

BREATHE

CJ KROSS

Copyright 2012; 2015 CJ KROSS

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Also by CJ Kross:

Heavy Traffick

ISO: Talitha (Spring 2016)

ISO: Emily Riley (Summer 2016)

Also by Eclectic Press:

Ashley Oaks:

All Summer Long (December 2015)

Like You (December 2016)

He sat on the edge of the bleachers and did his homework with due diligence. He sat in the gymnasium of his high school. Most of his peers practiced basketball. They lived in a state, which valued basketball. They played basketball before the school year started though they did it under the guise of basketball camps. Every other state had soccer and volleyball tryouts. This state was already beyond the conditioning phase of practice for a sport that did not start for another couple of months. Those who were not committed to the sport were dissuaded and did not try out because they wanted to have their whole summer. For those who tried out, basketball was everything in their world. He wore an ugly short sleeve collared twill blend shirt that zipped from the sternum up to his Adam's apple but he only zipped it half way. He wore black pants, white socks and Nike basketball shoes which in any other setting would be a fashion no-no but at this particular school, with a particular dress code, this was fashionable allowed most of the time. His hair was cut short on top and buzzed on the sides. He used a lot of gel and kept it wet and kept a couple strands in the front stuck up in the front. He applied extra gel and weighed his cowlick down in the back.

The air had a stale salty summer sweaty teenage boy smell because the gym lacked proper ventilation for such teenage boys who practiced basketball. A hint of sweaty gyms sock and stale cheese doodles was mixed into the air. It only seemed commonplace for anyone who frequents a high school basketball court during basketball season.

He gave the impression that he cared about his homework. However, he was deep in his own thoughts with his chewed on pencil in his hand. The pencil was directed toward the paper, but gave the impression he did his homework. However, he doodled.

"They are so hypocritical," he thought. "If only they saw beyond the superficial things and they did not make me feel like I had to try so hard to become accepted by them. I'm not considered as good as them and for what? I'm a decent guy, and I look good... I have the same moral standards as they have... I'm a perfect gentleman. I hold the door for women and let them have my seat if there is none available to them. I work just as hard as everyone else does at what I do. Even in basketball, I'm pretty good... even though I only play on the junior varsity team. I pray to the same God they do and I am as studious as anybody is when it comes to the Bible. I know things when it comes to the Bible and I can recite them well. I just don't get it.

"C'mon Jeff. Do it right," the coach said. He yelled everything and interrupted anyone who may be deep in thought or studying. "See the floor Jeff. Run the play through, look for the open man and see the floor. If a play doesn't develop, kick the ball back to the top and run it again. Just like I've said before, practice doesn't make perfect and it doesn't make you better. Perfect practice makes perfect and if you don't do it right, as the point guard, the rest of the team can't do it right. Give me a suicide, Jeff, and if you don't do it under sixty seconds the whole team runs a suicide." He ended his lecture with a whistle blow as everyone watched Jeff run his suicide drill. "Heh," he laughed out loud. He continued with his thoughts, "Perfect practice makes perfect. We're all on the same playing field when it comes to perfection, because none of us is perfect. Yet, everyone looks at me as if I am different. They won't accept me. I don't know what to do. Will I ever have any true friends who understand me and accept me for who I am? I have a lot of acquaintances, some, whom I can count on more than others, but none who fulfils the criteria of a true friend. "Joanna always tells me that even if I don't think that anyone is my friend that Jesus is my friend. Yes, Jesus is my friend. Jesus is my only friend. That makes me think of the Apostle Paul. Paul said in Philippians 1:21, 'to live is Christ, but to die is gain, yet what I shall choose I do not know.' It's the way I feel. To live is Christ but to die is gain. Because I know if I die, I'll be with Him. Since He is my only friend and Joanna says that I shouldn't complain. Then why shouldn't I be with Him? Surely, I wouldn't complain then if I were in heaven, would I? Oh, I'm so lonely God, I need friends, but since these Christians are too good for me then I want to die. God I need to die, just take me now... take me from this world. God, Christians make me so angry. They have killed my spirit. In addition, they have killed my body. If it weren't for them, I would have the will to live. I don't even want to live because of them. They have killed my spirit thus killing me. 'Thou shalt not kill it...' it says that right in Exodus. Yet, they have killed me, God. You're word clearly says to take an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. God, whatever I do it's for You. It's for their good anyway. "They can't kill again if there life is taken. It's just capital punishment. Yet, I can't allow them to live a life and never have experienced true love. A love that I know that I can show them and a love that they need to know I can show them. I can show them true love! "See God, I have had my eye on Kara. She's gorgeous and she's nice. She's the one for me, God. It's too bad she doesn't know it yet but I will tell her. Okay, I have loved before, but they did not work out. They wouldn't feel the same kind of love that I felt for them so I had to end it since they couldn't see my love pouring out for them. They couldn't see that I really wanted the best for them. Then I realized that by ending it, that was a better option for everyone. "But, God, Kara is so different. She's the one for sure. She's working today. I'll go see her at work. I'll let her know how I feel and she'll feel a love like she's never known before. I know she will. She's never felt the way she's going to feel tonight. I just know it. Oh, but God, I can't take another rejection. I know it will happen because I'm too good for her. She doesn't deserve any of my love but I'm going to try to give it to her anyway. "God, she's so incredibly beautiful. Her gray eyes and her glorious brown curled hair that accents her face of innocence. She's the one for me. She has to be. I've had my eye on her. I have to see her at the mall today God. Oh, I just have to see her.

"Hey, man... hey," someone said. The words disrupted him from his lackadaisical state of mind.

"Huh? Hey what's up?" he asked, startled to real time.

"Hey, you wanna go with us, we're going to Dan's house to get something to eat. Do you wanna go?" Jeff asked.

"Naw, man, I've gotta go over to the mall to run an errand. But thanks for the offer, anyway."

"Why'd you wait so long if you weren't going to do something with us? Man, you're such a weirdo."

"Sorry, it just came up." He stood up to his full, lanky height of 6 feet tall. He stood for a second, then stretched, and picked up his book bag. He put his homework away. He yawned and then headed toward the gymnasiums exit. It was very bright outside so he squinted as he walked towards his car, which was backed into its spot along the wooded lot that bordered the schools property.

He unlocked the door, turned the engine on, and put the air conditioning on full blast. He turned his radio up loud. He exited the school parking lot. It was his favourite song. It described his emotions. How nobody knew him and nobody would know him. He knew that even if he could prove his love the way he knew it, Kara would only now learn about him and would not understand him. It's not like she had a secret crush on him. He had the crush on her and she had no clue that he or his emotions existed. It might appear awkward to him and to Kara. If she found out he liked her, and turned him down it would humiliate him. She might know something about him or find out about him from her friends, whether true or imagined. And they would say things about him that would be all prejudice statements just because they thought they knew who he was. It was not that she knew him personally, but as far as he was concerned, in the end it did not matter how he felt about her anyway, so he figured he would go all the way and reach for the stars. He wanted her to feel the way he felt about her from the beginning and especially since no one else gave him the chance, he had nothing to lose. His emotions raged inside him. He was sad for himself because of the current rejection from his peers. Yet, he was confident in himself as a person who was normal and had something to offer other people. And he knew if he was right in the way of his thought processes and he knew women should respect him more as a person then things would be much better.

To the girls of his school, he followed them around. It was coincidental because the ratio of girls to boys at his school was 4-1. The odds were in his favour to be always around a girl, whether a cognitive choice or not.

He never talked to any of the girls on the girls' basketball team; he looked. He felt very shy around them despite his confidence but he was blind to his own shyness. He would say "hi" but he would not say anything else and blamed them because they were too stuck up.

He put up a personal front of confidence. Inside he was insecure and hurt. He was angry and bitter towards people in his school. They looked down on him as less of a person than them. He didn't exist to them and he became him bitter. That was his downfall and his weakness. His bitterness fuelled his low self esteem and he looked down on himself as a person, despite of his front of confidence.

He raged and hurt. The hurt was understandable but the rage his mismanagement of how he dealt with the hurt. The hurt was in conflict with his confidence, which made the hurt much stronger. His veins were made of glass and in his anger pulsated through his veins. The glass escaped his body. In his mind, the physical pain excruciated but better than the physical toll he allowed.

In his hurt and in his rage, he drove to the mall followed through with what he set in his mind. He expressed his affection towards Kara and there was nothing else on his mind at this juncture and nothing would stop him until he had completed his personal mission.

He did the will of God. He followed God's will to the end. He was true Acolyte.

This is the beginning of the story of his mission and the resounding impact it had for a long time for what was about to follow changed many lives far beyond his own.

Chapter One

Suburban Atlanta tucked in for the night. They watched Braves in bottom of the seventh inning. The fans prayed the thunderheads would hold off a little longer. Deep into Gwinnet County, people did not worry. Not like they did in DeKalb and Fulton County. Not like they did further south towards Macon.

Kara Foster held no exceptions. Private school. Dad worked hard so mom was always home. Popular. Athletic. Pretty. She did not cut her hair. She did not use make up. She did not have to use lotions or moisturizers. She came out of the box beautiful. She had no worries in her life. She did not work hard for anything. Everything she asked for she received. All she worried about was breathing. She did not think about it. It came with no effort.

Kara approached a bank of doors and glanced back. The mall was empty except the smell of movie theater butter and Taylor Swift's voice sang about short skirts and tee shirts.

Kara leaned her into the door of the first set, and pulled her bags through. She pushed harder through the second set because of a suction created from the outside. She pressed her way through the door and the last push of summer heat blasted her.

Four guys came towards the doors and she let it go. "Movie theater still open?" one of them asked.

"I do not know, I think so. Smells like it," she said. She continued her march towards her car.

Kara brushed her kinky brown hair behind her left ear, and bit her lower lip. She shuffled through the soft-lit parking lot. She spotted the family minivan all alone.

Her eyes darted to a lineup of old unused pay phoneless booths, and increased her pace. Beyond the undeveloped lot, came the faint sound of the 10 o'clock train. It ran late per usual.

The August Atlanta air was thick with moisture. Kara noticed balls of perspiration formed on the small of her back, and from temple to temple across forehead.

A cool breeze blew Kara's curls from her face. The pit in her stomach, an accurate barometer, indicated a thunderstorm brewed. The sweet smell assailed her nostrils confirmed it. Pollen and dust burned her sinuses.

Another westward gust chilled Kara. She glanced and the reflection of city lights off the cumulonimbus clouds. The clouds slid in and covered the starry sky. "Breathe." She talked her way through her childhood fear.

Her feet smoldered. The car seemed no closer.

Kara retrieved her keys and pressed the blue button on the grey fob. The lights flashed once and the engine started and idled. A cool blast beckoned. She mashed the blue button the locks popped and the lights flashed. Nearer she pushed yet another button and it opened the sliding door on the driver side of the van so she could throw her gym bag and purse into the back of the van, hop into the front, and be on her way home.

The door slid open, the radio blared. It filled the parking lot with the sound "Toes". "Toes" faded into "Hey, White Liar".

"Finally", she sighed. She lobbed her sports bag.

The storm ensued, sucked wind inward towards it, and strengthened it. The wind gathered with it, dust, attached box elder leaves and paper bags, which resembled a postmodern tumble weed. The paper bag rambled through the empty mall parking lot. The bag made a few stops before its final place of rest underneath the rear, passenger side tire of the one vehicle that remained.

The vehicle belonged to Kara Foster's parents. Kara used it while her car remained in the shop.

Kara's diamond blue eyes were winced shut. The intensity of post virgin pain flashed like a bright light across her vision. Her supple flesh was torn and her body lay limp.

"Breathe," she whispered and she coached herself into survival.

Scared and in pain, Kara grit her teeth and crumpled her eyes shut. The beat of the rain against the asphalt drowned Kara's whimper. The leaves wrestled in the box elder trees and drowned her cries.

He had redressed himself. Like a Mantoux test, it ended before it started.

He released the shoulder harness, and let Kara's weakened arms fall free. He let the strap go so he could adjust it. The Acolyte pulled the seat belt and wrapped it around Kara's throat. He pulled it tight. He asphyxiated Kara.

He pulled tight.

She whispered a cack. Her eyes bugged out and her tongue revolted from her mouth.

He stopped.

She honked and her esophagus opened. She inhaled a raspy cough.

He pulled tight again.

Gulk. An involuntary tear spurted from her right eye. Her eyes burned red.

Release.

Gack. She barked like a retriever. Her head ached and spun.

He toyed with her for a few minutes more. Please, kill me and release me from my agony.

Like purgatory did not know if she would live or die. She prayed either one or the other would happen.

He let go of the seatbelt and let Kara hang, and strangle herself under her own weight. Her mouth left open, a gaping hole.

She cackled. Breathe, Kara, breathe.

He gave her hope and lifted her head. He eased the strain so she could breathe again.

He became bored and he toyed with her so he let go one last time so Kara could slip into eternity.

Kara lifted her head and gasped but each breath would tighten the seat belt like a boa constrictor.

Survival. The prominent thought in Kara's head but her will for life could never be enough.

Thunder struck and another flash of lightning followed. The rain did not relent and the floodgates opened.

Kara's neck hung on the seatbelt and her body lay in state. Kara wheezed. Her bare chest rose in and out in a desperate attempt for oxygen.

Perched, the assailant watched like a vulture. He poked his finger at her naked body for a reaction but he did not get one.

Lightning flashed again but there was little time between the flash and the crack of the thunder.

Like the lightening, the Acolyte crashed to the ground.

Confused, he looked back into the van. He stood and brushed the gravel from his pants and removed the pebbles implanted in his palms.

His eyes adjusted. A shadowy lump of Kara splayed in the van. On the ground, next the van was mass of clothing. His eyes adjusted further. There was a person in the pile of clothes.

"What?" he said. He had not calculated this. Should he stay and fight or run away? He had not finished his job. What if he was defeated? No time. No thoughts. His intruder ran towards him. He reacted and jabbed his fists. He made contact with flesh and clothe.

The inseam of Kara's body throbbed. She wheezed. Her vision tunneled.

Kara pushed herself up, but the seatbelt constricted more. She pulled her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

She tilted her head and the rain sprayed in her eyes. She peered through her hair and noticed two people. One was her assailant but who was the other? Did she hallucinate?

She lost them. Her vision dimmed. This was it.

A few feet separated the two figures. It took awhile for both to regain composure. They heaved fists and they both fell on the ground again.

Must survive, she thought.

Gulk. She tried to breathe.

She struggled for footing but she could not find traction. Her knees stung with the pain, which came from a hamburger grinder.

One silhouette then the other sprang to their feet, and it appeared one was greater than the other was. They recovered and squared for a fight and were in positions ready for attack at the mere misstep of the other. The smaller of the two sized up the other, and took a swing and whiffed. The larger outmatched him, so he turned and ran.

The victor ran after him but halted. He skidded on gravel, turned, and came back towards the van.

Kara kicked her feet faster.

He came back for the kill, she thought.

She squeaked. Need to breathe. Nevertheless, she did not receive an answer to her prayer.

The victor approached her with his hand out.

She tried to cry but nothing came.

This was it. This was life. It was over.

Kara's cheeks were raised, scrunched, and anguished. Her mouth was open. Her mascara streaked from the rain and masked the tears that trickled Kara's face.

Thoughts of her mom and her dad and her sister flashed through her mind. They would be heartbroken.

The assailant held his hand out like Kara was a hurt bulldog.

He toyed with her once more. She closed her eyes, for the final time.

His fingers slide through her hair. The chokehold relieved. He slid an arm under her back and lifted her. The seatbelt tightened and followed her neck.

He slid his fingers underneath the strap but it tightened further.

Kara flipped open her bloodshot eyes, and held his face. Gentler and revealed. Blurred. Black. A light came. Her thoughts floated away from her head. She looked on herself from above the minivan.

Kara came back. Her eyes opened, she beheld a large jackknife in her face. She swallowed but the seatbelt was too tight. She swallowed but it got stuck on the seatbelt.

"Easy, I'm here and I'm gonna help you. I'll cut the seat belt. I cannot get it off otherwise," he said.

Her eyes widened. His voice was different. Safe. A rescuer. A stranger none the less. Cautious.

The knife snapped back. The seatbelt fell away from her neck. Her head fell onto his hand.

Gluck. Cough. Kara wheezed like an out of tune violin. She coughed some more. She wheezed. Her head whipped with each cough but she recaptured oxygen levels.

Her teeth chattered and her body shivered.

Warmth and embraces surrounded her.

His hand guided her head to his shoulder for support.

"It's okay," he said. He rubbed his hands against her slimy gritty back skin and created friction.

She gulped and strained her lungs. She vocalized a cry for the first time.

He loosened his embrace and spoke soft words. He intended she lay down but Kara pulled herself into a ball and nuzzled closer to his body.

She was naked and he was warm. He emitted heat. She pulled her arms in front of her chest and she warmed her arms.

"Y-y- you saved my life," Kara managed a squawk through her chattering teeth. "Thanks," She said with scant a whisper.

"You need some real help," he said. Her heart beat against his chest.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes in tears. "I cannot believe this happened to me. I cannot believe this," she relived eternity.

He lowered Kara, with his right arm and reached his cell phone. "I'm going to call the police and get an ambulance out here, and we can get you to a hospital because you need a doctor, okay?"

"No," Kara pled in her frailty, "This is between you and me. I'll be okay." She acted soothed. She unrolled her tangled, wet shirts.

Her decline took him by surprise, but he stressed again, "I'm sorry, I have to." He stopped and reiterated, "You a doctor. You're hurt. Hurt more than you realize."

"Where are my pants," she cried in a hoarse voice. She cleared her throat but the seatbelt held fast in place.

"They're on the ground," Kara cried. "Oh man, they're soaked."

Her feeble body collapsed onto the floor. She retracted herself into the fetal position and whimpered.

"I'm sorry," he said. He wagged his phone before he dialed. "I'll step out here and call okay?"

"No, you cannot leave me here," she said. Her shrill voice trailed, "What if he comes back? Oh!"

Kara sighed, and stopped and thought, and regained her thoughts. "In my... in my sports bag... there's a hoodie. Oh, headache," she said. She closed her eyes and feigned rest.

If I sleep, I will wake, and this will not be happening anymore, she thought and she drifted in and out of sleep.

In haste, he unzipped Kara's sports bag and rifled through it. He pulled out an ash-hooded sweatshirt and she took it from him but he insisted he help her get her wet clothes off first.

She stared blankly. Warmth was a higher priority.

He struggled and pulled her shirt over her matted hair. He was nervous he'd hurt her further. He kept his eyes shoulder level to her, careful because she might think he would take advantage of her.

The hood was damp but the rest of the sweatshirt was dry. He helped her with the sleeves first before he slid it over her head.

Once it was around her pits, he grabbed the bottom of the shirt and let it drop onto her lap.

She struggled and covered buttocks. She pulled her legs inside and rocked back and forth like a ball.

He stepped around the van. He dialed 9-1-1 and waited for a dispatcher.

"911 what's your emergency?"

"Hi my name is Alex Fredrick and I'm on the east side of Gwinnet Place Mall," he said. He walked in earshot of Kara so she could not hear the conversation, "I think she was raped. He tried to kill her," he said. He maintained composure and coherency.

"Is she breathing?" the operator asked?

"Yes! Hurry up!"

"It's okay, hon. The paramedics and police are on their way. Is she conscious to your understanding?"

"Yes, she spoke to me. She's afraid, please hurry, I do not know what else to do."

"Please, remain calm for her."

"We are on the east side, in front of the food court entrance, on the freeway side," he said.

"Okay, thank you. You're doing fine, Alex. They're coming. Stay with her until they get there."

"Okay..." Alex hung up his phone and returned to the van. He plopped in the doorway. He stared at Kara, huddled in the back corner of the vehicle, atop of the stowed third seat.

She gazed at the floor. She chattered her teeth and hummed a monotone moan. She noticed Alex. He sat next to her and stared.

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," she said. "Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, please help me."

"It's go okay."

Ninety-four seconds from the 9-1-1 call, a black, unmarked Crown Victoria with a gold star screeched to a halt. Lights flashed from the grill and the tail of the vehicle. He stopped at an angle to the passenger side of the van where Alex sat.

"What did he look like?" the Gwinnet County Police officer shouted from his car.

"Shorter than me. Dark clothes. White. Braves hat." Alex rattled off.

"Where did he go?" the Gwinnet the officer asked.

Alex pointed towards the west, "That way," and the sheriff sped off.

The first car disappeared two more squad cars pulled up. One city officer emerged from his white squad car. His female partner popped out of the other side.

The second car was a K 9 unit from the Gwinnet County Police department. It also was black with a gold star and K 9 in the middle.

The K 9 officer got out and let his German Shepherd out. It sniffed around the van. The dog stuck his nose in the car, sniffed what he could from the ground. The officer and his dog ran in the direction the first officer ran. The dog barked the whole way.

"Where's my bus?" the male city cop called over his radio.

"It's coming," was the response.

In a short period, four more squad cars surrounded the scene from various departments. In the distance, lights flashed and sirens sped on the area streets. The police scoured the area.

The ambulance arrived and the K9 cop and his master jogged back. "He lost the scent at the bus stop," the cop said in distress.

"They're combing the streets and they have a five mile perimeter set up. We'll catch him," said an officer in command.

### An unmarked cruiser sped through the parking lot and stopped next to one of the other cars. , a 5 foot 8 inch blond, Detective Sanchez, of the Atlanta Sexual Assault Response Team hopped out.

Detective Sanchez's partner, Detective Stu Vu, question Alex.

Alex gave Detective Vu the best description he could of the rapist.

"It was dark," he said, "and everything happened so fast. I saw him on top of her. I rushed in and tackled him. When we both got off the ground, he looked shorter than me. Braves hat... Nike Shirt. Dark clothes."

Detective Sanchez approached the van and the EMT tended to Kara.

Sanchez took a seat in the van.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Det. Sanchez, Gwinnet Police. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This sucks."

Kara nodded.

"Is there anybody we can call, like your mom or dad?" Detective Sanchez asked.

"My mom," she scratched out.

"Who should I say you are?"

"Kara Foster..." she said. She lunged towards Detective Sanchez and grasped Sanchez's coat.

Kara wailed.

The EMT stayed back.

Sanchez returned the embrace. She pushed out her jaw and fought her own tears. The pressure of Kara's hold was great from such a small body.

Detective Sanchez patted Kara's back and gave her unconfident assurance. She repeated soft whispers, "Shh... shh... shh... it's go okay Kara." She did not believe her own words but it was all she knew. "Kara," Detective Sanchez said. She still held Kara and said, "I do not want to do this, but can tell me anything you remember what he looks like so we can catch him. He's a bad, bad man. Is there anything you remember which can help us?"

"No," Kara said. She whimpered. "No, I do not remember anything and I want to go home and go to bed. I'm cold and I'm tired."

"I know Kara, I know. A doctor will help you. We've got people who can help you get better and help us find this person. We have a general description, but if you remember anything specific, please tell us."

"Can you bring a blanket?" Detective Sanchez yelled for another medic.

Sanchez rose from her seat and let the EMT's tend to Kara. Sanchez went to Vu and asked, "What did you find."

"Just vague generalities," he responded.

"Hey Britt," one of the cops called, "They made an arrest at the Days Inn. They think it's your guy."

Vu called Alex, "Come with me. We will drive by so you can ID the guy."

Alex and Detective Vu sped away.

Sanchez returned to Kara and the medics continued her examination.

"So you were walking back from shopping, and you got to your car and he pushed you in?" Sanchez pried.

"I got off from work," Kara said. She replayed the walk in slow motion.

"So he pushed you into the car?"

Kara hesitated. She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I... no..." She swallowed and coughed. "He was in my dad's van already."

"How do you think he got in?"

Kara turned her head away. She sniffled again. In a broken, high pitch sentence, "The door was open already."

"Did you notice it was open as you came up?"

Another car sped through the parking lot towards the crime scene. It screeched to a stop at the first set of cop cars. The door flung open and a woman popped out and screamed, "Kara, oh my God, no!"

Two cops rushed to the woman and restrained her so she could not get too close to the crime scene.

"I'm so sorry. It's my fault," she said. She covered her head and turned her back to the officers. "I should have walked with her," she cried.

"Annie!" Kara said.

"You know her?" Det. Sanchez inquired.

"She's my boss, and my mom's friend."

Det. Sanchez talked to Annie for a bit. She came back to Kara.

Det. Sanchez' phone rang, "It's not him," the voice said. "Alex said it's not close."

"Dammit, what's wrong with these beat cops? The EMT is wrapped up here. I'll ride with her to the hospital. You and the boy meet me over there. I'll question him when I get there." She closed her phone and shook her head in disgust.

The EMT lifted Kara onto the stretcher and rolled her into the ambulance. Josue and Chico stood off in the distance, by a light pole. Arms folded, and feet shoulder width apart, they looked on.

After the medics lifted her into the ambulance, Det. Sanchez hopped in the back and settled in next to Kara the paramedics closed the doors.

The paramedics closed the doors on the ambulance. The rain poured and said to the heavens cried for Kara.

"Dammit," Sanchez muttered under her breath because every drop of rain compromised the crime scene.

The EMT put Kara on an IV and they had not left the mall. Within minutes, the ambulance was on its way, Kara en tow, to the hospital.

"Please," adamant, she gasped and she struggled for words. "I do not want to go... please, I beg you."

"It's okay Kara. I'd feel the same way, and others have felt that way too. However, I found we could help you better in a hospital," the medic reasoned.

The other medic reached to the CB microphone on her shoulder harness. The medic radioed in to the hospital and said, "GMMC, 902h. This is an 82. We have a seventeen-year-old 4-2 with a 3-7 or 3-4c. There are multiple 22's. 32 perhaps 33's. 28. External injuries are apparent. ETA 15."

"10-4, 2430, GMMC Controller, We will be ready for 10-24. What are her stats?"

"Blood pressure is 132 over 83. She is conscious and breathing. We have her on IV but no medications have been administered at this time. She's slipping into shock but we do not have authorization to administer any sedatives without parental permission."

"Have her parents been contacted and informed on where to go yet?"

"They have not been contacted yet. We have had the dispatch call her house with no answer. We sent a 5-0 to her residence. They will inform her parents of the situation."

"Okay, we have staff ready for your arrival. We'll see you when you get here."

"Thanks."

"I cannot believe this is happening," Kara mumbled to herself as if she was by herself. She sat and her eyes scanned like a deer in the headlights, but the EMT coaxed her onto her back.

This cannot is happening. Her thoughts were lackadaisical and repetitive.

The sound of the siren and the occasional blowing of the horn all blended and added to her confusion.

Kara's vision dimmed and darkened to black. The paramedics seemed like they faded further above her than when they first started. She spun in one direction and the world above her spun in another direction.

Kara closed her eyes but the spin continued. She opened them again and she closed them but she could not open them. Her head throbbed harder and her stomach churned. The last bit of energy ebbed out and she gave up on her eyes. Every, beep, buzz and siren faded into the distance.

"Kara, stay awake, honey, we cannot let you sleep on us," a medic said.

"We're almost to the hospital; stay awake a little longer."

"But I'm tired, I cannot stay awake. I wanna sleep. I wanna go home," she said. She tossed her head from side to side.

"It's okay Kara, I understand, but stay awake for us. Keep talking to us. Tell us what you did last week."

"I-I-I work at the mall. I got off from work..." breath, "I was gonna go home, " breath, "and read my Bible," wheeze," and," breath," take a shower and go to bed. But..." Wheeze. "He scared me. I did not know he was there," gulk "and he touched me," pant "my body" breath, "I told" wheeze "him... to stop." She did not restrain her emotions and tears poured down her rose-colored cheeks.

Det. Sanchez listened and both medics exchanged glances. The grief and disappointment was tough, for those who listened. The sadness and pain in her face brought tears to the medic's eyes.

"Kara," one of the medics said, "I do not know what you're going through but we are going to do everything we can."

"How old are you," the other medic chimed in.

"Seventeen," Kara said.

"Oh I have a daughter the same age. Do you go to Shiloh High?"

"No."

"Where do you go?" she probed. Anything she could do. She wanted Kara engaged in conversation. It'd keep her alert.

"GAC."

"Greater Atlanta Christian? Do you play basketball there?"

Kara struggled but she answered through her scratchy throat, "Yeah."

"I guess that's why people go there: to play basketball. My daughter plays ball at Shiloh. Her name is Riley Roberts. Do you know her?"

"Yeah, she's a great player," she said. She closed her eyes.

With one hand, Det. Sanchez stroked the back of Kara's hand with her thumb. She ran her other hand through Kara's hair. She comforted this afflicted one and mulled over how affliction would be brought upon the comforted.

The ambulance splashed through the rain and its siren blared.

Chapter Two

Within two minutes, The Acolyte had reached his hiding spot.

Safety, he thought. He held tight to the iron rung. His sexual high withered into disappointment. He did not get the full high. What a waste, he thought.

Rainwater crashed from both sides and soaked his clothes. The water beneath him had gone from a puddle to a stream.

The rain sewer was the perfect escape. He grinned, proud of himself, but he did not know how long he would wait.

He stepped off of the ladder onto a ledge on the side. He had not anticipated this. A tunnel connected both sides of the road. It was pitch black, but it was worth a shot. It lessened the chance of discovery.

Already soaked, he got on all fours and traversed the tunnel. The tunnel had a slight incline and water from the other drain trickled in his direction. Sludge and mud greeted his knees and palms but he pushed forward.

The Police dogs barked. He held his position and he held his breath for fear of any sound would alert the dogs. He did not know if they could hear him, but it was not a chance he'd take. The rain was a well-planned part of his strategy. It washed away his scent, but it led the dogs this far. His heart pounded hard against his rib cage. However, he controlled his breathes and contained it in silence.

"They're stumped," a male voice called. "He must have gotten on the bus. He's long gone."

"Where does this bus go?" another voice said.

"The next stop is the Marta train station. The best thing is if we can find out which bus came through and watch the security video."

"We can impound it for finger prints or hair or both."

Footsteps sloshed away and the barks with them. He felt safer. He scurried on his knees to the other side of the street. He had not thought about the security cameras.

They'd look for the last bus but not a bus in the other direction.

He arrived to the other side. He stood, the water dripped from his clothes in a steady stream. The bottom rung was broken.

He jumped and grabbed hold of the next rung, but his fingers slipped. He fell onto his backside. His pants soaked through to his bones. He regrouped and tried again. This time he grabbed hold with vigor. He swung his feet out, higher than the tunnel he traversed. There, he planted his feet and walked the wall and got higher on the ladder. He threw his left hand and grasped, and then he threw his right hand. He pulled himself higher and brought his feet onto a rung.

Scrunched into a ball, he stretched himself and climbed high enough he could see through the drain vent. From the ladder, he had a clear view of the parking lot.

The rain flowed in and the next bus ambled down the road.

Glee. The next bus pulled to the stop before his stop.

The K-9 unit came back with a woman cop. He had not heard her earlier. Were they going to check the sewers?

He glanced down the street. A few people got off. The few included a person on a wheel chair. She got onto the sidewalk and wheeled her chair back. She said something to the driver and cackled a great cackle.

The dogs were half way to him already. This wasn't the time to panic.

He wedged himself on the stairs, held on with his left hand, and pushed the sewer lid with his right hand.

The bus had left the previous stop.

He could not budge the lid. It would not move. He loosened his grip.

The bus rumbled to a stop. The diesel engine whined and the air breaks deployed with a whoosh.

One last, push. Trapped.

The bus idled, the door swooshed open. Footsteps pattered off.

In desperation, he pulled himself through the vent.

He watched and the last person got on and the door whooshed. The bus rolled away.

He pounded on the Victoria Secret advertisement on the side panel of the bus.

The bus halted. He smiled, and jogged to the door and it pushed open. Success.

The dogs went nuts but the detectives stood at the other bus stop and searched.

"Oh, I did not see you," the driver said with her Ebonics mixed with a side of southern flare.

"Sorry," he said.

"You soaked. Where you coming from?"

"I missed the last bus so I waited under the trees so I would not get wet. Did not work."

"Dollar fiddy," she said.

"I've got a pass somewhere," he said. The cops stood over the sewer. "Ah, cannot find it. Here are two. Keep the change."

He slinked into the first seat, slouched, and watched over his shoulder. They took the cap off of the sewer. The bus drove off and the Acolyte was gone. He sighed and watched one of the cops lower himself into the sewer.

"Really should not be under trees with lightning. I had a cousin in Charleston get struck cuz he was too close to a tree."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He kept his head bowed and did not make eye contact.

He scanned the bus. A couple of passengers, he thought. iPods, books, Journal Constitutions; everybody was preoccupied.

The Acolyte pulled a gold chain cross necklace from his jeans pocket, kissed it and chained it around his neck.

Chapter Three

The rain pattered on the windshield. The ambulance backed into its spot along the lane of ambulances. The doors crashed open and the EMT workers unloaded and rolled the gurney towards the Grady Memorial Medical Center doors.

Sheet after sheet of rain moved across the driveway. A cool northwest breeze blew the rain in a fine mist into the porte-cochere. The lightning lit the clouds.

The gurney rolled and Kara became aware of the new surroundings. She looked at the white brick wall and turned her head. She saw the cement pillars and the gurney whisked into the doorway.

"Where are we?" Kara's mouth said but her vocal chords did not comply with her in and out of delirium.

The automatic doors bounced open as they neared. The gurney rolled on into the sterile white central corridor of the hospital.

Bright fluorescent lights blinded Kara's un-dilated pupils. She scrunched her eyes and turned her head. Her pupils contracted. The lights reflected off of the walls and fused in one long white blur. The new surroundings kept Kara curious enough she strained her eyes open despite the brightness. Every sound and motion caught Kara's attention.

The sound was of a whole host of emergency technicians who ascended on Kara and whisked her away.

An Asian American female technician asked Det. Sanchez, "What is her name, ma'am?"

"Kara, I do not know her last name," Det. Sanchez said.

The smell of yesterday's blood aggravated the nausea Kara already felt. Yet, Kara lacked any strength to throw up.

"She was raped," the medic told the technician. The tech walked them down the hall.

The sound of those words echoed in Kara's psyche. It was as if it was said about somebody else and Kara overheard it.

An eternity passed and they wheeled Kara into a room where they moved her to overstuffed, leather, Brewer 6000 Access exam table. It looked more like a Lazy Boy Recliner than a hospital exam table, she noticed, except the paper liner, which ran down the middle.

Kara reclined in the chair. A female technician came in. She stretched purple non-latex gloves over her hand.

"Make sure you seal the sheet on the gurney," the technician instructed the medics.

She hooked Kara to a heart monitor and moved the drip bag to a portable stand. She continued and another female nurse entered the room and brought the sealed sheet.

"Dr. Green will be in here soon and she will complete the kit. She said to go ahead and gather the personal information," the second nurse said.

The first technician grabbed a cardboard box, sealed in plastic, from a cabinet, under the counter. The box was white with blue letters and was labeled in the upper right hand corner, with an orange biohazard label. She took the lid off of the box and pulled out the top form.

Kara stared and the practitioner placed a form onto a clipboard and sat on a stool next to Kara's bed. The nurse pulled a pen from the front pocket of her burgundy scrubs. The click echoed through the silence room.

"We're busy tonight, so if I'm too fast, ask me to slow down, okay?" the nurse clarified.

Kara nodded.

"What is your name?" the nurse asked.

"Kara... Foster..." she said.

"How are you, Kara? Is there anything I can get you?" the nurse asked in her Georgia, sweet like molasses, accent.

"I'm thirsty."

"I know you are," the nurse observed from Kara's voice, "we have you on an IV, but you cannot have a drink yet, until we are done, okay, Sweetheart?"

Kara nodded. "Do you know when my parents will be here?"

"No, Sweetheart, I will have Nurse Mary Beth find out in a minute."

"When were you born, Kara?"

"September 3, 1991."

"17. And you are female and Caucasian," she scribbled, and looked back at Kara.

"What's your social security number?"

"470-66-0787."

"What is your phone number?"

"770-555-9963."

"Let's see here," the nurse said. She studied the heart monitor. "The diastolic blood pressure is at 91 mm Hg and systolic blood pressure of 142 mm Hg. Not too bad considering." She jotted her information down.

"Any allergies?"

"No."

"Last tetanus shot?"

"I think," she paused, "last summer. I will not answer these questions."

"I'm sorry, Honey. I do not want to ask you them, but we need this information. Ok?"

Kara nodded and hummed an ok.

"Ok. Do you have any illnesses? Are you sick with anything major?"

"No."

"Have you had any surgeries?"

Kara stared away. She paused for a few moments and finally answered, "I had my appendix taken out when I was like seven."

"Have you ever been pregnant before?"

"No," she said. She set her hands on her belly and sniffled. A tear emerged and trickled down her cheek. She wiped the tear with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and sniffled again.

Pregnant. The word echoed. She had not thought she could be. She feared the responsibility. She was a child, she thought. Georgia tech appeared on her radar for basketball. College blipped on her radar. If she were pregnant, her whole future would change. She would lose her scholarship.

"It's okay sweetheart. What is your weight?" The nurse asked. Kara snapped back.

"One hundred pounds."

"How tall are you, hon?"

"Five feet, five inches."

"Do you know who your family doctor is?"

Kara stared, stuttered, and answered, "I cannot remember." She pulled her legs into a ball, inside her sweatshirt.

"We will wait for the Doctor before we proceed. It should be a couple minutes."

Kara sighed. Her face was stoic and she stared at the picture on the wall. She never comprehended the images of the picture.

Her lips lowered and she breathed heavily and she pondered the night. She was so deep into her thought she did not notice the quiet chatter of the two nurses.

She fought the nausea, which moved into her throat. She looked for an open a window so she could jump out. The higher the better, she thought. She would rather die than go through this. She turned and stared at the IV and thought she might pull the plug. However, it did not support.

There was a knock at the door. It clicked open and interrupted her train of thought.

A blonde female doctor came in and asked, "Is this," she looked at her clipboard, "Kara Foster?" The first nurse scurried and gave her the form she started.

Kara perked up. She straightened her posture and her bottom lip still poked out. The doctor was too young. Doogie Howser looked down on her. The doctor and her ponytail did not help the youthful look. However, the doctor's voice soothed Kara.

"Kara, I'm sorry we are meeting under these circumstances, but I assure you I am here and I will help you. My name is Doctor Kimberly Green and you can call me Kim." She waited for Kara's response. Kara never gave one.

"I am a trained forensic examiner. I will collect all the evidence so we can catch the man who did this to you."

Kim changed her tone to a more sympathetic and quieter sound. "Listen, Kara, I've been in your seat before, and so has my sister, which is why I'm here. I've been where you are. I've been through what you're going through.

"I know you're 17, but make an important decision. Please, sign this form and agree for a rape kit.

"What this does is it allows us to take any of your clothing, a sample of your hair, examine any part which was assaulted and things like that. Most of the time, when a doctor asks for information, or perform procedures on a person of your age, parents need to give permission. This is one of the few, if not the only reason, we would not have to get parental permission. It is an emergent situation and we believe you can make an educated decision and help us help you. Will you sign this?"

Kara sat and reached for the clipboard. She jotted her signature and gave the clipboard back.

"It's a good decision, I assure you," Dr. Green said. "I have a couple more questions for you so I can finish this form. Afterwards we can get started on the rape kit.

"Did he use a contraceptive and if so what was used?"

"He used a condom, until the end... he pulled it off before he finished..." Kara retracted her hand and covered her mouth. Her eyes welled with tears. Her stomach wretched, like a surfer caught inside a wave.

"Do you have a gynecologist, Kara?"

"Yes, but my first scheduled appointment was not until next week," she said. She still cupped her hand over her mouth and sniffed the snot at the rim of her nostril.

"Kara, these next questions are a lot more personal. You have to be honest with me," she exhorted. "Have you bathed, showered, douched, brushed your teeth, or used mouth wash since you were raped?"

"No I have not," Kara whimpered. She clicked her teeth against her fingernails. In her mind, she talked about someone else.

"Have you urinated, defecated, or vomited since you were raped?"

"Defecated means did I poop?" Kara clarified.

"Yes."

"No, I have not."

Questions like "Was there penetration?" and "Did he ejaculate there?" were among the questions.

Kara turned her head and looked to the back corner of the room. Reality hit her between the eyes. Her body convulsed and she suppressed her tears. She swallowed and said, in a higher pitched voice, "Yes," and "I do not know" were common answers with tears rolled down her face, she cried. She reminded herself to breathe.

A barrage of yes or no questions followed. What happened to you and where did it happen?

"Were you pregnant at the time of the assault?"

Pregnant. The word landed a pit in her stomach. The pit came up and lodged itself in her throat.

"No, again. I am... I was a virgin," Kara said. Her composure slipped from her grip. Her vision skewed from the tears like a dream of an examination room buried in Lake Lanier.

Dr. Green paused and went over the previous set of questions and made sure she had not missed anything. She kept active because it was hard not to get personal in this situation. She could not fake being warm.

She had written articles in the past. She asked the tough questions. Was it harder for a rape victim who was a virgin prior to the rape compared to someone who was not and compared each scenario of stranger rape, date rape, statutory rape and incestuous rape?

Because she worked on the forensic side of things, she spoke in subjective theories and based on the stories she had seen in emergency rooms. She prayed a counselor would tackle the case study objectively.

Kara had not gained her composure but Dr. Green pressed on. "Do you have any injuries which resulted in bleeding?"

"I think so."

"Ok. Do you know how many assailants were there?"

"One."

"Male?"

She nodded and moved her lips but no sound.

"Color?"

"White? I think?"

"What was his relationship to you?"

"I do not know. I do not think I know him, but he seemed like he knew me. He said my name."

Dr. Green paused and jotted down some notes. The solitary sounds were the pen scratches and the ticks of the clock.

It was the same ticking clock in every doctor's office and every hospital like there was one supplier. It is like the same Santa Claus in the K-mart stores and in the shopping malls across the street, and those who rang the bell on the sidewalks.

"Okay Kara, I'm finished with these questions. I thank you for your honesty with me. I know this was hard but you did a good job.

"The next step, your cooperation is paramount. You do not have to say anything. You have to follow my instructions.

"I am going to place a large sheet of paper on the floor at your feet. Scoot off of the table onto the paper. Be careful and stand in the middle."

Kara slithered off of the table into the center of the paper. She stood, slouched.

"Ok, I was wrong. Here are a few more questions but they are easy. Are you wearing anything besides your shirt, shoes or socks?"

"No," she said. She lowered her eyes to the floor.

"This is the shirt you wore?"

"No."

"How about your shoes and socks?"

"Yes."

"Ok, take off your shoes and hand them to the nurse to put into the bag.

"Remember; be careful stand over the middle of the paper.

"Take your socks off too. Put each one into a separate bag. Again, make sure you stay over the paper so any lose hairs or fibers or DNA falls to the paper."

Kara glanced at the white box with biohazard label from which they took the bags. She made out the words, "Sex Crime Kit."

She paused.

She reminded herself to breathe again.

Kara no longer poked her bottom lip out but nibbled on it. The corners of her lips still frowned.

She took off her left shoe and her right. She repeated the same direction with her socks. The nurses inspected each item for damage or visible evidence, but they found none. She watched them put each shoe and sock into its own bag and sealed for evidence.

"Okay, you're doing well, Kara. Give me your sweatshirt next."

Kara was reluctant. She folded her hands over her chest and turned away. She sniffled, and then wiped her nose with the sleeve. She lowered her arms and turned back to the doctor, but her face still turned away.

She grabbed her left sleeve with her right hand and pulled. She cupped her mouth with her hands.

"You're doing fine. Take your time," Dr. Green encouraged.

Kara pulled the sweatshirt over her head in one quick motion. She handed it to the nurse, and the nurse put it into its own bag and sealed it for evidence.

Kara withdrew her arms and crossed them over her chest. Goose bumps emerged on her otherwise smooth flesh. Her teeth chattered and she embraced herself tighter.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Dr. Green said, "I'll make this go quick. You did not wear panties?"

Kara nodded.

"Still at the..."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Ok, you can get back on the table. Next I'll give you a physical exam from head to toe."

The word table confused Kara. It looked more like a chair than anything Kara identified as a table. She stuttered and stepped back to the edge of the paper. She slouched in the low chair so she was below Dr. Green's chest.

"I had more clothes before," Kara noted. She averted her eyes to the floor. "They're at my dad's van."

"It's okay honey. The police will get them," she said. She stepped in closer to Kara.

"It looks like you have some bruises on your face," Dr. Green said and handled Kara's face with care. She examined the bruises. "Is this new?" she touched a crack on Kara's lip. Kara reached and felt it. She nodded.

Nurse Mary Beth stepped in and took a picture of Kara's eyes and lips.

The doctor spread her fingers out and stuck them in Kara's wet, mangy hair. She massaged Kara's head for any buried wounds. She did not find any. She used a fine toothcomb and collected any loose hairs, which might belong to her or her attackers. She collected the loose hairs, moved down, examined, and noted on the marks on Kara's neck.

"What are these marks from, on your neck?" the doctor asked. The nurse took a picture. "Do you know?"

"He wrapped the seatbelt around me," she wheezed and coughed.

"Lean forward on your seat so I can look at your back."

Kara obliged. She leaned forward and brought her knees to her chest. She wrapped arms around her torso and warmed her front but her back chilled.

"Some minor contusions," she pointed for the nurse and she took pictures.

"Can you stand for a second so we can check your bottom?" A quick glance and, "Okay, you can sit, Kara."

Kara sat with her knees tucked and her arms over her chest. All the way up and down, she crossed and uncrossed her arms always conscious of the intravenous needle, afraid it might come out.

"Let me look at your chest for a second. Okay, nothing abnormal. And your belly... Oh my, did he cut you?" Dr. Green questioned. She noticed the marks on her abdomen. "Mary Beth, take a picture of the cut and print it off to give to Det. Sanchez when we are done."

Since it happened, Kara did not think it was anything significant other than it was as his personal muse. She had not thought of how it looked.

In pain, Kara tilted her head forward, but she was too reclined. How she sat, all she saw was her chest. She stretched and looked, but she could not see the marks.

Why did the doctor bring attention to it? Why did the doctor flag it for the detective? Why did the doctor not say more about it?

Dr. Green moved on, and so did Kara. Other than the contusions on her wrists, her arms and legs were clear of any external marks. Slight redness shone on her shins where they banged into the van when her assailant pulled her in.

Dr. Green grabbed a remote. A tube attached the remote to the chair. She pushed a white button and slowly, the chair rose up and lay back. Seconds passed and Kara was higher and reclined further back.

Dr. Green pulled stirrups up and out where the chair was once located. She locked the stirrups in place. She guided her feet into the stirrups.

"Put your feet in the stirrups, Kara."

She grabbed her pen and clipboard and jotted a few things down. She began the next phase of the exam. She lowered her head between Kara's legs. The sharp aroma faded to gray.

"Mary Beth, can you set the tape recorder," Dr. Green said. She waited for the click of the recorder and then she started.

"Kara Foster is a four on the Tanner Stage."

Kara hiked her eyebrows. She strained her eyes towards Dr. Green so she could observe the examination, but she gave up. The fatigue in her neck and the strain on her eyes was too much. She closed her eyes and imagined she ate dinner with her mother. Tears hung on her eyelashes and Dr. Green continued.

"Her perineum looks normal," she said.

"It looks like there is slight irritation and injury to her periurethral. This would be consistent with rape.

"There is also swelling to her urethra, also common with rape."

Dr. Green rattled off each item and marked them off, on her forms.

Kara's body stiffened. Her legs ached and her shoulders knotted. Tears gathered on the ends of her closed eyelashes, like morning dew which hung on bent grass.

"Her labia majora is irritated and swollen. Her labia minora is also swollen at her commissure and fourchette.

"There is swelling present around her clitoris," she said. She peered, "and there is some minor tearing around her clitoral hood.

"How are you Kara," Dr. Green looked at Kara.

"Good," Kara lied. She smacked her tongue.

Thirsty.

"We will keep going," the doctor said. She received a nod.

"There is also minor swelling of her vestibule.

"Kara's fossa navicularis is slightly torn with minimal traces of blood."

Dr. Green examined beyond the pudenal cleft and said, "There is clear trauma to the anus, and remains consistent with the rape. Tearing. Redness."

Dr. Green did not waste any time. She continued and said, "Can I have a speculum please?"

Kara widened her eyes. Stories of her friends who had already had their first visit to their gynecologists filled her memory. Her heart pounded and her breath shortened.

The first nurse handed Dr. Green a speculum.

"Kara, I cannot lubricate this, per usual, so it is go a little uncomfortable and cold," Dr. Green warned. She showed the speculum to Kara.

"Oh, man," Kara said.

Dr. Green held the speculum. She lowered it and held it near Kara's flesh, close enough the cold radiated. She held her breath. No time for hesitation, she thought. She pushed the instrument in.

"The observable discharge is Kara's blood, and her hymen is completely displaced," Dr. Green said. She sighed.

"Here's the swab," the nurse said. She held the swab out and Dr. Green asked.

Dr. Green took the swab. A thousand times, but it's still a lot of pressure, she thought. Through the cold metal of the speculum, she poked and scraped with two swoops. She exhaled and said, "Okay, this should suffice." She he removed the swab and handed it to Mary Beth for proper retention.

The first nurse took the swab and sealed it for prevention of any contamination or compromise. She sealed it, marked it, and added it to the evidence.

"Hand me the pap smear broom and I will sweep her squamous-columnar junction," Dr. Green said. She reached for the broom.

"Kara, you might feel a little pressure from this," Dr. Green warned.

Kara nodded. Her eyes never diverted their gaze on the wall.

She held her breath again. Deliberate, she inserted the broom. She pushed.

Kara squirmed. A little pressure?

Dr. Green made one complete circle with the broom and gathered a sample.

"Next, I will brush and get a sample of her endo-cervical."

Kara diverted her eyes with each tool chosen, processed, and stowed. She watched the first nurse initial each seal after it was sealed.

"Next, we will perform what is called a colposcopy, Kara. We are going to put a tiny camera inside, and view your cervix. There will be some discomfort so you can be aware."

"Geez," Kara complained.

The doctor pulled a camera from an arm attached to the ceiling. The preparation was quick and the examination began.

Kara watched the image popped onto the screen. The pink and texture popped out, glossy and smooth, but she could have confused it for any other internal image.

"There are injuries to the cervix. There is redness and swelling, some tearing and contusions."

It was all the same, Kara thought.

Dr. Green finished the colposcopy.

Dr. Green removed the speculum.

Kara sighed at the relief of the pressure. Her delicate tissue pulsed, like wearing a hat all day. When you removed it, it felt like it was still there.

Dr. Green felt around and determined its strength and support. She also felt for growths or tender areas.

Dr. Green placed her fingers from her other hand on Kara's lower abdomen above the pubic bone. Between her two hands, Dr. Green felt Kara's uterus. "The uterus is normal, pear-shaped, smooth, and a firm structure like it should be. Its position, size, and consistency are normal."

Dr. Green pressed and Kara's eyes bugged out. She coughed whispering coughs. The pain was too much.

Mentally, Dr. Green noted the location of the tenderness.

Dr. Green continued on, "Let me check your ovaries. It will exert more pressure. I need to determine how large your ovaries are and whether they are tender."

Dr. Green recorded her observations and moved on.

"Kara, I will complete the rest of your routine pelvic exam. You can keep these r records and cancel your appointment for next week."

Kara nodded. There was some good news.

After she changed her gloves, Dr. Green put the stirrups back into the table. She grabbed the remote, once more, lowered the chair, and raised Kara in a more upright position.

The Doctor took two more swabs from Kara's mouth. She took one her cheek and the other one from under her tongue, around her mouth and into the back of her throat. The doctor used a flosser between her teeth and put into evidence.

Dr. Green motioned for the lights turned off. She turned on a hand-operated ultraviolet lamp and the lamp showed the kiss path from Kara's mouth to her mons veneris. There was a clear pool on her abdomen where some spots were darker than other spots.

The kit had prepared two swabs for each part of Kara's body the doctor examined.

The doctor found dried fluids and took pictures of the fluids. Dr. Green combed Kara's pubic hair for any loose hairs or dried fluids.

The doctor examined underneath Kara's fingernails at the end.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" Dr. Green asked with concern.

"Ye-yes... my throat hurts... It's a little dry. I ache all over," she cried.

"That should do it for the exam. You did a good job," Dr. Green said. "We'll get you some pain pills to manage the pain." She gave Mary Beth a nod.

Mary Beth nodded back and said, "Do you want a Coke?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What kind?"

"Do you have Dr. Pepper?"

"Yes we do. I'll get you a bottle of Dr. Pepper and a couple of Tylenol 8 Hour."

"Thank you, Nurse Mary Beth," Dr. Green said. She turned to Kara and said, "I hope your night goes better. Let me know if you need anything."

Mary Beth left for a Dr. Pepper. Dr. Green and the first nurse completed the rape kit and sealed it for the chain of evidence. She initialed and dated the evidence and read the label and made sure it went with Kara. One of the nurses did the same and confirmed with other information about Kara. Doctor Green signed an affidavit and stated she received the evidence and maintained the integrity of the evidence.

"Another nurse will come and move you to a bed upstairs. She should be here," Dr. Green said. In addition, the room was empty.

Another nurse came in and shut the door. The grayed and frumpy nurse walked to the other end of the room and sat on a chair. She rolled the chair to the edge of Kara's chair and looked at her in eyeball to eyeball.

She reached out, grabbed Kara's hand, and said to her, "Listen, I know you were raped and I know with each rape there is a risk you might be pregnant. But you have a choice to do a couple things. Your first choice is to take the "Morning After" pill. The pill has some side effects of stomach discomfort, pain, and backache. It continues after your first menstruation. It's nothing serious or life threatening. It will, however, prevent conception and it is 90% effective."

She continued and did not give Kara a chance for a response. "This can help avoid the problem of an unwanted pregnancy and the aggravation of what you will do when and if you, indeed, are impregnated.

"If you are indeed in the 10% and the pill does not work, and you still become pregnant, there is a backup plan which is to have an abortion. An abortion has no side effects but the thing you will have is the morning sickness for the short time you carry on the pregnancy. You also have the option and can keep your baby or give it up for adoption but at your age, I would not recommend the latter two because it will be bad and yourself image. Plus, no one your age should have to go through the aggravation of those decisions or being a single mother.

"These are your options and you can prevent any further unwanted complications you can take the 'Morning After' pill."

Kara's jaw dropped. She said, "I am going through trauma." Her voice squeaked and she continued, "I can barely talk, and with my mind going a hundred miles an hour, I try and comprehend a million different things, I would be lucky if I could think straight." Kara gulped and few tears slid. "As evil as this rape was," sniff, "I could not kill a baby. My. Baby. That is evil! I could not do evil simply because evil was done to me."

The nurse's jaw dropped. She stretched the wrinkles in her face. She pushed her glasses back to the bridge of her nose and said, "Do not say I did not warn you. Remember, you can have an abortion done later."

"You do not get it," Kara snapped. "You never will. Get out!"

The nurse let go of Kara's hand in disgust. She stood and walked out. She paused, gripped the door, and slammed it shut. Once again, the doctor left Kara alone in the solitude of the bustle of the hospital.

The solitude was short lived. Mary Beth came back into the room. She brought Kara a bottle of Dr. Pepper, a hospital gown and a pair of hospital slippers.

"I figured you needed one of these," Mary Beth said.

"I would have never realized if you had not brought it in," Kara responded in a monotone voice. She cracked half of smile out of the left side of her face.

Mary Beth smiled and offered, "It's a little tricky. I'll help you get it on."

Chapter Six

The Acolyte made it home. He went into his bedroom and shed his wet clothes, because he chaffed his thighs.

His mind worked a million miles an hour. What had gone wrong? He had not made a mistake since his first practice run. Maybe he had gotten too confident. It was bound to happen, but it should not have happened so soon.

The Acolyte's crotch itched. He scratched it and was not satisfied. His underwear was crusty in the front so he took his clothes off.

The Acolyte undressed and sat, bare bottom, in his swivel desk chair. His room was simple. His door was tucked in the corner with a closet half way up the perpendicular hallway. He had a queen size bed, which had not made or changed in a couple months. Dirt outlined his body was in the center of the sheet with grease inside the lines. At the foot of his bed was his desk and chair. His desk held a monitor, keyboard, and mouse with a tower tucked underneath.

He stared at his monitor as if it would reveal his mistakes, like a crystal ball. He should have closed the doors once she was secure, he decided.

The Acolyte was disguised enough she would not point him out in a police lineup. He protected himself against any evidence left at the scene. Was he being too confident? Maybe.

He pledged he would up his cautiousness and not bring any attention to himself.

The Acolyte would keep to himself so he would not tip people off. He was a horrible liar. If people asked him what he did over the weekend, they could see through him.

What can you tell me about the guy who attacked him? He should not have seen any more than Kara had, he did not think. His safety depended on what the cops did with the sewer and if they thought, he might have escaped at the bus stop on the other side of the road.

The Acolyte flashed his attention to the picture of Kara he had on the wall above his computer. To the right of her were pictures of other girls. A white line bordered each picture like a yearbook photo and under each was a blurb with the name and age and a little bit of personal information.

Girls to the left of Kara, the acolyte marked a fish symbol over their faces. Could not do Kara yet, he thought. He marked the top arch of the ichthus. It gave him some satisfaction he had part of the job done.

He decorated the wall over his bed with Catholic paraphernalia. Saint Agricola of Avignon was left of center. Saint Bessus was showcased dead center. To the right, hung Epidius. Simon of Trent dangled above Saint Bessus and gazed at the rest.

Saint Catherine of Alexandria, his favorite and closest to his head when he slept, graced the wall below Bessus. Below Catherine, Gabriel of our Lady of Sorrows hung. The placement of the saints formed a cross. Other various crucifixes flooded the wall.

To the left of the pictures was a print out article of Columbine. A sticky note hung below it, with a hand written note, which said, "isolate, and annihilate".

It was the problem with the Columbine attackers, he always said. They planned their event for one day at a place where they were outnumbered and something would go wrong. Maybe they planned it, but not the way he did it.

He jotted a couple notes on a steno pad. He had not thought what would happen if Kara, or any of the others, had survived. There was no way she was supposed to. Should he go back, finish her off some time, and complete the redemption process? Maybe, it would be better if he wait and let things calm first. The cops focused their attention on her but he refocused and concentrated on a new paschal project.

Next to his computer tower, he had a stack of yearbooks from high schools around Atlanta. He pulled one out, looked through the pictures, and looked for his next target. He narrowed it to three.

Chapter Seven

Kat paced some more. John turned off the lights. He went to bed, annoyed.

"You worry too much," he had said. He traipsed up the stairs.

Undeterred, Kat stood by the window and waited.

Her phone buzzed. Relief. Kara, she thought.

It was a 770 area code, but she did not recognize it.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Foster?"

"Who is this?"

"This is Det. Sanchez from the Gwinnett County Police. Is Mrs. Foster available?"

"Something's happened to Kara," she said, monotone. She swallowed and her esophagus poked through her neck like a python eating a critter whole.

"She's been attacked," Det. Sanchez said.

The entry way spun. Kat's head floated like it was filled with helium, and her head might float away at any moment. She turned her back to the window, slithered to the floor, and still pressed her ear to the phone.

"She's in stable condition, but she's been taken to Grady Memorial."

"No. No." She repeated.

"Come quickly. Do you have anybody who can take you?"

"My husband."

"Come to the ER and I'll meet you there."

"Yeah."

Det. Sanchez hung up. She was abrupt but she did not know how else to do it.

Kat held the phone to her ear. She froze. Her brain did not allow any thoughts.

Her sobs seized her. She dropped her phone, and with the same hand, she covered her mouth. She heaved short cries and her body bobbed.

Minutes passed. Cries turned to bellows.

"John," she called out. She waited. Darkness remained.

Silence.

"John," she cried, again, longer and louder.

The third time, with fury, she called his name.

She thumps on the floors. A light flicked on. Footfalls pattered across the floor. The upstairs hall light shone down the steps.

"Kat?"

"It's Kara," she called back.

Like thunder, John scaled the stairs. He froze and at the sight of his wife crouched on the floor.

"What do you mean it's Kara?"

"I knew something was wrong when she did not get home."

"What's happened? What's going on?"

"A detective called. Somebody attacked her. That's all I know. She's at Grady."

"What?"

"I do not believe it either."

John turned pale. His face was frozen. "I'll call my mom to come watch Rachel."

Chapter Eight

Kara remained in the examination room after she had gotten her Dr. Pepper. She drank half of the 20-ounce bottle and waited for the next thing. She had read all the signs on the wall.

There were signs about STDs; signs about rape; Birth Control signs; HIPAA signs; ask your doctor for condoms signs; pictures of female anatomy; a pain chart. All of the charts accented a mock Thomas Kincaid picture, which hung on an otherwise bare wall.

She was so exhausted. She read all the signs on the wall so she stared at the tiles on the floor. The clock on the wall ticked on. It read 12:45. Kara had not looked at it since it read 12:00.

The bruise on her face was more apparent as the night crept on. Her eyes puffed from the hits, and from her cries and from the lateness of the night.

Kara finished her Dr. Pepper. She wrung her hands. Why had her parents not come? She was also not sure why a nurse had not come back and taken her to her room. She was not familiar with how hospitals worked, but she was sure she was not supposed to be in this room anymore.

Kara's heart burned in abandonment. In a hospital full of people, nobody in the world existed except her. Nobody came in and cleaned the room, nor were there new patients. The hospital designated the room for sexual assault victims. She was in Atlanta and other people had need for this room more than she did.

She made sure she tightened her gown enough. Kara gathered it in with one hand, and grabbed the IV stand with the other and wheeled her way to the door. She cracked the door open and stared down the silent hallway.

Kara stepped back and closed the door. She went back to the exam table but did not sit. She turned and opened the door. She poked her head out and looked back and forth. Nobody.

She stepped out into the hallway and pulled the IV stand. She balanced the door on her fingers and clack.

"Dang it," she said. She closed the door. She pushed on the handle and opened it again. The door locked behind. She jiggled it again.

Another door clicked. Kara perked up, startled. Footsteps tapped towards Kara, from behind.

Kara spotted a short, rounded, African American female nurse, with perfect cornrows all in a line. She walked past Kara's door and she looked at her clipboard, not aware of another person.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Kara said. She shook the rust off of her vocal chords.

The nurse spun and threw her arms in the air. "Oh, my goodness! You scurred me! What is you doing thurr?"

"I was told somebody would come take me to a room to be checked in. I've been sitting her for awhile."

The nurse flipped through her clipboard and said, "That's the room you was brought into?"

"Yeah."

"I do not see it on hurr. Nobody is in thurr. Thurr has not been anybody put into the room since eleven o'clock."

"That would..."

"Oh, my... that's you? Are you Kara Foster?"

Kara nodded her head apoplectically.

"And you finna look for someone? Why ai not you looked for nobody 'til now? I'd have somebody's head rolling. Come wiff me. Yurr supposed to be on the fifth floor. Com'mon. I'll take you there myself. Goodness, gracious."

Kara trudged the hallway. She followed two steps behind the nurse.

The nurse talked all the way to the elevator.

"I'da been mad as hey-yell. I cannot believe they made you sit there for so long. I got to do it myself because nobody else 'round here can be responsible. This is ridiculous. A girl, as pretty as you, should get first class treatment. I cannot believe this. I finna talk to somebody," she breathed long enough and pushed the button on the elevator and the door opened.

Kara had a real smile for the first time since she had been at the hospital. She had forgotten why she was there. Her mind flashed to a moment before the rape, where she felt innocent again.

They met all social norms in the elevator. The hum of the elevator met five distinct dings. One ding sounded for each floor and an additional ding for the fifth floor. The nurse looked at the ceiling or at the lighted numbers. Kara smiled at her smudged reflection on the steel doors.

The fifth ding occurred, the doors bounced open, and the nurse resumed her talk as if the elevator was the reason she stopped in the first place.

"I cannot believe this place. On this floor, they will take curr of you. This hurr is the geriatric ward," she said. She maintained her eyes trained on Kara. "You know? And hurr the people sleep through the night because they're old and tarred," she said with a loud laugh, as if she was best friend's with Kara. "Tired," she corrected herself. "And this will give the nurses more time to assist you."

A short walk from the elevator and they arrived at the croissant shaped, cornflower blue, nurses station. The three nurses watched and blinked lights. They looked over their charts. Each took sips of their coffee in synchronized tandem.

A short blonde hair nurse glared over her glasses, pointed at Kara. Kara stood and clutched to her IV stand. The blonde nurse said, "What's going on here, Judith?"

"Whale, I'll tell you what's not gone on 'round hurr, Frances: Cust-omer service. They left this little lady in an exam room off the ER. Hurr doc said somebody would come take hurr to a new room. They put it in the paperwork, she moved but she sat thurr all alone in a hospital gown. This is why this place is under investigation all the time. We are going down the drain."

"My name is not Frances. You realize this is a geriatric ward, right? That young lady is just that, young," the nurse said.

"Mmm-hmm, yes, but we could have," Judith started in a loud voice but she switched to a whisper, "a lawsuit." She switched back to her normal voice, "So, I suggest you find a room for Kara and give her the royal treatment. I know all ya'll can do it like that."

"That one is open right there," Frances said. She pointed to her right, at the opposite end of the hall where Kara and Judith came in. "It's a little noisier because it's off of the hallways, and close to us, but we can assist her quicker."

Judith leaned back and looked to her left, "That'll do," she said. "Hurr is her paperwork and charts. I'll get her hooked up in thurr. Make sure she has her cable turned on. No charge." Judith grabbed Kara's right elbow, and escorted her into the room.

The room was a typical single person hospital room. It was an off rectangle with its own private bathroom.

Kara crawled onto the bed, which proved not as comfortable as the exam table in the emergency room. She pulled the white knitted blanket to her armpits and placed her hands, folded, on the top of the blanket.

"Do you need anything else?" Judith asked.

"I'm thirsty."

"Do you want a Coke?"

"Yeah."

"What kind?"

"Can I have a Dr. Pepper?"

"Girl, of course! Lem'me has a minute." Judith walked out of the room and down the hall.

Kara watched the door in anticipation of Judith's return. After a couple second's the noise of a slam filled the halls.

It sounded like a grocery cart crashed into a car. It repeated two or three times. The noise paused. But it happened again, followed by Judith who said, "Oh c'mon." Another slam occurred and then a plunk. "Thank you, Jesus."

Kara heard footsteps come back towards the room.

The footsteps neared and Judith said, "I could not get it out, Frances."

"Did you pay for it?" Frances responded.

"Mmm-hmm. I paid for it. I'm a have bruising in the morning for sure," Judith said. She came into the room. She laughed and twisted the cap off of the bottle.

"Here ya go, beautiful girl," Judith said. She handed the bottle Kara.

"I appreciate it," Kara said.

"Hurr's the TV remote. It also adjusts the back of the bed. I'm a go but do not hesitate. Ask for anything." Judith left Kara and shut the door.

Left all alone, Kara lay there, satisfied she might sleep. She flipped the switch on her bed railing and shut the lights off. She took a sip of her Dr. Pepper. She lowered the bed so the incline was minimal.

The city lights shone in the room because they reflected off the low-lying clouds. The reflection illuminated the sterile white walls. The curtain did not appear to be functional. The Santa Claus clock arrived at the room before Kara. It ticked on and counted ever second Kara laid there. It ticked like a metronome and provided the sterile backbeat for the scene.

Kara lay on her side and faced the window. She blinked every few seconds. She bent her legs and waist, and brought her hands, curled, underneath her face.

Her eyes were groggy. They weighed down despite her best effort. If she closed her eyes, pictures of the night played on the backs of her eyelids. If she stayed awake, her mind ran on overdrive in overtime.

I've been raped, she thought.

The stories filled the news. Rumors buzzed around school. Jodi Piccoult wrote "The Tenth Circle". However, she lived the story.

Rape.

Alone, she stared at the shadows on the ceiling, terrified of anything else. Sometimes she thought the shadows closed in on her.

The sound of Judith's laughs interrupted her thoughts. She was still at the nurse's station.

She drifted back into her thoughts.

Rape.

The rape was bad dream, Kara thought. If she fell asleep, maybe she would wake and find out it never happened. Time dragged out.

"You cursed clock," she said into the air.

Her parents. They would be upset with her. She had sex outside of marriage. They would not understand it. They would say she should be more conscious of signals she put off.

She thought about something else but it came back to the same thing.

Rape.

It did not go away.

Kara's parents would not have to know. She would not tell them. She wouldn't tell her sister either. She would be protecting them and the world would be unchanged. She didn't have strength. She couldn't bare this on her own. Maybe.

Clop, clop, clop.

What was that sound? Did he find her? A couple minutes passed and she convinced herself he had not or she had pretended he had not.

Kara coughed. Her throat closed on her.

Hiccup. She choked vomit.

The silence in the room was loud and clear. Loneliness wrapped itself that dreadful noise.

"Please, laugh again, Judith," Kara pled to the abyss of silence.

Breathe, she reminded herself.

I hate breathing. It's useless. If I did not breathe, I would not be here feeling this way. I do not want to feel this.

Kara clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Tears flooded her eyes. She blinked and sent the tears to her pillow. The rain and wind pounded the window and the heavens cried with her.

Kara lurched forward. She swung her feet to the side of the bed and threw up. It splattered the linoleum-tiled floor, between her bed and the window. She coughed, and heaved some more. A clinched ball tightened in her lower abdomen. She sat there, a mess of tears and vomit and blood and bruises.

The door flung open and the light flipped on. Judith rushed in. She gathered Kara's hair back over her shoulders.

"It hurts. I know. I've been there. It still hurts sometimes," Judith said. "My husband still cannot touch me sometimes because it takes me back to the day.

"Get it out, honey. Cry. Let it out. Nobody is finna mind it. Thurr hurring aids are out, most of them, anyway. Do what you gotta do. Do you want to take a shower? Get a change of scenery?"

Kara licked her lips. "Yeah," she scratched out.

"I'll get the shower warmed," Judith said. She walked into the bathroom, which was perpendicular to the bed.

The shower sputtered on and ran in the background. It blended with the sound of the rain.

Kara slouched on the side of the bed. Her feet hung inches from the chunks. The acidic smell wafted and permeated the air, but Kara was unmoved. The stream of rain, fall from a slot in the window flashing.

"It's ready and warm," Judith announced.

Kara blinked, but did not respond. She swung her legs over the foot of the bed and stepped off.

Judith lifted Kara's hand. Judith squeezed and removed the intravenous needle from Kara's wrist. She discarded the needle in the sharps dispenser by the bed.

Kara walked through the door and stopped in front of the mirror. First, she spotted the reflection of Judith two steps ahead. She untied her gown and dropped it to the floor. The gown floated and cased her ankles. She stared at her feet and wiggled her fingers, afraid to look at herself in the mirror.

Kara breathed deep and raised her head. She looked in the mirror and, for the first time, her broken body bore itself for her.

She bore her teeth and feigned a smile, but her bottom lip hung like a pleat. Her cheeks flexed with grief. She shut her eyes tight, her eyebrows lowered but the area above her eyebrows folded.

Kara put one hand on the mirror next to her face and stroked the reflection of the bruises and bloody and swollen parts of her face.

She bleated out a deep sob. Tears filled her swollen eyelids and they overflowed her chiseled cheekbone. They dropped off her razor sharp jaw line. Her tears refilled the pools of her collarbone.

She took in the pain, looked again, and cried out, "Yes, I hurt. He, he raped me... He hurt inside me... Why did this happen to me? Why did I let this happen? I wanted to wait.... But I could not..."

Kara stood, naked screamed, "Why?" She grabbed the sides of the sink and rattled it. She screamed again, "Why, God?" She squatted towards the floor. She clamped onto the sink, and cried softer, "Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?" She repeated her question into a whisper until the whole left side of her body was pressed against cold, tile floor.

She repeated, "Why?" She curled herself into a ball. She stuck her right leg out and pushed her foot against the wall so she mashed her back into the shower base.

Kara balled her little fists and gritted her teeth. She pounded the thumb side of her fists into her head and into her eyes. Between each pound, she cried through her teeth and grunted, "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

She lay and rocked herself, for two minutes but she wore herself out. She maintained her posture. Her fists held fast and she breathed and let out a groan between each breath. As if she had turrets syndrome, she would blurt, "Stupid," again.

Condensation covered the floor around Kara's body. The cold air chilled her and she shivered.

The moistness, the shower created in the air, was cold by the time it fell to the floor.

Fed up with the chill, she slid her left arm out from under her body and rolled to her stomach, so the fury of the cold floor was against the front of her body. She turned her face and Kara smeared a puddle of drool across her cheek.

She managed to her belly but she could not muster the muscle and could not pull herself over the ledge into the shower. Prostrate, she breathed into the floor, calmer than earlier. The floor pressed into her ribs and impeded her breath.

Kara rested a moment. She conjured enough energy for a wobbly pushup, and she dragged herself in an army crawl onto the fiberglass floor of the shower stall.

Like a slab of unsliced bacon, she dropped from her pushup on to the floor of the shower with a smack. Kara rolled her body back to her side and retracted back into the fetal position.

The warm water drizzled, angled downward and splashed the lower part of her body. The water cast a mist in her face. The steady fall of the water calmed Kara's body, but her spirit bled still.

She lay there, bare. She soaked. She bellowed sorrowful cries. She closed her eyes and tucked her thumbs under her breasts.

She gripped the air around her face. Her mouth was wide and she bore her teeth. Her body hopped with every breath she cried. Her heart physically burned in her chest like it crashed in on itself.

She prayed but no words came.

Her heart burned and the sensation trickled into her jowls.

She sobbed and whispered, "Lord Forgive me. Lord, forgive me. Forgive me."

Kara assumed the position and lay prostate. Her jaw ached from the strain. Her heart was so heavy and she ran out of words, so she prayed like Hannah. Words escaped her but her cries resounded and echoed from the walls. She called again in a whisper, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Lord, Jesus, Jesus."

At times, she pulled herself into a squat and rested all of her weight into the corner of the shower. She lost her tears, forever, down the drain. She went through fits of hard sobs. Other points, she had dry spells of no tears where she stared at the white fiberglass enclosure.

Sometimes she would stand and lean on her bent arms and rested it against the fiberglass. She continued in her thoughts.

She questioned God and his presence. The questions made her sick to her stomach. Her thoughts were contrary to the fiber of her being, but her being was contrary to how it had ever been. She questioned some more, but the emotional weight was too much. Her knees wobbled.

She bent in half and cried harder. She cried out long and steady cries like a deep tornado siren. From there, she fell to her knees, stuck her buttocks in the air, and planted her face to the ground. She embraced herself.

The flow encircled her lips. She blew the water, spit, and let it run down her chin into her mouth to wet her tongue.

After minutes in a squat, Kara calmed her cries. She stood and declared, "I'm so dirty."

Kara moved the showerhead towards the sidewall. She scrambled and opened the travel shampoo. She dumped globs of shampoo into her hand and lathered it into her hair.

She clambered and ripped the soap open. Her heart pounded and her breaths shortened. Kara wet the soap. She rubbed it until it foamed. She covered her body in the froth and repeated the suds until the soap had worn too small and it broke in half.

Half of the soap had fallen. In her anger, she squeezed the other half between her fingers. Kara let out a deep hoot and she threw the other half against the shower wall. It ricocheted off the wall, to the shower curtain and fell to the floor of the shower, next to the other half.

Kara grabbed the bottle of shampoo again and, whatever remained, she poured into her hair. She rubbed the shampoo until it bubbled in her hands. She spread the suds across her body.

A thin film of white soap glossed her skin like a necrotizing fasciitis.

Frustrated, she grabbed the two halves of the soap, which remained on the shower floor. She grunted and cried through the whole motion. She sandwiched the pieces and rubbed it against her skin. The two pieces slid in her fingers and she cleaned with fervor.

The stress and the steam made it hard for breathing. Her breaths were heavy and long. On occasion, she let out a brutish cough. The cough jostled her chest and every part of her body attached. Each breath preceded a cough and exposed her ribs. The detail to each rib bowed from her sternum and revealed her youthful fragility.

She inhaled. Her abs sunk and showed her tone. She was slender but healthy and fit.

Her fit ended. She moved the shower curtain and spotted an unopened bar of soap on the sink. She unwrapped the soap, as if she was a fat kid with a candy bar.

She washed her stomach. Her eyes bugged as she scrubbed.

The soap would not do. Kara scraped her nails against her flesh. The residue built under her nails and her skin reddened.

Kara rediscovered the sign her rapist had carved into her with his blade. The sign is what Dr. Green sent to Det. Sanchez. With more force than before, she scrubbed the emblem. No matter how much she scrubbed, the wound remained. After a little bit, she opened the wound.

The water hit it and it diluted the blood into a soft pink. She squeezed the lines. She drew more blood out and wiped the blood but it remained.

The soap made her body itch. Kara cupped her hand and gathered water. She splashed herself. Oh my gosh this burns. Please take this burn away.

This hope did not last long. She cleaned her buttocks. Her attempt at distraction was short lived because the soap broke in half again.

Kara grabbed the pieces quicker this time and rinsed them off. She gathered the other two pieces and sandwiched the four pieces. She rubbed them perpendicular to her skin and hoped the ridges could gather more dirtiness.

The wrinkled tip of her left index finger met the skin of her abdomen. She chucked the structure of the soap against the wall and then threw her hands in the air. She grabbed her hair and dropped back to the floor of the shower.

The water fell on her face. The pain lingered. The memories seized her mind and her body stiffened.

The pictures of the night streamed again on the backs of her steamed on her eyelids. All the things stolen, remained, as a memory. She squatted alone, in the city's largest hospital. Her tears shed in vain because the shower washed away any physical evidence.

The walls of the shower spun and crept in closer to Kara. In the isolation of the concrete building, Kara cried as loud as her weakened body allowed her. Old people slept. Nurses monitored. Gunshot victims wheeled into the operating room and Kara remained, alone.

Chapter Nine

John's mom arrived within twenty minutes.

John and Kat were on their way downtown. They headed to US 78 and made the left. They drove west towards Atlanta. John punched it to 75 miles per hour and climbed.

"Shoot," John said.

"What?" Kat said. She looked.

"Tail lights," he said. They slowed to a stop at the start of the Memorial Drive split.

They crept forward and drove into a bottleneck of some overnight lane closures. The construction lasted past North Hairston Road and the traffic flowed again.

"Come on," John yelled. Kat started. He shoved the breaks again and said, "What's with the traffic this time of night?"

He spoke and the traffic cleared. They zipped up I285, through Spaghetti Junction and came out, headed south on I85 into downtown. They drove past Grady Memorial and got off. They searched for the emergency room signs.

Kat's eyes darted, alert. The streets were empty. A semicircle group of men stood around a trashcan under a lamp.

A woman walked away from them a half a block away. She jawed off about something. Kat locked the doors.

John pulled to a red light. His eyes darted back and forth.

"There it is," Kat said and pointed at the sign.

They idled at the light and waited, and then a cab rolled up. John tapped his finger on the steering wheel. He looked both ways and but no one came.

"Screw this," he said. He lurched forward, through the red light and towards the ER. He looked in his rearview mirror and the light had changed.

The valet driver took the keys from John and gave him a ticket. John and Kat ran into the ER.

Det. Sanchez spotted them. "Mrs. Foster?" Sanchez asked.

"Where is she?" Kat asked.

"They cannot find her," Sanchez said.

Kat stopped, cold, her face paled.

"What do you mean?" John queried.

"She was examined and she was supposed to be moved after the exam. I went to question her and she was not there. They have not been able to find her."

"That's ridiculous," John said.

"My little girl," Kat said.

The emergency room manager came and said, "We're doing everything we can. Remain calm."

"My daughter was attacked and you lost her?" Kat said. She pulled her bangs.

John turned and hugged his wife and soothed her.

He was angry, but he hid it, he thought. He would not put Kara at greater risk and it anger would not help them find her quicker.

"Who's he?" John asked Sanchez. He pointed at Alex

"This is Alex. He's the one who fended off the attacker," Sanchez said. "Can we go into the lobby so I can talk you?"

John nodded. He led Kat. They both sat in plastic chairs upholstered for commercial use. Sanchez pulled up a chair and leaned in close.

"She was raped tonight," Sanchez said.

"Who?" Kat asked.

"Kara was," John answered.

"No. No!" Kat said. "My baby needs me!"

"We have reason to believe a serial killer raped her and would have killed her if Alex had not shown up."

"Where's my baby!" Kat screamed. She jumped to her feet. She ran to the ER manager, grabbed his frock, and screamed at him.

"Kat," John said. He stood by her, put his hand on her shoulder, and rubbed.

Alex grabbed her and peeled her from the manager. She lifted her hands and lunged towards the mangers throat.

Alex slid in front of her and wrapped his arms around her. She threw her fist into his ribcage but Alex said, "Shh... Shh... Shh..."

"I want to see my Kara," Kat cried.

"I know," Alex consoled.

John stood back and watched his wife crumble.

Chapter Ten

Kara got out of the shower, her skin soggy. She stepped once and looked into the foggy mirror. Heavy water droplets streaked the mirror. They dragged and grew as it slid.

Kara let out a deep sigh. She was still here. It was still real.

Kara grabbed the towel on the rack over the top of the toilet. She wiped with one streak, down the center of the mirror so she could see her face. She placed her hands on the counter top and she shook her head. She took the towel and shimmied it on her head.

She lowered her towel and dried her face and. She dropped it to her shoulders. She stared at herself in the mirror raise her hand to her reflection. She stroked the reflection of her face and comforted herself.

The mirror cleared more and her wounds manifested themselves in her eyes.

She stared at herself more and covered her mouth with the towel. Through the muffle of the towel she said, "I'm okay."

She dried off and she reached for a plastic comb from the basket over the towel rack. Kara bit into the plastic wrapper, which encased the comb. Her teeth tore the end off the pouch. She gagged on the plastic.

Kara slid the comb out of the pouch and stuck it into her hair. She slid the comb through her hair with ease with the exception of a few tangles. She parted her hair down the middle and split over the front and back of both shoulders.

Kara bent and retrieved her hospital gown. She put it on and tied it. She rustled through the basket further, and found a travel sized box with a tube of toothpaste and a plastic wrapped, shortened toothbrush.

She popped the box open, and dumped the tube out of the box into the sink. She also bit the end of toothbrush wrapper. Again, she gagged.

Kara reached and turned the cold water on and wet the bristles on the brush. She grabbed the tube out of the basin of the sink and twisted the lid off. She squeezed a dollop of gel onto the brush. She lowered the brush and paused. She stared at the tube. She grabbed the tube, titled her head back, and squirted toothpaste into her mouth. The toothpaste rested on her tongue, and she said, "Ah." The peppermint flavor sank in. She slid her thumb and index finger to the end of the tube. She guided them to the front of the tube. She squirted the remnant into her mouth in one motion.

Kara puffed her cheeks out and puckered her lips. She swished the gel around with saliva and diluted it. Frothy relics escaped from the elastic of her lips but she swished some more and made raspberry sounds. Her nostrils flared and retracted with the front to back swishes and her cheeks took turns expanding and detracting with each side-to-side swish.

Her eyes watered from the hotness and her nose ran. She leaned over the middle of the sink. She narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth wide. The massive amounts of toothpaste clapped against the porcelain sink and oozed down the drain.

She stayed in her position, with her eyes squinted and her mouth wide open. She cooled her mouth off. She cupped her hands and reached them under the water. She splashed the water into her mouth. She swished it in hopes she would cool her mouth.

Her mouth received a satisfactory level of coolness and she grabbed the toothbrush and scrubbed her teeth. She pushed hard, gave herself a deep cleanse. The white foam traced of pink and turned red. Red dominated. She finished, rinsed the toothbrush, and set it off to the side. She poked her bloody gums.

Kara dropped the toilet seat with a crash and plopped herself onto the seat. Her gown flowed over the sides of the bowl. She held her chin in her hand. Her elbow rested on her knee.

She peed.

"Ou," she winced. She stopped the flow because the soap burned.

Kara held her eyes shut, could not continuous stream. Two more squirts, she had enough. She peed and unrolled some toilet paper. She folded two squares over two squares, four times. She patted instead of wiped and she dropped. She finished and jumped up, flushed, washed her hands and exited.

Doing the routine things of life did not numb the ache. She got out of the bathroom. Judith remade the bed. Judith cleaned off the floor. Another two Dr. Peppers waited on the table next to the bed.

She paused, and crossed her arms over her chest. A smile peaked for the first time since she had first encountered Judith.

Kara crawled into bed and cracked open the first Dr. Pepper.

She bundled herself into the white cotton knitted blanket and shivered. She turned the lights off in the room, lay on her back, and stared. She rolled onto her side and tucked the blanket under her chin. She flipped onto her back and sighed.

"This is ridiculous," she said to no one.

She grabbed the television remote and pushed the power button. The white light from the television shone throughout the room. Kara plucked through the channels. She stopped on a channel with a sitcom marathon. She watched it awhile and muttered, "I've seen this one before."

She clicked and stayed on a station long enough and saw what was on it.

Kara got all the way to Channel 2 and then she stopped. "Breaking news," she said, "this could be interesting."

"We go to Channel 2 Action News reporter, Pam Smart, who has the latest on a developing situation," the anchor said. "She's outside of Grady Memorial Hospital. What's the latest Pam?"

"That's correct," Pam answered. She revealed her dimpled cheeks and straight, pearl teeth. "The name still has not been released since the victim is a minor, but we have received a confirmed report from the Gwinnet County Police Department. The police are calling this a serial attack by someone they are calling the 'Acolyte' because of the symbols he carves on his victims' abdomens. The difference between this attack and the others is the others ended in murder, Erin. Police say he has what Virgil Hurley calls a Judas Complex. That is, he thinks he knows better than God himself."

Kara turned the volume up and watched. There was something more exciting in the hospital than her, and it took her mind off of her own situation.

Erin asked, "Pam, what are the police saying about her survival?"

Pam pushed her dishwater blonde hair back under the hood of her poncho. She answered, "Yes, in fact, what they are saying, Erin, is an off duty Airman who is on leave from Dobbins Air Force Base, was at the mall watching a movie with his friends. He went back out to his car for something and from a distance noticed something suspicious.

"The Airman checked it out where he encountered an attacker. He fought the attacker off and called the police. It was a miracle he came.

"The thing which connects this to the other attacks, Erin, is there was a surface incision made into the victim's skin. The markings, they say, look like an Icthus, an early Christian symbol, resembling a fish. Through the middle of the fish is carved out an upside down cross. The police found this symbol on all the other victims. In addition, there was a clerical collar like this one here. The reason this victim lives is because of the heroic efforts of the Senior Airman.

"There's a new development," Pam said. "There are unconfirmed reports from unknown sources which state Grady Memorial Hospital somehow misplaced the victim, but Grady has yet to make a statement, confirming or denying the accusation. Yet, another strike against the Level One Trauma Center.

"Wow, Pam, how does that happen?"

Kara pulled herself to her seat, with her mouth and eyes wide open. She could not believe it was about her, but it was undeniable.

"They do not know where I am? They do not know where I am!"

Kara scrambled out of the bed. She slipped, but caught her balance and she pressed her nose against the window and looked towards the street. The WSB van and the cameraman were in view. Finally, she spotted the reporter.

Flustered, she pushed the window. She fumbled and found the lock and opened.

From the television, it seemed they neared the wrap of the news feed. Kara yelled out of the window and waved her hands.

"Pam Smart! It's me! Pam Smart! It's me!"

"It sounds like you have some adoring fans out there, Pam," Erin laughed.

"Sounds like it. Wait... what's that? I'm being told it's coming from one of the windows, high up in the hospital."

Kara livened up because she had discovered, "Hey, I'm who you're looking for! I'm the missing person in the hospital!"

"Erin, you will not believe this, but I think we found the missing victim," Pam said. "We're going to see if we can zoom in on her."

"I'm on the fifth floor," Kara cried out.

A dark shadowy figure appeared on Kara's television and the camera zoomed in on her.

"Breaking before our eyes, the lost victim has been found on the fifth floor, Erin," Pam said. Her face beamed and she giggled.

"I've got to go notify the family," Pam declared.

"Okay," Erin said, "What an interesting story."

The last scene from the spot news coverage was the camera focused on Pam's face as she stared up. She smiled. The rain glistened the natural glow of her cheeks.

Kara climbed back into her bed and turned the television off. The pillow puffed and hugged her head. The open window allowed the calm sound of the rain. The rain splattered on the concrete as a cool breeze blew the sterile curtains.

Kara's eyes weighed down, in conjunction to a sharp pain left eye. With her eyes closed, she fell into a sleep. Rapid eye movement crept in and her eyes had not closed yet.

Her mind at work, Kara, sat, wide awake with her eyes opened. She rolled to her right and grabbed the phone from the stand next to her bed. She dialed ten digits.

After three numbers, a voice said, "Your call cannot be completed as dialed."

Kara hung up and looked at a sticker on the phone. She read she must dial "9" first and the number.

"Come on, pick up the phone. Pick up the phone," she pled into the receiver.

"Hello? Mom?"

Chapter Eleven

Kat was stunned. John sat next to her. He stared but never touched her. Sanchez and Alex stood in the corner of the waiting room, and talked in hushed tones.

"They lost Kara," Kat repeated.

John said nothing.

"Mr. and Mrs. Foster?"

"Yes?" Kat stood and saw a camera. "No, I'm not talking to a camera."

"I'm Pam Smart from Channel 2 Action News. We found your daughter."

"What?" Kat said.

"She found me."

"Where is she?"

"Um," Pam hesitated.

"Fifth floor," the cameraman said.

Kat's leg buzzed. She reached into her pocket. She pulled out her smart phone.

"Hello?"

"It's Kara, Mommy! I'm on the fifth floor above the emergency room,"

"It's Kara," Kat said, relief swept across her face. "We'll be up!"

"I love you!"

* * *

Tears streamed and she hung up the phone. She grabbed her Dr. Pepper and took sips.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She chewed on her pinky nail and waited.

Breathe, she told herself. Her little hands gripped the bed sheets by her hips and her arms trembled. Her heart pounded in her chest. She stared through the dark at the door. Mere minutes passed, but the wait dragged on. Kara counted every tick and echo of the clock.

The latch on the door clicked and pushed open. Light shone around the door and caused appearance of the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Outside, there were some whispers and a knock.

"Come in?" Kara beckoned.

The door flung open and the stopper, which held the door open, fell. Four shadowy figures entered. The first emerged. Kara's eyes adjusted and she recognized her mother.

Kat came to Kara and sat on the bed, and threw herself at Kara. She lifted Kara so she sat. They hugged and cried. They rocked back and forth a few minutes but the other three shadows remained in the background.

"I'm sorry, Momma," Kara whispered.

"No, honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through this," Kat said. She rubbed circles with her fist on Kara's back.

Kat spoke into Kara's ear and continued, "Lord, we do not understand why this evil happens and why it happens to your people. We ask you comfort Kara, so she can feel your presence. Take this evil and turn it into good. We ask through your son Jesus, Christ. Amen."

The floodgates of Kara's tear ducts opened.

Kat reclined, and placed her grip on Kara's shoulders. "Listen to me Kara. This was not your fault. You did nothing to deserve this."

"That's right," another female voice echoed from the shadows. "And we will catch the person who did this to you." The female stepped into the light of the doorway, so the shadows eclipsed half of her face. "I promise," Det. Sanchez declared. She did a right face and walked out of the room.

Two figures remained, one Kara figured to be her father, but the other one she was not sure. The figure stepped up and bore something in his hands.

He approached and, "I'm Alex. I'm. I'm the one who fought off the pervert and called the police. I brought you this," he held out an Air Force hoodie. "I figured they would not let you keep the one you wore here, so I came to the hospital in hopes I would find you and give you this."

"Thanks," Kara whispered and she reached for the hoodie. She turned her gaze away from him towards the window. She swallowed hard and again said, "Thank you."

"I'll leave ya'll alone. If you need anything, let me know," Alex said. He bowed his head and walked out of the room.

Kara's father remained at the other end of the room: a shadow in the distance. Alex left and Kara turned her head towards her dad.

She sat with her hands over her lap like a proper lady. Her lower lip quivered. She strained her eyes at him. A blur but he stood his ground.

John was unmoved. She knew he was her dad because he wore his flannel shirt. It was how the flannel fit him and because he always wore it when it rained. Every couple of seconds, droplets of water had gathered in his shirt, fell and pitter-pattered on the floor.

Kat stared with puppy eyes, into Kara's eyes. She pulled her cardigan tighter as the cool air blew into the room. She wiped the bags under eyes, collected the tears. She wiped them into her dark brown, shoulder length hair. She placed her hand on Kara's face and stroked her cheek.

Kara blinked and flashes of tears fell. They fell not in vain, because Kat wiped them away with her thumbs. Kara's cheeks quivered opposite of her lips. She peered at her father, who still had not moved.

"Daddy?" she cried in falsetto.

He remained steadfast.

"Daddy," she cried again. She repeated the last syllable with each cry.

Still, there was no movement.

Kara cupped her hands over her mouth and continued her cry. She leaned forward, put her mouth into her mother's chest, and never lost sight of her father. Her body shook with every sound she made. Her mother rubbed her back and hushed her.

Kara looked through the shadows. Her father's shoulders jostled up and down. His hands remained pinned to his seam at first, but he could not contain himself any longer. He brought his right hand over his face and held his eyes. He stood there, straight legged.

"Why won't you come?" Kara cried and her voice climbed higher.

"He's scared, Honey," Kat explained.

Kara was horrified. "I need you, Daddy," Kara pled.

John appeared like he moved closer to Kara's bed.

Kara's demeanor metamorphosed into a smile, but he had not moved.

"I love you, Daddy," Kara said.

It was all he could take. He made his final approach towards his daughter.

He came to her. She reached her bent arm upward and invited a hug. He placed his slightly balding head into her embrace.

"I'm sorry baby," he cried, "I'm so sorry."

John continued his squeeze. Kat held Kara's right hand and rubbed her husband's back with her other hand.

The three Foster's squeezed each other. Tears fell more plentiful than the rains of Atlanta. A blend of sorrowful cries, steeped in guilt and helplessness, resonated throughout the room.

Kat cried, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Come Lord Jesus."

John offered nothing except tears.

The three huddled and cried until they wore out. They broke their huddle and all stared off into space. The tears were exhausted and the three became restless. They squirmed and in awkward silence.

Kat said, "Okay, Honey, we are going to let you get some sleep. We'll be back in the morning. I'll ask the nurses when they think you might be discharged and we will come a little later so you can have a chance to sleep."

"Okay," Kara obliged.

"We love you," Kat said as she bowed and kissed Kara's left cheek on her swollen flesh.

John flashed half of a smile, but said nothing. They turned and left Kara on her bed.

"I love you, too," she said.

Kara watched her parents leave. She sat on her bed with one leg tucked under the other, the other popped out, and it dangled off the bed. Her heart warmed and she smiled like a kitten. The wounds did not heal but she felt safety with the knowledge her parents were there.

Kara fell back onto her pillow. She pulled her covers and stared into the ceiling. The Santa Claus clock lulled into a gray noise and pulled Kara into sleep.

She blinked. Each concurrent blink lasted a little longer than the last. With each blink, the ceiling seemed further away than before. The further it got, and the less she saw it, the more it spun. The more it spun, the heavier she breathed and the more her stomach twisted. The more her stomach twisted, the harder her head pounded but exhaustion took over.

The southwest winds blew and the rains fell. The curtains rustled in the wind and the sound of sirens blared on the distant ground below. Kara slept soundly, in the comfort of her parents support.

Breathe, Kara told herself on the precipice of sleep.

, Kara was out cold.

Chapter Twelve

The Acolyte did not sleep at all. His failure bothered him. He had seen Channel 2's coverage and it offered the most comfort. He recorded the coverage on his computer. He edited it and removed some of the graininess.

He admired the police for the nickname they gave him. He admired the term Judas Complex. He disagreed. God told him to do these things. It was not a complex. It was a divine revelation. Judas did not do what God did not already preordain him to do.

He relived the event. What he remembered. He crouched patiently by the passenger wheel well and watched her. She disappeared out of view. The anticipation grew. Her shoes scrape the pavement. The locks clapped open. The motor in the driver side sliding door hummed. He reached and grabbed the passenger handle and the door too slid open. The Acolyte climbed in, grabbed her arm and everything went gray and fuzzy after that. Until he was knocked out of the van.

But it was real. She survived. Like any other girl in any other situation, the pain hid deep inside. It had not surfaced. He paused his TiVo and zoomed it on Kara's shadowy face. "That's what she looked like in the van," he said.

Her picture made him excited again. His briefs rubbed the right way and his mind would be on nothing else until he finished the job.

He finished quick but he did not clean himself. He pressed play on the video again, his underwear rested on his ankles.

"Pam Smart," he said. She was hot, but ignorant. She would have been like all the others, if she knew him. She would be ripe for redemption, he thought.

The Acolyte searched her name on the internet. He added Channel 2 Atlanta to the search.

He printed her picture from the station web site and cut it out, and added it to his collection, next to Kara's picture.

He couldn't plan her quick enough. After the night's disappointment, he needed something sooner. He had a backup plan.

Krista Plum was someone he could do in a quick emergency.

He reached for a yearbook and searched until he found the 2009 Greater Atlanta Christian School yearbook.

Krista went to school at GAC. She'd run away half way into her sophomore year. Nobody knew what happened to her, but she'd walked by Turner Field one night. He'd been on his way to a party and he knew.

He cut her photo out and replaced the Pam Smart photo. He put Pam's photo back up, next to Krista's photo.

He was not sure if he liked Pam but he could not keep his eyes from her. She seemed like the type.

He made his way to the internet. He clicked to a pornographic site, which had videos. He watched for two minutes and he relieved himself. He reclined in his chair and let his arms dangle at his side. The video played, but his eyes pierced through Pam.

Birds chirped. He yawned at the early morning sounds. The light shone through his closed blinds. He cleaned himself off with a sock and climbed into his unmade bed, despite the morning.

Chapter Thirteen

Kara's sleep did not continue quite as it began.

Every half an hour, on the half hour, she awoke the same way each time. She was startled, and sat on occasions. Her heart pounded and she breathed like a woman in labor. Her gown was drenched with sweat. Her pillow and hair were soaked, and the sheets doused in her saline.

Kara fell back to sleep. Each time she woke up, it was a little harder to sleep as the clock became soothed and the city lights reflected brighter off of the low clouds.

The last couple of hours, she tossed and turned, but she did not wake. Promptly at 8:00 a.m., the bells tolled at Big Bethel church, two blocks away.

The gongs roused Kara. She made her way upright and peered through squinted eyes.

Confused, she blinked. She strained and her eyes open.

The storm blew through and the sun shone. She rolled away. Her hair crunched with dried sweat. She rolled and pulled her blanket over her eyes.

She pulled her blanket, but her feet hung out at the bottom. The balmy air tickled her toes. She huffed and puffed, and flipped and flopped and nuzzled her bedding. She squirmed and wiggled.

At one point, she noticed a nurse milled around the room, with a clipboard in hand.

Kara bellowed a grunt. She froze the nurse in her tracks. "When do I get to go home?" Kara squeaked through her tight vocal chords.

"You should, sometime later this morning. The doctor does not come in until 8:30 and then he has to do his rounds. You could be first or last. It depends on where he starts."

"Oh. Can I have some Tylenol? I have a headache," she declared.

The nurse nodded and made a quick exit. She returned with a paper ketchup cup with two red and white, Tylenol Gel Tabs and a flowery paper cup of water.

Kara tipped the cup of Tylenol into her mouth and washed it with water. She crunched her eyes shut and swallowed. She looked to her nightstand where a warm Dr. Pepper waited.

Kara grabbed it and twisted off the cap. She put the opening to her dry lips, and closed her eyes. She tipped her head back and the Dr. Pepper tingled the sides of her tongue with each sip.

She had a couple drinks of the bottle and sighed. She removed the bottle from her mouth and savored the flavor. It refreshed her.

A nurse interrupted her Nirvana and said, "I did not find you filled anything out for breakfast. Did you want breakfast?"

Kara opened her eyes but did not make eye contact. She said, "What kind of cereals do you have?"

"Rice Krispies, Corn Flakes and Bran Flakes," she listed.

"No thanks," Kara declined. She closed her eyes and took another sip.

Kara popped the TV on and vegetated. She watched a movie, already in progress, on a Superstation. She yawned, but she refused sleep.

"Man this bed is lumpy," Kara muttered to herself: her back ached. She felt around the mattress by her right leg pushed down some of the lumpiness. It was not the mattress, but it was something on top of the mattress.

She fidgeted and pulled. It was under more than her leg so she scooted and pulled on it more. First, she pulled a black sleeve. She pulled a whole sweatshirt from under herself.

She smiled and bit her lip. Alex's sweatshirt. She pulled it to her nose and a hint of Adidas Moves masqueraded behind the smell of sleep.

Kara swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet clapped against the cold linoleum tiles. Her feet pitter pattered into the bathroom and closed the door.

Kara untied her gown and dropped it to the ground. She did not look in the mirror a long time, but she was quick and got the sweatshirt on. The inside of the sweatshirt was still soft, like it was new.

It hung over her thigh. The elastic bottom hugged her flesh. The sleeves hung past her hands. She bent her arms. She grabbed the chest of the shirt to her nose again and smelled it.

She dropped her arms and looked at the logo on the front of the sweatshirt. She traced one of the two halves of a Laurel Wreath, which framed the base and sides of the logo. Inside the wreath was a shield. A bomb decorated with a star filled most of the shield and crisscross lightning bolts were sandwiched between the shield and the bomb. Crowning the top of the logo was a full Laurel Wreath with an identical, larger one inside and tucked under the wreath. The logo was white with shades of gray.

Kara turned and looked at the back. The graphic began below the hood and was much larger than the one on the front. It was similar in its design, except the lightning bolts were more like a serrated knife. It extended further than the picture itself. Instead of another Laurel Wreath crowing the shield, a skull with top teeth and no jaw topped off the illustration. The details curved over the letters "USAF EOD" and curved underneath the words, "Cannot Stop the Rock".

Kara crossed her arms and embraced herself. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and she shuddered. The sleeves were stiff like with starch and the fabric was saturated black. She rubbed her arms and felt the softness of the textile against her body.

"I do not have any other clothes," she said.

Kara left the bathroom and reached for the phone. She dialed her mom's number and waited. She paced the room and flossed her bottom front teeth with her pinky fingernail.

"Mom," she said, "it's Kara... Are you coming to see me soon... Oh, you're going to church first? The doctor can be here soon... Yea... When you and Daddy come, can you bring me some clothes? Bring me a bra and underwear and sweat pants and flip flops... Oh... Dad's not coming... You can bring it cannot you? Oh, I have to go; the detective from last night came in. I'll see you in a little bit. I love you momma... K, bye."

"Hi," Kara sighed. She did not make eye contact. She plopped onto the bed. She crossed her hands over her lap and straightened her shoulders to a perfect posture. Her image reflected in the bathroom mirror. She patted her hair, ran her fingers through it, and straightened it the best she could.

"Hi, Kara, how are you," Sanchez said. She rested her left hand on the right corner of the foot of the bed and held a floppy brown attaché case in her other hand.

"I'm doin' good. I'm doing a good job not thinking about it, today, and it is working. It feels like it was a bad dream, except I woke up in the same place where the bad dream ended," she explained exhaled through nose. She inhaled deep and held it, puckered her lips, opened her eyes wider and released.

"It did happen, Kara. It happens too much. Many times familiar people commit rape and sometimes rape is committed as a random act. Regardless, I know it's difficult to talk about," Sanchez said. She hoisted herself on the end of the bed, an arm's length away.

"This is not a normal case, Kara," Sanchez said. "Whatever the reason or reasons, it's bigger than you. This concerns the monster that did this, did it to three other girls and it is possible there is a fourth. We need to stop him."

Tears sprang in Kara's eyes and all she could do was stare at the tiles on the floor.

"This person needs to be brought to justice and all we have are cold cases. We do not have anything new and unless you help us, we have one more victim with the same dead ends," Sanchez pled. She looked into Kara's eyes, "I do not want to talk to you about you," Det. Sanchez assured. She reached out her hand and put it on Kara's right shoulder.

"Do not," Kara said. She flashed a scowl towards Det. Sanchez through clenched teeth, "touch me," she hissed.

Kara slid her feet to the floor, stood and turned away towards the corner of the wall. She clenched her fists inside of her sleeves and she stood with perfect posture to the fullness of her height. She added an additional quarter of an inch to her five foot five, height.

"I will help you," Kara scolded, "but do not you ever touch me again. I do not know you and whatever happened to you does not give you the right to touch me."

"I'm sorry," Sanchez said. She swallowed hard and retracted her touch. She opened her attaché case and pulled out a manila envelope. It wrinkled in her hands and she loosened the string.

"I've got some pictures I want you to look at," Sanchez said. She shuffled through the envelope and pulled glossy black and white pictures out.

"We think there is a link in these murders but we do not know what the link is. I'm hoped you might know what the link is."

Kara brought her fists to her cheeks. She shook her head. "No. I cannot do it."

"Please, consider it."

"I'm tired."

"One or two."

"I think I'm going to barf," Kara said. She covered her mouth with her sleeve.

Kara breathed. She cleared her mind of any thoughts, eased her posture, and returned to her spot on the bed.

Kara looked sideways at the top photograph, out of the corner of her eye. She covered her mouth with her sleeve. She inhaled and turned her head away.

"She's Grace-Leigh Henderson, the shooting guard from the Wesleyan Wolves." She swallowed and whispered, "Is she... dead?"

"She was the first."

"Oh, God," Kara coughed.

"How about her?"

"I cannot look, anymore," Kara said. Her stomach wretched.

"You can stop him," Sanchez said.

Kara held her hand to her forehead, like an actress in a black and white movie. Her brain spun in one direction and her eyes a different direction.

She breathed and looked.

"Tammy Stevens, point guard, Blessed Trinity Titans," Kara said, her face stoic.

"Her?" Sanchez said. She maintained momentum and continued the questions.

"Kaliyah Thompson, power forward for the Villains out of Bishop McGuinness High School in North Carolina."

"She was here, visiting a friend. How do you know her?"

"I do not. Not personally. Her reputation is she's good. She was supposed to be an All Star this year and some people in our conference have talked about her from the invitationals. A lot of this stuff is on TV, or on the internet."

Det. Sanchez shook her head. The pictures swooshed to the next one.

"Kingie Coole?" she said. She enunciated the "e" and asked "She's gone too?" She whispered, "Forward, St. Pius Golden Lions."

"I cannot do this anymore." Kara stood and stuck her arms out like penguin wings. She took one step, and stumbled. Her legs wobbled and she fell to her knees with her hands out as if she was in the start position for a cross-country race. She brought her hands to her face.

"Whoa, dizzy," Kara said. She barfed in a single heave and missed her shirt but splattered onto the ground.

Detective Sanchez glanced at the vomit but she pressed on. "Kara, I'm sorry but we are close to something. So the thing you all have in common is basketball?"

"We all play at Christian or private schools," Kara grunted from her crouch. "Kaliyah does..."

"I have a couple other pictures of girls who were approached by guys who fit the descriptions. I want to see if you know them."

"Can you tell me their name and I'll tell you if I know them."

"Privacy laws prevent me from giving you their names."

"Bring them to me," Kara said.

Det. Sanchez put the others away and she knelt by Kara. She pushed her brown hair behind her ears. Then she put the pictures in front of Kara.

Kara grabbed the pictures.

"Emma Smart, point guard for the Westminster Wildcats."

"Emma was lucky. We believe this was the first attempt, but she was going to meet her boyfriend. The attacker had made crude comments wrapped in some religious gibberish. Emma's boyfriend came and scared him off. They reported the suspicious behavior.

"The police did not think anything at first. In hindsight, it fits the same mode of operation. When these other cases came up, the lead officer suggested, we look at it. We did not have a strong connection, but you've given us a connection.

We'll go back and talk to Emma and see what else we can get from her," Sanchez explained.

Kara whooshed to the next photo. She held onto Emma's photo. "Ashlyn Tanner. She's forward for the Marist War Eagles."

"Coach Hixon prevented this one the same day the attacker confronted Emma. The attacker approached Ashlyn at school one night when she left 'open gym'. They said he was delirious and he shouted his hands down his pants. We connected this one to Emma's encounter, but again, we were not sure if there was a connection to the murders.

"All of these are North and East suburbs of Atlanta. None of these is further than twenty-five miles of the other's. The girl from North Carolina visited a friend in Tucker. The attacker pulled her off the Marta train in Decatur. She booked a late flight back to North Carolina and it was dark. Nobody saw her and nobody has seen her since."

"I cannot believe this," Kara said. She shook her head and picked her lips. "I've been so busy the last month or so I had not seen any of this on the news at all." Kara paused. Sanchez sat beside her.

"You would not have heard who it was anyway," Det. Sanchez said, "since they are all minors we protect their identity."

Kara stared, but did not respond. Kara asked, "They all got cut on their belly like this, too?"

"Yes, this is the single link we have. It was the same person. You helped us link him to Emma and Ashlyn too. Because these are private schools, as you have pointed out, the students can live anywhere in the metro. I'm guessing six or seven thousand students attend these schools, half of whom are female and half of whom are in the projected age range. We are talking about several hundred homes in the city and friends of out of town basketball players.

"Can you answer another question for me?" Det. Sanchez asked.

"I'll try," Kara whimpered.

"Let's start with something easy. Walk me through everything as it happened until the point you had your first contact with the perpetrator. Tell me what happened from the point you left work until you got to your car."

Kara sniffled. "You said I did not have to talk about me."

"You're doing, so well."

"I do not remember."

"What do you remember?"

Kara stared. She hung her head forward. Her jaw trembled. She snorted, but the snot was heavy on her lip. It overflowed into her mouth.

Kara turned her bloodshot eyes stared into Det. Sanchez eyes.

Kara's voice waivered. "I was done with work for the day. I told Annie I could not walk out with her because I parked by the food court. I was so dumb."

She lost her composure to her tears but then she regained it. "I walked by a couple of the janitors, some people going to see a movie and said goodbye to my friend who works at McDonalds. I stopped by the bathroom. I went outside and when I came out of the bathroom I saw, the McDonalds' employees had left.

"I walked through the parking lot alone. I parked my car all the way at the end of the parking lot because when I came to work the lot was full.

"I was so tired. We had a pre tryouts tryout today, and I had to come into work. It was a busy day. I could not stay on my feet."

Det. Sanchez scribbled some notes on a pad of paper. Between notes, she set her hand on her tape recorder.

"It was so eerie out.

"What do you mean? Like you could sense him?" Sanchez clarified

"No, I'm always nervous when storms blow in so I thought it was that. There was nothing at all, just me, and my dad's van.

"Halfway across the parking lot, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and started the van with a remote starter so the van would be cool by the time I got in."

Det. Sanchez interrupted and said, "I thought it was storming out and cooling off, why would you turn the air conditioning on by the time you got to the car?"

Kara thought for a moment and answered, "Habit... It had not stormed yet and it was pretty warm. I do not know."

"What happened after you started the car?"

"I walked towards it and as I got close enough, I pushed another button and unlocked the door before I hit another and opened the sliding door on the driver's side and I set my bag inside the car.

"Then," she paused, "he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the car. The other door was open too."

Det. Sanchez asked, "Do you think he was in your car for awhile or do you think, perhaps, when you unlocked the doors and opened the driver side door perhaps he hid until that moment, out of your sight, and took advantage of the opportunity of the unlocked doors and came on in?"

The question silenced Kara. She lived the rape again. It seemed longer, but her cries were real. The memory seemed real. He grabbed her. She replayed it again.

"Kara?" Sanchez called.

Kara's lip quivered. She remained still. "I do not know," she cried. "I cannot remember everything."

Det. Sanchez took a moment. She asked another question. "Do you have any idea who would do this to you? I mean it sounds like he put a lot of work into planning this."

"I have no clue," Kara squeaked. "I have no idea and I feel bad because he knew who I was."

"How do you know?" Det. Sanchez inquired.

"He said my name. He talked like we had known each other."

"And did you know him?"

Kara continued shrilly, "I mean I must have known him. I could not recognize him. He wore a hat pulled to his eyes. I could not see his face. It was dark. I cannot remember anything."

"You're doing fine Kara. We also found a clerical collar at the scene. It looks like this one," Sanchez said, pulling a tab out of her pocket.

"No, I'm Baptist, not Catholic. Why?"

"There has been one of these at each crime scene. We cannot figure it out." Sanchez dropped it back in her pocket.

"I'm done asking you questions. I'm going to go to process this data. You've been a lot of help and I feel like I have direction," Sanchez said.

"Thank you, Kara. I will be in contact with you," Sanchez said. She stood and put the photos back into the manila envelope, and sealed it. "Oh. A state psychologist will be calling in the next few days to set up an appointment. You can go to her or you can get somebody on your own. The girl, I'm going to refer you to, is good. She's a personal friend of mine."

"Okay," Kara said. Sanchez' abruptness surprised her. She hoisted herself back to her feet and climbed back into bed.

Det. Sanchez came back into the room and said, "I forgot to ask you. Do you think, Alex, the guy from the Air Force might be responsible for this?" She asked and pointed at Kara's sweatshirt.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

"He fits the description," Det. Sanchez said.

"I know his voice. It's not Alex," Kara argued. She rolled onto her right side and grimaced out the window.

"Just checking," Det. Sanchez asked. She did an about face, and headed out of the room.

"Hey," Kara called out.

Sanchez stopped and looked.

"How long does it last?"

"The investigation?"

"The flashbacks."

"It's hard to tell," Sanchez said.

Kara lay in the same position and stared out the window. She muttered, "I cannot believe she would suspect him."

Sanchez shuffled out of the room.

Nurses came in and out of the room every hour and checked on Kara, but she did not budge.

Pseudo-catatonic.

Kara did not cry. She stared, frozen like a stone sculpture. Other than the scrapes and bruises on her face and her lower legs, she had gotten paler since Det. Sanchez had left.

"I feel sick," Kara said to the nurse who came in.

"Like what?"

"My stomach," Kara said. She burped on cue.

The nurse left and came back in with a paper ketchup cup. "It's Phenergan," the nurse announced.

Kara looked over her shoulder. A thin African American nurse, with perfectly lined cornrows came in. "Nice to meet you Phenergan, I'm Kara but I'm not in the mood for chit chat."

"No, this is Phenergan," she said. She utilized her nose. "This will calm your stomach and put you to sleep. It's a catch all for whatever ails your stomach."

Kara grabbed the cup with the medicine. She left the nurse with the cup of water. She grabbed her warm, sweaty, bottle of Dr. Pepper and sipped the two mauve tablets.

"You know, you're not the one who's gone through shit in this place."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you think 'cause your white you can lay your sorry ass in this bed all day and have daddy's insurance cover it. You ain't hurt far as I can tell."

"This is none of your business."

"Sure ain't but sure as hell should not be the hospital's business neither."

"I did not ask for this."

"Naw, life is all pretty in the 'burbs of course you did not ask for this. Daddy's little..."

"Get out of my room!" Kara screamed and cried. Kara opened her eyes and the nurse fled. Her eyes burned with tears and saline and her eyes became weary.

The bells pealed again at Big Bethel Church.

Kara did not hear the clangor of the bells. The Phenergan turned Kara's grogginess into sleep, once again.

Kara nestled in. She moaned on occasion. She hit her rapid eye movement, and it accounted for her only movement. A pool of drool fell to the bed sheet: the single thing, which emanate from Kara's body as she slept into the afternoon.

At one point, the doctor came in and woke her, long enough to tell her, "You are a little dehydrated."

Kara blinked and stared at the doctor, but said nothing.

He said, "I won't sign off on a discharge until you have become hydrated, so I am ordering you to be put back on an intravenous drip." He looked at her last dose of Phenergan and ordered, "She needs another 50 milligram of IV Phenergan."

The nurse put a fresh bag on the stand and poked Kara's arm with a new IV at the bottom of the bend in her arm. The nurse picked up a pack off the nightstand. He pulled a premeasured syringe of Phenergan and then he flicked the vile. He inserted the sharp of the syringe into the IV and injected the fluid into Kara's arm.

Kara mumbled, "Wow, this stuff is cold. I can feel that stuff move up my arm."

Kara's complaint did not deter the nurse. He disposed of the sharp and then left.

Kara lay on her back, afraid she'd knock the IV out. She tightened her fist and relaxed it. The cold moved up her arm and into her shoulder.

"Oh man, it tingles. I think my arm is asleep." She looked and nobody was in the room. "Oh man," she slurred. Kara turned her head toward the bathroom and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she slept again in full-blown snores.

Her intravenous bag was empty in a half an hour. She slept, and a nurse put another bag on.

After the doctor discharged her, Kara's parents came. The male nurse, who gave her the second dose of the Phenergan, rolled in a wheelchair.

The nurse removed the needle. He put a swab over the puncture and taped it to her arm. He snapped his gloves off and tossed them into the biohazard bin.

"Kara, honey, wake. Let's go home," Kat said. Kara gently snored.

"Ma'am," the nurse said, "she's had two doses of Phenergan, today, to help with the nausea. From my experience, that stuff'll knock you out. She may sleep until tomorrow."

"Oh," Kat said.

The nurse lifted Kara and placed her onto the wheel chair. The hair on the left side of her hair, fanned out like a peacock tail.

Her bottom hit the seat and she awoke. She looked around, dazed. She looked across the room. She panned and saw her mom and whispered, "Hi, Mom."

"Hello," Kat said. She feigned a smile.

"Do you want your clothes?" Kat asked.

"No, thank you, ma'am," Kara muttered.

"Dad, you came," Kara smiled.

Like a caravan of nomads, the nurse rolled Kara, and her parents followed. The chair wheeled on. Her head bobbed. She looked through narrowed eyes.

They got on the elevator. It dinged four times and the doors opened. Out they rolled, to the automatic doors, through them and to the sidewalk.

The sun shone in brilliance and Kara covered her eyes. It was two steps to Kat's Taurus. The nurse stopped and Kara swayed forward. The nurse engaged the break, stepped and intended on lifting Kara into the car.

He leaned in. Kara stopped him and said, "No, no, no, I've got it."

The nurse stood back and Kara wobbled. She lifted herself out of the chair. The nurse put his hands out and guided her as she hobbled to the car and opened the door. She turned backwards and nestled onto the seat. She lifted her legs. She gave up, fell back, and flayed her legs. She scooted into the car.

John went to the other side of the car, and opened driver side back door. The nurse grabbed Kara under her armpits and dragged her across the leather bucket seats, into the car.

"Thank you, Daddy," Kara said. She kissed the air towards the nurse.

Kara stared out the window. Her head bobbed and her vision blurred. Around the block they went and onto Interstate 75. Kara remembered nothing else.

The drive home lasted an hour. The car pulled into the driveway.

Towers of long needled pine trees filled the lot. Layers of red pine straw blended with the red clay. The green grass barely poked through this late in the summer.

Kara awoke because the car lurched to a stop. She looked and stretched. She opened the door and stepped her bare feet onto the dry red pine straw which covered the black asphalt.

She detected a black Ford Escort parked in the driveway. She continued past it and her parents lagged behind. She opened the storm door and reached for the knob. She opened the door and her grandmother sat on the edge of a black recliner.

Kara flashed a wave and her grandmother returned one. Kara nosedived into the couch and went back to sleep.

"Oh," Grandma said. She stood and went to the basket, which sat on the other side of the sofa. There, she pulled a bright blue handmade afghan and covered Kara. Grandma tucked her in and kissed her forehead.

Kat and John meandered through the open front door and closed it. Kat kissed Kara on the cheek and adjusted the afghan closer to Kara's chin.

The three adults left and Kara continued her sleep. She did not budge, nor did she make a noise. Day turned into night. Night turned to the wee hours of the morning.

Kara awoke and made her way to the bathroom. She came out of the bathroom and saw the green numbers on the microwave read 3:07 am.

"Oh," she moaned and she threw the back of her wrist on her forehead. She walked out of the kitchen to the staircase. She walked up the stairs, found her way to her room, fell on top of her comforter, and passed out the rest of the night.

Chapter Fourteen

Sunlight crept into Kara's bedroom. It crawled through the window, covered the floor, and crept into her bed. It butterfly-kissed her and roused her. She rolled and pulled her pillow over her head, but it was too late. She was awake.

If she lay there, she would go back to sleep, she thought. She was cozy and she did not want to find out what the temperature was outside of her covers.

Kara gave up. She opened her eyes and blinked. Her eyes adjusted to the eclipsed light. She covered her mouth and yawned.

The rape flashed through her mind again. It was real.

Kara sighed and her stomach turned. She rolled to her stomach and folded her pillow around her head.

"No, no, no, no-no-no-no," she yelled, muffled.

Maybe it was a dream. If she could sleep. Maybe I'll wake up on the other side of the rainbow. It worked for Judy Garland.

Cereal clanked into a stoneware bowl, and another. Flatware clanged against the bowls and it distracted her.

Kara's stomach rumbled like Pavlov's dogs. She had not eaten since Saturday night before work.

She rolled onto her back and threw her pillow towards the door. She groaned and sat. She pinned her temples between her index fingers and she regained her balance. She looked at the clock and it read 7:21. She groaned again.

Kara rubbed her eyes and picked the sleep out of them. She scooted off the side of her queen size bed. The softness of cotton from her lemon drop colored comforter rubbed against her soft skin.

Kara's feet thumped on the Berber carpet. She walked to her upright log dresser. She pulled on the bottom of three drawers and selected a pair of gray velour bottoms. She bent, put her left foot in and then her right foot in, and pulled them with a bounce. She tied the drawstring as she walked to the door. She flung the door the rest of the way open. Kara tiptoed down the stairs and headed into the kitchen.

John bellied to the breakfast table in the kitchen, and read the current Atlanta Journal and Constitution. He donned a black one-button suit. In front of him, an empty bowl glazed with milk and a steamy cup of coffee, browned with cream. Next to the mug sat a bottle of creamer, top still popped. Next to the creamer was an open box of Bran Flakes whose nutrition facts were parallel to the newspaper.

Kat sat perpendicular to John and faced the kitchen. The sun shone into her eyes but she sipped on her coffee. Her right hand gripped a spoon, which she tucked into a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

Kat spotted Kara above the crest of her mug.

"Hi, Sweetheart," Kat said.

"Hi," Kara said undeterred.

Kara got a red cereal bowl from a dark wood cabinet. She set the bowl on the gray granite countertop and grabbed a box of Reese's Peanut Butter Puff cereal from the cabinet under the counter from the bowls. She poured a heap of cereal and took a few off of the top. She popped them into her mouth and put the box away.

Kara flung the refrigerator open. She held onto the handle. She grabbed a jug of whole milk and plunked it on the countertop. She grabbed a glass carafe of fresh squeezed orange and clanked it on the counter. She took two side steps to the right, and opened the cabinet to the right of the sink.

Kara set a green mug and a Tervis tumbler on the counter. She reached for the pot of coffee on the maker and poured some coffee. The coffee maker rumbled and heated water.

Kara walked her mug to the table and set it across from her mom. She went back, grabbed the tumbler, and set it by her bowl. She poured three quarters of a glass of orange juice and poured milk until kibbles of Reese Puffs avalanched onto the table.

She left the milk, grabbed her bowl and orange juice, and took her seat. She took a spoon out of a utensil holder in the middle of the circle table and stabbed it into her bowl. She forced kibbles to fall on the table. She bowed her head three seconds and then dug in. She horked the cereal and mixed in a couple sips on her orange juice between spoonfuls.

She finished. Her dad put his newspaper down and leaned in for a kiss from his wife. She obliged.

"I have to get going to work," John said.

"Have a good day, John," Kat said.

"You too, Kat," he responded. He walked by Kara. He grabbed his brief case and walked out the door.

Kat rifled through the newspaper and pulled out the comics. She unfolded it and hid behind the comics.

Kara crunched her Reese's and stared at the back of the Comics page. She dropped her spoon into an empty bowl.

Kat lowered the paper, peered over the top, and made eye contact. She pursed her lips.

"He realizes I'm here, right?" Kara asked.

"He had to leave for work," Kat answered.

"You realize he's ignoring me?"

"This has been hard on him, Kara," Kat said.

"This has been hard on him? Has he considered how I feel? It does not make it any easier when my own father ignores me," Kara complained.

"He's coping," Kat said. She diverted her eyes back to her newspaper.

"I feel like I've lost my father, not my virginity. I do not have the luxury to cope."

"You're not the only who got hurt, you know," Kat snapped.

"What?" Kara said. She threw her arms in the air and slammed her fists into the table. She scooted her chair back and popped up.

"He'll come around," Kat appeased.

Before Kara stormed off the thump-thump of her sister traipsed down the stairs froze her in her tracks. Rachel.

"Kara!" Rachel said. She wrapped her arms around Kara. Rachel's baggy nightshirt engulfed Kara. Rachel padded back and forth on the balls of her feet and maintained her bear hug.

"Rachel," Kara said and acknowledged her sister. She hugged her sister in return and rubbed her back.

Rachel smiled and said, "I'm glad you're better. In time for your birthday! I got you something and I think you're going to love it!"

Kara smiled back. Her sister's innocence refreshed her. "I will," she assured. She kissed Rachel's forehead and squeezed her tighter. "I love you, Kiddo."

"I love you too, Big Sister," she said. She noticed Kara's bruises. "Wha," she started, but stopped.

They released their embrace. Rachel grabbed a coffee mug and poured a cup. Her brain turned and she put the pieces together. Kara was in the hospital and she looked beat up. Why had her parents said Kara was sick?

Kara followed her sister, with her eyes. She had no words though words were warranted.

Awkward, Kara went up the stairs went into the bathroom, across the hall from her bedroom. She stopped in front of the mirror.

The bruises turned into a yellow patch on her cheek. The lacerations scabbed... Her left eye was bloodshot in the outside corner. She examined her face. She pushed on the bruises and grimaced at the soreness.

Kara placed her hands on the counter and sighed. She was not pleased. She touched the scabs from the lacerations on her neck, but they were tender to the touch.

Kara stripped her clothes. It was the first time she took the hoodie off since she put it on at the hospital. She slid her pants off and she examined herself further.

She picked off the black lint left from the sweatshirt, which speckled across her torso.

She ran her fingers in the tracks of her rib cage where the bruises were black and surrounded by a green halo. Above her right breast, her skin reddened, like a hickey.

Embarrassed, she pushed the shower curtain aside, and turned the water on to an acceptable temperature. She stepped in and closed her eyes. She soaked in the warmth.

Flashes of the rape played every time her eyes closed. Afraid, she opened her eyes. She turned and let the water bounce off of her shoulders. The water pattered off the knots, which had grown on her shoulders.

Kara soaked well, took her shampoo, squirted it into her hair, and lathered it. She pulled out any snarls she could and let the shampoo soak awhile. She had deemed her hair had soaked enough. She rinsed and repeated the same process with her conditioner. She grabbed a tube of exfoliating face wash and rubbed it in despite the sting of bruises. She rinsed and felt the smoothness of her face.

She grabbed her loofah and squirted body wash onto it. Kara covered the top of the loofah with body wash like broccoli dipped in ranch dressing. It bubbled and she covered her body from her neck to her toes so no portion lacked any froth. Panicked, she ran the loofah over her body and focused of the area most defiled.

"Come off," she said. She scrubbed harder over the cut in her abdomen. She scrubbed and dropped the loofah onto the floor.

She reached for the showerhead and took it down. She removed any kinks in the hose. She rinsed her body and repeated, again, from her face to her toes.

"Get out!" she shouted. She flooded between her legs. Frustrated, she dropped the showerhead to the floor.

A soft knock came to the bathroom door and Rachel said, "You alright in there?"

"I'm fine," Kara shouted. She stared at the water which the drain. She repeated to herself, "I'm fine."

Kara stretched and grasped the bottle of body wash. She fell to her knees and put the bottle on the floor. She scooted her feet out and lay on her back. She kicked her feet in the air as if she did the bicycle. She grabbed for the bottle of soap subsequent and scissored her legs apart.

Kara popped the top on the bottle and tipped it upside. She squeezed. The soap burned and she yelped. She grabbed the showerhead, and rinsed herself. She grunted and whined. The warm water relieved the inflammation with a direct spray at the point of soapy application.

Kara rose. She picked the soap and loofah off of the floor and put them back on the shower caddy. She put the showerhead back and turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and opened the door under the sink. She pulled out a plush bath towel. She dried her hair and her body to her knees. She lifted the lid on the toilet. She sat and peed.

"Ah!" she hollered, and after a few dribbles, she stopped peeing.

"Why does it burn?" she muttered to herself. "I should not have done that."

She grabbed the towel rod with one hand and placed the other on the countertop. She braced herself and pushed.

"Ouch!" she said but she pushed until she was finished. She wiped, but the tingling lingered, and then faded.

"That was dumb," she said. She flushed and washed her hands.

Kara opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a comb. She combed her hair with a real comb for the first time since Saturday.

She worked hard and removed all of her tangles. Some parts of her hair took a little longer, but she got them all out. Her hair lay flat and straight, to the middle of her back.

She grabbed her round hairbrush and her hair drier next. She plugged the hair drier and curled locks of hair in the brush. She held each lock in a curl until she had deemed it would maintain the curl. She did this until each lock was curled. She turned off the hair dryer and laid it on the countertop with the brush.

She reached for her powder foundation and opened the lid. She applied it over her cheek where the bruise was. She applied ultra light concealer. After the concealer, she brushed on an apricot blusher on her cheekbones. She applied a shimmery lip gloss and smokey-eye shadow from the same family as the blush.

Kara felt beautiful externally. She stared at herself and basked in her beauty. It was in vain because the abyss within her grew. The abyss swallowed her beauty and left nothing to love.

"You look pathetic," she said, eyeball to eyeball in the mirror. "Pathetic."

Kara whipped around and pulled her bathrobe from the back of the bathroom door. She cloaked herself in it and flared her hair. She gathered her dirty clothes and crossed the hall into her bedroom.

Rachel sat on the edge of the bed and awaited Kara's arrival.

"Mom and I went to Eckerd's to get your prescription filled. I brought it with me and I made you a chunky peanut butter sandwich to eat with it."

Kara dropped her clothes grabbed the prescription bottle. "It has not been Eckerd's since you were like seven," she said. She glanced down the label and read.

"I know but that's what grandma calls it. So do I."

Kara ignored her sister and marched into the hallway. She screamed, "Mom!"

"What?" her mom said from the kitchen.

"What is az-ith-ro-my-cin?" she shouted.

"It's a precautionary thing the hospital prescribed."

"It says I take all six."

"Do what it says."

Kara spun. She popped the pills out of the package.

"Here, have this. Let me get it," Rachel said. She handed Kara a peanut butter sandwich. They switched items.

"For what?"

"You have to take your pills with food."

"I ate already."

"What it says," Rachel said. She shrugged her shoulders.

Kara took a bite out of the folded slice peanut butter sandwich. Her tongue smacked and she swallowed the first bite. By the time she got to her second bite, Rachel had the six pills in her hand.

"Milk's on your dresser," Rachel pointed.

Kara got the cup, sipped, and washed down the second bite. She hiccupped and Rachel giggled.

"Here," Rachel said. She dropped the pills into Kara's palm.

Kara tilted her head back and threw in all six pills. She downed the rest of the milk and said, "Ick."

Kara handed the glass to her sister and picked her clothes back. She put them into a clothesbasket in the corner of her room, near the log dresser.

"Hey, this fell out," Rachel said. She grabbed a piece of cardboard from the floor. "It's the cover of a Trident box."

"Let me see that," Kara said. She took it. Sure enough, it was the flap to a pack of Trident gum. Kara flipped it and it had 678-655-5001 written in pencil and Alex's name inscribed and underscored three times.

Kara stuffed it into her pocket.

"What is it?" Rachel asked.

"Nothing."

"You put nothing into your pocket when the trashcan is right there?"

"Shut up, smarty. I'm going to call Melanie, so can you give me a minute?"

"Okay," Rachel said. She stood and left the room. She stopped in the doorway and turned.

"What's wrong with you?" Rachel asked. She lowered her left eyebrow.

Stunned, Kara stood silent. She looked away and stared at the floor.

"I'm old enough to know if you are dying. I have the right to know."

"No, I'm not dying," Kara snapped. "Look, Peanut, it's not that easy," Kara said. She gulped. "Sit down."

"Do not, Peanut, me. I can take it standing up."

Kara looked at Rachel. They made eye contact.

Rachel's straight brown hair flowered around her ash gray graphic tee shirt. She had set the empty cup on Kara's desk and tucked her hands into her jeans pockets. She rocked to her tiptoes and a frown had crept to her face.

"Is it cancer?" Rachel said.

"No," Kara turned away.

"You're killing me," Rachel said.

Kara turned and looked into Rachel's eyes.

"I was raped on Saturday," Kara said. She did not break her gaze.

Rachel eyes lost focus. Her heart sank. Emotionless. Motionless.

Her countenance fell and she swallowed hard enough Kara saw it.

The silence was awkward, so Kara said, "It's when a person..."

"I'm thirteen, not stupid. I know what it means," she snapped through clenched teeth and did not move her body.

Rachel's stare turned to rime.

Kara frowned.

Neither girl flinched.

"Does it hurt?" Rachel asked.

"Does what hurt?" Kat said from the hall and then stepped into the room.

"Sometimes," Kara said. "Most of the time it hurts. My heart hurts more than my body."

Rachel's clenched mouth relaxed and dropped and she cried. Kat put her hand on Rachel's shoulder, but Rachel, had none and shook her shoulder free.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"I did not know how to tell you. I did not know if Kara..."

Rachel glared at her mom and then she folded her arms. Then, she moved her sight back to her sister and her heart ached. She ran across the room and threw her arms around Kara.

Rachel wailed at the top her lungs. The more she cried, the harder she held onto her sister. The harder she held the tighter Kara's hold became.

Kara thought she could cry no more but a swell of tears surged in her eyes. The levies broke like a dam after a heavy rain and a springtime thaw. Rachel's hair became a kerchief and caught Kara's tears and Kara's chest the same for Rachel's tears.

Kat stood across the room with her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. She turned her back.

Rachel let go of Kara and took a step back. She wrinkled her face some more. She half turned and stood a moment and said, "Why did not you tell me, Momma?"

Kat made a noise similar to a hiccup.

"Why!" Rachel screamed at the top her lungs and stomped her right foot.

"Oh," Kat said startled.

"Why!" Rachel carried on.

"I-I do not know," Kat said.

"I'm part of this family, too," Rachel insisted.

"I-I know you are, Sweetheart," Kat said and she turned back.

"Why does not it feel like it?" Rachel said. She turned back to Kara and bellowed. "And do not 'Sweetheart' me."

Kat walked to her girls and wrapped her arms around both of them.

Rachel resisted her mother's embrace, and she gave in.

The three Foster women huddled and shared tears. The cries overcame them and they lowered to the floor. In a cluster, they cried and held each other.

From the middle of the huddle, Rachel cried out, "Why God? Why does this happen to us? Do not you love us?"

Chapter Fifteen

The Acolyte woke in a cold sweat. He dreamed Kara came for him. He could not remember too much and before she had gotten to him, he was awake.

His mind churned with violence. The unachieved high lingered. He played through the night. He altered the end to what it should have been, but it was not the same.

He needed it. He desired it. He needed it soon.

Krista Plum's face flashed in his mind. He could not shake the image, after he left his room and was away from the picture. It had already happened. It was already done in his mind. He started down the road. He had to act on it.

He knew where she was. Tonight was the night. He'd take the train downtown and walk to the stadium. Nobody would miss her. Nobody would know she was gone for a long time.

Time for her redemption. She was different from the rest. She had not talked to him. She played basketball, so she was the same. She needed redemption more because she was a prostitute, he determined. His mind was stuck and it would not go away until he had her love.

* * *

After Kara christened her room with tears, Kat left. Rachel sat in Kara's desk chair and faced the dresser. She rocked back and rested; she rocked forward. Kara dressed in her own clothes.

She pulled on a black pair of Adidas swooshie Tear Away pants over green boy shorts. She put on a sports bra and the baggiest sweatshirt in her wardrobe.

She was dressed and grabbed her landline phone. "Shoot, I do not remember Melanie's number. I call her from my smart phone. Oh," she said, "770-498-3495."

"Mrs. Simpson, this is Kara Foster, may I speak with Melanie, please?" she said poured on the southern charm.

"Yeah, I was at Grady, but it was not anything life threatening. It's embarrassing... Okay, I'll wait."

"Hey Mel, do you have time for a little girl talk? I need it... okay I'll see ya in a little bit. I'm up in my room. K, bye."

"I guess it means I have to leave," Rachel reasoned.

"You do not have to," Kara said.

Rachel leaned back in the chair and smiled. Kara plugged her iPod to its dock and pushed play.

Kara and Rachel talked small talk. Kara grabbed her laundry basket and left the room. She came back with a can of Dr. Pepper.

"Oh, yeah, you're doing better," Rachel said.

"It's all I had at the hospital," Kara chuckled.

"Really? They let you drink as much as you wanted? Lucky!"

"I do not know if that's what it's always like. It worked out that way. I thought I was going to get out earlier than I did, so I skipped breakfast. They gave me this Finnegan stuff for my nausea. It knocked me out the rest of the day. I did not eat until breakfast this morning and it was the first I ate since Saturday night."

"Wow," Rachel said.

Kara lay on her bed and moved her body towards Rachel. "I forget it, you know. Think about anything else. Anything to forget the pain... If I could forget it..."

"Forget what?" Melanie asked. She walked around into Kara's room and her short blond ponytail bounced behind her.

Kara scrambled and bounced to her feet. She bounded to Melanie with her arms out. Melanie received her likewise, just like they reenacted the end of the parable of the Prodigal Son.

"Here, let me close the door," Kara said. Kara sat on the end of the bed and patted the spot next to her. Melanie sat next to her.

"So, what's this? You went to the hospital and did not call me?"

"I did not have my smart phone and it was so hectic I could not think straight," Kara explained. "Besides you got a haircut and did not tell me," she said. She fluffed Melanie's blonde hair, which rested, atop her shoulders. "How cute are we?"

"Yeah, so tell me what happened? You've been healthy as a horse ever since I've known you."

"Well," Kara said. She took a deep breath.

Melanie shot a look at Kara and locked eyes with her.

Kara took a deep breath.

"Well?" Melanie said.

"I'm too scared to say anything," Kara said.

"Tell her," Rachel encouraged.

"Tell me what?" Melanie said.

Rachel looked at Kara, and Kara avoided eye contact with her, but she could feel Rachel's eyes.

Kara inhaled, "I was attacked."

"Like you were robbed or something?"

"No, I was raped, Melanie," she said. She turned away.

"Wait. What?" Melanie said. She shook her head and her eyes widened.

Kara nodded. She grabbed Melanie's forearm with both hands.

A long silence followed by, "I'm so sorry." Melanie reached her arms and hugged Kara.

"Are you okay? I mean... no... of course not. Do you know who it was? I'll bust him in the nose."

"I've never felt worse."

"Did you tell the police?"

"Did not have a choice."

"They do not have any ideas at all?"

"She said it was some kind of serial rapist, killer guy. I'm the sole survivor."

"Wait a minute. You are the girl from the news? That was you at Grady?"

Kara nodded.

"Wow," Melanie said. She scratched her head and pondered.

"What? It was on the news?" Rachel said.

Kara nodded again.

"How do they know it's a serial rapist?" Rachel puzzled.

"He cut the same thing into my stomach he did to the others," Kara said.

"Oh yeah, they said that on the news," Melanie remembered.

"How come I did not see it when you changed?" Rachel asked.

"I dunno. Here, look at it," Kara said. She lifted her sweatshirt and revealed the marks.

"Oh, wow," Rachel and Melanie said in chorus. They both gawked at the markings.

"I'm sorry I'm asking so many questions," Melanie said, "if it conjures too many bad memories, tell me."

"No," Kara said. She sighed, "It's okay. As long as I get it out and talk, it keeps my mind off it. It's like I'm me but when I talk, it's not a story about me. I almost feel guilty like I'm gossiping or something."

She paused awhile and added, "It's when I'm alone it gets to me. When I'm asleep or awake it sinks in. I've had enough for a while. Man, I feel like I've been run over by a truck."

The three sat in silence and then Melanie asked, "Did they say who the other girls are?"

"Yeah," Kara said. She lowered lip and it trembled. Her breath became heavy.

Rachel leaned forward towards Kara but did not leave her chair. Melanie raised her eyebrows and erected her posture.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Kara asked.

"If you're ready to tell me," Melanie said.

"It's going to shock you," Kara said. "They're girls we know."

"Who?" Rachel and Melanie said together. They both fixed their eyes on Kara's lips. Maybe they'd steal the answer before it came.

"Grace-Leigh from Wesleyan," Kara said.

"No, way," Melanie said. "Grace-Leigh..."

Kara nodded, sniffled, and wiped her eyes, "She was the first."

"Should I be worried?"

"Not any more cautious than you should be."

Melanie bit her lip and said, "Who else?"

"Tammy Stevens from Blessed Trinity was the second one."

Melanie shook her head.

"Do you remember Kaliyah Thompson, the junior from North Carolina who we followed online, last year? She was in the other bracket at the New Years Shout Out from last year."

"Yeah," Melanie answered. "She was good."

"She was the third one. She visited a friend in Decatur. I do not think it was because who she is but I think it's because of whoever her friend is and she became the target."

"Dang, it is a lot of people," Melanie exclaimed.

"There's one more you should know," Kara said.

Melanie sat in silent anticipation. Her skin went pale.

"MacKinzie Coole was the one before me," Kara said. Her voice tailed off.

Melanie's jaw dropped like ten pins for the next bowling frame. One tear filled her eye and trickled. She whispered, "I cannot believe they're all... gone."

"Wait a minute," Rachel said, "what do you mean gone?"

"They're dead, Rachel," Kara said. She grabbed Rachel's arm.

Rachel pulled back. Her skin became pale and she said, "What does this have to do with you? I do not get it."

"He tried to kill me too," Kara said, her voice warbled.

Rachel scrunched her nose and shook her head. "Why did not you tell me this before? Why does everyone treat me like a baby?"

"I have not thought about it," Kara cried.

Each girl looked a different way. Each contemplated what this all meant.

Rachel swung her right leg back and forth, and held the back of the chair with her opposite arm.

Melanie was speechless for the first time since she came to the Foster residence.

Kara took a deep breath. Words escaped her a couple times, but she backed to contemplation.

Kara broke the silence. "What blows my mind is I did not just share the same attacker with these other girls and almost shared the same fate, but the same guy raped me.

"I mean, the Bible says the two become one flesh. I became flesh with this guy who also became flesh with Kinzie and Kaliyah and Tammy and Grace-Leigh. I share a unique bond with each of these girls, no matter how twisted, will be forever sacred to me.

"This bastard stole my innocence. He took it from these other girls too, but I share my flesh with them and they are dead, I'm alive and I'm gonna live my life for all of them."

The door knocked.

"Come in?" Kara said.

The door opened and Kat came into the room. She looked a Kara and said, "I got off the phone with Mr. Harsh. He said you do not have to come to school this week and we can reevaluate how you're doing on Tuesday."

"You told Mr. Harsh?" Kara said, concerned.

"No, I said there was a major family crisis and it hit you hard. He said he understood and said he would be praying."

"Did you call Mrs. Overman?" Rachel asked.

"Why would I do that?" Kat asked back.

"I'm part of the family too and this crisis affects me."

"Let's wait until Wednesday morning to see how you feel. I do not think you want to miss your first day of junior high. I'm fixing to make lunch soon if you girls get hungry."

"Okay, Momma," Kara said. Her mom left and closed the door.

"Wait a minute," Melanie said. She placed the pieces together but a few parts were lost. "Who was the guy who saved you? Do you know?"

Kara rolled her eyes. "I wish he had not saved me sometimes. It makes things difficult and I feel like I owe him."

"Do you know anything about him?" Melanie asked.

"Not too much."

"What do you know?"

"I know as much as you do if you watched the news. His name is Alex and he's in the Air Force. I do not know any more than that.

"He came to the hospital and I guess he found the detective. He waited there until they found me and he came to see how I was doing. He gave me a black Air Force hoodie 'cause he said he knew I would not like wearing a hospital gown. That's it. It's the one thing I know. He came in and was gone like a phantom."

"You do not know why he was there?" Melanie asked.

"No, I barely talked to him. He did not say much of anything to me either."

"Do not you wonder anything about him?" Rachel chimed in.

"A little... but I have not had time to think. It's awkward, at the very least."

"Yeah, it would be," Melanie said.

"It's weird. This whole thing... everything from the entire weekend... none of it has set in yet. I mean, I've cried and I've hurt, but it's so surreal still," Kara said.

"I always knew evil was out there, but somehow I felt like I was immune to it. It was something that happened to other people or in the movies. It's happened to me. It happened to me. It's happened to people whom I know. Some closer than others, but I know them."

"I cannot imagine," Melanie said.

"I cannot either," Kara said. She paused and sighed. "I blame myself for this. I must have done something wrong for God to allow this to happen to me. If He did not allow this to happen to me, then He's unconcerned and does not care what happened to me. If God had nothing to do with it, then the sole blame goes on me.

"He said I was not kind to my neighbor. He said I deserved it because I did not show mercy to my neighbor. He said it was me who could make it right."

"Who's he?" Rachel demanded.

"The guy who... attacked me," Kara said.

"What? That's preposterous!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Kara," Melanie said, "you know it's not true. You did not deserve this. Do you think Kinzie deserved it or Kaliyah or Tammy?"

"No!" Kara said. "That's different."

"Why is it different?" Melanie argued. "He was playing mind games with you. He was manipulating you and it worked. He likely said the same things to Kinzie. Based on what you're saying, because he said it, it must be true. But you're saying it's not true for the other girls, so it cannot be true."

"Well," Kara said. She looked at the carpet. "It makes sense, but there's nothing logical. It does not make sense why it happened and that's the best reason I have. I had to deserve it."

Kara continued, "I cannot apply logic to anything. My mind is split on Alex. I feel something in my heart... I mean... he saved my life. He's my hero. How's a girl supposed to think about her hero, especially, a girl in my shoes? He put his life in danger for this nothing girl who does not think all the way through anything."

Melanie interrupted Kara and said, "He did not know you from anybody else, yet he chose to risk it all. He did not care how you got there or whether you got yourself into the situation or not. It was worth it to him to save you and to degrade it degrades him."

Melanie continued. It was her turn on the soapbox. "It's a miracle he came. If he had not come, I do not know what I'd have done. It would have rocked my world in the least desirable way. It would affect our whole school. And you've been able to help the police. Anything that helps them may help stop this from happening to somebody else we know.

"I'm not saying you have to see this guy again or call him to say thanks. I'm saying be thankful for it."

"Yeah," Kara said. "But that's what I'm saying. Logic does not apply to any of this. None of this makes sense at all: the rape, the rescue, the religion. It all rests on the religion. If God cared, then the rape would not have happened and there would have been no need for me to be rescued."

"Whether evil exists or not does not answer the question of if God cares," Melanie said.

"What'd I ever do deserve this?" Kara cried. "If I do not deserve it, then it's impossible for God to care. If He did, why do bad things happen? Those who hurt the innocent and defenseless are not God's people and they do not' deserve God's compassion or mine," Kara said.

Melanie took a deep breath. "Think about this, Kara. Evil is evil, and God is God. Maybe, evil has nothing to do with whether God cares. It is what it is. It's evil."

Kara rolled her eyes and huffed.

Melanie justified herself. "Look, I'm not saying he does not deserve punishment or that I understand God's compassion because if this guy ever gets caught, I want to be the one who pushes the button at his execution."

"You do not understand," Kara said.

"I know. I'm hurting but I cannot hurt like you do. But your argument is not about me, it's about God. He understands us when we are not able to understand him."

"I can tell you took 'Peer Mentoring," Kara snapped.

"No, I was taught this in 'Questioning God'."

"Whatever. This does not make any sense to me," Kara said.

"Know this. God cares enough for the things we take for granted. He cares more than the things we take for granted. He cares."

"I get it, for the first time," Rachel said in awe. She did not move a muscle.

"Girls, lunch is ready," Kat called from the kitchen.

"Coming," Kara called back.

"Can I pray for you?" Melanie asked.

"Yeah, I need it," Kara said. She shook her head.

The three girls went downstairs for grilled cheese sandwiches on wheat bread and apple slices.

Nobody brought up rape, or evil, or Alex, or anything related, for the rest of the day.

Chapter Sixteen

"Sanchez, what do you have on the Acolyte?" the chief asked. He stepped into Sanchez's office.

Sanchez poked thumbtacks into corkboard. She rearranged a couple pictures, took a step back, and put her finger to her chin.

The chief stood and watched. He knew better than get Sanchez' when her mind worked. Especially if his time was limited.

"I cannot find a pattern. They're linked by one thing, but it does not give me a pattern," Sanchez said. She shook her head. She reached for a picture but did not grab it.

"What's the thing which connected them?"

"They all played basketball."

"?"

"No, against each other. Private schools. They live all over the city. One played in a tournament in a different state. Other than basketball, there's nothing."

"There's got to be something. Towel boys. Cheerleaders. Water boys. From any of the teams."

"Yeah, I'm looking into it."

"You planning on interviewing her again? Seeing if she's remembered anything?"

"Yeah. I want to wait awhile. Let some things settle down," Sanchez said.

"What about DNA testing? Has that come back yet?"

"No, they're backlogged pretty good. I do not think anything is going to come up. The scene was a mess. The rain. If we get a good sample, it'll connect him to the other crimes but he's never been booked on anything before.

"Crime scene is going through the van's carpet. They'll try and pull up anything. The guy was good. If they find anything, if he's connected through the high schools with these girls, he's probably not on any kind of record."

"How can you be sure?" the chief asked.

"Vu has been hitting up the schools all day. The schools he's been to so far gave him names of students with criminal backgrounds and none of them fit the description or have any involvement with boys' basketball or girls' basketball.

"Either this guy had no real connection to the schools or he has no connection to the reported crimes. This case is as cold as it was before Friday."

"Something will turn up. It always does," the chief encouraged.

Chapter Seventeen

"Thanks for coming, Mel," Kara said. She wrapped her arms around Melanie.

"Call me for anything," Melanie said. She squeezed back. "Day or night."

"It's gonna be a rough one," Kara said. She loosened her embrace. "I'm scared to let it set in, but I know it will. Knowing me, I'm not going to want to talk, but I'm gonna need it. If you do not hear from me, call me."

"Trust me, I know," Melanie rolled her eyes and laughed. She leaned and reestablished her hug. "I love you, Kara. I'm sorry you have to go through this," she said and her eyes misted.

"I love you too, Mel. I'll see you later." They released their embrace and parted.

"Maybe tomorrow?"

"K, call me."

"K. Hey, I want you to get into the deep beautiful melancholy of everything that's happened," Melanie said.

"Hah, 'Elizabethtown' I'll have to watch that tonight... somebody more miserable than me," Kara trailed off.

"That's subjective. I'll see ya."

Kara waved her fingers.

She stood on the porch and watched Melanie walk towards her car. Kara breathed deep. The inevitable came. Her friend left her to her own demise: to think, to reminisce and to soak in all that had happened.

Arms folded, Kara watched Melanie back down the driveway, circled the cal de sac, and disappeared into the distance.

The sun beat on Kara's arms and a warm southwest wind blew her hair. The aroma of a Cherokee Rose filled Kara's nostrils.

In that moment, desolation hit. The person she could talk to was gone.

Kara twitched her left bare foot on the concrete of the front porch, like one who put out a cigarette. She twisted her hips, turned, and headed to the house. She hesitated, but she basked in the sunlight and wind.

Kara took a couple steps forward and stopped. She walked again to the swing on the end of the porch. She took a seat and faced the front door. With the wind and sun at her back, she kicked her legs and swung the bench. She stared at the welcome mat on the doorway. If she walked to the mat and entered the door, she'd go to her room and be by herself. She did not dare move in that direction in fear of the domino effect, which would ensue.

Carefree, she swung as if Saturday never happened. She swung harder and the chains squeaked from the tension. Her feet stung from the concrete. Nevertheless, loneliness found her anyway. She fought it, but like barbwire, it cut through her flesh and her soul cried out a silent scream.

To make matters worse, she spotted the family Taurus pealed down the street and up the driveway. Kara turned her gaze and watched her father shuffle inside the vehicle as he gathered his things.

John popped out of the car, briefcase in his hand and blazer draped over his shoulder. His top button was already unbuttoned and his tie was loose. It hung low and to the left. He closed the door with his backside and proceeded up the driveway, to the sidewalk and to the door. He never once looked towards Kara but he reached for the handle of the storm door.

"You cannot catch it you know," Kara yelled across the porch.

He paused but never looked at her. He said, "What?"

"Rape is not contagious."

John did not move. He did not speak. He opened both doors and took a step inside.

"You cannot ignore this forever!" Kara shrieked, but John disappeared into the house.

Kara threw her feet onto the concrete and halted the swing. Her nostrils flared and she bounced to her feet. She bent and snapped a Cherokee Rose from the bush.

She stormed across the porch into the house, retreated to her room, and slammed the door.

Kara paced the floor in her room. She threw her hands in the air, the petals of the flower held their own.

"I wish this would have never happened," she reasoned to nobody. "My whole life crumbled and nobody cares. First, I lose abstinence and I'm not sure if it's my fault. Then, I lose my father who acts like I do not exist."

She seethed with anger and her words darted.

"You do not care! You never did!" she proclaimed.

In her anger, she leapt onto her bed, face in the pillow and she screamed and cried.

She could not stand it anymore. She hopped from the bed and threw things against the wall. A paperweight left a dent. A book. A pair of stilettos. A picture of her with her dad at a father-daughter dinner, which their church put on.

Next, she dumped her dresser drawers onto the floor. Her desk drawer, upturned. She emptied her closet onto the floor, stripped her bed and screamed the whole way.

Kara dumped her wastebasket. She spread the wadded tissue, loose-leaf paper and a plastic wrapper. She overturned her trash and found the piece of cardboard from the gum pack.

Kara flipped it over and scrambled to her phone. She flopped on her bed and she dialed the ten digits written above Alex's name. The first sound of the ring and Kara hung up and rolled onto her back.

"What am I doing?" Kara asked the ceiling. "This is stupid."

The phone vibrated in her hand, and rang aloud. Surprised, she fumbled her phone. Her eyes widened. Before it finished the first ring, she pushed the green button and answered.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hi, somebody called me from this number and it rang once," a male voice said.

"Hello, Foster residence?" Rachel said after a click.

"I've got it, Rachel."

"Oh, sorry," Rachel said.

"Who is this?" the male voice asked.

"Is this Alex?" Kara asked.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Hi," she said, "this is a little weird, but this is Kara," she said, her voice crackled.

"From the mall?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, weird huh?"

"Yeah. How did you get my number?" Alex inquired.

"It was written on a piece of cardboard from a pack of gum, in the pocket of the hoodie you left."

Alex laughed and said, "That's funny. That was my buddy's shirt. He's from Moody Air Force Base by Valdosta. He came up and visited. He does not have a cell phone."

"Oh, does he want it back?"

"No, you can keep my number. I've got his anyway."

Kara giggled and clarified, "No, the sweatshirt." She bit her lip. Her foot wagged like a puppy tail.

"Oh, right," he recovered. "He's back there anyway so he would not get it for awhile.

"How are you doing by the way?"

"I do not know. I'm alright. Hey, what are you doing tonight?" Kara asked.

"I was going to sit tonight and watch a CSI Miami marathon on AMC. I had nothing else planned. Why? What's up?"

"Oh, I do not want to take you away from your TV show," Kara said.

"You're planning to take me away?" he questioned.

"Well..."

"I've seen them all, already anyway. I'm more of a New York guy. Gary Sinise is a better lead actor," he explained.

"Yeah," she said uninterested. "I'm getting claustrophobic. My parents are being weird. My dad is ignoring me. My mom thinks it's normal. Cannot you come get me? I'll go stir crazy if I do not get out of here," Kara pled.

"Are you sure?"

"I told you it was weird."

"No it's fine. Unexpected. Where do you live?"

"I'm on the south east side of Stone Mountain... the mountain itself."

"Can you give me an address? I'll punch it into my GPS."

"650 Rock Shadow Court, Stone Mountain. We are at the end of the cal de sac."

"Garmin says that you are fifty minutes from here so I will be there in forty minutes. What do you want to do?"

"I do not know. We can go for pizza or something. It really does not matter; I want to get out of here."

"Okay, I'll see you in a little bit. Can I call you back at this number?"

"Yup, I'll see you in a little while," Kara said.

"Okay, see ya."

"Bye."

Kara pushed the green button again.

Panic. She jumped and went through the clothes on her floor, and searched for attire that matched.

"It's all mixed up," she said.

She turned her bottom drawer upright, and found a pair of "fit and flare" blue jeans. Once she changed, and put those on, she flipped the next drawer, pulled out a yellow fitted t-shirt, and put it on.

She ran out of her room, descended the stairs, and pulled her sweatshirt out of the drier. She came back to her room and pulled the sweatshirt on, like she came in from the cold.

The sky was still light but the mountain had already cast its shadow southeast. After she had gotten ready and Kara waited on her bed. She looked out of her window down the street. She held her breath because two cars came down the street. They each pulled into adjacent driveways.

"What am I doing?" she asked every couple of seconds.

A truck rolled its way up the street towards the cal de sac. It stopped once it reached the circle. It turned its wheels. The truck cranked its wheels, like it was turning around. It stopped parallel to her house, turned to the right and pulled into the end of the driveway.

"Breathe," she reminded herself. Where did happiness came from?

Alex had not gotten out of his truck and Kara coasted down the stairs. She stopped by the front door and slid on her black with pink trim, Reebok Easy Tone, shoes.

She held the second shoe and the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Kat said. She came from the kitchen and Kara stood by the door already.

"I'm going out mom," Kara said.

"Now? I was making dinner."

"Sorry, Mom, I have to get out," Kara pled.

"Okay," Kat said. "Do not stay out too late. You need rest."

"I won't be out too late," Kara promised. She flung the door open and alarmed Alex who had one foot on the porch step and one on the ground.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," Kara exchanged.

"Who is this?" Kat asked, hands on her hips.

"Oh, Mom, you remember Alex from the other night? The hospital."

"Yeah," Kat said. She wrinkled her brow.

"How are you doing, Ma'am?" Alex asked.

"I'm doing fine," she said, perplexed.

"I'll see you soon. Mom," Kara said. She raised eyebrows with impatience. She did not break her glare with Kat. She grabbed her purse off the bench and stepped towards the door.

"Ok, not too late," Kat warned.

"Yes, Mom, I know," Kara said. She rocked to a stop on her tiptoes.

Kara went through the door, and closed it. She walked towards Alex's truck and left Alex one pace in arrears. They approached his truck and Alex stepped in front of Kara and opened the door.

"You do not have to do that," Kara said. She wrinkled her nose and cracked a smile.

"Where do you want to go?" he replied.

Alex held his hand out and Kara put her hand in his. He spun with her and stayed beside her. He held her hand and helped her step into his truck. Once she was in the truck, and settled with her purse, Alex closed her door.

He circled his vehicle and hopped in the driver seat. He turned his truck on. It had a throaty rumble. He put on his seatbelt and asked, "So are we going for pizza? 'Cause since you mentioned it; it's the only thing on my mind."

"Yeah, go back out the way you came in to Rockbridge Road and make a left."

"Yes, Ma'am," he cooperated and backed the truck up, turned it around and headed back out the way he came in.

"What did you mean ignoring me?" Kara pressed.

"What do you mean?"

"You do not have to open doors and stuff. I do not need your shenanigans."

"Shenanigans?" he laughed. "I'm not a passive person. I take action."

"That's got to get you in trouble," Kara said.

"Not if I do not have anything to gain from it. Besides, I'm an MP. I stand all day and wait to open doors for all the captains and captains' horses."

"Oh," Kara said, not sure whether she should laugh or not.

"After all, my momma raised me right. I'm a good old fashion Southern boy with good old fashioned chivalry. Most girls do not know how to react to it and that is why I ignore comments like yours. You're going to have to get used to me."

"What if I ignore you? Turn left here at the light. Deshon Road."

"That's impossible to do, you see," he said with a straight face.

"No, I do not see. Why do not you tell me?" Kara challenged.

"First of all, you already called me which shows you cannot ignore me. And, once you experience fine Southern gentlemanry, it's hard to ignore."

"Gentlemanry?"

"Yes, gentlemanry."

"That is not a word."

"It's not a word for those who have never experienced it. But, it's a real word."

"Whatever," Kara said. She rolled her eyes and placed her hand on her forehead. She looked out the passenger window.

Alex looked at her and laughed.

"What?" Kara said but she never looked at him.

"It's not a word. I made it up."

Kara smiled and covered her mouth. She hid any evidence of laughter.

"It is a mentality and you won't be able to ignore it."

"Whatever," Kara said, "But turn left again at this light."

Alex slowed the truck and made the left. "Hey, hey?" he shouted.

"What's wrong?" Kara asked.

"Where are you taking me? That sign said Rockbridge Road. Are you taking me in circles?"

"Hah! No, it's confusing. I do not get it either. It's a jackknifed road. We cut the jack out."

"Somebody was drinking Jack when they made the streets in this city... 5000 Peach Streets and Peachtree Streets. It's a wonder this thing works," he said. He pointed at his GPS.

"I thought you took me through a time-space continuum. I did not know what was going on."

"Nope! Welcome to Atlanta!" Kara said.

"Jack and hammer and vogues'," Alex said.

"What?"

"Oh. Nothing, it's from an old song."

"Oh."

After that, neither spoke much. They sat a traffic light and Alex scanned the radio and stopped on 91.5.

"We close, Miss Kara?" he asked.

"Yeah, turn right," Kara said.

"Stone Mountain Pizza Café? Sounds good to me."

"It's the best pizza in town. It says it is New York style pizza, but I do not know. I've never been to New York before."

"I'll be the judge of that. I spent some time in the Northeast before I got stationed here."

Alex parked his truck and they hopped out. He walked to the front of the truck, and walked with Kara into the restaurant. He maintained his pace and still got to the door and opened it for her.

Kara looked at him and said, "Gentlemanry," and laughed. She walked through and Alex followed.

They were seated for a moment and they waited for waitress. They ordered one large cheese pizza.

"Do you have Bud Light on draft?" Alex asked.

"Yes," the waitress answered. "12 ounce or 20 ounce?"

"20 ounce."

"Can I see your ID?"

Alex pulled out his Air Force White Common Access Card.

"Okay," the waitress said. "Military." That was good enough. She did not look at the date of birth.

"I'll have a Dr. Pepper," Kara said.

"We have Mr. Pibb," the waitress said.

"Naw, I'll have sweet tea."

"I'll get those right out," the waitress said.

"Thanks," Alex said.

The waitress left and Kara asked, "Do not you think it's wrong to drink?"

"Not if I'm thirsty."

Kara looked away from Alex and said, "People I know do not drink alcohol. Are you a Christian?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything."

"Nothing. I do not know any Christians who drink alcohol."

"There are all kinds of them. It's not like I'm getting drunk or anything."

"Is not having one drink getting you drunk?"

Alex snickered. "Hardly. I'd never have more than two in a sitting, but there are people who will drink more and never have a problem."

"Really? I always thought one drink made a person an alcoholic."

"You must be Baptist?"

"Yeah, but I thought it was what every Christian believed."

"I do not think alcohol is the defining doctrine which separates Christians from the rest of the world. We preach Christ crucified as the way to heaven is the defining doctrine."

"I agree."

"Well, okay."

The waitress brought out the Bud Light and sweet tea.

Kara smiled at Alex and sipped their drinks.

"I suppose. It'll take some getting used to."

"So why are you claustrophobic at home?" Alex asked.

"My best friend came, today. That was all right, but she left and I felt trapped.

"I'm trapped in my own thoughts. My parents are driving me nuts and I do not want to be in the same house."

"Yeah, that's understandable. Do not you think, at some point you're going to have to confront it. I mean, so you can begin the healing?"

"I do," she paused, looked around, and continued. "I'm not ready. I do not know when I'll be ready. But I'm going to fight it, for now."

"Is there more?"

"Melanie, my best friend, talks incessantly about the spiritual aspect. It's the whole, 'all things work together' mentality. I'm sure it will work out but it's not working out, yet. It's fresh and it hurts and it's not what I want to hear."

"What do you want to hear?"

Kara sipped on her sweet tea and rested her hand on her mouth and thought. "Nothing, to be honest with you. I do not want to hear anything except I love you and I'll be here and that you'll listen to me when I talk."

"Sounds fair to me. So Melanie? She does not love you?"

"It's not her. Not completely. My dad has not said more than two words to me since it happened. He muttered something that night at the hospital, but I did not hear what he said. He won't look at me or acknowledge I exist. I know he's ashamed and embarrassed to have me as his daughter."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"No, but what else could it be? I talk to him and say things to him and he won't look at me. I asked my mom and she would not have anything to do with it. Even if she would listen to me, I do not want to talk to her because I feel like she agrees with him."

"I'm not your dad and I cannot imagine what it is like. It cannot be easy. If he is not ashamed, it could be the lack of knowing what to say.

"I mean, how it would be like to be me. The one thing I knew about you before tonight was you were raped. That's it. I've been in many scary situations around the globe as a part of security forces, but I have never been scared like I was, when I came and picked you up.

"Apply that to your dad. He's known you his whole life. I bet he thought about your first date, and the day you would come home to tell him you're getting married. He's thought about many things concerning you. But, for each one of those he has no book or set of instructions to deal with. You throw this situation into it his visions. He's never thought it could happen. He's learning what to do to cope."

Kara lowered her eyebrows. "I thought you were understanding." She folded her arms and turned sideways in her seat.

"I am trying. Look, I'm not trying to take sides. I'm not justifying your dad's actions. You are his little girl, no matter what happens even if it had been a situation of consensual sex. However, as you learned this weekend, life is not perfect and the people in it are less so. Maybe he'll come around, I do not know. I cannot argue with you and say look at his perspective, because nobody has a better perspective on this than you do."

"Thank you," she said, landlocked. She refrained from eye contact.

"Can we talk about something else? Anything else?" Kara pled.

"Sure, how's this. Here comes the pizza."

"Here you go," the waitress said, "Is there anything else I can get you, right away? More sweet tea, miss?"

"Yes, please."

"Wow, this looks like the real deal."

"It's good. I hope you believe in prayer before a meal. Or, is that not necessary either?"

"Christ did it, so I remember. He took the bread," Alex said. He took a piece of pizza, "and gave thanks for the pizza and for the friendship and distributed it. Amen."

"Wait? We were praying?"

"Yes."

"I was not ready."

"God heard it."

"I do not know about this gentlemanry stuff."

"You do not like it? It comes with teasery."

"You are so full of words," she said. She folded her pizza and took a bite.

"I'm impressed for a non connoisseur of New York pizza. You sure know how to eat it properly."

"I did not say I was not cultured. Speaking of culture, do you like football?"

"I do."

"How do you think the Falcons are going to shape up this year?"

Alex leaned forward and whispered, "I'm a Saints fan."

"You would be!" Kara said. She smiled big. "That's not genltemanry; that's foolishness. How do you expect to chival a woman with old fashioned chivalry with a team like the Saints."

"Shhhhh," Alex said and burst into laughter. "Who's making up words? Chival?"

"Would not that be the verb form if there was one?"

"Chivalry is something you are not something you do. You cannot fake it."

"Uh huh. Are not you?"

"That's not the point. Drew Brees is a gentleman and a scholar."

"He is?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he is. He went to Purdue. That's a real college. I mean, he's from Texas, but you cannot hold that against him."

"I guess when I said to talk about anything, I meant, we can talk about a subject you might know something about," she said.

"Oh, okay! I see how it's go. Says the team who might have been good was when they had Michael Vick."

"Michael Vick? What they did to Michael Vick was horrible."

"Michael Vick? He broke the law."

"The NFL has a huge double standard. You can commit all kinds of crimes against people, that's okay, it's tolerated, but a poor doggy, and you get two years of prison and suspended on top. I'm not saying people should abuse animals, but it seems like they are putting the value of animals above us."

"Well said. I can't disagree with that. What about Placido Burress?"

"What about him?"

"He committed a crime against a human."

"Against himself. He shot himself, with a gun that he had a permit for in another state. That's not the reason he went to jail. He went to jail because he enforced his right to bear arms. His crime was against the system that's against the Constitution," she said on her soapbox.

"Other than the fact that you do not like a real football team, you seem like a reasonable person," he said. He wiped the olive oil off with his napkin.

"I seem reasonable? That's not gentlemanry at all," she scoffed.

"It's the whole imperfection thing. I'm plenty enough of that."

"Is that something you are or something you do?"

"I suppose you got me."

"Is not that a conflict of your nature?"

"Is not that the life of a Christian in this world?"

"Agreed," Kara said.

Kara popped the last bit of crust in her mouth. She swallowed and said, "Thanks for coming to get me. This is what the doctor ordered."

"No problem."

They finished their meal but had not gotten their bill. Kara reached for her purse and opened it. "I have a slight problem."

"What's that?"

"I grabbed my purse by the door, but I have not gotten my stuff back from the police yet. I do not have any money for dinner."

"Are you serious? G-E-N-T-L-E- manry. Hello?"

"I would say 'you do not have to' again, but you have to."

"I do not have to. You can do dishes."

"I can do dishes?"

"I said old fashion. I do not do dishes."

"Hey mister! I'd do anybody else's dishes, but you're a Saints fan."

"Whoa! Keep it down. Somebody might hear you," he laughed.

"I have a serious question to ask you if you'll let me," Alex said. His demeanor flat lined.

Kara laughed, "Wow. That's. Yeah sure."

"What are you going to do make sure this never happens again?"

"I won't call you anymore, if that's what you want," Kara smiled.

"No, I mean what happened over the weekend."

"I have not given it any thought."

"Are not you worried a little bit?"

"I do not have any idea."

"Well, it seems to me, with the other victims from the same guy, maybe you should protect yourself."

"You think it would happen again?"

"The other victims are dead, Kara. I am concerned if he had the opportunity he might finish what he started."

"I had not thought about it. That's scary."

"It so happens, I am friends with a woman who is also a part of security forces who teaches self defense for women. She does it for free, but people find out through word of mouth."

"I might consider it. Although, I can carry my Baby Glock my dad gave me," Kara said.

"Is there anything else I can get for ya'll," the waitress interrupted.

Alex looked at Kara, who smiled back at him. "I think we're good."

Kara looked at the waitress and said, "He told me he's chivalrous, but he missed the opportunity."

"If he is chivalrous, he's a keeper," the waitress laughed. "I did not think anybody used that word anymore, but it's like the politician who claims to be a Washington outsider. If you have to claim it yourself, you are probably not.

"What can I get you sweetheart?" the waitress asked. Her smile did not wane.

"I would like to try the tiramisu and a cup of black coffee," Kara said, with folded hands and a large grin.

"By all means, be my guest," Alex said.

Kara ate her tiramisu carefree. For the next hour, she and Alex talked, laughed, and teased.

"You've made my day," Kara said. "I do not think I've ever smiled so much in all my life. My cheeks are so sore."

"You poor baby," Alex chided. "You got your tiramisu and your pizza and you got out of the house and yet you complain."

"No, Alex, in all seriousness, thanks. It means so much to me you've come out of your way to help me out."

"It's not out of my way at all. I enjoyed tonight. I would have watched TV in the squadron and wished I were anywhere else doing anything else. This is better than anything else."

Kara blushed, "I think it's time to get going."

"I agree. Is it me or is it hot in here?"

"A little of both," Kara said.

Alex grabbed his wallet, flipped it open and grabbed a twenty and a ten, and set them on the table.

"Let's get out of here," Alex said and he stood.

Kara scooted her chair back and slid her feet to the floor. She moseyed towards the door and Alex walked one pace behind.

He opened the door, let her out of the restaurant, opened the door, and let her into his truck. One hand out, he assisted her into his truck. Once she settled in, he closed the door, ran to the other side, jumped in, and drove back to Kara's house.

Other than the music playing in the background and the hum of the engine, there was no sound. The voice of Alex' GPS pointed the way. Alex drove up Shadow Rock Court and into the driveway of the Foster residence.

Alex threw the truck into park and shut the engine off. They both got out of the truck and Alex walked Kara to the front door.

"It smells like it's gonna rain again," Alex said. He looked skyward.

"Smells like it?" Kara puzzled.

"Yeah. Right before a rip snorting thunderstorm, there's sweetness in the air. Plus, the wind is blowing westward, so it's sucking in a lot of moisture."

"What's that mean to me?" Kara asked. She flashed her teeth.

"It means it's go a strong one, for sure."

"Thanks for that bit of trivial information," Kara said. They reached the porch and Kara looked down at her feet. She turned and faced Alex and said, "Thanks again for tonight."

"You're welcome. Hey, if you ever need anything, let me know," he said.

Kara stepped on her tiptoes and kissed Alex on his jawbone. She whispered, "That's courtliness."

"That's a made up word."

"It is not," Kara smiled again. "Good night," she said. She turned and entered her house.

Alex headed back his truck; a long and awkward walk. His mind reeled on the kiss. Unexpected. Maybe she was just friendly. He had to look up courtliness.

Kara closed the door and watched Alex get in his truck and back out of the driveway. Before his turn in the cal de sac, Kara waved through the window of the door. Alex rapped his horn twice.

He completed his turn and sped off into the darkness. Kara spun headed upstairs to her room. She jumped onto her bed and sighed. She said to herself, "Stupid. Whatever."

Chapter Eighteen

### The Acolyte drove all day and waited for dusk. He sat in his room and it made him stir crazy. He stopped for gas twice. He went through the drive thru once for lunch.

### He could not get Krista off of his mind. Every time he blinked, her face appeared. Her smooth skin. Her little head. Her contagious smile.

### He spotted Krista early enough and tracked her until the right time would come. The best part, he thought, was he could give her money and take her to a motel and do his thing without the risk of getting caught.

### The situation would self perpetuate.

### He controlled his mind so he would not make any mistakes. His need for the high was great, but he was too scared he would get careless again. A costly mistake would be unlikely but he knew it was possible.

### He spotted her before the sun went down.

### She went into the downtown Atlanta I HOP.

### Her leather mini skirt swayed back and forth and put him into a trance. It was pleated over her thigh on the right side. On the left side, a buckle hugged her hip. He watched. Her red heels toward and she walked into the door. Her black leather shirt hardly covered her front and came to her rib cage, and laced up in the back. She looked like she had knocked off a lingerie boutique.

When she was inside, the trance wore off. The Acolyte waited. He settled it. He'd be her first client. The idea of sloppy seconds upset his stomach.

A half an hour later, she walked out and looked back and forth like she was meeting somebody. The Acolyte rolled into the parking lot and pulled next to Krista.

She felt the presence of the car and the engine rattled. One foot in front of the other, her head held high, she increased her pace.

He drove and rolled his window down. He called out, "Hey! Krista!"

A chill went down her spine. Krista never looked back and walked on.

"Krista," he called out again.

She stopped. "How do you know me?" she asked. She stood at attention and looked over her shoulder through his windshield...

"We went to high school together. I was a senior when you were a freshman. I do not think you'll remember me."

"No, but I believe you. It was good seeing you. I'm meeting some girlfriends of mine in a few minutes so I'll see you around," Krista said. She turned her head and walked again.

"Wait. I was hoping for a half and half," he said.

Krista stopped. She swallowed hard. She turned and walked to the car and leaned in the window. "Do not ever call me that name again," she said.

"Sorry," he said.

"Let's discuss details," she said.

He nodded his head. He diverted his eyes from her cleavage. She combed her jet black hair over her shoulders and it led all the attention away from her face to her body.

She pulled her hand across her chest and the urge for pietism well up within her. Her eyes darted and she looked for anything suspicious in his car and beyond his car in case, he was the bait. Something told her he was not, but something did not seem right to her.

The Acolyte gave her $500 in cash. She refused his offer until she had the cash.

"It has to be worth it for me," she said.

She counted twenty-five Andrew Jackson's and got in. He drove them west, past Douglasville, to a little rural motel off of a state route.

She went to the office and checked them into a room.

"An hour," she promised the clerk.

"I'll look," he said. He walked to the corner of the front desk, underneath the security camera. He slid the twenty into his pocket and waved to her.

The Acolyte's heart pounded. Krista opened the door and held it.

The door closed. She waited for nothing and she shed her clothes.

The excitement was too strong, because he undressed the girl himself. The fact that she took her clothes off herself was more than he could bear.

She had undressed and then unbuckled his belt. Her chipped French manicure grazed against his skin.

"Oh," he said. Her gentle touch made him ejaculate without arousal.

"I'll be back," he said stuttered; "I have to pee."

"Hurry back," she said. She fell onto the bed and rolled onto her back. "You've got me wet," she laid it on.

He did pee and he flushed the toilet. He ran the water for a while and cleaned himself. Then, he put latex gloves on.

He came back out of the bathroom with his hands in his pockets.

Krista giggled at him and said, "Silly boy! You still have your clothes on!"

"Yeah, weird, huh?" he said. He approached the bed. He pulled his hands from his pockets and revealed his gloves.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Oh, I have a germ phobia. It's nothing personal."

"I do not know," she said. "Maybe this is not."

"Oh, get over here. I paid you more than enough for this. It'll be fine."

"Okay," she said. She sounded playful again, but her voice faltered.

He reached into his pocket again. "Condom," he said.

She giggled.

"Give me foreplay," he said. "I'm a little nervous."

"I'm nervous too," she said.

She unzipped his pants.

He regained full power in seconds.

"Smells like nickels? Did you... already?" she asked. "Come on, man."

"Yeah. I'm not used to having a girl like you."

"Have you had any girls?"

"Bitch. Yes." He growled.

"Sorry," she said, back to work.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a steel fishing line.

The glimmer of the steel hit Krista's eye. Confused, she thrust her body back; her mouth popped.

Krista saw the line, scrambled backwards. She pushed but he was too strong. He grabbed her ankle and pulled. She slid on one butt cheek, her fingers burned. She gripped for anything.

Krista opened her mouth but the line closed her windpipe and she could not scream. She grabbed the wire and a tear fell. She could not get her nails between her skin and the wire.

Her eyes went bloodshot and her vision darkened. Blood squeezed from her neck and her fight waned. Her spirit left.

The Acolyte crossed his heart; his fingers ended on his chest away from his heart. He mumbled an invocation to the Trinity. "Goodnight, Krista," he said. He brushed her eyelids closed.

"Blessed Mary, Mother of God, and Saint Joseph, I implore you for Krista," he said.

He never thought he would be into necrophilia, but he was ready for another high. He couldn't get her out of his head unless he did.

The Acolyte touched her skin. Soft. Warm. He traced his fingers from her neck, past her ribcage's bumps, beyond her abdominal lines.

He reached his box cutter. Like a skilled craftsman, he carved the ichthus and the cross with precision.

Kara's face flashed in his mind. He shuttered and said Commercium Admirabile." Then, he looked and said, "By Thy hand we all are fed."

Chapter Nineteen

The computer monitor turned Kara's face blue. Her room was the same.

Alex had been gone for an hour and Kara kept busy.

Kara stared at the monitor. She dialogued with herself about her reality. She thought about all the different scenarios about her life from this point, forward. Each scenario brought an entire list of variables and each variable produced its own list of variables. Each variable took her further away from the present.

Kara checked her Yahoo! email account and her high school email. Neither account produced anything of import so Kara clicked her Facebook tab. She had twenty-five notifications since she had not checked her Facebook since sometime on Thursday.

It struck her funny. She read some of the different messages on her wall. Some of the messages were from Thursday and Friday. The fateful night hide in the future.

She smiled and remembered her life before. Innocent. The days since then, many people had posted comments on her wall, oblivious to what things have become.

For a brief moment, life seemed normal. The present moment was normal on Facebook. It was as it had been, before Friday night. An out. However, the reason for the out changed.

Thunder cracked overhead and snapped Kara into reality. Wind howled and did not relent. Kara clicked onto a tab on YouTube.

She clicked on her login name and scrolled to her favorite videos. She clicked on one titled "Bad Boys". She waited for it to load and she clicked for the full screen high definition monitor. She increased the volume and listened.

### The video started with the sound of the HBO Boxing Theme Song. The video zoomed in on a basketball. Kara and Kinzie Coole appeared. They stood back to back in a v shape, so the front shoulders touched. They posed like Oscar De La Hoya and Floyd Mayweather before a big fight. Kara and Kinzie did not keep their composure the camera turned and captured a self portrait of Melanie.

### The next thirty seconds were highlights from a basketball tournament. It included Kara, Kinzie, Melanie, Tammy Stevens, and Grace-Leigh Henderson key plays, Emma Smart and Ashlyn Tanner: each girl deserved their own high light reel.

### The middle of the highlights footage Kinzie took jump shots outside the paint. She took five shots with her left hand and five more with her right hand before each game. Kara approached Kinzie. Kara held the video camera and asked which hand Kinzie liked better for that particular game.

### Kinzie looked at her left forearm and her right forearm. She smiled and said, "Both them bad girls are nice," a Detroit Pistons Championship Season Highlight video bootlegged quote.

### Kara laughed in real time and on the video. She paused the video and stared at the freeze frame of Kinzie. Kara covered her mouth with her left hand. She stroked her mouth's sides.

### Kara reached out and touched Kinzie's face with her fingers' pads. A tear made a solo cameo appearance.

### With her right hand still on the mouse, she unpaused the video and clicked to an earlier part of the video. She watched the "interview" again and when Kinzie answered the question, Kara replayed.

### Kara sat in the same position with one hand on her mouth and one hand on the mouse and watched the same portion of the video, repeatedly.

### Tears came in droves but she replayed the same clip. She never watched beyond Kinzie's answer.

### Rain pattered against the house and thunder rolled. Wind gusts sprayed precipitation against the window, like a car wash.

### Kara watched the video. A soft knock came at the door. She looked at the door and she looked at the clock on her computer and watched the video some more.

### Another knock came, not soft like the first but still soft. Kara stared at the door through her saline eyes. She waited for her eyes. They adjusted to the darkness away from the computer.

"Come in?" Kara said. Her voice cracked.

### The door creaked open. An undefined image emerged in the doorway. Kara bit her bottom lip. She tried and determined who it was.

"Rachel?" Kara inquired.

"Hi," Rachel said. She shut the door. "I could hear you were awake in here so I wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm okay," Kara said. She wiped her tears into the sleeve.

"Whatcha watching?" Rachel pressed.

"The highlight video we made at the Holiday Invitational, last year," Kara said.

"Oh, wow," Rachel said. She side stepped behind Kara and watched the video.

"That's Kinzie Coole is not it?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah," Kara said and bowed her head.

### The video played on beyond Kinzie's answer. The rest of the five minutes was similar, with highlights and interviews.

### Rachel pulled her hood up and zipped her velour pajama top. She set her hands on Kara's shoulders and they watched, in silence.

"How did your date go with Alex?" Rachel broke the silence.

"It was not a date."

"Whatever you call it; how was it?"

"Miserable."

"What?"

"Very miserable."

"Like how?"

"It went well," Kara said.

"And that's the same as miserable?"

"Yes, I hated every minute," Kara said.

"We hit it off great. He made me laugh; he made me think; he took my mind off of Saturday night. It's like life was normal, except it was not normal at all. It could not be normal because if it were normal, he would not be there.

"As much as he took my mind off things, being who he is, would bring it up again. We had a great time. But that's all it can be is a great time."

"What do you mean?"

"If he was any other guy and I met him any other way, I probably would like him. I cannot bring myself to like any guy. I mean, after what happened to me on Saturday, I know the same thing happened to half the girls in this video. Or even whom I'm aware of. And dad's being a jerk.

"If I thought I'd like him, Alex is like every other guy. That's all guys are good for. They treat us like trash."

"That's rough," Rachel said.

"I feel safe around him. It's different from anything else. I know he'll protect me. I'll figure out who he is as a friend and figure everything else as it comes to me."

"I wish I had some words of wisdom."

"I need people to hear me out you know. But hey, I'm getting tired, Kiddo, so I'm going to go to bed," Kara said. She yanked on the drawstring to Rachel's hood.

"Can I make a bed on your floor?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

"I was trying to sleep, and I keep thinking about you. It makes me sad when I think you could have been dead," Rachel said and her bottom lip shook.

### Kara wrapped her arms around Rachel's head and whispered, "Do not say those things. I'm here."

### Kara held onto Rachel and kissed her head. She rocked both of them back and forth.

"I'm not dead so do not say that again," Kara said.

"I know but I keep thinking about it. It will comfort me to be by you. I do not want to leave you."

"Quick, go get your pillow and a blanket. My bed is big enough for both of us."

### Rachel scurried to her room, her feet pattered under her. Within seconds, she returned and bore two pillows and a blanket. She threw her pillows next to Kara's pillows.

### The girls lied on their backs and reminisced in the dark. They laughed, and they cried, and they laid in silence and held each other hands.

"I love you, Big Sister," Rachel said. She rolled and faced Kara. She nuzzled closer and laid her arm across Kara's rib cage.

### Kara pressed her eyelids and coached herself to breathe, in place of counting sheep. She remained awake; eyes wide open. She stared at the ceiling in her room. Her ceiling was friendlier than the hospital, she thought.

### Lightning flashed and lit the room. Thunder cracked and echoed off the bare backside of the granite mountain. Trees cracked and the crack resonated in the silence of the night. The lightning reflected off of the mountain and struck at random.

### Kara blinked but was otherwise motionless. Prescription free, she had nothing, which would aid her sleep tonight so she had no choice but to be alone with her thoughts. She pulled her arms up and tucked her hands by her chest, and she rolled away from Rachel and stared at the wall.

### Rachel rustled and settled in, snuggled with her blanket.

### Kara closed her eyes and she tossed, and turned.

### Time ticked on and Kara could not find a comfortable position. She fought her short term memory but she lost the fight. The fight intensified, but her memory's vividness won and forced her eyes opened in horror.

### Acid crept in her chest, to the back of the top of her throat, and she coughed. The acid reflux became unbearable so she sat. Please do not throw up. Please do not throw up.

### Kara went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Pepcid AC Maximum Strength Chewables. She took one tablet. She grabbed a bottle of water with her other hand and twisted the lid off and took a drink. She sighed. The pain of the acid reduced already. She cringed because slight headache crept in. She took two tension headache "Up and Up" acetaminophen, infused with caffeine.

### Kara went to her room. She rolled her desk chair to the windowsill and took a seat. She propped her face with her hands and stared out the window. She watched the rain patter against the window. The rain came in parallel to the ground.

### Tears rolled down Kara's cheek. She sniffled and replayed the rape over again in her mind. She yawned between cries. She pulled her pillow from her bed, rolled it in half, and rested her chin.

### Kara squirmed in her seat and she continued her cries.

### I'm so tired, she thought. I cannot take this anymore. I'm so afraid to close my eyes.

### Kara rested her forehead in her hand. Her headache throbbed in the upper right hand side of her head. Restless, Kara moved back into her bed, next to Rachel who rested.

### Kara lay down and fell fast asleep. She alternated sleep with her restlessness. With every toss, she awoke, her hair and shirt drenched in sweat. Her throat was parched but her tiredness overwhelmed her thirst.

### Before dawn, Kara popped up with a fright and a scream. The scream turned into a sob, and woke Rachel.

### Rachel hugged Kara's sweaty shoulders. She ran her fingers through Kara's snarled, sweaty hair.

"Shh... shh..." Rachel soothed. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"Yeah," Kara whispered through her parched throat.

"Scary dream?" Rachel asked. She ran her fingers through Kara's tufts.

"I saw him again. I mean, it was vivid and real. Nothing happened. I could hear his voice and smell his breath. It was as if he was here. It was not in the van this time. I was so scared it happened again: that he found me."

"It's okay, Kara, I'm here. I won't let it happen to you again," Rachel assured.

"I cannot help my dreams. It's there. No matter how much I do not think about it, it invades my dreams."

"When that happens, I'm here, okay?"

"Yeah," Kara sighed.

"Let's go back to sleep," Rachel said. She stroked Kara's hand with her thumb.

### Kara lay down and tucked her legs against her stomach. She loosened herself from Rachel's grip, folded her hands, and rested them under her cheek. She watched the clock change to 4:37 to 4:38. The minutes turned to an hour but sleep was not on the agenda for Kara.

### 5:37 came. Kara had enough boredom for one night. She slid out of the bed. She walked to her dresser and opened the drawer. Kara pulled out a pair of black, Reebok spandex running pants. She opened another drawer and pulled out a pink graphic shirt with an 88 printed on the chest. She looked at it and put it back in her drawer. She replaced it with a white tank top. Kara grabbed her Easy Tones.

### Kara had one pair of shoes she ran in and another she exercised in. She had a pair of red, black, and silver Rebook Zig Pulses for the basketball court.

### She sat on the floor and put on her shoes. She laced them. She made both bows the same with the same degree of tilt.

### Kara stretched her left leg, then her right leg. She stretched her inner thighs. She stood up and stretched her calves.

### Kara tiptoed to the door so she did not wake Rachel.

### She peaked at Rachel and watched her sleep.

### The door opened without a click and Kara stepped into the hallway. She stepped in the wrong spot and the floor creaked loudest there than anywhere in the house. She cussed under her breath and closed the door.

### Kara descended the stairs. The coffeemaker clicked on. It dripped water and brewed the grounds. The smell permeated the air with the aroma of the Dunkin Donuts coffee. The coffee finished its brew by 6:00 a.m. Her dad woke with the brewer. She made her way to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water and leave before her dad came down.

### Her stomach churned with the thoughts of him this early in the morning.

### Kara opened the bottle and took a quick swig. She headed for the front door. She grabbed a hoodie from the coat hooks on her way out. She slid it on and her dad's alarm went off.

### His feet slapped the wood floors and Kara was through the front door, undetected.

### It seemed darker outside than it did inside. The light from the sun made an appearance but the shadows from the trees prevailed. She circled the house and made her way through the backyard.

### The tall and slender pine trees, crowned with both red and green pine straw, were taller and more numerous in the backyard than they were in the front. She walked through the small forest in her backyard. The ground was still soaked from the night before and the red clay smeared on the side of her shoes and a little on the toes.

"Dang it," she said.

### Kara frolicked across the street to a dentist office, which always seemed out of place because there was not any other business in the area. A dentist office made it easier for runners and pedestrians to cut through to Jefferson Davis Avenue.

### Traffic was at a minimum on Jefferson Davis Avenue at dawn but it did not receive much more traffic throughout the day.

### Kara did her run and placed her red ear buds in and pressed play. Nothing beat a run to 80's rock, she thought. The Shuffle always had an uncanny way of playing songs with the most meaning for the moment.

### The intro to Bon Jovi's, "Runaway", brought smile to her face and a tickle to her eardrum.

### She ran. The cool, humid air moved through her hair and stroked her rosy cheeks. Nothing else mattered. She was alone, just her and the curve of asphalt. The asphalt clothed in duel yellow lines, which lead the way.

### The music was loud enough she could not her hear her feet pattered against the wet asphalt. Within minutes, she sweated through her t-shirt.

### The run rejuvenated her. She did the one thing she had loved and no one could take this away from her. The humidity. The pools of sweat formed on her abdomen and the small of her back. The pool was the thing that made it feel like it happened. The sweat trickled down her chest and gathered in the pool above her abdomen.

### Kara ran and pumped her fists in perfect cadence as the road curved in a northerly direction and westward still. A few minutes passed. The northwest direction changed north and north by northeast.

### The eastern sky was blue, and the western sky dark blue. The mountain still gave shade to the North and to the West.

### Kara came to a drive and the drive lead to a parking lot. She cut through and continued to a dirt path. The path led to the granite base, where the mountain lunged from the surface of the earth towards the sky.

### Kara ran but her momentum slowed because the incline increased. She was careful she did not lose her footing because the ground beneath her feet was nothing but granite covered in dew and remnants of last night's rain.

### Kara made this trek many times before. She had not made it this early before but she never had a reason.

### The morning air exhilarated. She neared the top and the sun rose over the summit. She ran around the moon and the sun rose and greeted her. The earth set over her horizon.

### Victory, she thought. She reached the crown of the mountain. She raised her hands in triumph and rested them on her head. She caught her breath and smiled. Up there, the world was conquered and she conquered it.

### The sun was brilliant and the clouds from the night before were a speck of darkness in the northeast.

### Kara approached the retaining fence. Her face was clothed in a smile. She held her hands out. She spun, as if she starred in the 'Sound of Music'.

### She set her hands on the chain link fence and rested her weight against the links. The face of the mountain was below her; the front the mountain dropped straight from the fence line. The three Confederates, Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis, hid below.

### Kara fixed her gaze beyond the fence and watched the sun pull the covers of darkness from the bed of the Greater Atlanta Metropolitan area. The shadow cast from Stone Mountain crept away and reached midway across the DeKalb County side of the City of Stone Mountain. The shadow hid from the sun and woke Stone Mountain into the Gwinnett County side of Stone Mountain.

### Kara thought it would be a great time for prayer but thought it was inappropriate because the Eagles sang "Hotel California," in her ears.

### Kara had not quite figured out what she might say to Him anyway. She was not mad at Him at this point but if she talked to Him, it would remind her of her rape.

"Dear God," Kara said. No other words came. She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"I'm this close to heaven and He's not listening," she shook her fists at the sky.

"You are not listening," she said. She stomped her left foot for each syllable and jumped at the last.

"If You are, just tell me why You're so mad at me," she lowered her head and resumed her position against the fence.

### Kara's boldness grew her adrenaline. She felt short of breathe and jittery.

### God does not care, Kara thought. The world does not care, she thought. She caught glimpses of cars on US 78 who headed to work.

### Kara read the sign posted on the fence. It always made for a good laugh.

"No Trespassing: Violators Will Be Prosecuted." Trespassers rendered themselves ineligibles for prosecution, she often said.

### She stood and scanned the city. Gravity pulled on her heart. Gravity pulled on her stomach and in her throat.

### I cannot believe I thought that.

"What would jumping solve," she whispered out loud. She stared over the edge.

### Nobody knows I'm gone, she thought. They would not know for another couple hours anyway. This would be the last place they looked. I would die before I hit the bottom and I would not have to feel like this anymore. I do not want to feel like this anymore. It would be hours before the Park Police would discover me; maybe days. Nobody would miss me. That's it.

### Kara put her fingers through the links. She looked over her shoulder. She mulled through it some more.

### Kara shoved her left foot through a link. She rested her body's weight onto her foot. She inhaled deep and exhaled shallow.

### She lifted herself off the ground and shoved her right toe into the fence a little higher into the heavens.

### The pull of the earth grabbed her sinews. Her heart thumped against her shirt. She remembered the scene from the Titanic and stretched her arms out. She donned a toothy smile. Gravity forced her knees into the links and her calves wobbled. Her feet tingled and the ground invited her to take the plunge.

### Kara breathed deep and held it. The wind drew a tear from her left eye.

### She climbed higher, swung her left leg over the fence, and straddled it. She faced west towards Atlanta. The fence swayed away from the mountain and her heart fought her lungs for space. She could not shift her momentum back towards the mountain because her center of gravity was in her hips. If she fell back to the top of the mountain, she would break her neck anyway.

### Kansas played again. It told her she should play those games tonight. The blood rushed out, and sweat decorated her forehead.

"This is awesome," she shouted. She raised her hands in the air in victory but her knuckles whitened from her grip. The earth had a stronger grip.

### Kara had no second thoughts. The burn of emptiness in her heart would not go away. There was no other hope, she thought.

"Who's in control," Kara screamed. She beat her chest with her right fist. She shook her little fist towards heaven. Tears of anger and rage filled her eyes.

"Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy! To die is gain! Amen!"

### She bowed her head and leaned over the fence. She clasped her arms over her chest. She hung by the strength of her saddle grip.

### Kara fell headlong towards the ground.

"I close my eyes," she sang with her ear buds. "Dust in the Wind," could not have been a more appropriate as the wind yanked at her ear buds.

### The force pulled her arms to her sides. Her face hit the cool air. She smiled and like Peter Pan, she flew earthbound.

### The trees closed in fast but she did not mind. She was happy she had not died yet because the experience gave her great joy. She flew past the three horses engraved on the mountain. A rush she'd remember the rest of her life.

### The ground closed in fast.

### She smiled and she said, "Breathe, Kara, breathe!"

### The pace of the plummet slowed. The ground seemed unreachable. Had she died and was her spirit in retrograde motion?

### An optical illusion, she hypothesized a theory she could never test.

### Kara was so close, she smelled the wet trees and the wet clay.

"Kara!" Rachel screamed.

"Shit!" Kara said.

### Had Rachel seen her jump? This was not the way she planned.

### Kara's chin hit the granite, which protruded near the base of the mountain. She had not calculated that either and everything flashed like a lightning bug followed by total darkness.

"Free Bird" played and she was surprised Lynard Skynard had made it to heaven but she was not surprised since she had made it too.

### Rachel screamed again and Kara's response was the same. She was confused. Did her sister jumped after her? Did heaven allow cussing?

### Faster than a freefall, the descent played in reverse. Oh, she was not in heaven yet. Her spirit had not made it yet.

"I guess soul sleep is a myth," Kara muttered.

"What?" Rachel said.

### She must have jumped. This bodily death thing is weird, she concluded.

### A strong arm embraced her legs and pulled her.

### Heaven and hell fought for her.

### Kara's body flailed back and her butt made square contact with the mountain.

### Kara saw Rachel at the time Lynard Skynard went into its guitar solo. Rachel folded her arms and squared her feet.

"What's the big idea?" Kara said, puzzled. She rubbed her tailbone and hopped to her feet. She took a step but sat back down.

### Rachel's mouth moved fast but the sound of a guitar filled the echelons of Kara's aural cavities.

### This was not how Kara pictured heaven. She figured the stereotypical harps rather than guitar solos in stereo. Why was there pain?

### Rachel gave Kara a stern look like she awaited a response from Kara was not sure what her sister wanted.

### Rachel reached and grabbed the cord to Kara's ear bud and yanked them out.

"Hey!" Rachel said, "What's the big idea? Are you crazy?"

### Kara imagined the whole jump.

"No!" Kara exclaimed, "I wanted to jump. I thought I did but I guess I was wrong."

"Why would you do that?" Rachel yelled. She jumped and took a swing at Kara's head.

"Why not? It could not have hurt as bad my heart hurts."

"That's bullshit," Rachel said and covered her mouth with both her hands.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of my bed," Kara said. She raised her left butt cheek. Kara squint her left eye. "You're being ridiculous.

"Well, I mean, seriously. I followed you all the way until the base of the mountain. I do not know how you can manage to run up here so fast. I get up here to be with you. And here you are getting ready to jump off the edge of the mountain to your death. On purpose!"

"Well," Kara said. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Well," Rachel said back, "That's plain stupid. What's wrong with you?"

"I did not jump. C'mon lets go," Kara said. She hopped up and wrapped her arms around Rachel's shoulders.

"What? Just like that?" Rachel asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, it would not work out anyway," Kara said. She patted the seat of her pants, and gimped towards the path down.

"What?" Rachel asked. She loosened herself from Kara's hold.

### Kara did not answer her. They walked down the mountain, and passed people who were on their ascent.

### The people on their way up stared at the girls. They wondered what shenanigans two teenage girls would be to. The received a couple courtesy salutations but mostly glares.

### They reached the bottom of mountain, and continued in lock step and ran the rest of the way around the mountain.

"I'm surprised you can keep up with me, Lil Sister," Kara puffed. "But then again, you are my little sister."

### Rachel smiled, "I am."

### The rest of her life sucked but Kara could not get over how much Rachel looked to her. Failure in front of Rachel was not an option.

### They arrived at 9:30. Kat sat at the kitchen table and sipped her coffee. She stared at both of them but did not say a word.

### Neither girl spoke but they headed upstairs.

### Kara showered and Rachel followed. They did their hair a makeup and spent the rest of the day cuddled on Kara's bed. They watched chick flicks and talked.

### Kat was home she left the girls alone. The world went on, but for Kara and for Rachel it stood still. They basked in each other's company for hours.

Chapter Twenty

"What a buzz!" the Acolyte said. "I'm a have to try this again," he said. He grinned a crooked grin. He looked over his sacrifice and admired her.

He redressed.

He did not waste any time. He wrapped Krista Plum in the sheet. With Krista, he wrapped a clerical collar. The Acolyte pushed her out the bathroom window and he left her. He gathered her clothes and dumped them out the back window.

The Acolyte made sure he made the bed and he had not left any traces of himself. He imagined with Krista. He should visit her again. Too risky, he thought.

The condom began a terminal itch. He scratched it. Got to go.

Paranoia.

He walked through the room again.

He stayed too long with Kara.

He opened the door and backed out. He looked around.

"Go," the Acolyte said.

He let the door go and it clicked. The room phone rang.

"Crap," he said. His eyes grew.

He twisted the knob but it was locked. He rocked on his feet and made up his mind it did not matter. He made it to his car.

He turned the key. It did not start.

"Please!" he said, panicked.

He turned it again. It sputtered. He mashed the accelerator twice.

"Dang it," he said. He stalled it but it kicked in and it balanced out. The car idled.

"Siren?" he observed.

His heart raced. He reached and shifted into reverse and peeled out of this spot. Clunk. Clunk. He was in drive. He rolled to a stop at the end of the drive. He looked left, and cherries and berries flashed. The emergency lights sped in his direction. He looked right.

Nothing.

As he pulled out to the right, he looked into the lobby. The clerk glared at him and attempted at eye contact with him. The clerk's head followed him to his car.

"45 miles per hour," he read aloud. He looked, "Do not speed. Do not go too slow."

The lights flashed. They blew past the motel in his the lane.

"Shit. Shit," he said. He searched his review mirror. He slowed and pulled over but there was not much of a shoulder.

The cop honked at him.

"It was a good run," he said.

The car blazed past him.

"What?" he said. He wrinkled his brow. He took a deep breath and blew out. His right leg quaked.

"Calm yourself," he said. The tremor chipped away.

The Acolyte got back to speed and watched a cop speed by him in the other direction. The same one, he thought. It slowed and turned left. He could not tell if the car pulled into the motel or not.

"Keep going," he grunted.

Another cop zoomed past. State highway patrol.

The Acolyte went further and pulled into a gas station. He went inside and bought a Coca Cola. He checked out, a police officer came in.

"Hey, Pete," the Pakistani cashier said to the officer. "What's the commotion about?"

"Dead hooker," he said and he did not stop. He bowed his head and walked to the bathroom.

The Acolyte set his bottle on the counter, and looked the old cashier in the eye. That was fast, he thought.

"Dollar fifty eight," the cashier said. He held his pink palm out.

The Acolyte gave him two dollars, grabbed his Coke and walked away.

"You do not want your change?"

"I'm in a hurry," he said, his eye focused on his car.

Another officer sat in the car and waited for the first. He tapped his fingers on the windowsill, and glanced at his watch, but never looked at the Acolyte.

The Acolyte got into his car and it ignited on the first try.

"Hey!" a voice yelled.

The cop waited for him. He walked to the Acolyte's car.

He rolled his window down and looked at the cop who approached. "Your tail light is out," he said. "I do not got time to write you a ticket, but you better get it fixed, or get back into Fulton County. They do not care so much about it there."

"Oh, thanks, I'll get it fixed," he said. His heart pushed on his throat.

"Have a goodnight."

"Thanks," he said. He rolled up his window. He was methodic and he put his seatbelt on. He pointed his car towards the exit, and went back towards the motel.

He planned on a route, which took the long way home. A short cut and they might catch him. But he'd be home in Fulton County in minutes if he went the short route.

Before he got back to the motel, the cruiser from the gas station passed him and turned into the motel lot.

He watched cars drive in both directions. They slowed at the motel and it was too awkward if he did not do the same. He crawled like ketchup in a glass Heinz bottle. He looked into the lot. Nothing to see. Everything happened inside or out back.

"That's awesome," he said. Goose bumps encroached on his neck. "I've never done that before."

His car sputtered down the road as his high lingered. He smiled because two more squad cars blew past. Too amped, he went back to the IHOP and ate. His TiVo ran at home so he could unwind and analyze the Channel 2 footage later.

Chapter Twenty-One

She watched movies all day, with Rachel and it was therapeutic. Kara delved into the movie, forgot her life.

The slow scenes did not keep her attention, Kara replayed the rape from her walk through the parking lot until the point she got to the minivan.

Kara played through the event. What she should have done it a different way and what ways she could have prevented it.

Her eyes blurred. She mulled over the different scenarios. The audio of the movie muted in her mind.

"I've driven myself crazy," she told Rachel.

Rachel looked at her.

"I replayed the different scenarios of what could have been. Each one has its own variables and each variable produces another list of variables."

"Like what?" Rachel queried.

"From the time the door opened. It's so vivid in my mind. It's the way a nightmare replays after the dreamer awakes. It's more vivid than reality. When I remember other things, I remember it like a third party to the event. I remember what I looked like and where I was in reference to the other person, like I look on it from heaven."

Rachel's eyes looked toward the ceiling, and she nodded.

"This is different. I remember it through my eyes. I remember the first grip on my wrist and the pain in my throat. I feel everything over and over again.

"Every fear, every pain, every fleeting thought. I'm here in this bedroom, on my bed, in front of my TV. My mind is in the van.

"It torments me. How I imagine a demon torments the possessed. It's not a past event. It's a current event."

Kara talked but mind replayed his hand's shadow. It reached out and grabbed her. Her breathes became short. She remembered: the struggle, the thoughts; each overlapped the other.

Kara continued, without breath, "Shame. I'm ashamed. That shame is a constant assault."

Breathe. She remembered her survival instinct. Breathe. She breathed in the memory. Breathe, she told her reality. Gasp.

Rachel put her hand on Kara's wrist and pulled her away from the memories. Kara looked at her and feigned a smile.

"Yeah, I cannot imagine," Rachel said. "I remember being so confused when mom and dad came home and left again. I did not know what was going on.

"When you did not come home on Sunday... I was too scared to ask mom and dad what happened. I did not want to find out. I did not know what to think.

"But the feelings I had when you told me shook me at my core. I cannot imagine what it must be like."

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," Kara said. "It's not fair you have to feel these feelings."

"It's not your fault and what I'm going through is not your fault either. It does not compare to what you're going through."

Kara sighed. She did not have words for her sister. Kara's heart hurt for her but Rachel did not want Kara to share in her hurt. She shared in Kara's hurt.

The conversation fizzled because the movie picked up again. They watched movies through dinner and ate cold pizza for dinner even though their mom made chicken cordon bleu for dinner. They had filled a cooler with a case of Dr. Pepper and lugged it up the stairs. Through the course of the day, they had overflowed Kara's trash with empty cans, yet they drank more.

Kara popped another Pepcid and a couple Up and Up: Migraine. She did all she could and watched the rest of "Pride and Prejudice" but Mr. Darcy could not keep her awake and Kiera Knightly's voice lulled Kara to sleep.

Kara had a weird dream too bizarre she forgot it when she woke up. She woke to, "Mrs. Darcy," and some explanation of when Mr. Darcy could call her that.

Kara lay wide-awake but Rachel slept. Kara sat and changed the channel to ESPN, in time for the 11 p.m. edition of Sports Center.

Nothing relaxed more than the routine of Sports Center. Kara lost herself in her thoughts again. The temperature rose in the room. At least it did in her mind.

She produced numerous beads of sweat. She had disdain for her thoughts since they led her to one place. When she did not occupy her mind by anything else but left to her own thoughts, it was inevitable what they would be.

She kept her mind busy. She went to her computer and signed in. She opened Firefox and opened Facebook.

She had two friend requests so she clicked the link and saw who requested her friendship and she smiled at the sight of the first one. It was Alexander Fredrick. She clicked and accepted it. Her heart pounded.

Her hand was jittery. She chewed her tasty lip.

Kara clicked his profile picture and looked at various pictures. There were pictures in his BDU's and others in his Blues.

There was a photo with him in an undershirt and BDU pants in a tent. The ground was dusty and the sun shone bright through the opening in the tent. His dog tags dangled from his bacon neck shirt.

Kara milled through some more and found a few pictures with his family. There were pictures in his civilian clothes and one in a Drew Brees official jersey. His face was painted and his tongue hanged out.

Kara had a fit of laughter. He made the Saints jersey look sexy, she thought.

The red icon circled a number one and reminded her there was another friend request.

Jonathon Twigg. The name did not ring a bell but his picture looked familiar. She clicked on his name for what else she could find out.

Kara looked at his pictures and while he looked familiar, she could not figure out why. He hung out with some of the guys from the boy's basketball team from school.

He had thirty-three mutual friends with Kara and a few of them were people who Kara was good friends with. She looked at his info and it said he went to her school. She'd add anybody from her school. The school already vetted him.

The moment Kara hit accept, a private message popped up from Alex.

"You online?" Kara read.

Kara counted the cursor flash thirteen times. She bit her lip.

Kara went to the bathroom, came back, and resumed her position.

His name still had a green dot next to it. Kara clicked his name and studied his 'info'.

"Hey you," she typed.

The cursor flickered.

The dialogue bubble popped up on Alex's screen but no message.

Back space. Back space. Back space. Back Space. Back Space. Back Space. Back Space.

The dialogue bubble disappeared.

Kara watched the cursor blink again.

"You found me," she responded. Enter.

"How are you doin'?" he replied.

"Bad. Can't sleep."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Eh... it's not your fault."

"No, but I wish I could do more."

"I wish I could do more for me," she complained. She rolled her eyes.

"My mind wanders to that night. What if I had come outside sooner?

"What if I was too late? You cannot think like that. I have beaten myself up thinking like that. The possibilities of 'what if's' are endless and each one produces a hundred more variables. It'll drive a person crazy."

"Yeah, I hear you. I cannot help it."

"Well..."

"If there is anything I can do. You ought to take me up on my offer for self defense classes."

"When are they? I might do it just to get my mind on something else. At least until basketball season starts anyway. I cannot stand any downtime by myself. It drives me crazy.

"I've never been so paranoid in all my life.

"I thought he's gonna find me; that he's followed me. I feel at any minute he's going to do it again and this time... kill me." She typed fast and did not wait for Alex' response. The words flowed from her fingertips. She processed through it for the first time, instead of recalling it.

Surprised by openness, the chat gave Kara safety.

"Yeah, I cannot imagine," Alex said. "They add new people to their classes on Monday nights. You could come out tomorrow and hang out with me. Maybe you can show me a thing or two about basketball. I used to play too, when I was in high school."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I played."

"No, I mean, do you want to get beat by a girl?"

"Bring it."

"I would but you'll have to pick me up because if you still have any kind of gentlemanry in you, you would."

"Before a butt kicking?"

"A true gentleman would."

"Wow. Hey, I have to get going. I'm working a crazy shift tonight."

"You have my phone number so call me."

"Will do. See ya."

"See ya."

Kara's heart experienced some like for the first time. It was different from the other day when they went to the Pizza Café.

It tingled. It felt warm. It felt wrong. It felt right.

Kara trusted again but she maintained caution.

Kara smiled. She closed the browser and shut down her computer.

She smiled more. She walked to the television, shut it off, and climbed back into bed. It seemed like it was go a good night after all.

She nuzzled back in her blankets and kissed Rachel on the forehead. She lay down and closed her eyes.

Kara dozed into Never-Never Land. She dreamt she was Tinker Bell Never Never Land was Atlanta.

She flew to the minivan and she was yanked in against her will. Rachel's voice soothed her and said everything would be all right but it was her voice and nothing else.

Next, she lay naked on her bed, except it was not her bed or in her room. It was dark and a cool wind blew. Her wings tucked under her back and she faced the ceiling.

A shadow crept over her. The shadow brought back every emotion she felt from the rape. The shadow raped Kara. She fought but did not win.

Rachel's voice continued.

Alex stood in the corner and watched the whole thing. He never moved. With his right hand, he covered his mouth. In the other corner, her dad stood and faced the wall and never once looked at her.

Across the room was a window. Outside the window stood a girl whom she had met once at basketball camp one time four years ago. She dropped out after the first three days but for some reason, she was here and she watched the shadow violate Kara.

Kara could hear his voice. It thundered chills through her body. The vividness made her stomach churn. Maybe this was not a dream she thought. This is so bizarre. She cried.

The shadow spoke aloud and said, "I heard you have been talking."

"I do not know what you're talking about," Kara said. She covered her face.

The shadow manifested itself as the rapist. Kara saw mouth, shrouded in the shadow. His teeth clenched and he said, "I know you're saying things."

"What things?" Kara said. She played innocent.

He raised a wing of the shadow into a fist and swung at her but he withheld the blow.

"You told them what I did."

"No, I swear!" she reasoned. The shadow violated her body over again. The penetration of the shadow was surreal; it was more spiritual and emotional than physical.

"Do not lie to me," he screamed and faked another swing. Kara's body flinched in reality. He covered her face with his hands.

"I swear, I would not tell anybody!"

He became frustrated. He cocked back and struck and this time followed through and hit her cheek.

Kara popped up and screamed. Her shirt sopped with sweat. Uneven streams of tears raced down her face.

Kara had opened her eyes and Rachel was there by her side and comforted her.

Rachel embraced. Rachel rubbed her back and soothed her.

"He did it to me again," Kara cried. She scrambled to an upright position.

"It's okay, it was a dream," she soothed.

"It was real. Dad was there, with his back turned, and Alex too. He watched and offered no help. It was a shadow. And the shadow raped me and somehow the rapist was on top of the shadow, and he screamed at me. He swung at me and missed several times. He did hit me eventually and I woke up."

Breathe. Hold. Exhale.

"It's alright. I'm here."

"I have to pee," Kara said. She hopped out of bed and left the bedroom.

She sat on the toilet with her shirt hiked to her rib cage and her underwear rested on her socks. Kara took a deep breath and rested her face in the palms of her hands, elbows planted on her thighs.

"Will this ever end?" she said. She wiped the dried salt pools from the puffy bags under her eyes.

She finished going to the bathroom, stood, and turned the sink on to a medium temperature. She washed her hands and splashed water on her face.

She rested her weight on her arms and suspended her body over the sink. Kara looked into the mirror and looked at herself eyeball to eyeball. She flicked her hair behind her ear but kept her glare locked in.

"Are you serious?" Kara asked herself. "Get a grip," she said through gritted her teeth.

She lifted her left hand and struck herself on the cheekbone. She placed her hands back on the counter top. She curled her fingers. She scratched her nails into the granite rock and filed her nails down. She left her nails worse than a person who had a terrible, nail biting, habit.

She reached with both hands and gripped her face. She grimaced at herself in the mirror.

"Make it stop," Kara cried with her eyes wide open. "I want to sleep one night through, please," she begged.

She let her face go and reached for a glass and got a drink of water and crawled into bed.

Kara crawled back into bed. Where she had slept was still wet with sweat. She got back out, pulled the top sheet over, and lay on top. Rachel's eyes were shut so Kara pulled her comforter over face. I just need to go back to sleep. A little. Uninterrupted. Sleep.

"How are you doing?" Rachel asked.

"Holy crap you scared me!" Kara said.

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay. I thought you were asleep," Kara said. "I want it to go away. I'm tired of the memories. I'm tired of reliving it over and over again and it's more vivid than anything else. You know, like a vivid dream, which sticks like something that happened. There's nothing else that seems so real than a dream. Most reality does not have that kind of impact, because it seems surreal. This seemed surreal in the beginning but it seems more real than any other part of life. Reliving it seems more real than real life. I want it to end. I'm rambling," Kara said. She slapped her forehead with her hand.

"No, you're alright," Rachel assured. "It's okay to get this stuff out and I am helpless to do anything besides listen."

"I'm so glad you're my sister," Kara said. "I cannot think of a time when I was glad like I am now."

"I think I understand. I'm glad I can be here. I wish I could do more, like when you hurt your knee before your championship game in eighth grade. I was too small to do more but I remember wishing you could use my knee. I might have told Mom to tell the doctor to transplant my knee."

"Ha-ha. I remember. Mom told me and it helped me a lot. You've always been so caring." Kara paused and added, "I think I'm ready to go to sleep again."

"Yeah, me too," Rachel said. "Kara?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Rach!"

"If there's anything I can do, you let me know."

"I will, Rachel. Thank you so much. I love you."

"I love you, too."

The night continued in the same manner. Monotonous like instructions on a shampoo bottle. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

Kara repeated the crazy dreams and they woke her every time. After the third or fourth, she convinced herself she dreamed it. Her dreams woke her afterwards. Kara contained her reactions better and she did not wake Rachel.

One of the most bizarre dreams she had, was more realistic than any of the others. Kara dreamed the exact rape as it happened, except he could never penetrate. He got frustrated with her because he was unsuccessful.

She could not focus on anything else other than the rape. Kara had been roused from the nightmares and she mind filled with the dreams. She would get over it and go back to sleep. No matter what, she dreamed. She got tired of the dreams.

A southern thunderstorm had rolled. It was intense, for Stone Mountain. Thunder rolled, and flickers of lightning flashed, one after the other.

"Shock and awe," she said.

Kara sat by the window again and watched the lightning flash. The flashes were so brilliant, that she developed an aversion to the light. She tunneled her hands over her eyes and blocked some of the light.

The thunder was relentless. It pounded her eardrums.

After tonight, she was not convinced rain fell horizontally. In books and on television, rain fell from the sky but she had never seen it. In fact, she became sure it was a fictional idea.

She was so tired and the dreams so repetitious she was convinced into think her life was a fictional idea. The reality of the rape seemed more surreal than the memories.

She covered her eyes. The lightning was too much and she was so tired she crawled back into bed. She glanced once more at the clock, she looked, and it was 3:45. It was her last shot for some sleep otherwise, she would give up.

Kara slept for an hour from her last dream. She stayed in bed against her will.

She was not a morning person, but she grew tired of the crazy dreams. When she thought it was late enough, she got up.

If she kept going, she thought, she would not sit and dwell on what was going on too much longer.

Today was no exception. She slid out of bed and planted my feet to the floor. She stretched to her full height and reached towards the heavens. Her midriff peaked out. Her cinnamon roll outty belly button made a cameo appearance and then her pajama shirt landed on boy shorts.

She removed her nightshirt and gave a curtain call to her navel. She introduced her fragile body to an audience of none.

In the quiet, Kara rummaged through her top drawer. She pulled out a black Reebok sports bra and put it on. Goose bumps seized her body.

She yanked the bottom drawer out and pulled out some Reebok soccer shorts. She stepped into them and hopped in and in one yank, and pulled them up.

Kara smiled at the swooshing sound. The noise exhilarated because her body knew what happened next. A Pavlov experience. Her mind had fallen in love with the noise. It was a recess from the rest of her life.

The chill of the morning nipped her skin. Kara made her way to the closet and found a hoodie. She lifted the lid on the chest on the floor and reached for the first hoodie.

The first hoodie she picked was a plush ash colored hoodie. It was soft and full like a brand new sweatshirt. The tag rattled and she noticed what shirt it was.

"Where did this come from?" She muttered out loud. She held it and let it unfold as a note card fell out, as it glided to the floor.

Kara lifted the card as if she played black jack. She held it with both hands like it was a postcard from a lover who was off to war.

She read the large letters.

Her jaw dropped. She concealed her expression and wrapped her hand around her mouth. A tear dropped and traced its way around her thumb pad. It continued its fall past the knuckle.

She popped upright and pulled the sweatshirt over her head. Kara scampered to her vanity and saw how it looked. "Reebok" was embroidered in white letters with an embroidered black backdrop.

With both hands, she rubbed the softness from her shoulders passed her waist. She turned and saw how it fit. She swung her hands back and smiled. She twisted her right foot with glee.

"You're awake already?" Rachel moaned.

"Yeah. Sorry if I woke you."

"Are you going running?" she asked. She rubbed her eyes and waited.

"Yeah," Kara said. She grabbed a pair of socks out of the top drawer and her Easy Tone shoes.

"Wait for me," Rachel said. She got to her feet.

"I will wait downstairs," Kara said with a twinkle in her eye.

"K," Rachel said. She scurried out the bedroom door and to her bedroom.

Kara followed but turned the other direction and flew down the stairs. Her feet pattered so hard yet so quick on the wood steps her stomach turned as if she rode the highest Six Flags roller coaster.

The coffee finished its brew and the first cup disappeared already. Kara knew her dad was awake. She scanned the kitchen and the living room but she did not see him. She dropped her shoes and socks and raced through the living room to the hall towards her dad's home office. He stood in the doorway and sipped his cup of coffee.

Kara planted her feet and stuck her landing in front of him.

John smiled like George Clooney with his straight, pearl white teeth.

Kara threw her arms around him. He lifted his mug and so she did not spill it.

"I love you too, Daddy," she whimpered in response to the note.

"I'm sorry, Honey," he cried. He hugged her. He rubbed his left hand up and down her back.

"It's been so hard for me to deal with. I know it is not anything like what it's been like for you but it kills me. It always happens to somebody else; not me, not my family."

"Shah... you do not have to explain it to me, Daddy," she said. She leaned her head back and looked into his beady brown eyes.

He stepped back and set his cup down.

"Do not move," he said. He made an inch sign with his fingers.

He grabbed her hood and she looked at what he grabbed.

"Let's get this taken off," he said. He plucked the price tag. With the snap of the tag, she embraced his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you so much."

"I had it to give to you yesterday," he explained. "But you were gone and I had not been awake yet."

"Yeah..." Kara said.

"I figured if it worked for a boy, who you barely know it would work r old man."

"You already have my heart, Daddy," she said. She beamed and gleamed a look at him sideways.

"I need to get to my morning jog," Kara said. "Thanks so much again. I love you, Daddy!" her voice squeaked.

Kara met Rachel in the kitchen and they headed out the door. They made their way to Jefferson Davis and began their trek.

Kara was in powder blue shorts, her new hoodie and her Easy Tone shoes. Each item Reebok.

Rachel was in her powder blue soccer shorts, and a darker grey hoodie with black basketball shoes. Her clothes were exclusively Adidas.

They jogged in step, westward. Their ponytails bobbed and swung side to side as they ran into the shadows of the west side of the mountain. They disappeared into the dark. The rest of the city awoke. The birds, the cicadas and other joggers.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jonathon Twigg had not slept but a few minutes.

He took a great risk by adding Kara as a friend on Facebook. It made his belly turn as by the possibilities. If she only accepted his request.

The sunlight peered through the blinds. He hopped out of his queen sized bed and plopped in the swivel chair. He reached and bumped his hand on his stack of yearbooks he felt for the power button on his PCU.

He rubbed his hands and waited for the computer. It fired up and he logged on. He put his TV on channel 2.

He looked at the row of pictures he had taped to his wall; Kara's hung in the middle.

Jonathon did not think it through. What would he do if she accepted his friend request? He was not sure if she knew he existed.

This would be the start. She would know him and maybe she would consider him. He figured she would think she was out of his league but he would try. He put it all on the line.

It had booted. He opened his browser and clicked the Facebook tab.

Mozilla Crash Report.

"Dang it," he said.

He opened it again. He clicked the tab and it loaded in slow motion. He tapped his fingers on the desk.

"Yes!" he said. His long awaited answer appeared. He looked her pictures and stopped at length at her pictures at the Outer Banks in North Carolina.

A photo of Kara in a one piece excited Jonathon.

Still sticky from last night, he thought. He pulled his hand to his nose and smelled his hand. Latex full of nickels.

"Phew," he said. "I need a shower."

He tucked his hand back in and stayed on the picture.

A soft knock came at his bedroom door and it clicked open. He removed his hand from briefs and closed the Facebook tab.

"Mom!" he said. "What are you doing?"

"Jonathon, you scared me!" she said back.

"Knock and wait!"

"I'm doing laundry. You are not ever awake this early," she said. She lowered her tone.

"Mom, I'm in my underwear. Privacy, please?"

"Yeah, hurry and get dressed. I can't wait all day to do your laundry. This place is a pigsty. When was the last time you had your sheets washed? You need the Patron Saint of cleanliness hanging on your wall," she said. She slammed his door.

Jonathon did not answer. He glared at his mom until she left his room. His sheets were perpetually dirty from his constant pillow humping.

"Why change them, if they are going to get dirty anyway," he justified on more than one occasion. Nobody came anyway. He had no friends; acquaintances maybe.

Frustrated, he grabbed his pants from the floor that were wet from the rain a few days earlier. He did not care.

He made his mom wait. He logged onto his email and typed Kara a letter. If he expressed how he liked her she might knew he existed. With tact, he prepared his email and shared his heart.

She would like him after this, he thought.

Chapter Twenty-three

The run was amazing. Half way around, a quick morning rainstorm moved in and gave them a second wind.

The rainstorm came so left. The last leg of the trip, the sun beat down and the humidity skyrocketed. With the humidity came the heat.

By the time they got home, they both sweated through their sweatshirts with sweat spots, which formed at their elbows, abs, and backs.

They crashed through the front door and the cool air crashed back. The temperature change stung like if she ate a hot bowl of soup followed by an ice cream cone.

Rachel showered first since she had school. Kara decided in her mind she would not go to school until Monday. However, she could not concentrate on a movie without distractions. How could she pay attention in class?

With the nightmares she had, and the lack of sleep, she would be more successful if she waited until next week. She had herself convinced the further she was removed from the rape, the less it would affect her.

Her mom talked to the state sponsored counselor and scheduled an appointment for Kara.

Rachel took her shower upstairs and Kara helped herself to some orange juice, coffee, and Crispix.

It was too early for Dr. Pepper, she decided.

Kara took her hoodie off and ate her breakfast in her sports bra and soccer shorts and soaked in the cooler air.

Kara ate her cereal and Kat came downstairs with a yellow laundry basket wedged on her right hip. She kissed Kara on the forehead.

Kara looked at Kat with her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk and smiled. "I wove vu," she said between bites.

"I love you, too," Kat smiled.

She looked at Kara's hoodie, strewn on the floor, "Does this need washed?"

"Yeah," Kara said through her milky phlegm throat.

"Perfect, it'll give me a full load and I won't feel wasteful."

Kara smiled at her mom and smiled through breakfast. Kara delighted in her mom's care for the family. It made her heart happy.

Kara had finished her meal. She chugged her coffee until she left a sip.

Kara climbed the stairs, to her room, and sat in front of her computer and checked her email. Since it was the official the commencement of the new school year, she checked her school email.

Kara had one email with daily announcements and it included an attached file with the calendar for the entire school year.

She had three more from teachers whom she was supposed have in class. The teachers welcomed her to a new school year and said they looked 'forward to the fun we'd have in class this year'. Two of the emails were sincere, the third was questionable. There was no way teacher would have fun.

There was one peculiar email. It was not spam because the filters for the school email worked well.

The people who would get an email through would be somebody who knew the email, but the sender was unfamiliar. A person would know the correct combination of first name and last name.

The email address was "admirable_xchange@gmail.com". The subject line read "secret admirer".

"What the heck?" she said. Her eyebrows hinged. The cursor hovered top of the email. She debated whether she should open it or not.

Kara did not need an admirer let alone a secret one. She tapped her left index finger on the desk and dialoged within herself. She made up her mind.

The door to her bedroom pushed open and it was Rachel, dressed and ready for school, with her backpack in tow.

Kara jumped. She clicked the red circle in the upper left hand corner of the browser.

"I love you and I'll see you this afternoon," Rachel said.

"I love you too," Kara said.

"What was that? Checking your school email?"

"Yeah, the same stuff every year," she said. She nibbled on bottom lip and looked at her dresser.

Kara stood and gathered her clothes and took a shower. Rachel said, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, you know. It's as good as it could be."

"Okay, I'll see yah."

"See yah, Rachel."

Kara followed Rachel out of the room. Rachel bounded down the stairs and Kara scurried into the bathroom.

The latch clicked and a soft knock came at the door. Alarmed, she opened the door quickly.

"Kara," her mom said. She frowned and held her cell phone in her hand.

Kara's stomach churned within her. A vomit lay in wait, but she waited and found out what was going on first.

Her mind blinked through all of the different possibilities for bad news. For each thing she was sure it was, she played through her reaction to it.

"I have bad news," her mom continued.

"I knew it," Kara complained. She folded her arms and turned her back to her mom.

"It's Krista Plum," Kat blurted.

"What? Mom, what happened to her?" Kara said.

"Come here, Kara," Kat said. She took Kara into her arms.

"No! Let me go. Tell me what happened," Kara scathed through her teeth.

Kat stepped back, frightened by Kara's response. She reached one hand out with her fingers stretched out.

"I'm sorry, Baby... She's."

Kara raised her eyebrows. "She's what, Mom?"

"She's dead," Kat said. She lowered her head.

"What do you mean she's dead? How do you know? She's been missing for a month."

"It's her. Her parents identified her this morning. They think a pimp lured her into prostitution and she was hiding, downtown. They think it's the same guy who got you," she said. She moved her head so into Kara's eyes.

"Oh," Kara said. She looked at the floor and turned her body away from her mother.

Kara did not say anything else. She did not think anything else. Her body was motionless. Her eyes locked onto nothing, her eyelids drifted apart and her pupils grew in size.

Kara did not breathe so she brought herself back from her stay-cation. She still stared, but not like one who was catatonic.

Her diaphragm raised and lowered with her breath.

Kara looked at Kat and said, "Mother, I need to take a shower. I stink." One arm crossed her chest, she closed the door.

Kat stood outside the door.

"I do not understand, Kara," Kat said.

Kara was silent.

She turned and faced the mirror, once again. She engaged herself in a staring contest. She braced the countertop and shook her head in disgust.

Whoever wrote a secret admirer letter could not know what's happened to me. I'm damaged goods. Nobody will ever want me. Heck, I do not want me.

"Shit," she said. She shook her head once more and looked down at the countertop.

"I cannot deal with Krista," she said.

Her heart ached. Her soul hurt. It hurt if she looked at herself in the mirror. She hated it. She lowered her eyes and refused eye contact with herself.

Ashamed. What kind of person would allow herself to be raped?

His words resonated in her mind.

He must have been right, she concluded. This kind of thing does not happen to people who do not deserve it. She must have deserved it.

"Slut," she muttered. She glared at her reflection out of the side of her eyes.

"I dress like a slut. My Facebook picture shows I'm a slut. I'm a slut."

Kara dropped her shorts. She peeled her sports bra and panties off, her sweat acted like an adhesive.

She stood, erect. Naked. Ashamed. Her eyes scanned her skin. She ran her hands down her ribcage like a mallet on a xylophone before they rested on her hips.

Kara moved one hand and traced the loosened scab. The scab readied itself and would fall off. It would scar and remind her she was dirty and whorish.

"Slut," she said.

Kara balled her little hand. She gripped. She cocked back and uppercut herself with a right fist and nodded. She grinned at herself in the mirror.

Kara turned the shower on. She twisted both knobs until she was satisfied with the temperature. She stood back, not ready for the shower, yet.

Her chest pined with strain. Kara dropped to an inclined pushup position and rested her palms on the side of the bathtub.

"Down: one," she started and held. She counted to five and she stared at her narrow chest and watched her pectoral muscles tighten.

"Up: down: two," she grunted and held herself again. She counted to five.

"Up: down: three," she said, stared down her body-scape.

Her body looked more beautiful from here than in the mirror. She beheld somebody else's body. Not hers.

"You look good, Kara," she told herself.

Why could not I see it like this all the time? Why can I see it like this when it does not look like it's mine? Why do I see it this way when I'm working out?

She could see her body's value when she worked out. She saw the value when she broke down her muscles... when she beat herself.

Breathe. "Up: down: twenty-... four."

She held herself longer for twenty-five. Her arms trembled.

The burn thrilled her. There, Kara pushed out twenty-five with a roar and bounced to her feet and into the shower.

"Oh, god. That feels so good. Oh my god."

Kara traced her wet pectoral muscles with her fingertips and smiled at the firmness. She smiled and examined how solid she had become. Nothing made her happier. Her body was the thing she had firm control of.

She reached her right hand and grabbed her triceps on her left arm. Kara ran her fingers up and down, and felt how toned her triceps had become. She flexed, and relaxed: she smiled. She switched and repeated.

She reached up, let her hair out of the ponytail holder, and shook her head. Kara closed her eyes and she stepped into the warm, hot water. She soaked in the thing that remained normal.

Kara's thoughts besieged her. For a moment, she had reprieve because something else took over; exercise. Nothing else relaxed her like beating her body into submission did.

This shower was like no other shower, since Friday. For the first time, since then she showered and washed herself: no extracurricular scrubs or soap in places, which did not require soap. She could not be sure that she'd shower this way again.

The shower exhilarated her. It was like a warm summer rain fell. Kara soaked it in like a daisy.

The mundane. She shampooed, washed, rinsed, and soaked. It had become a source of relaxation. Kara drenched herself in the balminess of the shower.

After she achieved relaxation and her fingers had pruned, Kara got out of the shower. She wrung her hair out with one towel and dried herself off with the other.

Kara wrapped her hair in one and wrapped her body in the other

She poked her head out the door and looked both ways. She cleared the hall and darted into her bedroom.

Kara closed her door, snuck back to her computer, and checked her school email. "How", or "why" or "what" or "who" were the answers she looked for.

Kara scanned and found the email. Her heart beat hard in her chest but her breath was difficult. Her stomach turned. She waited for the email. She stared at it but she did not read it when it appeared on her page.

Kara dumped her towels on the floor and made her bed. She glanced at her computer.

After she made her bed, Kara laid on it. She stared at the designs on the ceiling. She found a dinosaur, a giraffe, and a clown.

The tinge in her chest reminded her of pushups. She rubbed her pectoral muscles and searched for other random designs on the ceiling.

She dropped and pushed out twenty-five more pushups but did not hold them. Kara flipped and did flutter kicks. Her buttocks and lowered abdomen stung. She rolled and did twenty-five pushups. She struggled to her back and busted out crunches until they burned too much.

"Six hundred... seventy eight," Kara said. She stopped and sprawled across the carpet. Her breaths were heavy.

She was worn out. The floor scratched her back and her butt. It irritated her enough she sat in her desk chair.

Kara slid her mouse the screen saver went away.

"Dear Kara," she read to herself.

Kara opened a new tab. She checked her Facebook and the news and her personal email before she closed the new tab.

She stared at the "Dear Kara."

Kara skimmed the purple prose to the "Yours truly, Secret Admirer."

Kara finished the email. She clicked out of the browser as she had when Rachel had come through her door. Her right hand remained on the mouse and her left hand sat parallel on the desk.

Kara breathed.

"It was seedy and cheesy and not at all charming," she said.

She could not figure out why anyone would write such thing nor could she imagine a guy so desperate he'd do something like that either.

Why was he so weak he could not talk to her face to face? Not that she would have gone out with him anyway but the nerve and shallowness of such a guy. If he had a chance, it would have been face to face and not this, she reasoned.

She reopened her browser and returned to her email.

Delete.

"That's gross," she said.

Kara turned her chair. She stared at her dresser but dawdled with her thoughts.

She got her clothes.

First, she put jeans and a tee.

"Eck," she said to her reflection in the mirror. "These pants make me look fat."

Kara changed into a spaghetti strap shirt and pajama pants. She brushed her hair out and tied it in a bow.

She got herself ready. Kara took her perch at the head of her bed. She sat with her knees tucked and feet out in front, wrapped her arms, and grabbed her velour covered legs. She stared at the foot of her bed.

She gazed at the patterns on her comforter. Sometimes Kara's gaze was out of subconscious and others out of conscious.

"I wish it would be over," she mumbled.

Kara sat and stared. She did not know what else she could do. She was not motivated for anything else. She was scared to do anything else.

Her mom came brought her a grilled cheese sandwich on wheat, cut at an angle, with apple slices and an identical plate for her. Kat brought two Dr. Pepper's with her, one for each.

She sat on the corner of the foot of Kara's bed. Both ate their fill in silence.

They had finished and Kara broke the silence.

"I'm tired of living like this, Mom."

"Like?"

"I jump at any sound not a constant sound. The hum of the mail truck; every time he closes mailbox startles me. The neighbor around the cal de sac slams his house door and scares me to death. Car doors, random dogs barking, distant sirens all send me into complete panic mode and I'm tired."

Kara looked at her lap. She lost herself deep in thought.

"I would keep my baby," she said.

"What?" Kat said. She scrunched her eyebrows.

"The lady at the hospital told me to take a pill or get an abortion.

"If God would bless me with a child, He would bless me with the means to take care of her, at my age."

Kat nodded. She watched her daughter's mouth. Kara continued.

"Because a crime was committed against me, does not give me the right to do the same to somebody else and deny the opportunity to live. My life was not taken. It does not make sense.

"I mean, Mamma, I've already lost something I vowed I would keep until I was married. Why should I lose my integrity and give into the pressure of the nurse? I do not want my integrity and my purity lost all because I was raped."

"Then it gets back to that. I was raped, Momma."

Kat scratched her chin and said, "Mhmm."

"Did I do something to deserve this? I know I'm a sinner but God said he forgave me. I hurt so much. Not my body, but my soul."

Kara looked at the ceiling, threw her hands up, and said, "God, it hurts so much down here. I still do not understand it. Why do you allow this to happen to us?

"Do you think I dress seductively, Momma. Maybe I sent signals and did not follow through on them.

"If I would have waited for Annie to come out this would not have happened. It's common sense. I'm stupid: so stupid!

"If I had been smarter. If I would have been grateful for the food we had at home that day or if I had gotten to work earlier, this would not have happened. I could have parked where I always parked.

"Nobody cares. Why would they care? I'm damaged goods. I'm not a virgin anymore. Daddy's ashamed of me. None of my friend's will be able to look at me the same way again. And Rachel looked up to me. She put on a strong face but...

"Oh! I'm so dirty. I'm so damaged. I'm so disgusting. I wish he would have killed me. I cannot live like this. I do not want this anymore; this life or the next. If he was right, and I do make amends, I will see him in heaven. I cannot look at him. Can hell be worse than seeing him again for eternity?"

Breathe.

Breathe.

She could not look her mother. Her mom sniffed though.

"I hate sitting here. You know how quiet it gets when someone gets mad at you and there is an awkward silence. Yeah, it's like that."

"I thought you wanted silence," her mom clarified through tears.

"It's not the silence. I do not know what to say to God. I feel like being raped was his way of lashing out at me. It's as if he scolded me for something.

"God's silence is killing me. He had to be mad and this was his way of letting me know and now the silence.

Kat wondered.

Kara could tell her mom argued with herself. She had no words.

"Momma, are you going mad too?"

Kara figured her mom would say it was not fair she take this out on God and she'd say he's a good God and he would not let something bad happen. Bad things would happen and God would make good things come from it. That is what she would say.

Kat raised her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She fought back tears. She got her angry face on, jaw pushed forward, eyebrows ruffled. And it came.

"I cannot stop crying out. 'How long, Oh, Lord?'" Kat said through tears.

"How long do we have to put up with this? How long until we are avenged? I am sick and tired of this world. I am sick and tired of all the evil here."

Kara's jaw dropped, her eyes expanded.

"It's not this," Kat expounded. "It's been bubbling up but this was the last straw.

"Why do children die in the crossfire downtown? Why does cancer overtake the innocent so young? Why are there a billion starving people? Why did he..." she choked up, "allow this... to happen... to my baby?"

Kat sniffled but Kara sat unmoved on the outside. On the inside her stomach knotted. Kat stared at the ceiling and Kara stared through Kat.

Kat cleared her throat. She lowered her head and looked at Kara sideways, but never made eye contact.

"I," she breathed deep, "I," she emphasized, "was being selfish."

Kara went from being catatonic to interested. If her eyebrows were painted yellow, they could have been McDonald's signs.

Kat paused and breathed deep.

Kara lowered her eyebrows and cracked her knuckles. Kara tilted her head to the left. She cracked her neck and relaxed her posture. She waited for an explanation.

"He's compassionate and slow to anger abounding in love and faithfulness to thousands. He loves all people and he wants to give all people a chance to be saved. The guilty will go not go unpunished at the end of the age, whether their age or of this earth.

"How long must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, "Violence! But you do not save?"

Kara shook her head and tented her hands over her mouth.

"The answer? Praise the Lord. That was God's response. How it could be that simple? There had to be more. What do we have except to praise the Lord in a situation like this?"

Kat was silent. She stared; her mouth agape, quivering.

Kat scooted closer to Kara so she could put her hand on her.

Kara could feel the buttery crumbs on against her skin. It grossed Kara out but she maintained my composure.

Kat rocked side to side, cheek to cheek and held onto Kara. Kara, moved to tears, returned the embrace. They held. They comforted. They cried.

"You are with me, you are near me. I can feel you," Kara said.

Chapter Twenty-Four

"What did we learn from the motel," the chief asked Sanchez.

Sanchez rifled through paperwork on her desk and studied the clues.

"I've got some stills from the security camera. It's grainy, but we got a look at him and his car. We have a partial on his plates. Two digits. The county starts with 'f'."

"So it's four counties?"

"Five, but we're checking Effingham County for a match."

"Are we checking it against recently expired tags?"

"As far back as five years," Sanchez said. She handed some papers to the chief.

"What did we learn from the night auditor?"

"He did not see our guy. He said Krista knew what she was doing. She did not feel safe. She went in and told the clerk she would check out in a half hour. He's had hookers come in before so he did not require explanation.

"She seemed knew there was a security camera. She looked at it at one point. It was go the clue.

"I do not think she saw this coming."

The chief headed out of the room. He stopped in the doorway.

"We'll get him," the chief said. "He's made some mistakes and this plate is going to take us to him."

"Before another?" Sanchez asked.

"I hope," he said. He paused in silence, bowed his head, and walked out.

The phone rang.

"This is Sanchez."

"Hey, we've got ten possible matches on the plates on that car. Thirteen total, with cars that are close."

"Good job, Vu," Sanchez said, cracking a Mona Lisa smile.

"Just hope there were not any homemade Maaco jobs," Vu said. "I'm going to lunch. I'll bring these up and we can make these visits."

Chapter Twenty-Five

Krista's death caught up with Kara.

They had played basketball before. They got along on the court and it translated into a friendship off the court.

If they had not played together, they might not have otherwise been friends, Kara thought.

They were both attractive and got the attention of the boys at school. Their personalities were similar and created a clash, if they did not have basketball in common.

They had a lot of the same upbringing and similar interests, but Kara clung onto her upbringing but Krista bucked hers.

They were still friends.

They had shared great memories.

Kara could not take it anymore. It was bigger than she was. She could not breathe. The walls closed in on her. She had to get out of the house.

Kara's time with her mom helped settle her a bit. She could take so much of the same four walls.

Kara did not change her clothes. She put her shoes on and headed out towards US 78.

She figured it would be easier for Alex because she'd be in the general direction and on a main route.

By the time she crossed US 78, and arrived at Wal-Mart, she died of thirst, so she grabbed a twenty-ounce bottle of Dr. Pepper.

Independent, Kara went to the service desk for her purchase. She asked for a pack of Marlboro cigarettes.

She'd never smoked before. However, if she ever started, today would be the day.

The cashier asked for Kara's identification, which she expected. Kara reached into her pocket, pulled out a tri fold wallet, and slid out her ID.

"This says 'under 18' on it," the cashier said. She glared over her classes.

"Yes, it would say that, but I turned 18 today," Kara retorted. She diverted her eyes from the cashier, but like a possum in headlights, Kara fixed her eyes on the cashiers beard hairs.

"So this expired. You cannot use this," the cashier griped.

"I cannot use it to drive, but I'm not driving."

"You cannot use it for ID either."

"Can you positively ID that it's me?" Kara sniped.

"It looks like you," she said.

"So, it's me, yesterday, right?"

"Yes."

"And you can see that I'm the same person, today, right?"

"Yes, but it says, you're under 18."

"What is the birthday on there?"

"Why it says September 3rd, 1991," she exclaimed.

"So how old does that make me today?"

"Today is September 3rd 2009 so I guess 18."

"So I'm 18."

"Yes, but I do not know. Let me get a manager," she rolled her eyes and walked to a door along the back wall.

She disappeared and retrieved a manager.

Kara waited. Borderline frustrated, Kara did not react because she could see the dilemma she created. Kara rolled her eyes. She tapped her fingers on the shoulder high customer service desk.

The manager came out with the cashier. The cashier explained what was going on as if it was some kind of trick or something and she did not quite explain it right.

The manager took one look at Kara's purchase, glanced at her ID and at her.

The manager said, "Nancy, ring this young lady up, it's her birthday."

Kara could not help but smile. Nobody else had remembered her birthday, it meant something. Plus, this was the first thing she did since she became a legal adult and it made her proud.

"$3.59," the cashier whined.

"And the Dr. Pepper," Kara said. She pointed at her drink. A split second difference in history, and Kara would have handed her an Aaron Burr, but she settled for the Hamilton and took her change.

She walked out the doors and it hit her. She needed a lighter if she'd smoke anything. Kara went back and faced the same lady for a lighter. It was not hard like she expected, but Kara smiled.

Kara stepped outside of the store and squatted against the wall, twenty feet from the exit.

She did not know what to do with cigarettes because she never smoked and neither did her friends. She had seen people who smoked before, so she remembered what they did.

Kara smacked the bottom of the pack like it was a newborn baby. She furrowed her brow because she expected something magical but the pack did not seem any different.

She fumbled and fidgeted, peeled the plastic. It took some time and she figured it out. She popped the lid open and examined both ends of the cigarette. She stalled and thought she could conjure a second guess.

Kara did not second-guess herself. She grabbed the lighter and on the first try, lit the correct end of the cigarette.

Kara took her first puff. She made sure it was a small one because she had watched enough television and knew people who take a big first puff end up with a cough for the next twenty minutes.

Kara found out why. She scowled, like she had tasted a sour Atomic Warhead for the first time. It burned in her esophagus and then in her chest. If she had ever doubted where her lungs were, she did not anymore.

A cough arose. It was not a coughing fit, but it was a necessary cough.

The taste pleased her. She had always liked the smell. She took another puff. Her body did not object.

Breathe.

Kara smiled with merriment. Her body had conquered something else. Independent and defiant.

Defiance felt better than independence.

The world screamed at her, "You should not do it," but she did.

The world screwed her and left her to die. By smoking, she was gave the finger back to the world and told it to go screw itself.

She did this for everyone. She did this for all the girls who have ever been violated or abused.

For Krista Plum, she enjoyed the smoke.

For Kinzie Coole, she inhaled and held.

For Kaliyah Thompson, the smoke burned her esophagus.

For Tammy Stevens, she exhaled through her nostrils.

For Grace-Leigh Henderson, she repeated.

Even though Ashlyn Tanner and Emma Smart were not raped, they were targeted, and they got extra puffs because they survived.

The smoke welled inside her.

Greatness, she thought.

If it had a color, she would say it was jet black for the smoke, which filled her lungs, and for the darkness of the world and the trepidation, the world caused her.

"Screw you, World," Kara verbalized. She her last puff and extinguished the cigarette into the sidewalk.

Kara took out a second cigarette. She breathed it in deeper. It hurt, but not as bad as life. The satisfaction it gave outweighed the burn. She smiled the whole time she smoked her second cigarette.

Kara snubbed the second cigarette into the sidewalk and said, "I've conquered the world enough for one day."

She closed the pack, pushed herself up, and dusted her butt off. The pockets in on pants were too shallow for the cigarettes into them so she slid them into her pants, under the string that connected to her underwear's fabric to the thong in the back.

It slid in and made itself comfortable in her abs contour near the left oblique.

She felt sexy in her velour pajama bottoms, flip-flops, and spaghetti strap shirt. Her hair was a little sloppy in a ponytail. But, it completed her.

Sexy and comfortableness a necessity though it brought in the stares from all the dirty men who came out of Wal-Mart. All the men who came out of Wal-Mart were dirty. All men were dirty, she concluded.

Kara's cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and it was Alex.

He was not dirty.

"There went that hypothesis," she muttered.

She answered it on the second ring.

"Hello?" Kara said. She pretended like she did not know who was called.

"Hey, Kara, I'm at Hugh Howell Road. I got your message saying you were not home."

"Yeah, I'm not. I'm at Wal-Mart on 78. You take 78 until the highway nears its end and on the left, you'll see Wal-Mart. It's there, on the left hand side."

"Okay, I think I know where it's at."

"Yeah, it's across 78 from where we had pizza the other day."

"I'll be there in a little bit. Are you hanging out in there?"

"No, I already got what I wanted and I knew you'd call soon so I'm out front."

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay," Kara said.

Alex pulled up in his truck and Kara hopped in. They greeted each other and headed towards 78 westbound.

The silence was awkward, as if they felt each other out again.

Alex blazed his nostrils.

"Not to be accusatory, but why does it smell like cigarettes?"

"I smoked a cigarette," Kara said.

"Oh, I did not take you as a smoker."

"I'm not. Not before today."

"What makes you a smoker, today?"

"Today, I'm 18. Rebellion and independence is the flavor of the day. And because the whole world says not to, I did. I feel like the world screwed me over and I gave it back to the world.

"It feels great. I'm liberated."

"That sounds hot... and angry."

"Thanks and I am angry."

"So are you a chain smoker?"

"Nope. I may have had all I'll ever have. I feel sexy with the cigarettes stashed between my thong and my abs."

"That sounds sexy to me, but a little too much information."

"Says who? The world?"

"No, me."

Kara did not respond. They approached the gate to the Air Force Base.

"I've never been to one of these before," Kara said. She looked in all directions and observed the base.

"It won't be the last," he said with a smile.

The guard checked his White Common Access Card and checked out Kara. She was intimidated.

"She's with me," Alex said.

"If he treats you bad, come get me. I won't treat you bad," the guard said.

They laughed.

"You gonna take him if I treat him bad?" Kara said.

"Do not ask do not tell," he said. He bounced his eyebrows and waved them through.

Kara put her hands on the window, and stuck her head out like a little kid at a theme park for the first time.

Alex parked in a spot in front of his apartment building. The street was speckled with identical single-story beige house shaped buildings.

"I need to go get some workout shorts," Alex said. He stepped from his truck.

Kara followed him to his front door. He opened the storm door, fiddled with his keys, and unlocked the deadbolt.

Alex went inside but Kara remained on the patio and rested her arm on the doorframe. She waited for his return.

The storm door had closed and Kara could still hear Alex talk, but she could not hear his words. His voice got closer the storm door burst open and Kara jumped.

"Where'd you go?" he asked.

"Nowhere," Kara said. She stood straight and folded arms.

"You can come inside, you know," he said. He held his hand out and motioned like an usher.

"I guess I had not thought about it," Kara said.

Kara stepped over the threshold into his apartment and Alex followed. She took three steps and stopped. She placed her hand on her chin and waited.

"You can have a seat and I'll be back out and we can get to the class," he said. He waved towards his couch.

"This looks comfortable," Kara said. She hung her head and walked to an overstuffed leather sofa.

"You're kind of bashful, today."

"I do not know," Kara said. She plopped onto the couch. "This is a little awkward. I was always told not to go into a guy's house when his parents were not home. I take it your parents do not live here," Kara chortled at the absurdity.

"Certainly not. You do not have to be in here. I did not think about it."

"No, I'm fine," Kara said. She craned her neck and looked.

"Are you sure? I do not want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I am a country guy. More country than you realize."

"Doubt it," Kara laughed.

"I can be more country and more gentlemanly at the same time."

"You said it right, this time," Kara chided.

"Whatever, I'm getting ready," he said. He disappeared down a short hall.

"Who decorated in here?" Kara called out.

"Oh, that hurts. I did. Why?"

"Oh," Kara said. "It looks like it has a feminine touch."

"Okay, so my sister always comes after I get stationed somewhere new and decorates."

"All the base apartments are that different. Your came down and decorated?" Kara teased. She slouched, and the cushions caressed her.

"Hey," he said. He disappeared into the living room. "I do not have to take this, let's go."

Kara followed him out of the apartment and they walked to the base hanger. They made this a routine every Monday and Wednesday for a while and played basketball on an outdoor, lighted court until they could not play anymore.

Kara was better at basketball than he was and she beat him often. She thought he thought he let her win but she did not play to her fullest ability. She never broke a sweat the first night.

Alex tested Kara's talent but once he had, he turned up his game a little.

Kara taunted his poor ability. He played harder, but he was still no match.

She was faster than his defense so if he'd play close she'd blow past him.

If he'd play off, she'd shoot a jumper.

He was not that bad; Kara was better than he was.

Competitive, Kara enjoyed Alex's company. He distracted her and kept her mind from the rape.

He offered her a therapeutic distraction and she enjoyed the distraction.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The urge was strong. The next hit was eminent. It would not go away.

It was not about the past or the future. It was not about the present. It was about the next girl.

Pam Smart was unreachable. She was always on the move with for Channel 2. It was a guy who covered the Krista Plum story. Pam Smart covered storm damage in Snellville.

Its onset was a tingle in his pants. It was a flash in his mind but he could not see anything except the fulfillment of his needs. Who?

Krista Plum was his quick hit. With her gone, he did not have a good solution. He could do Kara again, but the risk was not worth it.

He went on the web and went to his favorite free, unverified, porn site. He watched two minutes of a video and relieved himself.

That worked. It always had. However, it was short lived. The deeper he got into it, the shorter the time between highs.

It cleared his mind. He flipped through the yearbooks and found an easy hit.

"Nobody would be as easy as Krista Plum," he said.

He slowed.

"What have we got here?" he said.

He got his scissors out and cut the picture out.

"Why had not I thought of her before?" Maximum impact, least amount of effort.

She put a face to his obsession.

He traced his finger around her black and white face.

"Gotta see her red hair," he said.

He made up his mind. He could not concentrate on anything else.

He went back to the web. His mind was foggy. Two more minutes.

He cleaned himself and got his kit. He was ready. If he caught her after school, he had to leave now.

He got to his car and drove north on I85.

"I could go to New York. There's got to be plenty of women there," he laughed.

Traffic was light for the time of day. He had a half an hour and he could meet her at the buses.

He got off at Exit 101 and went south. He turned right, passed Elite Hoops Basketball Camp, and then turned left into the school parking lot.

The busses pulled into the loading lane. He pulled alongside of them and ignored the signs, which restricted other vehicles.

A parked bus beeped and the driver hung out the window, and hollered something.

He cranked his window down and backed parallel to the bus.

"You cannot park there," the driver said.

"I'm surprising my girlfriend," he said. "Got back on military leave early. She does not know I'm here." He reached in his back seat and pulled out a camouflage hat. He flashed the hat at the driver.

"In the name of patriotism. But do not make a habit."

He waited next to the bus. He had a view of the door and could see people file in and out.

Two minutes.

A few students trickled out. A bulk of seniors emerged and there she was.

Freshly dyed, reddish brown hair. Long mocha legs. Knee length dark blue denim pencil skirt.

He rolled his car up two bus lengths.

She was on her phone. The closer she got, the more defined her voice sounded.

He tapped his horn twice. She focused on him. Her lips agape, she mouthed, "Let me call you back."

She walked around the nose of the bus and stopped. She squinted and moved her head side to side.

"Oh, hey!" she said. She smiled and waved.

"Hey! Long time, no see!" he said.

"Yeah, right," she said. She leaned into his window. "Why are you here?"

"Seeing who's around. Hey, you want to hang out?"

"It'd be fun. Kara was supposed to be my ride, she's missing school for a couple days so I have to ride the bus," Melanie said.

"I can drive you home. Where do you live?"

"You would?"

"Yeah no problem."

"Oh man, you're a lifesaver. I hate riding the bus. I live in Stone Mountain Village."

"In the shops?" he joked.

"Yeah, in the Christmas one," she laughed.

She lifted the handle.

"Oh, gotta unlock it," he said, he reached across the seat.

She opened the door and threw her backpack in the back seat and slid in, knees tight enough she could hold a dime.

He stared at her. She put on her seat belt.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, sorry. Where do you want to go?"

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. I know a place. It's a lesser known coffee shop."

The car rolled through the drive thru.

One caramel macchiato. One white, hot chocolate; extra hot.

"Thanks," Melanie said.

"No problem. There's this wooded lot near here where I like to hang out. It's pretty peaceful. I was thinkin' we could chill there."

"I would like that," Melanie said. She smiled then sipped on her hot chocolate.

The car slowed on the street and the left turn signal flashed. He rolled down an overgrown path. The all wheel independent suspension pushed up and down like a mountain lion, which scaled a rocky terrain.

"How'd you find this?" Melanie said. Her eyes darted back and forth at the trees and related plant life.

"It's Atlanta. There's places like this all over."

Grass gave way to a dirt patch and a bank rolled to a creek. The car came to a stop next to a tree, which drooped over the creek.

The couple got out and sat on the hood. Birds chirped. Chinchilla's scrambled.

"Oh, my," Melanie said. She nipped her hot chocolate.

"What's that?"

"There's poison oak on these trees. I get it and all I do is look at it."

"Should we leave?"

"No, it'll be fine. The first blotch and I'll get a cortisone shot and a dosage of steroids."

"That bad?"

Melanie nodded.

"This oasis is too nice to leave," she said.

She took another sip.

He set his hand on hers and took a sip.

Melanie looked at him, but he stared forward.

She wrapped her fingers around his.

He turned and caught her look. They're gaze was firm.

She leaned in; her mauve lips led the way. He reciprocated. Their lips locked.

The taste on her lips was white chocolate. It cradled in the center and front of his tongue. The smell of the red soil pierced his nostrils.

As one unit, they rolled in the dirt.

With one hand, he held her. With the other unbuttoned her blouse.

She chewed on his lip. Her eyes scrunched shut, her nose wrinkled. She yanked on his shirt and pulled it up. He raised his hands and she removed his shirt.

He reciprocated and removed her undershirt.

They bobbed back and forth. Her ribs' skin rubbed against his chest.

With the hand, which he held her, he unhitched her bra. The tension was released and Melanie lifted her head unlatched the kiss.

"We should not," she said.

"Come on, Melanie," he said. "You going to leave me blue balling here?"

"Sorry," she said. She pressed her hand against her bra and held it to her chest and she sat. "It's not the way we do things."

"Is stringing me on, the way you do things?" the Acolyte asked.

"We got caught in the moment," Melanie said.

He set his hand on her wrist and wrapped his fingers around her pencil thin bone.

Melanie retracted her arm, but his grip followed.

"What are you doing?"

"You want this, too!" he said.

"I do not!" she said through her teeth.

She pulled her hand and released from his grip.

"Take me home," she said. She stood up. She turned her back to him. She reached back and refastened her hooks.

"Okay, Kara" he said, as a hologram of Kara rested on Melanie's face.

Before Melanie could get the first one hooked, his hands gripped her biceps.

"What's going on?" Melanie asked, confused.

"Just do this. It'll make things better," he said, his voice shook.

"No!" she said.

He pushed Melanie into the hood car belly down, like a cop who busted a drug dealer. He pulled the box cutter out, and flashed it.

"No!" she said, tears like dewdrops.

"I'll cut you, if you do not shut up," he said, through his teeth.

Melanie cried. Her teeth chattered and her body trembled.

"Commercium Admirabile," he said. "All is now ready." He lifted her skirt.

Quick, he was done.

"Dammit," he said. He looked down and shook his head. "I forgot protection. I'm sorry, Melanie."

Melanie responded with grunts and tears.

He shuffled through his pockets. Panic.

Melanie faced him. Her mascara dripped.

She bent and grabbed her undershirt.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm done," she said.

He tackled her to the ground.

Melanie screamed.

The Acolyte manhandled her and pinned her down.

Melanie rocked back and forth. She twisted her arms and flailed her legs.

He straddled Melanie and he held her wrists in one hand. He searched and grabbed at the ground. He grabbed a rock and smashed Melanie's face. He offered three quick blows and then he freed her arms.

Melanie's hands fell limp to the ground. Pools of blood seeped to the surface. Raw flesh dotted her face. Her eyes closed. Her chest was motionless.

He backed off and dropped the rock. The Acolyte reached in his pocket, pulled out a clerical collar, and set it on Melanie's chest.

He could do her as if he did Krista, he thought. He lifted Melanie's skirt. He pressed in, his body covered her.

Crack.

"What?" he said.

Melanie's hand retreated. She crab crawled away. Her right eye was swollen, her teeth gnashed.

He pounced towards her. On cue, her foot met him below the belt. Like a euthanized horse, he crashed to the ground, his eyes crossed.

Melanie rolled to her belly and rushed to her feet. She took her first step, fell hard to the ground, and knocked the wind out of her.

He had her foot, but he shut his eyes in pain.

He grunted and pulled her towards him.

Melanie dug her fingers into the clay. She swung her free leg and struck him in the face and then she cocked back and thumped him in the nose.

His head snapped back. His nose gushed red; iron and platelets and hemoglobin. His body tottered and he fell back.

She looked at him and took a deep breath. She stood to her feet. Melanie hesitated. She took a step towards him.

"Whoa," she said. She grabbed her head. Blood.

Melanie turned and ran. The clerical tab slid down her skin and floated to the clay. The clay disappeared to low greenery. She tripped over kudzu vines and sprawled to the ground.

She looked. She stood and she could not see him. Careful, Melanie sprinted on, head with an occasional glance upward.

"Come on," she said with the sight of more woods.

A clearing. Relief.

Melanie buoyed. Like a mirage, the clearing eluded her.

She reached it.

The woods emptied into a back yard.

Melanie jogged to the sliding glass door. Open palm, she pounded the door and switched to closed fist.

"Empty," she said, she puffed. She looked over her shoulder. He had not followed.

She ran to the next house and pounded on the back door.

"What the hell?" the sun burnt man said. He opened the door. "Oh, my," he said. Melanie's face filled his vision.

"Help," Melanie said. She gasped for each sound of each letter in help. She fell into his arms and slid further to the floor.

The man cradled her and carried her to his sofa.

He grabbed his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"This is Officer Strauss. Get me a bus to 5155 Brittany Drive.

"It's my house.

"She's beat up pretty good. Lots of blood loss."

He leaned over and listened for her breath.

"She's breathing. Okay, thanks."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After self defense and basketball, Kara and Alex returned to his house. They arrived and Alex took his shirt off; his Air Force Strong muscles dominated his chest.

Kara looked forward but watched his abs and oblique muscles flex and stretch with every motion.

"I'll be out in a minute," he said. He disappeared into the bathroom.

Kara fell into the couch and fiddled around. She examined each remove and figured out which one of the five remotes was for the TV. She flipped through the channels. She stopped on a movie on Lifetime, but she was not a Lifetime girl and she did not want Alex to think she was. She surfed the channels more.

"Early edition of Sports Center," she whispered.

Kara clicked more.

"What the heck," she muttered aloud, "Sports Center is my softer

side," she scrolled back to ESPN.

Sports Center ended by the time Alex came back out. He was dressed in carpenter jeans and a Hanes, non-bacon neck, undershirt.

Kara giggled. "Oh, you did not have to dress up for me."

He stopped and stared. Alex was slack jaw. His mouth moved, but the words never came.

Kara had a sheepish smile. She glanced at him, but kept her focus on Sports Center.

"Move over," he said. He squeezed himself between Kara and the arm of the sofa.

"You could not sit on the other side?" she motioned. "There's a whole lot of real estate over there."

"Nope," he said, as he rested one arm on the arm of the sofa and one arm on the back of the sofa, over Kara's head.

"Why not?"

"This is my seat. It sits centered on the TV and it's equidistant from all of the surround sound speakers." He whirled his finger around the room. Kara took note of the seven speakers and the subwoofer.

"I spent hours setting this up and years getting all the right pieces. I do not think I will ever get my dream car, but I have my dream entertainment system."

"What's your dream car," Kara said.

"Lamborghini Diablo. What's yours? Prius?"

"No! Dodge Viper."

"Ou, you're not a sissy girl," he said.

Kara's jaw dropped, and then she laughed. "I beat you at basketball, not in a sis-a-fied manner, either."

Other than Sports Center, silence permeated the air.

"We've perfected this silence stuff," Kara said. She fixed her gaze on the television.

"Yes we have."

"Want something to eat?" Alex asked.

"Thought you'd never ask."

"I have leftover Chinese, or I have to cook something."

"I vote Chinese."

"You vote communist."

"I vote Chinese."

"Chinese vote communist so you vote communist."

"I'm hungry. Bring me some food," she said.

"Okay," he said. He chuckled. He dislodged himself from between the arm and Kara and he walked into the kitchen, a shotgun discharge away from the front door. He opened the fridge. He grabbed three carry out containers of Chinese takeout, and pulled them to his chest. He reached and grabbed a fourth. He left the door open, brought the tubs, and dropped them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Kara crossed her legs, folded her hands over her lap, and smiled. Her cheeks flushed and her heart heated and tingled.

Dammit. I'm falling for him. Hard.

"Want something to drink?" Alex asked

"What do you have?" she asked.

"I'm havin' a Rolling Rock, you want one?"

"I'm 18."

"So are ninety percent of all the boys here and they all drink. If ya'ant one it's up to you."

"What about the girls?"

"Them too."

"Sure, I'll have one. I cannot promise I'll like it."

"You liked smoking and you never smoked before today and I'm pretty sure that's more of an acquired taste than this."

Alex brought three bottles with him: two bottles of beer and one soy sauce. He donkey kicked the fridge door shut and retrieved two forks from drawer.

He set the bottles and utensils down and prayed over the food.

"Amen," Alex said. He twisted the top off of Kara's beer.

"Amen," Kara said. She took her bottle from Alex and set in on the coffee table.

Kara grabbed a carton and opened it and Alex watched.

Kara stirred the content. She looked at Alex and he was not engaged in the meal. He looked at her and smiled.

"What? Did I forget something?" Kara asked.

"I was waiting for you to taste the beer."

"For what?"

"To see if you liked it."

Kara smiled at him, set her carton down, and grabbed the brown bottle. She put it to her lips and puckered for a sip.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kara watched Alex' smile grow. She pulled the bottle back and held it over her lap.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "You did not taste it."

"I cannot take the pressure," she said, her face stoic.

"I'm not pressuring you."

"I've never had anybody stare at me when I drank anything else. I'm not used to it," she said.

"That's because all you drink is Dr. Pepper. Here, I'll cover my eyes," Alex said.

"I'll laugh," Kara said. "It will come out my nose and I won't like it."

"Just do it," he said.

"The peer pressure," she snickered. "Okay."

Kara lifted the bottle to her mouth. She stuck her upper lip into the spout and rested the stem on her lower lip.

Alex watched.

Kara glanced at him sideways and giggled. She yanked the bottle from her mouth. The beer dripped from her mouth and she caught it with her other hand.

"Did you taste it?" Alex asked.

"No, I was laughing."

"Jeepers," he said.

"I'm trying again," she said. "Breathe. Breathe. Push," she said and fell into laughter.

"What?" he said.

"Lamaze."

"Right."

"I got it this time," she said. She drew the bottle to her mouth.

Kara took her first sip and Alex looked on.

It tingled the middle of her tongue. The taste moved to the back of her tongue, licked the middle, and moved to the edge.

"Good," Kara said and she raised her eyebrows. "It's not a shock to the system like the cigarettes were. I do not want to cough or puke and it does not burn."

"There are drinks that burn, but different," Alex said.

Alex held his bottle out, and they clicked necks feasted. They chowed on the food and watched the rest of Sports Center.

Sports Center ended. They both kicked back and Alex clicked through the channels.

Kara slouched towards Alex and his body heat emanate to hers. She hesitated, unsure of any body contact.

Alex sat like a guy, feet spread apart and slouched far on the couch, beer on one hand, remote in the other. He did not lean towards or away from Kara, but aware of Kara's eminent presence.

Acolyte, she thought. Her heart blistered with rejection.

"Three hundred-fifty channels of nothing but bad news on," he sang to her, his posture steadfast.

Like instinct, Kara giggled.

"Let's watch a movie," he said.

"Why do not we dance," she pushed out bass the best she could.

"We could," he said.

"We should not," Kara said. She slouched into the couch.

"It was your idea."

"I was singing a song. Let's watch a movie. What do you have?"

Alex stood and set his empty bottle on the table. "'Nother one?" he asked.

"Sure," Kara said.

He went back to the fridge and grabbed two more bottles. He rifled through a kitchen cabinet. He dropped a package of microwave popcorn onto the counter top. He placed the bottles on the counter, bit, and the plastic around the popcorn and tore it off.

He left the wrapper on the counter. He put the bag of popcorn in the microwave and pushed a single button. He came in and placed both unopened bottles on the coffee table. He shuffled through a cabinet on his entertainment center.

"War movies. That's all I have. Comedy? 'A Walk to Remember'?"

Kara's thumb fingernail was between her teeth. She smiled and raised her eyebrows.

"What?" he said.

"I think you know the answer."

"'A Walk to Remember' it is," he said. He raised his hands like a boxer declared champion.

Alex scanned the room for the remote.

"What are you looking for?" Kara asked.

"Remote," he said.

"Here, where you left it," she said. She held it up. "You know Comcast has an app now r phone. You can change the channel, bring up the guide menu, and pull up the on demand content."

"You work for Comcast or something?"

"No. I called in once to order HBO for a documentary. The guy who put HBO on for me told me about it. I never forgot it."

He took it and pushed one button, HDMI flashed on off in a little box on the screen, and "no signal" bounced around the screen.

He turned on the Blu-Ray player and popped in the disc. He turned the receiver on and switched it to the DVD setting. His apartment filled with better than theater quality sound. He bounced into the kitchen and grabbed the bag of artificial butter popcorn.

He shut off all the lights except the one over the kitchen sink.

"Do you watch the previews?" he asked. He waved the remote around. Kara's ponytail shook and he pushed a button and took it to the menu.

Alex peeled the bag open and the smell of pseudo butter permeated similar to the sound of the open of the movie. Steam poured out of the bag and the movie opened.

Alex reached his hand into the bag and popped three kernels into his mouth. He tipped the bag towards Kara.

She obliged and scooted closer to him. She reached her hand into the bag and grabbed a handful of popcorn popped one at a time.

Kara ate a handful of popcorn. She wiped her hand off on her pants and leaned forward. She grabbed both bottles of beer off the table. She handed one to Alex and twisted the top off of her own.

Alex watched her struggle.

"Can I help you with that?" he said. He offered his hands and helped.

"Naw, my hands are a little slick from the butter," Kara contested. She held the bottle between her legs and wiped her hands.

This time, with a little more determination, Kara twisted again, but with no success. She held it up and said, "I give up. Here"

With little effort, he twisted the top off.

Kara said what was expected. "I loosened it. I gotta pee."

Kara ran to the bathroom. She reappeared and retained her seat. She grabbed her beer on the way.

Kara rocked back in her seat, closer to Alex. His warmth emanated but the touch did not do it. She could feel his touch.

The gravity between their fleshes pulled.

Kara pushed her shoes onto the floor and tucked her feet under her bottom. She adjusted and bumped him but acted as if she did not.

Kara took a swig like one she had seen on TV. She held the bottle and reached across her body with her left hand and then across his body. She grabbed a fist full of popcorn, pressed herself against his side, and sat back.

Like a cat, she squirmed and maneuvered. She lowered herself and rested her head on his shoulder.

She sighed.

He froze and did not move, not even for a sip.

She did not have a plan, based on the different variables his reactions could have been.

Mandy Moore was on stage. She sang about a something in her heart.

The moment struck Kara and her emotions were elevated. The girl she was, Kara cried silent tears.

She was same girl who gave the proverbial finger to the world and conquered all expectations.

Kara straightened and made sure Alex could not feel her cries...

"She has such a beautiful voice," Kara said. She wiped her eyes with her index fingers.

"Yeah," he said.

"I have a question." Kara said.

Alex stopped breathing.

Kara took a breath. She looked at him.

Alex looked back.

"I was wondering," she said.

"Yes?" Alex said.

"Patience. I'm thinking how to say this," she said.

Alex lounged back, watched the TV, and took another swallow of ale.

"In two weeks, a friend of mine is singing an operatic solo at The Strand. She's being accompanied on a grand piano by Magdalena Muellen and on violin by Karin Mueller. It's go a beautiful night: a black tie affair," Kara said. She sat back and took in the moment with him. She crinkled her little nose and pled with him, "and I want you to be my date."

He exhaled and nipped in his beer before he looked at Kara. "It's a formal thing?"

"Black tie! And I'm wearing a red evening gown. It is so beautiful you have to see it to believe it. I was so excited when my friend said she was going to sing, I bought my dress the next day. It was back in April or something."

"So like prom clothes."

"I guess. Formal."

"Who is she? Why is she singing? Should I know the other two girls?"

"She's my lifelong friend. She goes to one of those magnet schools and studies the arts. She is good and it's go like when scouts come to basketball games. I think they call them something else. But... It is a big deal. I am excited to go and I want you to be there with me."

Alex took another swig. "It's not what I thought you were going to say, but I'll be there."

"Good," Kara said. "Wait. What?"

"Huh?" Alex said.

"You thought I was going to say something else?"

"I guess I was hoping you were going to say something else."

"You were hoping?"

"It's nothing," he said.

"You're blushing. That's not nothing." Kara said.

"It's hot in here. I've had two beers. I might need two more," he said. He squired in his seat.

"You lush," she said.

"No. It would help me forget."

Kara beamed. "Tell me."

"I thought you were going to ask if I liked you."

"Do you?"

"That was not your question."

"It is now!" she said. A glisten of perspiration trickled down her armpit and glossed her rib cage.

Alex looked at her. He studied her smile.

"Do you want me to get a tux or do you want me to wear my Air Force Blues?"

"Eh, I want you more like James Bond than an Air Man. You'd feel awkward outside of a tux."

"Okay. Just checking."

The movie played on.

"You cannot avoid my question forever," Kara said.

"It's not forever, yet," Alex said.

Kara smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. She nuzzled her ear into his shirt's fabric.

Alex' fingers tingled. They fidgeted. He could put his arm around her shoulder, he thought. He abstained.

Mandy Moore stood in two places at one time and a tear trickled from Kara's eye. She sniffled and wiped her nose.

Perfect opportunity. Alex moved his arm and rested it on Kara's shoulder.

Kara stood. "I have to pee," she said. She disappeared down the small hall into the bathroom.

Kara positioned herself on the toilet, her pants around her waist. She covered her face in her hands and breathed.

"Come on, Kara," she said, soft spoken.

Kara lowered her hands and wrapped them around her waist. She looked away, brought her left hand to her mouth, and bit her fingernail.

She stood, turned, and faced the toilet.

Kara spun the roll of toilet paper.

Pause.

She spun it again.

Pause.

Kara lifted the seats an inch and a half and dropped them. She flushed the clean water, took a couple of seconds, and washed her hands.

She faced the door and hung her hands down. She inhaled deep, puckered up, and blew.

Kara opened the door and went back to the couch. She glanced, a smile spanned Alex's face, and her eyes followed to his out stretched arm and sat beyond the tips his fingertips.

Alex sighed and pressed play.

"You did not have to pause it," Kara said. She pulled her feet up and angled her body towards Alex.

"It's fine," he said. He fixed his eyes on the television. His heart sank into the bottom of his belly.

Kara lasted forty-five seconds. She crawled across the couch and resumed her spot under his arm.

"Glad you're back," he said, into Kara's hair.

"I missed your touch," Kara said. She placed her hand upon his chest.

Kara's breaths were shaky but it was rhythmic. Her ears tingled and noticed her breath was in time with Alex' breath.

The movie ended. The screen darkened. The credits rolled. The music played.

Alex changed the channel to a country music station.

"My back is aching sitting like this," Kara said.

"You want to change?" Alex asked.

Kara nodded. "Lay down and I'll lie next to you," she said.

Kara stood and Alex slithered to his back. She straddled him and laid her head on his chest.

"I can hear your heart," Kara said.

"What's it saying," Alex said.

"Do not know."

Kara tucked her arms: smooshed between her chest and his. He laid one hand across her shoulder blades and the other rested on the small of her back. His fingers dribbled on her body.

Like koalas, both were tranquil.

"I like you," Kara said.

"You do?" Alex asked.

"Yeah. I do not like much of anybody right now. I like my mom and my sister and my friend Melanie and my friend who we are going to see at The Strand. And you. That's it."

"Oh, so you like me like a brother or something."

"I do not think so. I do not know." She quieted and listened to his heartbeat. Her head rode his chest like a person who rode a tube on Lake Lanier.

Alex sighed.

Kara lifted her head, looked him in the eyeballs, and said, "It's different. I think it's a crush but I'm not sure."

"Oh," he said, unfazed.

"Alex, I feel safe with you. I like my mom and I like my sister and I like my friends, but they do not make me feel safe. I feel safety with you. I want to feel safe and I have safety, comfort, and peace, with you."

"I am a gun wielding southerner," he said. He poured on the accent.

"Shh..." Kara said. She wagged her finger over her lips.

Alex stared at the ceiling in wonder.

Kara pressed her ear against his chest; his breath soothed her.

Kara breathed. She did not have the will to do it herself. What comfort, she thought. But what of him and the situation. It seemed right. It seemed wrong. A citrus based cologne tantalized Kara's nose. She recognized it, but could not remember from where.

Alex fondled the scruff of Kara's neck and tangled his fingers in her hair's tufts.

Kara's phone rang.

"Sorry," Kara said.

Alex released his embrace and Kara fumbled to her feet.

"It's Rachel," she said.

Kara put the phone to her ear and pushed talk, and said, "Hello?"

"Kara," Rachel said.

"Hi."

"Where are you? We are all worried sick."

"I'm fine. I'm with Alex at the base. What's going on?"

"He did it again. On the description, we thought it was you. Everybody is in a panic. You should come home."

"Okay, see you soon."

"Bye."

Alex stared at Kara and prayed she would speak.

Kara lay down. He hesitated and held her again.

Kara's skin crawled, like a Tarantula. She sprung up in one motion, wiped her legs, and rid herself of the spider.

"It's my phone," Alex said. He stretched and made himself upright. He reached into his pocket.

"We have to go," Kara said. "It happened again. We do not know who, but my family thought it was me, again. They are freaking out. We have to go," she said. She slid to her feet into her shoes. She hopped towards the door.

Alex checked his phone put it back in his pocket. "Text message," he said.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The road home seemed long. The traffic was minimal. Alex checked on Kara several times, but she stared out the window. Her stomach turned and her mind rambled.

Kara arrived back home. She and Alex went in, and Detective Sanchez waited with her parents. The sight of Detective Sanchez knotted her stomach. Her throat closed in on itself.

The grave look on her mom's face and her dad would not make eye contact was proof enough he had bad news. Alex stood behind Kara, pressed in. His presence let Kara know he was.

"Kara," Detective Sanchez said, "would you like to have a seat?"

"No. No I'll stand," she stuttered. She pulled her fisted hands over her mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Kara," Detective Sanchez said. "Mel..."

"No!" Kara screamed. "No!" Kara cried out. She brought her hands to her temples and pulled her hair by her temples. Her body heaved forward but Alex' strong arms gripped her and sustained her. Kara twisted and pounded her fists into Alex's chest. He stroked her hair, but he did not have say anything. He squeezed and she soaked his shirt with tears.

"Is she dead?" Kara asked, into Alex's chest.

"No," Detective Sanchez said, "But it's not looking good. She's pretty beat up. She's in ICU at Grady. It's a miracle she made it this far. The first few hours are critical. If she survives the night, her chances are much better."

Kara's world spun out of control. The room seemed like it had not stopped moving since she got there. The world crumbled around her. There was not anybody who was not affected by this, she thought with her face still buried in Alex chest.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It was the big day for the concerto at The Strand.

Alex waited downstairs.

Kara bounced around and tried this piece of jewelry with her dress and that piece of jewelry and tied it with her other accessories. She ran to Rachel's room. She pieced through her jewelry.

"Here," Rachel said. She reached for a box from the other side of her vanity. "This was Grandma Rae's."

Rachel held it. It was a gold palladium necklace. It donned a diamond pendant with a brilliant sparkle. The sparkle hurt her eyes as she beheld it.

"Oh, it's beautiful. She gave this to you? I would love to wear this," Kara said.

"It's yours. Uh. For the night," Rachel said.

"Thank you," Kara said. She leaned and gave her a stiff, formal dress, full frontal hug.

Rachel flicked her fingers and gestured in a spinning motion. Kara turned around and Rachel reached up and put the jewelry around Kara's neck. Kara looked in the mirror and Rachel leaned in for a peak.

"Wow, it looks good on you," Rachel said. "Like that time we went camping in Montana. The night sky."

"I'm speechless," Kara said. "Gramma Rae's necklace... Wow. You'll have trouble getting it back from me."

"The necklace? I'm talking about the whole thing," Rachel said. "I do not know what to look at. I can look at aspects of you and it's beautiful but, I look at the whole you and I cannot take it all in."

The girls made eye contact through the mirror. They faced each other and giggled.

"We gotta get your shoes," Rachel said with her brow furrowed. She set her hands on Kara's bare shoulders.

They scampered back into Kara's bedroom. Kara slid both her feet into silver shoes. They glistened in the light and Rachel strapped them on. Kara walked to the full length mirror for one last look and then she descended downstairs.

"Incredible," Kara said. "It's the first time I've felt beautiful in weeks. I have goose bumps thinking about it and I'm not conceited. I promise."

"It's not conceit if you back it up. You're beautiful," Rachel said.

"I'm glad I've got waterproof mascara," Kara said. She dabbed her eyes of the tears of pain and Kara erupted in a flash flood.

"Here," Rachel said she held out a Kleenex.

Kara patted her eyes and nostrils.

"This is real bad," Kara said. She tittered.

Rachel lowered one eyebrow.

"I feel so beautiful today. Wait until I get married someday. The waterworks will be ridiculous."

"Be in tonight," Rachel said. She placed her hands on her sister's shoulders. "You're beautiful! You're going to a nice dinner with Alex and you're going to the performance at the Strand. Be in the night. Soak it up." She stepped on her tippy toes, hugged her, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

Rachel led Kara out to the hallway by the hand. She motioned for Kara to stay and she bounded down the steps. "Hear ye, Hear ye, the most elegant, the noblest, the most honorable, Kara Foster." She traipsed down the steps and made way to the grand entrance.

With poise, Kara emerged and descended the steps. She got to where she saw Alex.

He looked wonderstruck, like a boy on his way to prom who had never seen a grown woman; like a groom on his shotgun wedding day, except it was neither, Kara thought.

He stood at the landing, with a fresh 'high and tight' Marine haircut. He compromised and wore a tuxedo shirt with a navy blue bowtie. The rest was his Air Force Blues with all his medals and ribbons and shoes shined so well, his Air Force comrades would have said, "Those are hot!"

Steeped in grandeur, Kara graced the house. Clothed in unrivaled beauty, the thin straps held her dress like a cloud that blanketed a mountaintop. A "V" swooped and cascaded to the small of her back and another plunged deeply below her exquisite supple sided breasts which made an extended appearance. The intricate detail anchored her dress with a ruche effect on the beaded bodice. The deep V-shapes and the front side slit left little for imagination. She dazzled in her blood red mermaid cut gown.

"Stunning, Miss Foster," Alex nearly whispered and he raised his hand and met Kara's.

"Gentlemanry," Kara said, pleased. "Handsome." She beamed.

Alex reached in his pocket and pulled out a jewelry box. He popped it open and revealed a six-loop, diamond studded, platinum bracelet.

"You did not have to," Kara said.

Flash photography went off. Kat snapped photos with her digital Canon EOS.

"I'm not sure how to get this on," he said. He blushed.

Kara, bedazzled, took it from him, slipped her hand into it, and slid it onto her wrist.

"Perfect," she said. She stepped in close proximity to Alex, but they did not touch.

Alex' skin tingled. The vibrations emitted from Kara's skin. He took Kara's hands into his. Her eyes met his behind the veil of her dangling curled bangs.

With four-inch heels and some platform, her waist came four inches lower than his did. Her up-do towered, with all s pearl tipped pins and eighth of an inch ribbon, put her to his height.

They gazed into each other's eyes in curious fascination. In Kara's mind, it was like a seedy romance novel. It lasted one breathtaking minute concurrent to the next.

"It's four thirty," Rachel said. She looked at her watch-less wrist, "your reservation is at five oh five. You kids get going and have a good night."

John stood at four o'clock. Kat situated to his right, looked at his real watch on his wrist and said, "No later than ten thirty."

"Dad!" Kara said. She gave him a frown and flashed a plea to her mother.

"Midnight," Kat said.

Kara turned and kissed her dad on the cheek. She gave her mom a classy one-kiss-per-cheek kiss with both her hands on Kat's shoulders.

Kara rotated back to Alex.

"Shall we?" Alex said. He reached his hand out.

Kara curtsied and offered her hand. Alex bowed his head. Alex took her hand, and led her to the front door. He opened the door and flash photography resumed.

"Where's your truck?" Kara questioned.

"I rented a Challenger for tonight. It has a sun roof but the sun roof can wait until the ride home."

A shiny new orange Challenger with black accents color blasted the driveway.

"I'm in love," Kara said. She ogled over the car.

"I prayed those words would come out tonight," he said, but Kara's glare stopped in his track. "About the car. It was in reference to the car."

Like a chauffeur, Alex walked Kara to the passenger door and opened it. He escorted her into the seat and waited until she situated herself. He closed the door, cautious he would not catch a piece of her clothing.

"Smells brand new," Kara said.

Alex ducked into the car.

Kara looked and said, "Look at my cute family, standin' on the porch, seeing me off."

"Can you see if my sun glasses are there in the glove box?" he asked.

Kara opened the glove box like a blonde, but hesitated and said, "Why would you have sunglasses in the..." then she saw a card with 'Kara' written in modern calligraphy.

"Why is there a card with my name on it?" she asked.

"Open it, Silly," Alex said.

Kara raised her eyebrows. She kept one eye on him and one eye on the envelope. She looked at the envelope. She raised her eyes and her family was still there with huge smiles on their faces.

Kara read the front of the card.

It was funny and sentimental. She flipped it open and read a piece of paper. The paper had been printed like a check.

She ignored the paper. Kara read the rest of the card and saw it was a birthday card from her family. She opened what looked like a check and saw it was a title for an orange 2010 Challenger with "Kara Foster" as the owner.

"How?" she said. She was confused. She looked at Alex. Her lip hung down.

He pointed at the porch.

Kara screamed. The sophisticated girl lost her composure if for a moment.

Kara's reaction was blatant and they scurried down the drive.

Kara popped the door open. Once, then twice she rocked and on the third try, she made a successful attempt and got out. Kara threw her arms up and reached around her family.

"How?"

"It's your eighteenth birthday present," John said and beamed from ear to ear.

"I thought. Wait. My birthday was like two weeks ago already."

"I knew you wanted one and your mother said you wanted the orange one with black trim. I thought I could see Jim at the Chevy dealer and pick one up that day, but we hunted for it and found it. We got it, signed, and paid for, but they held it on their lot until today and Alex and I had this set up for him to get it, today."

Kara bent in half and looked back in the car, "You were in on this?"

He poked his thumbs up and shrugged his shoulders.

Kara stood straightened herself and poked her dad in the chest, "You better be awake when I get home, Mister. I've got some questions."

"I'm your father. It's a date night. I'll be awake and have some questions, Little Miss."

"All right," Kara said. She smiled and ducked back into the car.

"Hurry up," Alex teased, "I want to drive this thing again."

"I should be driving," Kara said, with a half mortified look on her face, "so you better enjoy this moment 'cause it ain't happening again."

They backed out of the driveway. The engine gurgled a throaty sound. Kara's family looked on. Rachel waved and turned sideways and blew a kiss.

Alex punched the accelerator and peeled down the street. The high society couple headed out to the Stone Mountain Expressway, and drove toward Atlanta.

They had not quite reached the skyline. They got off the expressway at one of the Peachtree Streets.

They drove a little ways north of the freeway and passed Georgia Tech. The car crawled to the Silk Restaurant. The valet let Kara out and parked the car.

The ambiance was intimate. The light was soft. A violin sang in the background.

Kara and Alex choose seats on the same side of a round table, close, like a married couple who shared a treasured dinner date.

Kara's skin took delight in the attention Alex' eyes gave it.

Her heart blazed against her chest. They talked in soft tones to each other. They filled her wine glass with the finest Dr. Pepper and his they filled with red wine.

Alex ordered a Miso Garlic Glaze, Filet Mignon, with wasabi, mashed potatoes. Kara ordered the Surf and Turf. The turf was a Filet, with Southeastern Asian Spices, plated with a five-ounce lobster tail.

"Did you see Melanie, today?" Alex asked. He ate his potatoes.

"She's good. They'll send her home tomorrow," she said. She sipped her Dr. Pepper.

Kara looked and continued, "She does not remember anything from that day. She remembers class, but not anything after she left."

"Is she ever going to remember?" Alex asked.

"They've got her doing therapy to help her remember, but there's a lot to deal with. There's the memory loss due to the head injuries and everything else is repressed by the trauma. They do not know what she'll remember, if she does remember anything."

"That's tough. I mean, it could be good for her, but tough for the case."

Kara nodded.

"How are you doing?" Alex asked. He leaned in and looked into her eyes.

"Things are starting to feel normal again. It seems like a distant memory that may or may not have happened to me."

The couple continued their meal.

Kara's eyes met Alex' eyes.

"What?" Kara said.

"I cannot get over how beautiful you look tonight."

Kara giggled.

"I never did answer your question the night we watched 'A Walk to Remember'," Alex said.

"Remind me," Kara said.

"I like you," Alex said.

Kara reached her hand into the sky with two fingers poked higher. "Yeah, can I get a dessert menu?" Kara asked the server.

"Sure thing," the waitress obliged.

"That's it?" Alex said. The waitress sauntered away.

"Nope. I already told you I liked you and I figured you liked me since you keep seeing me," Kara said.

Kara reached across the table and took both of Alex hands into hers. "I trust you. I feel safe with you. So, yes, I still like you too."

Alex smiled and turned his face away.

"Are you blushing? You're not allowed to blush Airman. Where is your military bearing?"

"I lose all sense of bearing, Sergeant," he said with a military bearing straight face. "You're blushing?"

"You're full of all kinds of kind words tonight," Kara smiled.

They had finished dinner and they left, hand in hand, fingers intertwined, like lovers not like friends.

Alex followed the signs to I 75 and they drove north, past the Air Force Base and to the heart of the Marietta Square, to the Earl Smith Strand.

It was a red carpet affair. Large black polymer kettles of spotlights framed either end of the marble face of the building. Clear round bulbs, in rows, dotted, in eye shaped patterns, the underside of the porte cochere of The Strand and lit the walk.

Alex pulled up and a valet driver opened the door and lifted Kara to her feet. He ran around the car and opened the door for Alex. The valet stepped back like a soldier in Scotland Yard.

Alex cleared the back of the car, and neared Kara. The driver got into the car and pulled it forward into the premier parking.

Arms entangled, a synchronized gait; they graced the walkway through the doors into the grande foyeur.

They separated for a moment and went to the bathroom. They met again, by the entrance, into the hall. Alex and Kara stopped and stared at the massive portraits of stars that filled the two-story foyer area.

The lower level was white with pillars of yellow. The yellow plaster continued and overtook the second floor, except where intricate frames surrounded black and white pictures of more stars from yesteryear. Massive gold chandeliers lit the front of The Strand. Coppertone rod iron rails framed in the stairs from the lower landing, up and around the whole open side of the mezzanine.

They walked up the staircase, to the mezzanine, and examined each piece of art they passed by. Their seats faced the back of the hall, in the balcony, in an inside row.

"Fred Astaire was in the first film which debuted here," Kara said, in reverence of the seventy-four year old building. "I want to see 'Role Models: A Fashion Show' when it's here next month. It looks so good."

Alex seemed uninterested in 'Role Models' but Kara smiled. She kept her eye on him but he took in the architecture.

The pipe organ played a prelude. Kara and Alex looked on. People filed in the lower level the mezzanine level.

The lights lowered and he introduced himself as the conductor, and announced the performers. The whole orchestra did a piece. The middle aged, shorthaired, woman in man's pants, read a story.

The sounds astounded with nothing lost in the acoustics. The sounds and the visuals captivated Kara's attention. On occasion, the music drew Alex in more so than it did Kara.

The main feature of the night was Kara's friend, with her operatic solo, accompanied by world renowned Karin Mueller, the violinist, and world renowned Magdalena Muellen, the pianist.

The literary piece was finished. The conductor turned and took his bow. He introduced the main feature and quiet filled the Strand.

Then, Magdalena appeared in a doorway on the side of the stage, outside of the spotlight. She stood with poise. She donned a black evening gown with green undertones shimmering through.

She waited for the completion of introductions and fluttered her fingers, like she typed in the air. The introduction completed and she greeted the spotlight. She waved like a Miss America contestant. She sat on the piano bench, hunched like Schroeder from Charlie Brown. She still wiggled her fingers and loosened them.

Karin appeared at the same door. She was dressed in a black strapless gown and she awaited her introduction. Once she received her introduction, she followed the same modus Magdalena did and waved like a foreign dignitary. She grabbed her violin, and clutched it under her chin.

Both women warmed up and tuned their instruments in a playful duel, but Kara saw her friend nowhere. They played so well the audience lost the one whom they waited for. The conductor smiled. He looked over his shoulder at the instrumentalists.

Silence came. He thanked them, followed by dimmed lights.

Silence carried. Somebody coughed. Karin began with an intro to "Over the Rainbow". Pause. Two more people coughed in different parts of the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen: Natalia Tsukerman!"

Applause. Silence. Pitch Darkness.

Then, an angelic voice permeated the entire hall and sang, "Somewhere over the Rainbow," a cappella. The spotlight found Natalia, and then Karin joined. Magdalena joined in last.

It lifted Kara's soul from her body, except the chill caused by goose bumps kept reality alive.

Everything else disappeared, except the sound and Natalia in her shiny hunter green, strapless gown. Long reddish brown curly locks fell and rested on her level shoulders. She sang and her collarbone popped out above her slightly revealed cleavage.

Kara was in disbelief. She knew Natalia could sing, but she never heard her in concert.

Natalia seemed like an unreachable goddess.

Kara lost control, and tears adorned her cheeks. Her cheeks blossomed into a smile.

Like that, Natalia's song ended. The house lights brightened and the place exploded with acclamation.

Kara remembered she had come with a date. He, with the rest of the crowd, stood in ovation.

Kara's tears poured. He pulled a hanky from his breast pocket and handed to her.

"Thank you," Kara said. She dabbed her eyes and watched her friend take a bow.

They announced the intermission over the house speakers. The audience oozed out into the aisles and went into the foyer.

Kara looked at Alex and he returned the look with a smile. She returned the smile bowed her head and apologized.

"Do not apologize," he said. He extended his hand and lifted Kara's chin.

"Is this your phone?" Kara asked. She shook her face from his hand and reached to the floor.

"Looks like it," he said. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Says you have a message. Prolly from your other girlfriend," Kara teased. She flipped it open.

He chuckled.

Kara froze as she read:

Sanchez: is Kara with you? 7:02 p.m.

me: yes, why? 7:03p.m.

Sanchez: Melanie remembered who attacked her 7:03 p.m.

me: u sure it's the right guy? 7:04 p.m.

Sanchez: we are not sure. probably. 7:05

It was 7:57.

Kara pushed the end button and handed Alex his phone. She stared off towards the stage.

Alex reached for Kara's hand. Kara retracted her hands and folded them across her chest.

"Is something wrong?" Alex asked to no reply.

Chapter Thirty

"We get the warrant yet?" Sanchez asked the Chief.

"It's on its way. SWAT is ready to go in 20 minutes. You and Vu get out there and wait on them," the Chief said.

The Chief spun on the heels like a used car sales man. He waved his finger and said. "Rey! Burton! Go with Vu and Sanchez. We got this guy."

"Why's SWAT going?" Rey asked. "He's at his mom's in the 'burbs."

"This guy has a complex. He's not going without a fight," the Chief said.

"Jimmy Johns?" Rey asked

"Good idea. She comes to answer the door and we take her out of the equation. He comes to the door, we snipe him."

"Who gets to be Jimmy?" Burton asked.

"I'll take it you're my volunteer?" the Chief said.

"Sweet," Burton said.

"Hurry up and change," Sanchez said. "I want this done a half hour ago."

Burton came back from the locker room. His Jimmy John's shirt was dirty, his hat was on sideways, and the paper bag had seen better days.

The four officers made their way to the street and to their cars. Lights flashed and sirens sounded. They headed east towards Snellville.

They approached the subdivision. All sirens and lights ceased. The unmarked cars rolled through the neighborhood and stopped two houses from the address.

"Where's SWAT?" Sanchez said. She bit her nails.

"They'll be here," Vu said. "They're here," he said. He pointed to the adjacent rooftop.

"I do not see them," Sanchez said.

"That's the point," Vu said. He pushed on his radio, "Burton, you got the green light."

"Copy."

Burton flopped across the yard and his paper bag. He approached the door and SWAT members lined against the garage.

Burton pushed the doorbell and waited. He peered into the frosted window and no movement caught his vision.

"I'm so stoked," Sanchez said. She spit out a piece of her thumbnail.

"This could go wrong a thousand ways. Do not get cocky," Vu warned.

The door opened. The woman at the door shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

"Jimmy Johns," the button man said.

"Stand-by," Vu called, through his radio.

Burton handed the bag to the woman and she handed it back.

Burton grabbed her outstretched arm, pulled her to himself, and covered her mouth. He muffled her scream.

"The hen is out of the roost," Vu said. "The hen is out of the roost. Move! Move! Move!"

One right after the other, the SWAT team entered the home. The first wave disappeared into the house and the second wave appeared and disappeared.

Burton escorted the woman down the road to the SWAT command post parked at the end of the block.

The SWAT team secured the location, Sanchez and Vu drove to the command post.

"She says he ain't here," the commander said.

"When does she expect him back?" Sanchez asked.

"He moved out a few months ago. Before all the attacks happened."

"My son did not do this," she screamed from the backside of the command vehicle.

"Where does he live?" Sanchez said.

"I'll never tell you!"

"Burton! Book her for obstruction," Sanchez said. Her nostrils flared nostrils.

"Okay! I'll tell you. He's got a penthouse in Atlanta."

Chapter Thirty-One

A long minute of silence passed and Kara said, "What is this?" She shoved his phone into his face, as if she was the Statue of Liberty.

"Oh," Alex said.

"You were not going to tell me?"

"I was waiting until intermission," he said.

"Why is Detective Sanchez texting you at all?"

Alex put his hands in his pockets and looked at the seat bottom in front of them.

"Answer me!" Kara said.

"I'm not Air Force," he said. He looked at his feet and rocked to his right foot.

"What?" Kara said, as if he shot her through the chest, and her heart disintegrated.

"Not anymore. I'm FBI. I took a furlough to come from Quantico and work on this case myself. She has the case, but I wanted to help where I could."

Every thought of the last few weeks flooded back into Kara's mind. Everything changed.

She pictured herself in the minivan strapped down and helpless. She pictured the seatbelt around her neck and Alex stood in the distance. He watched the whole thing happen. Why had he been so late? Why would he let her down then? He would let her down again just like every other man.

Did he like her? It must have been a ploy so they could gain more information. How long had he worked with the Detective? Was she in on it too? She had suggested Alex might be a suspect. However, that was a cover for his undercover work.

They had been close to this guy. Very close. Close enough they knew where he would strike. In addition, they let it happen to her. They would let it happen to more. They did not stop him.

He did not like her or love her. She was part of the job.

"I do not get it. You heard about this case and happened to come be a part, instead, you lead me on and break my heart, meanwhile this guy is still out there? Is this some new investigation technique the FBI is teaching in the academy? Some police patrol tactic? Am I collateral damage? I do not matter as long as the guy gets caught?"

"Kara, that's not it at all. Grace-Leigh is my sister. Was my sister. I could not do my job. My commander forced me to take time off. I sat around and stewed. Vengeance raged in me so I came here for this guy. I accidentally stumbled across you. I was with some guy friends. I had no idea I'd just bump into the guy. I did what I prayed somebody would have done for my sister if they'd seen it. If they saw it they did not do anything and they have not come forward."

"You lied to me," Kara said. She choked back tears and stood to her full height of 5'3 with the added hair and heels. She looked him square in the eyes and let out a hoot. She turned and made her way to the aisle.

"Where are you going?"

Kara stopped and turned to him, "Home."

"I have your valet ticket," he said. He reached in his pocket.

"Keep them. I do not care."

"Kara, do not do this. I was trying to protect you."

"Right."

"Come back," he said.

Kara stopped. She came back to him and punched him in his eye.

"You manipulated me," Kara said. She left the hall, and bounded down the stairs.

Kara went into the bathroom and washed her face.

Fuming. Hurt.

I might cool off, she thought.

The line was long and the atrium was packed and loud. Kara stood against one of the plastered pillars and leaned her back into it. With her arms folded and her forehead ruffled, Kara seethed. If people looked at her, they averted their eyes in fear of the molten she would turn them into.

"Kara," somebody called.

The boy who added her on Facebook a couple weeks earlier ambled towards her.

He looked dorkier in person, Kara thought. He waved his hand in circles over his head and tried too hard for her attention.

He neared her and said, "You see Natalia?"

"Yeah."

"She was good," he said, and then awkward silence followed.

Kara lowered her chin, but she lifted it up and looked under her eyebrows. She waited for any other words.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to go back in," Kara said.

"Yeah. Oh, okay. Hey, Kara."

"Yeah?"

"I sent you an email. From the Admirable Exchange."

"That was you?"

"Yeah. You never wrote back you know."

Kara stared.

"Jonathon Twigg. Jon. I sat behind you in biology last year."

"Look, Jon, if I may. You are a sweet guy I am sure. Writing a secret admirer letter does not work anymore, especially when you stalk people on Facebook first. I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I had my heart shattered into a thousand pieces so I could not, even if I wanted to."

"I'd never do that to you," he said. He lowered his lip.

"Jon. Jonny. No. I mean it. It does not mean try harder. I'm not interested."

"Kennedy!" Kara said. Saved by a friend.

Kennedy looked up. He jogged in his tuxedo.

"Wow, you look handsome," Kara said.

"You are spectacular," he said. "What's it been? Two years? Are you still in high school? Who's this guy?"

"This is Jon, he was leaving," Kara said. She smiled. "Yeah, it's been two years. You did books for basketball, my freshman and sophomore year, so yes; I'm still in high school. Looking forward to this year being done."

"I bet. Hey, I was getting ready to leave. I came for those three girls, but the second half looks somewhat dull to me. Are you doing anything?"

"Not really," Kara said.

"Look, friends of mine have a penthouse at the top of a high rise, Downtown. By Centennial Park. They're supposed to have a party going on later, but I'm supposed to go set things up for it. You interested in going with me?"

"Yeah, sounds fun. We could catch up and I could meet some new people," Kara said.

Jon Twigg stood within arm's length, but he was silent. He pursed his lips like he sucked on a pickle. He was hurt.

He made Kara feel nervous and she remembered he had made other people feel uneasy. She did not know Jon's name or she thought it was something else.

Kara bid Jon Twigg farewell.

She put her arm out, and Kennedy escorted her towards the doors.

They exited and Kara glanced to the balcony and Alex toward over the banister. He rested his hands on the railing. He frowned and he raised his hand but he never waved.

Kara stopped and looked.

"What's wrong?" Kennedy said.

"Thought I saw someone I knew," Kara said. Her eyes lowered. Jon mimicked Alex pose, unaware.

Kara and Kennedy disappeared through the doors into the moist Georgia night; Karin Mueller warmed up for the second act, and pounded out La Folia.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Alex watched Kara disappear with the flash of the glass door. His ear twitched and Mueller rubbed the strings with bow and warmed up for the second act.

He walked half way down the staircase and rested his phone against his ear. His phone buzzed and he answered it.

"Sanchez, its Alex."

"He was not here," Sanchez said. "His mom said he moved downtown earlier this year."

"I lost Kara," Alex said.

"What?"

"My cover was blown. I dropped my phone and she saw your text and figured things out."

"So she left?"

"She met up with somebody. Somebody she had not seen in awhile, and they left."

"How fast can you get downtown?"

"I can be there in fifteen minutes if I have to be. Who is this guy?"

"His name is Kennedy Fitzpatrick. Melanie said he was the scorekeeper for the girls' basketball team at Greater Atlanta Christian. He traveled with the team. He helped with equipment and other things."

"That's his connection to the other girls?" Alex asked.

"We're pretty sure. It would give him enough connection to go after these girls," Sanchez said.

"I'm on my way," Alex said. He ducked into Kara's car. "I'll call you when I get closer."

Chapter Thirty-Three

Kennedy drove Kara into Atlanta, near Georgia Tech. He parked in the turn-around in front of the fifty story high-rise. He dumped his car in the fifteen minute parking. They got out of the car and he led Kara into the building. He swiped a key fob and opened the interior sliding glass door.

"Hey, Kennedy," the bellhop said. Kennedy handed him his car keys. They walked through a hall to the right of the sliding door where an elevator waited their arrival.

"My friends and I chipped in to get this penthouse," Kennedy said. They stepped on to the elevator. He pushed the 49/50 button.

"They are more of the artsy fartsy people I am," he paused, and added, "I did it for the investment. I work in a bank, with companies, blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, sometimes we throw parties to schmooze the clients. Sometimes, we throw parties. Most of the time it's quiet for my artist friends."

Kara nodded, but she did not hear him. She was happy she left Alex. She'd process through everything in peace. Her reaction was a little harsh, but not unfounded.

Kennedy was her friend, she justified. She did not plan to hurt Alex with the exception of a punch to his eye.

Alex betrayed her. She did not feel bad that she left him.

"It's me, my friend, his wife, a guy named Enrique, who I do not know what he does and four other people, who I do not know anything about. We all contributed to the purchase of this four-bedroom, two-floor, penthouse. We call it 'the Perch'," he said.

The elevator stopped and opened its doors into a long hall with four doors off two on either side.

"We soundproofed the walls. It allows midnight parties for some of Atlanta's finest yuppie population. And we do not draw unwanted attention from unwanted neighbors," he said with a laugh. He patted the walls.

Kennedy unlocked the door and it opened to a huge formal living area. It opened up and lofted over a lower level.

"There's a master bed room over there, with a magnificent bathroom in it. My friend and his wife claim it, so I have seen it twice."

He led Kara down the stairs to an opened living area. It was covered in laminated wood floors.

The windows started from the floor and reached to the second floor. Perpendicular to the floors, there were more windows with a view of downtown proper. The longer wall of windows viewed greater Atlanta.

Under the loft, a huge, modern kitchen and a small dining table. Off the kitchen, it looked to be two more bedrooms, with a bathroom and a laundry room on the other side.

"Wow, this is amazing," Kara said. She looked out the westward windows. "You can use the balcony?"

He nodded.

"I'm glad you asked me to come here with you," Kara said. She smiled and said, "I so need to clear my mind."

"What's wrong, Kara?"

Kara looked at him. She darted her eyes away and sat on the bench of the baby grand piano that dressed the southwest corner where the windows met.

"Well," she said. She paused and looked over the roofs of the cityscape. "I was on a date with a guy. I thought I liked him. We went out to a fancy Japanese restaurant and had a great time.

"At intermission, I saw he had dropped his phone. I picked it up and the text screen was up. It caught my eye and I realized he had lied to me this whole time.

"He said he was in the Air Force. He's not. His last name is different. I do not know what to believe."

Kennedy hovered over Kara's shoulder, quiet. Kennedy frowned.

"So you left him?" Kennedy said. His eyes widened and his eyebrows arched.

"He has my car too. I thought I liked him," Kara said.

"Oh," Kennedy said. He placed his hands in his pants pockets, and looked at his feet.

"You're name is Kara," he said. "Kara is Greek for joy but by the looks of things, you are anything but joyful: your red bottom lip protruded and hung, like so. Come, and sit on the couch. It's got to be better than the bench."

Kara obliged and moved to the brown leather sofa. She reached and unstrapped her shoes. She stretched her legs out and she slouched. Her dress, like an accordion, bunched at her upper thigh and lower back. She twirled her hair and looked at Kennedy from the corner of her eye.

"Want something to drink?" he asked. He stood and gestured with his hands out. He brought them back and folded them over his belly.

"You have Dr. Pepper?" Kara asked. Her eyes darted but her neck was unmoved.

"Yes. Yes, I do. You want something strong mixed in it?"

"No. Ice and a cup."

Kennedy clanked in the kitchen and came back. He handed Kara a plastic cup filled with, "Dr. Pepper, on the rocks."

Kara took it and sipped on it.

Kennedy sat on the opposite end of the couch and swallowed a little bit from his Scotch glass.

"Ah," Kara said. She smiled. "I love the tickle of the fizz in my mouth and on my throat."

Kara turned her gaze to the floor. She picked out a piece of ice with her lips. She crunched the ice with her incisors and moved them to her molars.

Kennedy scooted in closer, and put his arm behind Kara and rested it on the cushion.

"Let's talk," Kara said. Her voice trailed and her gaze never moved. "Friend to friend."

"About what?" Kennedy said. He folded his arms and scooted closer. He sat with his legs shoulder width apart and shifted his weight towards her. With his calico eyes, he looked the barrel of his nose at Kara.

Kara's eyes grew wide and glossed over. Dazed, she took a sip, her eyes fixed in a parallel universe.

"Kara?" Kennedy said. He turned his body and faced her. He leaned his side against the back of the couch and called her name again.

"I do not know if it's appropriate," Kara said.

"You can talk to me, Kara. Whatever you're comfortable with, I'm fine with..." he said. He shoved his hand into his right pocket.

"It's not that easy," she said.

Silence ensued. Architectural creaks sounded. The refrigerator motor kicked on. The Santa Claus clock on the wall ticked.

Kara swallowed a large lump. Her lower lip quaked and she said, "I'm pregnant." Monotone. Unmoved.

Kennedy's eyes widened.

The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The refrigerator minded its own business. Silence reigned supreme, unadulterated, and established a dynasty. The off white décor appeared more sterile.

Both persons remained stiff.

Kara sniffled.

Kennedy tightened his clutch on his glass.

Neither spoke.

Kara buried her head in her hands and rocked. She waited for his response.

"How far are you?" Kennedy questioned.

"Three weeks," Kara said, through her cupped hands.

"This is great," he applauded. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I... I do not know."

"You do not know... let's see what you do know. Is it mine?"

"I do not know. I think so."

He grabbed Kara's wrists and yanked her so their noses touched.

He looked in her eyes and growled, "You make me sick."

She spat in his face.

Kennedy's face burned red. He looked over his shoulder into the kitchen. His jaw shook.

He wiped the spit from his left eye, and cocked back. He struck Kara with an open fist, against her mouth.

Kara heard the pop and she knew he hit her. Her head moved with the blow and she buried her face into the couch.

Kara trembled. A tear streamed from each eye.

"It's yours," she shouted, into the cushion.

"You cannot know you're pregnant!" he said.

"Yes, I can Kennedy. I was probably ovulating. I missed my period so I took a pregnancy test."

"It could not be somebody else's? I used a condom," he said.

"Yes, Kennedy, it's yours. I never had sex before or after," Kara said. Her body postured but her fingers shook.

"Besides, condoms are 97% effective if they work. If you put it on wrong, or it was defective or old, the chances of pregnancy increase, Kennedy."

"They told me I had retrograde ejaculation. That I could never get a girl pregnant," he said. He walked away from her.

"I do not know what to tell you," Kara said.

Kennedy walked to the window and did not look back. He stared at the city and gripped his cup. The cup cracked and his drink sprinkled to the floor. "Rita of Cascia," he said.

He dropped the glass on the floor and it shattered. He looked, at blood, which seeped through the pink slice in his hand.

"You're bleeding," Kara said, tears in full stream.

"Where did I go wrong?" Kennedy said. He balled his hand and shook it. He muttered and paced the span of the Southern windows. He sputtered a curse word and threw his uninjured hand in the sky.

"How did you know it was me?" Kennedy asked. "I was so careful to disguise myself. Did the police figure it out?"

"I gave them what I knew at the time and they are still scratching their pants pockets."

Kennedy turned and faced Kara. He breathed and asked, "How?" His hands flapped in the air and then punched them back into his pocket. His hands bulged in and out in his pockets.

"You talk too much, Kennedy," Kara said. Tears trickled down her nose but she continued, "I hear your voice in my sleep. I hear it when I close my eyes. I hear it when I put my ear buds in."

Kennedy smiled. "You think of me?"

Kara talked some more. "When we got into your car, I thought it was you. I thought my mind played tricks on me because it does every day. When you asked me what was wrong, I knew, because that's how you asked me that night."

Kennedy stood silent. His eyebrows dipped. His glare pierced.

Kara put her mouth onto the lip of the cup and she took in another ice cube and chewed.

"It's just like you," Kennedy yelled. "You cannot ever seem to make up your mind. You're so confused, and you want to make everyone else around you confused."

"I do not understand," Kara said. "What are you talking about?" Her mouth was agape. She had thoughts of words but none formed.

"This is crazy," he said. He strained his words through his teeth. "You make me crazy. You want to manipulate me and to control me. You tear me down so I feel like scum... I am beholden to you."

"Listen!" Kara shouted. She lowered into a whisper and continued, "I might have had a crush on you when you were my classmate. But, I thought my best chance at sexual purity was to not date until college."

Kara inhaled.

"It was never personal," she continued, "I forgot about you when you graduated. Three weeks ago happened... when..." Kara wrinkled her forehead and lifted her trimmed eyebrows. Her eyebrows hinged on either side.

"See, that's your problem!" he accused.

"What? I think?" she snapped.

"There you go, twisting my words; trying to make me feel bad!" he scolded. He skidded across the floor his fist ready for blows.

Before he got to her, Kara stood, her head topped off at his chin. She grabbed him by his tuxedo jacket and looked at him in the eyes.

He stared away from her gaze and scanned the great room. His upper lip quivered.

"We've been through so much," he said, through his teeth. Tears rested on the ledge of his bottom eyelids.

"What are you talking about, Kennedy. I was a basketball player; you were a statistician." Kara said.

"I feel like a ball of barbed wire is in my chest and unraveling, pushing through my veins and oozing out of my pores. The stress... I cannot do this anymore. I cannot live in fear and you did this. This..." breathe, "is what we have."

Kara's breath swept against his face. He coughed, like he had a fish bone caught in his throat.

"This is ridiculous," he said. He grabbed Kara's wrists and twisted her grip from his jacket. He jolted to his left and walked to the wall of windows. He raised one arm and rested it on the window frame. He kept the other tucked in his pocket. His eyes scanned the bustling city, below.

"What about this?" he said, into the glass. "Are you going to give up this life? Do you want to throw this all away?

"You hurt me, Kennedy. You hurt a lot of people. I do not want you part of my life."

"I can change. I can be better," Kennedy said, with a shrill voice.

"You will never stop. You killed one girl and it satisfied you for a little while. But that wore off. You needed more. You killed more. Where does it stop? What next?"

Kara stopped and lowered her head.

Kennedy scratched the windowpane with his index finger.

Kara continued. "We are so different. I'm like Cinderella and you are like Peter Pan. I want to grow up and go to the ball, but you're stuck in some kind of sick Never Never Land. You cannot give me a glass slipper, Kennedy. You cannot meet my needs. Not after you've hurt me."

"I redeemed you," Kennedy said. His head twitched in Kara's direction.

"Whatever," Kara said. She shook her head.

A bout of silence came, but Kennedy broke it and said, "We've got something great here. It's fool proof."

"Kennedy, it's not fool proof."

"You're a rat!" he said, out of nowhere. He bolted towards Kara and threw her back onto the couch.

"No! I... nobody knows I'm here," she cried. She covered her temples with her gnarled fingers.

"You had to! Nobody else would rat us out! What else could it be?" he asked. He waited for her answer.

The ticks of the silver, atomic clock ticked and it penetrated the prolonged silence. The refrigerator kicked in and added a steady hum to mask the silence.

"Kennedy, listen to me," Kara said. She cupped her hands over her mouth.

Kennedy meandered to the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of Jack and poured himself an eight ounce glass.

He slammed it, never puckered, and never chased. He set his glass on the counter top. He leaned and stared at the mirror, behind liquor shelves.

Kennedy trekked to the stereo and turned it on. He blasted an eighties hair band. He cranked the music so loud, who sang was so indistinguishable but it was definitely an eighties band.

The volume penetrated Kara's skull and cut her thought off.

Kara watched him pour another glass of whiskey, before he walked back to his perch at the window.

A waft of alcohol trailed Kennedy, and he lost himself in his anger.

173 seconds ticked by and then the music silenced.

Kennedy turned.

"Do not move, Mother fu... ahhhhhh," Kara said.

"What are you doing?" Kennedy said. He raised his glass, his voice, and his eyebrows.

"I'm going to kill you, Kennedy," she said. She held a 'Baby' GLOCK 26.

"What? You would not do that. Put it down."

"No, I'm going to shoot you and look you in the eye when I do it. I want to see the terror in your eyes. I want to see what it looks like when you know you are going to die."

"Kara, let's talk about this," he said. He stepped once towards her, one hand up like he hailed a taxi.

"I said, do not move!"

He stopped.

"I've got 33 rounds and every last one of them is going to pump into, and through your body. If that does not kill ya, I've got two more magazines in my purse."

"Let's be reasonable."

"Reasonable? You raped me. And you want to talk, 'let's be reasonable'? You've taken my life and the life of my friends. , you had the audacity to come to me tonight? Reasonable!"

"Forgiveness, Kara."

"I can forgive you, but I do not have to forget."

"You needed to..."

"Shut up! You talk too much, Kennedy. It is my turn to talk.

"I realized something. I thought I was suffering because it was my fault or God somehow let this happen to me.

"That was not it at all. Suffering is suffering. God is God. Not to be confused. One is not the other.

"Oh, and since you're into liturgy... your sins are retained," Kara said. She gripped the gun with her strong arm. Something Alex taught her. Then she gripped with her weak arm under her strong arm. She took a shaky breath and asked, "Why did you do it?"

"What?"

"Why did you do this to me... to my friends?"

"Adiophora," he said. He showed his teeth and chuckled.

"What?"

"The Bible neither forbids nor commands it," Kennedy said.

"Are you kidding?" Kara asked. Her eyes filled with tears of anger, hurt, unforgiveness and disbelief. She blinked and cleared her eyes of saline warmth.

She opened her eyes and Kennedy's arm was behind his back.

"Do not do it, Kennedy," Kara said with a growl in her voice.

A loud knock came sounded. Kennedy flicked his eyes in the direction of the door. Kara's eyes darted for a half second and she heard. "You have to die!" Kennedy said with a projected voice and his saliva.

His left hand moved forward.

Kara caught a shimmer of steel in Kennedy's hand.

Chapter Thirty-Four

"Command one, this is the Fox. We are in position," the SWAT leader said into his mic. He squatted at the tail end of his team.

"Concierge says they saw them go up. He said Kara was definitely with him," Sanchez said. "Verify the number."

Dead air. "Verified."

"Alex and I are on our way up," Sanchez said. "You have the green light, Fox."

Fox waved his hand over and gave the signal to go.

The front man pounded three times on the door.

Silence.

"What's happening Fox?" Sanchez asked.

Fox moved from the back of the line to the front.

"Nothing," Fox whispered.

"This is our guy," Sanchez said.

"There's music," Fox said. "Shots fired! Shots fired!" The sound of shattered glass ricocheted into the hall.

"What? Get in there! Go, go, go!" Sanchez said.

The tail man came to the door. He held his Black Rhino in position. He rotated at his hips and took one swing. The swing pushed the door through the frame.

"Go, go, go!" Fox said. He waved each man through, into the apartment.

* * *

"Shots fired," came through Alex's earpiece. His heart sank. His blood freefell to the bottom of his feet and left his head light. His esophagus tightened and he squinted his eyes. This was his fault, he thought.

Alex followed Sanchez to the elevator and rode it to the top. They came into the hall and the last black boot disappeared into Kennedy's apartment.

* * *

Kara fired twice and penetrated through Kennedy's chest.

Like a scene from "The Sopranos", blood dribbled through his shirt.

His hand dropped but he clung to his gun. He gasped and moved his eyes from Kara to his chest.

The bullets pierced through his flesh. The window cracked, but the panes held some shards.

Kara fired again and poked a hole in his forehead. The lead pierced the glass to the right of his head.

In succession, she emptied three more in the same pattern. The first two, in a subsequent pattern, filled his chest and knocked him backwards into the window. The third one missed.

The bullets burned through Kennedy's flesh.

Like a midsummer's rain on a sunny day, sparkles of glass crystals surrounded his falling body.

Kennedy found himself suspended in the air, with his back parallel to the ground. He remembered the force and the sound, but he could not remember how it happened.

The air, moist and cool, mixed with a scent of fresh roasted coffee beans. His breath was heavy and gargled.

"What a joyous exchange we had," Kara said with a grin.

Centripetal force pulled his body to the earth and centrifugal force pushed his blood to the back of his body: his skin tingled.

Gravity brought him so far and Kara stood, unabashed, her hair swirled around her. She looked beautiful in that red evening gown, he thought.

That was the last Kennedy glimpse of Kara. He spent the next fifteen seconds of his life and reflected on how he could have lived differently.

A BMW broke his fall.

"Oh my God," the driver said. He got out his car. His pants went in the front. "How did this happen? I hit a man! Help!"

An elderly black man smoked his cigarette across the street stared at the scene. A bellhop came ran and assistance.

Kara stood in the window muttered, "Self defense." She rubbed her shapeless belly and she exhorted, "Now we can have freedom."

Breathe.

Kara's head floated away. She backed herself to the couch, fell back, and sighed again. Her body smacked the deep mahogany leather.

A large crash came and the front door splintered into pieces.

Wood chips flew down the stairway and a black boot in the air.

"SWAT Team!" Fox said. "Everybody down!"

Kara hit the floor with authority and landed in a pushup formation. She strained her eyes in the direction of the stairs. She stopped counting. Twenty identical people in black uniforms and automatic weapons stormed the stairs. Over her shoulder, more Kevlar black helmets and body armor piled into the apartment. Mutant Teenage Turtles. The helmets bounced in and secured their positions throughout the loft.

"What's going on?" Kara said, into the floor.

"We have a warrant for the arrest of Kennedy Fitzpatrick," Fox said.

"He's not here," Kara explained. Her heart ping ponged in her rib cage and thumped against the floor.

She held her breath. She feared her heart thump might be mistaken any movement for sudden movement.

"Surveillance said he was here," he said. He looked at another person from SWAT. "We know he came up here," he shouted.

"I shot him. He fell out that window," Kara said. She gestured her head in the direction of window.

"Well, I'll be damned. Where's the weapon, Miss?"

"To my left, on the floor, by the couch," Kara said.

The SWAT commander came and squatted by Kara, "Is that the weapon? Is there anything else which should give my guys concern?"

"No. I do not know. This is not my place. I thought Kennedy was a friend. But, then I thought he was going to attack me again. So I shot him," Kara said. She rambled and her voice trailed off.

"Holy crap," a SWAT yelled from the loft. "Weapons, weapons, weapons. Cocaine, meth, heroine. It's payday, Boss."

"Oh shit. The mayor is gonna be gettin' reelected," he muttered. He looked at Kara and he said, "One of my boys is going to hand cuff you. We are not sure what's going on here, but there are a couple agents on their way to sort this out."

"You're not under arrest. We are doing this to keep everybody safe."

"Okay," Kara said. Another officer twisted her arms back and slid handcuffs on her wrists. He helped Kara to her feet and helped her back to her seat on the couch. Kara looked over her shoulder. The cuffs pinched her deltoids as she strained her gaze.

The SWAT Team had finished a run through the apartment, a few of them remained.

Sanchez, Vu and Alex came.

Sanchez vouched for Kara, said she was safe, and they released her. She said she would get things sorted out and she would come by Kara's house and question her later. Silent, Alex stood and said nothing.

Kara slipped her shoes on and grabbed her purse. Kara went to Alex and put her arms around him. Her heart burned.

Angst.

Nothing else followed.

Kara let go, walked toward the stairway, and went out the broken door. She pushed the button and waited for an elevator. One opened.

She rode it to the ground level walked. "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so," she sang and her voice squeaked with each note.

The door opened and emptied onto the ground floor.

Kara wandered out of the building. She had no direction. She walked.

Kara made eye contact with the elderly black man.

"That's crazy," he said, through his cigarette. He shook his head.

Karin Mueller played Vivaldi; Krista Plum's mother cried one more time; the Atlanta Braves clinched another division title. A horn honked; a siren blared; a child screamed; a bullet rang out.

The Atlanta night was less dangerous, with Kennedy Fitzpatrick dead. Streetlights lit the walkway. Catcalls from the nightlife followed Kara.

Resolved, Kara trekked on. Absolved, she could do no other.

Breathe.

She rubbed her hand over her belly once more.

She turned.

Alex.

She stopped, bent her arms at her elbows. She received Alex into her arms and nuzzled her nose into his chest.

"Safe," he said.

Breathe.

###

Dedicated to all the victims of sexual assault. Somebody cares.

#somebodycares #breathe

