Pain changes you. I haven't touched a paint brush in week's, I seem to just stare at my stack of fresh canvas; stuggling  to pick up the brush, to touch the feathery bristles into sticky paint. Feel the light weight of the brush become heavy as I push and drag it along a canvas. What could I paint? I imagine my whimsical, and free spirited work morphing into a grunged, and gritty mess; crying out in anguish when my hand refuses to steady, losing control. Breaking the canvas over my knee, slinging the broken pieces around the room.

I can no longer hang on to what I loved, my art will never be the same; when I close my eye's I see him. Even in my wake. I tell myself these thing's, over and over as my head bang's into the gruesome step's that lead to the basement. They creak under his heavy footing. I hear my body sliding inch by inch toward the mattress. I can't move; my body has frozen, I'm paralyzed. Fear, along with the wish of death seep's into me like an old enemy. Drowning me in tear's that I can't blink away out of spite.

As, Avery cuff's my wrist's and ankles with familiar chain's I daydream of my funeral. I take myself elsewhere, anywhere but this horrid place. I imagine my friend's and family hovering over my corpes inside a casket. My red eyed father standing at a podium, speaking of our cherished memories, stopping after every sentence written on crumpled paper to weep while he clenches his white knuckles around the edge of the wood. In my self inducing numbness I look to, Avery. In his hand is the lighter. Glowing under pale light like a villian; Keeper Of Sin.

He face twist's as he shoot's from his chair to my face. I drown out his word's, his voice steam's over my skin. I feel a sting of pain between my eye's, followed by, Avery's toxic lip's. He's everywhere; his hand's. . .They're everywhere. Just kill me. Get on with it. Surrendering to his touch is all I can do. My worthless attempt to scream doesn't make it past my throat, all I can manage to trudge up is a pathetic gurgle in my throat. The warmth flooding from my eye's puddle inside my ear's, partially closing off my hearing as a pain, sharp as a razor sink's into my hip.

It's excruciating, the tips of his teeth rip my skin. Just when I'm sure he'll chomp a chunk of me away he's gone. The pain linger's, the sound of a crack. Then another, something thud's at my feet. There's a shadow, I feel eye's on me; then I hear it.

Out of sight, is the sound of crying. Angry smashing like  metal on stone with emotional wailing. Warmth cup's my cheek's. Zen's crumpled, and puffy eye's leak onto my face.
"Chloe!?" He shake's me, "Can you hear me?" He cries releasing my restraint's. I want to throw myself into his arm's and stay there, but my body refuses to move. Zen return's, wrapping me in a dirty blanket. He cradles my dead weight in his arm's, carrying me up the step's. My mind fog's like my breath outside as siren's come closer.

As my soaked ear rest's against, Zen's chest his heart pound's like a drum. Racing in unison with flashes of blue and red at the corner of my blurred vision.
"We'll take it from here, sir." A woman's voice sounds. My slank limb's hang like soggy leaves from the arm's that hold me.
"Chloe, oh my god! Chloe!" I hear, Ava's voice. Sweet, and panicked as the pressure of multiple hand's retrieve me from my rescuer and onto a gurney. Ava's voice follow's me into the ambulance. Her hand clasps around mine, Zen's on the other side.

"Ma'am, can you hear me?" The EMT question's, shining a skinny flashlight into my dead eye's, "Can you tell me what happened?" She ask's. A moan travel's to my throat, "A-a-avery." I manage to force to my lip's, so quite that only I can hear it.
"She was attacked," Zen tell's the woman, "Avery. Avery Duncan done this." He growls through gritted teeth into my cupped hand. He holds it tight in his grasp, keeping my finger's bent against his since I can't grip. The gurney slide's an inch as the speeding ambulance make's a hard turn.
"Next of kin?" The EMT ask's, Zen.
"I'll call her parent's myself." He tell's her.
"Chloe, I'm right here sweetie." Ava sniff's, "I'm right here."

I can only imagine how I must look; nude, my swollen marked skin, the obvious hand print around my throat, the inability to blink away my wet eye's. You're safe, it's over. He's done. I try to tell myself. Something hot soak's between my leg's, "She's bleeding!" Ava cries out. The dirty blanket is pulled away by the EMT, "Ma'am! Can you hear me? Are you pregnant? Can you nod, blink, please I need to know now." Her worried voice, stern and all business.
"Yes." Zen say's, "She's only a few week's along." His voice break's into pieces.
"What?" Ava's voice mirror's Zen's, "She's pregnant, who are you?" She lean's to me, rubbing the top of my head, "Why didn't you tell me, Clo? Why?" She weep's into my hair.

My mouth stay's slank, as do the muscles in my face while I turn my eye's to her. The tear's won't stop falling, I fight it. Digging as far into my depth's as I can I strain; finally. . .I blink.

Tile's, push up and hide something tile's zoom past my face as I'm wheeled through the hospital. Zen and, Ava hustle alongside doctor's and nurses down the white hallway. I see their face's from below, hurrying and spitting out medical term's.
"Sir, Ma'am you'll have to wait in the waiting room." A nurse stop's them in their haste to see me through to recovery.

"We're right here, Clo!" Ava yell's before two swinging door's close, seperating us.

                                                                                               ***

My eye's creak open like an old screen door that catches in the door jam. I blink. My vision is blurry, but I remember. I remember everything.
"She's awake!" I hear my mother say, "Clo, sweetie? Can you hear me?" She touches my shoulder.
"Mom?" I croak. Her face swell's my heart with safety, "Where's dad?" I look around the hospital room.
"He's outside talking with the police." She answer's. The impact of the thruth spilling into my parent's destroy's me. I cry. . .again. Sobbing, shoulder shaking, head bowed sobbing.
"Mom  I'm sorry." I cry as she shushes, shaking her head.
"No. Listen to me, Chloe. This isn't your fault." She hold's my face, "You don't have to talk about it, Zen told us everything sweetie." She hug's into me, and stroke's my hair like she had when I was a child, affraid of thunder crashing outside my window at night.

Embarrassed and drained I let her hold me, soothing me, chasing away the boogie man. She rest's her hand's at arm's length on my shoulder's. "We will fight this. No force on Earth can keep us from taking this guy down. He's in custody now, he'll sit in a cell until trial." She wipes away a tear drop as, Zen walk's through the door, holding roses. She stand's to greet him with a warm hug.

"I'll give you a minute." My mother say's closing the door as she leaves. Zen stand's at the foot of the hospital bed, one hand in his pocket, the other  holding the flower's wrapped in a pink plastic film, secured with a red bow.

"How'd you find me?" I take the roses, and inhale their sweet perfume.
"I never left the city." He sit's on the edge of the bed, "I couldn't leave you here with him. So I stayed, followed him following you. I wanted to protect you, but I was almost too late. I fell asleep last night sitting on the sidewalk across from your dorm. I woke up to screaming tire's, and seen him speed off in a car with you in the passenger seat. My bike could barely keep up with the speed of the car. I found it parked outside a rundown building, so I picked the lock; I searched the entire place until I heard moaning from behind a door. It was unlocked so I crept down these stair's. Then I seen you. You were. . . held down with chain's, and he was biting you. I seen red. I didn't even know I had picked up a brick until I hit him with it."

The room fall's silent. Only the beeping of my heart rate rising on a machine is heard.
"The baby?" I ask.
"It's still there," Zen drop's his head, "The doctor say's you were dosed with chloroform and that when you went into shock the placenta ripped away a little, causing you to bleed." I touch my hand to my slowly swelling belly, pondering the trauma this child will see should I keep it.

He hasn't slept, I can tell by the darkening under his eye's. I slide to the side and allow him to lie behind me in a spooning manner. His arm hold's around me, protecting me, wrapping me in a blanket of muscle.

"Zen. . ?"
"Yeah?"
"I want to go home." I whisper, tangling my finger's into his.