*Screaming never makes a difference, though her whispers work so well*

Red eyes, blotched skin, blood, spit, and body fluids coating her, Tyler slowly reaches her hand above her head. Mouth opening in a silent screech, she squeezes the cold water over her back, tears caught between her clenched eyelids. Breathing rapid and short, she plunges the rag back into the sink before moving it over to her back and letting the water clean her off a little.

Heart pounding, she knows she needs to hurry. Something holds her back despite every rational part of her knowing she needs to leave. I can do this.

"Tyler?" Someone slurs outside, catching her off guard for a moment. The voice doesn't ask anything else though, leaving her alone, to both the bathroom and her thoughts.

"I...can do this." Tyler's voice cracks as she looks into the mirror, hating how desperate she looks. "How did I let it get this far?"

"Can I even do this?"

"Of course I can."

"Oh God, he's going to be so pissed..."

"But if I don't..."

"I can't do this."

"I can."

Sighing, her fist hits the counter top once, the bang causing her entire body to jump. A loud bang settles into her skin, as if the sound could continue, onward and onward until it reached Don.

Hair falling over her face, she looks through the stands at her reflection. Jaw hard, eyes set in stone, "Now. I'm going now."

Her tender and raw body hurts as she moves. Each foot keeps moving though, as she reaches down and grabs the clothes. Tyler pulls them on gently, as fast as she can through the pain. Sighing, holding back her sobs, Tyler finally takes out the backpack she's kept under the sink. Unable to put it on her back--even the thin layer of shirt she can on is killing her--she carries it as she walks to the window.

The ground is about three feet away from where she's at. The latch opens up it easily, letting a light, warm breeze in from outside. The hard part is left now: Finding out how to get out the window without screaming.

Tyler's back shouts in protest as she tries to bend it. Her knees frown, tensed too much to move her legs into a proper position. Hands worry against each other, feet awkward in the situation. Each idea she has is completely impossible.

"I can't sneak out of here..."

"I can and will."

"No, it hurts too much."

"And? It's better than Don. Come on, Tyler, women up! Be the boss! Beat the street."

"No...no...I should just talk to him." She groans, pulling her fingers through her hair, each strand strangled on top of her rough head. A light scream escapes her, and her body forces itself to fit between the window and the sill. "No thinking. No arguing with myself. I'm doing this. I'm getting out."

As she talks a cluttered cry sounds, each word a whine forced from her throat out of fear. If I stop now..."It's impossible to stop now. A body in motion remains in motion, and a body in rest stays in rest, unless acted upon by an outside force. Don's acted, and I'm moving."

The ground is dry and grainy under her knees, which have given way. Tyler's breathing slows, then rises, as she tries to figure out how to meet up with Kyle. The backpack remains in the window sill, a reminder that she's prepared. "Okay. I can do this."

As she reaches up, a knife cuts through her arm. It scratches, tearing away at the muscle until she manages to pull the backpack down. Though hardly nine pounds, it's enough to stab the wounds deeper. Tyler begins walking towards where Kyle told her to meet him. For a moment, she considers sending him a text of her condition, but she knows it'll change nothing. She doesn't even look back, already knowing she'll be coming home sooner or later.

"It's impossible...to leave forever." Her voice is a hushed whisper carried on by the wind. If only the pain could be so too, yet she suffers through it, heartbeat pounding in every part of her body.

An ebbing numbness begins to work its way down her system, light shivers causing tremors of pain to course through each bone. The dark world around her calls out, the only light from that of the streetlights. Usually the stars would be out, but dark, thick clouds clot everything, closing her from her so loved sky.

"Twinkle...twinkle...little...star..." She cries, unable to control her tears any longer. Each step is chaos unleashed, eating away at the good, the bad, everything there. Nothing lies, nothing but her, and even she can't seem to keep a hold of that. Her voice is broken, cracked in several places and winding down as she reaches the spot Kyle told her to meet him. "Up...above...the world...so high...like...a diamond...in the...sky...

"No stars," Tyler cries out, switching from her song to a low pitched sob, her heart bursting from its chest. "No stars, nothing, I have nothing...nothing...nothing!"

The ground entices her, seducing her until she's curling up on top of it. In the fetal position she lays, sobbing, each breath a submission to herself. Tyler can't pretend any longer, she can't tell herself everything is okay. The lies she's held so long are open, and despite her wishes...she accepts the truth as it comes to her conscious mind.

Her brother has lied to her about everything, excluding, perhaps, his own delusional belief of love.

"Tyler...Babydoll..." Kyle's there, holding her, rocking her, his hands gentle on her bleeding shoulders. His voice is a welcome relief. "Oh, crap...what'd he do to you?"

"Kyle...please..."

He understands without her having to say more. Kyle's hands press down onto her shoulders, lifting her up the slightest bit. Her breathing comes up short as she tries to stand, leaning into him greatly as the pain escalates. Kyle's arm lightly holds her steady, piling her into the back of his dark blue esclade. She doesn't bother to buckle up, instead she leans forward, sobbing still as Kyle climbs back in and Marcus drives off.

"She okay?" Marcus asks lowly, just barely loud enough for her to understand him.

"Hell no. Did you see her back? Don's gone too far."

"Should we take her to the hospital?"

Kyle sighs deeply, "We can't, she's already told us about Don. If we take her now he'll go after her. He's too dangerous..."

"But she's injured!" Marcus breathes heavier, clearly pissed off. "Kyle, we've got to do something about this."

"I know, I know..." A pause. Kyle says something too low for her to hear, and Marcus's reply is even lower. Marcus hands Kyle his phone, and quickly he punches in numbers, calling someone. His voice is mumbled, too gargled for her to understand. Then, just as quickly as he had called, he hangs up the phone. For awhile they talk in near silence, leaving her alone in her thoughts.

Her body ages years as time travels, all she knows is the vehicle. Life is a draining hour glass to her, like the rugged feeling of torn skin on her fingertips. It's physical, living, breathing, dying, each second passing by. She slowly drags in each breath, a silent prayer to herself that she'll be okay. Okay, okay..."Kyle?"

"Yes, baby girl?" His voice is her beacon. "You okay back there?"

"Is...everything going to...be okay?" Dammit. Her voice is more chocked up than she'd thought it be.

Kyle twists in his seat to look back at her, "Honey, I promise we'll fix this. We're taking you to a friend now, she'll get you all better."

"Thank you. Thank you...thank you..." She begins to cry again, her stomach moving thickly against her. The thin shirt is coated now, little bits of blood clinging to the faded black seats.

Marcus pulls onto a dirt road, wheels squeaking just a bit. "Tyler, you're going to have to trust us, okay? Mrs. O'Mally is an old friend. She used to be a doctor, she'll fix you up. But you'll have to let her take care of you, okay? She'll ask you questions. It's safe to talk to her."

"Oh...okay." Tyler looks at them, starting to feel the pain. It's sharp, but not exactly sudden, like a roller coaster that's building it's way up to the bend.

"Here we are. We'll be with you the entire time, it'll be fine..."

"Okay."

The words next exchanged are lost on her, yet she agrees to everything. She hardly looks at the old house as they go inside. The floor, the old, dark floor, is all she can see. Each strand of wood under her feet, each oak piece falling in front of her, building it's way up as she limps through the house.

Mrs. O'Mally is in the kitchen, boiling water. They sit her down in a chair, and then quickly strip her of her shirt.

"Oh, sugar, you're so..." Mrs. O'Mally clicks her tongue, giving her a grim smile before dipping a rag into the water. "This will hurt a bit, but I need to clear the blood to see how bad off you are. Kyle, honey, hold her hand."

Kyle sits on the floor next to her without question, looking into her eyes as he grabs her hand. "I'm here for you, Ty."

"Thank you." Tyler tells him softly. At first she grips his hand lightly, but the second the hot water touches her skin she screams, squeezing his hand with all she's got. "No! No! Please...no..." Tyler cries, pleading as the lady dips the cloth back in and pours it over her back once more.

Eight more times she does this, the water collecting in some sort of basin at the bottom of her chair. Each of the chairs have this, Tyler notes.

"Shh..." Mrs. O'Mally pets Tyler's head, "Don't you go crying. Day in and out I've had girls before, ones beaten, abused, whipped beyond compare. Most aren't half as strong as you are. Young lady, you're so brave. You've gotten out, but there's a long way before you're out of this." As she talks her fingers gently run over each cut, measuring how deep they are. "I'm going to have to stitch some of these up. Is that okay?"

Tyler nods, tears still running down her face, "Yeah...it's okay."

"Who was it?" Something in the way she asks tells Tyler she already knows, but yet she still waits patiently for the answer.

"My brother." The word is a brick to her gut.

Something hot touches her skin, and instantly her back curves, trying to get rid of it. She grips Kyle's hand tighter. "How long?"

"Since I was twelve. 'Bout eight years now."

"She's gone through a lot." Kyle edges in quietly, lightly squeezing her hand while giving her a smile. "She's something, isn't she?"

Mrs. O'Mally chuckles kindly, "Something indeed. Eight years, you say? Have you told anyone?"

"At first I told my teachers, but Don laughed it off, saying I made it all up. He's...good at talking to people." Tyler takes a sharp breath as the hot prick continues to travel down her back, "As I got older, I hinted to my Dad. He...he never got it though."

"And your Mom?"

Tyler sighs through her pain, "Sick. She's got cancer. I know she's going to die soon. I couldn't tell her, it'd break her little heart. They both love my brother so much, you see..."

Mrs. O'Mally stops for a moment, kissing Tyler's forehead. "You remind me of my daughter. So kind and caring. Trust me, baby, you'll figure this out. I've got one wound all patched up. There's two others, okay? After that I'll wrap them."

"Okay." Tyler smiles, then grimaces as the pain starts up again, "Thank you..."

For the next hour she patches Tyler up, her sweet voice telling Tyler everything as she does it. Kyle keeps her safe, focused on his face as he pets her hand.

"There you go. Would you mind putting on an old nightdress of my daughters? I can't bear seeing you in those old, bloodied clothes. Now, you'll be staying with Kyle and Marcus, so they'll return it whenever. You okay with that?"

"Yeah...that's fine." Her words are slurred, fatigue starting to overtake her.

The old lady walks her upstairs, taking her to the first room and sitting her down on a bed. "Oh, I love dressing you girls up. I haven't gotten to dress anyone up in ages, my own daughter too old for anything like that. I know, you girls nowadays are all tough, too tough to be girly...but I think it's perfectly possible to be both at the same time. One can be tough, yet like wearing dresses, putting on makeup, messing with boys..." She laughs, pulling out a light green night dress. "This should fit you. What size are you?"

"Umm...I think about a seven in that type of dress."

"This is a seven half. Bit big, but it'll do the job." She puts the dress over the bandages, adjusting it for her silently.

"Thank you, Mrs. You're so nice..." Tyler begins to cry again, unable to story the tears. The lady pulls her into a hug, holding her as Tyler weeps.

"Shh...Shh...I know, I know. You're welcome back anytime, though I hope you're not so hurt. I know I'm not family, but...I'd love to be. Marcus is my nephew, and any friend of his or Kyle's is a friend of mine." She smooths out Tyler's hair, beginning to comb it with her fingers as Tyler just leans into her.

......∞......

Kyle holds onto Marcus, the two of them talking intently as Tyler walks back down. They don't stop, yet both lower their voices, as if telepathically telling one another to quiet down.

"Is everything okay?" Tyler asks quietly, stopping next to the couch.

Marcus glanced over to her, a tight smile on his face, "Everything's okay."

"You don't sound like everything's okay."

He looks to Kyle, then back to her. "Yeah...I know. But it'll be okay, all right?"

"All right."

"Let's go back to our house. We'll get you some food and you can get some rest. Looks like you'll need it." Kyle tries a joking smile as he takes her arm, and wanting to make him feel better she gives him one back.

"Thank you, for everything, Aunt Katie." Marcus gives his aunt a long hug before he leaves, walking behind the two of them as they make their way outside and down the driveway.

"Bye Mrs. O'Mally!" Kyle calls, waving one hand behind him wildly.

Tyler manages a weak wave, too tired to speak any longer.

The second the vehicle starts she leans against the other seats, her eyes closing as she falls into a deep sleep.

Waves are crashing, yet they're not really waves. Hands, formed up like waves, slap against the bloody sand. Each grain cries, pleading for it to end, for the pain to leave. Yet it doesn't, and suddenly each hand is wielding a knife, sharp and ready to cut.

But they never make it that far. A different hand, one bigger, more gentle, lifts the sand, bringing it to a safe patch of grass.

"Don't you worry, Baby...I've got you." A familiar voice tells her, holding her in his kind hands.

Tyler smiles in her sleep, his name on the tip of her tongue. He's like her brother, a kinder version, one who truly cares. She's always known this, yet never before had she realized so clearly, so honestly...

Kyle pats her head, then turns, leaving her there safely. He joins hands with another, and the two watch over her, keeping away the waves.

***

...Can I just take a moment to say how much I love Kyle? Man, I've been waiting for this chapter. What do you guys think?

Who all loves Mrs. O'Mally? I adore her, honestly.

Do you guys think things will start to be looking up for Tyler? Or is this only the beginning for what's yet to come for her? :)