Victor stopped speaking mid-sentence and looked at Brian.
"Where are you at?" he asked, staring into Brian's glazed over eyes. "Brian?"
Brian blinked and looked up. "What?"
"You've been out of it for a few weeks now. What's up?"
Brian sighed and set his pen down.
"Is everything okay between you and Rose?"
"Well, yeah..."
Victor set his pen down as well and leaned on the table.
"Okay, Brian, I'm no longer your boss. I'm now your father-in-law. Now tell me what's wrong."
Brian sighed, caught between keeping Rose's trust and keeping her safe.
"Brian, I'm a lawyer and a former cop. I'll get it out of you one way or another."
"Ray's back."
Victor sighed. "I know-"
"No." Brian paused. "Ray is Pete."
"Pete? The one she had the baby for?"
Brian nodded. Victor was silent for a moment, then he stood up and walked over to the phone.
"Who're you calling?"
"The police. I'm gonna have this son of a bitch arrested."

The next day, however, the police were forced to let Ray go.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Lawson, but again, as you should know, we can only hold him for 24 hours without probable cause. After that, we need a charge. We don't have one. Your daughter needs to come in and file a complaint against him. What you and your son-in-law are telling me is hearsay, basically."
"But can't you hold him for something? Anything?"
"Victor, you know we can't. I'm sorry."
Victor sighed. "Thanks anyway." He turned and nodded at Brian, and they left.
"Brian, try to talk her into filing a complaint," Victor asked as they drove back to the firm for Brian's car.
"I'll try. I've been trying, but I'll keep on."
Brian arrived home just as James was leaving.
"Rose?" he called, pulling his tie off.
"Up here."
Brian headed up the stairs and stood in the doorway of Rose's studio. He watched her for a moment. She was painting a large red rose.
"How was your day?" she asked, still adding strokes to the rose.
"Um, good... I guess." Brian paused. He'd stayed late at work the day before, and hadn't talked to Rose about Ray's arrest. "I told your dad yesterday about-"
"Charlotte called me when they arrested Ray. In total hysterics. Asked me what was going on, what was this about Ray's attacks on me? And she wanted to know why they were calling her husband 'Raymond'."
"Rose-"
"Just tell me they still have him."
Brian was silent a minute. Rose had stopped painting and was clutching the brush tightly.
"I'm sorry, honey," he said finally. "They can't hold him longer than a day unless you press charges. They had to let him go."
Rose was silent for a moment, then she dipped her brush in the black paint and painted a large, harsh black 'X' over her beautiful rose. Then she stood up and pushed past Brian out of the room. He closed his eyes and heard a door slam. She'd locked herself in one of the guestrooms.
Brian slowly walked to the master bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He pulled it off and dropped it on the floor as he walked to the bathroom.
He stared at his reflection for a while, allowing his anger and frustration to build up until finally...
"God damn it!" he screamed, and punched the mirror. In one movement, he swept everything off his counter and onto the floor, then turned and slid to the floor, his back against the cabinet doors. He stared at his bloody fist and flexed his fingers, wincing at the pain. Shards of mirror glinted around him, showing him slightly distorted views of his own reflection. He hated it.
Brian reached out and picked up one of the larger pieces of the mirror. He stared at it for about an hour, lost in himself, until his eyes misted over and he couldn't bear to look at himself anymore. He squeezed the mirror shard tightly in his hand, feeling the sharp, jagged edges cutting into his skin and he cried out from the pain, watching the blood drip from his fist. But, even with the pain, he didn't loosen his grip.
Rose walked into the bathroom a moment later and let out a cry.
"Brian, what did you do?" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him. "Open your hand, let it go," she said softly, gently prying his fist open.
"God, what did you do?" she asked again as some excess blood dripped into her hand. Brian just stared at her.
Rose grabbed a hand towel from her counter and wrapped it around Brian's hand.
"C'mon, honey, you need to go to the hospital. C'mon, get up." She grabbed his good hand and pulled him to his feet. He swayed slightly and Rose glanced down at the large pool of blood that had already formed.
"C'mon, we gotta be quick, c'mon, honey, walk."
Rose grabbed her purse as they left the house. The guard looked at her, slightly alarmed, but she shook her head.
"Stay here."
At the hospital, Rose was left in the waiting room with the blood soaked towel and Brian's wedding ring. While she waited, she washed the blood off his ring. No matter how she tried, though, she couldn't get the blood from the engraving on the inside of the band. She borrowed a Q-tip and some hydrogen peroxide and finally managed to get the ring sparkling again.
She stared down at it until Brian finally came out. His left hand was bandaged, but he seemed otherwise alert.
The doctor told Rose that their health insurance covered the stitches.
"Over-the-counter pain killers should relieve any pain he may have. Have any idea how or why he did this?"
Rose shook her head. "None."
"Okay. Well, just don't let him use it too much."
Rose nodded. "Thanks." She took Brian's good hand and they left the hospital.
"Can I just say," Rose began softly, "that you just scared the hell out of me?"
"I'm sorry... I don't know... I just was angry all of a sudden."
"And you took it out on the mirror and your hand?"
Brian glanced at Rose and grinned slightly. "Yeah."
"Well, next time, find something else to take your anger out on."
"Okay."
Rose leaned over and kissed Brian softly.
"Besides," she said as the light turned green, "I'm supposed to be the one freaking out, not you."
Brian's smile faded, but Rose looked away and Brian didn't say anything.
When they reached the house, Rose went into the kitchen to fix dinner while Brian went upstairs to take some aspirin. Afterwards, as he walked past Rose's studio, he was overcome by curiousity, and he opened the door. The floor was littered with balled up drawings that he hadn't noticed before. He walked over to the closest one and knelt down, picked it up and opened it as best he could with his hurt hand. It was a sketch of a girl sitting in a corner, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head down.
Brian reached for another ball of paper and opened it. This one, unlike the style Brian was used to, was childish, drawn in crayon. It was a man, obviously dead, bearing a slight resemblance to Ray.
Brian assumed they were all like this, either adult or child-like. It worried him, the two extremes, and he wondered how much Ray had broken her.
Rose called up to him from the kitchen and he stood up, pocketing the drawings, then headed downstairs.
After dinner, they sat on the couch to watch a movie on TV. Halfway through, Rose looked at Brian.
"Why did you do it?" she asked softly.
"Do what?"
She reached across his lap and gently lifted his left hand. "This."
"I told you, I got angry."
"Because of me?"
"No."
"Why?"
Brian sighed. "Because of me. My inability to protect you."
"Don't do that to yourself. Ray's a slimy bastard. You're not. You have no way to know what he's going to do. It's not your fault." Rose kissed his cheek lightly. Then she yawned. "I'm going to bed."
Brian nodded and Rose kissed him, then stood up and headed up the stairs.
Brian sat for a moment, then turned the TV off and stood up. He cleaned up the kitchen, then went up to bed. Rose was already asleep. Brian undressed quietly and slipped bed, resting his hurt hand on his chest. He was asleep moments later.

* * * * * *

Brian drained the last of his coffee and placed the mug on the counter. He should've gotten her some professional help. The drawings were enough. And what happened later that night...
But he was a fool. Stupid, powerless.
Brian filled the mug with water and drank it down, preparing to run.

Chapter 8
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