Roswell Fanatics

A/N: This is my second story on the board. The other one, The Protectors is an A/I story that can be found on the CC board. There are some similarities between the two, but this one will ultimately deals with a lot of different issues. This was a piece of original fiction that I wrote with different characters but I thought it would make an good M/L story.

I am looking for someone to create a banner for this story if anyone is interested, thanks.

Title: Hold On to Me
Author: Little One
Rating: Mature/Adult (Deals with dark subject matter)
Pairing:M/L A/U No Aliens
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but the story is all mine.

Chapter 1

Max

"I don't like him." (I really don't, I heard he banged every girl on the varsity cheerleading squad last year but I can't tell her that, can I?)
"Well, then it's good you're not dating him, isn't it?" Oh Lord, she's mad.
"That's beside the point."

"No, it's not...listen, I don't need..."

"Save it. I know what you're gonna say- 'it's none of my business, yada yada yada' well, fuck that Liz, cuz it sure as hell is my business when you come running to me after the umpteenth guy breaks you heart.

"Fine, Max, I won't come running to you, how's that?" Oh God, this is not how I wanted this to go.

"OK Liz, fine, but don't tell me I didn't warn you when that guy decides to feel you up...and maybe more." I feel rage boiling just under my skin at the thought of someone trying to touch her, but it's happened more than once, believe me.

"I can take care of myself Max."

"I'm sure you can." I'm sitting at the desk in my room and she's perched on the window sill, one leg over the side of the house, in the process of making her escape.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow," she says, annoyance clear in her voice- making me think she'll go out of her way to avoid me tomorrow if she sees me at all. It doesn't really bother me, since I know she'll be back in 24 hours anyway to tell me about her date with whats-his-name. And then, in a flash of brunette hair, she's out the window. And I'm sitting here, alone in my room, feeling like the biggest ass because she's not my girlfriend, right? And who she dates really is none of my business. I shouldn't have said all that. But then my chest clenches apprehensively and I can't help but think that maybe I should have handcuffed her to the bed to keep her from going out with that jerk.

Liz

That jerk. Just who does he think he is? It's none of his business. I have my own life. I make my own choices. And suddenly Max decides he can waltz in and tell me who to date and who not to date? I don't think so. I cross the perfectly geometric patch of green lawn between his house and my house before vaulting myself over my own windowsill into my bedroom. Time to get ready to go on that date. I search my closet for the perfect mini skirt and low cut blouse, but every time I close my eyes, I see Max's face twisting in disgust as I tell him I'm going on said date. What does he know anyway? Sure Liz, he's a guy. Maybe he knows about this stuff. There's gotta be a reason the football team calls him Brett the jet. A tiny voice in my head is telling me. So what? That gives him no right to...to what, care about you? Give a damn? No, he's just being overprotective. That's it. He's only known me since...birth. He has always looked out for me like a big brother. I can't expect him to stop now. I fight the urge to run across the lawn and apologize for being such a bitch earlier. But there's this stupid thing called pride, and it just won't let me. Not yet, maybe later. Let him sweat it for a few hours.
I run a brush through my hair and apply the last touches of makeup. Good enough. Which is gonna have to be great, because the doorbell just rang. I walk cautiously down the wooden stairs in my ridiculously high-heeled shoes. Whoever decided that women's feet were pointed, or that the can walk on tiny stilts for any long period of time should be taken out back and shot. The doorbell rings again as I make my final approach. Impatient much, are we?

"Liz! Door!" Mom yells from the kitchen, and I have to laugh. The perfect hostess she is not, but you gotta love her anyway. Plastering my best come-hither smile on my face, I take a deep breath and open the door.

"Hey Brett." The smile definitely works. But it's not the smile that gets his attention. No, I can already see his date tonight will be primarily with my boobs. Jeez, take the hint Liz. Shut up, conscience.

"Liz," he states, skipping what would normally be considered a friendly greeting, and getting straight to business. Surprising me with at least one act of politeness for the night, he offers me his arm. I smile and accept.

"Back by twelve!" I shout as I shut the door behind us. "Let's go." We walk down the driveway to his brand new Honda sports car. He opens the door for me and I am momentarily impressed by the clean black leather interior. Black leather in a Honda? Ok, yeah. Right. No sooner am I seated in the passenger side and he in the driver's seat, than we are speeding down the treacherous curves of my neighborhood streets at about 90 mph. Oh God. He makes no attempt at conversation, and it is useless for me to try it myself, he's got some VERY loud music going that normally wouldn't bother me, but tonight I'm worried about Mrs. Vallon and whether or not she turned her hearing aid off. I pray to God she has.

Max

I shake myself out of some kind of trance and glance at my clock radio. Holy shit, I've been sitting at my desk chair for a little over half an hour, exactly where I was when Liz left. Liz. I wonder how her date with dickhead is going. Oh well, call it meditation. Then I hear what must have broken me out of my catatonic state.

"Maxwell!" Damn, it's my dad. He sounds drunk. He only calls me Maxwell when he's drunk.

"Yeah Dad!"

"I need to talk to you!"

"Sure Dad."

"I'm serious, get your ass in the kitchen...NOW!" Uh huh, right, like I would volunteer to be ass whipped. But I have to go, otherwise, he'll just break the door down...or something. Been there, done that.

"K, be there in a sec." I switch my desk lamp off and move back from the desk. I start to close the window, but think better of it. Liz might be back later. Only my mom knows that she crawls through my window sometimes when she feels like it. My dad would definitely flip if he knew. I feel guilty about what I said to her. Of course, knowing her, she probably feels guilty about what she said to me. Between the two of us, we'll never have a long lasting argument because we'll both end up feeling guilty and apologizing to each other. I guess that's a good thing. Time to stop stalling. I close the door to my bedroom, that can more accurately be called a suite, and prepare to face the music.

My dad's sitting at the kitchen table. Mom's not home from work yet. I think she stays there as much as possible to avoid him. Good for her, but that doesn't help me out any.

"What'd you want, Dad?" He looks up from the tabletop, apparently losing interest in the wood finish. It's obvious he's been drinking. His eyes are bloodshot and he slurs his words when he talks. He's waving something in his hand. When I look closer, I recognize the cheap computer print out. A mid-term progress report from my school. Damn.

"What's this?" He snarls at me. "A 'C' in Calculus?" I gulp, I didn't know I was doing that bad.

"Ummm...yeah, it's been a rough semester." You have to understand my father here. He's a perfectionist by definition. By virtue of the fact that I was created from his sperm, I am expected to carry on the family tradition. Consequently, I have consistently achieved Honor Roll status and made basically straight A's my entire life. It simply was not an option to do otherwise.

"Rough? Rough? I'll show you rough!" He lungs out of the chair, but in his drunken state, he is no match for me and I easily dodge him and leave him on the floor. I'm also bigger and taller than him, but you can't tell him that. And he certainly doesn't realize that it would be in his best interest to not attack me. I sigh in relief when he doesn't get off the floor. I know, there's something wrong with this picture, right? Mom should be home soon, let her take care of him. I've done my fair share of playing nurse to his hangovers. I have to get out of here. I glance at my watch, it's 10:30. I hope Liz's still on her date and doesn't come looking for me here. She doesn't need to see this.

Liz

I'm twenty-one years old and I've never been to a bar. You know those commercials "eighteen to party, twenty-one to drink"? Well, I think I need to do my fair share of drinking and partying, which is part of the reason I'm with Brett tonight. He said he was going to some hot singles bar in downtown DC. And here we are. Whooopie! I'm berating myself for not insisting that my own date keep me company in this underground hell hole. At least the music is good, but I know no one, lost sight of Brett half an hour ago. I'm pressed up against the wall, doing my best wallflower impression. Not my activity of choice, but it's kinda hard to do otherwise with a thousand people packed into the room like sardines. If I moved a centimeter, I'd be necking with Mr. Hoops-and-Studs to my left or Mr. Ran-Out-of-Tatoo-Space on my right. Necking...hmmm...not such a bad idea...

"Hey." I realize I've been staring at my shoes. Quickly recovering, I move my eyes upwards, blond hair, brown eyes, toned physique...not really my type, but definitely 'hot.' OK, this could turn out well after all.

"Hey." (Yeah, go me.)

"You Brett's friend?"

"If you wanna call me that...I guess."

"He sent me to find you." I smile demurely.

"Nice try."

"No, seriously! He did! I'm Alan Parks, quarterback?

"Oh, yeah, I have heard about you." He looks at me as if to say 'of course you've heard about me.'

"He's over at the bar, wanna join me?"

"I have no urgent desire to be anywhere near him."

"I didn't ask you if you wanted to be with him, I asked if you wanted to join me."

"Well, if you put it that way..." What the hell, I need to have some fun tonight.

He takes my hand. (I didn't offer it.) and leads me through the mosh pit. I decide that if you have to go through the sardine can, this is the way to do it- in the shadow of a guy with lots of muscle and huge shoulders. We make it to the bar and I attempt to get my hand back, but he grips tighter.

"Not yet." OK, this is where I start getting freaked out. I dig my heels into the ground as we pass the bar, but I really don't have a chance. He out weighs me by at least 100 pounds...in muscle. Before I know it, we're walking down a flight of rickety wooden stairs into a passageway with a low ceiling. My feet in these heels are killing me, making me slower on my feet than if I were going barefoot. I know I don't want to be here, but I have a sneaking suspicion that none of the drunks in the bar above us would lift a finger to help me if I ran. Hell, they might even hand me back over to these guys. Allan turns and pulls me sharply into a room with him, I come up hard against his back. The door slams...and locks. Shit. Not good.

"OK, where's Brett?" You will not freak out, you will not freak out.

"Right here." The voice is low and menacing, right by my ear. I glance at Allan, who's almost crushing my hand in his grip. His eyes are cold. I see Brett behind me, sandwiched between the two very built men, there's very little I can do. I could kick one of them in the balls, but then the other one would get me. Brett grabs my shoulders and spins me to face him. Almost instantaneously, my back is to Allan's chest and I really am pressed between them. I feel Allan grab my hips and I jerk away from him.

"NO!!!" But that only makes me buck into Brett's body. He grasps my shoulders again as Allan keeps my hips in place. Oh My God. This is not happening. I can't move. "Please..." I whisper frantically, beginning to realize exactly how vulnerable I am in this situation. "Please don't do this."

"But...we already are," Brett teases me, telling me with his eyes exactly what he plans to do.

"Oh, God."

"Now, here's how it's gonna work." He begins talking to me as if I'm five years old. "You're gonna stand absolutely still while Allan helps me do what we need to do. And if you so much as move a vocal chord without me telling you...well...I wouldn't try it. Get it?" By this time, tears are running freely down my cheeks. But I will not cry out, no, I won't let them see me cry. But I nod slowly, what else am I supposed to do? "Good. Awww...don't cry Liz." He traces a finger down one tear track and I shudder involuntarily and flinch away. His hand slams across my face, leaving what I know will be a mark. I can't help it, I sob involuntarily but immediately fix my gaze on him, a gaze of hatred and defiance. He meets it, smirking. I want to kill him. "And that's a freebie. Now, arms up." It takes a beat before I can will my body to betray itself, and slowly, I raise my arms and feel hands- I'm not sure whose- pulling it away from my body. I'd be cussing him out right now if I didn't think he'd hit me again, and I'm pretty sure he'll do it again anyway.

"Good girl," Allan whispers behind me, and I fight the urge to avoid his fingers as he removes my bra, letting it fall to the floor as he reaches around to cup my breasts. Oh NO, God NO! I want to scream, I want to kick, I want to fight. But I am frozen stiff with fear and pulled tightly against Allan. Brett wastes no time. He rips my skirt off. It falls in two pieces on the floor. I glance down and see that I am still wearing those ridiculous shoes.

"Look at me bitch!" Brett yells, and my head jerks up. I flinch internally, knowing I broke the rules...again. Suddenly, Allan grabs both my arms, twisting them behind my back and wrenching them painfully. I gasp, and nearly bite a hole through my tongue to keep quiet, knowing that that in itself was punishment for my last indiscretion. I feel my wrists being tied behind me, with what, I have no clue. The pain shoots through me. I'm certain he dislocated my shoulder, but I have gotten used to pain with no noise and I bite through my wail. Brett is still holding my hips, running his disgusting, callused fingers up and down my ribcage, each time coming a little closer to my underwear. "OK, last thing you have to do for me sweet cheeks- spread 'em." Oh Holy Mother of God, this is really happening...help me. I feel nauseated. I'm not going to puke in front of these bastards. My head is filled with so many things that I really can't think straight. I know somehow that I might die- right here on this sawdust floor in some unknown bar in downtown thugsville DC. I also know that if I don't do what he says right now, I will die. Without any conscious thought, my legs slide apart. And by some miracle (or not) I keep my balance. When I open my eyes, Brett has left my eyesight, but I can still feel Allan's hands moving towards my hips. He grips me...hard and pushes my pelvis forward. Then Brett is back. And in his hand he's holding...scissors. I whimper but neither boy seems to notice. The next thing I feel is cold steel against my crotch and I shudder as the fabric falls away, and with it, my last shred of decency. "You're beautiful baby," Brett whispers menacingly. I want to disappear, I want to pass out, I want to sit down. I want anything but what I know is about to happen. All that's holding me up now is Allan's painful grip on my hips, forced to an angle that would make it easy for Brett to do whatever he damn well pleases. He trails one hand down my stomach towards the curls between my legs. Without warning, he pulls hard on a few strands and I yelp and jerk within Allan's grasp. He doesn't seem to notice, as his other hand is busy unzipping his fly. Please God, help me. I feel his fingers start to go lower and I tense. I feel so dirty. Tears are riveting down my face, I had no idea a person could cry this much. And then three of his fingers are inside me and it HURTS! It burns. I scream, I twist, I kick, but most embarrassingly, I buck. Brett grins.

"Eager, are we?"

"Fuck you." I spit, right before my sharp heel lands in Alan's crotch. (I knew they were good for something.) He lets go and I hear him fall to the floor as he cusses me out in a long string of words I can't even begin to decipher. But before I can do anything, Brett tackles me, and we fall. He's stronger than me and easily pins me. He grins devilishly down at me. I can see his fly is open and he is hard. I panic. "NO, no, no,no, PLEASE, no!." I start to twist, and I try to kick, but his weight on my lower body keeps me from doing anything useful.

"Shut up and stop struggling, you'll wear yourself out."

"Fuck you!"

"Oh, I will." He keeps looking at me, not moving until my exertions have worn me out, and I stop struggling, I can't do anything else.

"Please."

"Shut up, I want to enjoy this." He positions himself. I tense. Please Lord. But right then, the Lord doesn't seem to be listening. He thrusts forward. It is the worst pain I have felt in my entire life. The burning consumes my body and I know I'm screaming bloody murder, but he keeps pounding. He keeps pounding. I feel like I've left my body. I pray for unconsciousness, and suddenly I see his face in my head. Max. Looking at me with a concerned disapproving look, the same one he used earlier. Oh God, so much pain. Help. Then everything goes black.

TBC

A/N: I have about 60 pages of this story written in word, so the chapters will come fairly quickly...at first. Feedback much appreciated.

Chapter 2

1:35 am- Max

The phone is ringing. Mom's not home yet. I only got home an hour ago to find out that Dad made it to bed somehow. Damn, if I don't get the phone, it'll wake him, and then I'm in deep trouble.
The caller ID says...Liz? Why would she be calling now? That old apprehensive feeling returns to the pit of my stomach, and I almost don't want to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Max? Is that you?" Shit, it's her mom, at 1:35 am. Not good.

"Hi Suzanne, what's wrong?" I know something's wrong.

"Is Liz with you?" OH shit.

"No, she's not. I saw her last night about 6:00 or so. Is everything OK?" Stupid question Max.

"No, it's not. She was supposed to be home at midnight, she never came home." I can hear the rising edge of panic in her voice. The voice of a mother who doesn't know where the hell her daughter is at almost 2 am. Oh God, I have to find Liz. The words just come out.

"It's OK, I'll find her."

"Do you have any idea where she is Max?" She's close to tears now. To tell the truth, I'm getting there myself.

"No, I don't." I can't lie to this woman, she's like my second mother. Her breath hitches, I can hear it over the phone. "Don't worry, I'm leaving right now, I'll find her. You keep calling people. Check friends' houses." Give her something to do. Something tells me that I've got to find Liz, and I have to do it by myself.

"Are you sure you don't need me?"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry, I'll find her." No need to tell her where I think I'll find her. "I've got my cell phone if you hear anything."

"OK Max, please be careful."

"I will, don't worry, it's gonna be ok." I hope she doesn't notice my voice is shaking.

"OK." I can tell she doesn't want to hang up the phone.

" I'm gonna hang up now. I'm walking out the door."

"Please Max, find her."

"I will." Breathe Max, put the receiver back on the hook. OK. Find Liz. I have to find Liz. My head is spinning as I grab my car keys and sprint out the door, pulling out of my driveway and taking the street corners at well over 100 mph. My tires squeal, and I know I've just woken the entire neighborhood. Calm down, no use to Liz if you're dead. That thought makes me slow so I'm only going 30 over the speed limit. I wrack my brain. Where the hell did she say her date was tonight? Cameo's The answer flies through my head.

"He's taking me to Cameo's, I gotta have some sort of social life, y'know."

Feeling a momentary sense of relief that I now have a concrete destination, I press the gas pedal harder and thank God there's no traffic at this time of night, especially for the suburbs of DC, the highways are unusually quiet. I'm coming Liz. God, if only I had handcuffed her to the bed.

Liz 1:46 am-

Pain...everywhere. Damn fluorescent lights. Ouch. Oh God, just let me pass out again. I think I'm alone, but I can't be sure. It hurts too much to move. The floor is too cold. Oh God. Everything is painful, but I'm numb. I can't even be sure I'm breathing. I can hear the vibrations and the pounding of dancing and music upstairs. No one knows about me, no one's going to find me. I'm going to die. Something red trickles into my eyes. Oh, no, oh God. Max. Max was right. I want Max. Max, Max...Max.

Max 1:55 am-

Cameo's. On the corner of 55th and E Street. Good, keep driving. It's only 2:00 am, bars like that are open till at least 4. I pull onto 55th and breathe another momentary sigh of relief. I can hear the music and see the flashing lights of the club from here. I don't want to remind myself that I don't know for sure that she's here. I'm operating on pure instinct and adrenaline. I know she's here, she has to be. There is no alternative. I'm still driving like a bat out of Hell and the car goes up on two tires as I make the turn into the club's massive parking lot. I think I'm double parked...who gives a shit. A drive that would normally have taken about 45 minutes, took 20. I jump out of the car, not bothering to lock it as I fish my driver's license from my wallet. I don't know how I'm going to find her once I get in there, but I will. Liz...please God, let her be here. I run full blast to the entrance of the club, trying not to look flustered as I hand my ID to the scary looking man at the door.

"Have fun kid," he smiles freakishly at me before letting me pass. He can go to hell. I step inside the bar and do a once over. It isn't as packed as it would have been at midnight, but there's still too many people. OK, I'm here, I'm here Liz. I'm sweating bullets and breathing like I ran a marathon, but I'm here. I start walking around the perimeter of the room, trying not to look like a crazed maniac as I search the mob for her head. Petite, brunette, brown eyes...no sign of her. I'm not going to panic. I'm not. There's another scary looking man standing at what looks like a rickety staircase going down...staircase! My pulse is thudding in my ears. I can take him. I put on my best stonewall face and march up to the guy, making to go down the stairs. My male instinct tells me that if I wanted 'alone time' with a girl, I'd probably take her here. Oh shit. I KNOW where she is.

"Where you going, punk?" I glare in his direction and ignore the comment. "WHERE YOU GOING, PUNK??" He steps in my face. I'm not a shrimp. 6 feet, wide shoulders, muscular build. But this guy looks like a WWF wrestler, about 300 lbs, tatoos, piercings, shaved head. Under normal circumstances, I'd walk away. Not this time.

"GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY YOU FUCKING PRICK!" My voice is so loud, that it carries over the music that's already blasting from the speakers, causing about 50 people to turn in our direction. A few are actually smiling in encouragement towards me over their vodkas and beers. To my complete and utter surprise, the behemoth holds up his hands in mock surrender and steps aside to let me pass him. I suppress the urge to drop my jaw in amazement. I clench it instead and shoot him a satisfied glare before charging down the stairs. The ceiling is so low, I almost bump my head against it. There's an illuminated EXIT sign at the end of the hall. Other than that, it's pitch black. I start feeling along the wall for doors and doorknobs. I press my ear against the first one. It's locked. That could be good or bad. But I have to keep going. My heart is pounding. My mind is racing, trying not to picture scenarios in my head of what I might find on the other side of these doors. Two doors, three...I'm pressed against the wall, stepping sideways. I pray there's no one at the end of this damn tunnel.

There's light coming from underneath the fourth door. Please let her be here, please. I want to call out to her to see if I get a response, but she could still be in danger if there are people with her. I don't want to alert them to my presence. So I take the knob in my hand and twist. I get the second shock of my life when it actually turns. With my full weight against the door, the door opens and I almost fall into the room. The floor is cement, covered with dust. A single fluorescent bulb in the middle of the ceiling is the only source of light in the room. And laying in a sprawled, twisted heap in the middle of the floor is the beaten...naked... lifeless body of my best friend.

"LIZ!" In two steps, I'm kneeling down over her and I feel like I'm going to throw up. There's blood everywhere. Her face is covered in it. "Oh, God. Liz." One arm is twisted at an odd angle, the other is covered in bruises. There are reddish purple marks on her wrists as if she had been tied up. I fight the compulsion to look away. She's completely naked, her shirt, undergarments, and skirt ripped and strewn all over the room. I can't help it, I have to look, I have to know what happened. I have to get her out of here. I force the bile down in my throat. "Liz, Liz, come on Liz please." Without having to think twice, I've cupped her swollen jaw in one hand and I'm feeling for a pulse on her neck with the other. Her head rolls toward me. I gasp involuntarily and choke. There are several bruises and a streaky red handprint across her face. Her left eye is black and blue. Oh God. Involuntarily I peruse the rest of her body. I hope she won't kill me later, but I need to know. I have to know. Her breasts are thankfully rising in somewhat even breaths, but they're covered in finger shaped black and blue marks and red angry welts and scratches. Her stomach has one huge bruise on the right side. Both of her hips are covered in blatantly obvious hand shaped bruises.

Underneath my panic is a burning anger, simmering right under my skin. Compulsively, I glance lower, finally seeing the pool of blood between her thighs. I want to kill someone. I want to kill the bastard who did this to her. Like some sort of sick movie playback, I can slowly piece together what's happened, simply by looking at her. She's still completely unconscious. I'm desperately moving my fingertips along her neck.

"Come on Liz, Liz look at me. You have to wake up Liz." An incredible relief floods me when I feel the faint but steady beating of her heart under my fingers. But her eyes are still not open. "Come on Liz!" I realize that we can't stay here much longer. Whether she's awake or not, I have to get her out of here. She's lost too much blood already. I'm supporting the back of her head and neck in my lap with one hand and brushing hair and sticky blood off of her face with the other. I can feel a huge bump beginning to form at the back of her skull.

OK, she's not gonna wake up, I have to move. Just as I'm deciding how to carefully pick her up so that she won't be more injured than she already is, I hear her begin to moan. Her hands clutch at the air and her eyes begin to flutter. Thank you God. "Liz! Liz, it's me, it's Max. Liz!”

Liz

Oh God, it hurts...everything hurts...am I dead yet? The brightness hurts my eyes, and through blurry vision I can make out the naked bulb. The floor is still hard and cold. Oh God, I'm still here. I must have blacked out momentarily, because the next thing I hear is a voice. "It's Max, Liz!" Max...Max...Max, it can't be him, he doesn't know I'm here, no one does. God, this is a cruel way to make someone die. Why couldn't I have just passed out and left it at that? ”Liz, come on Liz." I want to believe it. I try to open my eyes again, it's a little easier this time but no less painful. There is a shadow blocking the light.. It doesn't look like anything.
Then I realize there's a warm hand on the back of my neck, supporting my head against something warm and firm, and the other hand keeps sweeping across my face. "Come on Liz, please open your eyes." It's him. I'd know that voice anywhere.

"Ma..." I try to speak, but my tongue feels thick and heavy and my whole mouth hurts. My body's slowly coming out of whatever unconscious state I was in, and I almost wish it wasn't. . "Max…it hurts.” I can feel myself crying, my eyes swelling up even more than they already are.

"Shhh...don't talk, I’ve got you." His arms come around me, and I feel myself being lifted slowly from the ground. It's him, it's Max. He found me. Oh my God. I cry harder, but end up gasping instead, it hurts to cry, it hurts to breathe. I can’t hold in the breathy, moaning, painful sobs. "Shhh, Liz. Hold on to me." I do as he asks, trying to block the pain from every nerve ending in my body as he begins to move. I’m shaking, gasping, crying. I grasp the front of his t shirt. I bury my nose in the familiar scent.

Max
One hand under her shoulders, one under her knees, lift. God, it's easy, too easy. She's so cold. I have to keep my eyes on her face. I have to keep her conscious. I have to get out of here. Looking at her is physically painful. The angry red handprint glares back at me. 'It's your fault, it's your fault it's your fault.' My conscience screams. I cannot. do this to myself right now. Liz. "Liz, come on, stay with me." "You have to stay awake." She moans painfully and I flinch. How the hell am I going to get her out of here? It's not like I can carry an unconscious naked girl through a crowded bar and expect no one to ask questions. Like an epiphany, the glowing red EXIT sign at the end of the dark hallway flashes in my mind. There is a god. I turn left out of the room and into the hallway. And I'm running, half afraid to run too fast because it might hurt her. Then logic kicks in. I can't hurt her more than she's already hurt. All I can think about is getting her the hell out of here. I hope to God there is not so much as a stray pebble on the crappy cement floor, because I can't see a damn thing, and I can't afford to fall. I keep my eyes glued to the exit, my arms locked as tightly as possible around her. I think I hear whimpering...my chest clenches. But I have to get her out. The exit sign gets closer...closer...closer...closer... I shove the heavy door open with one shoulder, careful not to knock her against the frame in the process. That's interesting, our escape doesn't trigger an alarm, but then again, what would they do? I doubt the owner of the bar would be thrilled to learn about this happening in his basement. Then again, maybe I could justifiably knock the bastard in to next week.

We're out, the door closing with a final thud/clank behind us. God, it's so hot and humid out here, I can't breathe... OK, now what? My body doesn't stop running. Somehow, I know where I am in relation to the parking lot. Call it an inherent sense of direction. I shift Liz slightly in my arms and continue running like a bat out of hell. Down the alley behind the club, turn left, run along the sidewalk...pray that no one stops us and that no thugs get any bright ideas. Sharp right into the parking lot. A few drunks are just now staggering out to their cars. Fucking idiots. They're gonna kill someone, maybe themselves. Maybe they already have. No, I can't think like that. With my third sigh of quasi- relief, I spot my car in the parking lot and sprint towards it. Thanking every deity known to man that I didn't lock it.

I lay her as gently as possible on the upholstered seat. The interior yellow lighting throws a sickly pallor over her skin...all of it. The bruises are worse, the blood has thankfully dried, but I'm covered in it. She's so cold, despite the fact that it's probably eighty degrees out here and it's three in the morning, she's shivering. I can't stop myself.

"Oh, shit." Stop it Max, you're gonna scare her. As if on cue...

Liz
It hurts... I can't get my mouth to work. What's wrong with me? Max...Max's here, This can’t be real. I know he's gonna take care of me, if I’m not hallucinating. He'll get me out. GOD THIS HURTS!! Please just shoot me. Max...please. He's carrying me, we're running. Every pound of his feet on the asphalt feels like a jackhammer to my skull. But thank God, he's getting me out. I curl up as tightly as possible against him. He's still running. I'm freezing...and naked. We stop. He's moving me, my head falls onto something smooth, but a shooting pain runs up my skull. I can't scream, my vocal chords don't work. But maybe...

"Max?"

Max
"Max?" My name is not even a syllable, it sounds more like a pained gasp, and if I hadn’t been listening for it, I would have missed it. I force down the lump of dread in my throat.

"Yeah Liz, it’s me…shhhh, it's ok, we're gonna go to the hospital. I've got you. You're gonna be fine." I have no idea if what I'm saying is even remotely true, but it had damn well better be. Despite her delirious state, her eyes widen. I know what she heard me say. Hospital. She hates them. She looks so scared.

"Max?!"

"Hey,...shhhh...it's gonna be ok." I'm wracking my brain trying to think of something that will warm her up. Calm her down. I know she's in shock. Maybe there's a blanket in the trunk. She looks so scared, I don't want to leave her lying in the car alone for even a second. I run to the driver's side, pop the trunk, run to the back of the car, throw open the trunk. There has to be a blanket, there has to be. I see the corner of my huge navy fleece under camping supplies. Three seconds later, I drape the blanket over her naked, trembling body. Oh, God. She's staring at the ceiling, not blinking. Hospital, I have to get her to the hospital. "Hang on Liz, it's gonna be ok." No response. I tuck the blanket more securely around her and jump into the driver's side. Auto pilot kicks in as I press my foot all the way down on the gas pedal. She has to be ok.

Liz

Warm, soft...something, covers me...still so cold. Oh, god it hurts. Max...Max's here...Max. Max.

Max

Where the hell am I going? I don't have a fucking clue...hospital, hospital, hospital. This is the damn nation's capital and I've lived near it my entire life, and I still don't have a fucking clue. I'm not a very religious person. I rarely go to church and my family celebrates Christmas and Easter, that's it. But suddenly, I'm praying- like I've never prayed before. Someone up there helped me find Liz, maybe they'll help me find help for her. I have no idea where the hell I am. Some aimless street in the not-so-tourist-friendly district of Washington. Shit.

Washington Hospital Center. Wow. I'm on a roll tonight with my divine revelations. Maybe God is listening. A big white H on a blue background passes me on the right. I think I'm going about 120 mph towards the emergency entrance. The next thing I know, three orderlies are leaping out to different sides of my hood as I nearly run them down. But they don't look mad at me. I guess they're used to this kind of thing. I don't bother to turn the car off. I run to the backseat and lift Liz out, wrapping the blanket tightly around her. She's stopped trembling for the time being, thank God. She's coherent, but openly sobbing and crying.

Liz
Where are we? Oh, no, the hospital, no.

"Max, don't leave me here, you can't leave me here, no Max no, please. Don't leave me here." His face is blurry through my tears, but his mouth is moving. I can't hear what he's saying. I don't care. Just don't leave me here. I tighten my grip on his shirt. No! Don't leave me here! Take it easy, you're gonna be ok. Yeah, right.

Max
"Shhhh, Liz, you have to calm down. Calm down, it’s ok. Liz, I won’t let anything happen to you. Take it easy, you're gonna be ok." She's clinging to me in a death grip and sobbing as a twenty-something orderly rolls a gurney over and I try to lay her on it. She won't let go. What the hell do I do now? "Liz, I’m right here, they're gonna take care of you, I’m not leaving, I'll be right here." She shakes her head violently and tightens her grip. The orderly looks genuinely concerned. I wonder for a split second if that’s a practiced reaction, but decide that it’s not. He’s only a year or so older than me, not enough time to practice.

"What happened?" I'm trying to gauge his reaction. He's seen this stuff before. He looks appalled. I almost choke, and for the first time, I have to tell someone else about this...oh God.

"I don't know...she was attacked...or...I think...I think she was raped." She's still clinging to me. Luckily it's just us and two other orderlies who stand around us, ready to help if necessary, but they don't interfere. Which is good. If there were too many people, she might be hysterical. He pushes the empty stretcher to one of the other orderlies.

"Forget it, follow me." I follow him through the sliding doors into the cool lobby. Thankfully, there are very few people here. A nurse comes up to us, looking confused, but then she sees Liz, the looks on our faces. And she gets it. She looks at me sympathetically. "Brad, I'll get her info, you wanna take the young lady back to an exam room?" He nods and looks at me.

"Want to try this again?" At this point, I'm willing to try anything. Deep breath. I look down at Liz, she’s staring off into space, and breathing heavily, trembling, still grasping my shirt for dear life.

"Liz, this is Brad, he's gonna take you back to an exam room and I'm gonna give the nurse some info, and I'll be right behind you." Clinging to me in terror, she looks up at me with huge, pained doe eyes.

"Promise?"

"Absolutely." The orderly approaches Liz and makes eye contact.
-
"Hi, Liz," he smiles the ‘comfort’ smile, but it works. "I'm gonna take you to an exam room, and I promise, in less than five minutes, he'll be back."

"OK." This time, she lets me lay her on the stretcher. I almost feel guilty, seeing the way she looks so damn scared.. So much pain, I can see it in her face. Scared to death, definitely. She lies stiffly on the stretcher, not taking her eyes off of me, trying to twist to keep me in sight as he begins to push her away. Squeezing her hand, I repeat,
"Five minutes, I promise."

Liz

My whole body aches. My face is on fire. I don’t want him to leave me. I look up and am surprised to see Brad the orderly looking back at me comfortingly.

"Liz, you with me?" I nod slowly, even more surprised that he seems to care. "Just relax, he’ll be right behind us." He pulls back a curtained partition and pushes the stretcher parallel to the bed. "I'm gonna put you on the bed now, 'k?" Sure, what else am I gonna do? Gotta give the guy some credit though, he's obviously trying to make me feel better, and the funny thing is, it seems to be working. He slides his arms underneath me with practiced ease, then moves me to the bed, letting me down gently. The goose egg on my head brushes against the pillow.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, your head?"

"Yeah, that's ok."

"A nurse'll be in here soon, I'll bring your friend back."

"NO!" He looks at me, confused.

"I mean, he'll find me right? I don't want to be alone."

"Yeah, Sara will bring him back eventually."

"Sara?"

"The nurse at reception."

"Oh. OK."

"You want me to stay?"

"Just until he gets back...please?"

"Sure." I know, I know- Liz, what are you thinking? But I really don't want to be left alone in this room right now. He sits in a chair near my head and watches me critically. I want to ask him something, but I'm so scared right now, I don't know if conversation would be possible. But the question is burning the tip of my tongue. Just spit it out Liz. Gulp.

"What're they gonna do to me?" He looks shocked, maybe because people don't ask him questions a whole lot, maybe because of the way I asked it.

"They're not gonna do anything to you. They're gonna help you, you know that, right?" I look down, almost ashamed at how accusatory that sounded.

"Yeah but, you know what I mean." He seems to know what the root of my problem is because the next thing he says is,

" I know this is easy for me to say because I'm not the one laying on the bed. But look at it this way. Whatever 'scary' things happen to you here are gonna be a lot less scary than what you've already been through." Eyes downcast, I nod, contemplating his words and ultimately deciding that he's right. The lump of dread in my gut noticeably shrinks to bowling ball size instead of boulder size.

"Thanks," I'm trying to smile at him. He shows me he appreciates the effort by smiling back.

"You're welcome." Leaning back on the pillows, carefully avoiding the sensitive knot on my head, I try to breathe. At that particular moment, Max appears, looking like he just ran a ten mile marathon without stopping. His eyes move between the two of us and understanding dawns.

"Thanks for keeping her company."

"No problem." Brad gets up to leave. "Doctor should be here soon."

"OK, thanks." He's almost out the door before I stop him.

"Hey Brad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome Liz." He disappears on the other side of the curtain. Max takes the empty seat beside the bed. We sit there in silence. He leans over and takes my hand, squeezing firmly. When did he learn to do this? I'm starting to shake again and I don't even know why. Max notices.

"You’re ok. I’m right here, I’m not leaving you." I gulp. I know what I want to say, what's been on the tip of my tongue since before I got trapped in that damned room. I can't look at him. I stare at the navy fleece I’m still wrapped in. I want to choke as I finally say the words.

Max

"You were right." I almost don't hear it, she's talking to her hands, and then what she said actually registers in my foggy brain. I look at her as if she just told me the sky was green.

"Huh?"

"About Brett...you were so right." After all this time, it's only now that she starts to lose it. Suddenly she's shaking violently and the tears are falling unchecked from her black eyes, down her swollen cheeks.. Please, please don't cry, I can’t stand to see you cry.

"God Liz," I can't stand this. I can't help myself as I move to sit next to her on the bed and wrap my arms around her. She falls into my chest, sobbing, shaking, and soaking my shirt. I only want her to be ok.

"I'm such an idiot, I should have seen it," (sob) "you saw it...(sob)...why didn't I listen to you? I never...(sob)...listen!"

"Shhh, don't do that. You didn’t do anything wrong.. It's ok. It's not your fault. Shhhhhh." God, I feel so useless. "I'm gonna go call your mom, she's worried about you."

"No, Max, p-p-please d-don't!" She sounds like I just told her I was going to jump off a cliff. I tighten my grip.

"OK, ok, it's ok, I won't," I didn't mean to freak her out. We sit there in silence, my arms still wrapped around her shaking body. Well... relative silence. She's still sobbing, albeit a little less hysterically, into my chest. They haven't given her a gown yet, so I'm trying to keep the fleece blanket from exposing too much, but she doesn't seem to notice or care. I guess I've seen all there is to see, but it's still awkward. Where the hell is the damn doctor? She's clinging to me again, and I'm about to go out of my mind. I'm this close to running back to the nurse's station and demanding medical attention, when a guy wearing blue scrubs over a navy blue long sleeve t shirt, with a stethoscope around his neck makes an appearance. He's obviously in his mid or late twenties, short brown hair, trying to be long, spiked upwards like a really weak impression of a porcupine.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Aarons."

Doctor? This guy's a doctor? What...did he graduate from med school last week? I'm about to tell him as much when Liz's hand on my arm stops me. Somehow, she knows what I'm thinking. And she stops me from going overboard. As freaked out as she obviously is about her situation in general, she makes a good show of hospitality.

"Hi." She smiles at him. I cringe, it's a shaky but genuine smile.

"You're Liz Davis?"

"Yeah."

"Hi Liz," he then looks at me inquiringly.

"Max," I put out my hand.

"J.D. Aarons" He shakes it with another one of those genuine smiles, but again, he pulls it off quite convincingly. His handshake is surprisingly firm. Against my will, I find myself warming up to the guy. I had tried to stand up when he came in, but Liz's white knuckled grip on my hand prevented me from going anywhere. She's still squeezing my hand to the point where I think amputation will be necessary. I half expect Dr. Aarons to politely ask me to leave the room. He doesn't. He takes one look at Liz, still slightly trembling, and glances at our joined hands, hers white, mine purple, and his face softens in understanding. Wow, I'm shocked. She doesn't notice his discreet appraisal of the situation. I do. And God, am I thanking him right now. He smiles in her direction, the same smile I use when I'm trying to get her to calm down, and I immediately like this guy. We're on the same page. We're both trying to help Liz. And suddenly, I don't mind being on a first name basis with him.
In his next shocking move, he sits on the edge of the bed near her feet, not touching her, but close enough. I expect her to move away a little, but she doesn't. Instead, she's slightly relaxing, not letting go, but easing the grip on my poor hand. He makes eye contact.

"I'm gonna do everything I can to help you Liz, OK?" She nods. "OK, first off, I know this is hard to talk about, but I need to know what happened." Her hand resumes its death grip, but she nods. I know she was expecting this. Hell, I was expecting this, but that’s not gonna make it easier. He smiles reassuringly "OK, second, we're gonna do a physical exam. First thing I’m gonna do is pop your shoulder back into place. I'll give you some pain killers too, after the exam." She nods again. He keeps his eyes on hers as he continues. "We have to do this thing called a rape kit, if you want to press charges. Uh oh. She automatically tenses when he says the word 'rape.' Nothing I wasn't expecting. I return her death grip on my hand, trying to send her support. "I know this is hard." He pauses long enough for her to calm down. "Are your parents around? Do you want to speak to them first?" I look at her encouragingly. I want to call Nancy, I told her I would, and I'm going to be on her shit list for sure, because I know for a fact that she's still sitting at home wondering what's happened to her baby girl.

"Liz, please let me call your mom and tell her you're ok, please? She called me this morning in hysterics, looking for you. And it's been three hours. Please Liz." I want to, I really do, she needs her mom. But I won't do it unless she tells me to. She looks from Aarons, back to me, but her eyes are the same passionate refusal.

"No! I don't, I mean, oh God, I don't know what I mean. I just don't want to see her right now. She'll be hysterical, crying and wailing, and if she starts, then I start and... I just can't take someone else doing it you know? She'll blame me, I know she will. She didn't like Brett either. I have enough to do on my own. My mom is not the most emotionally stable person..." She's started crying a little again, and I actually see her point. I feel really guilty about not calling Mrs. Davis though. Dr. Aarons has been understandably silent throughout her monologue. I look over Liz's head at him, as she buries her head in my shoulder, willing him to be on my side for this one. He acknowledges me and looks back at Liz. In the third surprise move of the night, he takes her free hand firmly in his. She looks mildly surprised, but doesn't pull away.

"However you want to do this is fine with me," he assures her. “But your mom must be worried about you.” My words exactly. OK, at first I was warming up to this guy, now he could be my new best friend. "Listen Liz, how 'bout you have Max call your mom, but tell her that you're OK, and that she doesn't have to come to the hospital right now?" This man is a genius. Thank you Dr. Aarons. I smile gratefully at him. She turns her head, looking at him unbelievingly, but I can tell she's warming up to the idea.

"OK," she acquiesces. "OK, but please Max, don't let her come here- tell her whatever you have to. I just can't see her right now." She’s panicking again. Not good, gotta stop that.

"Hey, you're talking to the master, remember? I know your mother better than she knows herself." That earns me a smile. A small one, given the physical condition of her face, but a smile nonetheless. "I'm going down the hall to the payphone, and I'll be right back," I promise, as I get out of the chair, still holding her hand. She shoots me an apprehensive look. "Relax, ok? Trust him. He's a good guy." Dr. Aarons and I exchange a look that she doesn't see.
"OK...just...can you be back for the ummmm..."

"Exam?"

"Yeah...I don't want to be by myself." I look over at Aarons again. He nods.

"I'll be back way before then sweetie, you won't know I'm gone." I squeeze her hand one more time and high tail it to the payphones in the lobby. And suddenly, I'm dreading this phone call more than I would dread having my wisdom teeth pulled with no anesthesia.

TBC

Thanks for the feedback, I'm glad people are enjoying this story!

Chapter 3

Liz

I'm being such a baby. I know. Twenty-one, and I can't be in a damn hospital room alone with a doctor for a physical exam. How pathetic is that? Dr. Aarons is ok though, I liked him as soon as he walked in the room. I can tell he actually cares. I could tell Max wasn't too fond of him at first, but the guy has charm even other guys can't resist, I guess. 'Cause I know he wouldn't have left me for a second if he didn't trust the guy with my life. Yeah, I know, stupid, isn't it? Even doctors have to pass Max's character test to be worthy to be in the same room with me. I'm flattered, really. I guess he can't help being overprotective of me, especially given recent developments. And to tell the truth, it's comforting. And God knows I need as much of that as I can get. It took a lot of control on my part to not protest when Max left to call my mom. I know he'll tell her whatever he needs to tell her to keep her away for a while. You probably think I'm crazy. I should be crying for my mommy right now, and not anyone else, right? Wrong. You don't know my mother. I love her to death, but she doesn't handle crisis too well. I guess it's genetic. I know she's freaking out right now, and I do feel guilty about leaving her in the dark for so long. I know Max does, he's conscientious like that. So it was more to ease his nerves than mine. I know she wouldn't talk to him for a year if she found out he waited three hours to call her. Longer, if she found out that I was the reason he didn't. I can't wish that on my worst enemy's dog. It's been one minute and thirteen seconds since he left, and I'm already getting edgy. Geez, I'm a wuss.

Dr. Aarons is still sitting on the edge of the bed. For some reason, it doesn’t bother me. He makes me actually believe I'm gonna be ok. He's holding a clipboard and writing something deep and complicated...I think. He glances up, and smiles that smile that says 'no worries.' They don't teach that in med school. It really is an acquired talent. I have to smile back. He actually makes me feel better. Wow. He gets up, going to the other side of the room, he opens a drawer and pulls out a gown- ugly blue pattern, no back...but it's something to wear.

"I know this doesn't qualify as decent, but you won't have to hold it on." He makes a good point, and I notice my hand still holding the blanket to my chest.
"Don't move, ok? I'll have Sara come in and help you get dressed." He puts the gown on the bed and looks at me again. For being so young, he sure can read faces when he sees them. "I’ll let you know everything I’m doing, and if I’m hurting you, I’ll stop. No surprises, ok? I'll get you some pain killers as soon as we're done with the exam." I attempt to smile at him. He walks out. I'm alone. Breathe. Liz, breathe. I'm trying to coach myself, but nothing is working. God I'm pathetic.

Max

I thought rescuing Liz from that damn bar was the hardest thing I would ever have to do. I was wrong. Calling her mother to say that I had rescued her from said bar beats it by a mile. I have to do this. I pick up the phone with a shaking hand and barely manage to deposit fifty cents in the damn slot. Dial. Number. Wait for connection. Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?!" She's already lost it, I can tell. Shit, this isn't going to be easy. Ok, I didn’t think it was going to be. But still…

"Mrs. Davis?"

"MAX! Oh, God, did you find her?!"

"I found her."

"OH THANK GOD! Is she ok? Where are you? Just tell me, I'll be there in five minutes." I have to breathe, she has to breathe.

"She's OK...we're at the hospital." God, that was abrupt. When God was passing out tact, he skipped me. Then again, how else was I supposed to say it?

"HOSPITAL?! Wh..."

"Slow down, it's OK, she's fine

"Then why are you at the HOSPITAL?" OK, she has a point.

"Sit down, Mrs. Davis." Pause.

"OK, ok, I'm ok. I'm sitting."

"I think she was attacked at the bar she and Brett went to." Here it comes…

"ATTACKED? OH GOD, MAX, OH GOD."

"SHE'S OK MRS. DAVIS." I have to shout above her, to be heard over her rambling. I shoot apologetic glances to the startled people in the waiting area. I feel really sorry for this woman, I wish I could tell her to get her ass down here as fast as possible, that's what I think she should do, but Liz wouldn't speak to me ever again. That’s not something I could deal with. I can hear her sobbing on the other end of the line. I wish there was something I could do. "Please calm down, Mrs. Davis. She's OK." I'm begging. Yes, reduced to begging. Several seconds later...

"OK, I'm ok, I'm ok. All right Max...ok..." Then out of nowhere. "Was she...sexually assaulted?" I want to throw up all over this damn white tile floor. I gag, I choke, the image of the blood I saw back at the bar spinning around in my head...but I answer and choke at the same time.

"Yeah, I think so." I did not want to be the one to tell her that. Here it comes.

"OH GOD, OH MY POOR BABY, STAY THERE MAX, I'M COMING OVER." Oh shit.

"WAIT MRS. DAVIS!" I didn't mean to shout at her, but I couldn't think of anything else to do. She sure as hell wasn’t gonna listen to me any other way.

"What Max." Her voice is surprisingly soft for someone who was screaming bloody murder two seconds ago.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but she really wants to have as few people as possible here right now. She told me to tell you not to worry, but she'd really rather you stayed at home.” Please don’t kill me…please don’t kill me…please don’t kill me. It’s a good thing murder can’t be committed over the phone.

"And I'm just supposed to sit here and wait for you and think of all the horrible things that happened to her?"

"No, I don't mean that, please just trust me. She needs to trust someone right now and I gave her my word that I'd make sure you stayed home. She's just feeling really overwhelmed, and I don't want to upset her."

"Are you saying that me being there would upset her?"

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Davis, she's upset anyway. I want to do what she asks me to do- she needs to feel in control of something right now. She's feeling helpless, violated, vulnerable...not herself. If you want to help her, I think we should do what she wants." Damn, when did I become soothing and articulate? Maybe I did get some tact after all. Silence. Shit, not good. Maybe not. Count of three...still nothing. "Mrs. Davis?"

"Ok, ok, alright." She's agreeing with me? Someone up there must really like me. "If my not being there will help her feel not as bad about the whole thing, then I'll do that. I will. Promise me something though Max."

"Anything."

"Take care of her."

"That's a given Mrs. Davis."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Lump in my throat. “I swear on my life.."

"How did you find her Max?" My stomach clenches again. “How did you know where she was?"

"Liz told me where they were going. They didn't have to still be there though, it was kind of a wild guess." Uh oh, shouldn't have told her that.

"Thank you Max, thank you for taking care of my baby girl." Oh shit, I think I'm gonna break down right here and cry. Where the hell is my y-chromosome? Breathe. Better, I'm under control.

"Mrs. Davis, Liz is my best friend, I’d never let anything happen to her."

“She needs you now Max, remember that.”

“I know.”

“Get back to her Max, don’t leave her alone.”

“Yes ma’m."

I hang up the phone and lean my head against the wall. She needs me…and I need her, I’ve realized. If anything happened to her tonight…

I glance at my watch. Uh oh, it's been almost ten minutes since I left Liz with Dr. Aarons. Hopefully she won't castrate me on the spot. I sprint back to the exam room just in time to see Sara from the reception desk slipping out. I can't stop myself from asking the obvious question. "Is she OK?" She smiles at me. The ‘comfort’ smile again. "Yes, I just helped her into a gown. Dr. Aarons will be back in to do the exam." Oh thank God, I hadn't missed anything crucial. I nod a thank you to the nurse, almost knocking her over in my haste to get into the room. She's sitting in bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, her head resting on her good arm which is wrapped around her knees. My chest clenches for the zillionth time as I notice that her shoulders are shaking. I can't stop myself from sitting on the edge of the bed and putting an arm around her. What else can I do?

"Hey," she jumps a mile. "You ok?"

"No, I’m pretty damn far from ok…did you talk to her?” She looks like she's scared of the answer.

"Uh huh."

"And you're still alive?"

"Barely. Let's just say it's a good thing murder can't be committed over the telephone, but I told her you need to be alone right now."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Are you sure you about this?" She looks up, tears in her eyes. Damn, not again. I swear I won't ask her again. "Hey, hey, don't cry, ok? If you don't want her here, that's your choice." I can't stand it when she looks at me like that. I will do anything, just as long as she doesn’t look at me like that. And she's been looking at me like that a lot for the last few hours.

"I don't know what I'm doing, I can't even think...I just...I know she'd freak, she doesn't need to see this. I don't want her here...I want...I want...you."

She has a point, Mrs. Davis did freak when I broke the news. I don’t want to think about what kind of hysterics she’d be in if she was actually here. Wait…Liz wants…what did she say?


Liz
Oh God, did I just say that? Geez, I need to keep my mouth shut. Way to go Liz, scare him off, why don't you. I'm waiting for him to leave, run down the hall in a panic and tell my psychotic mother to get her ass down here before I can get any crazier. It doesn't happen. Instead, I feel his arms come around me, crushing me to him (or as crushed as I can be given the circumstances). This wasn't what I was expecting. I'm shocked to say the least. But it feels good.

"I'm here Liz, I'm here." His voice is gentle, and it soothes me. How does he do that? I sure don't know, but I'm infinitely grateful that he can. We sit on the bed, rocking slightly back and forth, and slowly but surely, I'm calming down.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" So much for that. We both look up, I more startled than Max, but he pulls back slightly, even though I don't let go of his hand. Aarons comes closer, smiling reassuringly at me.
"Hi," I try to say, but it comes out more like a squeak. Damn it.
"Hey, relax ok? The exam will be over before you know it, and I'll give you something for pain, then you can go home. I’m going to fix your shoulder first, ok?"

“Ok.”

“I need to see it. Can you slip your arm out of the sleeve?”

“It hurts…”

“Let me help you,” Max comes around to the other side of the bed and I watch him wearily. He unties the strings holding the flimsy gown up while grasping my arm as gently as he can. My arm hurts like hell and I’ve been trying to fight it, but the minute he moves it, I’m done. The scream escapes and I can’t stop it.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Max whispers trying to calm me down. The doctor joins Max by the side of the bed and stares at the swollen, bruised, disfigured mess that is my shoulder. It doesn’t look right…at all. I can feel myself start to hyperventilate and I have to will myself to breathe.

“Max, can you stand by her head? That way she’ll be able to see you and you can keep her calm.” What’s going on? “Liz, can you lay back for me?” I hesitate before leaning back and when I open my eyes I’m staring into Max’s upside down face. “That’s it, relax ok? Relax. Ha. Max cradles his hands on either side of my head, preventing me from moving it to the side. I’m suddenly filled with a dreaded sense of apprehension.

“Max, I’m scared.”

“I know sweetie, I’m right here.” His thumbs stroke the skin around my eyes gently.

“Ok, I’m gonna put your shoulder back now, take a deep breath.” Dr. Aarons puts his hands on my shoulder and before I can release that deep breath, I feel a pop, and the pain shoots down my arm like fire. This time, as the earsplitting scream reaches my lips, I try to bolt upright, but Max’s hands on my head keeps me from doing this.

“Shhh, Liz, you have to lie still.”

“Max, Max, it hurts…it hurts.”


Max

“Max, Max, it hurts…it hurts.” I look down and see the pain and desperation etched across her face and I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

“I know, I know it does. You’re doing so good.” I surprise myself, and her, by leaning down to kiss her forehead. My thumbs catch the tears that are sliding back towards her hairline. I look up and realize that Aarons is gone. Quickly, I slide one hand her arm and grasp her hand while moving to sit on the bed. She struggles to sit up without using the arm that is still tender. As I slide one arm around her shoulders to help her, I notice the unmistakable rope burn on her wrists. “Better?” When she nods, I turn my attention back to her wrists, taking one gently in my hands.

“Do these hurt?” I carefully trace one burn with the pad of my finger. She tries to pull away, but I won’t let her. “Do these hurt?” I ask again, more upset that she’s pulling away from me than that she’s not answering the obvious question. She won’t look at me.

“Of course they hurt Max!” She finally turns her head toward me, with eyes so full of shame that I can’t decide if I want to hug her, or go lose my dinner in the bathroom. Her eyes start to tear up. I go with my first option and quickly pull her close to me, being careful not to exacerbate her injuries.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she sobs from my shoulder I rock back and forth, stroking my hands through her hair.

“Snap all you want, little one. Shhhhhh.”



Liz

The use of that endearment brings me back to the edge of tears. It’s been his name for me ever since I can remember. I don’t know when or why he started using it, but it gets me every time. It’s Max.

Dr. Aarons chooses this moment to reappear and I have to fight the urge to tell him to go away. He's just doing his job- and he's being really nice about it. He takes his former position on the end of the bed. "Ok, Liz, just a few more things and we can get you out of here.” I nodd from the safety of Max’s chest. “Can you tell me what happened?" He’s holding a tape recorder. Deep breaths, deep breaths, in...out...in...out...in...out...in...out. "Take your time." I realize that the room has been silent for a whole minute or so. They're both waiting...patiently.

"OK, ok...well..." I can do this. Breathe. "Brett took me out, I guess he picked me up around 7 or so. We went to this bar- Cameo's? I think. When we got there, I lost track of him, I had no idea where he was after about half an hour or so...this guy Allan comes up to me and tells me that Brett's been looking for me. I didn't trust him at first you know, but he was the quarterback of our football team...I knew who he was and he said he'd take me to Brett...and I was mad at Brett for leaving me alone...so...I went...I know stupid me right? So I expect him to leave me at the bar with Brett...but he grabs...my hand....and...won't let go. And we pass the bar. And that's when I freaked out..."

And this is where I reach my quota for reliving painful experiences. I can't help it as my mind forces the memories on me, and I start to shake...and cry. Damnit, I'm so sick of crying. Max's arms tighten around me again. Through my tear blurred vision, I can see Aarons looking at me understandingly. He's just looking at me, willing me to continue. Somewhere through the haze, I hear Max's voice.

"It’s ok Liz, you can do this."

"Just relax, take your time," Aarons reminds me gently. Breathe Liz, breathe."

"Ok, ok...god...here I go again."

"It's ok," I glance appreciatively at the young doctor. He smiles back. I'm still sobbing, but I want to get this out. I have to, I can't keep starting and stopping, it'll kill me. Breathe.

"So...so, he drags me past the bar and I can't fight him, he's too strong...." Max's arm tightens around me. I can feel him blaming himself in his head. Damnit, there's another talk for another day. "And we end up in the basement...I guess....he drags me into this...like...storage room. And there's Brett. The two of them start...and I can't stop them...oh God!" My mind is officially in overload. I can't continue, even if I wanted to, I couldn't. The tears come, and they won't stop. And I go into my umpteenth breakdown in less than three hours. One thought keeps running through my head. I couldn't stop them, I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't.

"I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't....I couldn't...I'm sorry!" Max’s arms are still around me, rocking me back and forth like a two year old- and normally I'd be pissed. But to be honest, I feel like a two year old. And I want to crawl into his arms and never come out.


Max

I knew this would come. I knew she'd have to tell the doctor what happened. I know she can do it, but I don't know if I can handle hearing it. What am I saying? It doesn't matter, I said I'd be here for her and I will. I've got to be stronger than that...for her.

"So...so, he drags me past the bar and I can't fight him, he's too strong...." Oh God, the mental image of that asshole Allan Park...dragging...her through the bar makes me want to kill someone, preferably him. It looks like the next best thing is gonna be the next drywall I see. I want to punch a hole through the damn wall. Involuntarily, I tighten my grip. If only I HAD tied her to the bed, or at least been more insistent that she not go out with that bastard Brett. No, that wouldn't have worked, definitely would have had to go with the tied to the bed option. Subconsciously, I know that I could never have prevented her from doing what she wanted to do eventually without physically restraining her. She's not the kind of girl to let others tell her what to do. But that doesn't stop my protective instincts from going into overdrive. "And we end up in the basement...I guess....he drags me into this...like...storage room. And there's Brett. The two of them start...and I can't stop them...oh God!"

Shit.. Two of them? Brett and Allan? Now there are two names on my 'To Kill' list. "I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't....I couldn't...I'm sorry!"
"Shhh. It's ok, it's over, you're safe, it's ok." I keep mumbling anything reassuring to calm her down. Is this even helping? It's obvious she's officially lost it. I glance up at Aarons as her sobs become full out wailing and she clutches my already soaked shirt in her fists She's sorry? That's something else we're gonna have to discuss. I will not let her blame herself for this. Aarons looks contrite. I know the poor guy's just doing his job. What kind of sucky thing that must be- to have to hear people relive their most terrifying moments for the sake of medical records.

"I think she's had enough," I tell him, my hand on the back of her head, holding it to my chest. He knows I'm not trying to be mean. It's obvious to both of us that she can't take anymore. He nods understandingly. She doesn't hear us or witness the exchange, she's too involved with trying to rid her mind of whatever horrifying images must be going through it right now.

"Definitely," he concurs. He turns his attention to the sobbing girl in my arms. "You did good Liz." To my surprise, she looks up from my chest, her sobs momentarily subsiding., to acknowledge him. She nods.
"I'm sorry." My stomach flips again at those shameful words. But before I can say anything, he does it for me- immediately scoring major points. We exchange a knowing glance before he tries again.
"Look at me Liz," he commands gently. His voice doesn't leave room for argument. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You have to stop blaming yourself. You didn't do anything wrong. Think about getting better, ok? Don't dwell on what you could have done differently." This man IS my new best friend. "The orderly said you have a bump on the back of your head. Can I take a look?" She hesitates and then nods slowly. I stand up slowly, not letting go of her hand- not that I could if I wanted to, she's holding it too tightly.

"Max!?" I can tell by the edge in her voice that she's trying not to panic.
"I'm right here.” I assure her, and she seems to calm down fractionally. Fractionally being the key word here.

"He's gonna hold your hand the whole time, ok?" She nods again and squeezes my hand extra hard for insurance. "Can you roll over on your stomach?" She slowly rolls to one side, I can tell that it hurts. "Your side's good enough, don't hurt yourself." She winces. I wince from just watching her. She grabs my hand, and I can see she's trying to ignore a lot of pain. "You gonna be alright?" He moves behind her and she tenses.
"Uh huh," she tries to get out but it sounds like more of a moan than an answer. One of his hands gently supports the back of her neck while the other one prods gently at the silver dollar sized swelling on her skull. The instant he touches it, she jerks away painfully, gripping my hand like a vice.

"Sorry, I'm gonna get you a couple of icepacks and something to get the swelling down. Do you have a headache? Blurry vision? Anything like that?"

"A little bit of a headache," she admits.

"OK, you can roll over now if you want." She lets out a breath, and rolls slowly on to her back, sighing as the pressure on her other injuries is momentarily relieved. He leaves and Sara comes back in the room a moment later with an icepack and a syringe. I watch her flinch, and I flinch with her involuntarily. Here goes nothing…


Liz

This is quite possibly the most humiliating thing I have ever experienced in my entire life. That's all I can think as I hesitantly roll to one side to let Dr. Aarons look at my head. One side, because to lie on my stomach would be more torture than I care to experience right now. Throughout the entire mess, Max is there- holding my hand, almost as tightly as I'm holding his- and I'm actually really comforted by the idea of him being there. Sure, it's humiliating. But if it has to be someone, I'm glad it's him. Aarons leaves. Why am I tense again? I guess I have this irrational fear that something else is going to happen. Unconsciously, I grip Max tighter. The nurse from reception is back now.

"Here's an icepack for your head." She's smiling, I'm ok. I lift my head slightly and allow her to position it under the bump.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"J.D. will be back to give you something for the pain." She stops. OK, this is the part where she walks out, right? Wrong. She pauses...uh oh.

"Have you decided whether or not to press charges?" Oh God. Anything but that.

"I...I don't know. I guess I am."

"If you are, we need to collect evidence from you to prove the incident occurred." Ummm...I feel Max running his fingers over my white knuckles. I'm sure my eyes are bugging out of my head.

"Uh..." I look at Max. He runs his fingers over my hand again.
"It's up to you, Liz." Sara smiles reassuringly. He's being all noble, leaving the decision up to me, but I can see the expression in his eyes. 'Fry the bastards.' Damn straight.

"I will." Sara smiles at me again.

"You're doing the right thing." And I actually believe her. She disappears behind the curtain and I try to relax against the ice pack, which is starting to numb the pain in my head. Max immediately sits next to me on the bed again, searching my face. He asks the million dollar question.

"You ok?"

"No…yeah," God that sounded weak, not to mention unconvincing.

"You made the right decision Liz. He has to suffer the consequences of what he did to you." I have never seen so much conviction in his eyes, or heard it in his voice. To tell you the truth, it's a little intimidating. He pauses, his eyes going back and forth across my face. And to my complete surprise, he continues. "He has to pay Liz, you can't let him get away with this. I can't let him get away with this."

Huh? I stare at him, gaping like a fish.

"God Liz, if I ever see those two bastards again...and it's not through bars or a Plexiglas window, I'll kill them." Ok, now I'm speechless. Max has never been anything other than gentle towards me, zealous, but gentle. And definitely not violent.

"Max, I..."

Max

I'm going to lose it. Oh shit. I can feel it building up behind my eyes. I don't think I've cried since my grandmother died when I was ten years old. My breath hitches, my voice jumps about two octaves too high. But I can't stop the words from flying out of my mouth. She's looking at me like a cow looks at an oncoming train. I can't believe I'm doing this. But all I can see is Liz, the way I found her…bruised, broken, bleeding on a cold cement floor. And I can’t bear the thought that I might have lost her.

“Max, I…”

"God, Liz, I was scared...scared to lose you. Don't you ever do that to me again! I can't lose you." I think I just yelled at her. She shrinks back for a split second. I bite savagely into my lower lip, and breathe, but it seems like I can't do that anymore either. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the heat trying to build up. Through blurred vision, I look at her face. Her eyes are wide, her mouth open slightly, and then closing. I’m scaring her. Oh God. “I’m sorry Liz, I’m so sorry. I should have been there.” It just comes out, I can’t stop it. I try to soften my voice, but I can’t hide the barely disguised rage at not being able to do more. Thankfully, she’s edging closer to me now, instead of farther away. Unwilling to give her the chance to move away again, I wrap my arms around her tightly before she can protest.

“It’s not your fault either Max…you were there. Where would I be right now without you?” her voice is high pitched from my arms, like she’s trying not to cry. She’s right, I know, deep down, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking it, even if only for a few seconds.

“I know Liz, I know…I just can’t lose you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me.” Wow, this is a turn of events. Now who’s comforting whom? I hold her tighter, if that’s possible.

“I know.”
Liz

I’ve never seen him come unglued like this before. The way he’s staring at me, so intense, so convicted, I can’t look away. I almost want to. He won’t let me. Unconsciously, I back towards the other side of the bed before I realize what it looks like from his point of view. He thinks he scared me. And he did. A little, but not in a bad way. I can’t stand the look he’s giving me, one of guilt and fear; unimaginable fear. He really feels responsible for what happened. He really is scared of losing me. The thought shakes me to my core. No one, not even my own mother has ever looked at me like that. I want to comfort him this time, I want to tell him that I’m here. That thanks to him, I’m not going anywhere.

“I’m sorry Liz, I’m so sorry. I should have been there.” His voice is so quiet, I almost don’t hear it at all. When what he said actually registers, my heart skips a beat. And suddenly I’m back in his arms again. He’s holding me tighter, as if he’s afraid I’ll try to back away again.

“It’s not your fault either, Max, you were there. Where would I be right now without you?” I want to say so much more than that, but I can’t. I don’t have the energy right now.

“I know Liz, I know…I just can’t lose you.” He sounds so desperate.
“You’re not gonna lose me.” It’s all I can think to say at the moment, the only consolation I can offer, but it seems to be enough. He rocks me back and forth again as if I’m two years old. And for some reason, I feel his muscles relaxing along with my own this time.

Aarons chooses this moment to reappear. Sara is standing next to him. They sure know how to ruin a moment. I was beginning to wonder if they’d forgotten about us.

“You doing ok Liz?” He looks at me sympathetically.

“Yeah, I guess.” I’m tense all over again, and I don’t like it. I guess Max feels the change in my muscles, because he starts running his hands in soothing strokes up and down my back, sliding under the backless gown. Sara steps forward, smiling reassuringly. “In order to do the rape kit, we need to do a pelvic exam to collect evidence.” I gulp, wishing I could disappear into Max’s chest, or maybe the floor will open up and swallow me. Dr. Aarons doesn’t push, he just stands there for a few minutes, letting me get myself together. Max doesn’t say anything, he just sits there with his arms around me. I wish he would say something, but in the same thought, I realize that I have to do this myself, and he knows that. Deep breath. Max squeezes me slightly, giving me courage. “Ok,” my voice still sounds weak. Damn I can’t help it. I meant to sound sure of myself, but it doesn’t look like that’s possible at the moment. “Can he stay?” I ask hesitantly, gesturing towards Max. I’m half afraid that he’ll say no, that Max will have to leave. What am I thinking? Rationally I should be embarrassed; I should want him out in the hall. What’s wrong with me? I can’t bear the thought of doing this by myself. Dr. Aarons looks at me understandingly.

“Sure, if that’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

“Max…you won’t go…right?” I look up at him, scared to death. What if he doesn’t want to stay?

“I’m here Liz.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I’ve got you.” I nod. Max grips my hand tighter than before as he stands beside the bed, easing me back to reclining on the bed. He’s nervous, I can tell. But he smiles anyway. Even with his hand held in mine by a vice grip, I’m wishing I didn’t have to leave his arms, I feel naked without them. Aarons slowly approaches me, taking my other hand.

“Let’s just get this over with so you can go home and get some rest, ok?”

“Yeah, ok,” I croak.

“Sara’s gonna stand here and help me, ok? I’m gonna be as gentle as I can, you just tell me if anything hurts, can you do that?” I will not freak out.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Ok, deal. Can you slide down a little for me?” I glance up at Max’s face, trying not to panic. Reading my facial expression, he leans down, kisses my forehead and whispers next to my ear.

“ I’m right here, ok?”

“Yeah…yeah…ok.” I slide down on the bed and bring my knees out, ignoring the impulse to curl into a fetal position.

“That’s good, you’re doing great,” Dr. Aarons assures me, and I almost laugh because he hasn’t even started yet. Sara drapes a sheet over my knees as he steps between them and adjusts the lamp above our heads. I shut my eyes as tightly as possible. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think…keeps echoing in my head. “Don’t look, if it makes you feel better, ok? Keep your eyes on Max.”


Max

“Can he stay?” I wait with baited breath for his answer, knowing on some level that she really needs me to be here. I can understand why she doesn’t want to do this by herself, but the fact remains that I am a guy. I almost ask if she’s absolutely positive about this, when I remember the last time I asked her that question. I don’t want to see that look on her face again, so I hold her hand and breathe an internal sigh of relief when he says,

“Sure, if that’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

“Max…you won’t go…right?” I can hear her start to panic, thinking maybe I’ll leave her like this. How could I do that?

“I’m here Liz”. I squeeze her hand tighter, hoping she gets the message. “I’ve got you,” I stand and help her lay back against the pillows, letting her grip my hand as hard as she needs to. Her eyes lock with mine. God, she’s scared. I haven’t heard anything Aarons’s saying, I can’t take my eyes off of her face. I want to say anything to wipe that look off her face. I try to smile reassuringly.

“I’m right here, ok?” That seems to help…a little. She moves down on the bed, and I return my eyes to her face, unwilling to let them go anywhere else. I move my thumb over her knuckles. Her hand is shaking. I’ve never seen her this shaken before, and it’s unnerving, she’s always been so strong; which only makes me want to put my arms around her and not let go until she feels normal again. Too late, I realize, it’s gonna be a while before she feels normal again. Damn you Brett Karcher. Damn you Allan Park. They took something from her and she’ll never get it back-and I’m not talking about virginity here. I’m talking safety in her own skin, the ability to walk down the street without looking over her shoulder every other second. Damn them all to Hell.

I watch her eye Aarons carefully as he puts on a pair of latex gloves. I can feel her flinch. She can’t stand those. She’s never told me why, she only said they ‘freak her out.’ Her eyes widen when Sara guides her feet into the stirrups on either side of the exam table.

“It’s ok,” I whisper, trying to soothe her. I hope she understands that no one is going to hurt her again. Not here, and anyway, I won’t let them. I can see her knees start to tremble underneath the blanket as Aarons gently begins his exam. She grips my hand with a strength I didn’t know she had. Ouch. And I thought it was bad before. I know Dr. Aarons feels the change, because he glances up at her, meeting her eyes.

“Just relax, I’m not going to hurt you. Just relax.” Her whole body is shaking now, she’s biting savagely into her bottom lip, and whimpering, and she’s stopped looking at me. But I have to admire the fact that she’s trying to keep it together. “Ok, you’re going to feel something cold and a little bit of pressure. Just relax and breathe through it, ok? I’ll be as gentle as I can.” I can’t imagine how hard this must be. I have to distract her. Kneeling on the floor so that I’m eye level with her, I take her chin in my free hand and turn her face towards me. She tries to look away, but I tighten my grip enough to let her know that I won’t let her do that.

“Look at me Liz,” her face is turned towards me but she won’t look me in the eye. She’s staring at the blankets, and at her free hand that is helplessly clenching and unclenching. Her head is about level with my shoulder in her reclining position. With my free hand I roll her head on to my shoulder, holding it there and effectively blocking her view of Aarons with my neck. “Breathe, don’t worry about anything else, just breathe.” She sucks air nosily against my skin, as if she’d forgotten how until I reminded her. I can tell when Dr. Aarons finally inserts the speculum because her entire body goes rigid and she gasps. “It’s ok Liz, it’s ok, relax. I’m right here. That’s it. It’s almost over, just hang on to me.”

Liz

Oh god, Oh god, Oh god. Oh god. When he put those gloves on and adjusted the light, I had to remind myself to breathe. I shouldn’t be looking at him. But I can’t look at Max either. This was a big mistake. I see him reach for something…something… oh god…it’s a speculum. And that’s when I lose it. My entire body starts shaking.

“Just relax, I’m not going to hurt you, just relax.” Easy for him to say. But I appreciate the effort. I taste blood, I’ve just bitten clean through my lip. Damnit. Why do I have to have that nervous habit, among so many others? I’m not even aware of what he’s doing anymore. I don’t want to be. I’ll go insane. “Ok, you’re going to feel something cold and a little bit of pressure. Just relax and breathe through it, ok? I’ll be as gentle as I can.” Max’s hand suddenly grips my chin and turns my head towards him. I can’t look at him right now. But I don’t have much of a choice.

“Look at me Liz,” his voice cuts through the haze in my brain. Look at him. Since I don’t want to dislocate my neck among other injuries, I guess I have to. I’m shocked momentarily by the fact that his face is suddenly so close to mine. He’s kneeling next to the bed. He reaches up and coaxes my head onto his shoulder, keeping it there with one hand, stroking my hair. His other hand still holds mine. With my eyes pressed into the crook of his neck, I can’t see anything. I think he planned it that way. “Breathe. Don’t worry about anything else, just breathe.” It takes his reminded me for me to realize that I’d almost forgotten how. Greedily, I gulp air. It calms the trembling in my body somewhat. But I can’t help it when my entire body goes rigid and I gasp as Dr. Aarons inserts the instrument. But Max is right there, stroking my head, calming me down. “It’s ok Liz, it’s ok, relax. I’m right here. That’s it.. It’s almost over, just hang on to me.”

Max

Ten minutes, or ten years later, Dr. Aarons straightens up from the end of the table and turns off the offending bright lamp. “You ok Liz? I’m done. Just a few more minutes, and we’ll get you home.” She sags against me gratefully, the tension having left her body completely exhausted.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” she whispers, but it’s so raspy, I almost don’t hear her. I look up at Aarons, silently thanking him for being so understanding. He nods as if to say ‘you’re welcome’ but doesn’t stop trying to sooth Liz.

“I’ve got an injection I can give you for the pain. Can I look over the rest of you real quick?”

“Yeah,” she rolls onto her back, still holding my hand. She looks so tired, the dark circles under her eyes tell me she’s close to collapsing. Dr. Aarons begins by gently lifting the gown and prodding her stomach and rib cage with both hands.

“Tell me if anything hurts.” As he gently pokes her on the right side, she crushes my hand, screaming and nearly coming off of the bed.

“OUCH!”

“Ok, ok, relax. It looks like you have a cracked rib there. You’re gonna have to stay in bed for a few days, ok? Don’t move around too much, let yourself heal. “It’s not broken, just cracked.” She’s still trying to get her breathing back under control.
“Is there anything…um…wrong with me?” She’s still gripping my hand and looking at Aarons as if her life depended on the answer. I can feel the fear coming off of her in waves. Aarons obviously picks up on it too, because he sits carefully on the edge of the bed and studies her carefully.
“Physically, you’re going to be fine. There’s only what you would expect. Your muscles are stretched, so that’s going to be painful for a while. There’s some bruising and a little bit of bleeding. That should clear up in a few weeks. I took a couple of slides to check for STD’s and that kind of thing. I’m gonna give you two injections, ok? One for pain, and one to help you sleep tonight.” She looks up at him, her forehead wrinkling worriedly.

“Sleep?”

“Yeah, it’s understandable that you might have trouble sleeping for a while…traumatic things like this’ll do that to you. You probably won’t need it every night, but I’ll give you a few prescriptions to take home if you need them.”

“Oh, ok,” she slumps against my shoulder and I carefully put one arm around her. It doesn’t look like she’ll be needing any drugs to sleep tonight, but better safe than sorry. Sara is busy preparing the injections while he’s talking. Liz’s eyes dart nervously from her, to me, and back to Aarons. He suddenly looks very nervous. He doesn’t want to say whatever he’s going to say.

“There’s one other thing you need to be aware of…there’s a possibility you could be pregnant.”

“PREGNANT?” That’s all it takes. She collapses again into my chest, sobbing. “H-how do you know?”

“When I was doing your exam, it was obvious that you’ve either just ovulated or you’re going to soon.”

“No, no, I can’t, no!”

What do you say to that? Nothing. I just hold her tighter as she clings to me for dear life.

“It’s ok Liz, you just relax for now. I know it’s a scary thought, but whatever happens, we’ll deal with it…together, ok? We won’t know for sure for a couple of days. Do you think you could come back in a week or so for a pregnancy test?” She won’t look at him, she’s still sobbing and clutching at my shirt with both fists Looks like this one’s mine.

“Yeah, we’ll be back.” I turn my attention back to Liz, holding her face to my chest as Sara gently takes one arm and gives her one injection, and then movies to the other arm, skillfully maneuvering around me to give her the other one. Liz doesn’t even notice.

“There you go sweetie, that should make you feel a lot better. You just relax and let these two fine young men take care of you ok?” That earns her a smile, from both of us.

‘Thank you.’ I mouth silently, as she straightens.

‘You’re welcome.’ She mouths back as she and Aarons head for the door. “I’ll be right back to help you get ready to go ok?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I nod to both of them, Liz still sobbing helplessly into my chest. And they’re gone. I’ve never felt so useless in my entire life. I guess I’m being useful by giving her something to hold onto while she cries, and that’s perfectly fine with me, but she’s still sobbing…for the hundredth time tonight, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it. If everything that happened to her happened to me tonight, hell, I’d be sobbing too. I hold her head to my chest, stroking her hair, hoping that on some level, it’s soothing to her. “Shhh. You’re ok, it’s over. It’s over.” Sara returns not five minutes later with a wheelchair.

“Technically, it’s hospital policy that patients have to leave in a wheelchair, but I don’t think she’s ready to do that, what do you think?” I shake my head no, agreeing with her assessment. She leans down to Liz, whose sobs have digressed into whimpers, but she still won’t look at me, or Sara. “How ‘bout you just hold onto Max, and he’ll carry you out to the car?” For the first time in what seems like forever, Liz lifts her head slightly and looks at Sara. She nods slightly through the drug induced haze, and I think I see the slight hint of a smile on her face before she drops her head back to my shoulder, physically incapable of holding it up any longer. Her body collapses against me like a sack of flour, almost dead weight. I can tell she’s fighting the drugs, and failing. She’s a fighter, that’s just the way she is, and for the first time, I’m hoping she lets the drugs win. I have to remind myself that she will be ok. She will be.

Liz

Understandably, hearing I might be pregnant, might have created an innocent life out of a violent crime; and that life could possibly be living inside of me as proof that I was a victim…well…I couldn’t handle it. If I’d wanted to disappear into the floor before, I now wished I could just disappear…poof…no more Liz. Max seemed to understand this. He took over, talking to the nurse; making the decisions. I couldn’t, my brain wasn’t functioning. I didn’t want to look at anyone, I couldn’t. I didn’t even want to look at Max. But I wanted to go home, oh god, I just want to go home. I vaguely heard Sara mention something about a wheelchair, and I stiffened. To tell the truth, I didn’t want to let go of Max yet. Childish of me, I know, but like I said, I was feeling two years old, and I only wanted someone to hold me. I felt him shift a little and realized he was scooting out from behind me. Some frantic part of me grabbed at him, even though he only went about two feet.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. We’re going home.” I’m going home, Max’s taking me home, it’s over…I’m gonna be ok.

Whatever drug they gave me is starting to take effect, and I can’t think straight. My eyelids feel like ten pound weights on my eyes. I can feel my eyes beginning to close, everything goes blurry for a second. I’m losing control, I can’t lose control. Look what happened the last time I lost control. With that thought, my eyes fly open. Vaguely, I hear a voice, but it sounds a lot like the teachers on the Charlie Brown cartoons…waaawaaawaaawonkwonk. Max has put his arms underneath me, and a vague sense of weightlessness overtakes me as he lifts me, I guess a lot having to do with the drugs. I won’t lose control, I can’t lose control of my body again.

“Close your eyes, little one,” he whispers so the nurse can’t hear. I’ve got you, we’re going home.” I want to do what he says, I really do, but I fight it anyway. I’m ok, we’re going home. I’m ok, we’re going home. It seems like only seconds before he lays me gently horizontal on the backseat of his car, and he and Sara nearly smother me in blankets. They’re standing outside the car, talking, and I wish I could hear what they are saying, but the drug kicks in again, this time more insistently than before- and the added warmth of the blankets lulls me deeper into drug induced slumber.

Max
Finally! We’re going home. I glance at the dashboard clock. Shit! It’s almost 6:00! Mrs. Davis must be going crazy right about now. As we pull out onto the beltway, I glance back at Liz. She’s sleeping. Whatever they gave her at the hospital knocked her for a loop, and actually, I think that’s a good thing right about now. I’m running through the thoughts in my head. What the hell am I going to tell Mrs. Davis when I get there? Nothing? I really can’t think straight. Maybe she’ll wait for full explanations for at least a few hours. All I can think about is getting Liz home safe, warm, in bed- where she should have been for the past five hours. Before I’m fully prepared to face the firing squad, I’m pulling into the Davis’s driveway. Why did that drive seem to take half the time it usually does? I glance up at the sky, noticing the sun rising, turning the sky pink, a misty haze settling over the mid summer morning. I repress the thought that if I hadn’t shown up when I did, if I hadn’t taken a wild guess as to where she was, Liz would probably not be with me right now. No, can’t think like that, she’s here, she’s safe. That’s all that matters. Taking a deep breath, I open the car door and gently slide her into my arms. Her eyelids flutter a little.

“Max?”

“Yeah, we’re home, you’re ok.”

“Home?” I can tell she doesn’t really believe me.

“Yep, now all I have to do is get you into bed so you can rest, ok? Go back to sleep.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes fall shut again. I hurry up the walkway to the front door and pray that it’s open, the way it usually is. The knob turns.

The house is surprisingly silent and dark. I would have thought that Mrs. Davis would fling the door open in my face and steal Liz from my arms. I creep into the living room, past the couch. And there’s Mrs. Davis, passed out with an empty wine bottle dangling from her fingers. This isn’t good, and yet, I’m thankful…in some horrible way. It means I don’t have to deal with a traumatized girl and her traumatized mother at the same time. Because right now, the only thing I care about is the girl. I make my way slowly up the stairs to Liz’s room and carefully use one hand to unmake the bed and shift her on to the clean sheets. The second her body hits the bed, her eyes flutter open and she clings to me before I can move away.

“Max?”

“We’re home, it’s ok, we’re home.”

“Don’t leave me.” It is without a doubt the most pitiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“I won’t, just go to sleep, ok? Do you need anything?”

“No…” her eyelids drop. But the second I step away, she grabs for me again.

“Please…don’t leave.” There it is again.

“I’m not going anywhere, I just want to check on your mom. I’ll be right back.”

“NO!” Despite the obvious effects of the drug, she bolts straight up in bed and sways slightly. “I mean…I don’t know what I mean, just…I don’t want to be alone.” Tears leak down her cheeks. In a split second, I’m sitting next to her on the bed. I wrap one arm around her and coax her back down. Whatever they gave her at the hospital is obviously making her woozy, but she grabs my shirt, pulling me down on to the bed with her. She’s really out of it.

“Shhhh…Liz, you’ve got to relax, ok? You’re safe. It’s ok, it’s over, you’re safe with me.” She shakes her head miserably despite the words that come out of her mouth.

“I know, I know…it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t want to be alone, if I’m alone then I have to think and I don’t want to think right now.” Her eyes roll. I can tell the drugs are really starting to work. She sags against me. “I’m so tired.”

“Shhhh. You need to sleep.” She slumps back against the pillow, her eyes immediately closing. I adjust the pillow and pull the comforter over her shoulders. Her eyes flutter open and through her drug induced haze she whispers,

“Don’t leave me Max.” That’s it, that’s all I can take. Mrs. Davis will just have to recover from her drinking binge on her own.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I won’t leave you alone.” I climb up on the bed next to her and put my arm low around her waist, trying not to disturb her broken ribs. She sighs and shifts closer to me so our bodies are flush against each other. I can feel my eyelids closing and I glance at the red dial numbers on the clock, glaringly telling me that it’s 7 am. Thankfully, Liz is very much asleep. God knows she needs it after what she’s been through. I can’t help offering one more prayer of thanks to the higher power, before closing my eyes and letting Liz’s now even breathing lull me to sleep.

TBC

A/N: Thank you for the feedback! I'm glad everyone is enjoying this story...on with the angst.

Chapter 4

Liz


I’m home, I’m ok now, and I’m home. Max’s here. Everything’ll be ok because it has to be. Nothing’s gong to happen. I’m ok. So tired, have to close my eyes…wait…have to open my eyes! Max, it’s ok…Max’s here. He lays me on something soft and familiar. It smells familiar. I’m home, it’s my bed, in my room. I’m home. But I’m so cold, so alone, can’t feel him anymore.

“Max?”

“We’re home, it’s ok, we’re home.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, just go to sleep, ok? Do you need anything?”

“No…please…don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I just want to check on your mom. I’ll be right back.” Please don’t leave me Max.

“NO!” I bolt straight out of bed. I don’t realize exactly what that means until the room starts to spin and I realize vaguely that I’m heavily drugged. He can’t leave, I can’t be alone. I don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me. “I mean…I don’t know what I mean, just…I don’t want to be alone.” He’s sitting next to me on the bed again, and he forces me to lie down. Automatically, I grab onto his shirt, pulling him down with me.

“Shhhh…Liz, you’ve got to relax, ok? It’s ok, it’s over, you’re safe with me.”

“I know, I know…it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t want to be alone, if I’m alone then I have to think and I don’t want to think right now…I’m so tired.”

“Shhhh. You need to sleep,” he tells me. He’s right, I know. I slump down into the pillows, suddenly exhausted. He adjusts the comforter over my shoulders, making me feel safe again, and cared for, and before he can move away, I summon the last of my energy.

“Don’t leave me Max.” Please, please don’t go, please. And to my relief, he stretches out on the bed next to me and wraps his arm low around my waist, avoiding various injuries.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I won’t leave you alone.” I know by the tone of his voice that wild horses could stampede the house at this moment and he wouldn’t leave me. Momentarily pacified, I allow the drugs to take over for the first time since getting home from the hospital. I stop struggling, it’s just easier than fighting the inevitable. And for the first time, I feel safe enough to sleep. I concentrate on Max’s breath coming slowly in my ear. And it along with the drug in my brain, lulls me to sleep.


9:07 am

“NO! NO! NOOOOO! DON’T PLEASE, DON’T, NO, NO NOOO! Everything around me is spinning. I grab the sheets in my fists, trying anything to anchor me to some unmoving object. Something does anchor me, but it’s not the sheets. Strong arms are around me, pulling me back to reality.

“ Liz, Shhh. Shhh, shhh. You’re ok, it’s all right, no one’s going to hurt you now. I’ve got you.” Then it dawns on me. It was a nightmare, I’m home. I’m safe. I’m with Max. I grab on to him, frantically searching for reassurance. His arms tighten around me. He didn’t leave.

“Oh God, they were there, and I was there…and they held me down…I couldn’t get away. They were too strong…oh God…You didn’t leave, you didn’t leave” I cry into his chest. I silently curse myself again as tears run down my cheeks and I work on chasing the memory of the night before out of my head. The images of Allan and Brett are sharp and disturbing.

“Of course not, I told you I’m not leaving you.” For the first time, I allow the meaning of those words to really sink into my thick skull, which only makes me cry harder.

“Oh God, oh God. I just want this to be over!”

“I know. It’s ok. I know.” He rocks me back and forth. Like all the time back at the hospital, I wish he didn’t have to do it, and in the same breath, I’m thanking God that he is.

“What am I going to do? My voice is muffled by his shirt, but I know he hears me. “Max, what am I going to do?”

“You’re not going to do anything right now,” his arms tighten around me, if it’s possible. “You’re going to stay right here and relax while I go get you some Gatorade.”

“Yeah, ok.” And for the first time in a long time, I let him get ten feet away without going postal.


Max

I never really fell asleep. Can you blame me? I laid there on top of the comforter for hours, just watching her sleep. Thanking God that I got there in time. Trying not to speculate about the fact that if it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be here. I silently thank Dr. Aarons for giving her a good dose of whatever sedative he decided upon, realizing only then, how much she really needed it. Wish he’d given me something too. Thoughts keep chasing themselves around in my head, so that I am nowhere near sleep two hours later when she nearly catapults herself out of bed with the force of her nightmare. I expected this, really, can you expect a person who just went through hell to fall asleep and stay that way? I know I wouldn’t be able to. When she wakes up, crying and screaming her head off, I know the only thing I can do is put my arms around her and keep her from jumping off of the bed. I feel so helpless. Wait, what am I saying? I feel helpless? Get a grip Max, if I feel this way, I can only imagine how she must feel. Then again, I can’t. And I’m not sure I want to. I know she’s got to be dehydrated. She needs Gatorade, or Pedialyte, or at least some water.

“You didn’t leave, you didn’t leave.” She actually thought I was going to leave her? I don’t want to know what kind of trauma she must have had to go through to reduce her to the thought that I would leave her like this. I would never…and she has to know that.

“Of course not, I told you I’m not going anywhere.” She clings to me tighter. She’s covered in sweat.

“Oh God, oh God. I just want this to be over!” I wish I could think of something more comforting to say than,

“I know. It’s ok. I know.” It seems to be working, then she continues with more million dollar questions.

“What am I going to do? Max, what am I going to do?” She can’t start thinking like that. One day at a time.

“You’re not going to do anything right now,” I hug her tighter to prove my point. “You’re going to stay right here and relax while I go get you some Gatorade.” And to my complete surprise, the next words out of her mouth are.

“Yeah, ok.” She’s actually letting me step out of her arms reach.

Wow.

“I’ll be right back, promise.” Before she can change her mind and beg me to stay, I sprint down the hall to the refrigerator. As I move back towards the bedroom with the glass of Gatorade, motion from the couch in the living room catches my eyes. “Mrs. Davis?” I leave the Gatorade on the hall table and walk up behind the couch.

“Uuuhhh…” yep, definitely a hangover. My mind is torn in two directions. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Liz needs me, her mother needs…something. This is not a one person job, but I can’t think of another person. All right Max, get a grip. I’ll go back to Liz first and give her the Gatorade. I’ll talk to Mrs. Davis later. No one ever died from a hangover.

Liz is sitting up in bed, gripping the sheets so tightly, I think she’s going to tear them apart. Her eyes are shut tightly, making her face scrunch almost painfully. Her lower jaw is working so hard, I think she might break some teeth. And I’ve been gone less than five minutes. I nearly drop the drink on the nightstand as I sit quickly on the side of the bed.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I’m here.” In one jerky motion, her hands leave the bed and she wraps her stiff arms around my neck, balling her fists.

“Max.” She inhales deeply into my neck.

“Yeah, you’re alright.” My hands run up and down her back, and we both realize that she’s still wearing the ugly light blue hospital gown. Sara had said we could keep it since she didn’t come in wearing any clothes. Her eyes look down between us and I can hear what she’s thinking before she even says it. Her body goes stiff and she starts to shake. Abruptly, her shaking fingers leave my neck and go behind her, trying unsuccessfully to rid herself of the offending piece of semi-clothing. Her shaking hands can’t work fast enough for her, and she starts to really lose it, I can see the panic rise in her face.

“Get it off Max! Get it off!”

“It’s ok Liz, I’ve got you.” Quickly, I shift behind her and take her hands, pulling them away from the knotted ties. The second she feels the strings fall away, she grabs the front of the gown and throws it on the floor. Pulling the blanket up to cover herself, she begins to shake and sob again. I turn around to face her and she tumbles into my chest. “Shhhh….I know, I know, calm down, it’s alright.” I feel like I’ve been uttering these words of reassurance all night, and they don’t seem to be helping. Or maybe they are, and I’m too wrapped up in my feelings of uselessness to realize it.

Liz

He left…I know, he went to the kitchen to get me something to drink, and I know I need it. But now I’m alone, oh God. I grip the sheets and clench my jaw in an effort to maintain control. He’s coming back, he’s coming back. For a second, I worry about Mom. I haven’t seen her, I know she must be here. I vaguely remember Max saying something about needing to check on her. I know Mom, I know what that must mean…she’s drunk. She does that when she’s nervous or worried. And I think this qualifies. Poor Max, he has to deal with both of us. I owe him big time. My eyes have been clenched shut for so long that it’s starting to ache. I hear footsteps…the bed sinks and my eyes fly open.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I’m right here.” I hug him, I can’t help myself, I need the assurance that he’s there and I won’t get hurt again.

“Max.”

“Yeah, you’re alright.” He must be getting tired of saying the same things over and over and over again…it’s ok, you’re alright, you’re ok. How much can one person take before they just get up and leave? To my surprise, he just holds me closer, running his hands up and down my back, avoiding the ties on my…hospital gown…oh God…get it off. Get it off, get it off, get it off. I’m trying but my hands are shaking so badly they’re useless

“Get it off Max! Get it off!” I feel like I’m suffocating, I can’t breathe, the gown sticks to me, as if to say ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
“It’s ok Liz, I’ve got you.” Max’s hands grasp my wrists and pull them away from my back firmly. and seconds later, I’m ripping the vile thing away from my body. As a second thought, I pull the comforter up to my shoulders, figuring it’s not really necessary. He’s seen all there is to see anyway. I just want to sleep again. I’m so tired, but I’m shivering and shaking and nightmarish images are running through my head at a million miles a minute, making sleep impossible. Damnit, I’m crying again. Sob into his chest, clutch at his shirt, cry my eyes out…do we see a pattern here? I can’t help it. “Shhhh…I know, I know, calm down, it’s alright.” My stomach’s doing flip flops. I try to breathe deeply, but instead of lessening the horrible feeling, it makes it worse. Bile rises in the back of my throat and a hot flash spreads over my clammy skin.

“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick.” Not taking the chance of arguing with me, Max jumps out of the way and I leap off the bed, dragging the blankets with me, ignoring my cracked ribs and various other bruises. Every muscle in my body screams in protest, but I make it to the bathroom in time to retch the contents of my stomach into the commode. Even when there is nothing left, my body continues to rebel against me and I dry heave for several seconds. Shit. I hate this. Within seconds, I feel him come up behind me. He kneels next to me and pulls my hair away from my face, holding it back with one hand. A cold, wet wash cloth presses against my forehead and the back of my neck for several seconds before he wipes the rest of my face. More yellowish bile comes up my throat, and I throw up again. I swallow once, gasping and choking. Sucks is not a strong enough word for this. I’ve never felt more helpless and disgusting in my life! My body heaves with uncontrollable sobs. My lungs ache. I can barely breathe in between them. I try to suck in air, but every time I open my mouth, another painful sob comes out. He pulls me back into his lap.

“Shhhhh….breathe.” he whispers, tightening his grip slightly. For what seems like the millionth time, I collapse against him, exhausted. This is not happening. Twenty-four hours ago I was a happy, healthy twenty-one year old planning for a normal night out with a cute guy, now I’m a shivering, sobbing mess in the arms of my best friend, who’s suddenly got a whole lot more than he bargained for. Vaguely, I hear water running, then he pushes a glass against my dry lips.

“Rinse,” he urges gently, tipping the glass into my mouth. God, I feel so helpless. I swish the water around in my mouth, thankful that it sweetens the burning bitterness on my tongue. I spit it into the toilet. “You’re dehydrated; you need to drink all of it, ok?” I nod weakly, he tips the rest of the water into my mouth. I swallow greedily, not realizing how thirsty I was until the water soothes my parched throat. “Come on, I’m taking you back to bed.” I’m too miserably humiliated to say anything as he lifts me gently into his arms. He has to hold my head up so I don’t hurt myself more, as it tries to flop back. So tired. I don’t even register when he lays me on the sheets again and pulls the blankets up to my chest…my…completely exposed chest. Somewhere between the bed and the bathroom, I predictably lost the blanket in the rush to get to the toilet. Shit. Why did this have to happen to me? My vision is blurry, no doubt I’m crying again, but I can’t stop it. Max’s sitting on the bed; I can feel him looking down at me.

“Liz, it’s ok. Please…please look at me.” I don’t want to, but his voice is pleading me, and I can’t help myself. He sounds so miserable. And he looks even worse. I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the painful sight, but he starts talking anyway. “It’s ok Liz, I’m your best friend, right?” I nod, the dark shapes shooting at me under my eyelids. “I’d never let anything happen to you, this is what I’m here for, ok?” I know what he means. ‘Don’t be embarrassed around me. I just want to help you.’ I know he does. And I’m eternally grateful, really, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t really strange. When I open my eyes, he’s looking at me with such reassurance and sadness, that I can’t help smiling a little, just to get that desperate look off of his face.

“Thanks Max.” He deserves that and so much more. But I can’t think of anything else to say at the moment, the sedative still running rampant in my system.

“No problem, now, drink the Gatorade.” He props me up against my pillow and hands me the glass, leaving no room for argument, watching as I down the entire glass in less than a minute. “Do you want more?”

“No, thanks.” It comes out quieter than I had intended, and I suddenly realize how tired I am again. I sink against the softness of the pillows.

“You didn’t sleep very long, go back to sleep. Wait a second, I’ll get you something to wear.” He walks over to my dresser and immediately finds a big grey sweatshirt without any help from me. Wow, he really does know his way around. He guides the huge shirt over my shoulders and I try to help him with the arms, but it hurts and I wince more than a few times as he gently guides my arms into the sleeves.

“Stay?” He smiles at me, telling me without words that he will. He climbs up on the bed beside me and guides my head on to his chest. He starts running his fingers through my hair, something he does when I’m upset. It seems to calm us both down.

“Shhhhh, go to sleep.” I’m so exhausted, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the rhythm of his breathing is the last thing I remember.


Max

This is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I can’t stand to see her like this. This is not the Liz I know. Liz Davis is strong, independent, not this. In the last six hours, I’ve seen this whole new side of my best friend. I could never leave her like this. I’m bound and determined to get the Liz I know back. And I know it’s gonna take a long time. Wiping her face, holding her hair back while she heaves what’s left of her stomach into the toilet, I almost feel sick myself. She starts to cry as I pull her back into my chest, letting her rest her head against my shoulder. I reach up to fill a glass with cold water.

“Rinse,” I coax gently…and she does, spitting into the toilet again. “You’re dehydrated; you need to drink all of it, ok?” She downs the rest of the glass in one eager gulp. Her eyes roll back as she lays her head on my shoulder. So tired. “Come on, you’re going back to bed.” I don’t think she registers anything I’m saying. She’s too out of it. I look down as I lift her, realizing she’s completely naked. Shit. If she was coherent right now, she’d be yelling her head off. Lucky I’m in best-friend-and-care-taker mode right now, or I’d take the time to notice the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, the….shut up Max. She doesn’t need this right now. You don’t need this right now. What you need is to get her back in that bed. So I do, quickly laying her down. Her eyes flutter open and meet mine, and in that instant, I know she’s just discovered what I did a few seconds ago. She turns away, trying not to look at me, obviously ashamed. I pull the blankets up to her chest and sit on the bed. “Liz, it’s ok. Please…please look at me.” Slowly, painfully, she turns toward me, like she’s trying to put it off as long as possible. I wince. What can I say when she looks at me like that- like she wants to crawl into a hole and die? Deep breath. “It’s ok Liz, I’m your best friend, right?” She nods, still scrunching her eyes closed, like it hurts to look at me. “I’d never let anything happen to you, that’s what I’m here for, ok?” She opens her eyes. Don’t hate me.

“Thanks Max,” is that, did I see…a smile? Yes, small though it is, it’s there. I made it appear, somehow.

“No problem, now, drink the Gatorade.” (You’ll drink it if I have to run a tube down your throat.) I hand her the glass. She takes it from me, and down it in one gulp. “Do you want more?”

“No thanks,” she’s sounding tired. Puking your guts out will do that to you.

“You didn’t sleep very long, go back to sleep.”

“Stay?” Damn, there’s a huge lump in my throat, put there by the way she says that one word. How can I say no to that? She looks so scared, lost, alone. The least I can do is be there, right? She keeps looking at me, like my answer determines her fate. I can’t refuse her. When I smile, she visibly relaxes. Reclining on the bed next to her, I wrap my right arm around her waist, pulling her to me. Using my left hand, I guide her head onto my chest and feel her immediately go limp against me. I run my fingers through her hair, over and over, until I hear her breathing even out and I know she’s fallen asleep.

“You’re gonna be ok Liz. You’re gonna be fine.” I know I’m whispering things to her for my own benefit. But watching her sleep, I can’t help but silently vow to her that she WILL be all of the above if I have anything to say about it.



Suzanne Davis

Oh God. Damn it. Me and my drinking tendencies. I can’t do this, not when Liz needs me. Liz? Liz? The sun’s up, it’s well past dawn, and here I am lying on the couch like a damn delinquent mother. And where’s Liz? With Max, it’s ok, Max will take care of her. They have to be home by now, but I don’t hear anything. I swear I heard footsteps earlier, but that could have been my drunk imagination. Wearily, I pull myself off the couch, I have to know that Liz’s home, safe. Avoiding the empty wine bottle just barely, put one foot in front of the other. Ok, keep going. I can do this. When I finally make it to Liz’s room, what I see on the bed brings tears to my eyes. She’s there alright. With Max spooned up behind her on top of the comforter. His left arm around her waist, both of her hands resting lightly on his at her stomach. Sleeping. They look so peaceful now, but I can see faded bruises on my daughter’s face, and a pinkish handprint. I don’t think she’s wearing any clothes, but that’s to be expected, I guess. Oh God. My gaze shifts to the young man holding my daughter so protectively against him. Maxwell Ryan O’Reilly has lived next door to us his whole life. He and Liz met when the rambunctious four year old climbed a tree in our backyard and refused to come down. Liz was out there all day, not telling him to come down, not threatening him, just talking to him from her position on the ground as if he were sitting across from her at a picnic table.

He didn’t seem scared, or too anxious to come down at all. I would have been if I were a four year old stuck in a tree, but he just straddled the branch the entire afternoon and had a four-year-old- deep conversation with my daughter. And we haven’t been able to separate them since. It wasn’t until later that I discovered the real reason Max didn’t want to come down from that tree. And it wasn’t because he liked the view. His father had chased him around the house with an aluminum baseball bat, in what was apparently a drunken rage. Poor kid. The stupid people at child services were morons, they said there wasn’t enough evidence to convict. Evidence my ass! The kid showing up on my doorstep shaking like a leaf a few months later was enough evidence for me. Since then, he’s become the son I never had, and Liz’s undeniable right hand man. Thank God he found her. I’ve known for a long time that they’ve had a connection that goes more than skin deep, but this was nothing short of miraculous. The only thing that kept me from running to the hospital was the thought that Max was there with her and his plea that I stay at home was the only thing keeping me from grabbing my keys and high tailing it down there. She needed him, that was obvious. She still needs him, even a delinquent could see that. Her eyes squeeze tight and she whimpers in her sleep.
Max’s eyes pop open and he pulls her closer to him.

“Shhhhh…shhhhh.” He massages her shoulders gently easing her back to sleep. I feel like I’m intruding on something intensely personal. I go to move out of the doorway and give them time alone, but when I move, he sees me.

“Oh…hi Mrs. Davis…” He scoots slightly away from Liz, as if I hadn’t been standing here all along to see just how close he was. She moans pitifully in search of his body. Both our hearts clench at the noise.

“It’s ok Max…” He nods gratefully, picking up on my meaning and moves back to her, putting his arms securely around her. She immediately relaxes.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Davis.” What?

“What? It’s Nancy. You have nothing to be sorry for Max, you saved her life.”

“I know, but I knew that guy Brett was bad news. I should have stopped her from going out with him. I told her not to, but you know her, she doesn’t listen when she has her mind set on something.” He’s rambling. Poor guy. The guilt is rolling off of him in waves. He will not blame himself for this, not after everything he’s done to help her. Slowly, I move towards him, put my hand on his shoulder.

“You know as well as I do that she would have found some way to go out Max. We both know she has a mind of her own. This is not your fault. It’s not hers either. You are the good guy here. OK? I don’t think I will ever be able to do enough to thank you for that.” My eyes are moist, and when I look up at him, I realize his are too. “Do you feel like telling me what happened?”

“Can it wait a while? She’s…she’s been through so much, I don’t want to move just yet. She seems to sleep better when I’m here.”
“Sure. You hungry? It’s almost noon. I’ll make sandwiches.” I don’t wait for his answer before making an about face and heading towards the kitchen. Thank God for miracles.



Max
Wow, that went surprisingly well. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she obviously had a major hangover, but she was surprisingly understanding. Just how long she had been standing in the door, I’ll never know. It doesn’t matter. I’m here, I’ve been here. And I’m not going anywhere until Liz’s ok. Should I wake her up? She probably needs to eat.

“Liz?” I don’t want to, but I make myself do it. “Come on Liz, wake up. You need to eat.” She’s awake, groggy, but awake.

“Huh?”

“Your mom’s making sandwiches, you want one?”

“Nah, I’m just gonna…” she rolls over and winces at the pain in her ribs
.
“Don’t move, your ribs are cracked. You don’t have to get up, I’ll get you something, but you need to eat.” Her eyes meet mine finally.

“Oh, ok…” I don’t know if she’s completely aware of what she’s saying. Carefully, I extract myself from her arms and stand by the bed.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“It really happened, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Don’t cry, please don’t cry. She’s not openly sobbing or anything, but her eyes tear up and she squeezes them shut. I can’t help myself, I can’t stand here and watch her suffering without doing something. I sink back onto the bed and pull her up into my arms.

“It’s over. You’re safe, I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I know.” She’s talking into my chest, not really crying, but I can feel her trembling slightly. I run my hands up and down her arms and back, trying to warm her up.

“Can I get you that sandwich? I’ll be right back, and your mom’s up, I’m sure she wants to see you.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Liz

So sick of crying. I wish I could go to sleep and have someone wipe out my memory of last night. Because every waking hour, all I can see is their faces, their leering smiles as they touch me and torture me. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again. The only place I feel even remotely out of harm’s way is near Max. I know he would never let them touch me. Never. I don’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t know I had tears left to cry. No wonder I’m dehydrated, all my water is slowly leaking out through my eyes. I don’t want Max to see me cry anymore. He’s got to be tired of the constant cycle- cry, comfort, cry, comfort, cry, sleep, cry, comfort. What would I do without him? Hearing footsteps in the hall, I look up, expecting to see Max with my tray.

“Mom?” I want to disappear. I’m not ready for this; I don’t know what to say. But she approaches me slowly, the tray shaking slightly in her grip.

“Liz…” she’s crying, and I can’t decide if her eyes are bloodshot because of that or because of the hangover she must have.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Oh no. Not now.

“Mom, it wasn’t your fault!”

“It wasn’t your fault either Liz.” I don’t know what to say. Logically, I know it’s not my fault. But that doesn’t stop the tiny voice in my head that will not shut up. So I just nod. She puts the tray on the floor next to the bed and sits…slowly next to me as if she’s afraid I’ll break. “Are you ok?” Deep breath.

“Yeah…I…guess so, Max….he…he…found me.” We’re both crying now, neither one of us conscious of the person standing in the doorway, but each conscious of what he did.

“I know, God bless him.” She puts her arms around me and I start to cry again, not as hard as I was before, but definitely hard enough. She’s rocking me back and forth like she used to do when I was four years old. Like Max did at the hospital. “I’m so sorry honey, we’ll find them, ok? You did the right thing by pressing charges. We’ll find them and they will pay the consequences, I promise.” I can’t help but smile at my mom’s encouragement, basically the same thing that Max said, but it never hurts to hear it twice.

“I know Mom, I know.”

“You’re really ok?” I smile in spite of myself.

“Yeah.”

“Eat, do you need anything else?”

“No Mom…thanks.” She sits there watching me eat, as if she’s afraid I won’t. “Mom, really, I’m ok. I’ll be ok.” I know she doesn’t really believe me, heck, I don’t really believe myself, but I have to say something…anything so that she won’t smother me. Suddenly I want her to leave, almost as much as I didn’t want to see her at the hospital earlier. To my relief, she gets up and heads towards the door, kissing me on the forehead.

“I’ll send Max back.” Wow, she’s actually perceptive. Momentarily shocked, I can only stare after her with my mouth hanging open slightly. I have to concentrate on something, anything actually, other than the matter at hand. So I shove the rest of the sandwich in my mouth. Max appears in the doorway, and I let out a huge sigh of relief that I didn’t know I was holding.

“Oh, good, you’re eating.”

“Yeah,” and suddenly, I’m starving and I continue to stuff my face. He smiles from the doorway, I smile back through my mouthful of BLT.


“There’s the girl we know and love. You’re such a mess.” I assume he’s referring to the stream of mayonnaise and tomato juice running down my chin. I grin through the food, and more mayo lands on the comforter. He comes over, taking the napkin from the tray as he sits on the bed. Before I know what’s happening, he wipes the juice and mayo from my chin and the upper part of my neck. So gentle. So unlike the painful hands that put bruises there just hours ago. “How’re you doing?” Now there’s a loaded question.

“OK, I guess.” I really am feeling a little better, completely exhausted, but the food in my body is helping a little. “I feel really gross.” I know I smell. My hair hangs tangled and greasy all over my head. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s blood in it too.

“You wanna take a shower?”

“Yeah….that sounds good.”

“I’ll get your mom,” he starts to get up again, but I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that I don’t want her here. I don’t want her to see me like this- my whole body, bruised and scarred. Without thinking about it, I grab him.

“No, no. Max, she can’t see me like this, she’s gonna freak out.”

“I think she’s past that stage Liz.”

“You don’t know my mom, she’ll see what they did…what they did…and she’ll…please Max.”

“Ok, ok…what do you want me to do?” I can tell by the softer look in his eyes and the lower tone in his voice that he has decided to let me win this one. Normally, that would piss me off and I’d be yelling at him about how stubborn he is, but I’m relieved that he has decided not to fight me this time.

“Just….help me into the bathroom.”

“Ok, that I can do.” He helps me wrap myself in the comforter, but the minute my feet hit the floor, a wave of fatigue rolls over me and he has to wrap his arms around my body to prevent me from collapsing.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure!” I practically scream at him. There’s an awkward silence. His arms tighten around my stomach, avoiding my ribs. I suddenly realize how much I ache all over. The pain medication has worn off. And I suddenly realize how angry I sounded. I…I’m sorry…I”

“Shhhh, it’s all right. You want to do this? We’ll do it. Ok?”

“Yeah…yeah…ok.”

“Ok, I have an idea. We know you can’t stand up by yourself yet, so how does a bath sound?”

“Really good.” I can’t help but smile.

“Ok, sit here, I’ll go run it ok?” He eases me back on the bed, and I’m suddenly very grateful. My head still feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls. He disappears into the bathroom and the water starts to run. God, I’m tired. I can barely hold my head up, and part of me doesn’t want to try, but the larger part of me feels dirty, stained, violated, and I have the undeniable urge to scrub myself clean. I must have dosed off, because what feels like two seconds later, Max shakes me gently awake. “Liz? Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep?” As appealing as that is right now, a new feeling of repulsion takes over, the drive to get the stench of violation off even stronger. I force myself awake and try to prop myself up on my elbows. It annoys the hell out of me that just that simple act is exerting way too much on my muscles. I have to blink a few times to clear blurry vision. “Liz?...” I can hear the hesitation in his voice. He wants me to rest. Hell, who am I kidding? I want to rest, but I feel so dirty. So dirty.

“NO! I have to do this, I’m dirty, I’m nasty. Ok? I have to do this!” Damn it all to hell, I’m getting teary-eyed again with the effort of making him understand me. I feel, rather than see the exact moment that he understands.

“Ok, it’s ok. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He slides his arms underneath me, in what is becoming practiced ease.

“No, I want to walk.” He looks down at me with barely concealed disbelief.

“No, you’re not.”

“Max! Put me down!”

“Like hell I am!”


Max
She claws at my chest. I know she feels trapped, helpless. And I want to help her get over that, I really do, but there is no way in hell that I’m letting her walk in this condition. She’s just gonna have to put up with my overprotective side a little longer. I’m surprised at how well she’s attempting to struggle out of my arms.

“Liz, stop. You’ve got broken ribs.” She glares at me. If looks could kill I’d be a pile of ashes right now.

“NO!”

“Ok then.” I put her back on the bed. She glares harder at me, and then attempts to sit up, wincing and falling back on to the pillows. Her ribs are no doubt sore from the struggle she just put up. I know I’m being a bit cruel here, but it’s the only way I can think of that will get my point across. She won’t accept help any other way.

“God damnit Max!”

“Liz, you’ve got broken bones and bruises everywhere. I know you want to do things yourself, but you’ve got to get better first. Do you hear me? I’m not gonna let you do anything that will get you hurt again!” Her expression has softened and she’s looking at me with an expression that I can’t figure out. Then…almost so quietly, I can’t hear it…

“You didn’t hurt me Max, they did.” Shit, she’s right.

“I know. I know. Just do this for me? Please? Humor me.” She sighs, realizing that I need this as much as she does, and probably accepting the fact that she really can’t get out of bed by herself.

“Ok.”

“Come on, water’s getting cold.” She relaxes easier this time as I lift her. God, she weighs nothing. Note to self: get Liz to eat more. As I walk into the bathroom, cradling her easily in both arms, she looks away; and I see that look on her face again- shame, embarrassment. Call it whatever you want, it tears at something inside me. I almost ask her if she wants me to get her mom, but I stop myself. Something besides the fact that I know she’s going to protest- is it…possessiveness? Protectiveness? Something inside me identifies with the fact that she doesn’t want anyone else to see her like this. It’s embarrassing, vulnerable, weak…and I’m half honored and half confused as to why she wants only me to be here. I set her down gently on the toilet seat. "Liz, I'm going to take your shirt off ok?" She nods, looking slightly terrified. I lean down to kiss her forehead, simulataneously finding the hem of the large shirt and pulling it up gently, careful not to strain her injuries. "Shhh, it's ok," I whisper to her as I lean her against me and lift her again. I can't believe she trusts me this much. She looks so tiny and vulnerable leaning against me. I can see all of her again and the slowly healing bruises I see make me want to cry, or find the bastards who did this to her and kill them...slowly, with a baseball bat. Her eyes have drifted shut against my shoulder as I lower her into the steaming water. “Too hot?”

“No,” she whispers.

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Just…” her head flops back almost colliding with the ceramic tile, but I catch her under the neck a split second before it hits. “…my hair.”

“Ok, I can do that.” I can already tell she’s gonna need more help than that. I grab a large towel from the sink and use it to prop her head up against the back of the tub.


Liz

I want to fight him. I can’t, I’m too tired, and it feels too good to be taken care of right now. The hot water soothes and relaxes my muscles, and my whole body seems to melt into a puddle. His hands gently lather my hair in shampoo and massage my scalp. Maybe it’s the gentleness with which he does this, maybe it’s the fact that my body is super sensitive to touch right now. Whatever it is, his hands are the most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt, and in my weakened state, my eyes fall shut and I feel tears gathering behind my eyelids. His tender touch overwhelms me. It’s as if in one night, I’d forgotten how it felt to be touched with compassion.

Max

I see tears start to fall from behind her closed eyes. “What is it little one?”

“I…I just…you’re not hurting me.” Her voice breaks. “It doesn’t hurt.” She’s saying it as if she can’t believe it.

“I’d never hurt you Liz,” my voice is low and I make sure to say the words slowly and with conviction, “never, you know that.” She nods almost imperceptibly and I use the back of my hand to wipe away the tears.

“You still with me Liz?” Obviously not. Her eyes are shut, fluttering under her eyelids. Damnit, now what do I do? Resolved to finish this even if it kills me, I rinse her hair. Finding a wash cloth and some liquid body soap, I take my time washing her. I can’t help but flinch as I notice the bruising and abrasions all over her body. All of the bruises are hand or finger shaped. They lie on her hips and abdomen, but mostly on her breasts, which are almost completely purple. A few raised scratches on her shoulders look like someone dug their fingernails into her flesh. Her arms and legs look painfully bruised, her thighs sustaining most of those bruises. There are red abrasions on her wrists, where the ropes dug into the skin. I feel the anger simmering at the surface again, but I force it back. The evil bastards deserve to be shot, tortured and shot. I’ll do it personally I wash her hair gently, being careful not to wake her up and then. I drain the water from the tub and lift her out, laying her on the bed in the next room. Finding a clean t-shirt, I gently dry her off and slip it over her head. It’s amazing that she hasn’t woken up yet. I wrap her securely in the sheets, bringing the comforter up to her shoulders. She looks so peaceful. Brushing some stray hair off of her forehead (it’s still wet and tangled, but I’ll comb it later, I take a few moments to contemplate her sleeping face. She has been through so much. It hurts to think about it. I wish I’d been there, I should have protected her. I know it’s irrational. I know. But I can’t help it. She mumbles something incoherent and reaches out, clinging to me with an iron grip. My heart breaks all over again. God, what did they do to her? And I don’t mean physically, I mean emotionally, mentally, how long will it take for her to realize that it wasn’t her fault? How long before she lets people touch her without flinching? How long before the nightmares stop? How long before she can sleep peacefully? I don’t know. But I don’t care how long it takes, I silently promise her and vow to myself that I will be here until then, and afterwards. Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, I untangle her fingers from my shirt and lay her hands on the bed. She shifts slightly but doesn’t awaken, thank God. I take one last look in her direction before turning off the light and pulling the door slightly closed. Time to go find Mrs. Davis.

I find her in the kitchen, perched on a barstool, head resting on her arms.

“Hey.” Her head jerks up and she looks at me with bloodshot eyes.

“Oh, hey Max.”

“Anything I can do for you? Liz’s asleep.”

“No, no, that’s ok Max…I’ll…” Her tired eyes survey the once neat kitchen. There are alcohol containers everywhere, milk sitting out on the counter for who knows how long.

“Why don’t you go lay down? You look tired. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”

“Max…you don’t have to…ah, who the hell am I kidding? Thanks Max, you’re a saint.” With a tired smile, she pushes herself off of the barstool and heads toward her bedroom. She stops midway and looks back at me. “I made an appointment with outpatient services at the hospital. It’s next week. I have to work, I can’t get off…”

“I’ll be there.” As soon as the door closes, I set to work putting the milk back in the refrigerator, throwing away the empty alcohol bottles, wiping down the counters, washing the dishes in the sink, taking out the trash. It gives me something to do, to keep my hands occupied, but my mind is elsewhere. Every time I blink, I see Liz’s bruised and broken body. I couldn’t imagine how much pain she was in, physically and emotionally. I’m no psychologist, but I’ve been through health class. I’ve read books. I can see in her eyes that she already feels guilty about this. Somehow, she thinks it’s her fault. Maybe I can’t take that guilt away, but I can be here for her. That’s all I can do. And the knowledge itself is infuriating.


TBC

Thanks for so patiently waiting for the next part. Remember, feedback is the writer's crack.

Chapter 5


After cleaning up the kitchen and discarding all of the empty alcohol containers, I make my way back to the bedroom, surprised that she hasn’t woken up in a panic yet. She’s curled into a fetal position with her back to the wall and the blankets around her shoulders. Even in sleep, her body posture is defensive. The lines above her forehead that crease when she worries are somewhat more relaxed than they have been lately, but not gone. My chest constricts painfully as I watch her sleep. She looks so small and fragile and unlike the Liz I know. She moans softly in her sleep and I suddenly I’m crossing the large room and kneeling by the bed. I haven’t had a chance to just look at her, and now that I do, I realize the extent of the damage they did to her. One eye is nearly swollen shut, black and blue and purple. Her jaw is bruised and slightly swollen, and I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt her to talk. Then again, maybe it does and she’s hiding it. There are finger shaped bruises on her neck and shoulders. It’s like I can see them doing it. Get a hold of yourself Max. I now know what drives perfectly sane people to commit murder. Unable to help myself, I lace the fingers of one of her hands through mine, noting the rope burn that is still there. I stroke her cheek gently with the other hand. For almost an hour, I sit there, just watching her sleep. Then I see her eyes start to flutter open.

“Max?”

“I’m right here.” She opens her eyes completely and they fill with tears.

“Ma-ax,” her voice breaks.

“Shhh, it’s ok.” I squeeze her hand and brush a stray hair back from her forehead. She blinks away the first big tear, and another, and another. Struggling to sit up, she gasps with the pain in her ribs. “Lie still, sweetie,” I order her gently, pressing her back down on the bed. She blinks furiously. Her body is shaking and she’s breathing erratically, pressing her lips together, obviously trying to keep herself in check. Without really thinking about it, I climb over her to the unoccupied side of the bed, never letting go of her hand. She’s still shaking and beginning to hyperventilate. “What happened, little one?” I murmur into her ear as I turn her gently to face my chest. She clings to my shirt and starts shaking even more violently at the sound of my voice, but still has not said a word. Her bottom lip is trembling and her eyes are clenched shut. It’s obvious what she’s trying to do and after all this time, I can’t understand why she would try to hide this from me. I stroke her back, her face, her hair. I can’t stand to see her like this, it breaks my heart. “Let it out…it’s ok…I’m right here.” It’s too much. Whatever control she had breaks, and she buries her head in my chest, clinging to me for dear life.

“Ma-max, I’m so…so so-rry!

“What are you sorry for?” Oh no, here it comes.

“For...for not listening to you. I…should…have…listened. You…told me not to go out with him…and…I…didn’t…listen!” It takes her twice as long to get the words out because she pauses to let out a strangled sob after every other word.

“Hey…” she’s staring down and refuses to meet my eyes. I take her chin gently and force her to look at me. “Hey, listen to me.” My thumbs catch the tears falling down her cheeks as I cup her face in my hands. Her eyes are darting, looking anywhere but me. “Look at me, Liz.” Reluctantly, she brings her eyes back to me, and the shame I see in them makes me want to either vomit or hold her until she doesn’t feel that way anymore. “Don’t ever think that I blame you, Liz. The only people who have any blame in this are Brett and Allan.” She flinches as I say this and hides her head in my chest again. This time, I let her.

“I shouldn’t have gone with Allan.”

“What?”

“In the bar…I shouldn’t have gone with him.”

“Sweetie, even if you hadn’t gone with Allan, they were in it together. You weren’t safe.” She’s crying again. “Shhh. Was that what your nightmare was about?” She nods. “Want to tell me about it?”

“I was in the bar, Allan came up to me, it was like a reenactment, except this time, he picks me up and carries me, even though I’m kicking and screaming…I…I couldn’t get away…” She starts to tremble, and she’s sobbing again.

“Shhhh.” I rock her for nearly twenty minutes and she still doesn’t show signs of calming down. If anything, she’s shaking harder and bawling more intensely than she was before. “Liz, it’s ok, you have to calm down. Shhh.” I don’t think she can even hear me. I don’t know what to do. Then I remember the small bottle of pills Dr. Aarons prescribed. It’s sitting on the bed side table, looking like a bad omen and a saving grace at the same time. Before Liz can protest, I lean over and take the orange bottle and the half empty glass of water. Xanax: take once daily as needed for anxiety. The tiny white pills glare up at me from inside the bottle. It’s a last resort, but Liz is still sobbing and it is clear from her eyes that she needs to rest. She is so hysterical that she doesn’t even notice me opening the bottle and pouring half a pill into my palm.

“Liz, listen to me sweetie, I want you to take this, ok?” I keep my voice low and non-confrontational. She looks at me with wide eyes, as if suddenly realizing what I just said. Her eyes go from the pill in my hand to my face and back. She looks terrified.

“No...no Max, please…don’t make me take that!”


Liz

He’s drugging me now? Oh god. I know deep down that I’m out of control and there’s only so much he can do, but I’m not exactly feeling rational. “No, no no! Please! No!” I have to get out of here, I have to, not safe. Not safe. Using what little strength I have left, I fight with everything I’ve got trying to get away from Max.

“Liz! Liz, stop!” He’s not even holding me very tightly, just tight enough to keep me from going anywhere, but I’m too weak and tired to really fight him and he knows it.

“Let me go Max!”

“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” His mouth is next to my ear, his voice is low and husky. And he already knows the answer to the question but he wants me to say it. I hate it when he does that.

“No.” I gasp, and as soon as it’s out of my mouth, I know it’s true. All of the energy leaves me in a rush. The adrenaline is gone and I feel weak and dizzy. I slump back against him, breathing heavily and holding back tears. Max would never hurt me.

“I will never hurt you,” he says as if reading my mind. He kisses my hair. I shudder and sob and hiccup, staring down at my lap. I’m ashamed that the thought even crossed my mind that he would tell me to do something that wasn’t good for me.

“…’m-sorry,” I hiccup.

“What are you scared of?”

“Huh?”

“I know you don’t like medication as a rule, and normally I wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but you need to sleep Liz.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yes I am Max!”

“Liz, listen to me, you’ve got serious injuries that need to heal. You’re exhausted, and you haven’t gotten more than two hours of sleep at a time. I know you want to do this by yourself, but no one expects you to do that. You can’t do this by yourself, sweetie. It doesn’t work like that. Why do you think Dr. Aarons gave you this?” He shakes the orange bottle in front of my face. He’s right. I know.

“I know Max…I just…” The silence is deafening.

“Talk to me Liz.”

“You’re right, I’m scared.” He waits for me to continue. It feels like forever. I don’t want to tell him this, but I know he won’t let go of it until I do. It’s just that the thought of taking those pills is so terrifying, that just the idea of explaining it to him is making me hysterical. ”I’m… scared… of… losing… control!” I’m not even attempting to hold myself together. I’m losing it again. The next thing I know, I’m up against his chest, swallowed up by his arms that are gently but firmly holding me as close as I can possibly get. “I don’t want it to happen again!” I scream (or cry) as he rocks me. “I can’t…I can’t…I can’t!” Ok, yes, somewhere in the back of my whacked out mind, I realize that it’s practically impossible for it to happen again while I’m sitting here in my locked house, in the safety of Max’s arms, but like I said, rationality escapes me at the moment. “What if they come back and I can’t fight them? What if…what if they…kill me?!” It’s official, I’ve lost it. No wonder Max thinks I need sedatives.

“LIZ!” The tone of his voice startles me out of my breakdown for a second, and as I look up, he takes my head in his hands and shakes me gently. Is he…angry? No…no, that’s not anger…at least…not at me. The look of sheer conviction in his eyes scares the shit out of me.

Max

“Elizabeth Ellen Davis, look at me!” I don’t know if I’m scaring her, but I needed to do something to get her attention. It works. Her eyes fly to my face, startled. I catch her face in my hands before she can look away. “I won’t let that happen, Liz.” I say abruptly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, do you understand me?” She nods, tears still falling down her face at an alarming rate. I wipe them away with my thumbs and pull her back into my arms. I hold her head against my shoulder and start rocking again. Anything to calm her down. She’s sobbing a little less hysterically. “You’re safe now. You’re safe with me. Your mom’s downstairs. The doors are locked, and the hospital notified the police. You’re safe.”

“I know,” she sobs.

“Yeah, but knowing that’s not going to help you sleep, is it?” She shakes her head miserably. …“Do you trust me Liz?” She pulls back,
looking at me with a disbelieving glare. It almost makes me smile.

“Of course I do Max,” she whispers quietly.

“Can you trust that I won’t let anything happen to you?” She winces.

“But what if they…come after you?” Oh god, this just keeps getting better doesn’t it?

“That’s not going to happen.” I hold her tighter to prove my point.

“How do you know?” I sigh…here goes nothing.

“Liz…” I choke, forcing her to look at me again. “Liz…they left you on the floor sweetie. They weren’t interested in me, or anyone else. They’re just drunken assholes who probably don’t remember what they did last night.” Her head has found its place on my shoulder and I can tell she’s trying not to cry. “I’m sorry for telling you that.”

“You found me on the floor?” Shit. Her voice is muffled and high pitched.

“Yeah.”

“Was it bad?” Yes it was bad, I thought you were dead! Bad internal monologue, bad Max! A more diplomatic response…

“What do you remember?”

“I…I remember your voice. I was so cold, and it hurt…so much. But you kept talking to me. At first…at first I thought I was dead. I didn’t believe you were there because I figured no one would find me,” she sobs. Not a completely irrational idea, given the situation in which I found her..

“Oh Liz…Shhh, it’s ok now. It’s over. I’ve got you.” I rub soothing circles on her back as she cries into my shoulder. “Shhhh. You’re safe with me. Shhhh.”

After a very long time, her breathing evens out and I can tell she’s fallen asleep almost sitting up. Her body is dead weight against me. As I move slowly to lie down with her, she startles and clings to me, whimpering.

“Shhhh.” And she’s wide awake. Ok, that’s it. “Liz…” I lie down next to her with my head on the pillow. Almost unconsciously, I start running my fingers through her hair. “Liz…listen to me.” She’s still trembling and looking around as if she expects Brett and Alan to burst through the door at any minute. I stroke my hand up and down her arm. “I need you to trust me.” She nods. “I’m going to ask you again, do you trust me that I won’t let anything happen to you?” Nod. “You’re scared to take the pills because you think that something will happen and you won’t be able to stop it.” Nod. She closes her eyes. “Listen to me, here's what we're gonna do. You're going to take the pill and I'm going to stay with you while you sleep... the whole time." Her eyes fly open. "Trust me sweetie, I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll be here with you the whole time."

“You promise?”

“I promise…

“O-ok.” Before she can change her mind, I reach over to the bedside table and take the half pill and the glass of water. She sits up slowly as I hand them to her. Her hands are shaking so badly that I have to hold the water for her while she sips it. “It’s ok Liz, I’m right here, trust me ok? I’m not leaving you alone.” She downs the pill in one giant, hesitant gulp.

"Good girl."

Then, as if realizing what she just did, she starts to shake harder. I pull her into my arms and she clings to me as if her life depended on it. I think she might actually believe it does.

"Shhh. It’s ok. I’m right here.”

Liz

“Don’t leave me Max.”

“I’m not leaving you sweetie, I’m staying right here.” I nod, trying to allow that concept to actually sink into my brain. My fingers are starting to ache from holding onto him so tightly, but it would take an act of God to get to me to let go. Just taking the pill made me feel like I was giving up control. There’s no turning back now. And that scares the shit out of me.

“I’m scared,” I practically whisper, half hoping he doesn’t hear me because it’s one more thing I don’t really want to admit. As if the shaking of my entire body didn’t give that away…duh. Unfortunately for me, Max has canine hearing abilities.

“Shhh, I know baby…I know.” He rocks me and kisses my forehead. Wait…did Max just call me ‘baby?’ Have I entered the Twilight Zone? He doesn’t give me much time to contemplate it however, as he keeps whispering reassurances in my ear. “There’s nothing to be scared of anymore. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe. Just close your eyes little one. Shhhh.”

And then I realize something that I hadn’t really considered before. I’m giving up control…to Max. Max; the guy who drove my mother to the hospital when she had acute appendicitis and then stayed all night with us to make sure she was ok; drove me home and stayed with me while she was in the hospital; the guy who somehow appeared out of nowhere the day I got violently ill with the flu two years ago and started throwing up everywhere. He magically appeared behind me in the women’s restroom and was holding my hair back. (I was too grateful to ask exactly how he got in past the gym instructor). He then somehow charmed the school nurse into letting him take me home since I was in no shape to drive. My mom was out of town for the weekend, so he stayed, made cold compresses for my head when my fever spiked, cooked me meals I could stomach, let me drink all the fruit juice I could stand, and I think we watched every movie in the Disney Animated Classics Collection. I trust Max with my life.

Suddenly, my eyelids feel like they weigh a ton. I’m not sure if it’s because the drugs are taking effect, or if I’m just that tired. Maybe both. I’m snuggled up against Max with my head on his chest He’s stroking a hand through my hair and his other arm is draped securely around my waist. He’s still speaking soothingly in my ear, but I’ve stopped trying to figure out what’s he’s saying. All I can make out is the timbre of his baritone voice that sends a soothing rumble through my body. And in that moment, I let go of my tenuous hold on consciousness. I know that he meant what he said. Max will take care of me.
TBC

A/N: Thank you everyone for your support. I feel I should explain some things about myself that will clarify why I am writing this. I am a senior psychology major in college and my particular interest is in sexual assault, rape, abuse, etc. So to answer some of your questions, yes, I am aware of the morning after pill. I am also aware of the protocol involved in a sexual assault examination (I am so glad to see that I have well informed readers out there!) As far as the story goes...these issues will be addressed and explained as it progresses. Thanks again for your comments and compliments!

Chapter 6

Max
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to help her. I guess just being here for her is all I can do, but it leaves me feeling painfully inadequate. As I lie here watching her sleep peacefully, thanks to the pill I had to practically force her to take, I start thinking (something I really shouldn’t be doing right now.) What the hell happens next? The police are supposed to call to tell us when they’ve caught the bastards who did this to her. Then, according to Dr. Aarons, they’ll want an official statement from both of us. And then there’s the follow up appointment next week. And the pregnancy test. Just those two words make me break out in a cold sweat. Dr. Aarons also gave me the names and numbers of a few psychologists who specialize in sexual abuse and rape. He encouraged me to have her contact at least one of them after we get the results of the test. Now is definitely not the time to bring it up with her, but I have to eventually. It’s more than obvious that she’s gonna need professional help. But right now, she’d rip my head off, or have another nervous breakdown. I look up and see Mrs. Davis standing in the doorway. Geez, she’s either really good at sneaking up on people, or I am just that distracted.

“Hi Mrs. Davis.”

“Max, please, it’s Suzanne.”

“Oh, ok.” She walks into the room and sits in a chair across from the bed.

“Talk to me Max.” Uh oh, here goes.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“What did the doctors say? Is she alright? I heard her crying earlier. Has she been doing that the whole time?” Oh boy.

“Yeah, pretty much. They did the exam at the hospital and they said she should be ok physically after a couple of weeks. Emotionally though…”

“So what can we do?”

“They gave me the numbers of a few psychologists who specialize in this kind of thing. She needs counseling, obviously.”

“What does she say to that?”

“I haven’t really discussed it with her. I don’t want to overwhelm her, you know? She’s…not in a good place right now.”

“I wish she would let me be there for her.”

“Suzanne…” I sigh. The guilt between the two of us is a tangible force. I don’t think right now would be the time to tell her that Liz thinks she’s pretty much incompetent to handle a crisis situation.

“I know…I know, you told me over the phone. It’s ok. At least she’s sleeping.” Ha. Sleeping. Should I tell her I had to practically force a sedative down her throat? I decide not to enlighten her; it would only make matters worse. “Do you want something to eat?” She’s pleading with me to at least let her do something to make herself feel useful. Poor woman.

“Um, yeah.” My stomach rumbles at the mention of food. “What time is it?”

“Nearly dinner time, I’m gonna go make something that hopefully Liz will eat…some soup or something.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“I’ll bring it up to you.”

“Thanks…I…uh, I told her I wouldn’t leave her.” Mrs. Davis smiles almost imperceptibly, but it’s the first trace of happiness I’ve seen on her face in the last 12 hours.

“I know Max. Just hold her. That’s what she needs you to do right now.” I nod, tightening my hold around Liz’s tiny body, watching Mrs Davis smile faintly and shut the door behind her.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, Mrs. Davis is standing above me with a tray carrying two bowls of steaming hot beef and vegetable stew. I sit up carefully adjusting Liz who is still sleeping peacefully, curled up against me. She hands me a bowl and then sits in the chair across from the bed, watching us closely.

“Thanks, this is really good.” And it is, I have to give her points, Mrs. Davis is an excellent chef.

“You’re welcome,” she says softly. I look up from my soup and realize that she hasn’t touched hers. She’s stirring it listlessly and starting at it as if it holds the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

“You ok…Suzanne?” She jerks her head up as if I had caught her committing a felony.

“Yeah…I…yeah I’m fine.” Sure she is. That’s why she looks like she’s about to start crying into her soup bowl. She tucks a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear and shifts nervously in her seat. She’s lying. She knows it, I know it, and she knows I know it. I decide to let it go though, if she wants to talk, she’ll talk.

“When is Liz’s doctor’s appointment?”

“Oh…I…um, I made it for a week from tomorrow which means it’s…next Tuesday at 10. You’re still gonna be there right? I tried to get off work but I couldn’t and she can’t go alone…”

“I’ll be there,” I cut her off. Both Davis women tend to ramble when they get nervous. She smiles at me with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

“I don’t know what we’ll do if…” she trails off.

“We have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”


Suzanne

“We have to cross that bridge when we come to it.” He bends down to kiss the top of Liz’s head while she continues to sleep curled up next to him as if she wants to crawl inside of him and never come out. Excuse me? Did he just say “WE’LL have to cross that bridge when WE come to it?” He continues to gaze down at my daughter’s sleeping form as if she is the only thing in the room. This man is either a freak of nature, or a saint, maybe both. Most guys his age would be running the other way right about now. If there is one thing that definitely makes him a guy though, it is the fact that he is completely oblivious to how in love with her he is. You’d have to be blind, deaf, and just plain stupid to not see it. Or you could be a twenty-one year old male and oblivious, either way, he’s hopeless.

“I wish I knew how to help her more.” What? Does he not see what he is doing? Does he not realize how much more of an emotional wreck Liz would be without him? Would she even be alive? I shudder at the thought, fixing him with a stern look.

“Maxwell Ryan O’Reilly, you are a saint and an angel, don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” I stand, bending forward, I kiss his forehead, and ruffle his hair. I’m a mother…sue me. I wish I had a camera to capture the look on his face.

“Mrs. Davis…” his face is turning every shade of red, and he looks like he’s about to protest. I reach out and tilt his up so that he is staring straight at me.

“You’re here for her Max. You’re here for her and you hold her and you let her cry, no matter how many times you’ve heard it before. You don’t pass judgment, and you make her feel safe. That is what she needs- more than anything.” They’ve always been there for each other. Max was there when Liz’s father left; and to this day, I know he crawls into her bedroom window in the middle of the night when his father’s rampages progress from annoying to threatening.

“Thanks, I really needed to hear that,” he says slowly.

“You’re welcome, now, get some sleep. Can I get you anything else?” He glances at Liz and then back at me.

“I don’t think so.”

“Alright, goodnight Max.”

“Night Suzanne.”

Max
Well, that was enlightening. I’ve never been good at accepting compliments; and Suzanne Davis is not someone who hands them out like candy. I’m glad she has so much faith in me; one of us has to. I’d be here even if she hated my guts, but the fact that she likes me makes life a lot easier.

“Max?” I look down to see Liz staring up at me sleepily.

“Hey little one.” I smooth her hair back from her face.

“You didn’t leave,” she rasps out.

“Your mom couldn’t even get me to the kitchen for dinner.”

“You ate didn’t you?”

“Yes, I ate. How did you sleep?”

“Ok I guess, I’m still tired."

“Are you hungry? Your mom made vegetable beef stew.”

“Yeah, I am a little hungry.”

“I’ll go get you some ok?”

“Ok.”

Liz
I watch him leave the room, trying to stop the room from spinning. I feel like I have cotton balls stuffed in my ears. And my limbs feel like uncontrollable extensions of my body. Stupid drugs. On the other hand, I must have slept for five or six hours. I didn’t tell Max because I wanted to see if I could do something without freaking out. I fight the sudden panic and vulnerability that crashes into my brain like a tidal wave. So much for that. I’m lying on my back, can’t move, can’t breathe. Max. He just went down to the kitchen for the soup, he’ll be back…he’ll be back…he’ll be…

“Liz…breathe. It’s ok, take deep breaths. I’m right here, you’re ok. Nothing happened. Deep breaths, that’s it. It’s ok.” His arms are wrapped around me and I’m sitting up against him. The room stops spinning and I can breathe. When did he get back? Why can’t I be alone in my room for five minutes? When did I lose my mind?

“Max…Max.” I gasp, apparently incapable of complete thoughts or sentences.

“Shhhh, breathe. It’s ok. It’s ok, I’m here.” I slump back against him, exhausted, and oh look, the room is spinning again.

“Max!” I cling to his shirt and shut my eyes, trying to anchor myself.

“Just breathe, it’ll pass, shhh. It’ll pass, it’s ok.” I guess he’s figured out what’s happening. When the world stops turning and I can attempt to breathe normally again, he holds me for a few more minutes. “You ok?” he asks, kissing my hair gently.

“Yeah…yeah, I…god, that needs to never happen again.”

“Maybe you won’t need it again.”

“I hope not.”

“Ready for that soup? You’ll feel better with something in your stomach.” He picks up the tray from the floor, but instead of putting it in front of me; he puts it on his own lap and offers me a spoonful.

“Max, I can feed myself,” I scowl at him. He scowls back.

“Work on sitting up and not seeing double, then we’ll talk.”

“I can…” and then I realize what I’m saying, and I curse inwardly because he’s right..

“Uh huh…and if you have another panic attack or the room starts spinning again, you shouldn’t have a bowl of hot soup on your lap.” Max: 2 Liz: 0.
“I’m not an invalid.” I scowl again, shooting him my worst evil eye, but it doesn’t work because…it’s Max.

“Put the eye back in its cage, Liz. I know you hate it when other people insist on taking care of you, but you’re not changing my mind.”

“So when are you gonna stop treating me like I’m incapable of doing anything for myself?” He sets the spoon down, exasperated, and I can tell he’s trying not to say something he’ll regret later.

“When your cracked ribs heal, and your dislocated arm is better, and you can walk to the bathroom without help,” he answers directly. Ok, so I wasn’t expecting that. And right now, it’s taking everything in me not to break down and cry. “Eat, Liz,” he says gently, not alluding at all to the frustration that was in his voice moments before. I suck in a breath and open my mouth, allowing him to feed me. With every spoonful, the guilt gnawing at my gut grows exponentially. By the time the bowl is empty, tears are sliding silently down my cheeks and I can’t stop them. I close my eyes when I hear Max put the tray on the floor. This is it. I’ve pissed him off and I wouldn’t blame him for getting up right now and walking out…I am so stupid sometimes. The bed shifts when he stands up and the tears come faster, I can’t help myself. With my eyes still closed, I can’t see what he’s doing, I can’t watch him leave.

I hear the rustle of fabric dropping to the floor and the covers are pulled away. The bed dips. I feel his hands come up to cradle my face. Startled, I open my eyes. What is he doing? His shirt and socks are on the floor. He’s kneeling on the empty side of the bed next to me as he wipes away the fresh tears with his thumbs. He kisses my forehead, and I flinch but he pulls me into his bare chest. Before I have a chance to react, he gently cradles my entire upper body with his forearms and supporting my head in his hands; he guides me down to the bed and lies down next to me. I can’t fight him anymore. I can practically hear him in my head, ‘You can fight the whole world Liz, but you can’t fight me.’ Damn him knowing which buttons to push. I’m trying really hard to stop hiccupping and crying like a four-year-old but it’s useless. He pulls me to his chest and pushes my head right under his chin, keeping it there with one hand. A tiny part of me screams that I should push him away because I don’t deserve this; but I just can’t.

Besides the fact that my arms are stuck between the two of us, I have no energy left, and I’d have to somehow wrestle my way out of the two-person straightjacket he has created with the blankets. Then I’d have to climb over him to get out of the bed. Yeah, right. And despite myself and my feminist independence streak, I don’t want to resist him. I have never felt safer than I do right now, surrounded by Max’s strength, protected. I bury my face in his chest and inhale as deeply as I can without aggravating my ribs, cursing myself for behaving like one of Pavlov’s dogs because the scent of him instantly calms me. It’s a mixture of Irish Spring soap and Cool Water cologne, but to me it’s just ‘Max.’ Wonderful, Liz, why don’t you just start panting and drooling now? He already thinks I’m half way to insanity, so maybe he wouldn’t think it was all that weird. I must be tired, because that’s when my brain stops making sense to me. I can feel his breath on my forehead as he runs his hands up and down my arms in a gentle, calming motion. My eyes start to feel heavy, I’m so tired. He’s so warm. His body heat seeps into me, forcing my tense muscles to relax. How does he do it? It’s like I have an uncontrollable reaction to him…and he knows it. Somehow he is able to calm me down. The world doesn’t look so horrible from inside his arms…and he didn’t have to say a word.



Max

Her entire body is shaking so hard that it’s vibrating through me. I saw the look in her eyes when she opened them. Guilt. Panic. She thought I was going to leave. She’s crying silently into my shoulder, I can feel the tears pooling on my collarbone. I can’t stand to see her cry and not be able to do anything about it. The past 24 hours have been hell. Part of me feels like an ass for being so harsh with her, the other 90% knows that I simply told her the truth and she knows it. I didn’t mean to upset her but I won’t apologize for telling the truth. I doubt anything I say to her right now would do much good anyway, so I keep my mouth shut. The only thing I can think to do is hold her. If she doesn’t want me to…well, too bad. I tighten my grip on her and brush my lips across her forehead, cocooning us tightly in the blankets so that her body is up against mine and she has no choice but to acknowledge the fact that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to comfort her but I have no words that I haven’t said already. After an eternity, her noiseless sobbing dies down. Her shoulders stop shaking and her breathing evens out. Finally.

TBC

A/N: I started this story a very long time ago, when the morning after pill was fairly new, thus the reason that it is not mentioned in the initial examination.

Chapter 7

Max

3:07 am

Why am I awake? I look at the clock and realize that I’ve only slept for three hours. The hazy fog of sleep takes longer to lift because I haven’t gotten much sleep lately. I roll to one side, intent on falling right back to sleep when I open my eyes and realize that she’s gone. Liz is gone and the sheets are cold. And I’m wide awake. Shit.

“Liz?” I turn on the dim bedside lamp and swing my feet to the floor. She’s not here. I don’t bother putting on a shirt before leaving the room and running down the dark hallway. It’s a very large house, but the hoity-toity developers decided it was a good idea to put nightlights in the walls every ten feet, so I’m not going to kill myself falling down the stairs. Not that I even get that far, the shower in Liz’s bathroom is running. It doesn’t take a genius to figure this one out. I try the door, praying that it’s not locked. To my complete surprise the knob turns. I open the door and squint into the harsh light of the bathroom.

“Liz?” I shout over the white noise of the water. Nothing. Gathering every nerve in my body, I move over to the shower and pull back the curtain. She’s sitting in the very back of the tub, still wearing the t-shirt she wore to bed. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and she’s pale, shivering, and soaking wet. Oh god.

“Liz!” She must have been sitting here for a while because the water is freezing cold even though the knob is turned all the way to the left. I can see the red marks where the once scalding water burned her skin. A litany of curses flies through my head so fast; I don’t have time to process them all. She doesn’t look at me. Shit. Without a second thought, I turn off the water and grab a large towel off of the rack. I step into the tub and wrap it securely around her but she doesn’t even flinch, even though the burns look painful.

“Liz, Liz, look at me.” She doesn’t respond. Crap, she’s probably at least mildly hypothermic. I carefully lift her into my arms and carry her down the hallway to the bedroom. I put her in the oversized armchair in the corner, because leaving her on her bed as soaking wet as she is would only make matters worse. Have to get her dry, warm her up, have to talk to her. Can we say deja-vu? I find an extra large sweatshirt and sweatpants in the bottom drawer of her dresser, but before I can turn around I hear the smallest squeak, followed by a louder, choking sob. Dry clothes in hand, I turn to face her and the sight breaks my heart. She’s curled into the fetal position, tears streaming down her face, still shivering, but at least she’s looking at me. Quickly, I kneel down beside the chair and grasp her forearms, pushing the soaked towel off of her shoulders. “Liz, baby; talk to me.” I cup her clammy cheeks in my hands and force her to look at me. “Look at me, Liz. Talk to me sweetie.”

“Ma-max…” Oh thank god.

“Ok Liz, it’s ok, I’m just gonna help you get dressed and warm you up.” Without giving her a chance to protest, I pull the soaked t-shirt over her head and wrap the towel around her again, soaking up the excess water. “I’m going to help you put a sweatshirt on ok? You need to get warm.” She nods and allows me to guide her stiff and shaking arms into the arm holes of the sweatshirt. She sits passively as I pull her hair out from under the collar of the shirt and towel it dry. The pants are more difficult, since she can barely stand. When she’s dressed in dry clothes, I take another stab at the communication thing. “I’m going to get you something hot to drink.” Her head jerks up and she looks at me with panic clearly written all over her face. “It’s ok,” I tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “I’m not leaving you alone.” My chest aches every time she gives me that look. She’s still shivering as I lift her into my arms and walk across the room to the bed. I set her down on the sheets. Tucking her in securely, I try to reassure her. “I’ll be right back, and some hot tea will make you feel better, I promise.”

In the ten minutes it takes me to make her a cup of herbal tea and strip to my boxers because my shorts are soaked through. she has reverted back to the fetal position, arms wrapped around her knees, trembling violently.

“Come here, little one.” I lie on the bed next to her and pull her into my arms, cocooning the blankets around us and forcing her to stretch out against me. When she’s not curled in on herself, it intensifies her shivering to the point where she’s making the bed vibrate.

“Ma-Max…I”

“Shhh.. Take a sip.” I put one arm around her to help her sit up and lean against me. I offer the steaming mug of sweet tea to her and find myself running my fingers through her hair. I hold it for her while she drinks because her trembling hands would spill hot tea all over the bed.

“Wh…what’s hap-pening to me?”

“You were in the shower too long and you got too cold. It’s just your body warming itself up.” Absently, I wonder how much she remembers. “We’re gonna stay wrapped up like this so you can absorb some of my body heat. You need to stay warm.” I can’t tell if she’s nodding or shivering. I pull her closer into me so that there isn’t any space left between our bodies and offer her the tea again. When she has finished the whole mug, I help her lie down again and I tuck her head beneath my chin, resuming our position from earlier tonight.

“Ma-Max, I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh, it’s ok.”

“No, I really am…I didn’t mean to…I just…”

“What happened?” I wish she would go to sleep, but I know she won’t let this go until she lets it out.

“I had another nightmare.”

“About Brett and Allan?” She nods into my chest, ashamed, as if I didn’t know in the first place.

“I…I felt…so dirty. I just…had to take a shower. And I scrubbed and scrubbed, and I still felt…like shit. Like I couldn’t be touched. I just wanted it to go…away.” By this time, she’s sobbing, making the trembling and shaking worse. The way she’s talking is starting to make me feel nauseous. I can’t even imagine…and I don’t want to. I want to kill them. I want to kill them, or at least maim them to the point where they can’t remember their own names. The urge is almost overwhelming, but Liz doesn’t need that. She needs me here. Now. So I choke back the boiling anger and kiss her head, whispering in her ear.

“I know you won’t believe me and that’s ok, but I’m going to say this anyway, for the record. There is nothing wrong with you, Liz. You aren’t tainted, or dirty. And what happened to you was out of your control. I need you to tell me what you need though. If you don’t want to be touched, tell me…”

“No! Max, I…” she puts her arms around my shoulders and clings to me as hard as she can given the state of her arm. “I…I don’t know why but, I…I need you to hold me. It…it makes me feel safe. And, if you can still stand to touch me then, maybe…maybe I’m not as…dirty as I think I am.” She dissolves into sobs. The bowling ball in the pit of my stomach flips over. I’m not an idiot. I know her reaction is par for the course in a situation like this, but it still kills me to hear her say it.

“Ok Liz, ok.” I tighten my arms around her slightly and her death grip around my neck loosens. “I’ll hold you. I’ll hold you as long as you want me to, but I need you to promise me something.” She stiffens but doesn’t say anything. “If you ever feel that way again, ever, or you have another nightmare, or anything; you wake me up, or call me or do whatever you have to do. I don’t care if it’s 3 in the morning or if I’m next door or a thousand miles from here, call me. Wake me up. I’m right here, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to help you, so let me.”

“But Max, I…”

“This is not up for discussion Liz. You could have seriously hurt yourself tonight. You tell me, if I hadn’t found you when I did, what would have happened?

Silence

“I don’t want to do it, but I will take you back to the hospital if I have to.” That gets her attention.

“Max! Please don’t!” Her death grip around my neck returns, shaking her head frantically.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, and let me help you, and I won’t,” I remind her, hugging her gently. I hate to use her phobic fear of hospitals against her, but she needs to realize that it’s ok to ask for help.

“I promise,” she whimpers into my chest.

“Ok, let’s try to get some sleep now.” I kiss her on the forehead and realize that it’s becoming an automatic soothing gesture for both of us. I watch her close her eyes and attempt to control her breathing.

“I…I can’t.” I tuck her head underneath my chin again and hold it there.
“You can, just relax. I’m right here.” To my complete and utter surprise, she actually listens to me. I notice with relief that her color is slowly returning and she has stopped shivering. The glowing green dial of the alarm clock says it’s 4 in the morning. I briefly wonder how much sleep I can get before she wakes up screaming again.



Suzanne 7:39 am

The phone is ringing. Why the hell is the phone ringing before 8 in the morning? Grumbling to myself and hoping it doesn’t wake Max and Liz, I fumble around the sheets before locating the portable phone. God help the person on the other end of the line. I am a self-proclaimed morning bitch.

“Ello?”

“Hello, may I please speak to Elizabeth Davis?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Detective Jeffery Thomas with the Washington, D.C. Police Department.” Oh.

“Can you hold for a minute? I’ll see if she’s awake.”

“Sure.” Oh boy. This is going to be a fun day. I haul my ass out of bed and upstairs to Liz’s room. Our house is big enough that it allows us to each have our own floor basically to ourselves. The door to Liz’s room is cracked. Looking in, I see Max and Liz cuddled up to one another, their foreheads touching, the blanket wrapped tightly around them. She looks so peaceful, I don’t want to wake her and I know she hasn’t been sleeping well. I know she’s going to freak out. I make a snap decision.

“Detective Thomas, this is Suzanne Davis. I’m Liz’s mother. She can’t come to the phone right now but I’m going to put you on the phone with Max O’Reilly. He found her on the night of the…incident. And he should be able to answer your questions better than I could.

“Thank you m’am.”

“Max.” I shake his shoulder. “Max.”

“Huh…what?” Poor boy, he looks like he got about five minutes of sleep.

“The D.C police department is on the phone. They want to talk to Liz, but I thought that…” Understanding dawns and he nods.

“I’ll be right there.” A few minutes later, he emerges, hair sticking up in all directions, still obviously half asleep.

“What do you think they want?”

“Uh, probably to set up the interview to get our statements.”

“Oh…ok.”


Max

I can hear her trying not to freak out.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll talk to him and see what he says.” Chewing on her bottom lip the way Liz does when she’s nervous, she hands me the cordless phone. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself, for what I’m not sure. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. O’Reilly?”

“Speaking.”

“I’m detective Jeffrey Thomas with the D.C Police Department.”

“Yes.”

“I’m calling regarding the incident that took place involving you and a Miss Elizabeth Davis?”

“Yes.”

“I understand you were the one to find her that night?”

“Yes,” I actively block the memory out so I can concentrate on what he is saying.

“I was assigned to work on your case and I’m calling to set up a time to interview you both and collect the official statements. There is also the matter of official photographs that need to be taken.” Oh right, I was wondering when that would happen. “The photographs will serve as evidence of her injuries, which I understand were pretty severe?”

“Yes.”

“Those need to be taken as soon as possible so that the jury can see the true severity of her injuries.”

“I understand.”

“Are you prepared to give a statement?”

“I am, I don’t know about Liz, she’s still…not so good.”

“Understandable. Are you with Ms. Davis now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it would be possible for her to come down to the hospital today to have the photos taken?”

“Yeah, we could do that.” My head is starting to spin with all of this new information. I’m already trying to figure out how Liz is going to deal with this…oh god.

“Could you come around 11’o clock? I will meet you both at Outpatient Services?” Wow, he doesn’t waste any time.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Ok Mr. O’Reilly, thank you, I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.” When I hang up the phone, Mrs. Davis is standing there nearly biting a hole through her lip with nervousness.
“They want her to come back to the hospital so they can take pictures to document her injuries and get an official statement.”

“When?”

“He said 11 o’clock.”

“That soon?”

“Better than later, that way Liz won’t have time to imagine the worst and they want to take the pictures today so that the injuries are still relatively visible.” She doesn’t say anything for a long while and I’m starting to worry. “Suzanne?”

“I’d go with her but…I don’t think she wants me to.”

“I’ll make sure she’s ok, Suzanne.”

“I know.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes and I can’t stop myself from hugging her. “Thank you, Max.”

“No need to thank me. I’d do anything for Liz.” And as soon as I say it, I realize how true it is. I would do anything for her.

“I know you would. You’re doing everything you can do. You know that right?”

“I know, it’s just…hard to watch her go through this. She’s so scared, every time I leave the room, she thinks I’m never coming back.” She sighs.

“That’s not just because of this, Max. That’s an old fear coming back to haunt her and this has just intensified it. You know that.”

“Yeah I know that.” For months after her father left, Liz was an emotional basket case. She walked around school like a zombie, and wouldn’t talk to or see anyone. She had been out of school for a week when I finally decided that enough was enough. I skipped school and snuck in to her house through the basement door. I knew where they kept the key. I expected her to be stark raving mad for “breaking into her house” or something but she took one look at me and collapsed into my arms, begging me not to leave her. I promised her I wouldn’t, and I have never broken that promise.

“I’m not going anywhere.”


Liz
He’s not here. He’s not here but I am not going to panic. I’m 21 freaking years old. I need to get a grip. Max should be able to leave the room without me going postal. I should be able to relax in the safety of my own room, damnit. I close my eyes and force myself to relax. It must have worked because the next thing I know, Max is standing above me, shaking me gently.

“Liz…time to get up.”

“Max I’m so tired.
”
“I know you are sweetie but we need to talk.” Ok, now I’m wide awake. He stretches out on the bed and positions his arm around my shoulders and pulls me so I’m half resting on his chest. “The D.C. police department called this morning and the detective wants you to come back to the hospital to make an official statement and have some pictures taken.” Oh god.

“Pictures?”

“Of your injuries, for the court.”

“Oh god.” I have been so intent on what he is saying that I didn’t realize that I’m shaking again. He kisses the top of my head and tightens his hold.

“It’s gonna be ok. If you want, I’ll stay with you the whole time.”

“You…you will?”

“Yep, I’ll hold your hand, just like before, and we’ll get through it, ok?” He squeezes my hand for emphasis.

“W-when?”

“This morning at 11.”

“Oh.”

“The sooner we go, the sooner it’ll be over.”

“Yeah, I know…” He’s right, and part of me just wants to get it over with. And then he hits me with,

“Liz, it’s ok to be scared. Hell, it’s ok to be terrified,” he’s murmuring in my ear. “But the really scary part is over. You survived that, you can do this.” Why does he have to make so much sense? “Come on, it’s a little after 9. I’ll help you get dressed and your mom is making breakfast."




Max


I can’t feel my hand anymore. And I’m actually thankful for that because I think she may have broken it. It’s 10:45 and I can feel the anxiety rolling off of her in waves. We’re sitting in the industrial comfort furniture universal to hospital waiting rooms and I think my butt is going numb too. She rests her head on my shoulder and I can tell she’s struggling to breathe normally.

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you ok?” Huh?

“Yeah, I’m ok…are you ok?”

“I guess so.”

“You’re going to be alright Liz.” She sighs and leans further into me and I can feel how tired she is. She got less than 5 hours of sleep last night, and I know she needs more than that to make up for what she’s lost.

“Elizabeth Davis?” A friendly young nurse smiles at us as I pull myself to my feet and coax a suddenly resistant Liz up with me. “Hi, I’m Karen.”

“I’m Max and this is Liz.” Her bottom lip is trembling and her eyes are large and dark.

”Hi Liz, can you follow me? I’ll take you back to an exam room.” I try to let go of her hand but she only grips me harder. Ouch.

“Max?!” Oh no, I can’t take it when she looks at me like that. Suddenly, the situation dawns on Karen.

“Would you feel better if he came back with you?” She nods frantically, gripping me like a life line. “Ok, that’s fine, come on back.” She shows us back to a private room that is equipped with gynecological exam table and a small doctor’s station. Once the door is closed behind us, Karen sits at the desk and motions for us to take the two chairs near it. As soon as Liz is sitting, her knee starts bouncing in a nervous reflex and she is still holding, or rather, cutting off the circulation in my hand. “Liz, I’m a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner, do you know what that is?” Liz shakes her head nervously. “I do the examination when a woman has been sexually assaulted, collecting evidence and taking the pictures that will be necessary if she wishes to press charges.”

“Why didn’t you do the first exam?” Liz asks cautiously.

“Dr. Aarons is also qualified. He probably didn’t mention it, having more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Oh.”

“There is one option that you should be aware of, it doesn’t look like Dr. Aarons mentioned it to you, it’s fairly new.”

“Option?”

“Yes, it says here that there’s a possibility you could be pregnant?” She shudders, clinging to me tighter.

“Y-yeah…”

“Have you heard of the Morning After Pill?”

“Uh…no.”

“It’s a combination of concentrated oral contraceptive hormones that can be taken up to 72 hours after unprotected sex to prevent pregnancy.”

“Oh…wow.”

“It’s 80% effective, but there are a few disadvantages; initial nausea, vomiting, and heavy irregular periods and bleeding,” I can feel Liz looking at me but I can’t make this decision for her. I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “If you want to take it, you should do it soon since it looks like it’s been a little over 48 hours.” She smiles reassuringly when she notices that Liz looks like she’s about to lose it. “It’s a lot to take in and it’s a big decision to make, I know.” Liz is starting to hyperventilate. By now I can recognize the signs.

“Can you give us a minute?” I ask the nurse politely and she nods understandingly before leaving the room. “Liz?” She turns to look at me with unshed tears in her eyes and I immediately open my arms. She falls into them like dead weight. Almost immediately, I can feel her façade crumble and she starts to cry.

“I want it,” she chokes out against my shoulder.

“Ok, ok.” I stroke my hand through her hair and pull her on to my lap, trying to hold her tighter while avoiding unhealed injuries.

“I want it gone, oh god Max, I want to kill my baby!” God help me.

“Shhhhhh. Liz, it’s your decision, your body, nobody is judging you for this, least of all me.”

“I…I can’t have a baby Max.”

“You could put it up for adoption.”

“Then what? I’d always know there was a person out there who was half me and half some deranged asshole. What if 18 years from now they decided they want to find me? Then I’d have to tell them that I actually only have a fifty-fifty guess as to who their father is, and anyway it’s not worth knowing because either way their father was a rapist! She breaks down into sobs again and I’m at a loss for words.

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you all the way, you know that right?” She nods against my shoulder, wiping her runny nose on my shirt.

“I can’t do this!” she suddenly screams. “I can’t be pregnant! I can’t! I can’t! I won’t be able to look at myself in the mirror for the next nine months, and see what I did, what they did! I…I can’t! I hate myself!” She collapses, almost howling into my chest and I’m half afraid we’re disturbing the whole hospital. I have no idea what to do at the moment so I do the only thing that comes naturally.

“Liz, baby, shhhhh.”

“I want to MURDER an innocent little baby!” She’s getting more hysterical with each passing second and it’s starting to scare me.

“Liz…” I hold her as tight as I dare to without hurting her. “You have to calm down sweetie.” She lets out a high pitched moan into my shoulder.

“What am I supposed to do Max?”

“You have to do what is right for you, no one else.”

“But the baby…”

“There might not even be a baby, Liz, but the question is what feels right for you.”

“Oh god.”

“Liz, whatever you decide, we’ll get through it.”

“I can’t do it, Max.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t have a baby.”

“Ok.”

“I can’t, I can’t do it.”

“Ok.”

TBC

Chapter 8

Liz

I’m a horrible person. I’m a murderer. He’s right, there might not even be a baby, but what if there is? I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t. It’s too much…too much, and I’d hate it. I never thought I could hate a baby, but I actually think that I might and that scares the shit out of me. How could I hate someone who was growing inside me? How could I not hate something that reminds me every day of what happened? No child deserves that. I always thought I’d have a child conceived out of love, and here I am possibly with a baby who was conceived out of the most violating crime imaginable.

“I’m selfish.”

“No you’re not Liz, you’re surviving.”

“Having a baby wouldn’t kill me.”

“I didn’t mean physically.” Damn him yet again for being right. “You deserve to be a little bit selfish, Liz. Remember you said you’d take care of yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes that means being selfish.” I sniffle, nodding dejectedly into his chest.

“I know you want kids later Liz, so you have to take care of yourself now so you can be a better mother to them too; that’s not selfish.” Oh god, did he have to say THAT? This only further proves the point that Max knows me better than any other person on this planet. I nod just as someone knocks at the door and I realize it’s been over 15 minutes since Karen left us alone.

“How are you doing Liz?” Karen asks me as she pokes her head in the door. How am I doing? HOW AM I DOING? Well, let’s see. A little over 48 hours ago, I was brutally sexually assaulted by two men. Since then my best friend has seen me naked, beaten, shaking, crying, scared, vomiting and having one nervous breakdown after another. I have gotten no sleep, except for the time he had to drug me. I could possibly be pregnant, and I have just accepted the fact that the only way I can feasibly live the rest of my life is if I don’t have this baby…which may or may not actually exist. Other than that, I’m peachy. I’m just about to say exactly this when Max squeezes my hand, having realized that I’m just about at the end of my chain. I bite my tongue. She was just being nice.

“I…I want to take the pill.”

“Ok. Here’s what we’ll do. Put on the gown that’s on the table over there and then we’ll take some pictures. While we’re doing that, I’ll call in a dose to the pharmacy downstairs.”

“Ok.”

“Do you feel up to talking to the police after that?” Oh god, I completely forgot about that.

“I…uh…do you think we can reschedule? I just…don’t think I can handle it right now.” She gives me an understanding nod.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She leaves the two of us alone again and the silence in the room is deafening.

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me…with the gown?”

“Sure.”

Before I can make a move to stand up, he stands up with me in his arms and sits me on the end of the examining table. I watch in a daze as he bends down to slide the shoes off of my feet. I unbutton my jeans and allow him to help me slide them off. I wore an old, lose button down shirt because it hurts too much to lift my arms over my head. I unbutton it and he helps me slide it off of my shoulders. The bra I wore has a front clasp so I can undo it by myself but he has to actually take it off for me. He covers me with the gown, guiding my arms through the sleeves and moves behind me to tie it. Fighting back a wave of tears, I reach beneath the gown and slide my underwear off, dropping in the pile with my other clothes. I would be humiliated…but it’s Max, not like he hasn’t seen it all anyway. He comes back around to my front and cups my face in his hands. “I’m right here, ok? I nod frantically, grabbing his hand and fighting back the waterworks that don’t seem to want to stop. My eyes feel permanently swollen and my head pounds with fatigue from the non-stop crying I’ve been doing lately. He lets go of my hand and moves away. I panic until I realize that he’s only moving the chair closer to the table so he can sit down near my head and still hold my hand. He takes my hand in a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s gonna be ok,” he whispers, and I force myself to relax.

Max

Trust. Absolute, unwavering trust. It amazes me that she can even let me touch her after all of this, but the past 48 hours have been anything but normal. As I help her put the gown on and then tie the strings in back, I can see her shoulders hitch and I know she’s close to breaking again. I come back around to face her and my suspicions are confirmed when I meet her teary, bloodshot eyes.

“I’m right here, ok?” She nods and blinks rapidly but it doesn’t exactly hide the fear. I pull up a chair near her head and try to think of something, anything, to put her even a little bit at ease. “It’s gonna be ok.” I can see her forcing herself to relax. God would the nurse just get here and do what she has to do? I don’t think I can stand much more of this. Liz just needs to go home. As if reading my mind, there’s a tentative knock as Karen says,

“Are you ready Liz?”

“Yeah,” she croaks out, tensing up again.

“It’s ok, just relax,” I remind her quietly under my breath. She nods again and consciously relaxes her body although it’s obvious that it takes a lot more effort this time.

“We’re gonna make this as quick as possible Liz, I know you just want to get out of here. We’ll start with your face, ok?” She grips my hand hard and nods, swallowing a lump. With a Polaroid camera, Karen quickly takes pictures of the bruising on her jaw, the faded slap mark on her cheek and the bruising on her eye. “Ok, now your wrists…” Liz tentatively lets go of my hand and holds her wrists out, immediately gripping my hand like a vice when Karen is finished. “Good, now I need you to lower the gown to your waist “

“Max?” she says with an edge of panic creeping back into her voice.

“It’s ok Liz.”

Liz

He moves behind me to untie the gown and I shrug it off of my shoulders, trying not to shake like a leaf. I close my eyes under the scrutiny of the camera as she takes pictures of my chest, breasts, stomach, and shoulders; the bruising and handprints still extremely visible. Max stands slightly behind me. He finds my hand again and holds it reassuringly.

“Ok, I need to get a few pictures of your hips and below, so can you lay back and put your feet up for me?” Do. Not. Panic. Liz. I lean back on the table and I start to freak out when I feel Max move out from behind me.

“Max?” He kneels beside the table, still holding my hand.

“I’m right here Liz, just like before ok?” All I can manage is a single nod. I wince when I feel the nurse’s hands pulling the gown above my waist and spreading my knees further apart. I can’t look. I feel so exposed, vulnerable. Max runs his free hand through my hair.

“You’re doing great Liz, just a few more,” Karen assures me after taking what feels like the zillionth picture.

“It’s almost over sweetie, you’re doing so good,” Max whispers near my ear. I’m so freaked out that I don’t notice when Karen switches off the examination lamp and pulls back, telling me it’s ok to get dressed.

“You did fine Liz, you can get dressed now and then I’ll bring you the pill, ok?” I nod, having no comprehension of what she said. The next thing I know, she’s gone and Max is helping me to sit up. Wordlessly, he pulls the gown down over my waist again and slides my bra onto my shoulders. He fastens it and guides my hands into the sleeves of the button down shirt, pulling it over my shoulders and buttoning it for me. He leans down and slides my underwear up my legs to above my knees, doing the same with the jeans. He then slides my shoes back on my feet. The whole time, I sit there like a passive, flexible statue; feeling numb and disoriented. His gentle voice finally snaps me out of my stupor.

“Can you pull your pants up?” As if on autopilot, I attempt to stand, wobbling slightly until he takes my forearm. By the time I get my jeans up and buttoned, Karen has returned, holding a paper cup full of water and a plastic container with a single pill in it.

“Here you go, Liz.” Even as she hands me the pill and the cup of water, my hands start to shake. Max takes the water from me before I can spill it all over myself. This is it. I made a decision and I’m too mentally and physically exhausted to reconsider it now. My brain can’t handle it. In a whirl of jumbled emotions, I take the pill, grabbing the water from Max and down it all in one giant gulp.

Oh god. I did it. I did it, it’s over. I did it. Oh god. Karen is talking to me.

“…you should know, that emergency birth control doesn’t terminate an existing pregnancy, it simply stops one from occurring…” I know that should have some sort of significance to me but I’m too far gone to comprehend it. Max has one arm wrapped around me, letting me lean on him because at this point I don’t know if I’d be able to support myself.

“…nausea, and vomiting. Make sure you have sanitary pads because you’ll bleed for a couple of days.” I hear Max say something about a detective and Karen responds but I have no idea what she said. Then Max takes my hand again and we’re walking out of the room, through the waiting area, and through the main doors, into the bright June sunshine. When we get to the car, he turns me to face him, tilting my face to meet his.

“Liz?” he says gruffly, with his hands on my shoulders. And when his eyes meet mine, I can’t do it anymore. I didn’t shed a single tear during the whole fucking exam, but now I’m here, with Max, and I’m so tired and drained and I feel sick, not sure if it’s from my emotional state or from the pill…is it already working? A wave of fatigue rolls over me and I know that I’m going to break down right here in this parking lot. Before I can hit the pavement, however, Max pulls me into his arms and I end up collapsing against him instead.

“Max…tired…home…please…” I cry as his hold on me tightens.

“Ok, ok baby….we’re going home.” He lifts me into the passenger seat and fastens my seatbelt, reclining the seat so I can almost lie down. “Try to sleep, we’ll be home soon.” The 45 minutes it takes us to get home feels more like 2 hours, but I can’t really tell since I’m drifting in and out of consciousness.


Max

I need to sleep. I’m about to collapse and I know for a fact that Liz has gotten less sleep than I have; which REALLY concerns me. It’s more than obvious that she can’t take much more of this…and it’s so far from over. It’s killing me to see her like this, and there were times this morning when I thought she was heading towards mentally unstable. I don’t think her reaction to any of this is odd, but it’s still unnerving to have to dress her while she sits there nearly catatonic. I gave the numbers of the psychologists to Mrs. Davis, I hope she does something about it…soon. I glance over at Liz, finally asleep in the passenger seat and I pray that we can get through this. Because it’s killing both of us.

I finally pull into the Davis’s driveway and it occurs to me that I haven’t been home in three days. I should probably make an appearance and get a fresh change of clothes and a shower, I’m gross. I walk around to the passenger side and lift Liz out, afraid that I’ll wake her. She whimpers in her sleep. “Shhh, Liz, we’re home.” I carry her quickly into the house.

Mrs. Davis has changed the sheets on her bed. I lay her down carefully and tuck her in, kissing her on the forehead. I don’t want to leave her alone but I have to go talk to Mrs. Davis and then go back home for a few minutes to shower and get clean clothes. I’d rather do it while she doesn’t know I’m gone.

“Max.” Holy shit, Mrs. Davis needs to work for the CIA or something. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s ok.”

“How’s Liz?” Deep breath.

“She’s…”

“Did they take the pictures?”

“Yeah, yeah, the pictures are taken, that wasn’t the hard part…”

“What happened Max?”

“She decided to take the morning after pill…”

“Oh my god.” Mrs. Davis gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

“I…probably shouldn’t have told you that, Liz will kill me.”

“Is she ok?”

“Physically, yeah; but emotionally she’s going downhill fast. I think today was just too much for her. She’s exhausted and the pill has some pretty nasty side effects that we’re going to have to deal with.”

“Like what?”

“Nausea, vomiting, bleeding…”

“Oh my poor baby.”

“She’s sleeping…I was gonna go over to my house and pick up a change of clean clothes and take a shower and then come back.”

“Ok.” I turn to go but before I can get half way down the stairs, she calls me back. Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you…would you mind staying with us for a while? I mean…I don’t want to interfere with your life but I don’t know what Liz would do without you and I don’t think I can do this by myself. And I think Liz wants you to stay.”

“It’s not interfering, Mrs. Davis.” She smiles at the habit I can’t seem to kick.

“I don’t know how long it will be, but you can have one of the the guest rooms and…”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll stay as long as she needs me.”

“But your parents must…”

“Not give a damn.” I finish for her. “Honestly, it’s fine. My mom works all the time and my dad…well, who the hell knows. And it’s not like they can keep me locked up, I’m 21.”

“True.”

“I’ll just get a few things and then take a shower over here.”

“Thanks Max.”

“No problem Mrs. Davis.”

“Suzanne!” she yells after me as I take off at a dead sprint, hoping to be back before Liz wakes up.

It’s approaching 3 in the afternoon by the time I finally make my way back to the Davis’s with a duffel bag on one shoulder and the weight of a small universe on the other. My dad was in no way, shape, or form happy about me moving out indefinitely, but his ranting and raving only served to reinforce my decision. He probably won’t remember he had the conversation anyway. Half an hour later, I’m freshly showered and shaved and I can no longer resist the urge to check on Liz. For once she appears to be sleeping peacefully, completely and utterly exhausted by the recent turn of events. I can’t stop myself from sitting on the edge of the bed just long enough to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and kiss her forehead.

“Max?”

“Hey sweetie.” Involuntarily, I reach out with my hand and stroke her cheek with my thumb. “How are you feeling?” She shrugs her shoulders and I can see almost see exactly when she throws up the mental block.

“I’m ok…you changed.”

“And showered. I’m gonna go see if your mom has made something to eat.”

“I don’t feel like eating.” Understandable.

“Will you at least drink something?”

“Yeah.” The vacant look in her eyes is scaring the hell out of me. As I go down to the kitchen to find the Gatorade, I can’t get it out of my head. I know exactly what did it but I don’t know what the hell I can do about it.

“Max?” Geezus, I wish she wouldn’t creep up on me like that! Then again, maybe I’m just a little on edge. I spin around, slamming the refrigerator door, a pint of Gatorade in one hand.

“Hi Suzanne.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m…” I consider lying to her but what’s the use? I need someone to talk to, badly. I stare at the floor. “She’s pulling away. I can tell, she has this look in her eyes, she’s putting up these mental blocks. I know why she’s doing it but I’m afraid that once she starts, she’ll never stop and then I’ll lose her.” Whoa. Where did that come from?

“Oh Max.” She jumps up from her seat at the kitchen table and the next thing I know, I’m crying on her shoulder and she’s holding me tightly, letting me slump against her. “Max, listen to me,” she says softly when I’ve calmed down significantly. “You’re not going to lose her, Max.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m her mother, Max. I know my daughter and if there’s one person in the world she’ll open herself up to, it’s you.”

“She looks so broken.”

“Because she is, honey. But don’t give up on her, she needs you now.”

“I’m not giving up on her, I just don’t know what else I can do.”

“She can’t do it forever, she’s going to break down again, we both know it. And when she does, you just be there for her like you have been. She made a decision today that will affect the rest of her life. Give her some time with it.”

“But she thinks she killed a baby, and she didn’t! The nurse told her that but I don’t think she was comprehending much at that point. I know she feels guilty about the rape and on top of that she feels guilty about a hypothetical baby!”

“If she hadn’t taken that pill, she might have had a baby; and she feels guilty about not wanting it in the first place. Sure, it’s not an abortion, but it’s action she took to prevent a baby that could have been born, and she feels guilty enough about the rape that it equates to the same thing. So she’s confused and hurting right now, that’s all.”

“I know…I know…it’s just.”

“Hard to watch, believe me, I can relate. We aren’t very religious, you know that, but guilt over the attack plus guilt over not wanting a baby in the first place, and she’s in the perfect situation to have irrational guilt for doing something she had to do. Whether or not there actually was the potential for a baby, she has herself convinced that she “killed” it because that’s how irrational she is right now. And she’s inflicting pain on herself because that’s what she thinks she deserves.” I nod, realizing that what she is saying makes perfect sense, I just had to hear her say it. “She’ll come to you Max, just give her time and let her know that you’re not going anywhere, no matter how much she thinks you should hate her.”



Liz

Every time I open my eyes, the queasy feeling in my stomach returns and I don’t think it has anything to do with the pill I took. It has everything to do with the thoughts that are flying through my head.

I killed my baby. I killed my baby. I killed my baby. I killed my baby. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault.

The tiny voice in my head that used to consider the facts is gone and all I can see is this faceless child in my head. It screams but I can’t understand what it’s saying. I turn over and try to bury myself in the blankets. The blankets smell like Max.

Max. How can he stand to look at me? I know he said he didn’t judge me, but how can you not judge someone for doing what I did? Oh god, I could lose him. I can’t lose him. I don’t want to lose him.

“Liz.” I jump. “I brought your Gatorade.” He touches my back and something in me snaps.

“Go away Max.”

“Liz…”

“I said GO AWAY.” I can almost hear his confused questions in my head but I don’t care. He doesn’t deserve this. He needs to just go away.
“Alright Liz, I’ll go but I’ll be in the guest room if you need me for anything. You know where to find me.” What? He’s leaving? Of course he’s leaving Liz, you idiot, you just screamed at him to get out! But instead of calling him back, I let him go. I am so pathetic.

TBC

A/N: Chapter 9 is told first from Max's and then from Liz's POV. I thought it was important to get both POVs without interruption.

Previously:

Liz

Every time I open my eyes, the queasy feeling in my stomach returns and I don’t think it has anything to do with the pill I took. It has everything to do with the thoughts that are flying through my head.

I killed my baby. I killed my baby. I killed my baby. I killed my baby. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault.

The tiny voice in my head that used to consider the facts is gone and all I can see is this faceless child in my head. It screams but I can’t understand what it’s saying. I turn over and try to bury myself in the blankets. The blankets smell like Max.

Max. How can he stand to look at me? I know he said he didn’t judge me, but how can you not judge someone for doing what I did? Oh god, I could lose him. I can’t lose him. I don’t want to lose him.

“Liz.” I jump. “I brought your Gatorade.” He touches my back and something in me snaps.

“Go away Max.”

“Liz…”

“I said GO AWAY.” I can almost hear his confused questions in my head but I don’t care. He doesn’t deserve this. He needs to just go away.
“Alright Liz, I’ll go but I’ll be in the guest room if you need me for anything. You know where to find me.” What? He’s leaving? Of course he’s leaving Liz, you idiot, you just screamed at him to get out! But instead of calling him back, I let him go. I am so pathetic.


Chapter 9

Max
I stand on the other side of the door and listen to her crying for nearly an hour before she apparently cries herself to sleep. Not going to her when she so obviously needs me is physically painful, but she’ll only yell at me again and deny it more. “I’m here Liz,” I whisper to the closed door, before I turn and walk downstairs.

I attempt to relax and watch some TV before hitting the sack, but my heart just isn’t in it. I end up watching half an episode of Friends on TBS, only to change the channel to FOX and watch the beginning of the same episode without realizing it. Crap. It’s only 8:00 but I’m absolutely beat. I head upstairs, praying for some much needed rest, but doubtful that I’ll get any.

My duffel bag is already in the room thanks to Mrs. Davis. I look around and notice that this is more of a guest suite than a room. There’s a modern king size bed flanked by two nightstands and a chest of drawers with a giant TV across from the bed. The bathroom is through double doors off of the main room and has a double sink, a giant glass enclosed shower stall with two heads and a seat, and a Jacuzzi. Wow. Why didn’t Liz take this room? I barely have the energy to strip down to my boxers and brush my teeth before I crash. The bed is huge and comfortable, but it feels empty and lonely. Trying not to overanalyze that particular feeling, I close my eyes and let the exhaustion take over.

11:15 pm

Awake. Awake, damnit. I woke up about fifteen minutes ago and haven’t been able to get back to sleep. I roll over, grumbling to myself and prepare to reclaim lost sleep when I hear a timid knock at the door. Thinking I imagined it, I roll over again; but there it is again, louder, more urgent. I throw back the covers and turn on the bright bedside lamp, padding across the thick carpet in my bare feet. Who needs me at 11 o’clock at ni-… Liz. Shaking; crying; eyes bloodshot, her hair flying in all directions. She’s wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt; and the front of the shirt is covered in what looks like vomit. My chest clenches when I see the look on her face. But at least she’s here. She flinches like she expects me to yell at her. Then she shuts her eyes tightly and sways on her feet, about to collapse. Her face contorts.

“Max…I-I’m sorry…I…I got sick…” she begins, but starts to sob before she can finish.

“Shhhh.” Before she has a chance to finish her self deprecating and completely misplaced apology, I lift her off of her feet and cradle her against my chest, headed towards the very convenient bathroom. I set her between the sinks and cup her face in my hands, brushing sweat dampened hair away from her forehead. She’s panting and shaking head to toe and trying to hold back crying, biting her lip so hard, I think it’s going to bleed.

1 “Shhh, it’s ok baby, it’s ok, do you still feel sick?” She shakes her head no and looks down, ashamed.

“But it could come back,” she whimpers.

“Was it the pill?”

“I…I guess so. They said it could cause vomiting so…”

“Ok, it’s ok.” I take a plastic cup from the dispenser by the sink and fill it with cold water. “Here, drink as much as you can.”

Obediently, she drinks like she’s dying of thirst and I wonder if she ever drank the Gatorade from this afternoon. Probably not. I leave her sitting there to turn the water on in the shower, and adjust the temperature. By the time I turn back around, whatever fragile control she had over herself has snapped. She sits there on the counter, sobbing silently, tears running down her cheeks. To hell with vomit. I walk back over to the sink and pull her into my arms. I expect her to protest, but she doesn’t, she only cries louder and wraps her arms around my waist, making my heart crack into a million pieces.

“Shhhh, sweetie. It’s ok now, I’ve got you. We’re ok. I’m going to help you…it’ll be ok.” I kiss her forehead, trying to reassure her. She’s burning up. I grasp the hem of the dirty t-shirt and pull it up and off, being mindful of her arm. She pushes her panties half way off and I pull them the rest of the way down, studiously ignoring certain parts of her body as I lift her into my arms again and deposit her on the bench in the shower. “I’m going to wash your hair, ok?” I say gently. She nods and closes her eyes as I fill my palms with shampoo and lather it into her hair, massaging gently and then aiming the showerhead to rinse. After repeating the process with the conditioner and making sure there are no tangles left in her hair, I soap a washcloth and gently wash her back. “Can you stand up against me?” Standing shakily, she leans almost her full body weight against me, allowing me to bathe her. She really does trust me this much. Wow. I take a deep breath and kneel down in front of her, guiding her hands to my shoulders so she can still lean against me. Here goes nothing. “Can I wash between your legs?” Her eyes fly open and her eyes meet mine, but she nods. “I won’t hurt you, Liz. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

“I know, Max.” She whispers it so softly that I almost don’t hear it over the noise of the shower. I slide the cloth between her legs. She jumps at the contact and I look at her face, but her eyes are still closed.
“Try to relax sweetie, I won’t hurt you,” I repeat softly, cleaning her gently; she doesn’t open her eyes; but she immediately relaxes. I stand up and take her back into my arms so she can lean against me. “It’s ok now,” I’m still amazed by her trust. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and buries her face in my chest, breathing deeply. When we’re both clean, I lead Liz back into the bathroom and wrap a towel around her before getting one of my own; although I won’t be dry until I find myself another pair of boxers. She just stands there, staring off into space, looking like she’s about to collapse from fatigue, but at least she’s stopped shaking. She seems to hardly notice when I lift her into my arms again and carry her to the bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. I quickly pull out a t-shirt for her and a pair of boxers for me. When I glance back at her, she’s curled in on herself, holding the towel tightly around her shoulders. She’s pale and shaking again. I approach her carefully, reaching out to run my hands up and down her arms over the towel.

“It’s ok Liz.” To my relief, she nods in acknowledgment of my existence. I slide the towel off of her shoulders and replace it with the shirt, which seems to swallow her whole. It comes down to just above her knees. “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna go into the bathroom to change. And then I’m going to go get you something to drink. You’re probably dehydrated.” Nod. Nodding is good, it means she is at least semi-aware, right? When I come out of the bathroom less than 30 seconds later, she has yet to move, although now the excess material of the t-shirt is pulled over her knees, which are up against her chest. I’m going to pretend I didn’t see her nearly jump out of her skin when I walked into the room. “I’ll be right back, ok?” I wait for her nod before I go down the hall to her bedroom, knowing that I’m going to find an unopened bottle of Gatorade on the floor. I was right. Damn it Liz. I try to calm myself down before going back into the guestroom. Yelling at her isn’t going to help. She’s right where I left her, although from the look on her face, she didn’t expect me back so soon. Then she sees what I’m carrying, and she looks away.
“Liz…have you had any liquid since breakfast…that I didn’t give you?” She cringes and barely shakes her head, still refusing to look at me. But instead of fueling my frustration, my stomach drops again, and I know that I don’t have it in me to be mad at her right now. That doesn’t mean that I’m letting her off the hook. I sit on the bed next to her and wrap one arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to me. “I’m going to watch you drink this Liz, you’re going to drink all of it. You need fluid in your body, if nothing else. I know you’re not eating. Maybe you can’t eat right now, but you need to keep yourself hydrated.” From the look on her face, she knows I mean business.

“O-ok.” She puts her arms behind her as if to pull herself further up on to the bed, and gasps, turning white and biting her lip to keep from crying out. She forgot about her arm. I reach out and catch her before she can land on her elbows, cradling her in my arms. “Damnit Max, can’t I do anything for myself?” She tries to pound on my chest but her arms are obvioiusly hurting her. Frustration and anger rolls off of her in waves. I don’t blame her. Liz is so independent, this must be hell for her. But past experience has taught me better than to argue with a stubborn, pissed off Liz, so I keep my mouth shut and settle for staring down at her. You’re not the only one who can be stubborn, Liz. She glares at me defiantly for a few seconds, then before I can blink, the angry stare becomes desperate, her eyes widen, and her chin trembles. Oh Liz. Her whole body turns towards me and she hides her face in my chest.

“I’m sorry, Max.” She whispers thickly.

“Shhhh, it’s ok Liz.” I brush my lips across her forehead and use her distraction to lift her so that her head is on a pillow. When I move away to cover her with the blankets, she panics.

“Max, don’t leave. Please.” I cup her cheek gently.

“I’m not leaving you alone. I’m right here, Liz...I’m right here. “ That seem to calm her long enough for me to pull down the sheets on the other side of the bed and climb in next to her. “Sit up and drink this, ok?” I put my arms around her and help her sit up, offering her the drink. She looks at it and then looks up at me.

“All of it?”

“All of it.” She takes one sip, and then downs the rest in about five minutes. When she finishes, she looks away. Here we go, I can see the vacant stare that means that the walls are going back up. The idea that she could pull even further in on herself freaks me out. She’s terrified, of me, of her, or of the situation in general, I can’t tell. She dares a glance in my direction for a split second. She knows that I know damn well what she’s doing. I wrap my arms around her from behind and bring her down on ot the bed with me and pull the sheets around us, spooning against her. She might be trying to rebuild those walls but I’m not going to make it easy for her.

“Max,” she moans, and I can tell from the way her body tenses that she’s trying not to cry again.

“I’m right here,” I whisper in her ear, running the fingers of my free hand through her hair and tightening my arm around her.

“Don’t leave.” She’s crying. I tighten my arms around her, choking on the lump in my throat.

“I won’t leave you,” I whisper huskily in her ear, finding that my voice won’t cooperate with me.

“ ‘m…sorry,” she hiccups.

“It’s ok, little one.”

“Is not,” she mumbles, already half asleep.

“Shhh. Go to sleep sweetie.” I pull her back further against me and wrap myself around her, knowing that she needs to feel protected. And maybe, I admit to myself, maybe I need to feel like I’m protecting her.

Liz- 11:14 pm

I can’t do this. I can’t do this alone. They were right. He was right. Nothing like sitting on the bathroom floor, covered in your own vomit, to make you realize how helpless you are. Dragging myself off of the floor and fighting back another wave of nausea, I make my way slowly towards Max’s room. I can’t do this. What if he’s angry with me? I did push him away for no good reason. But it’s dark, and I’m alone... another wave of nausea hits, making me dizzy. Dizzy and nauseated, not to mention exhausted. I think I’m going to pass out. Finally desperate enough, I knock. No answer. Oh god. I knock again, panicking. What if he really is mad at me? What am I going to do? What if he’s…gone? Dizzy, nauseated, exhausted, and panicking, and I’m shaking now too, oh great. I can feel my legs start to give out…and then he’s there, standing in the doorway, outlined in a halo of light from inside the room. Oh god. He’s here…he didn’t leave..he’s…

“Max…I-I’m sorry…I…I got sick…” I’m quickly losing my internal battle to not cry. . So much for holding it together.

“Shhhh.” And then he pulls me into his arms. Oh god. I’m so unstable, I nearly fall into him, but I’m suddenly off my feet and being carried. A feeling somewhere between relief and pure exhaustion overcomes me and I just want to cry. He sets me down on the counter in the bathroom and I can feel him scanning my body. I can’t stop shaking. He takes my face in his hands and wipes my hair back from my clammy face.
“Shhh, it’s ok baby, it’s ok, do you still feel sick?” I shake my head no, I can’t look at him.

“But it could come back,” I’m surprised at the pathetic sound of my own voice.

“Was it the pill?”

“I…I guess so. They said it could cause vomiting so…”

“Ok, it’s ok.” I watch him wearily as he fills a plastic cup with water and hands it to me. “Here, drink as much as you can. I take it from him and I don’t realize how thirsty I am until the cool water hits my tongue, I drink it all. When he turns around towards the shower, I start to lose it again. Yeah, right, like I was doing such a wonderful job holding it together in the first place. I watch him adjust the shower, trying to distract myself. He turns back around to face me and I can tell by looking at him that I look horrible. I watch through clouded vision as he crosses the room again. I feel his arms come around me and the fleeting thought occurs that I should stop him because…I’m gross; but I just don’t have the willpower. I need this too much. I need him. I’ve stopped trying to keep myself from crying. What’s the use? It just makes everything worse. So here I am, yet again, sobbing my heart out in Max’s arms. I just want this to stop. I just want it to go away.

“Shhhh, sweetie. It’s ok now, I’ve got you. We’re ok. I’m going to help you…it’ll be ok.” I feel him kiss my forehead, and the raw tenderness of the act just makes me cry harder. After an eternity, when I finally manage to get myself under control, he helps me out of the disgusting shirt. I’ve lost count of the number of times Max has seen me without any clothes on in the last three days, but for some reason it doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should. I trust him.

He lifts me and carries me over to the shower, placing me on the bench. The warm water feels so unexpectedly good. I automatically close my eyes and am only half aware when he tells me he’s going to wash my hair. With his hands gently massaging my scalp, I stop thinking. A nagging voice my head is screaming that I don’t deserve this; and I’m doing my best to ignore it, concentrating instead on the feeling of relief that overwhelmed me the minute Max took me in his arms at the door. In that instant, something in me snapped; the debilitating tension was released, and I’m terrified to feel that again. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize that he’s finished with my hair until he says,

“Can you stand up against me?” In a daze, I allow him to help me to my feet, but I slump against him, exhausted and annoyed with myself. I can’t even stand up on my own anymore? He seems to anticipate it though, because I end up leaning against his chest, putting nearly all of my weight on him. It doesn’t even faze him. He just takes a washcloth and supports me with one arm, washing my body gently with the other. His gentle, circular ministrations are so unexpected, so soothing, that I end up zoning out with my head against his shoulder. No one has ever done this for me. I shouldn’t get used to it. It won’t last. And the fact that I’m beginning to think that I can’t survive without it terrifies me. I’m brought out of my self-deprecating internal monologue when Max kneels down in front of me, moving my hands to his shoulders to support me. He looks up at me imploringly. What is he doing?

“Can I wash between your legs?” What? I’m sure my eyes are bugging out of my head. I panic momentarily…but then I look at him. He’s kneeling on the shower floor in soaking wet boxers, looking up at me with a tender expression on his face. His short hair is wet and spiked up everywhere. His hands gently support me around the waist, they almost go completely around me. This is Max. He has done nothing but take care of me since the whole damn thing started. He’s been gentle, patient, understanding; he knows what I need without me having to tell him. I nod slowly, I trust him. I close my eyes.

“I won’t hurt you Liz. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

“I know Max.” He slides the cloth between my thighs with the gentlest touch I have ever felt, but I still stiffen involuntarily.

“Try to relax, sweetie, I won’t hurt you,” he repeats. I rein my panic in and breathe deeply. His voice reminds me exactly who is kneeling at my feet, being so gentle and careful with me. This is Max. This is Max. This is Max. I’m ok. He stands again, taking me in his arms. I’m naked, but I’m beyond caring. I slump against him. He’s warm and I feel safe…and I’m so completely exhausted.

“It’s ok now,” he says huskily; holding my head under his chin as I lift my arms up as far as they will go to wrap around him. How did I ever think I could do this without him? The thought is so overpowering that it renders me physically weaker than I was when I came to him. I don’t even notice when he cuts the water off and leads me out of the stall, wrapping a towel around my shoulders. I stand there and stare at my skinny, pale form in the mirror. Then Max lifts me into his arms yet again, which is good because my legs feel like Jell-O. He carries me into the bedroom and places me on the bed, then he reaches into his duffel bag to pull out a shirt and another pair of boxers. When he turns around and looks at me with that sympathetic look on his face, I realize that, oh great, I’m shaking like a leaf…again.

“It’s ok, Liz,” he says softly, running his hands up and down my arms over the towel in an effort to stop the shivering. I nod slowly. My first coordinated movement in over five minutes! He looks relieved to see me physically acknowledge him. The shirt he helps me put on is about ten sizes too big, it looks like a dress on me. But it smells like Max. “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna go into the bathroom to change. And then I’m going to go get you something to drink. You’re probably dehydrated.” Chill out Liz, he’s going into the bathroom to change for chrissakes. I’m safe. He’s less than ten feet away from me, I’m safe. I force myself to nod. He closes the door behind him.

Silence.

Even the bright bedside lamp is not enough to fully illuminate this huge room and shadows dance across the walls, freaking me out. The clock on the nightstand says 11:45. The numbers are glowing red and eerie. Feeling about five years old, I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap myself in Max’s shirt, hoping that the scent of him will keep me from going postal. Liz. Get. A. Grip. No such luck, the door opens and I jump a mile, hoping Max doesn’t notice. “I’ll be right back, ok?” I know he’s just going downstairs, and I have to admit that I’m thirsty. That doesn’t stop the panic from surfacing. He reappears a lot sooner than I expected, holding the unopened bottle of Gatorade from earlier tonight. He appears slightly pissed. Shit.

“Liz…” he sighs. “Have you had anything to drink since breakfast…that I didn’t give you?” I shake my head, not looking at him. I expect him to go into a rant about how I’m supposed to be taking better care of myself. But he only comes over to the bed, sits next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders, leaning over to place a kiss on my temple. What is he doing? “I’m going to watch you drink this Liz, you’re going to drink all of it. You need fluid in your body, if nothing else. I know you’re not eating. Maybe you can’t eat right now, but you need to keep yourself hydrated.” I cringe internally, the dead serious tone in his voice and the well meaning guilt trip doing more than a one sided rant ever could, and he knows it.

“O-ok.” I need to lie down. I put my arms behind me to scoot myself up from the side of the bed. Bad idea. Pain shoots through my arm and I can’t help the screaming bloody murder. But before I can do further damage to my poor arm by landing on my elbow and possibly jolting it out of joint again, Max catches me. He slides his arms underneath me, looking down into my face. “Damnit Max, can’t I do anything for myself?” He looks so intense and serious. And he doesn’t have to answer me. We both know that I’m not yelling at him. Sometimes I think I have rocks for brains. Max has done nothing but keep me safe and let me cry on his shoulder for the past three days. Why am I yelling at him? I’m so ashamed of myself. Not wanting him to see me cry, I hide my face in his chest. God, I’m such a moron sometimes. “I’m sorry Max.” I feel him brush his lips against my damp hair and I almost lose what little control I have left.

“Shhh...it’s ok Liz.” He lifts me off the bed and moves me, cradling my head in his hand and guiding it onto the pillow. Oh god, what if he leaves me here? I don’t want to be alone in this giant bed, in this giant house, in the dark. He moves away, only to pull the blankets up around me and I panic.

“Max, don’t leave. Please.” God, could I sound any more desperate?

“I’m not leaving you alone. I’m right here, Liz...I’m right here.” He cups my cheek in his hand, reassuring me. I try not to panic again when he moves to the other side of the bed. He’s pulling sheets down on the other side of the bed, less than a foot away from me. He’s still on the bed and I’m having separation anxiety issues. Pathetic. He climbs into bed next to me. “Sit up and drink this, ok?” But it isn’t a question. He puts his arm around my shoulders.

“All of it?”

“All of it.” Right, ok...hope I don’t throw this up too. Hesitantly, I take a sip. The cool liquid hits the back of my throat and suddenly my thirst mechanism kicks in and I can’t drink fast enough. Damn Max for being right. Again. It takes me less than five minutes to drink the whole thing.

I wish I could fight him. I wish he didn’t know me better than I know myself. I wish I didn’t need him. The thoughts fly around in my head and I can feel myself starting to freak out in a very familiar, dreaded way. I glance up at Max for an instant and I know even before I do it that it’s a mistake. The look he gives me is unmistakeable. He’s not an idiot. He knows what I’m doing and he’s not going to let me get away with it. ‘Of course not!’, the (small) rational part of my brain screams at me. It’s Max. My stomach feels like I swallowed a boulder and my arms and legs go rigid.

But then I feel a solid, warm body press up against my back and he pulls me gently down on to the bed. An arm tightens around me protectively, and his warm breath hits my ear and the back of my neck.

“Max.” Relief floods my body like a drug.

“I’m right here.” I can feel his fingers running through my hair and I crumble completely. Dignity is overrated.

“Don’t leave.” Oh great, I’m crying…again. His arms tighten around me.

“I won’t leave you,” he rasps against my ear. I’m so tired.

“’m…sorry.” *I’m sorry for treating you like shit today and yelling at you. I’m sorry for barging in on you in the middle of the night. I’m sorry you can’t have a life because of me. I’m sorry I’m such a mental patient. I’m sorry about the baby.*

“It’s ok little one.”

“Is not.” I manage weakly before my voice gives out on me, Max’s words doing more to convince me that it actually IS ok, than I want to admit.

“Shhhh. Go to sleep sweetie.” His fingers continue to run
through my hair as he pulls me back further into his chest. I want to fight him. I’m not this helpless weakling of a girl who needs someone to take care of her all the time. This isn’t me. But I’m so tired.

Max

She’s sleeping. Finally. Me on the other hand, I’ve been awake for hours. I can’t stop watching her. I was on autopilot before; Operation: Take Care of Liz (not that I would ever tell HER that). But now, as she’s curled up against my side, clean, warm, asleep, and not throwing up all over herself, I start to really think about it and I don’t like my train of thought. I’m not an idiot. I know she was berating herself in her head for being “weak”. I could see it on her face. I know she hates being taken care of. She was desperate and afraid. And she came to me. But was it enough? I wish she would calm down for two seconds so I could re-explain what they explained to her at the hospital. She didn’t kill her baby. And if there is any higher power up there, she isn’t already pregnant. I think that part of the reason I don’t want to go to sleep is that I’m afraid I’ll wake up and she won’t be here. She’ll wake up, realize that she made herself vulnerable, and shut down, feeling even more ashamed of herself. I’m afraid she won’t listen. I wrap my arms tighter around her. If she wants out of this room, she’s gonna have to get through me.

TBC

Thanks for your patience guys! Computer access has been an issue since I left school, but I'll be back in a week and hopefully more frequent updates will follow...enjoy!

Chapter 10

Liz

The dim blue light of pre-dawn filters through the curtains. I don’t want to open my eyes. This feels too good. Warm. Soft. Safe. What if I open my eyes and it’s a dream? Then again, I haven’t had dreams like this lately. Still tired. Don’t want to move. Then my stomach flips and a wave of nausea runs through me. No. Not again. Wearily, I open my eyes and realize that Max’s arms are tightly around me. And if I don’t move right now, I’m going to throw up all over him. I break his hold on me and roll to the side of the bed. My head spins, not used to being vertical.

Miserably, I make it to the bathroom and lean over the toilet, praying for this to be over. And like clockwork, I feel Max behind me; holding my hair back, wiping my forehead with a wet wascloth, and rubbing my back. I must have woken him up. This is deja vu. I just want it to be over. Numbly, I sit back, leaning against the wall by the toilet and I watch as Max silently flushes the toilet and hands me a cup of water.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” He sighs and crouches down level with me. His gaze is so intense that I want to look away as he reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“Well, if we’re apologizing for things that we have no control over, then I’m sorry that you have to go through this. I’m sorry that you feel so sick. I’m sorry that I can’t do more to help you and I’m sorry that you think that you have to apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”

“Max, I...”

“You’re not apologizing to me, are you?” He smiles slightly although the tone of his voice is serious. I look down at my hands. “No more apologies, Liz, ok?”

“Ok.” He offers me his hand and I stand up shakily, leaning on him, but I manage to make it back to the bed. I start to lie down and he puts his hand on the nape of my neck to support me and eases me back on the bed, as if he does it every day. “Max...” He tucks himself in next to me and I watch him suspiciously.

“Shhh, can I ask you a question?”

“O...k?”

“How much do you remember about yesterday?” He pulls me closer into him and I have to look at his face. I can’t read it and I don’t know what that means.

“What are you talking about, Max?”

“I want to make sure you understand something.”

“Max, please...” I can’t do this.

“Listen to me Liz, it’s ok.”

“Max...”

“Liz, I want you to listen to me. Ok? Trust me, it’s nothing bad.” I nod, not sure if I’m capable of much else. I’m shaking on the inside. He runs his hand up and down my arm. “Liz, the morning after pill doesn’t terminate an existing pregnancy, it just prevents one from happening, like regular birth control.” Ok, I’m lost.

“So?”

“So, you didn’t have an abortion, Liz. I know you think you ‘killed your baby’ but you didn’t. Do you understand?”

“So...I could still be pregnant?” Oh god.

“Technically, yes, I guess so. But you took the pill soon enough that you shouldn’t be. We’ll still go back to the hospital on Tuesday for a pregnancy test. But you did not kill your baby, understand?” Oh god. I guess that’s what Karen was trying to explain while I was busy having a nervous breakdown.

“I didn’t?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Oh god.” He pulls me closer to him, letting me bury my head in his shoulder, knowing that I’m on the verge of tears again. I’m so sick of crying. How much more of it can I do? I’m surprised that I have water left in my body.

“It’s ok, baby. It’s ok now.” He rubs my back, soothing me back to sleep.

I’m hopeless.


Max

Whether she’s crying from sadness or relief, I can’t tell. Maybe both. In any case, she’s holding on to me for dear life and I don’t think I could let her go if I wanted to. I hope she goes to sleep. Emotional stress can be just as exhausting as physical stress and she’s got both. After another eternity, I’m thankful that I’m not wearing a shirt because it would be completely soaked by now. Nearly an hour goes by before she passes out. I don’t have the heart to leave her here and I think that if I did, she would probably wake up and freak out. So I slide down further on the bed, close my eyes and pray that this time, we’ll both get some kind of sleep.


Suzanne

I haven’t seen Liz or Max since last night. I thought I heard noises coming from the room a little before midnight, but knowing Max was there and Liz probably wouldn’t appreciate me there anyway, I stayed away. It hurts me more than you can imagine to stay away when my daughter is so obviously suffering, but if that is what makes her feel better about the whole thing, then Max is right, we have to give her some control over the situation. No matter how much it kills me to do it. The ringing of the phone shakes me out of my thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Davis?”

“Speaking.”

“Hello again, this is Det. Jeffery Thomas with the DC police.”

“Oh, hello.” Uh oh, here we go again.

“How is Liz doing today?”

“She went to have the official photographs taken yesterday but a few other things happened that threw her a little off balance, so she’s still recuperating. Can I help you with anything? Liz is still asleep.”

“No, nothing really. Mr. O’Reilly told lthe Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner that they would return in a few days to give their statements, but that is not why I’m calling. I’m calling to inform you that the persons accused of Liz’s assault have been taken into custody.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“There will be a hearing when the evidence has been processed and all of the official statements are collected, but given the physical evidence that we have collected so far, this appears to be a fairly simple case and they are expected to plead guilty.” Buried rage suddenly boils up inside of me at that thought. EXPECTED TO? HA! But instead, I speak to the detective in a deceptively calm voice.

“I should hope so.”

“Liz does not have to see them at all if she is not comfortable with that. But on the given timeline, the hearing will take place in about two weeks.”

“I will have to talk to Liz about that but given the current state of things, I would guess that she is not comfortable with seeing them.”

“I will speak with her about it when I meet with her to give the statements.”


“Thank you, Det. Thomas.”

“You’re very welcome Mrs. Davis and give my best to Liz.”

“Thank you sir.”

I don’t know what Liz will do when I tell her the news. Will she be happy? Freaked out? Will she completely break down? Ugh. Too many thoughts, too early in the morning. I’m going back to bed.

Liz

I open my eyes and this time there is bright sunlight streaming through the half open curtains. Max sleeps soundly beside me. I take this moment of silence to stare at the ceiling and contemplate my existence. How deep. No, really...how did I get here? What am I going to do next? How did it happen that the worst experience of my life has made me actually thankful for the amazing man sleeping next to me. More amazing than he realizes. More amazing than I ever realized until now. And some horrible, masochistic part of me still can’t believe it. And the thought of losing him scares me so much that just contemplating it brings tears to my eyes. Damn it. No crying, not anymore.

“Why are you crying, sweetie?” I was staring at his face so intently that I didn’t even notice that he was awake.

“No reason,” I sniffle, knowing even as the words leave my mouth that they are a load of shit.

“Liar.”

“Max, you’re too nice to me You’ve done so much for me and I’ve done nothing for you. One day you’re going to realize that, and then I’ll lose you.” Wow, I didn’t mean to blurt that out. He’s hovering above me on his forearms and he lowers himself to the bed so that he can cup my face in his palms.

“You’re not going to lose me, Liz. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere. You know that.” I do know that.

“But...”

“No. Liz, I swear to you. I’m staying right here and whatever we have to do to get you better, we’re going to do it. And I’m not just going to disappear after that either. And for the record, you’re a good friend to me. You let me crash here when my dad goes beserk. You and your mom are more my family to me than my own parents. You need to get better, and when you are, I’m sure you’ll return the favor at some point, right?” How do you argue with that? He turns again and maneuvers me so that I’m resting my head on his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. “Go back to sleep sweetie, it’s still early.” Unable to argue with the way he cradles me protectively, I close my eyes.

Max

I don’t know how long I’m going to be reassuring her that I’m not going anywhere, but I’ll do it for however long it takes for her to get the concept. Wearily, I close my eyes, fighting off the beginning of a headache. And I don’t even jump when I hear Mrs. Davis come in to the room.

“Max.”

“Yeah?” I half open my eyes to look at her.

“They got them.”

“They did?” Those three words are enough to make me wide awake again.

“Yeah, the trial will be in about two weeks, after you and Liz have given your statements.”

“Wow.” I glance down at Liz, sleeping peacefully for once.

“Is she ok?” She glances down at Liz and I realize for the first time that we are not in Liz’s room. Great, this must look weird.

“Sort of. The pill they gave her yesterday made her sick so...”

“Oh my god.”

“She’s ok now.”

“She came to you?”

“Yeah...yeah she did.” Believe me, the significance was not lost on me.

“We have to tell her.”

“Not now, let her sleep.”

“Can I get you anything, breakfast or something?”

“No, I’ll wait until Liz wakes up.” The high school graduation photographs of Brett and Allan are flashing through my mind. Bastards. They deserved to die slowly, painfully. Perhaps by castration...

“Max.”

“Oh...what?”

“It’s going to be ok, Max. They aren’t getting away with this.” She leans down to hug me.

“I know...I’m just...”

“Picturing their mangled bodies in your head?” I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I know, me too.”

“Relax ok? Don’t worry about it. Just be here for Liz. She’s going to need you when, well...when shit starts to hit the fan... If you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.” I reflexively pull her closer, already contemplating the least stressful way to break the news to her. Ok, so “not stressful” is not an option right now.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” She closes the door behind her. I hope that today goes better than yesterday did.


Liz
Around noon, I finally pry my eyes open without the accompanying hit-by-an-eighteen-wheeler-feeling. Max is not here. Fighting the urge to panic, I notice the bathroom light is on and I breathe a sigh of relief. Not five minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom, freshly shaved and dressed.

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“I feel better, I guess I really needed to sleep.”

“Yeah.” I start to think back to the night before, exactly what happened...what I said, what I didn’t say...all the things I meant to say.

“Max, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in here like that last night. You didn’t have to do that. I should learn to take care of myself. I told you to get the hell out and then I just...”

“No, no more apologies, remember?” He comes over to the bed, putting his arms on either side of my body so that I have to look up at him.
“But...”

“Liz...” He cups my cheek. “I’m glad you came to me last night. It killed me to leave you alone.”

“I didn’t really want you to leave...” You have no idea how much I wanted you to stay.

A strand of hair has fallen in front of my face and he reaches out to tuck it behind my ear.

“Why did you tell me to leave, Liz?” He asks gently. It’s not an accusation, just a very good question. And it’s probably one of those ones that he already knows the answer to. Grrrr.

“I don’t know...I guess I was just so confused, and I thought you would eventually hate me because of what I did and I couldn’t handle that.” Whoa, where did that come from?

“Liz, I don’t know what I’m going to have to do to convince you of this. It might just take time for you to get it, but I don’t hate you. I will never hate you. And you made the decision you had to make. I told you I was with you no matter what you decided.”

“I can’t believe I thought I had killed my baby. Pretty stupid, huh? If I had just listened to...”

“Sweetie, the nurse should have told you that before the exam even started. Seriously, you weren’t in any frame of mind to listen to her. Hell, I’m lucky that I understood what she said.” Now he’s making too much sense for me. The room falls silent for a long time. Just as I’m starting to get uncomfortable...”Liz, the detective from the police department called this morning.” All of the muscles in my body go rigid before he finishes with...”they got them.”

“Oh god.” He pries one of my hands out of its white knuckled grip on the sheets. “What do we do now Max?”

“We don’t have to do anything right now. There was so much physical evidence that you don’t have to identify them or even see them again if you don’t want to. We still have go down to the police station in a couple of days to give the official statements, and the trial is in two weeks.”

“Do I have to go?”

“No, no you don’t.” He pulls me into his arms. “Unless you want to.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to decide right now. Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know, I might throw up again if I eat.”

“You have to eat something at some point. The side effects will pass.”
“I know.”

“Come on, I bet your mom will fix you toast and tea, or something equally bland and stomach-able.”

“Ok.” He helps me out of bed and I follow him out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen, only half aware of my strangle hold on his hand and the fact that I’m wearing nothing but a giant t-shirt.


Suzanne
I couldn’t sleep after the detective called this morning, so I’ve been cooking everything remotely considered breakfast food in the house. When Max and Liz come into the kitchen, I notice immediately that although she still looks tired, she looks a lot better than she has in the past couple of days. The second thing I notice is that she’s wearing a t-shirt that obviously doesn’t belong to her...and not much else. Max shoots me a meaningful glance and I know that something other than what he told me happened last night. But I’m so happy that Liz seems to look better, that I don’t really care what happened as long as she looks like that.

“Good morning guys, can I get you any breakfast?”

“Wow, Mom, you cooked. What’s the occasion?” Ha. She’s funny.

“I woke up and had nothing better to do. What do you want? There’s pancakes, waffles, bacon, fruit salad, scrambled eggs and toast.”

“I’m starving, I’ll have a little of each.”

“I’ll have some...uh...toast,” Liz says hesitantly. Poor thing.
When we are all seated at the breakfast table and enjoying (or picking at) our food, I decide that I can’t stand it anymore and I broach the subject.

“Liz, did Max tell you that I got a call from the police department this morning?” She drops the toast she was nibbling at and I immediately feel guilty for bringing it up.

“Yeah Mom, he told me.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?

“No Mom, I haven’t thought that far ahead, ok?” She’s glaring at me. Max shoots me an imploring glance and I shut my mouth, trying to remove my foot in the process. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just want to eat what little I can hold down of my breakfast in peace.”

“Hold down?”

“Shit.”

“Liz, what happened?”

“Mom, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Liz...”

“Mom, I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Silence. Max rubs her back and I expect her to shrug him off but she seems to relax against him, and some of the aggression goes out of her.
“I’m sorry...it was a long night.”

“I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to push you, I just want to know that you’re ok.”

“I’m...ok. I just need some time to sort this all out in my head.”

“If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

“Thanks Mom.” She smiles apologetically as we finish our breakfast in relatively amicable silence. I can’t help wondering what Max is thinking. He sits there soothing Liz quietly while letting us go at it. As Max and I get up to clear the table, Liz suddenly jumps out of her seat and runs toward the bathroom. A second later, there’s a flurry of activity and then an umistakable sob. What the hell?

“Liz, honey, are you ok?” I’m at the bathroom door and Max is right behind me.

“Yeah, I’m ok...I’m...” Silence.

“Liz, talk to me.” Max says from behind me. His eyes are flashing with concern but he looks calm, as if he’s done this before. Oh god, he HAS done this before.

“Can you send Mom in for a second?” She’s crying. I hear the bathroom door unlock and Max shrugs his shoulders at me, motioning for me to go ahead. I slip through the door, closing it behind me and the sight of Liz breaks my heart. She’s sitting, hunched over on the toilet, her underwwear between her legs. There’s blood in her underwear and streaked down her legs and her shoulders are shaking as she cries.

“Oh honey.” I soak a washcloth with warm water and hand it to her. “Here, wipe yourself off, I’m gong to get you some clean underwear, ok? I’ll be right back.”

“O-ok. Wh-where’s Max?”

“He’s right outside, probably pacing like a caged tiger. Do you want him to come in?”

“No...yeah...I don’t know.”

“I know more about what’s been going on the last few days than you might think.” Her head jerks up to look at me and I have to smile. “Hey, you’re not a kid anymore, and y’know what? He takes good care of you. I’d be a bad mother if I told him to take a hike.” She nods, looking down at the floor again.

“O...ok.”

“I’ll be right back.” I watch her as she moves from the toilet to the edge of the bathtub and throws her underwear in the corner. “It’s gonna be ok, Liz, I promise.” She won’t look at me. When I walk out of the bathroom, I almost have a head on collision with Max, who spins around as soon as he hears the door open. “Bleeding,” I mouth to him silently. “She wants you.” His eyes widen in understanding and he nods, moving past me to the door.


Max
Even before Suzanne came out of the bathroom, it wasn’t exactly difficult to figure out what had happened. I was expecting it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not standing here trying to figure out what to do next. I wait until Suzanne has gone upstairs.

“Liz, are you ok?” I yell through the door.

“Yeah.” The hell she is.

“Do you want me to come in?”

“O...ok.” Not needing a second invitation, I open the door slowly. My heart seizes in my chest at the sight of her. She’s perched on the side of the bathtub, elbows resting on thighs and head between her knees. There’s blood on her inner thighs and calves. “Don’t say anything,” she bites out. I press my lips together and shut the door behind me. I lean against the sink and watch her. She hasn’t looked at me yet. We sit that way for a very long time before I can’t stand it anymore and break the tense silence.

“Liz...”

“What Max?” She snaps. She picks up a soaked and slightly bloody washcloth off of the floor and half-heartedly starts to scrub at the dried blood on her legs. When the blood doesn’t come off immediately, she drops the cloth in frustration, still staring at the ground. Afraid she’ll snap if I make any sudden movements, I lean down and pick it up. I throw it into the sink and get another one from the cabinet. Using very warm, almost hot water, I soak the clean cloth and kneel down in front of her.
“Do you want to do this, or do you want me to?”


Liz
Huh? I wasn’t expecting that. And part of me wishes he would just take over so I can stop thinking about this. Wait...what am I saying? This isn’t me. I don’t need him to do everything for me. But I tried, and I just couldn’t, and seeing all that blood made me suddenly ill. I can’t look at him, this is too embarrassing.

“Liz, I need you to talk to me,” he says, in such a tender voice that I can’t stop myself from responding.

“I can’t do it, not right now.” Nodding in understanding, he slides his hand up my left leg, separating them and gently scrubbing the dried blood off. It goes away so easily. I wonder why the hell I couldn’t do that myself. As his hand moves higher on my thigh, I jump a little and he stops, looking into my eyes and asking permission. I instantly relax, but not without cursing myself. Why can’t I let him touch me? This is Max, I know he would never hurt me. Why does he have to walk on eggshells around me? I hope he knows I don’t think he would ever hurt me.

“Liz, sweetie, look at me.” He moves to the other leg. He’s being so gentle, I almost don’t feel it.

“No.” His hand moves slowly up and down my leg.

“I won't hurt you." Is he a mind reader?

“I know that Max.” But I still can’t look at him.

“Why are you crying?”

Damn.

“I’m not crying.” Oh yeah, that was convincing, especially when my voice cracked.

“You’re really bad at bullshit, you know that?” He says quietly, downplaying the harshness of the actual words.

“Yeah.” Damn again.

“So stop bullshitting and tell me the truth.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” He has to know that. The blood is completely gone.

“Liz, I know that.” He closes my legs and tries to make me look at him.

“No, I’m sorry that you think you can’t touch me. I’m sorry that I jump out of my skin every time you do. I know you would never hurt me, ever. It’s just...” I can’t take it anymore and I pitch forward against his shoulder and he pulls me into his arms, dropping the cloth and holding me against him tightly.

“Liz, do you know how close you’ve let me already? It would be perfectly understandable if you didn’t want to be touched at all after all of this. But you let me close to you and you have no idea how much that means to me. I just want to make sure that you’re ok with it.” He tries to pull away, but I wrap my arms around his neck.

‘’Don’t go.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, and what did you promise me about no more apologies?”

“I know, I just...”

“Sh. Stop.”

The knock at the door makes us both jump.

“Max, Liz?” Mom cracks the door open and sees the two of us tangled together in a heap on the bathroom floor. “I have clean underwear for you Liz.” She lays the underwear and a sanitary pad out on the counter for me. I nod tearily and pull away from Max.

“Thanks Mom.” Max gets to his feet and pulls me up with him.

“I’ll leave you alone to change, ok?” I nod, but find myself still clinging to him.

“Don’t go.” He runs his hands up and down my arms.

“I’ll be right outside the door.”

“Ok.”


Max
And here I am, staring at the wall again. She can’t continue like this. She can’t lay in bed all day thinking about what happened to her and wishing it away. I know it’s only been four days but she needs to start living again, or at least doing something to distract herself. It’s only June, school doesn’t start until late August, so we have some time.

It seems like forever until she finally comes out of the bathroom. She’s cleaned up a bit and she doesn’t look like she’s about to break down anymore, but she still reaches out to grab my hand.

“It’s gonna be ok Liz.” She nods, and then looks thoughtful for a moment.

“Max, could we watch a movie? Like we used to? I don’t want to lay in bed anymore. I want to watch “Lady and the Tramp.” She thinks I’m gonna say no? Ha. I can’t help grinning like an idiot.

“Sure...go put some clothes on, I’ll set it up.” She gives me a 200 watt grin and goes as fast as she can toward the stairs. I head to the basement to set up the DVD. I haven’t seen her smile like that in so long. It’s...encouraging.


Liz
I’m not going to be an invalid for the rest of my life. Max has done so much for me and I can’t ever repay him, but maybe I can get back to normal. Maybe. As I was finishing up in the bathroom it occurred to me that I’ve been in bed for the better part of four days. Shit. If I keep that up, Max really will have to carry me everywhere. I change into a pair of comfortable shorts and a t-shirt and run a brush through my hair for the first time in days. It’s tangled and matted so badly that I wonder if I’m going to have to cut chunks out of it. Trust Max to think of everything but combing my hair. What seems like hours later, I make my way down to the basement where I find Max, with a fist full of buttery popcorn in one hand and a root beer in the other. He’s so cute.

“Pig.”

“What took you so long?” He grins and takes another fist full of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth.

“Max, it’s like 2 in the afternoon. You cannot eat popcorn at 2 in the afternoon.”

“Why not? And you cannot not eat popcorn at a movie. Now, turn the lights off and get over here. I brought you a root beer.” How can I say no to that? Mmmm. Root beer. Better than the alcoholic kind. Obligingly, I curl up on one side of the couch while he hits play on the DVD remote and places the ginormous bowl of popcorn between us. I take a generous handful of the popcorn and sigh in bliss as the buttery goodness explodes in my mouth. What was I saying about popcorn? Screw it. Max is right.

Did you ever realize that there’s snow in the very first scene of the movie? It’s when the camera slowly pans in on the house from down the street and when you’re five years old and watching it, it seems to go on forever. And in any case, it’s like 60 degrees in the basement and dark, and I’m freezing, or maybe it’s the snow...

“You cold?”

“A little.”

“Come here.” He pats the empty space next to him and pulls a blanket down from where it’s draped over the back of the couch. He quickly wraps it around the two of us, pulling me in close to him and I rest my head on his chest. “Better?”

“Yeah.” He starts playing with my hair and I have to wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it. Little Lady is trying to get out of the room where John Dear and Darling have left her for the night. “Max?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think Darling’s real name is?”

“Elizabeth.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“Given that a little thought have we?”

“Think about it, it makes sense. Elizabeth was a very popular name back then.”

“And now it’s an old lady’s name?” I’m trying to be indignant but it doesn’t work when he’s grinning at me like the Cheshire Cat.

“I don’t think so.”

“Bu...” He pecks me on the cheek, momentarily shocking me out of what I was going to say.

“Watch the movie Liz, you don’t want to miss the beaver.”

“The beaver doesn’t show up for another half an hour.”

“You have to sing “We Are Siamese” with me though.”

“I do not.”

Max

“We are siame-ese if you plea-ese. We are siame-ese if you don’t please. Now we loo-king o-ver our new domicile. If we like we stay for may-be quite a-while.”

“Do you seeing that thing svimming, rrround and rrround?

“Yesss.”

“Maybe vee could reeeach eet een and make eet drrrrown.” She giggles when my breath tickles her ear. Yeah, right... Miss I’m-Not-Singing has just sung the entire song twice. We even backtracked on the DVD. Yes, we’re six.

“Eef we sneaking up up-on eet car-fully,”

“There vill be a head for you, a tail for me.”

“If vee look in baby buggy there vill be”

“Plenty milk farr you- and awl-so some farr me.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to sing.”

“I lied.” She giggles again and the sound is music to my ears. She falls back against my chest, fitting her head underneath my chin and I can still feel her smiling. “It’s the beaver!” The snaggle toothed beaver is now imparting his whistling words of wisdom about muzzles to Lady and the Tramp. “It’s so cool how he whistles through his teeth like that.”

“You’re weird.”

“Yeah, well, so are you.”

“Only you would think that what some people consider a thspeech impediment is cool.” She glares at me momentarily.

“I guess I wouldn’t like it if I had to deal with it all the time.”

“Probably not.”

“But he doesn’t seem to mind it.”

“He’s a talking beaver. And you wouldn’t mind a speech impediment either if you could saw through logs with your teeth.”

“That WOULD be cool...but why the hell would I need to saw through logs with my teeth?”

“You never know. Might come in handy in an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?”

“Maybe you’re about to freeze to death and you need to chop firewood but you left your axe at home.”

“Oh, of course. But then how would I light the fire?”

“You ask too many questions, Liz.”

“And I have a few more, like when did you first begin to consider the intricacies of life as a beaver?”


Liz
I hate this part of the movie. I always cry, even though I know the ending.

“Don’t cry Liz.” Max is trying to humor me, but I can hear him holding back his laughter.

“But...Trusty...”

“Is going to be fine. How many times have you seen this movie?”

“I know, but it’s so sad.”

“But Trusty only ends up with a broken leg and the next thing you know, the whole family is hanging out at Christmas and Lady and the Tramp have had puppies. See?” He’s not even trying to hide his amusement now. And I look up and sure enough, he’s kept me distracted long enough to miss the depressing scene. Trusty is limping in through the front door and Darling is trying to keep the baby out of trouble. Lady and the Tramp’s kids are running a muck. Interesting how the boy dogs all look like Tramp and all the girl dogs look like Lady. Guess Disney’s never heard of a mutt.

“Max, do you think I’ll ever have puppies?” He regards me seriously from where my head rests on his chest.

“Yeah, you will Liz.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you, I know you love puppies. And you’ll be a great mother.”

“Really?”

“Yep, they’ll be cute and furry with their mother’s brown eyes.”

“Furry?”

“How could they not be? Look how much hair you have!” He runs his fingers affectionately through my hair. I know for a fact that he loves it.

“You love my hair.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I like yours too, all short and spiky.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it feels cool when you touch it, like a porcupine who’s not angry.” I can’t resist running my fingers through it so it spikes up even more.

“Did you just compare me to a porcupine?”

“You compared me to a Cocker Spaniel.”

“Touche.”


Max
By the end of the movie, (a whole ten minutes later), Liz is asleep on my shoulder. She must be really tired. And the past two nights haven’t done anything to alleviate that. The first night, I found her in the bathtub, and the second night, she got sick. Not to mention the nightmares the night before that. She looks so peaceful that I don’t want to move her. But it is kinda cold down here and I’m not gonna leave her down here by herself. Very, very slowly, I slide out from underneath her, expecting her to startle out of sleep but she doesn’t. Insteead, she falls limply into my arms when I pick her up and her head falls naturally against my shoulder. Her breathing remains deep and even. I’m unprepared for the wave of protectiveness that runs through me. Liz would not be happy if she was aware of what she calls my “caveman tendencies” kicking in.

I carry her to her room and lay her gently on the bed, tucking her in. She hasn’t even moved a muscle. She looks so tiny in the giant bed and I don’t want to leave her alone. So I curl up next to her on the bed and pull the covers up over both of us. She moves closer to me and buries her face in my chest. I pull her closer and my lips brush against her forehead automatically. I don’t know what I would do without this girl.

TBC