The next day, Brian approached Victor with a question.
"How would I go about looking up background information on someone?"
"There's a database some lawyers use, but you can't use it."
"Why not?"
Victor looked up at Brian. "Because you're not a lawyer yet, son."
"Could you do it for me?"
"I could, but I couldn't say when. I'm really swamped right now."
Brian sighed. Victor looked at him again.
"Who did you want to look up?"
"Ray."
"Why?"
Brian teetered on telling Victor what happened, then decided against it.
"For my own information."

Meanwhile at the house, James was just about having a fit.
"How did you get that?" he asked, taking her chin and tilting her head this way and that.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." Rose backed away from him and busied herself with coffee. "Don't worry about it."
"Brian didn't-"
"Oh, please, James. Do you really think he'd do something like that?"
"You tell me."
"Well, he didn't." Rose handed James his coffee and headed into the livingroom. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd just drop it."
"Okay, fine. But if it happens again, I'm making you tell me."
"Fine," Rose murmured, opening the paper. James sighed.
"Gimme the sports section."
Smiling slightly, Rose handed it to him.

Two nights later, Rose came into Brian's office.
"Who was that on the phone?" he asked.
"Charlotte."
Brian looked up sharply. "What did she want?"
"She invited us to dinner on Saturday, and I told her... I told her yes."
"Why?" Brian exclaimed.
"Because she's my friend."
"Yeah, and her husband raped you when you were fourteen and tried to do it again just three nights ago. Or have you forgotten?"
"Brian, I'm not going to punish Charlotte because she married a psycho. And besides, he won't do anything, if both you and Charlotte are there."
Brian stood up and walked around the desk to Rose.
"Sweetheart, I don't want you to get hurt again," he said softly, taking her face in his hands and lightly stroking her cheek with his thumb.
"I know you don't. Just go this weekend, and then I will never go over there again."
"Okay." Brian kissed her. "I love you."
"I love you, too."

Saturday night rolled around faster than he would've liked, and Brian was reluctantly getting ready to go. He didn't want to go, but he also didn't want Rose in the house alone with Ray, even if Charlotte was there.
Rose came into the bedroom just as Brian was buckling his belt. He looked her over.
"Is this okay?"
"I guess..." he murmured, taking in her white knee length skirt and blue short sleeved shirt.
"Then let's go."
"If he even looks at you funny," Brian said as they made their way down the stairs, "we're leaving."
Rose nodded and soon they were out the door and in the car.
They didn't talk much on the ride over, just Rose, mainly, giving directions.
When they reached the house, Pete -or Ray, as Brian, and no doubt Rose, thought of him- answered the door. Smiling, he ushered them inside. Brian was acutely aware of Ray's six foot height over his own five feet, nine inches.
Brian followed Rose into the kitchen, where Charlotte was.
Charlotte smiled at both of them, hugged Rose, then Brian.
"Glad you guys could make it."
Rose smiled.
"Brian, why don't you go out into the livingroom? Get acquainted with Peter," Charlotte suggested.
Brian exchanged a glance with Rose and she pleaded with her eyes for him to go.
"Okay," he said, nodding and forcing a smile. He walked out to the livingroom where Ray was watching TV. He looked up as Brian entered the room and switched the TV off. He stood and offered his hand, smiling, playing the good host.
"Brian, is it?"
Brian nodded, not taking his eyes off the other man's face. Ray released Brian's hand and gestured for him to sit down. Brian did so as Ray sat back down.
Brian wasn't sure if he could fake a pleasant attitude, pleasant conversation. But he found he didn't have to. Ray's smile slowly became a grin, almost smugly superior. Brian wanted to punch it.
"I know you know who I am," Ray said in a low voice. "I have no doubts that our dear Rose has told you."
Brian gripped the armrest, thinking of Rose and Charlotte in the kitchen.
"If you hurt her-"
"What could you do? It'd be my word against hers, and you know how that goes."
"You've already been convicted once. I don't think they'd trust your word."
"Try getting her to press charges. You don't understand the control I have over her, and you never will." Ray stared at Brian. "You're like a little boy playing grown-up, wanting to be a lawyer, but not having the flashy pretentiousness or brass balls to do it."
Brian jumped to his feet and Ray stood.
"You wanna start a fight? With a sleeping baby in the house and the women in the kitchen? Not smart, law boy."
Brian's hand ached with the desire to land just one good punch.
The thought was cut short, however, as Rose and Charlotte entered the room.
"Pete, can you and Rose head to the store? I forgot to get salad stuff."
Before Brian could protest, Ray was smiling and nodded.
"Sure."
Brian could almost see the panic on Rose's face and hoped she would protest instead, but in a matter of second, Ray had the car keys and was ushering Rose out the door.
"We'll be back soon."
Rose was silent in the car, sitting as close to the passenger door as she could. She knew Ray was looking at her, could feel it, could even see it in her peripheral vision.
When they reached the store, Ray parked at the very back of the lot, next to a decorative brick wall that said 'Publix' on the other side. Only in the rich part of town.
Rose's heart was in her throat and her stomach at her feet as she got out of the car. Ray was already waiting for her.
She took a step back and he grabbed her arms, pushing her against the side of the SUV. She whimpered, too afraid to scream or yell for help. She was aware now of his six inch, hundred pound, height/weight advantage over her.
"Had a nice talk with your hubby, back at the house. Don't think he likes me very much."
Rose didn't respond to the bait, just stared at him.
"Oh, c'mon, Rosie, talk to me. I miss that sweet sound of your voice."
"Don't call me Rosie," she whispered.
"But you used to like it so much. Couldn't get enough of it."
"I'm older now." The lump in her throat was preventing her from talking above a whisper.
"That can't just be it."
Rose looked at him.
"Oh, I bet I know what it is. That little incident that happened, what, twelve, thirteen years ago?"
"You would call it a little incident. You just about ruined my life."
"But nobody cared, did they? I only got five years. You didn't know that though, did you? Your dear old daddy wouldn't let you go to the trial. Your testimony was prerecorded. Nobody to distract you." Ray paused, tasting delicious fear. "You sure looked pretty on that tape."
Rose couldn't speak. She was afraid she'd scream.
"You know, I wasn't very high up on the prison social ladder. Down there with child molestors and baby killers. Even the rapists hated me! They'd all raped twenty, thirty-something-year-old women. But I raped a fourteen year old, and they treat me like scum!"
"You are scum."
Ray pulled her forward, pushed her harder against the car.
"At least I admit the rape. I'm not spewing some bullshit about lovemaking or some shit like that. You know why? 'cause I enjoyed it, the struggle. Yeah, that's right. I enjoyed hearing you scream, feeling you trying to get away. Even when you bit me. And especially when your parents came home. When your father pulled me off you. When your mother grabbed you, crying. They didn't notice it then, but you were bleeding. I saw it. And you know what?" Ray leaned in, placing his mouth beside Rose's ear. "It made me hard."
With all her strength, Rose shoved him away. He looked at her, surprised, but also pleased.
"You god damn son of a bitch," she hissed. He stepped forward and slapped her, pushed her down on the ground. She started to get up, crawl away, run away even, but before she could, he was over her, straddling her, holding her down.
"You and your bastard father put me in hell for five years!"
"And where the hell do you think I was? On cloud nine?"
"You had your little private school friends, they all supported you, poor little Rose Lawson."
"I tried to kill myself because of you! They weren't around then!" Rose kept pushing at him, hitting him with her fists. She was crying now.
"What was stopping you?" He finally grabbed ahold her arms, pinning them above her head. He could see the scars on her wrists from her botched suicide attempt. The sight excited him, and he knew she could feel it. He stood up, yanked Rose to her feet, pulled open the back door of the SUV. The long backseat. Rose struggled in his grasp, trying to pull herself away. He half pushed, half tossed her onto the seat, and started to climb in. He noticed too late her foot rising to meet his chest and she was able to deliver a strong kick that sent him out of the car and onto the pavement. She scrambled off the seat, grabbing her purse, and jumped over his dazed form.
She ran two blocks full out and stopped, panting, when she realized he wasn't coming after her. She sat down on a bench and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed Brian's number and pulled herself together while she waited for him to answer.
He answered his usual way and Rose, despite herself, began to cry again.
"Rose? Honey, is that you? What happened? Where are you?"
"Um, I'm two blocks away from Publix. In front of the movie place." She sniffled. "Hurry, please. He might come after me."
"Okay, I'm coming. Just stay there. If he comes after you, go inside the theater or stand by the doors. Okay?"
"Okay. Hurry." Rose ended the call and put her phone back in her purse. Then she sat, hugging herself tightly, until Brian showed up.
When he got there, he got out of the car and came around to her. He went to put his arms around her, but she stepped back, wrapping her arms around her torso again. He stared at her for a moment, then silently opened the passenger door of the car. He waited until she was seated in the car, then shut the door and walked back around to the driver's side.
The ride home was silent, Rose lost in herself and Brian looked at her every so often. Her white skirt was stained, as was her shirt. He wondered what had happened, wished she would tell him.
They reached the house and Rose slowly followed Brian up the walkway and waited for him to unlock the door. She was aware of the guard staring at her. She raised her eyes to him and he blinked.
"Ma'am?" he murmured. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Rose forced a weak smile as she headed inside and shut the door behind her.
"Rose," Brian started. She held up her hand.
"Not now." She looked up at him. "Okay? Not now." She stepped past him and headed up the stairs to the bathroom.
After her shower, Rose walked into her studio. She passed her easel and headed over to the bay window. She sat down on the softly cushioned seat and drew her knees up to her chest, staring out at the dark backyard. A minute later, she reached up and pulled the curtain that covered the entire window and seat closed. At the moment, it was the only thing to make her feel safe.
When Rose didn't come back downstairs, Brian headed up to try and talk to her. He found her in her studio. He saw her feet sticking out past the edge of the curtain, saw the pajama bottoms that had once been his. He walked over and slowly pushed the curtain aside.
"I don't wanna talk," Rose whispered, still staring out the window. Brian reached out to touch her shoulder, but she shrank away from him.
"Please don't." Rose looked up at him."
"I just wanna know what happened."
"And I already told you, I don't wanna talk about it."
"Rose-"
"Stop pushing!" She turned away from him, facing the window again. "Just go to bed." She reached up and pulled the curtain shut again.
Sighing, Brian left the room, not wanting to push and end up in a fight.
Rose came to bed after about an hour. Brian was still awake.
"I love you," he murmured.
"I know."
Brian rolled over and extended his hand to touch her shoulder. Again, she moved away from him.
"Don't touch me right now. Okay? Just don't."
Brian pulled his hand back and stared at Rose's back. He finally fell asleep like that.
Rose awoke after only a couple of hours. She sat up carefully and glanced over at Brian. He was asleep, his hands resting on his chest, his head turned towards her. The clock on his bedside table read 1:43.
Rose swung her feet to the floor and silently left the bedroom. The thick carpeting on the stairs insulated any sound her feet made and she slipped soundlessly down to the kitchen.
As she filled her glass with tap water, she absently stared out the window over the sink. The street in front of the house was silent. And why not? It was two in the morning. Normal people were asleep now. Hell, the guards at the front and back doors were probably asleep. Nobody was burdened by problems, not the way she was.
Rose turned the tap off, and slowly sipped her water, still staring out the window. The house across the street was dark. The Bennets. Sam and Vicki, two very successful doctors. Teenage daughter, Ashlee. Very pretty. Rose sometimes thought about her, worried about her a little.
Rose dumped the rest of her water in the sink and set the glass on the counter. She slowly made her way out of the kitchen and back towards the stairs.
She was almost at the top when she just stopped and sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees.
The memory had come to her suddenly, all of it, or most anyway, and now she had to sit on the fourth step from the top and relive the experience in her head.

Rose lifted the lid of the pot of spaghetti sauce and looked inside, then picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the gently bubbling sauce. She set the spoon down and recovered the pot, lowering the flame under it as she did. She grabbed the other pot off the counter and went to the sink to fill it up. Her parents were out at a party tonight, and Ray, her most favorite person in the world, was at the house with her, not exactly babysitting, just making sure she didn't burn the house down.
She turned the tap off and slowly carried the pot of water over to the stove. She turned the flame on high, stirred the sauce again, and then headed back into the livingroom.
Rose was glad Ray was here instead of her uncle. Her uncle liked to touch her...
"'bout time you got back. My fish were startin' to get lonely."
Rose grinned. "Did you peek?"
"Never!"
"Promise?"
Ray held up his hand in a boy scout salute. "Scout's honor."
Rose giggled and sat down, picking up her hand.
"My turn?" she asked.
"Yep."
"Got any 3's?"
Ray scowled. "You're too good at his," he mumbled as he handed the card over. Rose grinned and set her pair down.
Ten minutes later, Rose went into the kitchen to check the water. It was already bubbling hard, so Rose reached up into the cupboard and got down the box of spaghetti.
As she opened the box, she felt two hands on her arms, forcing them down at her sides. The box of spaghetti fell from her hand and hit the floor with a smack. Pieces of dry spaghetti slid out of the box onto the floor.
"Whaddya say you and I slip away..." a voice whispered in her ear. "Somewhere private."
The hands tightened their grip, pressing her arms harder against her sides.
Ray started to pull her back and she panicked. She wrenched her arms from his grasp and reached blindly forward. Her hand hit the pot of hot water and knocked it over just as Ray grabbed her again. The scalding water poured over her left hand and she shrieked, sinking to the floor. There was no time to nurse her injured hand, however, as Ray reached down and yanked her to her feet.
She cried out as he grabbed her hurt hand and pulled her out of the kitchen and into the livingroom. She struggled against him and they both fell against the long table behind the couch. It broke under their combined weight and they fell to the floor.
Ray was on top of Rose, and she could feel his hands everywhere. She reached behind her for something, anything, and found the phone. She brought it down hard on his head. It distracted him long enough for Rose to push him away and scramble to her feet. Her thought was to get to her parents' bedroom, lock herself in, and call the police. But before she could orient herself enough, Ray grabbed her leg and pulled, bringing her down hard on the floor. Her jaw snapped shut and she tasted blood: she had bitten her tongue. Ignoring the pain as best she could, she rolled onto her back and kicked out with the leg Ray had. Thrown off balance, he stumbled backward quite a few steps. Again, Rose got to her feet and, spitting blood, started back towards her parents' bedroom. Before she'd even reached the entrance to the hallway, however, Ray was back. He lifted her in the air and she cried out, struggling, kicking her legs and flailing her arms.
Ray threw her on the couch and she struck out against him again. He stumbled back a step, into the coffee table. Some of the cards fell off the deck and fluttered to the floor.
Ray was on her suddenly, straddling her. She beat her fists again him, pushing him. She managed to slap him with all her strength. In return, he punched her. Her head snapped back and pain exploded in her nose; it was broken, she knew. She had heard it break. Warm blood rushed out. She was dazed. It seemed as if she was hearing and observing everything from far away now. She was watching herself now, seeing her own rape.
She saw Ray grab her shorts and yank them down, ripping them in the process. She heard metal against metal as he undid his belt, and the grating sound of his zipper. He ripped her underwear too and forced her legs apart.
The pain brought Rose back into herself, and she screamed, and began to cry. Ray held her hands over her head with one hand and balanced himself with the other. He was grunting as he thrust himself in and out. Rose tried to block the sound, but it still permeated her efforts. She found herself praying suddenly. Dear God, please make my parents come home. Dear God, please make him stop. Dear God, why are You doing this to me?
And then, as if in a dream, the front door opened. She heard her parents' voices and then saw them. And suddenly there was a lot of yelling from her father and screaming from her mother.
Ray was pulled off of her by her father and shoved to the floor. Her mother sat beside her on the couch and wrapped her in a blanket, then held her close.
Victor was inflicting the sort of damage that only an enraged father was capable of. Nobody tried to stop him.
"Mommy?" Rose whispered.
"Yeah, baby?"
"I'm sorry about the mess."
This made Nina cry harder. "That's okay, sweetie. I don't care."
Rose turned her head and looked at her father.
"Daddy, stop," she whispered. Sirens could be heard coming closer to the house. Victor looked at his daughter, letting Ray's unconscious form drop to the floor. He came over and took her in his arms and began to cry.
"Baby, I am so sorry," he said, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

Rose pulled herself out of the memory. She wiped away the tears on her cheeks and took a deep breath.
Her cell phone was ringing. Frowning, she stood up and headed down the stairs. She picked up her purse and pulled the phone out.
"Hello."
"Hi, Rosie."
Tears welled in Rose's eyes again. "Why are you calling me?"
"Because I can. Now, don't hang up on me, Rosie."
"What do you want?"
"I just wanna talk."
"No. You don't."
Ray paused.
"You know why your father beat me up that night?" he whispered after a minute.
Rose didn't answer; she didn't want to and she didn't want to hear the answer.
"Because," he continued, "he wanted you all to himself."
"Shut up! That's not true!"
"C'mon, Rosie, you know-"
"You're a lying sack of shit! Leave me alone!"
Rose ended the call and turned the phone off with shaking hands. She dropped the phone on the couch and turned to go back upstairs.
So many noises... a creak, a groan, a scream...
Rose shook her head, pressing her palms to her forehead. It was all in her head...
A brief burst of warm air hit the back of her neck, and she whirled around, gripping the banister. Tears flooded her eyes again and she turned and ran the rest of the way up the stairs. She could hear his voice in her head and she pounded her hands against the sides of her head.
"Stop," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. He was laughing at her...
"Go away!" she cried, dropping to her knees on the carpet. "Stop, please." She sat down and leaned again the wall, holding her head in her hands. He was still laughing, mocking her...
"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop..." The word because her mantra; she repeated it over and over, rocking slowly back and forth and sobbing.
Brian walked out of the bedroom a minute later, saw Rose on the floor, and hurried over to her.
"Rose, sweetie, what's wrong?" he said softly, kneeling down beside her. She looked up at him.
"He's here, in my head... laughing... he won't go away!"
Brian reached forward and took her in his arms, holding her close.
"It's okay, he can't hurt you here. Don't let him get you here, okay?" He kissed the top of her head and continued to hold her, rocking her gently.
Eventually she stopped crying and was soon asleep. Brian held her all night.

* * * * * *

Brian sat down at the table with a fried egg and cup of coffee, but he didn't pick up his fork. Instead, he covered his face with his hands and took a few deep breaths.
That son of a bitch had made her sit in the hallway, panicked, trying to shut up the voices in her head. And what did Brian do? Go to work the next day. He should've done something sooner... anything...

Chapter 7
Chapter 5
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