieving the ball for the second time that day. It was a plausible reason, much more so than saying that she was training to learn to fight as a magical warrior in the middle of the night.

“Ahhh.” David nodded like he understood. Sometimes his daughter was a bit of a mystery to him and this was one of them since she never showed any care for what others thought of before. But she was growing up so this was probably just one of the many changes he was in store for. “Well if you are willing to accept help from a boy. I’ve got some time before I need to work on papers.” He crouched down and gave Sherlock a good scratch behind his ears, “What say you? Can this ‘boy’ help you out?”

Abby just rolled her eyes at her father’s antics and nodded. “I don’t think you can hit it any more then I can but sure. Lets see what you can do.”

School was going to start up soon, that meant quite a few things for the young woman, first and foremost was that tomorrow she was moving back into the dorms on campus. This also meant that dinner tonight would be the last one she had at home for a few weeks. Once school really started and she got everything under control Abby will spend the weekends at home with her father but it normally took at least two weeks if not three for that to happen. So she needed to make sure to make something special. Not take out or pizza. Something nice. Something that could be used for leftovers for a little bit. Something her dad would love.

With that in mind, and aware that there were several dishes frozen for later meals for her father, Abby took a look in the pantry. She pulled out several items before moving on to the fridge. There was a bigger challenge. What should she make? Finally she caved to both the need to actually make dinner since that time was rapidly approaching and the desire not to waste any money, hence the leftovers she pulled from the fridge. What was left of the roast chicken was easy to pull apart and shred the meat. The little bit of grilled veggie mix was added to the rest of the intended veggies, as did the potatoes. It was the heavy cream that might have raised some eyebrows.

Rather than even question her slightly strange collection she set to work. Soon there was a reddish brown sauce simmering on the stove, a sauce full of vegetables and potatoes and herbs. A savory smell was filling the kitchen but she didn’t slow down. Garlic was minced, scallions chopped, and carrots julienned. Abby was focused solely on what she was doing, only occasionally going to check on the stew like concoction that was on a low simmer, adding items as she finished preparing them. The chicken was added to the sauce and then a second pot was put on to boil.

Pasta was tossed into boiling water and before long it was done. Once she added it to the stew and the goulash was complete. It was an easy dish, and one that would hold for a while. One that her dad actually liked since he said it reminded him of his parents. Abby liked it since it reminded her of her mom. It wasn’t exactly ‘home’ food but since it was a dish that helped stretch food and money, and England wasn’t cheap on their salaries, it was something her mom made. They weren’t hurting for money now but it was the memory that had Abby whipping up the dish.

“Dad, can you set the table please?” She called out even as she tossed together a simple salad and pulled out some store bought rolls. A simple meal for sure but it was balanced and something that her dad could eat for a few days before turning to any of the other premade meals she was leaving behind. Abby was already smiling as she imagined her father’s reaction to the frozen food. He was a grown man who could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to at least make cooking that much easier for him. He was her daddy after all and she loved him.