Annabelle's POV
Faking one's death wasn't as easy as I thought.
Nothing prepares you for that. Not even a shit ton of training. Nothing prepares you for the anxiety, the fear, the uncertainty of starting anew. These few days had been shitty for me but deep down I knew I had it better than my dad. At least am still breathing.
Rita came into the room with a knowing look plastered on her face.
"You ready to die?" She asks, coming to sit beside me on the bed. I gave her a heavy sigh before responding.
"Are you ever?" I replied with a grimace. She patted my back lightly, understanding smearing her face. She and Izzy had been nothing but supportive to me ever since this nightmare began. For once I could agree with my father's choice of friends for me. Funny that the first time we ever agreed on something, it occurred when he no longer existed.
