"How long were you down there. . .In the basement?" A female detective prods, holding a small black notebook, pen awaiting every disgusting detail. The intense smell of cheap coffee reeks from her cliche trench coat. A cop recently promoted who's trying too hard. Her furry brows meet while I pick at a string dangling from my sweater. My mother's hand glides across my back to reassure me that it's okay.

"Can I take a break? Just for a while, I need some air." I stand up from the metal table, catching a glimpse of myself in the two-way mirror. Not a spot of makeup touches my face, a ratty ponytail, and puffy red eyes. The media frenzy outside the station should adore my lack of beauty today. I wince as my hip brushes against the tables edge.

I walk with my head lowered through the crowded sqaud room, detectives and uniformed officers stare when I pass them. I raise my head passing the man I had given the lighter to, his worried eyes seep into mine. How, Avery got the lighter back I'll never know.

"Just ignore the stares sweetheart." My mother whispers, guiding me with a gracefull arm around me.
"I'll just be a minute." I tell her at the door, hinting that her protection isn't needed, now that my rapist is in jail.
"I don't like that idea, Chloe. What if..."
"Mom. I'll be okay. I'll be right outside the back door."

Her face falls with defeat, and I know I've won. Since the story got out to the media, my parents have glued themselves to my bitten hips. Standing outside the bathroom door, watching me sleep, it's too much right now. She pulls me in for a hug, "I'm just so scared he'll get to you somehow." I hear her fighting the tears back.
I pull out of her hug and give her a tiny smile before walking through the back door, and out into the alley.

Broken pavement and concrete crunch under my sneakers while I pace. Thinking of how to make it all go away so I can take care of, Avery myself. Watching a stranger stick a lethal needle into, Averys arm wouldn't satisify me as much as doing it myself. I give my foot a kick and watch a soda can crash into the brick.

"Clo?" Zen pokes his head from the door, "You okay?" Sincere, and polished but his face frowns.
"I want to leave, Z. Tell them I'm sick or something." I tangle my fingers into my hair still pacing.
"Clo, you have to d.."
"Don't!" I whip around and face him with tears, "Do not tell me what I've got to do, Z." My voice sounds sharp in my ears and I instantly regret my outburst. Zen gives me a heartbroken nod, and closes the door.

"Shit. Z, wait!" I shout, swinging the door open. He must've stormed from the door, he stops mid-step half way down the hall. He stuffs his hands into his jean pockets, waiting for my apology. The faint glow of fluorescent lights twitching over his head makes his dark hair look like tar.

"I'm sorry. I'm just on edge." I say to his back, he turn's, "I know you are, Chloe. But this won't get any easier. This has to be done." I nod but I don't like the truth.
"They say I won't be charged for bashing his face in, said it was self defense. They don't know how good it felt though." He chuckles, attempting to pry my lips apart into a smile. 

We make our way back to the mirror room, and make a deal that I give my statement alone, without anyone else to listen. Zen and my mother want to object, but have no choice. It's my call, and I had make it.
"We'll go find a coffee, sweetheart." She pecks my cheek before trailing off with, Zen in search of bottom shelf brew and stale donuts. I watch until I can't see the shine on the crown of my mothers hair. Just to be sure they don't pop in to hear the filth that'll escape my mouth.

"Dectective Sides," The detective smiles a too big smile. He quickly shakes my hand, "I'll be taking your statement." He opens the door before me, and holds it for me to step inside

The interrogation room is just as I'd imagined it would be after watching countless crime drama's on TV; Cold, hard, and bland. With my arms folded I lower myself again on to the metal chair, this time I feel a softness under me. Detective Sides jacket, a peace offering for my discomfort.

"Thanks. For the padding" I tell him while he sit's across from me.
"It's the least I could do." He twangs, obviously not from New York.
"You're not from around here are you, Detective?" I dip my toes into the water, forcing myself to talk.
"No ma'am, Alabama. Not much crime in small towns. But enough about me, let's start from the beginning." He clicks a voice recorder, and places it slowly on the table.

"It doesn't matter what I tell you." I look to the floor.
"Why's that?"
"You don't know who you're going up against. What he did to me, to dozens of others, it doesn't matter because of who he is. Money defeats justice." I look to his face.
"Listen, I don't care how rich this guy is. I need to know what he did to you. I need to hear every bit of it." He rests his arms on the table, closing his hands together. His hands are worn, broken in, and callused. I imagine him on a humid farm in the south; sweat beading down his neck while he heaves hay bales from a rusted pickup truck. In the dead of winter in New York his tanned skin is off-putting.

"Fine." I sit back in the chair, "Avery Duncan. He spotted me at one of his parties, drugged me, chained me in a basement and raped me. He raped and beat me over and over for days."

Sides face stares blankly at my word vomit, unable to respond. "Go on." He gulps jotting down my story.

"There's proof. He recorded the entire thing, and took photos. He keeps them on a flash drive disguised as a metal lighter, there's dozens of others on it. One of them is a girl named, Iris. She was one of his victims too, there's a video on the drive of him pushing her from the roof of the library." The more I speak the more the words fall out.

"Did he stalk you before the first attack?" Sides asks.
"Not that I know of," I sniff, "But after, he was everywhere. Always watching to make sure I behave, then he sent me this." I pull the scarf from my neck and throw it on the table, "To cover my bruises. He came to the dorm shower room, and bit into my shoulder while I was in the shower. Just to prove he could be anywhere. Can I go now?" I stand, the urge to scrub my skin pink under scalding water rising inside me. I need to wash him away.

Sides looks to his notes and back to my straining face. As he had said "Not much crime in small towns" I almost feel sorry for the guy, fresh off the farm coming to the big city as I had done, yearning for something exciting to happen. Such luck he'd get here and get stuck with my horror story along with dozens of other girls.

"I think we've got enough for today." He stops the recorder.
"Today? How much more do you want from me, when can I leave New York?"
"Ma'am this is a long process. We've gotta get all of our facts straight before we can go any further. Right now he's in a holding cell for the initial kidnapping and assault the night you were rescued. Given his financial status he'll probably post bond by the end of the day."

I take a stumbling step back and trip into the chair, "So he'll be back on the streets? He'll come after me, you don't know him like I do, he'll kill me!" I slam my hand into the metal table. Sides rushes around and crouches next to me, his southern instincts to protect a lady in trouble kicking in.

"We'll have an officer outside where you're staying at all times, he won't be able to get to you I swear." His firm tone is promising, but I know, Avery. Nothing will keep him from getting to me. He will come after me.
"Okay. Can I go home now. Home, as in West Brooke?"
"Not just yet. We've scheduled a proper exam to document your injuries. When you were in the hospital the doctor on call wasn't aware of the situation. You can leave tomorrow night after the exam."

I stand again, and give him a half-hearted smile, "Thanks."

I hand him his jacket and leave the room to find my family and, Zen. I find them in the hall twisting their faces after each sip of coffee.
"We can go now." I tell them.

Zen holds my hand as we push through the bright flashes, and roaring noise of the media circus camped out at the door. "Did he rape you? Is the father of the baby, Avery Duncan?" The questions swarm us with thick padded microphones just inches from my face. The pit pushes and knocks me from side to side until I'm able to escape into the back of an unmarked sedan.

"Get us out of here." I tell the driver, a young uniform cop. He gives the siren a few blows to warn the media to back away. They take the hint and spread, each of them looking into their enormous cameras to snap a shot of my face like vultures.

The drive back to our hotel seems endless in city traffic. With a flash of blue and a short blare of the siren the jammed cars finally pull to the side enough to let us through.
"I'll need you guys to stay in the car while I speak to the hotel manager about security." The officer says, and closes the door. He rushes inside rubbing and blowing into his hands against the cold outside.

"Are you okay?" My mother asks for the millionth time, I only nod. I'm too tired to give anymore answers. The officer returns and ushers us to our room where I find, Ava sitting at a table with my father.

"What happens now?" Ava greets me.
"I'm not sure, really. I just want to go home." I tell her, removing my jacket.
She takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom and closes the door.
"I didn't mention you." I assure her, "Ava. . .You know they'll find you when they watch the footage. Just tell them."
She bites at her nails.
"I know, but I can't. I just can't go through that." She sighs.
"I put in my papers today at Turner." I sit down on the bathroom floor.
"That's too bad, I hope you can come back one day and finish. Open that studio like you talked about." She nudges my arm.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to come back. But you know, you could always come be a chef at the diner, Zens parents own." I force a laugh that's interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Clo, you'd better come see this." Zen says from the other side. I look to, Ava and stand. Outside the bathroom, in the living room area of the hotel suite a news anchor sounds from a huge TV. Averys smug smiling face is shown on the screen, "Turn it up, I can't hear her." I tell the security officer. As the neon green volume lines rise on the screen my stomach falls.

"Breaking news today in Manhattan," The woman reports, "as socialite, and heir to the multi million dollar fortune of Duncan Industries, Avery Duncan has been released on a $50,000 bond for the alleged kidnapping, and rape of a fellow student at Turner University. Police have yet to release any evidence regarding the assault, but a source has confirmed that the victim, Chloe Thomas from West Brooke Virginia is in fact pregnant with, Duncans unborn child. Stay tuned for this breaking story as it unravels."