Avery, stands just inside the door, staring. His eye's haunting like a nightmare, I want to get up and walk out the back door. Jack had promised I could go through the secret exit if I need to, I didnt tell him why, of course. Moby Dick sit's on the darkwood table infront of me, now forgotten. I grip the tables edge, my knuckle's lose their color as my finger's dig into the wood. A brace to keep from running. If I run, I know he will punish me.

Like a power drunk prison guard, sliding a night stick along the cell bar's, he creeps toward me. I shift in my seat, as he sit's on the other side of the booth. Behind his furrowed brow something has changed, I can tell because any other time, he would've already had me follow him to the alley behind the coffee house; where he would probably rip the scarf from my neck, and trace the lining of his hand on my skin, force a poisonous kiss to my lip's.

Instead, the relaxation around his mood, is calm. Much how he seems after beating me, or dragging me to the basement for a quick release. I begin to fear he's found another innocent to torture, to be his personal toy to play his game's with, as he has done to me for over a year. I pretend to read my book, as commanded by him, willing him to leave. We're sucluded in the small space of the corner, but a scene would still be noticed. Avery burns his gaze into the top of my head, his hand's and finger's intertwining on the table. The front door bell ring's, and I turn my eye's up before my blood runs cold. Coming through the door, and over to the counter is Chloe. The girl Avery made a spectacle of at the last two parties, I've prayed for her since watching her being escorted by the devil himself from the Halloween party. My concern proves honest as my attention falls to her throat, where a long teal scarf hangs like a noose.

My eye's meet, Avery's. Mine struck with concerning tear's, his washed over with murderous wonder. He slowly plants his palm's face down onto the table, and lift's himself up, and bent over the table. He lean's to my face, nose to nose "She was more of a fighter than you were." He smile's.
I feel my coffee brewing it's way into my throat, as he leaves the booth, stopping at the open door to give me a look of warning. A "Don't do anything stupid." hint.

I pull my bag from under the table, and once Avery is out of sight, I scribble a note on a torn piece of yellow paper. The leather seat moans while scooting out, and I make my way to the bar. I notice, Chloe is behind it with Jack.

"Hey, Jack. Chloe?" I say to them
"Ava, how was your coffee?" Jack smiles, walking closer to me.
"It was great, as always. Thanks, Jack." I half smile, pain ridden. I turn my attention to, Chloe. Who is refilling napkin despensers. "You work here now?" I ask her.
"Yep, it's my first day actually."
My heart breaks for her, of all the terrible thing's I've been through, I can't imagine someone else going through it too. I can feel the note in my closed fist waiting to be handed over.
"Chloe, I want to say I'm sorry. For not being very nice to you, and always running off. I'm just going through something right now, but I hope we can be friends." I extend out my hand to shake her's. She seems confused, but she takes my hand anyway. The discrete folded paper reaches her palm, and I can see her eye's shift from wonder, to sudden interest.

Her hand's clasp around the paper as she pulls it away. You must be sneaky to get past the leash of, Avery. I've found my small loopholes in the last twelve month's. Like, I know Avery has something always going on around campus, so he can't always be watching. Can he? I walk away. When I glance into the window outside I watch Chloe, holding the paper low to cenceal the message:

There's a diner down the street, meet me there at midnight in the women's bathroom.

I'm gone before she can whip around and question me, I can't afford to look suspicious. Not when I know Avery is watching. I head straight home to my off-campus apartment, and swing the heavy door shut, followed by the seven lock's put in place for my protection. The steel is icy on my finger's when I twist the one in the middle, dead center of the door. It's a solid steel rod that extends on both sides for good measure.

Leo, my furball cat meow's from the counter, I stroke his back to his tail. He loves that. I pour him some dried food, and calapse on my bed. I think of, Chloe. I imagine her face, twisted and screaming for help, exactly how I had done.
The image of her soon distorts into my own memory of the first time, Avery raped me. The memories make me shudder, I decide to draw a bath. While the water slowly rises in the tub I stand at the mirror, the scarf fall's in the sink after tearing it away. After this long, I'm still not sure if the ghastly thing is meant to cover the handprint that, Avery has made sure would always be there. There, to remind me I'm his. A sure fire way to keep me from engaging in any activity with a man, what man would want a woman to undress and reveal countless scar's, and a hand on their throat? Only, Avery Duncan that's who. Or is the scarf to keep me in line, having something constricting at my throat at all times?

I can barely look at myself anymore, disgusted by my own reflection. I've covered every mirror in my tiny home, and taken away the picture's of my doting family, that once hung from my wall's. The posed smile's of them, cheesy fake backdrop's, I have lost the appeal of being seen. Even by picture's.

I turn the water off and slide into the bath, steam rises around me while I sponge my wound's. After my bath I sit on my futon, and watch rerun's of terrible reality show's untill it's half past eleven. On the street it's abandoned, strange for New York. Given the freezing weather I guess I can understand why the people of the city have retired to their cozy walk-up's and high rises. I push through boxes behind the diner, and sneak in the back door. My bright red wig snags on the door jam, it almost comes off but I catch it just in time. Another way of dodging, Avery. Inside I wait at the corner of the wall for the cook, and waitress to turn their back's before rushing through the kitchen. I make it just in time through he swinging door, and into the hall where the door to the bathroom is.

I slink inside and sit on the lowered toilet seat, then check my watch. At five-after I start to believe she isn't coming, then a slow knock sounds on the door outside. I crack it, then pull her inside.

"Why did you want...did you dye your hair?" Chloe notices the wig on my head. I pull it off and shake out my real hair, and stuff the wig into my bag.
"It's a wig." I tell her, I've never told anyone about, Avery. So finding the word's to level with her is quite difficult. She shifts her footing, becoming uneasy with the sudden silence between us. Almost awkward, I mean. . . I don't even know the girl, but there is something binding us together. For the first time in a long time, I feel an once of hope. Never being able to speak to anyone, scared that the ugly truth would spill from my lip's. But now... there is someone else, someone I can spill it all to, hold nothing back, and that person is, Chloe.

Finding the word's turns out to be useless. Too many emotion's are at the edge of my voice, I can feel fire inside me that was once exstinguished, sizzling a microscopic spark. Instead of talking I reach gently for the length of her scarf. Chloe backs away.
"You know. . .when he gave me mine, I almost thought it was beautiful." I rub my thumb over the beadwork on the end of the length. A shining tear fall's from her cheek and splashes into silk.

"I don't know what you mean." She lies. My vision blurs, like opening eye's underwater as I peel my scarf from my neck. I feel naked, bare and exposed while she backs away from me. I begin to cry and step toward her.

"I know you know what I mean. It was Halloween night wasn't it? I should have stopped him, but I was too scared I would be lying beside you in that basement." I sob, watery mucus drains in a thin line from my nose. "I am so sorry."

Chloe's knee's buckle beneath her and she fall's to a sitting fetal position, her shoulder's shake with her head burried into her folded arm's. I kneel beside her, and take her into an embrace. We sit on the dirty floor of the diner bathroom, locked into an unraveling release. Deep down I can't tell if my emotion is pouring from my eye's because of guilt, or relief that I can talk to someone again.

Ten minutes later we stand, and use the thin tissue paper provided by the diner to wipe the smeared makeup from our bloated faces. Chloe takes my hand softly, I can feel her's trembling.
"Thank you." She says.
"For what?"
"For letting me know I'm not alone." She replies, patting the top of my hand.

...

At home once again, I lie awake unable to sleep as usual. I listen to the noises of the city, the never ending buzzing helps to numb the restless night's that always find me. I've always thought I was the only play thing Avery had in his lock's and chain's. Night after night I lie awake, waiting to hear the crash of an intruder, for the intruder to be Avery, coming to end my misery. But I'm not the only one, he enjoys causing pain, it excites him. It thrills him as much as food used to thrill me. I loved to cook once, but I don't have much of an appetite anymore. If I'm not the only one that's been his prisoner, and Chloe's not the only one either, then there must be more. More victim's of his game. More slave's to his cruelty, and iron fist. My dream's of becoming a chef have long since left me, the passion has died out like a cancer. With nothing to hold over me, like my much needed, and well deserved scholarship; nothing can hold me back from taking Avery down. But I can't do it without, Chloe.

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Photo:Jensen Ackles, who is the character inspiration for Avery. The photo is the exact replica of what I imagine when, Avery "Burns his eye's" into his women. A show of power, and dominance. Yes, he's gorgeous. I know... Behold, the "Avery Stare"!