"I'm going to go out there," Sylvia whispered to Quinn. She could feel Quinn's heavy breath on her shoulder as she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her body up against him in the small closet.

"Please don't, Sylve," Quinn begged, as they both heard loud screaming continuing from the kitchen.

"I don't hear Billy at all," Sylvia said, her eyes filling with hot tears. It was painful to breathe past the huge knot in her throat. "Something bad happened. I need to go out there."

Without thinking, she pulled the closet door open to reveal his dark room. She grabbed onto Quinn's shoulders, and although it was too dark for her to look at him in his eyes, she could feel his intense stare and she could feel his body shaking beneath her fingertips.

"Don't come after me. If I don't come back to you in ten minutes, then you can," Sylvia told him.

"No, please," Quinn pleaded, but Sylvia shook her head.

"I'm going to. Promise me you won't follow me," she whispered. "I need you to cooperate. We can get him out of here if you just stay behind."

"I p- I promise," Quinn said through a heavy swallow. His tone was practically vibrating. He was horrified. "I won't follow you."

Sylvia pressed her fingers against the metal doorknob, but before she could twist it, the door gently creaked open. Her heart pounded in confusion as Billy's mother slipped inside his room, jumping in fear when she noticed Sylvia standing right in front of her.

"Mrs. Miller?" Sylvia whispered, before his mother shushed her and closed the door shut.

"Sandra? Where did you go?" Frank suddenly bellowed through the house from a distance down the hallway.

"Get in the closet now," Mrs. Miller ushered both Quinn and Sylvia back inside, and she joined them, closing the closet door shut and leaning up against the wall.

Sylvia could feel Mrs. Miller's body trembling up against her. Her breaths were heavy and her palms were pressed against her lips as she sobbed against them.

"Mrs. Miller," Sylvia whispered. "What's happening?"

"I want to get better, Sylvia," his mother said in a frantic whisper. "Sylvia, I hate how I've been. My poor son, my poor son," she couldn't stop crying.

"Shhh," Sylvia said gently, trying to keep herself calm. "W-what happened to Billy?"

"If I make it out of here alive, Sylvia, mark my words... I'm taking Billy and we're getting the H-Hell away from- from this monster," she sniffled, and Sylvia stiffened as Mrs. Miller suddenly tossed her arms around her. "I'm getting clean. I'm making a better life for Billy. I'm not going to do drugs or drink anymore, I'm done."

The fact that she mentioned taking Billy immediately relieved Sylvia - that must have meant he was at least still alive.

"It's- it's okay," Sylvia whispered, rubbing Mrs. Miller's back softly.

"I want to get better," Mrs. Miller cried into Sylvia's shirt, and Sylvia nodded.

"You're going to get better, you're going to," Sylvia whispered. "I know you will for Billy."

"Frank is on a total rampage. I- I've never seen him this bad. Him and Billy, they got in a bad- a bad fight and... oh my God, Sylvia, I don't know what - what to do," his mother spoke frantically, choking on her words with a sob every few seconds.

"I'm going to go out there, and I promise you that I will help you both get out of here," Sylvia told her. Again, she couldn't see in the dark room, but she was threading her fingers through Mrs. Miller's soft hair and holding her tightly. "Do you understand? You're getting out of here."

"It's not a good idea, it's - it's not," Mrs. Miller said. "It's not. Please, Sylvia, don't."

"I'm going to," she said. "Nothing is going to stop me, I'm sorry."

"Sylvia, I agree with Mrs. Miller," Quinn chimed in for the first time in several minutes. "We- we're not going to get anywhere if you get hurt too."

"He has a gun," Mrs. Miller told her. "He's dangerous, more dangerous than you think."

"Sylvia, don't," Quinn begged again.

"Billy's out there, Quinn. Is Billy alive?" Sylvia asked, gripping onto Mrs. Miller's shoulders. "Please, tell me he's alive. Please."

"He is," she answered meekly. "Why can't I protect him? I'm so weak. I'm so, so weak."

Sylvia sighed in instant relief and she pulled herself away from Mrs. Miller.

"I'll be right back," she said, as she pushed the closet door open.

She could hear Quinn and Mrs. Miller pleading for her not to continue her plan in a panic, but she ignored them.

*

Sylvia didn't feel fear - she was determined to save Billy and get him and his mother away from Frank. Her heart was pounding in her chest, slamming against her ribcage at a rapid pace as she pulled Billy's bedroom door open slowly.

She peeked over from the side of the door and into the hallway, which was lit up. There was not a sound in the house.

She stepped out of Billy's room and creaked the door shut, as she proceeded to pad down the hallway.

She stopped when she approached the bathroom, where the door was nearly shut. There was banging, and groaning, and the mumbling of a deep voice which she could only interpret as Frank's. Also, water was running in the bathtub.

Sylvia pressed her eye to the open slit of the doorway and looked in to find Frank holding Billy's head under the tub water, their backs facing her. Billy was struggling, his arms flailing and slamming against the side of the tub, he even hit Frank in the face a few times, but to no avail. Frank's grip was hard on Billy's neck.

Billy's shirt was off, and all she could see was his back from where she was standing. He was exceptionally thin, as she could see his spine and a few ribs protruding from his flesh. There were large, circular bruises all along his side, near his spine, and on his shoulders.

She spotted Frank's gun on the floor.

Tears instantly flew from Sylvia's eyes. She was fuming, practically seeing red. Her fists were curled up at her sides as she pushed the bathroom door open.

She couldn't see through her tears nor could she hear through the ringing blaring through both of her ears but she proceeded to walk into the bathroom.

Billy stopped struggling and fell limp against the bathtub, just as Sylvia quickly grabbed Frank's gun from the bathroom floor and knelt down from behind him, pressing the object up against his neck.

Frank jumped and released Billy from his grip, where Billy instantly fell to the ground, his soaking wet hair falling around his face as he lay completely unresponsive on the floor.

"Fuck you," Sylvia spat, lodging the barrel of the gun further against Frank's flesh. "Fuck you, you sick, disgusting pig."

A smile crept onto Frank's lips as his dark eyes stared into Sylvia's.

"Oh, honey," he grinned. "You're sexy when you're mad."

Sylvia couldn't stop shaking. Her hands were uncontrollably trembling as she slid her finger against the trigger of the gun. She was trying desperately to mentally prepare herself for the sound of the gunshot, the splatter of blood, the feeling of taking a life. But this wasn't just any life - this was a disgusting, horrible, repulsive life that she was removing from the world to do her best friend a favor.

"This is for everything you've put Billy through," Sylvia said, her voice gravelly as tears slipped down her cheeks.

She pulled the trigger.

But nothing happened.

It made a clicking sound, but Frank was still alive, and he was laughing.

"There's no bullets in it yet, dumb bitch," Frank chuckled, before he grabbed onto her neck and practically threw her into the bathroom wall.

Sylvia tried so hard to pry his fingertips off of her skin, but his strength was unimaginable. Tears were rushing down her face at this point, and she was screaming loudly, but no sound was escaping her lips.

His eyes seemed pitch black in the dim lighting of the bathroom. They were sparkling while he bared his teeth, his straight, white teeth. He was a devil inside the skin of a handsome man. Frank was loved by everyone who didn't know the real him.

And as he was pulling Sylvia's pants down, she kicked her legs at his thighs and did everything she possibly could to stop him.

She spit in his face, and watched the white, bubbling saliva trickle down from his cheekbone to his upper lip.

He paused his actions and narrowed his eyes at her, and she knew she struck a nerve.

He kicked her stomach so hard, the wind was knocked out of her. He screamed and cursed at her, profanities and insults, but she couldn't hear as the blinding white vision threw her senses off. She felt his fingers wrap around her neck as he forcefully slammed her head against the side of the tub.

The pain branched out across her skull. It blurred her vision as well as her ability to think. He continued to kick her, over and over, in her stomach and ribs. She couldn't feel pain anymore, watching his foot lift up and slam into her body, the room spinning on its axis.

She pretended she had been knocked out.

Her eyes were closed and she threw her head back. She knew that her plan worked when he stopped kicking her ribs, and instead, pulled her by her legs out into the center of the bathroom.

She didn't know whether she should bother fighting back anymore. He was clearly way stronger than she could ever imagine. Maybe she just needed to accept that Frank was going to end up having his way with her, as she pretended to be unconscious in order to save herself from internal bleeding.

He started to pull at her waistband again, laughing under his breath.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop herself from crying. This was it. It was going to happen. She was too weak to stop it.

Until he was interrupted.

"Let go of her!" Mrs. Miller's voice sounded from the doorway, and Sylvia opened her eyes to slits as she watched Mrs. Miller tremble in fear. "You fucking prick! You are sick!"

Mrs. Miller suddenly let out a loud, blood-curdling scream as she bolted away from the door. Frank stood up and sprinted after her, not forgetting to bring the gun with him.

Sylvia used this opportunity to try and stand up, but her stomach was stinging, and she felt like she was going to vomit. She ignored the feeling as she weakly moved over to Billy, who was still unconscious.

Much to her surprise, Quinn ran into the bathroom several minutes after Frank left, closing the door behind him and panting for air.

"Sylvia, oh my God, are you okay?" he said through heavy breaths, before he looked over at Billy too. "He beat you?"

Sylvia nodded. "Billy was drowned," Sylvia managed to explain as Quinn knelt beside Billy.

Quinn felt his pulse and listened for his heart, before he started to perform CPR. Sylvia watched in fear, wondering how Quinn managed to run into the bathroom without being seen, and also, wondering where Mrs. Miller and Frank went. She hoped that Frank wouldn't enter the bathroom again.

"Please, Billy, come on," Quinn begged under his breath as he continued to press against his chest. "Come on."

"Where's Frank and Billy's mom?" Sylvia said, her voice hardly coming out.

Quinn pressed against Billy's chest again before breathing into his mouth. When he came back up to continue chest compressions, he took a deep breath.

"Mrs. Miller ran upstairs," - another breath into Billy's mouth - "We don't have much time, my phone is dead," - another breath - "my aunt lives around the corner, we can bring him to her until the ambulance comes."

"I'm gonna be sick," Sylvia told him, before she leaned over and threw up onto the floor. She couldn't stop heaving, her stomach was twisting and yellow bile mixed with blood spilled from her mouth.

When she finally stopped vomiting, she looked over to find Quinn still performing CPR. He was growing increasingly helpless by the second, with sweat beading down the sides of his forehead.

Until suddenly, the CPR worked. Billy coughed and spit water out of his mouth all over himself. He wouldn't stop coughing and gagging. Sylvia looked over his face to find it completely mangled - blood was pouring out of a gash above his eyebrow and mixing with water droplets.

"Billy, fuck, thank God," Quinn sighed in relief, as Sylvia reached down to wrap her arms around Billy. Every time she made a movement, a sharp pain stabbed at her stomach and rib cage.

Billy was extremely weak and out of it.

"What's your name?" Quinn asked him. "Hey, what's your name?"

Billy stared up at Quinn, and Sylvia watched him grip onto Quinn's shirt before his eyes closed.

"How are we gonna get out of here?" Sylvia asked weakly. "He needs medical attention."

Quinn slid his hand beneath Billy's head and held it up as he spit more water out.

"The window?" Quinn suggested, as he looked over to the open window which let in a cool night breeze right above their heads.

*

Quinn and Sylvia walked Billy down the street, holding him up with both of his arms slinked around their necks. It wasn't easy, but they made it to Quinn's aunt's small house, and Quinn knocked frantically on the front door.

Billy gagged, spitting onto the floor of the porch they were standing on as a string of blood fell from his lips to the wooden floor. His knees buckled and he almost fell to the ground, but both Quinn and Sylvia bent their knees to help him stay standing.

"Oh, God," Quinn cried out before he slammed his fist against the door again. "Aunt Margie! It's Quinn!" he screamed against the door. "Help, please!"

It was nearly five A.M., and Sylvia was losing hope that his aunt was going to answer the door. She kept looking back over her shoulder, expecting to see Helen, or maybe even Frank running after them, but there was nothing but a desolite street.

Finally, the door swung open.

"Do you know what time it is?" his Aunt Margie said, clad in a nightgown as she paused and stared at the sight in front of her. "What in the hell is going on?"

"Aunt Margie, I'll explain in a second, but I need to use your phone," Quinn spoke in a panic, before the three of them stepped into the warm house.

Sylvia's stomach was in so much pain, she was doubled over. Aunt Margie substituted for Quinn when Quinn left to use her phone, and she helped Sylvia lead Billy towards the couch just beside the front door.

"What is going on? This boy needs the hospital," Aunt Margie said, before she looked over at Sylvia. "You look like you need it too. What happened to you guys?"

Sylvia sat beside Billy on the couch and wrapped her arms around him, allowing his forehead to rest on her chest as she listened to his labored breathing.

"It's a r-really long story," Sylvia said, and each word she said was accompanied by a wave of nausea. "My - my stomach hurts."

Aunt Margie left the room for a second, and tears slid down Sylvia's cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Billy," she said gently, as she leaned down to kiss his bloody forehead. "I'm so sorry."

He was passed out on her chest. She ran her fingers through his shoulder-length, sopping blonde hair as she allowed a few sobs to escape her lips.

Aunt Margie came back with a first aid kit and two water bottles. She handed one to Sylvia, and Sylvia tried to drink as much as she could of it without throwing up.

"Quinn, you better explain yourself right now," Aunt Margie said, as she pulled Billy to an upright position and began pressing alcohol soaked towelettes against his wounds. She noticed Billy groaning under his breath, and she gently shushed him. "Sweetheart, he's getting the police on the phone right now. Stay with me."

Quinn came back into the room and began pacing as he explained the situation. Sylvia tuned out. She felt like she was going to die. Her stomach was in so much pain, and she couldn't take a deep breath without a sharp, shooting pain running up her ribs.

"I'm going to just... I'm going to take a nap," Sylvia told Quinn and Aunt Margie, resting her head on the arm of the couch.

"Quinn, don't let that girl fall asleep," Aunt Margie instructed, her voice electrified with urgency as Quinn rushed over to Sylvia.

"Sylvia, wake up right now," Quinn said, shaking her shoulders.

But Sylvia closed her eyes and ignored him.