Travis looks like he wants to ask something, but he doesn't. "Oh, shit. Look outside."

Reporters are swarming around the diner. "Fuck," I say. Travis hands me his hoodie. I slip it on and pull the hood up.

"Come on," he says.

Travis and I push through reporters, all screaming questions. Their voices blur into one. At some point, it's just Travis guiding me onto a bus.

"You got a lawyer?" he asks me. I look up.

"Yeah. Michael Dimitri," I say.

"Oh, shit," Travis says, I frown.

"What? You know him or something?" I ask. Travis nods.

"Yeah. He defended the mom of one of my boys. He's a beast in the courtroom," Travis tells me.

"She was able to afford Dimitri?" I ask. Travis shakes his head.

"Nah. He did it Pro-bono. He's a good guy," Travis tells me.

"Yeah," I say. "He's an ass, though."

"Seems like it," Travis says. "Uh, so...I kinda half to ask." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Go on." I know it's going to be about the trial.

"Did you do it? Did you kill that guy?" Travis asks. I shrug.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that he's dead," I say. "Braxton wasn't a good man."

"Did he do something to you?" Travis asks.

"Yeah. He did do lots of bad things to me. But he's dead," I say. Travis nods. "So, where are we going?"

"I'm guessing you don't have anywhere to stay?" He says. I nod. "My cousin Dominique can help."

"You're sure?" I ask. He nods.

"She's a little eccentric...but I think you'll get along."

Travis and I get off at the next stop. "Dom is around your age I think. You're twenty-six, right?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Cool. She's twenty-eight. Anyways...Forewarning," he starts as we walk up to an apartment. "Dom's a stripper...so."

"That's cool," I say. We take the elevator to the fourth floor. Travis leads me down a hallway and then turns right. He knocks on a door.

A woman opens it. "Sup, Trav?" she says. She looks at me. "This Ade?"

"Yeah. Can we come in?" Travis asks.

"Sure," she pushes open the door. "I'm Dominique."

"Ade," I say.

"Couch is yours," she says. "Nice ankle monitor. What'd you do?"

I shrug. "You heard about Braxton Thorne?"

"Yeah...shit, you did that?" Dominique asks. I shrug. She grins. "Damn, girl. You and me are gonna get along just fine."

I smile. "I have to get to class," Travis says.

"Say hi to everyone for me," I say. Travis nods.

"Bye, Dom," he says. She hugs him and knuckles his head.

"Stay in school, bitch," she says. He grins and nods. After he leaves, Dominique says, "Shit's about to get real tonight. You know the Red Line?"

I nod. "Yeah. It's a classy strip club, right?"

"Yeah. Lots of doctors and lawyers and shit. I'm workin' tonight," she says. "Travis says good things about you. So, you wanna come?"

"Um, maybe another night. Sorry, I haven't slept much. The legal system is an asshole." Dominique laughs.

"I like you," she says. "You teach the writing class that Travis always talks about?"

"Yeah, why?" I ask.

"I had to drop out of high school, but I'm taking some classes online. I want to be a lit major. You mind looking at some of my stuff?" she asks.

"Sure," I say, smiling.

"Cool. I'm gonna get some sleep," she says. "Help yourself to the bathroom and the kitchen."

Dominique walks away. I sit down on the couch. I sigh and turn on the TV, I should see what all of the news channels are saying about me.

"...The police now have arrested and arraigned Camille Kincaid...a loner...it's no surprise...We should have seen it coming."

I get up and grab a glass of water. And then I see her on the TV and the glass drops and shatters. "This is Seraphine Thorne, the widow of Braxton Thorne."

"Shit," I mutter. I start picking up the glass. Dominique walks in.

"You okay?" she asks.

"Yeah, sorry," I say. "I...something on the TV..."

"What? That woman?" Dominique asks. I nod. We both look at the TV.

"I just want you to know, Camille Kincaid," Mrs. Thorne says. "Nothing will stop me from getting justice for my husband."

The reporter says, "Mrs. Thorne has two kids, twelve months and two years old..."

"Oh, God," I mutter. I run into the bathroom and vomit into the toilet. I put my head against the cool porcelain.

"You okay?" Dominique asks. She hands me a glass of water.

"I'm fine," I say. She shakes her head.

"Girl, you're so not okay. You can tell me," she says.

"I just...I didn't know that he had kids," I say.

"So you knew him?" she asks.

"A long time ago." I drink some of the water.

"He really messed you up, huh?" Dominique asks. She sits on the floor across from me.

"Yeah," I say.

"You know, I've been through my fair amount of gang bangs and drug deals. Shit happens to everyone," Dominique tells me.

"I hope what he did to me never happens to anyone else," I say. She frowns.

"Well, what exactly did he do?"

"Adelaide, you have to tell me what he did," the detective from the hospital said. She asked to meet for coffee.

"Didn't the doctors tell you?" I asked. "He ripped me apart."

"You said he raped you twice, what happened the first time?" she asked me.

"He raped me. I went to trial. Five minutes was all it took for the jury to find him not guilty," I told her. She wrote something down.

"When was this?"

"Two years ago. I was twenty-two," I told her. "Everyone told me I was wrong. 'Oh, no Adelaide. He couldn't have raped you. You wanted it that way. It's your fault. You write those books, you liked it like that. Just let it go, Adelaide.'"

"What happened after the trial?" she asked.

"I pushed everyone away. My family got sick of me waking up screaming. So I moved away and tried to start again." My voice broke. "And then he came back."

"It's not your fault, Adelaide," she told me honestly.

"It seems like it."

"What did he do, Ade?" Dominique asks. "You can tell me anything. I won't tell anyone."

"You can't tell anyone. No one knows," I say. She nods, I pinch the bridge of my nose. "That man on the TV? Braxton Thorne?"

"Yeah," she says.

"I used to be his intern. He treated me like shit and got progressively worse. But one day, I had a drink with a man that I was seeing. He kissed me goodnight and then Braxton was waiting outside of my apartment. He kissed me and I pushed him away. I unlocked my door and then...then he raped me," I say.

"Oh, fuck," Dominique mutters.

"He was fast that time. The whole thing took ten minutes. He left, I went to a hospital, got a rape kit," I say. "I went to the police. There was a trial, he was found not guilty. They told me I liked it like that."

"Shit," she mutters. "There's more isn't there?"

I nod. "I don't have to tell you anymore."

"It's okay," Dominique says. "Go on."

"After the trial, I moved away, just a few cities. I got a job. I was good. I even met someone and about to be engaged," I say. "It was two years after the rape when I came home late from work. Braxton was in my apartment."

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Dominique mutters.

"He tied me up, said that I was his. I don't know how many times...he was everywhere..." I rub my face. "I think it was two days, maybe three that he had me. He said, 'You're a worthless cunt, Adelaide. No one will ever want you, you fucking whore.' Braxton left after that."

"Why did he call you Adelaide?" she asks.

"Adelaide Marks? You ever read those books?" I ask. Her eyes widen.

"Yeah, holy shit! She's my favorite author," Dominique says. I smile thinly.

"I used to be her," I say. "But then, I got an infection from everything thing he did. The infection led to complications. I'll never have kids.

"He took everything away from me. And I couldn't let him...again. I moved to New York, left California and changed my name. I was okay for two years. But then...he was walking...he winked at me and I...I-I," I stutter.

"It's okay." Dominique hugs me. He's gone."

"I've never told anyone most of this," I say. A tear slips down my cheek. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm glad you told me," she says. "Shit, I must be petty as hell. I thought the world was ending cuz I skipped a period. But compared to your shit...it really puts things in perspective."

I laugh. "Thanks."

She grins. "You and me are gonna be real good friends."