The Villain's Daughter
He stared at the boy writhing on the concrete floor, his lips trembling.
“Lila! Who is he?”
I blinked, feigning a shy blush. “He’s my soulmate.”
In the weeks that followed, I used his basement to hold the captain of the soccer team, the school bully, and a couple of dropouts from the neighborhood…
Until the day I decided to go for a big score.
I went to push the door open and found it welded shut.
1
I stood at the front door, my little backpack slung over my shoulders, and stretched onto my tiptoes to press the doorbell.
The door swung open, revealing a face that was both intimately familiar and yet a complete stranger.
Cole Blackwood. My father. Nine years younger.
His eyes were brighter than I remembered, but the storm clouds of gloom were already gathering in his brow. The sleeves of his black button-down were rolled to his elbows, showing off powerful forearms that were still missing the jagged scar he’d get protecting me from a knife.
“Which one of the neighbors are you? Wrong house, kid.” He frowned, his voice a low, cold rumble.
I tilted my head back and beamed at him. “Daddy, it’s me, Lila. Your daughter. From nine years in the future.”
The expression on Cole’s face froze solid.
His eyes swept over me, morphing from confusion to sharp suspicion. His right hand was already reaching for the phone in his pocket.
“Kid, you can’t just go around calling strange men ‘daddy.’ Did your actual father approve this little field trip?”
“You need to leave. Now,” he threatened. “Before I have the cops haul you away for fraud.”
I was prepared for this. I pulled a folded copy of a DNA test from my backpack and waved it in front of his face.
“The police don’t arrest minors. This is a paternity test. If you don’t believe it, we can go get a new one right now.”
His hand paused its journey to his phone. His gaze fixed on the paper, his frown deepening. I could see the gears turning in his head, trying to work out the angle of the scam.
While he hesitated, I ducked under his arm and slipped into the house.
“Out!” he barked, lunging for me.
I dodged him easily and did a quick scan of the living room.
“The house looks pretty much the same as it did nine years ago,” I noted. “Just missing my toys and all your whiskey bottles.”
I pointed. “Behind that TV console, you keep a safe. The combination is 0-9-0-5-2-4.”
Cole froze, his expression turning to one of genuine shock. No one else knew about the safe, let alone the combination.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice was laced with a dangerous edge now.
“Your daughter,” I said simply.
I sighed, knowing he still wasn't convinced, and pulled a small notebook from my bag.
“May 20th, 2013. You were ambushed during a deal with the Vipers at the southside warehouse. You took a bullet in your left shoulder.”
“Christmas, 2014. You snuck the newest game console under my pillow and told me it was from Santa Claus.”
I held the notebook out to him.
“Do I need to mention the time you sang ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ so off-key in the shower?”
The tips of his ears turned a visible shade of pink.
He snatched the notebook from my hand and flipped through the pages, his face growing darker with every entry he read.
“This is impossible…” he muttered.
“It’s very possible. If you still don’t believe me, we can go get that DNA test.”
His gaze flickered over my face, a storm of conflicting emotions in his eyes. Finally, he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Alex, get a doctor over here. Now. Someone who can run a rush paternity test.”
He hung up and glared at me. “Until those results come back, you’d better not try anything funny.”
I just shrugged, trotted into the dining room like I owned the place, and plopped down on a chair, my short legs swinging.
“Daddy, I’m hungry. Can you make me dinner?”
Cole looked at me as if I’d just asked him to build a rocket to the moon.
“You want me to cook? I don’t cook. I have never cooked.”
“Liar,” I said, ticking off items on my fingers. “You can make sweet and sour ribs, Coke-braised chicken wings, pan-seared sea bass… and your special pineapple and shrimp fried rice is my absolute favorite thing in the world.”
His frown deepened. “I don't set foot in the kitchen. We have Mrs. Gable for that.”
“That’s just because you haven’t learned yet,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes. “Turns out, you’re a natural. A total prodigy. Besides, Mrs. Gable could never make it taste the way you do.”
2
Cole’s jaw twitched. His eyes darted unconsciously to the clock on the wall.
I knew what he was thinking.
According to his original schedule, he was supposed to leave in three hours to drug and kidnap Claire. If he started cooking now, it could throw his entire plan off schedule.
Right on cue, my stomach let out a long, pathetic growl.
“I haven’t eaten in three days… My tummy is all empty.”
Cole’s head snapped toward me. “What do you mean? The future me… he doesn’t feed you?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s because you died, so they sent me to an orphanage. And there… only the good kids got to eat.”
I dropped my head, my voice sinking to a whisper.
“And I was not the good kind.”
The Sunshine Home was a front, a pipeline for supplying children to predators. I had waited until the middle of the night, unlocked all the doors so the other kids could run, and tried to set the whole rotten place on fire.
But they caught me before the flames got very high.
The director and his men, they beat me with belts. They put out their cigarettes on my skin. If the police hadn't shown up for a surprise inspection, I probably would have died right there.
It was in that moment, hovering on the edge of death, that I finally understood. My father, Cole Blackwood, was just a villain in a story. In his desperate fight for the heroine, he had hurt others, and he had destroyed himself.
And my mother? She was a woman who had loved him from the shadows.
At a gala, a rival drugged my father and locked him in a room with the heroine. But my mother secretly let the heroine go… and took her place. She got pregnant with me and died from a hemorrhage giving birth. By the time my father found out about any of it, it was too late.
He was consumed by regret, by grief. He tortured himself. My existence was the only flicker of light in his world of darkness.
But when I was five, he died too.
The Blackwood fortune was carved up and stolen by vultures, and I was thrown into the orphanage.
After my escape and the fire, the hospital authorities were planning to send me to another facility. I didn't want to be passed around again, so I just grabbed my little backpack and ran. I didn't expect that the little alley I escaped down would lead me here, nine years into the past.
Cole’s fingers clenched into a fist. “And your mother? Who is she?”
I bit my lip and shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? How can you not know who your own mother is?” His voice was sharp with disbelief.
Because in the flashes of memory I had, my mother was only ever mentioned in two simple sentences. One, she was in love with Cole Blackwood. Two, she died after giving birth to me.
I held up my small hands. “I never met her. She died from a hemorrhage… Besides, shouldn’t you be the one I’m asking?”
The question hit him like a physical blow.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice was unsteady when he spoke. “You said… your mother… bled to death when you were born?”
His face was growing paler by the second. I asked softly, “Daddy, are you okay?”
Cole didn’t answer. He turned and walked to the window, his back to me. He stood there for a long time, shrouded in an aura of profound sadness.
I was about to say something else, but my stomach roared again, demanding attention. I really was starving. I’d left in such a hurry I hadn’t even had a sip of water.
The sound seemed to pull him back to reality. He turned, his eyes a swirling mix of emotions.
“I can’t be sure I believe anything you’re saying right now,” he said, his voice strained. “Why don’t you let me make you dinner first? After the paternity test comes back, you can ask me whatever you want.”
I pouted, my lower lip trembling pitifully.
A muscle in Cole’s jaw jumped.
He hesitated for a moment longer, then finally took out his phone and started searching for recipes.
3
“What do you want to eat?” he asked gruffly, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Sweet and sour ribs! And the Coke-braised chicken wings! And…”
I rattled off a list of his future culinary masterpieces.
Cole raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure I know how to make any of this?”
“I’m not sure,” I said with unwavering confidence. “But I know you’re a fast learner.”
He let out a short, humorless laugh, but he started gathering ingredients according to my menu anyway.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, stood on the porch, holding bags of groceries. Her eyes traveled past Cole to where I was sitting, and they widened. “Mr. Blackwood… who… oh, my goodness, doesn’t this little one look just like you!”
“Mrs. Gable.” Cole cleared his throat, a hint of awkwardness in his voice. “This is… a child who’s staying here temporarily. She was hungry, so I was just about to…”
“Oh, heavens, sir! You don’t know how to cook. Let me do it!” Mrs. Gable immediately set down her bags and headed for the kitchen.
I looked at Cole expectantly.
He hesitated, then surprised me by saying, “That’s alright, Mrs. Gable. Tonight… I’d like to try myself.”
Mrs. Gable’s jaw dropped. She looked back and forth between the two of us. “Sir, are you saying… you’re going to cook?”
“Yes.” Cole was already rolling up his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms. “You can just teach me as I go.”
Mrs. Gable looked from Cole to me, and then a look of sudden understanding dawned on her face. Her eyes crinkled into a joyful smile.
“Of course, of course! I’ll be your sous chef! And what’s your name, little darling? What’s your favorite dish?”
“Sweet and sour ribs!” I cheered, hopping in my seat.
The scene that followed was a culinary disaster zone.
Under Mrs. Gable’s guidance, Cole fumbled his way through preparing the ribs. He stared at the recipe on his phone so intently you’d think he was trying to set it on fire with his mind, not even noticing when he spilled soy sauce on his hand. Still, he stubbornly refused to let Mrs. Gable take over, insisting on completing every step himself.
“Rice wine… soy sauce… dark soy sauce…” he muttered, his brow furrowed in concentration.
I sat on a high stool by the kitchen entrance, swinging my legs and acting as commander-in-chief.
“Daddy, the heat is too high! …Now add the sugar! …Flip them, flip them!”
“Quiet, I know!” he shot back without turning, but there was no real anger in his voice.
By the time the first platter of sweet and sour ribs was finally plated, the kitchen was a complete wreck. A sheen of sweat covered Cole’s forehead, and his black shirt was splattered with oil, but the glistening, reddish-brown ribs on the plate smelled absolutely divine.
“Try it.” He pushed the plate toward me, his face a stern mask that couldn’t quite hide the flicker of anticipation in his eyes.
I eagerly picked up a piece and took a bite.
It was the perfect balance of sweet and tangy, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. It was eighty percent there. Eighty percent him.
“It’s so delicious!” I exclaimed, my mouth full. “Daddy, you’re a genius!”
The corner of Cole’s mouth ticked upward before he forced it back down. “Stop with the flattery.”
Mrs. Gable was beaming beside us. “Sir, your talent is just incredible! To cook this well on your first try!”
He cleared his throat and turned to get the rice, but not before I saw the tips of his ears turn a faint shade of red.
The discovery thrilled me.
The nine-years-younger version of my dad was so easily embarrassed!
The DNA results came back before evening.
4
When Mrs. Gable rushed in with the envelope, I was on the living room floor, assembling a Lego set Cole had bought for me. He’d insisted it was only a temporary loan, of course.
“Sir! The results are here!”
Cole strode out of his study. I noticed his fingertips were trembling slightly as he took the envelope.
I put down my Lego piece and sat cross-legged, my heart starting to pound. Even though I already knew the outcome, watching him tear open that envelope made me chew on my lower lip with nervous energy.
He pulled out the thin sheet of paper, his eyes jumping straight to the bottom line. He froze, looking as if he’d been struck by lightning.
“99.99%…” Cole whispered, his voice barely audible.
Mrs. Gable was already dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I knew it! I said she had your eyes, your nose… she’s the spitting image of you, sir!” Then, a thought struck her. “Sir, who is the missus? When do we get to meet her?”
Cole’s expression became impossibly complicated. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I… I don’t know.”
Mrs. Gable’s smile froze. Her gaze darted between Cole and me before she tactfully retreated. “I’ll… I’ll go start on dinner…”
The room fell silent, leaving just the two of us.
Cole slowly crouched down to my level, his eyes—so much like my own—swirling with emotions I couldn't decipher.
“Lila…” He used my name, a rare occurrence, his voice raw. “Your mother really… bled to death?”
I nodded. “My mom must have loved you so much, Daddy. To risk everything just to have me.”
Cole went rigid, as if someone had hit a pause button on the world. His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, and a film of moisture seemed to cloud his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he just raised a hand and gently rested it on the top of my head.
“Go take a bath. Mrs. Gable laid out some pajamas for you.”
After my bath, I tiptoed to Cole’s bedroom and, without knocking, pushed the door open. It was a privilege my future self had earned; I wondered if it would still work now.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a photograph. He immediately flipped it facedown on the nightstand when he heard me.
It was a picture of Claire.
“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing with a hint of panic.
I padded over to him, my bare feet silent on the rug. I looked up at him. “I can’t sleep. You haven’t sung me my lullaby yet.”
Cole stared. “…What?”
“My lullaby. The song to help kids sleep.” I climbed onto his bed and burrowed under the covers as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“I don’t know any,” he said flatly.
“You didn’t know how to cook, but you learned. You’ll learn how to sing, too.” I blinked up at him.
Cole’s mouth twitched. I think he was starting to regret his culinary adventure. He stood up, towering over me. “Go back to your own room.”
“No. It smells better in here.” I pulled the covers over my head.
“Li-la.” He enunciated each syllable, but there was no real force behind it. He was helpless against me.
I peeked out from under the blanket. The expression on his face shifted from annoyance to resignation, and finally to a strange kind of surrender.
“…I really can’t sing,” he said, his voice low.
I revealed half my face. “Then just hum something. You smell so good, Daddy…”
His body went noticeably stiff.
After a long moment, he cleared his throat and began to hum a simple, wordless melody. It was a little off-key, but it was gentle.
I closed my eyes. It was the same song he always sang to me after a nightmare.
When the humming stopped, I was drifting in the space between sleep and wakefulness. Through the haze, I felt a pair of hands gently lift me into the air.
5
As he adjusted his hold, my pajama sleeve slid down. Cole’s breath hitched.
I forced my eyes open and saw him staring at the scars on my arm, his face as white as a sheet.
“Who did this?”
“The director at The Sunshine Home… but it’s okay, I set his office on fire later…” I mumbled, my eyelids too heavy to keep open.
Cole’s arms tightened around me, holding me securely against his chest. His eyes looked red.
“It will never happen again,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear it.”
I snuggled into a comfortable spot in his arms and let sleep take me.
To help Cole fully embrace his new role as a father, I dragged him through a series of classic bonding activities.
“Daddy, let’s go to the amusement park!” I announced on Monday morning, sprawling across his desk and pushing aside the contracts he was reviewing.
Cole didn’t even look up. “No time.”
“What about the Natural History Museum? I heard they have a T-Rex.”
“Not going.”
“The circus, then? It’s right downtown!”
He finally lifted his head, his brow so furrowed you could get lost in the lines. “Lila, I’m very busy.”
I pouted and slid a photograph from my backpack across the desk. It was from a trip to Disneyland when I was three. Cole was wearing Minnie Mouse ears, holding me in one arm and an ice cream cone in the other, a huge, genuine smile on his face.
He stared at the picture for a full ten seconds, the tips of his ears glowing red.
“…This is photoshopped.”
“No, it’s not! It was your first time on the carousel, and you almost threw up when you got off.” I pointed at the photo triumphantly.
Cole looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He rubbed his temples, defeated. “…Fine. One place.”
“The amusement park!” I shot my hand up.
“The museum,” he countered.
“Deal!”
And so began our week-long crash course in father-daughter activities.
At the museum, Cole stood stiffly in front of the T-Rex skeleton while I gave him an enthusiastic, detailed account of the epic battle between the Tyrannosaurus Rex and Godzilla—a story he himself would tell me years from now.
“Godzilla fought a T-Rex?” he asked, skeptical.
“That’s what you told me! You also said Snow White married the Beast.”
At the circus, when a clown bounded over for some audience participation, Cole’s instincts kicked in, and he nearly threw the poor man over his shoulder. I had to grab his arm. “Daddy, calm down! It’s part of the show!”
Afterward, he actually took me to the amusement park.
“Well, we’ve already been to two places. What’s one more,” he grumbled, though his heart clearly wasn’t in the complaint.
He was as rigid as a board on the carousel. He almost sent our bumper car flying off the track. And in the haunted house, he was the one whose face went pale when the actors jumped out, while I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe.
“Li-la!” He clamped a hand over my mouth the second we were out, his teeth clenched, but I could see the ghost of a smile in his eyes.
In all this time, he seemed to have completely forgotten about Claire.
But I knew the peace wouldn’t last.
According to the original timeline, Claire was about to have a major fight with her boyfriend, Ethan. She would run off to a dangerous part of town, and Cole would go to save her, only to be wrongly accused of being her attacker.
That incident would send him into a deep depression, and he’d start drinking heavily.
I had to do something to stop it.
6
So the next day, after Cole left for work, I used my allowance to hire a few local troublemakers to tie up the bleach-blond kid who’d been extorting lunch money from the younger students.
“Little boss, we brought him like you said. Where’s the cash?” the leader of the group asked, rubbing his hands together.
I handed him the bills Cole had given me. “Don’t you dare tell my dad!”
“Our lips are sealed!” They snatched the money and vanished.
I looked at the gagged and bound kid. “Don’t worry, it’s just for one night. You stole that first grader’s lunch money last week, right? Consider this your punishment.”
The kid mumbled incomprehensibly through the cloth stuffed in his mouth.
With a great deal of effort, I dragged him into the basement.
I had just locked the door when I heard a car pull into the driveway.
Crap. Why was Cole home so early?
I scrambled to the sofa and pretended to be engrossed in a cartoon.
Cole walked in and saw me sitting there, a little too perfectly behaved, and a look of suspicion crossed his face. “Lila, have you eaten?”
“Not yet. I was waiting for you, Daddy.”
He came over and ruffled my hair. “I’m just going to change.”
As he headed upstairs, a loud thump echoed from the basement. That stupid kid was ramming the door.
Cole paused on the stairs and glanced at me. Then he changed course and started toward the basement.
My heart leaped into my throat. I shot up and ran to block his path.
“Daddy! Go change! I’m starving!” I tugged on his sleeve, my voice deliberately loud and whiny.
Just then, another heavy thump came from below, followed by a series of muffled cries.
Cole pulled his arm free. “Lila, who is in there?”
“I don’t know! Probably a rat? A really, really big one!” I said, my eyes wide with innocence.
He snorted. “Do I look like a three-year-old to you?”
The moment he opened the door, Cole froze.
The bleach-blond kid had managed to give himself a bloody nose. His mouth was still gagged, and he was sobbing as he wriggled across the floor. When he saw Cole, his eyes lit up as if he’d found his long-lost mother, and he started desperately humping his way forward.
The silence was heavy.
Cole turned to me, his face a blank mask. “Explain. Who is this?”
I puffed out my chest. “My soulmate!”
He looked like he’d misheard. “…What?”
“You know… the older boy… who bought me a lollipop at the convenience store last week… I thought he was so handsome…” I said, trying to look shy.
The kid’s eyes went wide. He shook his head frantically, smearing blood across the floor.
Cole’s face went from pale to dark thunder. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. “Lila, did you just kidnap your… soulmate?”
“It wasn’t kidnapping! I just… invited him over! I didn’t know he’d be so shy…” I defended myself weakly.
Cole closed his eyes, visibly forcing himself to stay calm. He walked over and ripped the tape off the kid’s mouth.
The boy let out a terrified yelp. “Mister, I swear I didn’t do anything to her! I don’t even know this little monster! That lollipop last week? She stole it from me!”
He was right. He had stolen a kid’s lunch money to buy snacks, and I had simply relieved him of the lollipop.
Cole turned to look at me, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm?”
I shrank back. “The details aren’t important…”
He sighed, untied the kid, and ordered him not to say a word about this to anyone. After swearing on his life, the boy scrambled out, tripped on the stairs, and knocked out a tooth on his way.
Once he was gone, Cole turned to me with a cold expression and demanded to know why I’d done it.
Tears welled in my eyes. “Why are you being so mean, Daddy? You’re the one who taught me. If you see something you want, you take it.”
I looked him straight in the eye. “I wanted this big boy. Why couldn’t I just take him?”
7
He was clearly at a loss for words, blindsided by my logic. “When did I ever teach you that?”
“In the future.”
The truth was, Cole had never directly taught me such things, but I knew his methods. I was just following his example, leaving him with no ground to stand on.
His expression softened, becoming more complex. He was silent for a long time. “Lila… that’s not right. You can’t just take what you want by force. Do you understand?”
“Okay.” I understood. But why didn’t he?
Cole gently took my chin, making me look at him. “I’m serious. No matter what the… future me becomes, the me standing here now is telling you that forcing people is wrong.”
“But… what if you like something so, so much?” I asked in a small voice.
“You can work hard to earn it, but you can’t hurt others to get it. Truly strong people don’t need to use force to get what they want.”
Hearing those words from his lips felt strange.
But… he wouldn’t lie to a child, would he? He wouldn’t go back on his word and lock Claire in the basement, would he?
I decided to trust him. For now.
That evening at dinner, as Cole was carefully picking the bones out of my fish, he asked, “Lila, what grade are you in?”
I froze, my fork hovering over my rice. “I don’t go to school.”
He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. “Why not?”
“After you died, I went to the orphanage. The director said I was pretty and could fetch a high price. He said school makes kids know too much, and the buyers don’t like that.”
The air in the dining room turned to ice. I didn’t dare look at his face.
“The first buyer he set me up with was a movie director. He said he’d make me an actress. But he locked me in a cage and told me to get on all fours and bark like a dog.”
The chopsticks in Cole’s hand snapped in two.
“He didn’t like the look in my eyes. Said I was too fierce, not obedient enough… Later, when I got a chance, I bit one of his fingers off.”
“And then what?” His voice was a terrifyingly low growl.
“They sent me back. I got a beating. With a hot iron poker.” I pushed up my sleeve, revealing the winding, raised scars on my arm.
Cole shot up from his chair, his eyes red and frightening, filled with a raw, murderous intent. “I’m going to kill them. Right now.”
I jumped down and grabbed his trembling hand. “Daddy, that’s in the future. Right now, The Sunshine Home is just a normal orphanage.”
“Lila… I’m so sorry…” His face was a mask of self-loathing and regret.
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault, Daddy. It’s their fault for being bad people.”
Cole pulled me into a fierce hug, promising me that nothing like that would ever happen again.
“Tomorrow… I’ll take you to look at schools. The best one…”
The next morning, Cole drove me to school himself. It was even more beautiful than I could have imagined. I heard it was funded by the Blackwood Corporation. I was placed in the first grade, class three, at Sunlight Experimental Elementary.
Most of the kids were friendly, especially my desk mate, Daisy, who shared her stickers with me.
When school let out, just as I’d expected, Cole was the first person waiting at the gate.
“Did you like it?” he asked, taking my backpack and wiping the sweat from my forehead.
8
“I loved it! Daisy taught me how to fold paper airplanes, Mrs. Davis said my handwriting was beautiful, and the chicken wings at lunch were so good!” I chattered excitedly, waving my arms.
A genuine smile touched Cole’s lips. “Good. I’m glad.”
That night, a breaking news story caught my eye on the television: “Blackwood Corporation officially announced the acquisition of The Sunshine Home today, pledging a multi-million dollar investment to improve its facilities and educational standards…”
My head whipped around to look at Cole. “Daddy! The Sunshine Home!”
He didn’t look up from his newspaper. “Mm.”
A week later, another news story aired during dinner: “Famed director Arthur Vance arrested on suspicion of false imprisonment and child abuse. Sources say police discovered… in his private villa…”
The middle-aged man being led away in handcuffs was him—the monster from my past who had told me to bark like a dog.
Cole was looking over my homework. “Lila, 3 + 5 = 10?”
“Daddy…” My voice cracked.
He didn’t look up. “Even I know that 3 + 5 doesn’t equal 10.”
I…
Just when I thought he might finally be able to let Claire go, Ethan’s call came through.
Cole glanced at the caller ID, then answered.
“Blackwood, where the hell have you hidden Claire?” Ethan roared through the phone.
A flicker of tension crossed Cole’s face. “What are you talking about? What happened to Claire?”
“Cut the crap! She told me she was going to see you last night, and now she’s missing!”
“I haven’t seen her recently. What’s going on?”
There was a pause on the other end, and then the line went dead.
Cole stared at the dark screen for a moment, then finally looked at me. “Lila… do you know where Claire is?”
My heart sank. Even after everything, he couldn’t let her go.
“Daddy, if you go, you’ll only get hurt. Auntie Claire will be okay. Uncle Ethan will save her.”
Cole was silent for a moment. “If… if you know something, can you please tell me?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt! Just because I’m from the future doesn’t mean I know everything! I don’t know! I wasn’t even born yet, how would I know?”
I angrily pushed away from him and ran upstairs.
A moment later, I heard the front door close.
He had gone anyway.
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