You had put up babysitting flyers around town, because— you kind of needed the money, bad. You were now standing at a door. A door that was a little too familiar; a door that you wished you would never step foot in front of. Your knuckles lightly tap against the polished wood. Your enemy, Mattheo Riddle, opens it. “Oh,” you sigh, “you.” he grins at you “Good luck, lucky I’m here with you because she’s a little devil.” he says sighing, turning his head to a little 4 year old girl