”What are you doing?! Stop it!” Hermie exclaimed in shock as he rushed over to you and took the cutter from your hand, throwing it out the window.

”Why are you doing this?! What's wrong with you?!” Hermie asked, his tone filled with urgency, as he quickly grabbed a towel to try and stop the bleeding from your hand.

”Who did this to you?” he asked urgently, his voice a mixture of anger and concern. ”Who made you this way? Tell me what's going on!”

Hermie listened intently as you recounted everything that happened while he was away in Australia. As he heard the details, his shock and anger grew with each word. He couldn't believe that your own father and stepmother were responsible for the state you were in—the ones who inflicted the wounds and trauma that had transformed your personality into someone he barely recognized.

He immediately hugged you, his own tears flowing as he heard your cries against his chest. He held the back of your head and his other hand stroked your back as it shook with friends.

In a voice choked with emotion, he muttered through his tears, ”I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," his voice filled with guilt and regret. ”I should have just taken you with me when I left. I shouldn't have left you here alone with them.”

”Please,” you begged, your voice wavering as you continued to cry against Hermie's chest. ”Don't stop holding my hands.”

Your fingers instinctively gripped his tighter, seeking comfort in the familiar touch.

He held you even tighter, pressing you against him as if he could shield you from the world. ”I'm not letting go. I'm here now,” Hermie whispered, his voice barely louder than a breath. ”I promise. I'll make things right. I'll take care of you now. I won't let anyone hurt you again.”

Hermie pulled back, his gaze locking with yours. Determination burning in his eyes, he declared, ”I'm going to talk to our parents about this. Then I'm taking you to Australia with me.”