My Adorable Little Rascal

The living room falls into a deathly silence.

Julian stands at the center, hands calmly tucked into his pockets, posture relaxed — but his gaze is like a scalpel. Across from him, Skylar's mother stands stiff, trembling, her eyes darting between him, Skylar, Sunny, and the silent figure now blocking her path — Nathan.

Skylar presses against Julian's side, her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his sleeve. Sunny hovers behind Nathan's shoulder, her usual cheerfulness gone, replaced by something sharp and coiled.

Julian is the one who speaks first.

"You asked about proof, didn't you?"

The woman flinches, but says nothing.

Julian calmly swings his school bag forward, unzips it, and pulls out a stack of thick, manila folders — each bursting at the seams with papers. Photos, documents, printed text messages, written statements.

He walks up to the coffee table and drops them with a thump that echoes through the room.

"Read."

The woman stares. She doesn't move.

Julian's voice cuts sharper now: "Hospital records. School incident reports. Notes from teachers. Testimonies from neighbors. All of it. Some signed. Some with photos."

He lets the silence stretch. Then, casually adds: "I've already sent copies to the police. Two days ago."

Her breath hitches — barely audible.

"You little—"

"You think this is a joke?" Julian snaps: "You think you can keep hurting her just because she doesn't hit back?"

"You don't know her," the woman growls: "You're just some brat who's been around for what, five minutes? You think you know what goes on in this house?"

Julian doesn't blink: "I know enough."

And then — something breaks.

With a guttural scream, the woman lunges toward him, not with words — but with a kitchen knife, pulled from beneath the table.

"SKYLAR!!" Sunny screams, instinctively darting forward.

But Nathan moves first.

With a single, practiced step, he plants himself squarely in front of Julian and Skylar. His hand snaps forward, catching the woman's wrist mid-swing. The blade stops inches from Julian's side.

"You're not touching them," Nathan says, voice cold enough to freeze blood.

She thrashes wildly in his grip, screaming.

From behind Nathan's back, Sunny pokes her head out and glares.

"Seriously, lady? We bring receipts and you respond with attempted murder? What are you, the final boss of an action game?"

Julian steps forward slowly. He pries the knife from her hand, unfazed.

A loud BANG comes from the door.

"Police! Open up!"

Everyone freezes.

Nathan doesn't miss a beat. With practiced force, he spins the woman around, pinning her arms behind her back just as two officers burst through the door.

One scans the room — eyes flicking across the toppled furniture, the broken glass, the stack of files on the coffee table. His gaze lands on the teenagers... and the woman still squirming in Nathan's grip.

He raises his voice:"Who's Evelyn Song?"

Skylar stiffens. Julian tightens his hold around her.

The woman hesitates. Her mouth opens — then shuts. Then, hoarse:

"...I am."

The officer nods: "Evelyn Song, you're under investigation for child abuse, assault with a deadly weapon, and obstruction of justice. You have the right to remain silent…"

As he reads her rights, she begins to scream again.

"You morons! You believe her?! That little brat ruined everything! She should've never been born!"

"Shut up!" Nathan barks, his tone like thunder.

Julian steps back, wrapping Skylar in both arms this time. Her face is blank — too still. Her eyes are wide, unfocused.

Only when the front door slams behind the retreating officers and the screaming woman do her lips finally part.

"...She's gone?"

Julian nods silently.

The quiet is heavy. For a moment, no one moves.

Ten minutes later, the officers are gone — after promising follow-ups and offering emergency services. The three teens sit in the wreckage of a home that never felt like one. Nathan stands near the entrance, vigilant as always. Sunny sits cross-legged on the couch, chewing on a lollipop she somehow conjured from her bag.

Skylar hasn't moved from Julian's side.

"...I didn't think it would happen like this," she says softly.

Julian looks at her.

"I thought... if I just kept my head down, eventually she'd stop. Maybe if I did well enough, or was quiet enough…"

Julian's jaw tightens: "It was never your fault. And it was never going to stop. People like her don't stop unless someone makes them."

Skylar nods faintly. Then whispers:"…Do you think I'll turn into her?"

Julian grabs her hand. Hard.

"No," he says.

"You don't know that."

"I do. You still cared. Even today. You cried when she got dragged out. You—"He stops himself. His voice softens."You're still good, Skylar. Even after everything. That's not weakness. That's... something most people don't have."

Sunny drops onto the carpet beside them: "You're officially free now, Sky Baby. So — we're celebrating. Tonight. My place."

Skylar blinks: "What kind of celebration?"

"Food. Candy. Random romcoms. Zero talk about murder moms."

Julian smirks: "You just made that up."

"Damn right I did."

Skylar breathes out a quiet laugh — her first real one in days.

Julian touches her shoulder: "You're coming with me. At least until we figure things out. You won't be alone tonight. Or any night."

Skylar blinks: "But your family—"

"They already said yes."

Sunny gasps: "So… Sky Baby's moving in?!"

"Don't call me that—" Skylar starts, but stops as her cheeks flush pink.

That night, as they drive away from the battered house, Skylar sits in the back seat. Julian is beside her, warm and quiet. Sunny hums along to a chaotic pop song, candy in her lap. Nathan drives, silent, calm.

The wind slips through the cracked window.

For the first time in a long while... Skylar lets herself lean back.

She doesn't know what comes next.

But this time, she's not afraid to find out.

And this time… she doesn't walk alone.