5 comments/ 4248 views/ 5 favorites Flower Ch. 01 By: SomeSayLove The wonderful thing about long lasting friendships is that they often create strange, but very interesting combinations of people. In a small group of friends, who have known each other for years, where the need to hide uncomfortable truths or embarrassing facts should no longer be present, where the need to impress and excel at things should no longer be needed, where genuine friendship should allow everyone to be who they really are, the question still remains - do we ever really reach a point where we feel secure enough to show our true selves to anyone, even our closest friends? What if we could really get to know a group of women; their lives, their secrets and their innermost selves? Would we be able to see if it's our thoughts, our dreams or our flaws that define us? And are we really so different from everyone else? Don't we all just want to have a home where we can feel safe, someone that holds us and speaks of love and something that we can be proud of, that sets us apart? Meet Sarah, who goes through life spreading happiness with her good cheer and warm-heartedness; who is not afraid to love and love deeply. And Susan, a strong, self-reliant woman who never lets anyone get too close because people can't hurt you if don't give them the chance. And beautiful, well-dressed, smiling Rose who wants everyone to be happy and lives what appears to be the perfect life. And Mary, laughing, all-seeing Mary, who wants to protect the ones she love, but who also wants to keep them away, afraid that she will hurt them if they get too close. ----------- Yet another night filled with smiles, small talk and general merriment; and just a few hours added to the thousands and thousands spent in pretend happiness. Yet another gathering for the express purpose of letting the rich stroke each other's egos and help fill each other's pockets; and me standing there, just another trophy wife, supporting my husband in his efforts to reach ever higher on the glittering steps of social status and financial gain. "Hello Rose dear!" A female voice woke me from my bitter thoughts and I looked up, smiled and greeted the elderly woman in front of me with a cheerful "Hello there" before kissing her cheek, taking her hand and asking about her family; the simple act of greeting an acquaintance as if she was one of my closest friends perfected over the long years of service. You could always count on me to do and say the right things; I had been taught well. In those first few months, where I still clung to the notion that my thoughts and opinions counted, he had taught me well and often. Well enough to know that it was in my best interest to smile, wave, hug and kiss my way through any number of social gatherings and to never let any of the thoughts spinning in my head show on my face. To be really honest, most of the years had passed by in a gray mist, where I didn't feel or think anything. And perhaps those were the happy years, at least compared to these last few months where a newly awakened need to get away had started to make my life almost as miserable as those first few months of married life. I stood there sipping a glass of champagne, smiling to everyone that passed me by, the ever increasing need to scream, rage and cry almost overwhelming me. It had been like this since that one Thursday evening with my friends when Sarah had told us that she longed for someone she could love and Mary had laughed and said "be careful what you wish for". Something had just clicked in my mind right then and there, the calm grayness that surrounded me had started to slip away and I became aware of my own thoughts and feelings again. And I started crying myself to sleep every night and woke up screaming every morning. Very silently of course, because I knew the punishment that followed unwanted bursts of emotion. How I wished I could be free from this miserable life and brave enough to make it so, I thought as the last tones of the national anthem sent my mind spinning again. The dark thoughts of 'the eternal peace of death' that kept haunting me were quickly swept away. I wanted to live, but a happy life, not this nightmarish existence with days filled with faked happiness and superficial beauty, where my every move was monitored and controlled. I felt a chill run down my spine and recognizing the feeling of being watched I turned my head slightly to the left, smiled an even wider smile and waved lovingly to my husband; probably fooling everyone at the party, except for him; hopefully adding some positive numbers to the negative ones that almost falling on the way in had most certainly given me in this night's behavior ledger. I wasn't punished very often these days and I was carefully hoping that his need to go see to his own pleasures - thankfully not so often in my bed nowadays - would make him deliver the needed hard words and accompanying fists quickly. He tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow indicating he wanted me to come to him. I put my glass away and walked over, always the dutiful wife. I kissed his cheek and purred out a "darling" that could be overheard by everyone who stood close by. Perhaps there was a chance for me to get back on his good side before the night was over. "Rose," he said "I'd like for you to meet Senator Reynolds." "Good evening Senator," I said and turned to the stocky, red-faced man standing a few steps away "it's a pleasure to meet you!" I could feel his eyes trailing across my body and the way my tight dress followed my curves. His face grew just a few shades redder and the speed of his breathing increased. A discreet sign from my husband made me aware that this had been his intention and as I slid closer to the Senator I wondered what this particular person had or could do that my husband needed. I wrapped my arm around the Senator's, laughed at the small jokes he was telling me and forced myself not to shudder as his eyes ran admiringly across my cleavage. I hoped I wouldn't have to go too far in my admiration for him; there's nothing that can make you feel quite like a cheap whore as being... a cheap whore. - - - - - I didn't wake up screaming the next morning but just opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling, my whole being filled with a sense of purpose. I had to do something about my life otherwise I'd be stuck doing the same things over and over again for the rest of my life; pleasing and pleasuring my husband and everyone he threw my way until I couldn't take it anymore. But how do you break free when you don't have any money, when you're almost always under surveillance and when you can't trust anyone, except perhaps your three closest friends; the only real ones you have, who will no longer be your friends after your husband has destroyed them as he has promised he can and will? I carefully eased myself out of bed, trying not to upset the ribs on my right side that hurt from that single strong blow to them the night before. Still, I was glad that he had only hit me once; you had to appreciate the little things in life. I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water sooth my body, trying to relax the muscles that were somehow always tense, perhaps waiting for the next degrading task or painful experience. I couldn't really remember what my body had felt like when I was younger, when I ran carelessly across the fields by my grandmother's house in the summers or when I danced the night away as I grew slightly older. Thinking back only caused me pain, but I let myself walk down memory lane, seeing myself as a girl, then a teenager and then slightly older, on the verge of womanhood. I remembered the way my family had always laughed, hugged and kissed each other, the way my mother and father showed their love for each other every single day and the way I just couldn't wait to find that special love for myself. Naïve, starry-eyed, poor eighteen year old fool that I was; I had been an easy target for the good-looking, rich prince of our town. The way he had been such a gentleman always, the gifts he brought me and the way he said he only had eyes for me had made me fall madly in love with him. When he asked me to marry him I had jumped at the chance, even though my mother had cautioned me to wait a little while longer, to get to know him a little bit better. I was the envy of everyone as I walked down the aisle and became Mrs. Bannister, the lovely new bride in one of the wealthiest families in the area. I couldn't have been happier and as I waved to my parents after the luxurious wedding party I did it with high hopes and the biggest smile I had ever worn. The honeymoon changed my feelings quite abruptly as I was taught lesson after lesson about myself and the man I had married. I shied away from the thoughts of the warm days and nights on that miserable tropical island. I could feel the need to throw up rising, as it always did when my thoughts circled too close to those first three weeks of our marriage, and the following week that I spent in a luxurious room at the hospital after having 'fallen down the stairs'. The private hospital where no questions were asked, no reports were written and where the staff members who looked at me with pity in their eyes, soon found themselves without a job. Such were the ways of the very rich. Some part of me was grateful for the way that my father stepped in and told his son to 'not leave visible marks in the future' with the added 'she's no good to us without her looks' comment. But the way he said it, standing in my room at the hospital, not caring if I heard him made me realize that he had known about the rough and violent nature of son. It also made me realize that I could never expect any help from that side of the family, because in their eyes I was just another bought item, something my husband could use as he pleased, just as long as he did it discreetly and kept the family name clean from scandal. I don't think that my mother and father believed in the falling-down-the-stairs-story, but they were never allowed to speak to me alone and after I got out of the hospital I only managed to call them once before they crashed their car into a tree on their way to work. I didn't want to think about that day either, because I worried that my quick phone call the day before the crash was what caused their deaths; and those thoughts led to sure madness. I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off and looked at my reflection in the mirror. God, how I hated the perfect shape of my face, my dark red lips, my large, blue eyes and my softly curling blonde hair. I hated my high breasts, thin waist and slightly wider hips. I hated the way my body seemed to call out for attention and admiration. I hated everything that had made the golden boy of the Bannister family take a notice of me. With a shake of my head I cursed both at the foolish, romantic girl I had been thirteen years ago and at the bitter, angry woman I had now become. I walked out into my bedroom, got dressed and started my daily schedule, following the strict instructions I had been given as closely as I could; my only goal in life to live through another day without giving the family any room for annoyance; sadly aware that words would always be used to hurt me but hoping that the sticks and stones could be held off for yet another day. - - - - - A couple of weeks passed by and my inner turmoil began showing on the outside, perhaps not visible to everyone but still enough to make two of my friends throw worried looks my way. Mary even called to ask what was wrong and in one moment of weakness I actually thought about telling her. I stopped myself just in time and managed to tell her something about being tired and perhaps coming down with the flu. It wasn't the flu that made it difficult for me to breathe though, but bruises that were covering great parts of my upper body. Sometimes it didn't matter how closely you followed every instruction or how swiftly you responded to every command; sometimes you were just a vent to help relieve pressure after a frustrating day. I walked slowly around the garden, blinking back tears and thinking about the many different ways a person could be hurt by someone willing to put some real thought and effort into it. The purely physical part of domestic violence really wasn't the part that hurt the most; you could always find ways of sealing yourself off, of going to your happy place. Words usually hurt more, especially if the person delivering the words made sure he had your full attention. But what really hurt the most was the way that a really manipulative person would let you have something in your life that you really liked or loved, something that could later be taken away as a punishment or just as a proof of his powers over you. Over the years the wedding picture of my mother and father's, my mother's favorite necklace, a beautiful painting and several other things had been used that way to shake my world and break my spirit. And my tears now were not for my physical injuries but for the way my gardening shed had been trashed along with the distillation equipment and every single bottle of etheric oil I had managed to produce. I figured I had now hit rock bottom. There wasn't anything left that could be broken or taken away. I sat down slowly on a stone bench that couldn't be seen from the house and wrapped my arms around myself as I started weeping with big gulping sobs. My mother's favorite songs that I used so frequently in times of need would not help with this level of grief; no woman, no cry; everything's gonna be alright... My heart almost stopped as I felt something warm and wet touch the hand that I had let fall by the side of the bench. I quickly opened my eyes to the sight of a big dog with golden fur that had somehow gotten into the garden and was sitting beside me, leaning his head slightly to the side as if he was wondering why I was sitting there alone, crying. He leaned in and pressed his nose to my hand once again and then pushed his head underneath my hand as if to say 'please pat me'. I let my hand stroke his soft fur and wondered what magic had sent him my way. "Here boy!" I could hear from the other side of the hedge, answering the question of where the dog had come from. The dog seemed content to sit beside me, my hand now stroking his back with slow movements. Listening to the calls from the other side and thinking about what might happen if my husband saw the dog I decided to walk over my next-door neighbor and bring the dog with me. I rose and walked away and the dog obligingly followed. The house next door wasn't quite as big as the one I lived in, but much more simple and charming. It was probably one of the smallest houses in the neighborhood, but still a good-sized one. I followed the sound of the man calling for the dog and walked further into a garden that was filled with flowers of every shape, form, color and smell. If the house was charming the garden was absolutely, stunningly beautiful. After turning around the corner of the house I saw the man who was calling for the dog, a friendly looking man with white hair, creased clothes and dirt under his nails. A man that sounded younger than the probably seventy years and then some that his face told me he was. He saw me approaching followed by his dog and started smiling widely. "Alfred, you big goof," he said "why did you run off like that? Was it because you met this lovely lady?" I smiled back, aware that my face probably showed all the signs of my short crying spell. "Hello," I said "my name is Rose and I live next door. This gentleman came walking just a few minutes ago and I thought perhaps it was him you might be missing." "Yes," the man answered "this if Alfred, my best friend and companion, and you can call me Edward or Ed for short." He reached his hand out just a little bit too fast which made me tense and draw myself back half a step before I finally reached out to shake his hand. His face went from happy to worried and back to happy again quickly enough for me to think that perhaps I had imagined the sad frown on his forehead. He asked me if I wanted to stay for a cup of tea but I shook my head and started walking back through the hedge, back to life as I knew it. * * * * * I saw her walking round and around in the garden next door, noting the way her steps were slower than they usually were, that she was leaning slightly to the left and that she was dragging her right foot somewhat. I had been watching her over the past few months, first just happily contemplating her loveliness, seeing her as just another beautiful flower to be admired from afar, then later reading her body language and trying to figure out what was bothering me about the lovely picture she made. It shouldn't have taken me this long to figure out the answer to why she made me feel uneasy. I knew the signs well, both from personal and professional experience. I also knew that stepping in, telling her what I knew and trying to offer her my help would probably just send her off running. She walked slowly to the shady corner of her garden, hidden from the eyes of the world, and I cursed my inability to come up with a plan to help her. I walked downstairs and was greeted by Alfred, happily chewing on one of his favorite shoes. When he saw me heading towards the door he gave a low bark and followed me out, waving his tail to me as he ran past and started smelling his way through the garden. I looked at Alfred's joyful explorations and sat down on the steps, leaning my head in my hands. There must be something that I can do, I thought to myself. Perhaps...? I jumped up and walked into the house to get a certain well-chewed old sneaker. Alfred saw me coming, carrying his favorite toy, and followed me gladly towards the back of our house. I tossed the shoe into the garden next door and saw Alfred follow it in there. I quickly walked back to the front of the house and started waiting. It was a long shot, but Alfred liked people and people liked Alfred, so it might at least give me a chance to say "hello". I waited for five long minutes before I started calling for my dog, using every "come here" expression I could think of, except for the one I knew would actually make him come. I didn't have to wait for very long before the woman came walking, closely followed by a happy dog. When she saw me she seemed to automatically straighten and correct her posture and walk and as she greeted me her face was covered by a lovely smile. Of course I could tell she had been crying, but there was no other sign of weakness, sadness or any other emotion but happy friendliness. I saw her twitch as I reached my hand out to shake hers, but her hand was steady as she gripped mine in a firm handshake. This is a woman who knows how to hide her secrets, I thought to myself as she walked away. Determined to find out the truth behind her perfect smile I walked into the house to make plans. I looked at the sweet still slightly puppyish Alfred, sure that he would be glad to help me make friends with the lovely lady next door. Flower Ch. 02 Surprisingly many days had passed by without any major incidents and I was happy that I managed to keep my normal schedule, that I succeeded in doing all the things I was told to do, the right way and on time, even though I was stuck in thoughts almost all the time. I went through the motions, responding to input more or less automatically – probably very like those years when I hadn't really been there fully, my days in the gray mist – hoping that my upset thoughts about the world, my life and love as I knew it wouldn't be picked up by my husband and his family. Some days I found myself making great plans for my future life, plans that somehow always fell short when it came to the first part, the actual escape. Other days I read online stories about abused women, the descriptions of their lives turning my stomach and bringing tears to my eyes. The planning and the stories about the women who had actually gotten away gave me a sense of purpose and made me want to live and fight another day and then another. I realized that no story was exactly alike and that there was no such thing as "normally" or "usually" when it came to hurtful, abusive relationships and domestic violence, but I thought I could detect some common points that painted parts of a pattern. Many stories described the prince charming effect, where a seriously attentive male would turn your head just as much as what other people were saying about him, him being the catch of a lifetime. In most of the stories you could read, at least between the lines, that the woman being wooed felt inferior to the man in one way or the other, which made for an imbalanced relationship from the beginning; making the woman strive extra hard to please and appease the man. Once love and devotion had taken its hold, the serious game of making the woman doubt herself and trust the man would ensue and the most important part, getting rid of the woman's social network, making her cut all ties to her family and friends would be done as quickly as possible. Once isolated the woman would be made to believe she was to blame for what happened to her. My story didn't really fit into the pattern I detected, except the first part where I met and fell in love with an attractive and charming man. I didn't really feel inferior to my husband, he hadn't been able to make me doubt myself fully or make me believe that his punishments were fair, and above all – I still had my friends. I started thinking that if my mom and dad hadn't died in that car crash, I might actually have gotten away. As it was, my grief for my parents had somehow done what those first weeks of mental and physical abuse hadn't been able to do, it had turned me into a non-feeling shadow of myself that could be easily controlled and directed, like a living, breathing doll. Was it a blessing or a curse to be back in the land of the living? I really couldn't say... - - - - - "Crap," I whispered as I scanned the long list of unread e-mails on my phone "why do I keep getting this spiritual guidance, yoga, meditation crap in my mailbox?" I had started getting annoyingly many spam e-mails, all with the same "find your true self/inner beauty" message. I wondered what page I had visited or what e-mail list service I had signed up for that had my mailbox exploding with unwanted messages. I wasn't even interested in that new age stuff. I sat in the beauty parlor, muttering to myself and tapping on my phone, waiting for my once-a-week overhaul. When I had walked in just a few minutes earlier I had been informed that my beautician was running a bit late and I knew I had at least ten more minutes to wait. The weak tea I had been given interested me as little as the shiny magazines in front of me so I settled down with my phone, deciding to read some of the messages before deleting them, needing to keep busy to still the restless energy that was running through my body. After quickly reading a few of the e-mails I realized that most of them seemed to be from local businesses. There was a yoga place just down the street, a regression specialist, whatever that meant, three blocks away and some sort of tarot card reader/fortune teller just a few blocks further away. The next two were from two different massage parlors, also in the neighborhood. I stopped reading and thought about that idea for a while; some help soothing my tense muscles wouldn't go amiss, would it? I looked at the prices and deleted the messages quickly just as I had done with the first ones; no use dreaming about things you couldn't afford. I ruthlessly deleted all of the messages until I reached the last one, where the subject caught my eye. According to the electronic information there was supposed to be a "Spiritual Wellness" exhibition that exact day, just one block away from the beauty parlor. I was struck by an impulsive thought, that perhaps seeing a few new things might show me new ways of solving my personal puzzle. And if I didn't get any new ideas, perhaps I could get some free advice on how to grow stronger both mentally and physically? My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of my beautician. "Rose, I'm so sorry you had to wait!" she said as she walked towards me with quick steps. As a high priority client I was one of a handful of people that actually got the services of this particular beautician; seeing that she was both extremely skilled and that she was the actual owner of the parlor. I had a standing appointment with her every week, my beauty an investment that had to be well cared for, according to the family. I smiled at her and nodded with a short "Gabriella" thrown back at her, happy that she used my first name when she approached. I had asked her to call me Rose many years ago, but it had taken her a long time to agree. I remembered the day she had first called me Rose with mixed feelings of sadness and relief, since it was also the first time she had accidently seen some lingering bruises on my body. I followed her into her luxurious rooms and sat down in the soft and comfortable chair in the corner, waiting for her standard comment about the frequency with which I visited her. "You know you don't have to come here every week, don't you?" she said with her accompanying smile. I smiled back at her and shook my head, knowing that she didn't expect me to answer. I looked at the dark haired, middle aged beauty before me, seeing her flawless skin that still had no visible wrinkles, even though she was perhaps 15 years, or more, older than I was. I looked at my own face in the mirror shortly before turning my eyes away, glad that my age was not yet showing and still annoyed about the way my looks had brought me nothing but trouble. "Facial and nails then, as usual?" she asked me. I nodded, leaned back in the chair and was carefully tilted backwards. I closed my eyes, lay back and tried to relax as much as it was possible for me when someone was touching me. My body was always on alert, the built-in fight or flight reflex constantly working overtime. Although Gabriella's touch was very soft in every step of the beautifying process, I could still feel myself twitch when she came in contact with my skin. I didn't want to see the worried look in her eyes that I knew was there so I kept my eyes closed, pretending a calm that neither of us really believed in. My mind started spinning the thoughts that had been circling in there for weeks, somehow hoping that the answers to my questions – the how's and when's – would magically appear. I needed to get away, to be able to get away I needed money and before I could get away I needed to find a way to protect my friends. The only way I could protect anyone from the almost all-seeing power of the family was if I could find someone who was even more powerful. And those kinds of persons didn't really grow on trees did they? And if I found a man with that much power wouldn't that be like going from bad to worse? More power probably meaning an even stronger need to have things under complete control. After the notion to run away had hit me that morning a few weeks ago, apart from reading stories about abused women, I had also started reading everything I could about "normal" – as in non-abusive – broken relationships and divorces. I realized that most women seemed to use a new partner as a sort lever to be able to extract themselves from their old, tired relationships, somehow finding the strength to break things up and the needed support in their new, loving companionship. So yes, if I could find myself a powerful, gentle, loving person who would give me all the support I needed to be able to get away from my current life, then everything would be just great. And Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy would probably be walking beside him, hand in hand, singing a medley of their favorite songs about everlasting love and happiness. I just barely managed to hold back a snorted, slightly bitter laugh at the colorful images in my mind. I thought about the idea of love and happiness and wondered if I still had the ability to believe in even the concept of such a thing. Well yes, perhaps I did, because I was still able to feel happy for people that fell in love around me. I thought about Sarah who had just recently found that "special someone" she had always dreamed of and the way my heart warmed as she told us about him, her cheeks red and her eyes shining. So yes, I still believed, as only a true romantic can, but the idea that I would be able to find someone I could love, who would love me back this time, was just too unbelievable. I figured that the damage done to both my body and my psyche was too big. The way my body reacted to loud sounds, to someone moving too fast or to a simple touch of a hand was almost as disturbing as the way my mind seemed to see dangers everywhere I went and the way I considered every new person I met an enemy. The simple fact that the first thought to surface at every casual meeting was "how will this person hurt me" didn't exactly fill my life with song, laughter and cheerfulness. When Gabriella had just finished my facial treatment she was called away for some skin condition emergency and I rose from the chair and walked around her office. A table in the far corner was covered by colorful pamphlets and I walked over, still feeling the need to keep busy. Amongst the various beautician and hair dresser brochures and business cards I found information about yoga classes and health clubs, massage parlors and meditation classes, and it made me feel slightly shaken; the same information coming from several different sources at the same time, was the Universe trying to tell me something? Just as I picked up a brochure that looked kind of familiar, Gabriella walked back into her office, apologizing for leaving me with quick words accompanied by equally quick steps as she walked up to me. She looked down at the paper in my hand, smiled and asked me if I wanted to be released early so I could go. Confused I looked down and realized I was holding information about the exhibition I had been reading about just half an hour earlier. "Whaa... no, I don't think... I should," I answered, my voice low and a bit tense "and you still have to do my nails..." I sat down in the chair again and Gabriella shrugged and looked at my nails, scanning them for imperfections. She then pulled out a bottle of nail polish, the same color as the week before, and proceeded in painting those few spots that were a bit chipped; not removing, brushing, polishing and painting as she usually did. She put the cap on the bottle, looked me in the eyes and started talking. "Now, your nails are done... and there's plenty of time to get your skinny butt to that exhibition!" I shook my head and felt my shoulders tensing, frustrated because I knew that even if I might pride myself at not being completely controlled by my husband, I was still afraid of his anger, the anger that would likely surge if he knew I didn't follow his directions, which clearly stated that I had to get the full weekly treatment at that specific beauty parlor. The thought of what might happen if I snuck away had my body trembling. I forced my body to still with great effort, but not before Gabriella had been able to notice my involuntary reaction. She jumped up and started walking back and forth in the room, waving her hands agitatedly and speaking angrily in Spanish. I let my eyes follow her movements, forcing myself to take long, slow breaths to prevent what felt like a panic attack. Gabriella looked up at me and as she saw my probably deathly pale face she gasped and quickly stopped her pacing. She shook her head, walked up to one of the walls and pulled back a curtain, uncovering a door. She pointed at the door and started talking. "This is what I propose," she started "as of today, this is your escape hatch. Every time you come here, you get either a facial or your nails done, and then you use this door to get away for an hour or, if we're quick about it, an hour and a half." I stared at her with wide eyes, slowly grasping what she was saying. "The money I get from your husband for that last hour I will split in two," she continued "one part is for you to use when you go out that door every Thursday, the other part I will keep here in a box for you to use when you've decided what you're going to do. And so help me God, you are going to do something about your situation, and soon!" I kept staring at her, shocked by what she was saying. Why would someone I didn't even know that well be willing to help me both by giving me some precious free time and by giving me money to spend on myself and a possible escape plan? "Why?" I whispered with tears in my eyes. "Because of my sister, Isabella," she whispered back, her eyes blank from unshed tears "who didn't survive the hell that her husband gave her. Because I didn't see it then even though all the signs were there. And because I promised myself that I would try to help any woman that needed my help, if I saw the signs again, and if she was receptive to the idea. And my dear, this is the first time I have seen you receptive to any type of idea." "But, the money?" I asked, my voice low and worried. "The money? You mean your husband's money? That you will be using to get away from him? I agree that it's not really a fair compensation for what he's done, but it's a start anyway!" I shook my head, overwhelmed by emotions; eternally grateful that she was offering me her help, feeling both excited about and scared of my future. I was sad because she had lost her sister but happy that she had seen me and that she had given me the chance to take this first step towards a better future. I stood on slightly shaking legs, walked up to her and hugged her awkwardly. It seemed that hugging didn't quite come as naturally to me as it had done in my childhood. After holding me close for just a short moment she walked towards the door and opened it for me. "Ok, it's time for you to walk one short block to that exhibition. Be free, and find something you would like to do for yourself. If there's a class that you'd like to take I can easily switch your scheduled time so you can fit it into your secret, free hour. Anything, at any time!" I removed the robe I was wearing to protect my clothes, straightened my short sleeved dress and took first one hesitant step towards freedom, then another and another until I stood outdoors on a small side-street. A smile tickled the corners of my mouth as I felt something blossoming inside my chest; the almost completely forgotten feeling of hope. - - - - - I walked around the exhibition area, trying to keep under the radar, to not get pulled in by the sales people – which, despite being dressed slightly different from usual sellers, was in truth what the smiling people standing behind the tables were. Trying to understand what they all had to offer without stopping was a bit difficult, but after I had circled the place three times, I was beginning to get a better idea about what services, and in some places what products, most of them could provide. Between two yoga specialists, I had spotted a small table where two smiling women were handing out a simple brochure that I had managed to read had something to do with mental training. Since they weren't grabby or clingy, I stepped up to them, was given the simple folded paper and walked away. The brochure had information about several different classes, anything from help to self-help and mental strength to active presence and breathing exercises. What caught my eye was a description of one specific class that was to be started in one week's time, where the aim was to give you tools to help overcome difficulties in your everyday life, be it unemployment, illness or grief after losing a loved one. You would be taught mental training exercises, meditation techniques and other things that would help you heal and grow stronger. Didn't that sound exactly what I was looking for, what I needed? Something that would make me stronger, something that might help me figure out how to get away from my husband without causing other people any lasting difficulties. I looked at the price and that short bit of hope left me. I had just enough money to buy myself a glass of wine every Thursday evening. Everything else – like my weekly appointment at the beauty parlor – was prepaid or invoiced, all my clothes were bought by some shopping consultant, my jewelry was locked up where I couldn't get to it; I was being held on a tight leash, emotionally, financially, completely. Even with the money I had been promised by Gabriella, I wouldn't be able to pay the fee for the class, not if I had to pay it all up front, before the class began. I rejected a passing thought about asking one of my friends for money, I really didn't want to answer the questions that would follow that request. Why would one of their richest acquaintances need money from them? What if they started asking questions and my husband heard about it? I wasn't really sure if I was trying to save face or trying to actually, physically save my face, but there you had it, I didn't dare ask them for help, I just didn't. A surprising burst of anger flowed through my system, I couldn't give up when I was this close. I turned back towards the smiling women, walked up to them and before I could hesitate I asked them if it was possible to pay a weekly fee instead of paying the full sum at the start of the class. Their answering yes put a smile on my face again and without hesitation I signed up for twelve weeks of learning how to move on with my life. My steps felt lighter when I walked back towards the beauty parlor. I had hope, I had a beginning of a plan and I had someone I could lean on; everything that I hadn't had when I woke up that morning, and even just one of those things would be enough to really make a difference. - - - - - After I got home, I took my daily walk in the garden. With every – still lighter than usual – step, I took deep, calm breaths of air, feeling my body grow slightly more relaxed than what was usually the case. Somehow it felt like the air was warmer than just a few hours ago and as my walk took me further into the garden, the colorful flowers that surrounded me looked brighter and smelled so much sweeter than before. With my face turned away from the house I let out a short laughter, amused by the amazing effect that some hope and happiness had on my perceptions. I sat down in my favorite spot in the garden, that far corner where I couldn't be seen from the house. I just wanted a moment to enjoy the newly awakened feelings that were running through my body; a moment where I didn't have to constantly think about keeping a calm façade, just a few minutes of happiness. Flower Ch. 02 I closed my eyes, kept taking those long, calm breaths and let my thoughts run through what had happened in just one short day. I forced myself to concentrate on the new and positive things in my life, but could feel threads of niggling doubt twining around it all and a black spike of fear piercing its way through the center. What would happen to me if I was discovered? I thought about what could possibly happen, realizing that what could happen had already happened hundreds of times before. It didn't make me less scared, but that just wasn't enough for me to stop the plans I had made. I felt my body relax again as I leaned back and let thoughts about a happier future fill my mind. My mother used to say that as long as there was life, there was hope; and even if I was broken in so many ways, I was still very much alive. I was woken from my thoughts by a low "wroof" and opened my eyes to an adorably smiling dog, his mouth open and tongue hanging out; he really was a big goof. He treaded closer and pushed his head under my hand again, letting me know it was yet again time for me to pet him. A woman would have had to be made of stone to refuse, so I just laughed and started stroking his fur and scratching his head. There was something about that dog that made you want to pick him up and hug him all day long. After a good while of stroking and talking to him with silly, gooey-wooey words, that's almost what happened as we ended up side by side on the stone bench, his head in my lap and my fingers slowly running through his golden fur. I closed my eyes again and let dog generated calm and happiness spread through my body. I opened my eyes slowly and stretched my body lazily, wondering what had woken me from my short snooze when the sound of a man calling for his dog gave me the answer. I eased myself up from my stone seat and Alfred jumped down and followed me as I walked towards his home. Once again I walked through Edward and Alfred's lovely garden, and with my senses still extra sensitive it was even more like walking through a small bit of paradise; the flowers, the colors, the sweet fragrances! I walked slowly through the garden, letting my fingers caress some of the flowers, breathing in heavily, as if trying to suck the essence of it all into my own being. Once again I could feel my face smiling, a natural, uncomplicated smile, here in this lovely place where no artifice was needed. Minutes later, when we met Edward as he walked around his house, my smile still lingered and I made no effort to put on my public persona mask. There was something about that day, the garden, the dog and the man which made me feel safe enough to be plain old Rose, if only for a short while. I greeted Edward with a "Hello, look who found his way into my garden again" and when I was invited in for some tea, I impulsively answered yes. I saw the same surprise in Edwards eyes as was probably in my own; it was in truth a strange day. * * * * * The fact that I was now consciously looking out through my window the same time every day, watching for signs of the sad beauty in the next door garden, made me aware of my stalker-like tendencies; but I had convinced myself that I was doing it for the right reasons. Besides, at my age, it was normal to be a busybody, at least if I had been a woman. I was worriedly scanning her every day for signs of new injuries and on the few days she didn't make an appearance I felt sick in my heart and soul, as my mind started spinning thoughts of her untimely demise. This really couldn't be considered a healthy behavior, I knew that, but since there was nothing else I could do I kept standing there, like an idiot, unable to come up with a plan to save her. I knew that the anxiety I was feeling was enhanced by my own life experiences, mainly the fact that I had been a witness to and sometimes a victim of violence in my own home environment as I grew up. My father had been an outwardly mild and calm man, who turned into an angry and violent man as soon as he drank too much of the whiskey he loved. My mother had of course been the foremost victim of his violent nature, but once in a while, me or my kid brother would also be given the full attention of his angry hands. Once I was out of the house, studying to become a doctor, I didn't come back home as often as I should have, and as the years moved on and my father grew older I suspect that the violence became more frequent. My mother died from cancer a few years later, which sent me into a deep spiral of grief, but I still regretted that I didn't help my brother to get away from that house, right there and then. Based on things that happened later on, I suspected that my brother was treated even worse from that day on. My kid brother, ten years younger than I was, a gentle soul in a tall and strong body; with the beauty of my mother and the strength of my father. I remembered that I tried to protect him, so he wouldn't hear my father yelling or see my mother crying. And then in the end I just left him there, unprotected, as I went off to become the great doctor, the best healer that the modern world could provide. After my father died, or even before he did, my brother and I grew apart. My brother started a family with a wife and a beautiful son, who I met on a few occasions. I was practicing medicine, saving the world one patient at a time and I didn't have or take time to get to know my closest family. When I turned 45, I met the love of my life, we married – the invitation I sent to my brother remained unanswered – and started a simple, calm and loving life together. When we found out that we couldn't have children, we were sad for a long time, and I tried reaching out to my brother, thinking that having him and his family close would make up for not having children of our own, but my brother turned all of my attempts away with angry words. In the end my life was filled with the stressful days of being a doctor and the peaceful evenings and weekends with my wife and the garden that we both loved. I suspect that the flowers become our children, as we pampered and cared for every colorful specimen. And now I had found another beautiful flower to care for, I thought as my neighbor finally made an appearance, and the pressure around my chest lifted slightly, leaving me free to finally take a deep breath. She was alive, and if my eyes were not mistaken, in good form – with no visible ailments. With decided steps I walked downstairs calling out for Alfred. I was going to get to know the lovely Rose, and I was going to help her, whether she wanted me to or not! With the help of a well-chewed sneaker, I sent my furry helper into the garden next door, hoping that the trick that worked so well the last time would bring her back once more. Perhaps if I let Alfred stay with her just a little while longer than before, she might be willing to sit down and chat for a while and perhaps drink a cup of tea? With giddy but nervous excitement running through my body I forced myself to sit down, wait and think about what I would say to her so she knew I wanted to, no – needed to, help her. It wouldn't be good to tell her I saw her walking every day, but perhaps I could tell her that I had seen her pain the last time we met and that it had made me worry. And the fact that I was a doctor, albeit no longer practicing, should reassure her, shouldn't it? After deciding on a good enough starting point, I started thinking about my brother again and the time when I hadn't been there for him and later on, when I hadn't been there for his family, when history repeated itself, when the beaten became the beater. I remembered the angry teenage boy who had confronted me at his mother's funeral, telling me the truth about his mother's life spent as a punching ball. I did then for him what I should have done those many years ago for my brother; I made sure my nephew would never have to set foot in the same house as his father ever again. I wish I had done more and much earlier, then perhaps I could have saved my brother as well; as it was he died a few years later, hitting his head in a brawl at the local pub, after drinking the whiskey that his father used to love. I pulled myself out of my memories, thinking about my nephew, whishing that I had a much closer relationship with him than I currently had. We talked on the phone at least once a week, but we hadn't met in a while, and talking about feelings or other deeper thoughts wasn't something we really did over the phone. Something had to be done about that too, I decided as I stood up and prepared to start calling for Alfred. "Here boy!" I called, with a short, low laugh at the excitement shooting through my belly. My, this was just as exciting as real fishing with a hook and a line. I called for Alfred a couple of more times, waited a little while longer and then walked slowly around the corner of the house. I paused when I saw her walking through my garden, stopping to smell one flower here and caressing another flower there, taking her time, enjoying herself, a smile on her face. Alfred was happily following her around, eagerly waiting for her attention to turn back to him, which it did from time to time as she spoke to him in a low voice and brushed her hand across his back. She finally turned her steps towards me and I walked up to greet her. She smiled her beautiful smile and told me she'd found Alfred in her garden again. Once again I offered her tea and my company, and this time – surprise of all surprises – she accepted my invitation. I quickly led the way into my house and saw her seated at my kitchen table before I started the short process of making us both some tea. I kept looking at her out of the corner of my eye and saw her run her eyes over my kitchen, saw her puzzled look when she noticed my wife's collection of female fertility symbols on one small shelf in the corner and saw her lifted eyebrows when she took in the framed paintings of flower upon flower, also curtesy of my dear, departed spouse. The kitchen was filled with all of the things we had collected over the years, that room – the heart of the home – lovingly filled with all of the things we cherished, to make sure – as my wife had put it – that we got to start and end every day surrounded by happy memories. And I cherished those memories even more now, after having spent the past three years without my sweet, beloved Sally. "My wife and I spent most of our time together here in the kitchen or out in the garden, and as you can probably tell, flowers and gardening was one of her passions" I said and nodded towards the colorful wall Rose had been looking curiously at. "I can tell," she answered with a crooked smile "both by the paintings and book collection, and by the way your beautiful garden looks... and feels." I nodded as I poured hot water into the large, black tea pot that I hadn't used since my wife lived. I silently watched as the water covered the tea leaves, realizing that I hadn't thought of my wife this much in a long time. The sadness still lingered but the sharp pain of sorrow had been dulled; it no longer felt like my life had ended when Sally had been taken from me. I quickly made the table with cups, biscuits and tea and sat down in front of my guest. I poured the tea and nodded towards the wall behind her. "The wall behind you is covered by some of my memories." I told her and saw her turn around and stare at the collection of old posters, medical literature and, yes, there were some flowers there too. A sixty-year-old picture of my family was carefully placed in the center of my collection, mostly as a reminder of where I came from and the importance of taking care of the people around you. Beside it a picture of an angry teenage boy made sure I would never forget. "As you can probably tell I used to practice medicine," I told her with a smile when she turned her face back towards me "and though it was hard work, I loved every second of it. When I met my wife she taught me to enjoy other things as well, flowers, gardening... and tea." She sipped her tea and looked up at me, a true, sincere smile covering her face. "My mother loved tea as well," she told me, her eyes soft and warm, stuck in memories as I had just been "she used to say it warmed your heart as well as your body. I haven't had a good cup of tea in years and years." I contemplated the way her lovely face seemed relaxed and that her smile was so entirely different from the last time I had met her. She seemed almost peaceful, and I wondered if I had been wrong in my assumptions about her life. In that instant the loud sound of a chair falling over in the hallway, as Alfred came bouncing in, made her tense up. Her shoulders rose high, her fists tightened, her face grew white and her eyes flashed with fear. No – I hadn't been wrong. Like a heat-seeking missile, Alfred walked up to her, pushing his head under her right arm, lifting it up and putting his head under her hand, making sure he had her attention. When she felt his warm, soft fur under her hand, the tension seemed to seep away almost instantly and it wasn't long before a hesitant smile covered her face again. It seemed that my dear dog knew just what to do, whilst I still worried about even where to start. "So, now you know I'm a doctor," I told her, keeping my voice low and calm "and that means that I'm used to seeing all kinds of diseases... and injuries. I don't want to send you off running, but I have to tell you that I could sense that something was wrong when we met the other day. You were hurting, a lot, weren't you?" She tensed up again, but not as much as before, my words probably buffered by Alfred's efforts at keeping her hands busy, making sure that she kept running her fingers lovingly through his fur. When she looked up at me, it seemed that her eyes were filled with a storm of feelings, fear, anguish and pain and for a short moment I regretted sending her into that pool of misery. I took her quick nod as an acknowledgement, and decided to push on. "I'm not going to tell you my complete life story but, in short, I watched my mother live through the hell that I think you're living in right now. And I wanted to tell you that I'm here for you, and I want to help you if you'd let me?" She stood up and looked at me, tears in her eyes. She shook her head and started walking out of the kitchen and for every step she took away from me I felt hope slipping away. I looked at her, desperately searching for something to say that could possibly make her stay, but drawing up blank. Before I could call her name she turned around and looked at me, tears streaming down her face. "Right now... I can't..." she whispered "such a strange day... thank you!" I watched her walk out my door, her words enough to yet again fill me with hope. It was a weak and trembling sort of hope, but enough to keep my mind busy once again, trying to come up with plans to help her, to save her – before it was too late. Flower Ch. 03 Nervous excitement filled my entire body as the following Thursday approached. I was beginning to doubt my ability to hold all of my feelings sealed behind my strict and appropriately haughty, but still always smiling, demeanor, but somehow the days passed by without anyone confronting or correcting me. It was a busy week with elite socializing, and I kept smiling, hugging and kissing my way through any number of people. I could tell that my husband was especially preoccupied, and I guessed that there was something critical going on at work. At one point I also accidently overheard my father yelling at him, but I couldn't hear enough to be able figure out was going on. I was just happy to be let off easy, without having him take all of his frustrations out on me, one way or the other. I still had moments of doubt, where my body seized up in absolute panic when I thought about the small bit of subterfuge I was planning, but most of the time I found myself certain of the way that lay ahead. I was hoping that that last piece of the puzzle, how to get my friends away from my husband's vicious claws, would somehow come to me as everything else had almost magically done. I now had two people to turn to for help, and perhaps if I talked to them some more, we could come up with a plan for my friends. Or perhaps the class I was taking would actually give me ideas, as well as mental strength and courage. I hadn't gone back to visit my neighbor - Edward - and Alfred, the sweet dog, hadn't come to see me again either. And that was just as well, as I was still shaken by what the old man had said and what he had offered. My spirit was high as I walked towards the beauty parlor, but just as I was about to cross the last bit of road, I was pushed violently out into the traffic, just barely managing to avoid being hit by a car that came to a screeching stop. I managed to stay upright, but had to fight to get my balance back. What in the world? I turned around to see who had pushed me, but could only see a darkly dressed man some distance away, could it have been him? Or was I mistaken about the push, did I in fact only stumble on my own two feet? I waved the thoughts of someone purposely trying to hurt me away, it was probably just my overwrought mind playing games on me. When the man who had stopped for me drove away with an annoyed bleep from his horn, I continued walking towards my goal, to get some gloss on my exterior before strengthening my interior; a well-balanced effort indeed. I was greeted at the door by a smiling Gabriella, who quickly brought me into her room and pushed me down into the chair, excitedly talking about the class I was taking, telling me that she'd make sure I was on time. She looked at my face quickly and nodded to herself before sitting down to take care of my nails. I don't think I had ever seen her move quite as quickly as she removed my nail polish, filed my nails, fixed my cuticles and applied two layers of new polish. She skipped the whole bathe, sooth, moisturize and pamper part of the hand and nail treatment, but that was just fine with me. Whilst the nail polish was drying she even cleaned and moisturized my skin, basically giving me the important parts of my usual treatment in less than half the time. With a wide smile she opened the door for me and I walked off, her money safely secured in my purse, planning to enjoy every second of the free time she had given me. As my steps took me closer and closer, I bit my lip nervously, worrying about the people I would meet, just then realizing that there might be a chance, although a small one, that I would meet someone I knew. One of the smiling women from the exhibition was there to meet the small group of people that were the participants of the class and as I scanned the people around me my relief was great as I saw that there was no one there that I knew. I paid the weekly fee and was led into a room painted in warm colors, where a smiling man was waiting for us to get settled on chairs that stood in a semi-circle around him. We were a group of twelve women, and as we introduced ourselves it became obvious that we all had our own set of difficulties to overcome, but that we were all joined in a strong belief that this class would be what we needed to kick start our journey towards a better life. When it was time for me to introduce myself and list what I expected the class to help me with I struggled with the words, and in the end I found myself describing the high stress levels and the constant tension in my body, telling the class that I needed help with stress relief and relaxation techniques. It was as close as I felt I could go towards describing my life, having not yet dared to tell anyone about it, not my closest friends, nor Gabriella or Edward. Perhaps I would be able to tell someone about it someday, I just wasn't sure how many weeks filled with strengthening exercises that would take, hundreds? Those first two hours passed really quickly and after the introductions and general description of what was to come in the next few weeks, we only had time for one short relaxation and breathing exercise. Still, I felt both calmer and stronger as I walked out of there, as well as stuck in thoughts about when and where to use the exercise we'd been taught, perhaps when I took my daily walk in the garden? I was torn from my thoughts by someone tugging at my purse before I was pushed hard from behind. I screamed and fought to stay upright, but another even harder push sent me flying into the street, still clutching my purse, but not much helped by that, since it wouldn't precisely protect me from the cars that were flowing down the street. I closed my eyes and braced myself for impact, when I was suddenly yanked hard by my clothes back onto the sidewalk. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to absolutely nothing. I turned around and saw a police officer running after a darkly dressed man, guessing that I had found both my assailant and my savior. My breath and ability to think came back to me all at once and I sat down hard on the sidewalk, probably bruising my butt in the process, but not really capable of caring about that. One push into the street could be accidental, but two? My ability to breathe left me again as my body went into instant panic mode, was somebody trying to kill me? I wrapped my arms around myself as my body went from frozen solid to shaking uncontrollably. There was only one person that had any interest in me dying, wasn't there? I turned my face to the side quickly and proceeded in being violently sick, on the sidewalk, in the middle of the day, in the city I had lived in all my life. "Are you ok, miss?" a deep voice asked me as I dried my face on a corner of my expensive jacket. "No, I suspect I'm not..." I mumbled before I looked up to see a tall, dark shape looking down at me; the police officer had returned. I looked behind the tall, dark-haired man and although I wasn't surprised he hadn't caught the bad guy, I can't say I wasn't disappointed. Perhaps if he had been caught I could have gotten some answers? Two strong hands took a hold of my arms and pulled me upright in one fast movement, giving me no time to react with either surprise or fear. I stared at the man in front of me and saw him running his eyes over me quickly, probably in an attempt to see if I was injured. His eyes were a warm, golden-brown tone, that somehow grew increasingly colder as he took in my appearance. "You know, you have to be careful, there are thieves everywhere. And if you walk around in designer clothes and jewelry, you're bound to be targeted, no matter what time of day. This time you were lucky, but the next time..." he said, his generous mouth tightening around the almost angry words that were pouring out of him. "You better get your pretty self back into the limousine where you came from!" he continued before turning around to walk away. I'm not sure what made me reach out and grab his arm, but when he stopped and turned back towards me there was something about the way he looked at me that spurred my anger. "You have no idea what you're talking about," I whispered "you judge simply by what you see, but you know nothing about me, absolutely nothing!" I let him go and walked away, angry tears running down my face. The flow of tears was still going strong as I walked back into Gabriella's office and even though I told her about the way I had been pushed into the street, I didn't tell her about the police officer, I just didn't know how to explain my explosive reaction to his behavior. With the help of some vodka and a cold, wet towel I was able to pull myself together enough to tell Gabriella I'd be back next week, before straightening my clothes and walking out of the beauty parlor, intent on making it home on time. I forced myself to think of nothing except taking step after step towards our house, walking being my preferred choice of traveling the short distance I needed to go. As I opened the door to my home I wondered if my husband would be surprised to see me that afternoon. I took a deep breath, straightened my back and closed the heavy door to my prison, intent on letting no signs of what had happened show on my face or in my actions. - - - - - I spent a nervous week, waiting anxiously for my husband to confront me about my secret activities. Every time I left the house I also waited for something more to happen and kept glancing over my shoulder every time I went near a street. By the time Thursday came rolling along again I was a tense, nervous wreck, in deep need of some relaxation and I didn't hesitate more than a few seconds before I left Gabriella's office. Week two had us lying comfortably on mats on the floor of the classroom as we were guided into a meditative state and then walked through a house with different-colored chambers. Some of my rooms were empty, some had things in them and many of them made me feel slightly sick to my stomach. When we were asked if we wanted to share anything from our first meditation experience I shook my head and stared down at the floor as the other women started describing what they had seen. I jumped up from my position on the floor when the class ended, but was stopped from running out of there by the calm voice of Josh, my teacher. "Rose," he said "could you stay for a little while?" I nodded and stood waiting as the room emptied, one excited woman lingering to tell our teacher something with happily waving arms. Josh nodded, smiled and gave her a small hug before saying "see you next Thursday" and sending her on her way. I had already noticed that smiling, touching and hugging seemed to be a natural part of the way Josh communicated with everyone around him and I was hoping he was perceptive enough to see that that wasn't really a good way of approaching me. I took half a step backwards as he came walking up to me and a quick frown covered his open face before he stopped a few steps away. "Rose," he said softly "I couldn't help noticing that something made you uncomfortable during the meditation today. And I wanted to tell you that if you feel you need it, you can always talk to me about it. After all, I'm here to help!" I looked at the sincere expression on his face, thinking that he probably meant it. I took a closer look at him, trying to measure if I could trust him or not. He wasn't the most attractive man I had ever met, with his slightly crooked nose - that seemed to have been broken at least once, his short but shaggy blonde hair and his slightly below average height, but he had wide, strong shoulders and there was something charming about the way he was always smiling happily. But in the sum of everything that was Josh, it was his soft, soothing voice that made me trust him almost enough to tell him about my scary rooms. "I... I don't think..." I started saying with a shake of my head. "That's ok," he quickly replied "I'm not going to push you into sharing anything right now, but I want you to know that I'm here for you! If you feel you want to talk about it later on, just grab a hold of me after class!" With a smile and wave, he let me go and I walked slowly out of there. Suddenly the world was just full of good, caring people. As I scurried back to Gabriella - still looking over my shoulder and all around me on the way back to her - I thought about the way my life had turned just a little bit better, even despite the possibility of someone potentially trying to kill me. - - - - - Weeks passed with no further back-pushing, street-stumbling incidents and I started feeling slightly safer. I didn't stop looking over my shoulder and I kept searching for some sign that my husband wanted to be rid of me; but I really couldn't tell between the quickly snapped instructions and the standard criticism that was always bordering on ridicule. But perhaps the fact that I was getting older was enough of a reason? If it had been difficult to mask the thoughts running through my mind before, the storm of feelings I was now fighting all the time made it nearly impossible. I jumped between feelings of sadness, pain and anger and feelings of happiness, friendship and love. And all of those sentiments were intense and somehow frightening, because I wasn't used to sensing basically anything, except the deep fear that was still my constant companion. With the weeks passing, a few Thursdays had come and gone and I now had several techniques for breathing and relaxing that I tried to practice every day when I took my walk in the garden. And perhaps I could thank those calm moments for keeping my temper at least visibly at bay. I met Alfred a couple of more times, but I didn't walk him home and when I started back towards my house he thankfully didn't follow me, but stopped and turned before he could be seen. I kept walking, shaking my head with astonishment at the intelligence of animals. Did he feel the tension in me increasing as I kept walking or could he perhaps smell the scent of pure evil seeping through the walls of the house? Since I didn't see Alfred home I didn't get a chance to meet Edward, but I was going to pay him a visit on a day I felt strong enough to really talk to him. And the wild storm of feelings that were tearing through me right then made me feel weaker, not stronger. I kept promising myself that I would pay him a visit in just a few days, but a few days became a week and a week became two and after three weeks I felt shakier than ever. Gabriella kept talking, laughing and pushing me towards a brighter future and when I met her I felt oddly comforted. She had a caring, almost mothering, attitude and I could easily imagine what it would feel like to be brought up by her. I laughed at her and called her my mother hen and she waved me off towards my class with a "sassy girl" comment and a big smile. The always caring and smiling Josh kept gently trying to coax me into participating more actively in our group activities and he made sure to ask if I needed someone to talk to on several occasions. He had also started touching me as he did with all the rest of the group, shaking my hand as I came and went, patting my shoulder in encouragement and putting a soft hand on my back to help guide me in the simple yoga program that he was trying to teach us. It was almost as if he knew that I needed to be gently eased into the world of human touch, and for every time he softly greeted or encouraged me or actively showed his concern I grew less and less tense, until finally one day the only thing I felt at his touch was warmth and deep appreciation. I looked up at him with tears filling my eyes and he nodded, seeming to understand what had just happened. After that moment he even gave me the occasional warm hug, and I sucked up all of his kindness and caring and put it in the brittle treasure chest of happiness that I was building in the center of that new, living me. With my newfound ability to appreciate human closeness came other feelings, forgotten for a long time, feelings that scared me even more. The way a short hug from Josh created bubbles of joy in my stomach and the way an encouraging smile and a softly squeezed shoulder would send tingles of electricity down through my arm and up through my chest. And for every time I met him I would grow more aware of a new and purely physical interest in him. The fact that I hadn't thought him attractive from the beginning was a complete mystery to me; he may not be tall, dark and handsome, but he was warm, giving and extremely charming, inner qualities that were easier for me to appreciate than the outer qualities that I was surrounded by on a daily basis. The first, tender threads of infatuation were winding themselves around my heart and it was a shy, mumbling, blushing thirty-one-year-old that wandered into the classroom to listen to the wisdoms of the person who was responsible for all of those warm, tingly feelings. It was in equal amounts awkward and exciting, scary and lovely. I knew better than to actively show my attraction, but perhaps Josh was perceptive enough to recognize the signs anyway, because he seemed to pull back slightly, and I took that as a sign of his absolute integrity; that getting involved with one of his students was against his deeply set moral rules. And of course that made me like him just that little bit more. And I started thinking about him in the most awkward of times, spinning romantic fantasies about him and me that my usual, a whole lot darker thoughts had difficulties brushing away. My distrustful and cynical side had to fight hard to keep me from throwing myself at Josh, as I went through stage upon stage of some sort of super-hormonal teenage infatuation. I thought about the t-shirt Mary had once given Sarah - with the text "you have to be realistic" printed in block letters on it. I was beginning to think she should have given that t-shirt to me. If things continued like this, I would soon be even more of a hopeless romantic than Sarah. My own special Mary-t-shirt with the simple "in the lie of the beholder" print, I still hadn't quite gotten, but then again Mary wasn't always the easiest person to understand. Nevertheless, I kept that t-shirt well-hidden in my underwear-drawer, and pulled it out when I needed some comfort, because it reminded me of my friends and that I loved them all so very, very much. I met up with my friends on our regular wine and whine time, but their caring questions and thoughtful expressions almost had me crying, every time. Until Mary had us hysterically laughing at one crazy story or another, leaving me free to breathe and think and love them in silence. There was no way to hide my inner turmoil from Mary's sharp eyes and she called me at least once a week to talk for a little while, or rather - to check up on me, as she tended to do with all of us when she felt something wasn't quite right. How she had managed to miss my miserable gray days I didn't know, but perhaps I hadn't sent out any signals she could read in my zombie existence. All of the hours I had spent thinking of some way to protect my friends hadn't produced any workable solutions. Besides finding a powerful ally, the idea of removing some of the family's power, somehow, was the only thing I could think of. And I didn't know how that could be achieved, or where to start. And without a high protective wall between my husband and my friends, no matter how much support from my new-found network of friendly helpers, I wouldn't even try to get away. - - - - - Perhaps it wasn't strange that I wasn't fully concentrated on staying on my toes around my husband. It was rare that he was home in the middle of the day on a workday and perhaps I had started letting my mask slip a little in the daytime. I'm not sure if it was something I did - a smile at the wrong time or some other sign of happiness - or just something that hadn't gone his way lately, but I still ended up suffering from a blow to the back of my head that had my ears ringing before he left the house with angry steps. I walked unsteadily into the garden and aimed for my hidden corner, wiping silent tears from my cheeks. Flower Ch. 03 I sat down and stared unseeingly in front of me, once again collecting the small shards of my frightened self to try to piece myself together. I heard a well-known "wroof" and looked down at a worried-looking dog. He didn't approach me, but sat a few feet away, looking at me and tilting his head slightly to the left as if wondering what had happened this time. I heard steps coming down the gravel path and worriedly stood up, wondering who was coming my way, hoping that it wasn't my husband. "Rose," his angry voice called out for me "I wasn't finished with you yet!" All my senses were screaming for me to get away, but I started walking quickly towards him, to prevent him from seeing Alfred. I had gotten about half way to him, when a golden-haired shape ran past me, heading for my husband. The always so sweet Alfred had now been replaced by an angry, barking dog, fur standing on end and teeth bared in a vicious-looking grin. My husband's quick steps came to a full stop as he stared first at the dog, then at me, then back at the dog. The grim look on his face made my body start to tremble, but when he tried to approach me he was stopped by an angrily barking dog. "I don't know whose dog this is," he said "but you and that person, and most of all that dog, will all be sorry!" Once again, shock sent me falling, this time to my knees as I covered my pale face with shaking fingers. I should have known that I couldn't keep Alfred a secret, I should have made sure that Edward kept him safely at home. Why hadn't I gone to Edward and told him about my husband, why hadn't I tried harder to protect them both? A wet nose pressed to the side of my neck made me look up at poor, dear Alfred. Poor Alfred, poor Edward. I slowly stood up and walked towards my neighbor's house, followed by a now happily panting dog. I stared down at the ground, not capable of looking at my beautiful surroundings. My steps were heavy as I walked around the corner of the house, straight into a solid form that wrapped its arms tightly around me. A small scream managed to slip out through my tight lips before I froze in absolute terror. "Rose," a warm voice told me "it's me, Edward. I realize I shouldn't have hugged you, but sometimes I don't think before I react. I'm not going to let you go right now, because I think you're either in shock or that you're having a bad panic attack, but when you feel up to it, we'll go indoors and drink some warm tea." I'm not sure how many minutes it took for me to unlock my tight jaws and start breathing slowly and steadily, calm breaths to slow my pulse and soften my tensed up muscles. Edward kept talking softly, switching between soothing nonsense-words and telling short stories about Alfred's adventures as a small puppy. I concentrated on breathing and listening until finally the last piece of tension left my body and I leaned into Edwards warm embrace and put my face on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," I whispered "I'm not having a very good day today." "I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered back "I didn't mean to make your day even worse. Do you think you can walk those few steps into the house now?" I straightened up, nodded and walked on weak legs towards the house, pulling myself mostly by the power of my will up the few steps to and through the open front door. I sat down on the chair in the kitchen, where I had been sitting smiling happily just a few weeks ago. I looked up and saw Edward walk in carrying two thick-looking blankets. Before long he had me securely wrapped up in two layers of colorful, comfortable fleece and I soon felt warm and strangely safe. Edward started making tea in silence and I once again looked at the wall in front of me. All the paintings, pictures and small knick-knacks made me wish I had met his wife. She seemed to have been a bright and cheerful kind of a person, who walked through life spreading happiness. "When did your wife pass away?" I asked, raising my voice slightly to penetrate the sound of the boiling water. "Sally died three years ago," he answered, busying himself with the tea pot "in a freak car accident, as she was driving home from the hospital where she was volunteering. She liked to keep busy and she wanted to help people. She didn't' really need to work, since she came from old money, but she loved being able to help in any way she could." "She must have been a very special person!" I told him, my experience with rich people and their lives mainly showing a great lack of compassion. "She was," he continued "this house belonged to her, and she kept it and her arms open to anyone who needed it. She even took me in, with all my bad habits of working too much, singing in the shower and digging holes in the butter." I smiled at the description of his small character flaws, thinking that a loving home with only those types of tiny annoyances sounded absolutely wonderful. I would give up my soul for some normal, healthy bickering about bad habits. Edward poured the tea and sat down in front of me, studying my face for a long while before letting out a long sigh and leaning back in his chair. "I heard Alfred barking and I can't imagine it was you he was barking at. Do you think you can tell me what happened?" he asked with his calm, soft voice. I nodded and cleared my throat, prepared to tell him as much as possible, to make him understand that he needed to get himself and his dog as far away as possible. "My husband came looking for me when I was... sitting... in the garden. Alfred was there when he started yelling for me to get back to the house, and when I did as he said, Alfred came running and started barking at my husband. And my husband promised he would hurt both you and Alfred." "And he probably promised he would hurt you too, didn't he?" Edward muttered, his voice still calm, but with a hint of anger in it. I nodded, but didn't tell him that that had been a certainty even before the man and dog had met in angry battle. "So if you go back there now, you probably know what will happen, don't you?" he continued, worry showing in the tense lines of his face. I nodded again, struggling to take one calm breath after the other. "Will you then let me help you?" he asked, reaching his hand towards me on the table in front of us. "I can't pull you into this," I whispered "you have no idea of what he's capable of. If he has promised he will hurt you, he will do so by any means necessary. I don't want to see you, Alfred or anyone else hurt! He doesn't know that Alfred is yours yet, but he will find out and then find the quickest and best way of destroying you. You have to get away from here before that happens!" "But you will let him hurt you?" he responded "You will go back there to get hurt, god knows how much, rather than letting me find you a safe place?" "To protect the people I love; I would go back there every time!" I whispered. "Please tell me about them then, these persons that you love, are they the selfish sort of people that would stand back and see you hurt, for them?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly "Because I don't think you would consider them friends if they were that selfish." "They don't know anything about it," I whispered back "and I don't want them to know. If they knew they would just try to help, and my husband has promised he will destroy them if I go to them for help or if I try to get away from him in any way." "He's using your friends then to make you do whatever he wants? And you're just going to let him continue doing that? Do you think any friendship is worth that price?" he asked, his voice heavy with sadness and anger. "If I didn't believe it was worth it, I wouldn't have stayed even a month. But as it is, I'll have to find a way to protect them before I try to get away." I answered, as strong in my conviction as ever. Edward shook his head, a sad frown covering his face. "So why don't you call them now and tell them to run far away, as you've done with me? And then let me take you to a safe place?" he asked softly. "I'm going back there now to tell my husband that I have never seen that dog before, and you're going to make sure that both you and Alfred are as far away as possible when my husband starts searching for you!" I said as I rose slowly and removed the blankets around me. I took a deep breath and walked out of there, hoping that he had listened to what I'd been saying, that he would heed my warning. * * * * * I had reached out to try to help her, but she wouldn't accept my offered assistance, and in my heart I had already known that she wouldn't. I had tried to make her see that she had to get away, had tried to make her understand that there was no way for her to protect everyone around her, but I had failed. I had first seen her beauty, admiring the perfect flower from afar. I had then seen her weak and trembling, that same flower shaken by powerful winds. And I had now finally seen her strength, the steel behind her frail appearance, which left the flower standing after a heavy rain. I knew there wasn't much I could do save her from what was to come, but I had to try. I picked up my phone and called my nephew, hoping that he would have some contacts in the police force that could help save her. I was going to continue trying until there was nothing more I could do. And then I would still try just a little bit longer. Flower Ch. 04 I walked back to my house with slow, unwilling steps, wondering -- not for the first time -- what made me go back, knowing that pain would be the only result of my interactions with my husband. Edward's questions were still echoing through my mind. I realized that what he was saying was the truth, my friends wouldn't want me to protect them, if it meant that I was hurt. But I had been loving them and protecting them this way for so very long. I knew it was a stubbornness that bordered on madness that kept me going, but I wasn't sure I would ever be able to stop. Stopping meant that all those years of gritting my teeth behind a pleasurable smile were all in vain. Stopping meant breaking down the foundation of my beliefs, tearing apart the only thing that kept me going. And I wasn't going to live through these next few hours without believing I was doing the right thing, I just wasn't. I opened the door and walked into a silent house, the echoing silence a sign in itself. No people around could only mean one thing, my husband had made sure that the household staff was nowhere to be seen, he had made sure that we had the house to ourselves. Cold shivers ran down my back, and the familiar feeling of deepest dread made me want to turn around and run as fast as I could. I took one deep breath and started walking up the stairs aiming for my bedroom. I sat down on my bed and waited for what was to come, the waiting game that was like a sick, twisted version of foreplay to my husband, who knew that dreading what was to come was almost as bad as the main event. The sound of my door opening and closing softly made me look up, surprised that I wasn't kept waiting for much, much longer. My husband walked in, gripping his phone with tense, white fingers, talking angrily with someone who was yelling back at him. He ended the phone call with an annoyed "I'll be right there", and then looked at me with hate shining from his eyes. "It seems we'll have to postpone our little chat," he said, his voice tight and angry "but I wanted you to know that I've made special plans for you. And that I'll make sure we have a long, nice talk tomorrow, ok?" He walked away with quick steps, his whole body radiating anger, leaving me sitting there, breath stuck in my throat. I listened to his footsteps and wondered who the person on the phone had been and what was important enough for him run off before he was done with me. Temporarily left off the hook, I let myself fall back onto my bed. A whole day to contemplate my life, doubt every decision I had ever made and ultimately regret my sins and maybe pray for forgiveness? I stood up, walked into the bath room, removed my clothes, turned the water on and sat down on the floor of the shower. I pulled myself into a small ball, tightening my arms around my legs, letting my head rest on my knees. The warm water flowed over me as I sat, trying to hold myself together. It was just another day, but still so different from all the other days. In the last few weeks I had seen kindness and I had felt hope. I had filled my frozen heart with precious feelings and I had come alive in a way that made me believe in, made me long for, a brighter future. I had thought I would be able to grow stronger, but by letting myself love and hope, I had instead somehow become softer, and a soft Rose was a very, very frightened Rose. I sat in that shower until the shivers that were running through my mind and through my body stilled. I sat until I was able to focus my thoughts on the one thing that mattered, to keep going. I would divide my day into small, livable chunks, and just... keep... going. I rose from the floor, shut the water off, dried off and got dressed. I had my usual salad for lunch and then took a long walk in the garden. I didn't stop to sit down, but kept moving. I looked at Edward's house, not sure if I wanted him to still be in there, so he could see I was alright or if I wanted him to have gone away, that he and Alfred were safely removed to some unknown place, far, far away. That evening and night spent in that cold, silent house created another lasting memory that would be difficult to forget. I woke up, tired after a few hours of restless sleep, but went about my morning as I usually did; my regular workout, a shower, some breakfast. Then I found myself sitting in the large kitchen, staring at the luxurious interior, wishing for the lived-in feeling of Edward's kitchen; a bit shabby, but absolutely packed with wonderful memories. I sat there for quite some time, until I was interrupted by my phone signaling that it was time to go beautify myself, reminding me that it was Thursday. As I was met by a first smiling, then worried-looking Gabriella, I thought that perhaps it would have been better if I had cancelled all of my appointments, and I almost turned and walked out of there. Gabriella quickly grabbed my hand, pulled me into her room, and then started scanning me for injuries. "What has he done?" she asked angrily "You look like a ghost!" "He hasn't done anything," I answered slowly "I haven't been able to sleep, that's all." Gabriella walked away to the far corner where she proceeded in waving her hands around and swearing, in several different languages. It took her a while to work all of that anger out of her system, but she came back, a decided look on her face. "You need to get away, now! Please, please let me help you get away!" she said, begging me to listen. I shook my head and looked down at the floor, not wanting to see the pain in her eyes. "You poor, stubborn woman!" she said, and guided me to the chair. It seemed that her hands were even softer and gentler that day, as if she was trying to take all of my pain and all of my worries away. She brushed my hair back from my face and let her hands linger on the top of my head, as if trying to push some sense in there, or perhaps it was just love? She cleaned and massaged my face, using long, slow strokes, as if trying to smooth away all my troubles. And when she sent me off to my class, she hugged me close and kissed my cheek before turning away quickly to hide the tears that I still managed to see. I went to class, but didn't look up at Josh or shake his hand as I entered. I tried to participate as much as possible, but a breathing exercise where you were supposed to find your "happy place" and from that place try to face your fears, felt hilariously unfitting. I looked up quickly at the end of class and saw Josh throwing questioning looks my way, but I didn't want to face another worried person and more questions, so I walked out of there as quickly as possible. I heard him call out to me, but just kept walking, hoping he would be stopped by one or more of the women in my class, since they usually stayed to ask him a lot of follow-up questions. I made it out of the building before I heard Josh calling my name again and felt his gentle hand on my shoulder. I spent half a second on the surprised thought that his soft touch didn't scare me before I turned around to face him. "I just wanted to make sure that you were all right?" he said with that same magically soothing voice that had me thinking about him again and again, was it only a few days ago? "I'm fine," I answered "I'm just a bit tired." "Please let me know if I can help you in any way!" he said before he pushed my hair back from my face and let his hand linger for a short moment on my cheek. He leaned in, seemingly intent on pressing a kiss to my other cheek, when he was interrupted by an angry bark. I turned around quickly and saw Alfred running up to us with wild eyes, growling and barking. Josh took several steps backwards and Alfred pushed himself between us and continued to bark at my very surprised-looking teacher. I think it was the first time I had ever seen him not carrying his signature smile. "I'm so sorry," I heard Edward's familiar voice call out "he's not really dangerous, but he is a bit protective around Rose here. I think you better go indoors and I'll make sure we're on our way in just a few minutes!" Just seconds after Josh had disappeared, Alfred began waving his tail and pushed his head under my hand, his favorite way of soothing me, and perhaps soothing himself as well. Edward came up to me and put his hand on my arm, and I looked up into his warm, calm eyes. "I've never seen him do anything even remotely like that before," he said "I'm beginning to suspect that you're in his pack now. I just didn't know he felt that strongly about protecting his own, but you live and you learn." I shook my head and smiled weakly down at the now happy dog. I could see the need for him to protect me against my husband, but the always friendly Josh? I thought about it for a few seconds, wondering if there was something Alfred could sense about the two men, that I was unable to see. I shook that ridiculous thought off and figured that my furry friend probably didn't want me hanging around anyone outside of the pack. Silly dog! "Why are you still here," I asked Edward softly as I ran my hands over Alfred's back "I told you to go as far away from here as it was possible." "And we did go away, actually!" Edward answered "We went all the way to the other side of town, to my nephew's house. But today when we went for a walk, Edward kept dragging me back this way and well, the result was this... confrontation." "You know that's not really far enough..." I told him. "Well, be that as it may... How are you, are you ok?" he asked, one more person scanning me for possible injuries. "I'm fine," I said, keeping my voice low "my husband got called away from home yesterday and he hasn't come back home yet." "So you're not hurt... yet?" Edward asked, lowering his voice slightly. "I'm fine, I'm just tired, that's all." I answered. "I can't help being worried you know," Edward whispered "and I still say you should let me help you." "And I love you for wanting to help, but I will live through this crisis, I will find a way to protect my friends and then I will do my best to get away!" I whispered back "And now I have to get back there, being late will not precisely improve my situation..." I left Edward and Alfred on the sidewalk, walked quickly back to Gabriella, and then half-ran back to the house; if I hurried I would be on time. - - - - - A handful of days later, I was running again, this time away from the house. I now knew with absolute certainty that I wouldn't survive if I didn't go as far away from there as I could, without ever turning back. I knew, because I had seen my death in picture after picture, film after film. I had seen one blonde girl after another being used, abused and killed in one vicious, colorful statement after the other. And I had heard my husband's accompanying words describing every little thing he had done, every little thing he would soon be doing to me. I ran to the first person I could think of, that I knew where to find; Gabriella would help me, I was sure of it. I slowed to a walk just before I entered the beauty parlor, but probably still had a wild and hurried quality to my movements, because the girl at the front desk gave me an odd look when walked in and then another when I asked if Gabriella was there. According to her Gabriella had the day off on Wednesdays and when I asked if there was any way to contact her, she just shook her head and told me to come back the next day, then she turned away and started fiddling with her phone. I could feel myself deflating, that famous balloon-feeling, where all your breath and all your strength just disappears at the same time. I had no way of contacting her or Edward, I had made sure of it, to protect them as much as I could. But perhaps there was one other person that might be willing to help me, at least he had said so on several occasions. Perhaps I could at least ask Josh for a place to hide and think for a while? With any luck I should be able to find him at work, if he worked the same hours every day? I walked over there slowly, hoping that my decision to ask for help was the right one. Josh didn't know about my life, but perhaps he had been able to deduce what was going on, as the others had. I wasn't sure if I would be able to talk about it, and I hoped he wouldn't ask questions that I didn't have the strength to answer. I walked into the empty reception area, then slowly continued towards the classroom where Josh usually resided, hoping I would be able to find him, even though the place seemed absolutely deserted. The room was as empty as the rest of the place, and I let out an exhausted sigh and sat down on one of the hard chairs. What now? Before I was able to come up with a new plan I heard footsteps approaching, and someone whistling a cheerful tune on his way. There was so much joy in those few out of tune notes, that I instantly knew it had to be Josh. I turned towards the door and saw him entering, the way he started when he saw me and the wide smile that spread quickly as he realized who it was. His smile still made my heart beat a little unsteadily, and I could feel a blush spread across my previously pale and tired face. "Rose," he said, still smiling "you're lucky you found me here, we're usually closed on Wednesdays, but I had some things I wanted to prepare before your class tomorrow. What brings you here?" "I... I came to ask for help." I whispered, my face quickly turning back to its original color. "Oh, Rose... of course I will help you," he said, his smile slightly smaller and accompanied by a worried frown "I said I would help you, didn't I?" I nodded, but didn't say anything. I just sat there and looked at him, wondering where to start and how to tell him what needed to be said. "Here," he said and reached for my hand "let's go to the lunch room, there are more comfortable chairs in there." I willingly let myself be pulled from the chair I was sitting on. Those chairs really were uncomfortable, perhaps they had to be to make sure people didn't fall asleep through all of the relaxation and meditation classes? We walked down a short passageway into a small but colorful and inviting room, Josh still holding my hand securely in his. His hand was warm and strong, sort of like his personality, my mind mused. He guided me to the corner seat of a soft and comfortable sofa, made sure I had a big, soft pillow behind my back, sat down beside me and took my hands in his. "Now, do you want to tell me what's happened?" he said with that soft, calm voice that I liked so much. "I'm not really sure what to say or how," I whispered "but in short... I'm afraid of my husband and I have to get away." I started crying, not able to stop the flow of tears. I had no strength left to put on a show, to wear the happily smiling face; my stubborn "everything's going to be ok" attitude was nowhere to be seen. I pulled my hands away to cover my face, and Josh let go of my hands, but then scooted closer and pulled me into a tender hug. "I can't say I haven't seen the signs," he told me with a softer than usual voice "and I've been hoping that you would give me a chance to help you!" I kept crying and he continued talking to me calmly, telling me the different ways he could help me, if I needed to hide, he'd find a place, if I needed to go away, he'd drive me. And he continued telling me about the many different ways of going about everything from the first escape to a possible future as I cried myself dry on his shoulder. "This is not the time or the place," he whispered "but I felt I needed to tell you, just to come clean about it, that I like you very much. In fact, I'm very attracted to you. I'm not really sorry, because it's a wonderful feeling, but I wasn't sure if the knowledge would make you feel awkward or happy... or angry..." I didn't know how to answer that statement, which seemed a bit out of place somehow. His declaration made my heart take a few extra dance steps, but the feelings that lingered were a complicated mix of disbelief and astonishment. "I'm not angry... but perhaps... surprised?" I finally answered, looking down at my hands. "Ok, so a little awkward then..." he answered and I could hear the smile he was wearing by the way his voice sounded. I nodded, still staring at my hands. I didn't feel the strong surge of passion for him that I had felt before, mostly when I had been thinking about him when I was on my own, but I suspected it was probably due to my great levels of exhaustion. "This is what I think we should do," he started saying "we should take a flight to a sweet island that I know of, where the days are warm and sunny and the nights are comfortably cool, where everyone lives a carefree and stress-free life and where you'll have plenty of space and time to heal and think about what to do with your future." I nodded again, liking the idea of being able to get away, far away, but wondering about the cost of it all. Flying somewhere far away wasn't cheap, living on a tropical island wasn't free? As if he could read my thoughts the answer came flying with Josh's regular cheerful enthusiasm. "All you have to do is break out one of your credit cards, and I'll set it up for you! In a few hours we'll be on our way!" he said with a short laugh "It'll be wonderful, you'll see!" I straightened up, turned my eyes up to meet his and looked at his boyishly happy, smiling face. "I don't have any credit cards and I don't have any money," I said, my voice louder than before "I have nothing except the clothes I'm wearing and the bag I'm carrying." "You don't have a credit card?" he asked, his smile slipping a few degrees "Nothing?" I shook my head and scanned his face, surprised by the changes I was seeing. "So what you're saying is that you don't have access to any funds whatsoever?" he asked, his voice growing louder. Once again I shook my head, and saw him turn away. When he turned back to face me, I almost didn't recognize the man in front of me. He wasn't smiling and his eyes were hard and cold; his friendly attitude obviously blown away by what I had revealed. "So you mean I have wasted all this time on a woman that's completely without means? That I have worked this hard to win your trust, that I have approached you slower than I've ever had to with another woman in my entire life, that I have finally gained your trust and your affection, but that it's all in vain?" His words were coming out stronger and stronger, until he was yelling quite loud. And I sat there trembling, until he stood up and walked a few steps, his agitation clearly visible in all of his movements. I stood up and tried to sneak away, to get away from that room, to get away from him, but he saw me moving and came pouncing. He threw me down on the floor and sat down on top of me, his knees on my arms. And he continued yelling at me, angry words that shocked and scared me, and turned my stomach. "I had to put in a real effort to make you see me, to make sure that you wouldn't be afraid of me and to make you care for me. And when I saw that look in your eyes, when I could tell that I had woken some sort of passion in your cold upper-class body, I knew there was just a matter of time before you came to me. I had you in the palm of my hand. And then it turns out that you don't have any money. And I have spent so many completely wasted weeks on you!" He stared me straight in the eyes and spat me in the face before he continued. "And that means I now have just a few weeks to hook another wealthy fish, so I can finally get away from this godforsaken town. And if I don't manage to do that, it's all your fault. And since it's your fault you should be punished, and I know you know all about that, don't you? That's what all of this was about from the beginning, wasn't it? You wouldn't stay for your husband's punishment, but I guarantee you'll stay for mine. And perhaps you will even enjoy it a little. I'll thaw your frozen rich bitch cunt, you'll see!" Flower Ch. 04 Somehow, my body wasn't entirely frozen from shock and I wasn't completely overwhelmed by fear. Somehow his angry words about upper-class and riches started that inexplicable anger inside of me, that heated my blood and loosened my tight muscles. He had me locked to the floor by the weight of his body, pressing my arms painfully to the floor with his hard knees, but I wasn't going to just lie there and let him do any of the things he was telling me he'd do. When he crawled down my body and started tearing at my clothes, I reached out with my freed left hand to find something that could help me escape. A quick sweep gave me a block of wood, a yoga aid of some sort, that I gripped tightly and as he turned his efforts to unbuttoning his own clothes, I managed to sneak my right hand up to grip my weapon more securely with both hands. I screamed as I hit him on the head, putting all of my strength into that one effort. When he fell away from me I quickly crawled away, stood up and started running. I made it out of the room, out through the reception area and out the, thankfully, unlocked door. I stumbled out onto the sidewalk, straight into the arms of a dark shadow. "Out of the ashes, into the fire" was the last thing I thought before my head started spinning. "Nooo, I have to get away..." was the words that accompanied me into darkness as my mind gave up its fight to keep me conscious. * * * * * I heard a noise and turned around just in time to see a woman running quickly out through a door, just a few steps down the street. With just one look I was able to take in her torn clothes, her shoeless feet, her frantic movements and the fear that was shining out her eyes. Without conscious thought I took the few steps I needed to be able to catch her before she ran straight out into the traffic. I then quickly turned around to see what she was running from, preparing to stop whoever or whatever it was. A blonde, obviously angry man came out the door and I lifted my head up to stare at him, just as the woman I was holding fainted. I grabbed her under the arms to keep her upright and continued staring at the man who had stopped abruptly as he saw me; sometimes wearing a uniform did come in handy. "I suggest you stop right there," I told him, using my most commanding voice "and I'll talk to you in just a few minutes." I lifted the woman up and carried her to my car, glad that it was parked just a few cars away. I stared over my shoulder at the man, making sure he didn't do anything foolish, like run away or throw himself at me. Part of me almost wished he would try something, so the anger that was flowing through me would get some sort of outlet, but the smarter and slightly less violent part of me was still in control. My first priority was to protect the woman, my second to find out what had happened, my third to make sure it didn't happen again. As I eased the woman gently into the passenger seat of my car, I realized I recognized her. She was the woman I had rescued just a few weeks ago, and in almost exactly the same place as today; what were the odds of that happening? I had thought more than once about the way I had treated her, regretting that I had snapped at her, that my previous experiences had made me assume things about her that I had no way of knowing if they were true or not. It was just as she had said, I didn't know her well enough to judge her one way or the other. I made sure she was sitting up, secured the seatbelt, closed the door and went back to talk to the man, my anger swimming strongly just under a not much calmer surface after I had carefully catalogued her torn clothes. If there was one thing I hated more than anything, then it was abusive men. I couldn't stand men that mistreated women in any way, shape or form. I took a few deep breaths as I jogged back; I had to get my anger under control. "She attacked me," the man called out to me as I was still a few steps away "she came on to me, and when I told her I wasn't interested she got aggressive." "And you tore her clothes off as a way of protecting yourself?" I couldn't help saying. "She tore her own clothes off, and then she ran out screaming for help!" he answered, his answers sounding well-rehearsed or almost as if he was reading a script. I wondered how many times he had been caught with his hand in the jam pot, how many times he had had to defend himself against women's claims that he had molested them. He sounded well-versed in the art of deflecting police attention, and that made me even angrier. "She's the wife of one of the more prominent men of this town," he continued, now with a cocky smile on his face "and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't want me to spread my story about how she couldn't get what she wanted from her rich husband, so she tried to get it from me instead." I started counting down from one hundred, managing my anger as I had been taught to do, many years ago now. This sleazy scumbag wasn't going to make me lose my temper. I gritted my teeth against the angry words that were hanging on the tip of my tongue. I loosened my hands that kept wanting to go into tight fists. "You're saying she came on to you?" I said, my voice surprisingly calm and steady "Where are her clothes, her shoes and her purse then? No woman would leave her home without shoes and a purse, would she?" "They're in here, where she attacked me..." the man said, smiling victoriously. We walked into a sunny reception area, where I could read about the activities and classes the place had to offer, thinking that the treatment the man in front of me had just been giving the woman probably wasn't openly advertised. With expert eyes I took in the scene of the lunch room in front of me. Her purse was standing in the corner of the big L-shaped sofa, her shoes were lying a few steps away on the open floor, a strange square wooden block a few feet further away. There were just a few signs of some sort of struggle, a corner of the soft rug by the sofa was folded, the sofa table was standing slightly off-center and a coffee mug had spilled its contents on the table. There were no obvious signs to either prove or disprove the man's story. I thought about my options, my angrier side telling me to get the man down to the station, to make sure he was locked up and out of the way, my more mature side telling me that getting the woman safely away from there probably would be the best way of protecting her. I quickly decided that getting the unconscious woman to hospital was more important than letting my anger out on the man in front of me. I walked into the room and collected the woman's purse and shoes, before I turned to the man again. "I'm going to need to know your name and the name of the woman," I told him "and I'm going to have to ask you to not leave town in the next few days." "My name is Josh Walden and her name is Rose Bannister, of the famous Bannister family" he told me with a smirk "and you don't have to worry about me leaving town, not in the next few weeks at least..." I managed to cover the shock that his revelation gave me, that was Rose Bannister? I turned away and walked out of the room when his next comment made me stop and turn back. "I hope you'll make sure she'll be punished for what she has done to me!" he said, his words distinctly smug, pleased and malicious at the same time. I wiped the smile from his face with one swift blow from my right fist. Sometimes loosing you temper was just what was called for in a situation like this. Flower Ch. 05 I woke up with a start, quickly opening my eyes to be able to see where I was, to see if there was any way for me to get away. I was sitting upright, in a car? I was covered by a blanket, with my shoes and purse in my lap. And the car was taking me somewhere? And who was driving me? A calm, deep voice started talking, telling me that everything was ok, that he was getting me away from Josh. There was something familiar about his voice, and the way he was talking, mixing soothing words and facts about what had happened when I was unconscious. I started taking deep breaths to try to calm my speeding heart, finding it ironic that I was using a technique taught by Josh to overcome what was supposed to be Josh's final lesson. Pushing back the hysterical laughter that tickled the back of my throat, I continued breathing, loosening the tight pressure across my chest and preparing myself to confront my... savior? I turned my face slightly to the left and let my eyes run up a darkly clad arm, pausing as I realized that the person sitting next to me was dressed in a very distinct police uniform. I felt the confusing pieces of that particular puzzle click in place and I wasn't surprised when I recognized the person sitting next to me; it was the angry police officer. "You...?" I whispered. "Yes, me," he said "and it figures that you would recognize me. I sat here hoping you wouldn't, so I wouldn't have to say I'm sorry, because I'm really not that good at it. But here it goes... I'm sorry I let my previous experiences color the way I treated you. I'm sorry I didn't help you properly then. But I've been thinking that perhaps I got this chance for a do-over, so that I'd be able to do it right this second time. And now I'm babbling, and I'm sorry about that too..." His voice trailed off into silence as he watched the road in front of him and bit his lip, perhaps to keep himself from talking. I studied his face, finding him just as attractive as the last short time I had seen him. He seemed calm, not worried, upset or angry; just perfectly calm, perhaps with just a hint of embarrassment. But he wasn't smiling, which somehow felt reassuring to me, and I wondered if I would see Josh's face every time I met someone who greeted me with a smile. I felt a shudder run through my body as I faced that frightening possibility; I sincerely hoped that wouldn't be the case. "Where are you taking me?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "I'm taking you to the hospital" he answered, still keeping his eyes on the road. "Hospital? I can't go to the hospital!" I almost squeaked, shaking my head quickly from side to side, making my head hurt just that little bit more. "That's exactly where we're going, I wouldn't be able to look my aunt or uncle in the eyes ever again if I didn't make sure that you were taken care of." He stopped the car and I realized we were already there, parked a few rows of cars away from the hospital entrance. He turned towards me and scanned my face, his face still calm, but his eyes both warm and sad. "I'm sorry, but this one time I'm going to have to insist that you do as I say. I've called ahead and we will be greeted just inside those doors, and I will be there to make sure you're taken care of, that you're treated in the best way possible." I could tell by the stubborn set of his mouth and jaw that he meant what he was saying, and I realized there was no way to prevent what was going to happen. A trip to the local hospital would almost certainly show up on my husband's radar, making escape impossible. I felt that sick, dizzy feeling again and had to fight to keep myself from fainting. "Hey," he said before jumping out of the car "don't go fainting on me again!" He opened my door, bent down to put my shoes on my feet and then helped me out of the car. He made sure that the blanket was wrapped tightly around my body, perhaps to hide the state of my clothes, before he locked the car, took my arm and started guiding me towards those dreaded hospital doors. I felt darkness creeping in on me, and my field of vision got smaller and smaller until I saw only a tiny brightly lit square in front of me. I saw the doors opening and the even brighter light from the hospital reception area. I heard a shocked exclamation from someone standing just inside the doors and looked up to find Susan standing there, staring at me with wide eyes in her obviously bruised and battered face. She called out to me, but I just shook my head and let myself be led further into the hospital. We were met by a young dark-haired woman, who greeted us with a wide smile, then led us further and further into the labyrinth of the hospital until she finally stopped and guided us into a small, empty waiting room. She told us she'd be right back, then left us with quick steps. The police officer guided me to a chair and sat down beside me, an arm still wrapped around my shoulders, probably to make sure I stayed upright. "I don't want to be here..." I whispered. "I've realized that," the police officer answered "but now when I've finally understood who you are, I think it's for the best that you stay." "What do you mean?" I whispered, my breaths too shallow, my pulse too high and my tunnel-vision still present. "With a little help from the smiling sleazebag who attacked you, I now know your name, and since that's a name I've already heard a couple of times this week..." he said, annoyingly stopping mid-sentence. "Still not helped by what you're saying!" I told him, anger rising at the irritating way he was avoiding the main issue, refusing to tell me the whole story as quickly as possible. Anger that evened out my breaths and made my hands stop trembling. "I happen to be Edward Connery's closest living relative, his beloved nephew to be precise. I used to share my name with the not entirely unknown Sean Connery, but I've gone by the name of Sean Perez for many, many years now." His self-deprecating smile as he said his name was replaced by a serious expression as he continued. "Edward, who happens to own a cute little dog named Alfred and who also happens to be your closest neighbor has told me about your situation and I know that you don't want to be here and why. Elena that met and guided us here will make sure that the doctors and nurses you meet are only her most trusted friends, people that she can guarantee aren't corrupt or in any way bought by your husband's family. And your name and medical documentation will be protected in every way possible. It's time to do something about your situation, right now!" I was shocked by what he was saying and stared at him for a long time, processing his words and trying to see any likeness to Edward. Perhaps there was something about his eyes and the sound of his voice that was familiar? I was startled out of my contemplations by Sean laughing softly. "We don't look much alike," he said "but we're quite definitely related. I can show you a heart shaped birthmark that we both have in common if you want me to?" Elena, the nurse, came walking back into the room and waved her finger at Sean. "If it's the birthmark on your right butt cheek you're talking about, Sean, then I'm sure none of us want to see it!" she said with laughing conviction "Now, get out of here and let us girls talk for a while!" Sean walked down the hall, but stayed close enough for him to see, but not hear, us. "Sean said he didn't think you'd been raped, but it's not always something that can be easily seen and I wanted to know if I should prepare for that type of medical examination. I'm sorry if I'm being too direct, but I just wanted to be sure..." "No he didn't make it that far." I answered and shook my head slightly, thinking that I had indeed been lucky. "Did he hurt you in any other way? Do you think you can tell me about your injuries so I can write them down?" she asked, looking at me calmly, but with a tiny worry-wrinkle between her eyebrows. "I..." I started slowly, actively searching my body for painful spots "I hit my head when he threw me down on the floor, I have bruises on my shoulders and arms from where he held me down. And I have other bruises... and cuts... on my upper body, from... from before." "You have other bruises," Elena asked, her eyebrows lifting as she looked at me "from your husband?" I hesitated for a short while before I nodded and answered "yes, from my husband" with a whisper. Elena nodded with a grim look around her mouth, made notes about what I had said and then stood up and waved to Sean to let him know he could get back into the room. When he entered the room, she took a hold of his hands, looked them over, shook her head and walked out of there muttering something in Spanish. As he walked up to me I looked at his hand and saw a discoloration on the knuckles of his right hand, and when I turned my eyes up to scan his face, I thought I saw a slightly guilty expression on it before it turned back to its usual calmness. "Smiley-sleazy back there made a comment that made me more than angry, and sometimes I act before I think. I'm not really sorry about adjusting his nose some, but I don't want you to think that I walk around hitting people all the time. I'm usually better at keeping my anger at bay..." he said, his face revealing that he thought he had said too much "And god... now you're going to think I'm dangerous... I'm just going to shut up now." Elena came walking back into the room again and probably heard the last part of what he was saying, because she laughed at him before she sat down, took Sean's hand and starting cleaning it up and putting some sort of lotion on the knuckles. "Sean has always had difficulties thinking and talking around beautiful women. And sometimes walking too, to tell the truth..." she said, full of laughter. "And you still haven't learned that you can't save the world with your fists, have you?" she continued, her words both warm and teasing. When Elena left again, Sean looked at me with a small, embarrassed smile on his face. "We were brought up together, and yes, getting teased and told off by someone who is basically your kid sister is always... fun..." he said. I gave him a small smile and closed my eyes. It must be nice to have a sister or a brother to tease like that. I used to think that the relationship I had to my friends was almost as close as being sisters. But perhaps being sisters meant telling each other everything, or at least being a bit more open than I had been. I thought about Susan, wondering what had happened to her, hoping her bruised face wasn't something that I had caused. I sat up with a start, realizing that Susan had seen me walking into the hospital. And if Susan had seen me, then that probably meant that Sarah and Mary would soon be informed. And if they talked about it and started asking questions, then there was still a chance that my husband would hear about it. I rose and started walking back and forth in the small room, six steps one way and six steps back. Perhaps if I called them and told them not to worry? But no, that wouldn't work, Mary would still try to find out everything that had happened. A hand on my shoulder made me jump slightly, and twitch to try to get away from it. The warm hand didn't move, but stayed where it was, heavy but gentle and after a few moments more soothing than frightening. I took a deep breath and turned towards Sean, once again looking up at him, to read his emotions. He didn't have either an exclusively cold and angry face or an entirely happy and smiling face, but a more complicated one holding a combination of different emotions. He had warm, brown eyes, that seemed to be twinkling with laughter most of the time, a forehead that was covered with wrinkles, as if he was used to worrying about things, and a mouth and chin that seemed to reveal whatever he was thinking at any particular moment. Right then, his mouth was no longer smiling, but his lips were tight and tilted slightly downwards. He looked worried and decided in equal amounts. "Please sit down," he asked me softly "if you feel uncomfortable with me in the room, I can go wait further down the hall. But please sit, because I don't want you to get hurt again!" I shook my head and walked back to the chairs we had abandoned. "I'm not afraid of you nor uncomfortable with you in the room," I told him "so please stay." "You were worrying about something," he said "is there anything I can do to make you worry a little less?" "The woman we met in the entrance," I answered quickly, before I could change my mind about telling him "she's one of my best friends. I'm afraid that she will call my other friends and that my hospital visit won't be that much of a secret anymore." "And these friends, are they real friends or just acquaintances? Are they just concerned about your safety or gossipy busy bodies?" he calmly asked. "They're real, concerned friends. But at least one of them is very good at finding out things about everyone, and I'm afraid she'll go digging to get to the truth about why I'm here..." I answered, thinking about Mary's almost magical way of seeing and knowing everything. "... and you're afraid that your husband will find out?" he finished my sentence. I nodded and looked down at my hands, still not sure about the best way to stop my friends from worrying, and to stop Mary from taking matters into her own hands. Perhaps there was nothing that could be done? And perhaps there was no use worrying about things that I couldn't possibly control? "Don't worry," Sean said softly "I'm here to make sure that nothing bad happens to you!" I felt him tensing beside me and looked up to see Elena walking in with a darkly clad, very familiar shape. I stood up and couldn't really believe what I was seeing. "Rose," Mary said as she walked up to me "what's happened to you?" Sean was also standing up, with a confused expression on his face. "Mary," he said "do you know Rose? Elena, what is Mary doing here?" Mary pulled me down into my chair again, sat down beside me and waved for Sean to do the same. "I called everyone I knew at the hospital to find out about Rose, and read between the lines when I talked to Elena here. She's not very good at lying, you know..." Mary said with a teasing smile. "Mary is the friend I told you about, you know the one that's good at digging out secrets..." I told Sean, with a small smile as I looked at Mary. "We both know that Mary is one of the good guys," Elena said, looking a bit shame-faced "and she had to talk for a good long while before I let her in here... and she promised she would go if she wasn't wanted or needed. Rose, I haven't told Mary anything, and you're free to decide if she's to go or if she can stay. Think about it, and I'll be back shortly to see if I'll have the privilege to escort her out!" She walked away, once again muttering, this time in a mix of English and Spanish, and I thought I heard something about "stubborn" and "pain in the ass". Mary laughed her usual loud but warm laughter, took my hand in hers and looked at my face with those big green eyes of hers. She didn't move her eyes up and down, scanning me for injuries, as everyone else had recently started doing, but she usually seemed to need only one look to take in everything around her, and I suspected she had already seen the way I was dressed, the way I sat, that my hands were trembling slightly and a whole lot of other things I hadn't even noticed myself. "Someone's hurt you," Mary said, her voice low "who?" "Most recently," Sean said, his voice annoyed, as if he didn't like that Mary was there "a sleazy meditation teacher by the name of Josh Walden." Mary turned her eyes on Sean, and I wondered what she saw and could read about him. Probably that he had his stubborn face on, because that mouth still revealed what he was thinking and feeling. "Calm down Sean," Mary said with a low voice and a teasing smile "I'm not here to tell you how to do your job... not this time..." It seemed they had a history together and I wondered what secrets Mary kept behind her smart mouth and full laughter. Mary turned her eyes on me again, biting her lip in a distinctly un-Mary-like fashion. Anxious behavior somehow didn't fit with the general impression I had of my friend. "If I read between the lines, which wasn't very hard this time, Mr. Obvious, someone else has been hurting you before?" Mary said slowly "who?" I shook my head, and looked down at my hands. I heard Mary stand up and walk back and forth in the room, as I had just recently done; I heard her heavy steps and calmly noted that the room was still just six steps long. She didn't walk for very long, and when she sat down beside me again, I heard her exhale heavily. "Rose... I think you are more aware of my little, shall we call it "condition", than any of the rest of our friends. You know that I see, hear and feel things a little bit sharper than other people. You don't walk around thinking "however did she know that?", you know that it's all about perception, don't you?" Mary asked with a strangely sad voice. I nodded, but kept staring at my hands. "And you probably know I've been noticing things connected to you these past two months?" she kept going, her voice still sad "Things that haven't really made sense, which has made me worry about you." I nodded once more. She probably had seen more than I would have wanted her to, but perhaps not as much as she might think, after all, I had made sure to keep away from her whenever I was in pain. "And, even though you probably don't want me to know what's wrong," she continued "Sean sitting here looking all tense and angry, Elena not wanting to let me in to see you, and finally you sitting here looking pale and shaken, not wanting to talk about it, has already told me everything." I looked up at her anguished face, read the truth on her face and nodded. She put a shaking hand over her mouth as if to try to stop all of her emotions, and I saw a tear fall down her cheek. "How long?" she whispered "How long has your husband been hurting you?" "Since day one..." I whispered back. "Thirteen years," she cried "oh Rose, why didn't you tell me? And why didn't I see it?" "He told me that the day you found out, he'd make sure you were all destroyed," I answered, my heart filled both with relief and regret "and I didn't want that to happen." Mary pulled me into her arms and held me close as she cried silent tears against my shoulder. And I sat there holding her, my eyes surprisingly dry. It was a strange feeling, comforting my always smiling friend, and the fact that she now knew about my life made things feel absolutely surreal, like a weird dream. Elena walked into the room again, quietly taking in the scene. She pointed at Mary and then pointed towards the exit and I shook my head slightly. I needed to talk to Mary, to get her to see she had to talk to Susan and Sarah, to make sure they all went far away. "Today was the day I decided I couldn't stay any longer," I whispered "because I knew that it was just a matter of time before he killed me." Mary heard me and sat up straight to be able to see my face as I spoke. "And I went to a friend for help, but it turned out he only wanted to help me if it would help him, and I ended up having to run from him too." I continued whispering "And I finally ran straight into Sean's arms, and here we all are..." "But they're exceptional arms, so I quite understand your choice," Mary whispered with a wicked smile "but all joking aside, what made you decide that today was the day?" "He started showing violent films with blonde women who were all killed in the end; and he was in those movies, he did those things to those poor girls, and he told me all about it, so I would know just what he would do to me..." I whispered, my words going from quick to quicker until I ended my speech with something between a scream and a sob. Flower Ch. 05 "Whaat?" Sean and Mary both said after a few seconds of complete silence. "He said he would kill me?" I whispered. "No, not that," Sean said "you said he showed you movies with him killing women, and that they were all blonde?" "Yes...?" I answered, wondering why he was sitting up straight, looking almost...excited? "Like the confused blonde girl the police picked up wandering around about a week ago, telling strange stories about being abducted." Sean answered. "And the many blonde women that have mysteriously gone missing, that the police haven't tried hard enough to find." Mary added, making Sean frown and throw angry looks her way. I thought about what they were saying, finally realizing that if the movies I'd been shown were all for real, then that would actually mean that several women had been killed, and that my husband was guilty of a hideous crime. I hadn't thought about it, but those movies weren't only a proof of what he was capable of, they could also be used as actual proof against him. "I didn't think about that," I whispered "I just ran. I should have made sure I brought some sort of proof." "Oh honey," Rose answered "running was really all you needed to do. Telling us what you've seen is just a bonus." "He had pictures on his phone and movies on his laptop... if that helps?" I told them both. Sean nodded, turning to Mary with a question in his eyes. Mary stood and stretched, then looked at the both of us with a determined look on her face. "I will find what we need to destroy him," she said before she leaned down, hugged me, hit Sean softly in the stomach and walked out of there "I'll let you know just as soon as I find anything. And Rose, don't worry, I'll keep Sarah and Susan safe!" I stared after her, wondering what it was that Sean had silently asked her to do. When she was gone I looked at Sean and started formulating a question. "You want to know what she's going to do, don't you?" Sean asked and as I nodded he continued "She is some sort of computer genius, and she sometimes helps out when there are things that need to be found quickly." I nodded, I knew she worked with computers somehow, but I didn't know exactly what she did. She had once said she was a "super freak", but that had sounded rather negative; genius was a much better description of her. Elena walked in again and I silently wondered how many steps she took every day. And how many people she met and cared for in a week. And how she managed to stay so calm and seem so genuinely happy, despite all the things she must have seen. "It's time to start looking at those injuries," she said with a decided nod "follow me, and Sean... try to keep up!" Sean grumbled something under his breath, stood up and pulled me up by my hand, then put his arm around me and guided me out of the room. I thought about telling him that I didn't need help, but it felt comforting to have his strong arm around me, like he was somehow helping me keep the fragile parts of my inner self glued together. And, I thought shortly and wickedly, they were rather exceptional arms... * * * * * I kept wishing that the world would somehow change, that all the information and knowledge we had access to in this age of computers and smartphones would help make a change, that we would all become better educated, and that we would know right from wrong thanks to that education. I had always hoped that we would all become better people, kinder and gentler, that civilization would become more... civilized. I had seen darkness from an early age, and I had fought it then, as I fought it now. I had also seen love, light and happiness, thanks to my always kind uncle and my fiercely protective aunt, two sides of my family fighting to give me a better life. I kept being brought down by the things I saw and the stories I was told, but I was quickly lifted back up again by the love and warmth that I had around me, by my family and closest friends. I was lucky in that respect and every time I met someone who had lost everyone, who had no one to turn to, it kept me fighting to make a change, to help as much as I was able to. I knew that that deep need to help, to protect, was as much of a side-effect of my early life with my mom and dad as the still always present anger was. And I knew that my strength and will to protect was also my weakness, because I would basically walk through fire for anyone in need of help, especially if that person was a mistreated woman; and sometimes the person I rescued wasn't quite as much in need of help as I was made to believe. The woman I kept glancing at, Rose, tried to make me believe the opposite, telling me that she was ok, that she didn't need help. But I had walked her from waiting room, to examination room, to scanning room and then back again, and I had seen the tired sadness in her eyes and felt the tightness of her muscles. And I had seen my almost-sister's face go whiter and whiter as she walked with us and talked to us, trying to keep up her teasing, joking attitude. The poor, beaten woman was too strong, to brave, too stubborn, too unselfish for her own good. And too goddamned beautiful for my own good. Elena had that part right at least, I was a stumbling, mumbling mess around "the pretty girls". Thirteen years, I thought, she had lived in that abusive relationship almost as long as my mother had lived in hers. I was thirteen years old when my mother died, I was thirteen when I confronted my uncle, thirteen when I finally got away from my father. If I ever got the chance to wish for something, like a magical "anything's possible" wish, I would probably ask that everyone just instantly became kind to each other. There were too many wives and children – and men for that matter – living in hurtful relationships, there were too many gangs, too many terrorists, too many conflicts, too many wars. Imagine what would happen if everyone just became... a little bit kinder. I took a deep breath and let the romantic dream of an instantly better world float away as I exhaled. There was no way to quick-fix the world, it took hard work, dedication... and faith. I had to keep believing, I had to trust that what I was doing would build a better world, that one good deed would lead to another, then another in a chain-effect, spreading kindness. Elena came walking back, this time sitting down beside Rose and taking her hand. "We're going to do one last, difficult thing before we send you off and on your way," Elena said softly "we're going to take pictures, documenting your superficial injuries. And then I'm going to take care of those few that still need caring for, ok?" I felt Rose tensing and turned her way, to see if she needed help or possibly some persuading to make her go, to do what needed to be done. Elena saw me moving and looked at me, her eyes dark, blank and slightly red-rimmed. "Sean, you'll have to wait here for us," she told me, using her serious voice "and when we come back you need to take her somewhere safe. Not to your house or Edward's, take her to my mom's hideout." They walked away and I stared at them, feeling more useless than ever. The way Elena had looked and the way she had emphasized that I needed to keep Rose safe made frustrated anger bubble up inside of me again, what had that damned husband of hers done that made my cousin react so strongly? The anger made me restless, and I stood up and walked the length of the room, soon realizing that the four steps I could comfortably overtake the room with would force me to turn and turn again ridiculously often. And I figured that doing push-ups or sit-ups just to keep moving would be even more ridiculous. I exhaled loudly and sat down again, nervous energy bouncing through me, my legs bouncing with it. I didn't like waiting, not being able to do anything but sit and listen to a nearby clock that kept ticking. It reminded me of the bad old times, when waiting and keeping silent were the only two things I could do, when my mother had begged me to stay away, to hide. I ran my hands through my hair, pulling it hard out of the combined frustration of waiting and remembering. My mother had died from an actual fall down the stairs; she had died when she had tried to alert me that my father was home and that he had brought his friend, the whiskey he seemed to love more than his family. I had been told that there was nothing I could have done to save her, but I still saw it as my biggest failure, and I always came back to the same thought – I wish I had told someone sooner, before it was too late. Stuck in the bitter thoughts of my past I didn't hear them when they came walking. I looked up to the picture of two lovely but red-eyed women, my cousin keeping an arm around Rose and waving for me to get my butt moving. "Sean will make sure you're safe," Elena told Rose "or else he'll have to deal with me!" I walked up and put my arm around the once again trembling woman, then walked her out of the room and out of the hospital. I helped her to my car and watched her as she sat down then closed the door before I stepped away to take my own seat. "We're going to go my aunt's house just a few miles outside of the city." I told her before I started the car and started making my slow way through the afternoon traffic. Rose had closed her eyes and I didn't try to make conversation, but concentrated on driving and on taking us as fast, and as safely, as possible to my aunt's place. My aunt owned a small house in the countryside, the place she called her "hideout", where she went when she needed to get away from the city. I wondered if I should call and see if she was out there, but since I knew where the spare key was hidden – even though I had warned her about the dangers of having just that – I chose not to call ahead. After what seemed like too many minutes in the silent car, I finally turned off onto the small and bumpy road that would take us down to the tiny lake where my aunt had found her dream house a few years ago. As I got closer, I saw her car parked in the driveway and when I pulled my car up beside hers, she came out through the door laughing and waving. I walked around the car and opened the door for my passenger, who was staring with wide eyes out the window. "That's your aunt?" she asked in a whisper. "Yes, that's my aunt – Gabriella Perez" I answered before turning with a wide smile to greet my favorite – and admittedly one and only – aunt. I pulled Rose out of the car and saw my aunt's eyes go wide as she saw who I had brought with me. Did they know each other? "Rose," my aunt called out before she pushed me to the side and threw her arms around Rose "I can't believe you're here. You've finally gotten away!" "Gabriella..." Rose whispered with tears running down her face. As my aunt pulled Rose with her into the house, I stood there staring at them, surprised at what I was seeing. We truly lived in a strangely small world. Flower Ch. 06 I woke up, the warmth and light of the morning sun pulling me from my sleep, and for a few seconds I didn't know where I was, but then it all came back to me. I was safe, at least for now, sleeping in a borrowed t-shirt, in the tiny guest room in Gabriella's house. I was lying in a somewhat sagging bed on sheets made soft by the many times they'd been washed, covered by an old, heavy quilt that had at first made me feel constrained but that now somehow made me feel less anxious and almost... secure. I stretched and tried to ignore the slight stings from sore muscles and bruised skin, even though I knew that not thinking about bad things wouldn't actually make them go away. One thing that most certainly wouldn't go away was a pressing need to visit the ladies room. I sighed and sat up; it would have been nice to stay in bed for just a little while longer, after all, I didn't have to follow a strict daily plan anymore, did I? I backed out of the guest room, smiling at the tiny flowers that covered the wall and the only slightly larger flowers that someone had put in a teacup on the windowsill. The room looked like it was made for a small princess, and I could almost imagine the shelf on the wall holding books for children, the wooden box in the corner being filled with toys and a giggling baby girl lying in the bed I had slept in. I sighed and smiled sadly at the thought of the daughter I would never have. My biological clock kept ticking, but even if I sometimes I dreamt about children of my own, I kept reminding myself that there was no sense living in a world of what if's. I closed the door both to the room and to my pink princess dreams and turned around to the picture of a slightly gaping, wide eyed Sean. I had forgotten that the room was directly connected to the kitchen. I tugged at my t-shirt and walked quickly out of there, my face red and embarrassed, needing to take care of that increasingly urgent matter. Minutes later I stood staring at my face in the mirror, scanning my image for signs of the life I had lived and the escape I had made. My skin was pale, my eyes big and sad-looking and there was a tightness around my mouth that I hadn't seen before. I sighed and shook my head; I was still scared, little old me. And without makeup and the smile I had worn day in and day out, this was as good as it got. Gabriella knocked softly on the bathroom door and told me she'd put some clothes for me to wear on the chair just outside the room. Oh good, I thought, at least I wouldn't have to parade almost naked in front of a wide eyed police officer again. I sneaked the door open and quickly retrieved the bundle of clothes. The pants and sweater set Gabriella had brought me was soft and a bit larger than my usual size, but I didn't feel like wearing anything tight and constraining anyway; I liked feeling soft and smooth and... free. I walked back into the kitchen feeling shy and awkward, tugging at the sweater and biting my lower lip. I tried to avoid looking at Sean, not wanting to add embarrassment to the insecurity I was feeling. Instead I looked at Gabriella, who of course pointed me to a chair across the table from her nephew, effectively spoiling my efforts at ignoring him. I sat down and I looked at the dark-haired man in front of me, there really wasn't much else I could do. He sat staring fixedly at his plate, as if he was also trying to avoid looking at me. I looked up at Gabriella as I heard her laugh quietly. She was glanced at her tense and tired-looking nephew before muttering something about silly boys and pretty girls. I looked back at Sean just in time to see his face turn just a few shades redder; Gabriella's continued low laughter made me think that she had seen it as well. It felt good to know that it wasn't just me that had felt the tension and embarrassment of our early morning meeting. I looked away and tried to familiarize myself with the small kitchen, finding it just as nice as Edward's, with the same lived-in feeling, but without the many memory items. Despite my newfound fascination for kitchen areas I just couldn't keep glancing at the man in front of me, his face somehow drawing me in. I realized that I had come to rely on his face to tell me the small things I wanted to know, because it didn't lie but was always completely honest. He really did look tired, and I wondered if he had been up all night, since the house only had two rooms and two beds, or if he had gone home. "Did you go home to sleep last night?" I asked him, before taking a small sip of the strong coffee Gabriella had poured and given me. "No..." he answered, stretching his back and neck "I slept in the car..." "He didn't want to leave us poor women out here all alone," Gabriella added with a little bit of bite in her tone "and he put his stubborn face on, so I knew there was no way to talk him out of it!" The small giggle that bubbled up at the thought of that particular facial expression, that I knew so well, was stopped by the realization that Sean felt we needed protection, and that meant we weren't as safe as I had felt just minutes ago. I sighed, surprised that I had actually been able to suppress the bad thoughts for a short while even though I knew that no one would be safe until my husband was caught. I looked down at my hands, sighed again and took another sip of coffee. Movements on the other side of the table made me look up to follow Sean's hands as he quickly assembled a sandwich. I smiled as I watched him dig deep holes in the previously flat surface of the butter, and thought about Edward and his short list of bad habits. It seemed I had found one more thing they had in common, in addition to the heart-shaped birthmark. I wondered if Sean had the habit of singing in the shower too, but that thought led me to distinctly kitchen-inappropriate thoughts about birthmarks on butts in showers, and I forced myself to start making a sandwich, hoping that busy hands would mean that my mind became a little less... preoccupied. I took a bite of my sandwich and turned to face the window, admiring the view of the small, glittering lake, calm beneath the clear blue sky. I understood why Gabriella loved this place, with a small forest beyond the house, a simple garden in front of it and just a few hundred steps below it, the small lake. Size-wise it wasn't much, but the view and the feel of the place made it so infinitely precious. I sighed, let my head rest on my left hand and kept looking out the window. I really didn't need all that much in my life, I thought; a small house, a garden, a kitchen full of memories and someone that sang in the shower and didn't feel the need to hurt me would be more than enough. "Please try to eat," Sean said, his words hurried "you need to stop worrying about other people and start taking care of yourself." I realized I was still holding the half-eaten sandwich and quickly finished it off. Before I could turn back to my dreams of a happier future, he handed over another sandwich, nodding towards me and my hand. I looked at him, surprised and a little bit annoyed. What was it about him that kept making me feel edgy, instantly angry or annoyed? "Please stop trying to 'handle' me!" I answered, before I could stop my angry words. "I'm not... Well, I'm not trying to make you do anything you don't want to do... but you..." Sean said, his words tuning out as Gabriella started laughing. "What he's trying to say is that he's worried about you," Gabriella said "and he wants to make sure you're ok. You don't have to eat that sandwich, even though he did make it with his own two hands..." Gabriella put on a sad puppy face with big eyes and pouty, slightly trembling lips; her wickedly laughing eyes betraying the pleading look she gave me. "You're not really helping..." Sean muttered and sent angry looks his aunt's way. Of course I knew he was just trying to be kind, but it seemed my temper was jumping all over the place all of a sudden. "I'm sorry," I answered "I didn't mean to snap at you, I just..." "... don't like being 'handled', right... got it..." Sean said, folding his hands in front of him and sighing softly "it's just... I don't want you hurt, or hungry, or sad... anymore... you know? And I thought... helping you..." I looked at his face and saw sincerity written on it. It seemed he only wanted to make sure I was ok, but I wasn't used to people doing kind things to someone they didn't know very well, unless they could somehow benefit from it themselves. But that didn't really explain the anger, did it? Perhaps it was the fact that he was kind and charming, in a cute and quiet sort of way, in addition to being extremely good-looking? I had after all fallen in the prince charming trap once before, hadn't I? "Aren't you heading off to work?" Gabriella asked Sean with glittering eyes "Because I think you've dug yourself sufficiently far down that particular hole, don't you? I wanted to know if I should go get a ladder so you could climb out and get going?" Sean stood up and walked out of the house muttering something about a law against relatives with smart mouths, that made me smile, if only for a short moment. It seemed that Gabriella and Elena had that particular habit in common, teasing poor Sean. Gabriella poured us both some more coffee and sat down in front of me as we heard a car start and drive away. She looked out the window with a smile on her face that made me think that the house was her "happy place", a very live and real version of the concept I'd been having difficulties even imagining. We sat there sipping coffee in silent companionship for a long while, and I thought about the way silence could feel so different depending on the company you kept. With Gabriella I felt happy, warm and safe. And cared for. And loved. Gabriella turned her dark eyes back to me and looked at me for a long while, her facial expressions coming and going, from anger, to sadness, to happiness and then back to sadness again. It seemed to me that she was stuck in memories of some sort and I sipped my coffee and let her process what needed to be processed, thinking that she would speak when she felt it was time to do so. I didn't have to wait for more than a few minutes before she straightened up and took a deep breath. "Sean is the son of my sister Isabella," she said, her voice low and sad "and I know I told you about her, that she was the reason I wanted to help you?" I nodded and folded my hands on the table, both wanting to hear the story she seemed intent on telling and dreading it, because I wasn't sure I could stand to hear the story if it reminded me of my own, or if I could handle her sadness as she told it. "Isabella actually was my big sister, a bright and beautiful woman destined for great things, or so it seemed when I was just a clumsy, spotty pre-teen. Her life always seemed so perfect, with good grades, good friends, and her always perfect looks. And since we had a good eight years between us, we didn't grow as close as we could have. And of course I was envious, who wouldn't have been, being stuck with a too perfect sister; I guess there were even times when I hated her a little as she patted my head and said something about my looks with pity in her voice. So we grew up and grew apart slightly more and more for every year that passed. And the final blow to our sisterhood came when the prettiest girl went and met the handsomest man, the way all fairytale's are supposed to end, but with the addition of me falling not so secretly in love with "her intended", their perfect wedding almost breaking my youthful heart in two." She took a short break and looked out the window again, probably thinking back or perhaps collecting her thoughts and bracing herself against the storm of feelings I could see running across her face. As an only child I would never know what it felt like to lose your sister, and in her case she had done so twice - first by growing apart, then at her sister's unfortunate, premature death. "It wasn't long before she was pregnant, and when I met her from time to time when she was carrying Sean she looked more radiant than ever. Of course it didn't take me more than a few weeks to get over my infatuation with her husband, so we could all meet in relative calm for the odd family dinner. We still didn't talk to each other as sisters though, only as a grown woman to a young girl with no real heart-to-hearts about what her life was like, and I shared just as little. But as far as I could tell, that first year as newlyweds was perfectly fine." Another short break had me thinking about my first year as a newlywed and I fought the sick feelings that always tried to drown me when I walked down that path in memory land. Luckily Gabriella continued her story just a few breaths later. "As the years passed we met even less than we had before, and it seemed that the little family didn't need either relatives or friends, because there were no more family dinners and no more socializing with close friends. I didn't think that it was such a strange thing then; I thought it was just the way it was once you had children. I remember that my mother was worried about something, but she didn't share those worries with me, and since I was a teenager with raging hormones by that time, I suppose I had problems of my own. I met my sister by accident in the store a couple of times, and noted that having children seemed to have a bad effect both on your looks and your nerves, because I could tell she didn't even brush her hair anymore, and she jumped and screamed when I tapped her on the shoulder to say hi." She laughed bitterly and continued. "And yes, it's kind of usual to let yourself go a little once you get children, there are page upon page written on that particular subject, but I should have noticed her scared eyes and the way she was frightened of a simple touch. I should have seen her pale tiredness, the way she kept losing weight, and that she started wearing long-sleeved, turtleneck t-shirts in the middle of summer. There were so many small signs pointing in a direction I never even had a thought of looking in." "She didn't want anyone to see, she didn't want anyone to know..." I whispered, blinking back tears. "No, you're probably right about that," she whispered back "but I so wish that I had seen... that someone had seen the signs, and tried to help her. In fact, I think there must have been people – like my mom – who suspected that something was more than wrong, and perhaps they did ask questions and perhaps they did try to help, but failed. And Isabella kept living what must have been a miserable life for thirteen years, until she fell down the stairs – and yes it was an accident – broke her neck and then... she was just... gone." She sighed and dabbed her eyes with a small piece of paper. "And that could have been the end of the story, if it wasn't for the then thirteen-year-old Sean. You see, for every year that passed with me entirely unaware of what was going on in that small family, another year of complete awareness passed for Sean. He lived and breathed the evil deeds of his father and the pain of his mother year after year. He was taught lessons about human nature that no kid should ever have to learn. He was taught to run, to hide and to keep silent, because if you couldn't be found you wouldn't be hurt. He was afraid, then as he grew older he became angry and frustrated." Tears were streaming down my face, and I thanked my lucky star for my barren state and inability to give birth. The thought of bringing a child to life in the world I had been living in turned my stomach, and my breaths became fast and shallow as panic gripped me. I closed my eyes and concentrated on taking deep, slow breaths to stave off the attack, and when I felt calm enough I looked up at Gabriella, who was pressing two paper tissues to her eyes and kept swallowing, possibly to keep from crying. She continued to tell me her story, her voice thick from the tears she was fighting. "If that boy had been forced to stay with his father after the death of his mother, then his story probably would have ended just as badly as hers. And I still think that what he did at his mother's funeral was one of the most courageous things I've seen, even though he still beats himself up for not doing it much sooner. What he did was to walk up to the most powerful grown-up he could think of, which happened to be his uncle, to tell him about his father and the way he had treated his wife and son. I'm so glad that Edward listened right there and then, and I'm always going to be grateful that he fought so hard to get Sean out of that house." I nodded, thinking that the Edward I knew would have fought hard indeed to protect his nephew. I thought about what I knew about the family, and it suddenly hit me that Sean had told me he'd been living with his aunt, not his uncle. If the uncle had made sure that Sean had gotten away from his father, wouldn't it then have been natural for him to live with his uncle instead? "Sean told me he'd been brought up by you, not by Edward?" I hesitantly asked. "Well, you've met Edward and you know what a kind man he is," Gabriella answered "and once he'd been able to get Sean away from his father, he sat Sean down and gave him two options, either he could come live with him and his wife, or he could go live with me and my then four-year-old daughter; no matter what choice Sean made Edward promised he would make sure he was taken care of. I still don't know what made Sean chose to come live with me, but perhaps he felt safer in a household with only women, or perhaps he saw the need to come to our rescue. Whatever it was I have never once been sorry that I took him in. I'm not saying it was easy to take on a teenage boy, especially since Sean carried a lot of frustration and guilt after his mother death, but with the help of Edward and his wife we managed to see him through the first few tough months." She seemed to pull herself together, and even managed a small smile. "I just wanted you to know that there are very good reasons why Sean is the way he is, angry but kind, and above all protective, sometimes to an annoying degree. He carries the world on his shoulders, that boy, and he can't stand seeing anyone being mistreated in any way. He also has a tendency to become too serious sometimes, which is probably why I keep teasing him. I love him deeply and I'm so grateful that he's come out of his ordeal with his heart intact." I felt deeply ashamed of the way I had snapped at him and the way I kept going from annoyed to angry when I spoke to him. If there was a way to unsay some of the things I had said, I would have gladly payed a royal sum for that possibility. "I'm not going to yell at him again," I whispered "I promise!" "Don't make any promises you can't keep," Gabriella answered with a smile "just keep in mind that he's not as bad as he sometimes seems." I nodded, silently promising myself to stay calm and be friendly when he was around. That shouldn't be too hard, should it? I helped Gabriella clean up and do the dishes, realizing that it had been years since I had last helped out in the kitchen. I remembered when my father and I had spent the evenings together, chatting and cleaning up after dinner. It was a carefree and uncomplicated time in a home where love and respect were natural components, something I had naively assumed was the very foundation in every family. My thoughts were yet again interrupted, this time by the shrill signal of Gabriella's phone. I shamelessly listened in on her conversation; it seemed that someone – I guessed it was Sean – was coming back because someone else – a woman – was coming over to talk to us. There was also something about the woman knowing too much, which made me think that they were probably talking about Mary. When Gabriella ended the phone call she confirmed my suspicions. Flower Ch. 06 "Sean's friend Mary is driving over to talk to us and Sean is bringing Edward here so we can all be either interrogated or informed, as he so nicely put it." "Mary is one of my friends too," I said with a small smile "and 'a bit of both' is probably the true answer to the interrogation/information question." "I've only met Mary twice," Gabriella answered with a smile "but I would say you're probably right. I liked her the moment I met her though. I even started hoping that she and Sean would find each other, because he really seemed to like her without going all hopelessly goggle-eyed. He's even able to speak in full sentences when she's around, imagine that!" I felt a short stab in my chest at what she was saying; Sean and Mary? And that strange feeling, as if someone was squeezing my heart, could it be some sort of aftereffect from him saving me, a mild hero worship of some sort? Or had my soft heart decided that I wanted Sean for myself? "I figured it out when I saw them together the second time we met though. She wasn't a true girl in his eyes, probably because of the way she kept talking to and laughing at him; she was just one of the boys to him." My breathing evened out and I felt annoyed, this time at myself. Mary would be perfect for Sean, the way she kept teasing him, just the way Gabriella and Elena did, the way she independently walked her own path in life, the way she seemed perfectly able to take care of herself, and the whole world for that matter. Sean wouldn't need to keep up his protective ways around my friend, she would protect him instead. I nodded, my mind deciding that the idea was a sound one, despite the whispered complaints from somewhere deep inside of me. Gabriella asked if I wanted to take a short walk down to the lake with her and I agreed, thinking that sitting in the kitchen waiting would be painful enough even without my current conflicting thoughts and emotions. We walked in silence and I let my eyes take in the calm, beautiful scenery around us. I tried to think if had ever been in a place that felt as peaceful as this one, but was unable to find even a childhood memory of something quite like it. When I grew up my life had been happy and full of love, and as I had been an active, energetic child, calm really hadn't been something I strived to achieve. But now it felt like a precious gift, a place and time where I could just rest, restore some of my lost energy and collect the still shattered pieces of my true self. "Thank you!" I whispered to Gabriella as we stopped by the edge of the lake. Gabriella smiled back at me and bent down to run her fingers through the water. I crouched beside her, pushing my hands into the lake, surprised at the warmth of the water and the way that the repetitive motions of my hands sent me into an even calmer, almost meditative, state of mind. We sat there for quite some time before the sound of an engine disrupted the calm around us. We walked slowly and silently up towards the house and was met by a sleek silver car and a slightly rumpled Mary jumping out of it. She came walking towards us, looking tired but with eyes that were still as alert as always. Somehow, as much as Sean's face and mouth seemed to get my attention, in Mary's case it was always her eyes that drew me in. It wasn't until Gabriella gasped and called out "what's happened?" that I looked at her properly and found that her lips were swollen and cracked. "The short story is that I needed the help of an old friend, and one of his conditions – we didn't exactly part on good terms the last time we met – was that he'd get to hit me, just once. Don't worry, he hits like a girl... you know, a girly girl. And if Sean asks what happened, I fell asleep by my computer, fell off the chair and hit my face on a metal box underneath the table. Ok?" I nodded, my head filled with thoughts about the strange ways of the world and men hitting women until I realized I still didn't know what had happened to Susan. "And Susan then?" I asked, keeping my voice low, trying to draw some strength from the calm that seemed to have deserted me once more "Did she fall and hit her face too?" "No," Mary answered "she was hit by a guy at work, a real piece of shit according to public and not so public records. But he's being handled as we speak. And well, Susan's being taken care of too, but in a slightly different, and very much better, way." The wicked smile she sent my way, her eyes twinkling, amused by some secret knowledge, made me smile back at her, curious but happy that Susan's "situation" had been taken care of. I thought about asking more questions, but the sound of another car made me turn towards driveway. Edward came walking towards me, hesitating slightly before pulling me into a warm hug. A happy bark separated us and I laughed softly as a big, goofy dog came running up to us, pushing his head under my hand. I dropped to my knees and patted and hugged him, and got licked in the face a couple of times in the process. I laughed out loud as Alfred circled around me and then came back for more hugs and "kisses", a wonderfully freeing laughter, full of love and joy. Sean introduced Edward and Mary, and Alfred, to each other before we all walked into the small kitchen. With extra chairs from the other rooms we all managed to fit at the small table, with Gabriella at the head of the table, Mary and Edward on one side and me and Sean, and Alfred, on the other side. Sean was sitting really close, his arm softly touching my arm, sending zings of energy through me on one side, with Alfred sitting on the other side of me, his warm head in my lap, sending waves of calm the other way. I could almost feel the zings and waves meeting inside me, the golden energy of human attraction calmed by the soothing blue waves of canine love. I let my self be rocked back and forth by the feelings inside of me as Sean asked Mary what had happened to her face and Mary gave her "it was an accident" answer, before cheekily asking him if he wanted to kiss it and make it all better. I felt Sean's arm tightening slightly before he blew out a frustrated breath and refused to answer her question. That "thing" deep inside of me was happy when he leaned away from Mary and seemed to settle in closer to me instead. With short, quick sentences, Mary started telling us about the progress she had made in her attempts at finding the information we needed. She had been able to hack something – I didn't quite understand what – to find still pictures of women, but had failed to find any films or other material that tied my husband to any evil doings. She pulled her hair, looking a bit frustrated, before she told us about seeking out an old friend who was now helping her get through the last layer of security around some sort of cloud backup site she'd been unable to access by her own. She was confident that we'd have what we needed in just a few more hours. We spent at least two hours around that table as Mary asked us tell her everything about our lives. Edward told us about his father, his mother and brother, his fight to save Sean, his calm, loving life with his wife and his grief when she died. Gabriella told us shortly about her sister and her own life as a single mother before Sean came to live with her and Elena. Sean told us nothing about his life before he came to live with Gabriella, but had plenty of loving things to say about his relatives, and some things to say about his work as a police officer as well. I didn't think I'd be able to tell them about my life, but I managed to quickly outline what my life had been like, with the rules, the schedules and the punishments. I told them about the last week's change in my husband's temper and him no longer following his father's "no visible marks" policy. No one spoke as I continued my painstaking journey through memories previously untold. I didn't dare look at them as I spoke, but I felt Sean's reaction through my arm. He seemed to tense up, perhaps reading himself to jump up, run out, fight, to do something. When I told them about being pushed into the street twice and Sean saving me the second time it happened, it seemed he couldn't take it anymore, because he jumped up and stood, his hands going into tight fists. I sat silently looking at my hands waiting for him to sit down again, before I continued my story by telling them about the way my attempts at getting away from my husband had made me ask Josh for help, and the way Josh had responded when I had told him about my financial situation. We sat silent for a few minutes, all of us processing what we'd been told, before Mary started asking questions, seemingly skipping from unrelated event to unrelated event. When she asked me about the person that had pushed me, I answered as much as I could, with Sean adding what he knew. When Mary muttered under her breath that "it didn't fit in the pattern" and something about "unknown factor", I tried to follow her reasoning, but my tired mind refused to help, because it was occupied processing the feelings that Sean's protective arm around my shoulders was generating. I almost laughed out loud at the zing-a-ding-ding sound that seemed to be ringing in my head. Mary stood up and looked at us all, raising an eyebrow as she saw Sean's arm around me. I could almost see the teasing words that were on her tongue before she shook her head and asked me to walk her out to the car. Sean stood up and pushed himself against the wall to let me out of the kitchen, and I passed him quickly, my cheeks going red as I took care to make sure I touched him as little as possible on the way out. Mary told Sean to call his contact at the homicide unit, to alert him that they would have what they needed soon, and to make sure that they would have a team that could be trusted available on short notice. We walked up to Mary's car, and as she stopped, leaned against the driver door and looked at me she probably saw my red cheeks, but she thankfully didn't comment on it. She sighed, ran her fingers through her hair and started talking, keeping her voice low. "We have a plan, something tangible that we're working on to capture the devil you married, and to free you from the life you should never, ever have had to live. But at this point, when I can't do anything to help, when I can only await the result of someone else's efforts, all this anger and frustration that I have inside is almost killing me. I need to kick something, break things or scream. Or... I can find another way of using this energy I have inside... but I wanted to ask your approval first. It seems that your husband's family haven't really treated you right either. And I wanted to ask you if you'd be very sorry if I put some effort into breaking down the little empire they've built for themselves? I am quite capable of tearing it and them into tiny, little, non-important pieces of pocket lint. So may I... please?" Perhaps it's true that we all have a vengeful side to us, that it's built into our human nature to get mad, to get even, but that wasn't the only reason why I nodded to her before she drove away. If the family treated one of its own the way they treated me, what were the odds that they treated other people even worse? I smiled as I saw Mary speeding away, thinking that powerful female friends were even better than my previous short thought about finding myself a powerful man. And I was sure that the wrath of this particular woman, although not scorned in the true sense of the word, would mean hell on earth for those deserving of it. Flower Ch. 07 I woke up, habitually silencing the scream that was building inside of me. After one night of calm, relaxing sleep, my night terrors had finally found their way back; stronger than ever, it seemed. The effect of this particular dream had me lying tense but shivering in bed, the long, old nightgown that Gabriella had given me, with a laugh, twisted around me, as if I'd been turning and tossing for quite some time. I wondered if the fact that I was now free, or at least a few steps on the way to freedom, was why a dream about being hunted and caught felt more frightening than ever. It was almost as if hope, friendship and love created new paths and chambers inside of me, that fear and panic could more easily travel and fill. Actually being able to see a way out, that famous light in the tunnel, was filling me both with hope and dread. And in the night with no one around to help calm my fears, the sheer terror of thinking that perhaps I wouldn't be able to get away after all, had my muscles tensing almost to the point of cramping, kept my breaths shallow and made tears run down my face. I got out of bed and walked up to the window, my thoughts a whirling mess. I took deep, calm breaths and looked out the window, seeing the full moon play hide and seek with a few tiny, whisper thin clouds. The lake was calm, with a few small waves glittering magically in the moonlight, and I felt drawn to it. Remembering the calming effect of the short walk down there the day before I quickly decided to see if it could help me once more. I pulled the flowery quilt from the top of the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders, quietly opened the door to my room, borrowed a pair of old boots and stepped out into the night. The night air was surprisingly warm and I felt quite comfortable wrapped up in Gabriella's old quilt. I walked down to the lake, found a smooth, flat, large stone that was tilting slightly towards the water, and sat down. My feet almost touched the surface of the lake as I stretched my legs out towards it on sitting down, but my need for comfort had me curling up, my legs pressed close to my body, arms wrapped around them, my head resting on my knees. My thoughts were still twisting and turning. Perhaps it wasn't possible to ever be entirely free, to feel completely safe? Perhaps I would still be stuck in this sticky web for the rest of my life, no matter if the spider was taken care of or not. What if I would always be this scared, what if I could never trust again? What kind of a miserable existence would that be? I thought about the way that I had found hope, friendship and human kindness, the way I had started thinking about a brighter future with a place, and a kitchen, of my own. But the darkness of my previous thoughts kept creeping into those brighter ones, all ending in thoughts of a bleak future where I was still waking up every single night, screaming and shaking. I sat there, thinking and rethinking, jumping between bright ideas and dark notions, going back and forth, until I couldn't stand it anymore. I removed my boots and scooted down towards the water, pushing my feet into it, then leaning forward just enough to be able to push my hands into the soothing liquid as well. I let my toes wiggle and my fingers dance in the water, keeping my mind focused on the sensory information sent up through my legs and arms, making a concentrated effort at calming myself, breathing slowly and deeply. But the calm wouldn't come, and peace would just linger for short moments before lifting off and flying away. I lifted my hands out of the water and looked at the pale, clean, blank surface of them. I so wished there was a way to become clean like that, on the inside, as well as on the outside. A way to be free from all the memories, all of the nightmares, all of the worries and anxieties. Almost choking from the sadness that kept filling those deep holes inside of me, I stood up and started walking out into the water. My slow steps and the water caressing my feet and then legs calmed me, pushing back the darkness once more, and I kept walking. When the water reached my thighs I stopped and stood, letting my hands and arms dance a silent dance in the water, creating my own waves that the moon could play and flirt with. The sad cry from a lonely bird some distance away stilled my hands, but made me start up my slow walk once more. In the company of the moon and the lake, I didn't feel quite as lonely as before, and the sweet caress of the water made me calm, kept my mind blank, chased my fears away. I kept taking one step after another, growing calmer and more certain as the water reached higher and higher up my body, almost sensing a calming effect on my heart as the water reached my breasts, making my nipples tighten in cold delight. Another step, then another until I was finally completely covered by water. All impressions, senses and thoughts finally calmed by the stillness of the lake. True freedom at last. One last thought lingered, about the true circle of life perhaps being more closely related to water than to earth, ash and dust. A sad smile covered my face before I closed my eyes and let myself sleep, some final pictures of my life spinning through my mind, from water, to in sickness and health and then back to water again. * * * * * A soft sound woke me from my light slumber and I stretched and rubbed my eyes, not quite as instantly alert as my self-imposed guard duty really required. Sleeping in the car really wasn't all that great. And waking up all of the time from the sounds of nature and wildlife just going about their business didn't really help. With a large yawn I studied my surroundings, quickly scanning the area between the lake, the road and the house, before turning my eyes to the nearby building, seeing a pale shape closing the front door slowly. I almost didn't need the light of the full moon to be able to recognize the person in front of me. She looked adorably rumpled, her hair tousled and her body covered by a wrinkled old nightgown, an old quilt covering her shoulders, boots about three sizes too big covering her feet. At least she was wearing slightly more clothes than the previous morning's too short t-shirt, thank god for small mercies. She walked slowly down towards the lake and I watched her, trying to gauge her mood, wondering if I should make myself known to her, not knowing if my presence would be a comfort or an annoyance, or perhaps most worrying of them all, if it would frighten her. She sat down on a flat stone by the water and pulled herself into a small Rose-shaped ball. I kept looking at her, aware that not even an earthquake or a laughing relative would have been enough to make me stop doing just that. I saw a small, sad-looking shape sitting by the water, her hair long and blond, seeming almost white in the pale moonlight, her skin and clothes just as white, as if she was made out of some rare, pure fairytale substance. I was filled, almost to the point of choking, with feelings of awe and worship - somehow natural in the presence of that ethereal, angel-like fairy creature - but also with feelings of sadness and helplessness, because I had no way of removing her pain or erasing her memories. I didn't even know how to approach her, how to reach out to someone who'd been hurt that deeply, heart, body, mind and soul. Not liking those feelings of helplessness, that reminded me of those early years I would rather forget, I decided that trying, not matter how unsuccessfully, was better than standing - or sitting - idly by. I carefully, silently eased the car door open and stepped out into the night. I stretched my stiff muscles and stifled a groan at the pain in my neck and shoulders. I wouldn't be able to sleep in the car even one more night, so it was time to convince Gabriella to pack up and move back into the city. I turned my eyes back to the pale, almost ghost-like, shape by the lake and saw her remove her boots and put first her feet and then her hands in the water. I kept looking at her, every heartbeat, every breath concentrated on her movements, as if she was caressing me as well as the water. When she stood up, let the quilt fall off her shoulders and started walking out into the water it was almost as if my heart and breath stopped for just a few seconds. Some part of me wanted to reach out for camera, a paint brush, anything that would help me document the purity, the calm, the beauty of that night, with the moon, the lake and the woman. She kept walking, but stopped just as the water reached her hands, and I saw her swaying, moving her arms, almost dancing in the thigh-high water. Without conscious thought I started walking towards her, drawn by some invisible string, needing to get closer, to be near her. As I reached the edge of the lake she started walking again, and the magical feeling started slipping away from me. My muscles tensed as she kept walking and fear gripped me when her head disappeared under water. I ran out into the lake, silently cursing myself for not realizing what she was about to do, praying that I'd be able to reach her in time. I dove into the water, searching for her body with my arms and legs, the light of the moon not strong enough to penetrate the water surface, not strong enough to let me see where she was. A desperate cry wanted to part my lips and send the last of my breath to the surface, when my fingers finally found her hair and my hands could grip her around the arms to pull her up and out of the water. Her arms were slack and it didn't seem like she was breathing, so I hoisted her up in my arms and started walking towards the stone she'd been sitting on. I half-ran to my goal, fighting the water every step of the way, cursing my foolish romantic ideas about beautiful women taking moonlight swims, fully dressed. Desperately praying once more that I wasn't too late, that I'd be able to save her. I didn't want this; not one more useless death, not one more person dying because of my inability to save her, not one more loved one gone, never to be seen again. Perhaps it was my quick movements that jolted her back to her senses, because before I reached dry land again she started coughing and spitting up water. When she finally managed to take a short breath and then another I realized I was holding my own breath and had to force myself to inhale and exhale at the same time as she did. She was lying still in my arms, but I felt a change in her just a few seconds later. It was as if it took some time for her to sort out where she was, but the very moment she realized that she was being held and carried by someone, I felt her body tensing up, then she started to fight my hold, squirming and flaying her arms around in circles. A low, complaining cry escaped from her tight lips and I started talking to her, explaining what was happening, telling her that I didn't want her to die, telling her that she had to live. I reached the stone and sat down heavily on top of it, still holding her in my arms. She continued her panicked fight against my hold, but I held her in my lap and talked and talked, not really sure what I was saying, just knowing that I had to get through to her, to calm her, to sooth her. It didn't take long before the fight just left her and she started trembling. I freed one of my hands, grabbed the old quilt and wrapped it around her back. I held her close and kept whispering soft words, until I could feel the fear and tension leaving her, until she turned her face into my chest and started crying, her body shaking from the deep sobs that were running through her. Her warm tears mixed with the cold water of the lake on my soggy sweater, and as I heard her expressing her deep sorrow I realized I was also crying. Big, silent tears were running down my face, and I could almost hear the squeaking hinges of the sealed door to my innermost fears and regrets as it opened slightly. I cried for Rose, for my mother, for myself, for every single tormented soul in the world and for the world in itself. I knew I had a tendency to keep my feelings bottled up, partly because I didn't know if I'd be able to stop the whirlwind of emotions if I opened myself to them, partly because, as a man, society dictated that I wasn't supposed to have, or at least not show, my weaker emotions. But by letting those feelings out, joining her in her sorrow, it felt like I was cleansing my soul, that the tears cleaned away my anger, my fear and my sadness. And I was filled with strength, calm and a feeling of absolute rightness. We sat there together in the night, on the stone, by the water, sharing the sorrow, the anger, the helplessness of our lives. It was almost like a slow, silent dance, where my body felt what she was feeling, where I could sense her emotions by the speed of her breaths, the rhythm of her heart, the tension of her muscles and the way her hand kept gripping or letting go of my sweater. No more words seemed necessary and I was grateful, because I was fully aware of her reactions to my previous attempts at talking, helping and trying to care for her. I didn't want this moment to end in anger and disappointment, so I just sat and held her close until the storm inside of her seemed to calm, until she silently leaned away slightly and looked at me, her eyes scanning my face. "I didn't mean to... I wasn't going to..." she whispered, her eyes begging me to believe her. I shook my head, and hugged her close again, letting my eyes and body tell her that she didn't need to worry, that I believed her and, above all, that she was safe. Almost without thinking I bent my head and pressed a kiss to the side of her face, letting my lips linger softly on her cheek, closing my eyes and relaxing with a renewed sense of rightness. It felt good to hold her in my arms, it felt like she belonged there, and I didn't ever want to let her go. I felt her muscles tighten before she leaned away once more. Her sad eyes caressed my face and I saw them soften a few degrees before she leaned back in and pressed her trembling lips against mine. I held my breath and kept absolutely still, instinct telling me that that moment of fragile trust and careful closeness had to be on her terms. Her kiss was soft and then a bit harder just for a short while before she leaned away and looked at me again. Through the sorrow, there was a bright glimmer of something new shining from her eyes. I felt hope and then, as she licked her lips and leaned back in, lust came riding on a wave of warm feelings of compassion and perhaps even love. Her kiss was warm, decisive, almost desperate in its nature, but I managed to hold myself back, to give her space, to let her control the pace, until she let her teeth nibble my lower lip. I might have groaned or growled, but from that moment passion pulled me under, and my mind no longer registered what was done, by whom and in what order. I just felt an all-consuming need to hold her, to kiss her, to let myself drown in the shivers she sent through my body, to celebrate every passionate response I could feel running through hers. The dance of sorrow replaced by a new, heavenly dance, where sadness and hopelessness had been chased away by comforting closeness and healing warmth. And underneath it all the certainty that we had both taken a few steps towards something better and brighter. Through my passion I felt her body starting to shake, and I pulled away to look at her. She was tired, wet, probably in a state of shock and I needed to get her indoors and in a new set of warm clothes straight away. I kissed her cheek and whispered "dry clothes, now" before I helped her up and then stood on slightly shaking legs. I didn't want to let go of her, so I held her hand and walked her towards my car, quickly grabbing a set of clothes from the trunk; my cold skin telling me that I needed to get out of my own wet clothes as well. We entered the house and she walked towards the tiny guest chamber to find some clothes. I stepped into the bathroom and quickly - or as quickly as wet clothes will allow you to - removed my lake-soaked things, realizing that my phone had been submersed along with the rest of me. I shook my head and thought that saving a person's life was well worth the cost of a new phone. Hell, in this particular case it was worth the cost of all the phones if the known world. I started hanging my things on one of the clotheslines, my mind filled with thoughts of Rose's hands touching and caressing me, and I realized that I would remember our short moment of passion, of sweet kissing, every single time I looked at that particular sweater. I would also remember the way she kept grabbing the soft cloth of it, in pain and frustration, and the way I was able to help her, to support her in her time of need. I was happy I'd been able to comfort her and surprised that my actions had helped relieve some of the dark feelings I'd been carrying inside of my own self for so long. The helpless sorrow I'd been hiding from the world, and perhaps even myself, suddenly felt so much easier to bear. After hanging my clothes, I walked out of the room and was met by a cold, shivering Rose. She was carrying the clothes she'd been wearing just a few hours ago and seemed not to want to look at me. I couldn't stand the thought of going back to the awkwardness and embarrassment of our interactions the day before, so I took her hand as she passed me and squeezed it softly. She looked at me, gave my hand a quick press from her cold fingers and then walked into the bathroom. I waited in the hallway for her, thinking that I needed to say something before we parted but worrying how to end our joint nightly adventure in a positive way. Especially since I didn't want the night to end with us parting, because I didn't want to let her out of my sight. I bit my lower lip and ran my hands through my wet hair, before pushing my nervous fingers into my pockets to keep still. Perhaps the best way to end the night would be to wish her a good, restful sleep and return to the car, keeping a calm, straight face to hide my worries, wishes and longings. I heard the low click of the bathroom door unlocking and turned towards it, my good-night-sleep-tight wishes hanging on the tip of my tongue. She looked nervous and anxious, and my worry found new strength as she walked closer and looked up at me with large, scared eyes. "I want... could you please hold me? I don't want to be alone" she whispered before taking my hand in hers and leading me into the small guestroom. Stunned, I followed her, thinking that some wishes did indeed come true quicker than others. She closed the door behind us and I climbed into the small bed, keeping my clothes on, for warmth and protection. With me lying on my back, there was just enough room for her to climb in beside me, sideways, with her head on my shoulder and her arm across my torso. And as she settled in, I let my arm hug her close before I exhaled slowly, the surprise, almost shock, of her invitation making my heart beat too fast, my breaths too fast and shallow. I felt her body relaxing, and before long she was sleeping safely in my arms. I felt her body next to, partly on top of, mine and I knew I would always cherish this moment. I closed my eyes and let her calm breaths lull me to sleep. * * * * * I jolted awake and sat up with a gasp. What had happened and where was I? My body started tilting slightly to the left, and I realized that one wrong move would have me falling out of bed. The small bed in the guestroom, in Gabriella's house. The small bed, now filled to the brim with a large mountain of a man who was sleeping peacefully by my side. My tired questions were instantly answered by my quickly awakening mind. Flower Ch. 07 I looked at Sean, sleeping on his back, his right arm partly covering his eyes, his left lying on my pillow. His face was relaxed and he looked younger than I had ever seen him, his soft lips giving him a somewhat vulnerable appearance. Realizing that I had been sleeping close to, almost on top of him, for several hours, I felt myself go cold and then warm. I shouldn't have asked him to hold me, to sleep with me, but his presence had made me feel safe, and I had slept without disruptions, without fears. By now I knew I didn't need to be afraid of him, I knew I could trust him and, above all, that his presence seemed to chase away my nightmares. A small smile tickled my lips as I kept looking at him, his big body crowding the bed. He seemed thoroughly out of place in the small princess room. I slowly lowered my body into bed again, and let my head rest on his chest. I could hear his heart beating; strong, heavy and slow heartbeats that made me feel even safer. I wrapped my left arm and leg around him, trying to get as close as possible to soak in his warmth and calm. I closed my eyes and started thinking about that night, wondering what had really happened and what it all meant. I remembered the moment when I had just let go of hope, of life, when the peace I was feeling was broken by two strong arms. I remembered the feeling of panic and fear as those arms took me away from the freeing embrace of the water. I remembered trying to fight to break free, to get back to that moment of absolute calm. But I couldn't remember taking a conscious decision to take my own life. I just wanted to be free from all of the thoughts, all of the memories, all of the pain. I really did want to live, to find my happy future, and I thanked my lucky star that I had been saved by my guardian angel once more. And he hadn't just saved me by dragging me out of the water, he had saved me by being there, by holding me, by talking to me, by crying with me and... by kissing me. I let my mind remember our shared kisses, rewinding and replaying every second of that wonderful moment by the lake. I didn't think I'd be able to feel tenderness again, didn't think my body had the ability to experience feelings of lust and passion anymore. I was happy that I'd been wrong, grateful that I hadn't lost all of myself to darkness and despair. But I was also a bit frightened of feelings that seemed too warm, too quickly. I thought about Sean, poor Sean, his pain so real, his nighttime tears not just for me. His whispered words, "not again", "not one more", "please... not her", reminding me of his history, the heavy burden he was already carrying inside his soul. I kept thinking about his life and his needs, wanting to believe that two broken human beings could make one whole, but was unable to discard the many bad things that stood between us. I heard his heartbeats speed up, as if he could tell I was thinking about him, and turned my face towards his to see if he was waking up. He was fully awake, looking at me, his face no longer soft and vulnerable, but serious and calm. He reached out and let his hand caress my cheek softly, letting his fingers linger on my skin, his thumb run slowly across my lower lip. I looked at the expressions that were coming and going on his face, the warmth in his eyes turning into heat and I reached for him, meeting him halfway in a careful, slow, tender kiss. He sat up and leaned against the head of the bed and I scooted up beside him. He took my hand as I settled in, my head once more leaning against his shoulder. We didn't speak, there was no need for words. He twined his fingers gently with mine and looked down at that small, soft point of sweet connection, before lifting my hand up and kissing it tenderly. He used his other hand to push some of my hair away before leaning in and pressing an equally soft kiss to the side of my face. I sighed and turned my face towards his, my mouth once more longing for his. The first gentle, tender moment quickly changed into heat and hunger with our continued kissing. He was met by no resistance when he pulled me into his lap, and his paus as he gauged my willingness to continue had me chasing his lips with mine. His wonderful lips, just as warm and soft as they had seemed as he slept, but also eager, hard, wet, hot, perfect. I was quickly caught back in the whirlwind of heat and passion as our bodies pressed ever closer to each other, our mouths, lips, tongues reaching for and finding sweet pleasure. Conscious thoughts were no longer present as we let our physical attraction play with our senses, let our bodies sway in the natural rhythm of want and lust, let our souls swim in the pure joy of shared pleasure. I woke up from my lust-filled, dreamlike reality, when his hands started caressing my body, when his fingers started to inch their way under my t-shirt, and I pulled away, desperate to stop him. I didn't want him to feel, I didn't want him to see... We sat in silence looking at each other, his hands around my waist, my hands holding his in a tight grip. I shook my head and he nodded, seeming to understand that we had reached a point that I felt we couldn't pass. I leaned back even further and closed my eyes, trying to calm my breaths. I was sure he didn't understand why I wanted to stop, why we couldn't go any further, because he didn't know. And there were no words to describe it, to explain that where I had once hated my body's pale perfection, I was now more than afraid of its brutal imperfection. I leaned back in and hugged him close, sad and afraid that the fragile lifeline that our shared passion had given me might be severed if he saw, or felt, the injuries on my upper body. I wanted to cry, but found I had no tears left inside of me. So I sat there, holding him, being held, wishing I was strong enough to tell him. My sad thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging sound followed by equally loud voices, before the door to my room opened with another bang and a wild-eyed Mary stepped in, hair on end. She took in the scene before her, stopped the words she was obviously about to yell out, and sat down heavily on the chair beside the door. She took a few deep breaths and leaned back, closing her eyes shortly. With her eyes closed she started talking, explaining her entrance in a few, short sentences. "I've been trying to reach you on the phone, Sean," she said "and when the tenth call went directly to the answering services I started to get a bit worried. I'm happy you're taking care of my friend, but since I'm still worried about the whereabouts of the devil-husband, it would have been nice to know that you were all still alive. On top of that I had something really important to tell you about our investigations, so... that's why I... you know... barged right in here... without knocking. I'm both sorry and not..." I looked at her as she was speaking and could tell that my friend was upset, her legs jumping up and down, her hands even shaking slightly. "My phone got drenched in the lake last night," Sean answered, regret coloring his words "I'm sorry, I should have let you know... but I..." Mary lifted her eyebrows slightly then wrinkled them, probably trying to think why Sean would have felt the need to throw his phone in the water. She looked at his face and then at mine, and the worry-wrinkle between her eyes deepened slightly. She jumped up and looked at us once more, biting her lower lip before asking me to take a short walk with her. I nodded and stumbled out of bed on slightly shaking legs. We walked out past a sleep-rumpled, surprised-looking Gabriella. I started walking towards the lake, but Mary grabbed my arm and pointed towards the small wooded area behind the house. I wondered if she had managed to understand the reason behind Sean's destroyed phone, but I didn't say anything, I just nodded and followed her into the trees. She stopped under one of the larger trees, sat down and leaned her back against it. I sat down beside her and waited for her to start talking. It was obvious she had something important she wanted to tell me. "We've found the films, and I've looked at them," she whispered, her voice slightly cracked "and there are a few scenes where your husband can be clearly identified, so it's safe to say that he's royally screwed. It worries me that none of my resources have been able to find him though, it makes me think that he's protected by someone smart enough to know how to cover his tracks. We're still looking though..." I just sighed and nodded, surprised that the worry I felt was more connected to Mary's obvious distress than that my husband was out there, somewhere. "Sarah and Susan are protected by a team of security experts, but I own a house just a few miles away, and I would like to bring all of you there, just for safety's sake. It's the most well-protected place that I know of and I need to know that you're all ok, because all this worrying is almost breaking me apart." I nodded once more, thinking that I would try my very best to convince Gabriella, Edward and Sean that we needed to do what Mary wanted us to. I saw my friend shaking her head slightly before exhaling and looking me in the eyes. "I'm not going to ask what you were doing in the lake last night, Rose," she continued "but please remember, that if you hurt yourself, you will hurt a lot of people in the process, people who love and care for you. Stay alive, keep breathing, and the rest will sort itself out with time, I promise. And Sean will help, I'm sure of it, he knows what you've been through. You just need to let him in." I nodded, before I blurted out the thought that kept spinning in my mind. "He doesn't know... I don't want him to see the wounds on my upper body, they're hideous. He'll be disgusted..." She looked at me with sad eyes before she jumped up and started pulling her usual black, long-sleeved t-shirt off her body. What was she doing? The answer was obvious as I looked at her body, seeing dark tattoos intercrossed by light scars. "Is it worse than this then?" she whispered, her eyes bent towards the ground. Looking up she probably saw my surprised look, my mouth and eyes wide open. "No? Not worse? Then I would say you have nothing to worry about. I don't know what your injuries are but I can tell you that superficial skin damage will most likely disappear completely, and deeper cuts will look red from the beginning but will be less obvious as time passes." She put her t-shirt back on and shook her head when I started to ask her what she'd been through. Her sad facial expression turned to her normal wickedly smiling one as she continued. "And... honestly, you'd be surprised how many girls there are who want to keep their t-shirt on when they're having sex. If you don't want to tell Sean why, just tell him you're shy. And then... rock on!" We walked back to the house in silence and was met by Sean, his eyes worriedly scanning the both of us, perhaps trying to see what we'd been talking about. "Sean," Mary said, her voice commanding "walk me to my car!" I looked at the driveway, realizing that Mary's car was nowhere to be seen. She started walking with fast steps away from the house in the direction of the main road and Sean followed her. She turned back to me and shouted "Love you!" before they disappeared behind a big bush and a couple of trees. I thought about everything she had said, thinking that her fast words always seemed to make so much sense. I wondered if I would ever see a day where she was wrong about something. God, I loved that woman. * * * * * I sat silently watching Mary and Rose leave the room. I had never seen Mary look that worried, and I cursed my thoughtlessness. But my mind had been, and was still, almost completely consumed by Rose and all of the feelings she'd awakened inside of me. And I cursed once more at the way passion had made me go too fast, had made want to tear her clothes off, the way she had had to stop me. Gabriella walked up to me and sat down on the bed, her face kept carefully blank, but her eyes telling me that she was worried, and perhaps a bit angry. She took my hand and held it in silence for a short moment before she started talking. "You'll be careful, won't you?" she asked me with a low voice "I'm not sure who to worry about more, you or her. I can't even tell if what you're doing is a good thing or a bad thing, but take care, walk slowly, listen to your heart, and hers." I nodded, unable to find words to answer her. I knew the slippery steps Rose would have to walk to begin a new life, I knew the pain and frustration that she would feel in her fight to overcome what she'd been through, I knew it would take all of her strength and that there might not be a place for me in her future life, but I still felt it was worth any price to see her through it all, even the price of my broken heart. I stood up, put my hand on Gabriella's shoulder, gave it a short squeeze and walked out of the room and out of the house. I walked back and forth outside the front door, hoping that I wouldn't have to wait for too long. The two women came walking towards to me, and with every step they took, my ability to breathe improved. They were safe, she was safe. And man, I was in big trouble. Mary looked at me, her eyes stormy, and told me to walk her to her car. Her serious expression and commandeering voice had me following her like a loyal soldier answering the call of his general. We walked in silence, until I could see her car parked on the side of the road. "I didn't know if you were safe, so I parked here so that the sound of the engine wouldn't alert the people who were holding you hostage... or whatever. I couldn't think of anything else that would make you shut your phone off." Mary said, her voice sounding slightly grumpy. She opened the passenger seat door, pulled out an official-looking paper box and held it in front of me. When I reached out to grab it she pulled back slightly and looked at me, her face even more serious than before. "This box has everything you need to get the bastard. It has documents, pictures, an external hard drive with all of the films and all of the material we've been able to find. It also has some interesting information about other parts of the family. And you can have it all, if you promise me two things..." I nodded, my arms still stretched out, eager to get my hands on something that could help destroy Rose's idiot husband. "You have to promise me to not look at the pictures and the films, to just hand it over to your homicide unit contact," she said, her penetrating stare fixated on me until I answered with a nod. "You also have to promise me to not tell anyone what I'm about to tell you now," she continued, her voice wobbling slightly. I answered with another nod and wondered what could possibly be worse than the contents of that box. "I've watched all of the films, and I tell you, there are so many good reasons why I don't want you to look at them. But that's not all..." she continued "most of the material have been filmed in a place that I know the address to..." I nodded, still thinking about the way the evidence I was holding in my arms would lead to a better life for Rose, until my slow mind realized what Mary was saying. "What... why... where?" I spluttered, still not overly impressed with the speed of my own thoughts. "This is not the place or the time to tell you the what's and the why's, but I can tell you the where's." she answered in a whisper "Someone has cleaned the place up slightly, painted the walls in another color, but its fundamental design is still the same... the room is still 23 feet long and 15 feet wide, the manacles on the wall are still placed high enough for a person to almost reach the floor with her toes, the walls still look smooth and soft, but are probably just as rough on your skin..." She stopped herself by putting both of her hands over her mouth, and I could see the panic that was shining from her eyes. She turned around swiftly and puked in the nearby ditch. And I stood there with a box in my hands and not enough brainpower to know what to do or even how to react to what she'd been saying. She stood up, dried her mouth on her long sleeve, turned back to the car and pulled a complex-looking phone out of the glove compartment and placed it on top of the box. "You'll find the address to the place on the hand-written paper on top of all of the other things in the box," she said as she walked around the car. "Now, get going, get it done and make sure it's done right and right-away. Because if the police force fucks this thing up, I won't be responsible for my actions!" I stood there like an idiot, mouth gaping, staring at her car as she speeded away. And then I started running, back to the house, back to my car. In the words of a very wise woman, it was time to get going, it was time to finally get things done!