"We'll go looking around at the usual spots," the guy said.

The girl told me her name was Molly; the guy was Kevin. I hated even hearing that name now.

I said, "I'd go with you but my family is here visiting. If you find her, let me know."

We exchanged numbers, and they went on their way.

My parents and Grace stayed about an hour or so. Most of the time was spent focused on the baby, which was great in so many ways, not the least of which was that it closed off a lot of opportunities for my parents to resume their campaign to bring me home with them.

Although, Mom tried in her own not-so-subtle way. She brought up things that she thought would make me homesick. Each time, Dad would say something like, "But you'd know that if were you were still home."

I was getting frustrated with this. So much so that I couldn't keep it inside anymore.

"This is is my home. You're looking at it." my home. You're looking at it."

They looked surprised.

"Olivia..." Grace said in a pleading tone, her voice trailing off.

"What, Grace?" I snapped, then looked back at my parents. "I'm living here now. I've started my life. I'm happy, okay? Really happy. And you should be happy for me."

"You're right," my mom said with a look on her face that told me she was simply trying to put an end to this little spat.

Dad, for once, didn't say anything.

The baby started to cry. Grace gathered her up and checked her diaper.

Mom said, "Does she need to be changed?"

"No," Grace said. "I think she needs a nap. Can we get going?"

The tension was heavy. I hated it. Hated every second of it. What had started out as a relatively nice weekend was turning out exactly as I had feared. The bickering, pa.s.sive-aggressiveness, control-all of it, everything I had left behind in Ohio-was now in my den in my new home.

I just wanted them to leave.

And as they did, we made half-hearted plans to have breakfast before they hit the road the next morning.

I tried calling Krystal when they were gone. No answer. I left a voicemail, then texted her. I was becoming increasingly convinced that she was off with the "friends" who had the cocaine.

I called Max.

"h.e.l.lo, dream girl," he answered.

"Can you come over?"

"What's wrong? Where's the family?"

I felt the sting in back of my throat that I get just before I cry. But I fought it back. "My family's gone back to their hotel, and they're they're what's wrong." what's wrong."

"Oh no. I'm sorry."

"Can you just please come over here? I need you."

"Give me thirty minutes."

My phone served as a good time-killer while I waited for Max. I checked Twitter to see what was up with the people I was following, and the trending topics. Nothing much interested me. So I opened the browser and went to People magazine, where they had photos from the red carpet at the Emmys.

I thought about that night Max took me to the movie premier in New York City. My first red carpet event. Maybe my last, too. But I didn't care. Seeing how extraordinarily glamorous the women looked made me feel like a poser by comparison. I had no business even thinking I could pull that off.

I snapped out of my downward spiral thinking when I heard a key in the door. It was either Krystal, or it could be Max, who had a key, but it was a little too early for that. He'd said to give him thirty minutes.

I stayed on the couch but looked at the door as the k.n.o.b turned slowly. Krystal sneaking in, I thought.

Then I froze. My mouth went dry. My eyes widened and stayed there.

Holy f.u.c.k. Chris....

TWELVE

I sat in shock on the couch as he crossed the threshold of my apartment.

He held up one hand. "It's okay," he said in a calm voice.

I shot up to my feet. "Get the f.u.c.k out!"

He closed the door and locked it without turning around. He faced me the whole time. His expression was serious, intense, crazy....

Luckily I had my phone in my hand. I raised it to dial 911.

Chris rushed me. I didn't have time to evade his quick movement. His arms wrapped around me, bear-hugging me from the side, almost crushing me. With one hand, he tried to pry the phone away from me, but I clutched it like my life depended on it because it probably did.

He was breathing heavily through clenched teeth, and I felt his saliva spraying against my cheek when he exhaled.

"Help! Get the f.u.c.k f.u.c.k away away from me! Help!" from me! Help!"

"Give it up."

"Let me go! Help me Help me!"

He squeezed me tighter, almost so I couldn't breathe, and said, "Did you like my flowers, sweetheart?"

Holy f.u.c.k f.u.c.k f.u.c.k!

He'd been in my house. How? Where did he get a key?

I needed to breathe. My face was getting tingly and I could hear my heart racing in my ears. He was still gripping me from the side, so as best I could I gathered all the strength in my body and forced my leg up and to the side, slamming into him-right into his b.a.l.l.s.

He made a sound like "Ooomph" and released me. He staggered back a couple of steps, bent over, his hand between his legs.

I'd never taken a self-defense cla.s.s before, and I'd never even thought about what I might do in situations like this. So maybe what I did next just came naturally. Or maybe from the movies.

I kicked him in the face. The bottom part of my shoe connected with his forehead and the short but thick heel caught his chin. I heard his jaw snap shut with a sickening and loud sound.

He tried to say something, but couldn't. Blood rushed from his mouth in a torrent. He opened his mouth as I stood over him, again trying to say something. His gaping maw was a deep, dark red, but I could tell his two front teeth were gone.

Adrenaline was flowing intensely through me. I could have killed him. Easily.

I moved closer to him, and he made one more attempt to fight, grabbing my ankle.

I raised my other leg and brought down my foot. A hard, crushing stomp on his crotch.

Chris turned on his side, curling up in the fetal position. Blood gushed from his mouth and it started forming a pool on the carpet.

I miraculously still had the phone in my hand. I swiped the lock screen, touched the dialer, and then the Emergency icon at the top.

Chris wasn't going anywhere.

The 911 operator answered and I spluttered out a nearly incomprehensible string of words.

"Ma'am, slow down. Please calm down. Do you need police?"

"Yesyesyesyes...."

The police arrived quickly. It must have only been four or five minutes. I had opened the door in the meantime, and I had also moved one of the chairs closer to Chris, where I stood on it, trapping his legs underneath.

When I saw the first officer come through the door, I jumped off the chair and collapsed on the couch. The adrenaline rush was subsiding and I just felt like I wanted to sleep. Forever.

I called Max. "Where are you?"

"About five minutes away. Why? What's wrong?"

I was crying again.

"Olivia," he said, flatly. "What is it?"

"J-j-just get here."

It didn't take him five minutes. Probably closer to three. I was sitting in the back of an ambulance when I saw him pull up. They were checking me out because my left side hurt like h.e.l.l.

They were loading Chris on to another ambulance.

"Max!" I called out, which only made me hurt more.

He turned, saw me, and rushed over through the flashing blue, white and red lights.

"Please stand back, sir," one of the paramedics said.

"That's my girlfriend. What happened Olivia?"

The paramedic who was checking me out broke in. "We're going to take you to the hospital. Your ribs need to be x-rayed."

"Jesus, Olivia. Will someone tell me what happened?"

Across the parking lot, we heard some shouting and lots of movement followed. I looked and saw that they'd found Chris's car.

The only words I heard were "keys" and "crowbar."

Then more commotion.

Max and I watched in horror as the cops popped open the trunk of Chris's car and pulled Krystal out of it.

She had duct tape wrapped around her head, covering her mouth, but not her nose. Her hair was a wreck and when the white light shone on her, I could see a welt on the side of her face.

I wanted to pa.s.s out. Maybe die right there.

"Let's go," the paramedic said, and Max jumped in the back of the ambulance.

"I'm riding with her."

"Wait. I want to see Krystal."

The paramedic closed the back doors of the ambulance. "We'll find out how she's doing, ma'am."

"Olivia," Max said sternly, "what the f.u.c.k is happening?"

I told him on the way to the hospital.