The sun had completely set as soon as Rosemary sprinted outside. The moon soon rose, peeking out behind the thick grey puffs of cloud. The rain grew harder and faster, the water harshly slapping Rosemary in the face, disguising her tears. The once gentle breeze now felt like freezing knives piercing every inch of skin on her body. By now, it was cold. The coldest night of the season.

Rosemary's sobs turned into sharp and shaky gasps for air. She could almost feel Russell's strong fist colliding with her cheek. She could almost see his and that girl, Kelly's icy smirks. She could feel their spine-chilling eyes burning into the back of her head as she ran out of the bedroom.

Things weren't supposed to turn out this way. Rosemary wasn't supposed to watch Russell snogging another girl. She wasn't supposed to feel him throw a punch right at her without a care in the world. She wasn't supposed to be out in the streets, running further and further away from Russell's home, alone at night.

She wasn't supposed to lose Russell the same way she lost Davy.

Then she realized something.

Russell didn't give a damn. He didn't care about Rosemary's feelings. He didn't think there was a problem in kissing another girl behind her back. He thought it was ok to let her slip away through his fingers. Thought it was fine to hit her ruthlessly and throwing her out minutes later. Russell just didn't care. He didn't love Rosemary anymore. She meant nothing to him.

But Davy was different. After Rosemary had caught him kissing that girl, he was in hysterics and tears. He had begged her to stay with him. He had told her that he truly did love her. He was willing to do anything to change just for her. He had tried everything within his power to get her to stay with him. He had felt guilty for what he had done. He did something that Russell didn't bother doing. He tried.

Still, Rosemary couldn't bring herself to forgive him, however. She was too defensive and sensitive. For her, it takes a lot more than an apology in order for her to forgive him. But she appreciated what he had that Russell didn't have. A heart. He had a heart. She at least believed that he was truly sorry for what he had done.

Rosemary slowed down once she found herself in an alleyway. She bent down, placed her hands over her knees, and gasped for breath. Through all of the thoughts about Russell and Davy, she didn't realize she was running for so long. Her whole figure shook tremendously. Her eyes were wide and pooling with fresh hot tears. The bag that contained some of her clothes hung loosely on her arm. She closed her eyes. She had never ran so much in her life.

"Well, well, well," a voice chuckled behind her. "Look what we have here, boys."

Rosemary froze. Slowly, she turned on her heel, where she spotted three men dressed messily in leather jackets and torn-up jeans. Their hair contained way too much gel. The one in the middle was smoking heavily on a cigarette. The other two had their arms folded, acting as bodyguards.

"We have company, boys," the one smoking smiled.

He approached Rosemary, and his two friends followed closely behind with smirks etched upon their faces. Rosemary backed away in fear.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" the smoking boy cooed. "Have a bad night?"

Rosemary didn't respond.

"Cat got your tongue? Hm?" the one on the right snickered.

"Don't worry, princess," the smoking one, whom Rosemary guessed to be the leader, said softly. "We'll show you a good time. How does that sound?"

Rosemary choked on her own breath. "I... no," she croaked, her voice scratched and torn from crying and running.

"Come on," the leader snaked his arms around Rosemary's waist. She stiffened. "We won't disappoint."

His grip on her tightened when she started to scream and pound on his chest.

"Stop it! Leave me alone!" she shrieked.

"Hold still!" the leader hissed.

He smashed his lips upon hers, and not very gently either. The kiss only got deeper, and all Rosemary could do was try to push him away. Once he did pull away, however, his hands started going down her thighs.

Rosemary, horrified, sucked up the last bit of saliva she could gather in her mouth and spat it all over his face. The leader let out a disgusted growl and shoved her away. Out of instinct, she swung her arm right at him and hit him square in the nose. He screeched out a howl of pain and stumbled back, holding his bleeding nose.

Rosemary made to run, but one of the men grasped her arms with a sturdy grip and brought her up to his face.

"You need to learn how to behave, princess," he said in a dangerously low voice.

He pushed her away, making her collapse into the arms of the next man. The man slapped her across the face, creating a burning sensation to tingle along her cheek. She let out a small sob.

Without uttering a single word, the man pushed her back to the leader. Her chest collided with his. The leader's face was plastered with his own blood thanks to Rosemary's punch. He looked far from happy. He pushed her against the brick wall of a building, locked his fingers around her neck, and squeezed down on her windpipe.

"Can you breathe?" he growled into her ear. "How does it feel? Are your lungs burning? Hm?"

They were. She could feel them. Her lungs were practically screaming. They were on fire. It was utterly painful.

"You just had to do it, huh?" the leader barked, spit flying from his mouth. "You had to fight it. This could've been done the easy way, but no! You're too stubborn, god damn it!"

Rosemary was becoming limp in his arms. She weakly clawed at his hands, completely breathless. I just had to run to an alleyway, didn't I? Stupid.

Just when she thought she would black out, a sudden rush of air gradually filled her lungs. She fell to her knees and coughed at the harsh air moving so suddenly in her body.

"Get out of here, you bastards! Go!" a familiar voice shouted angrily. Rosemary felt relief shiver through her. She knew that Texan twang anywhere.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the leader's voice wailed.

"Come on! Let's go!"

There were hurried footsteps stomping on the cobblestone streets, and soon they faded away. Rosemary felt a pair of hands lift her up. She looked up and found herself gazing into the eyes of Mike Nesmith.

"Are there more?" he yelled over the loud crashing of the rain freely falling to the streets. He glanced around in every known direction, cautious of his surroundings.

Rosemary shook her head, suddenly forgetting how to speak.

"What're you doing out here?" Mike demanded. "It's late! You could've been killed!"

"R-Russell... he... Kelly... kissing... I saw..." Rosemary toppled over her own words hopelessly and shakily.

"Come on," Mike lead her down the road. "I'll take you home. What's your-"

"No!" Rosemary gasped. "No, don't!"

Mike jumped, startled. "Huh?"

"Don't take me back!" Rosemary pleaded as fresh tears swam down her cheeks. "Please don't! H-he'll hurt me again!"

"He? Again?" Mike stared at her. "You're not talking about Russell, are you?"

"He hit me!" Rosemary sobbed uncontrollably. "He was with a-another girl... and then h-he hit me... in the face."

Mike's surprise expression quickly turned to anger. "That son of a... I ought to kick his ass!" he said angrily.

"Michael!" Rosemary cried. "Don't! I-I don't want to go back! Please d-don't take me back! Please!"

"You're not going back, Rose," Mike breathed heavily. "You're coming home with me."

"W-what?" By now, Rosemary's teeth were chattering. She was soaked to the bone. "No, M-Mike I couldn't."

"Rose, I didn't give you a choice," Mike said gently. "I'm not taking no for an answer either. Now come on. You're freezing."

There was no point in arguing. Mike placed a protective arm over her shoulder and lead her towards his home. Home where The Monkees were. To the pad.

Where Davy was.