It wasn't Grayson's hand she felt on her hair, it was Elliot's. She fell into the past. The smell of Everclear and cheap fruit punch on Elliot's breath filled her nostrils. He forced her down on the bed, angrily yanked on her hair as she squirmed and struggled and tried to peel his hands away but he yanked her jeans down. The b.u.t.tons sc.r.a.ped over her skin as he tore at her underwear and threw his weight on her. His hand worked against her back as he undid his fly. Elliot's voice in her ear. Shut up. You'll like it.

"Jennifer?"

"Franklin?" she croaked.

Franklin came in the room, screaming at his brother. What are you doing? Leave her alone!

"No, it's me. I've got you."

Her chest hurt more than her back, her heart tightened so hard it would explode. She was sure she was dying.

Every word was a struggle. "I'm h-having a heart attack."

He picked her up like she weighed nothing at all, and shoved the dresser out of the way with a hard kick. Her head hurt. Was her nose bleeding?

She was burning up, but she shivered like she'd dropped into a pool of ice water. Jennifer clawed at the fabric and held on for dear life.

Her room was trashed, the furniture destroyed, her bed torn up, and someone was picking her up, but that wasn't real, that wasn't there. She was seventeen years old and she would always be seventeen years old. There was nowhere else, only hurtful hands on her skin, bruising her arms and legs, the sc.r.a.pe of Elliot's nails as he raked them over her skin and tore at her clothes, but this time there was no Franklin, no one to fix it, no one to make it go away.

"He's here," she moaned. "He's here. He's here."

"There's no one but me. I know you're scared. Focus on my voice. You're going to be okay."

"I'm having a heart attack." Her throat felt like it was full of sand and she couldn't swallow.

"It's going to pa.s.s."

"My purse. I need my purse. Get my purse."

Without putting her down, he grabbed the strap.The purse dangled from his hand as he carried her through the open front door.

"Faisal, pick us up on the back street. Move."

Who was Faisal? Why were all these people in Franklin's bedroom?

A dark car rolled up. He lowered Jennifer into the back seat and crawled in beside her and slipped off his mask.

"I've got you," said Jacob.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed. Her chest hurt.

"I'm dying," she whimpered. "I'm gonna die. I don't wanna die."

"You're not dying. Look at me."

She looked at him.

"That was then. This is now. It's just a memory. It can't hurt you right now."

She shook her head. "He's here."

"It's just us."

The driver pulled away from the house.

"Mrs. Carmody..." She couldn't manage more than a whimper.

"The police are coming," the driver said. He had a strange accent.

"Jennifer, look at me. You're not breathing. I need you to breath. With me, okay? In, out."

In, out.

In, out.

Her chest didn't hurt so much now, but it was still hard to breathe. Every motion and jolt of the car made her clench up again. He put something cool on her forehead.

"I'm cold."

"I know it feels that way, but you're burning up. You're safe here. Just look at me and breathe."

"Where are we going?"

"Someplace safe. Keep breathing. In, out."

"Clear the house."

Jacob's voice resonated clear through her muddled mind.

Other dark haired and olive-skinned men busied themselves with various activities around the house. Jennifer put her arms around Jacob's neck and pulled close to him as she met their gaze.

"Who are those people?"

"My friends. They work for me. Faisal, you heard me. Everyone out."

The driver nodded. Faisal spoke to the other men in another language that sounded like Arabic. The way Jacob effortlessly carried her up the stairs gave her a sense of floating. The world pa.s.sed under her until he lowered her onto a huge four-poster bed and pulled up a heavy blanket. She grabbed at its edge, tucking it under her chin.

Jennifer yelped when Jacob sat next to her and the bedsprings gave under his weight. She curled up in a ball and her chest tightened.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Why did you bring me here? What's going on?"

"You're hurt. You have a cut on your head and I need to ice up your jaw. It's going to bruise. I'm going to have Faisal help me. It'll be just us."

His friend entered the room with a first aid kit he deposited on the bed. Jacob peeled back Jennifer's hair and she winced at the sting of antiseptic on her scalp.

"You bled a lot, but I don't think it'll scar. Here, hold this."

He held a cold pack on the spot where Grayson hit the side of her head. The pain dimmed as panic took over. Jacob gathered more pillows and placed them under her head before lifting her calf. She reflexively pulled her leg out of his grasp.

"I need to see your ankle. That's all."

She nodded, forcing herself to relax. The swollen joint was tender, and Jennifer forgot how much it hurt until he touched it. She winced as the pain tore up her leg.

"We're going to have to splint it."

Faisal returned with an inflatable sprint. Jacob carefully covered her ankle, keenly aware each touch each time she groaned in pain until it was secure. Jacob balanced an ice pack on the splint before examining her arm.

The sc.r.a.pe from the other morning was mostly scabbed over, but he cleaned and bandaged any open cuts. Jacob found more pillows to elevate her hurt ankle, then took checked her pulse from her wrist.

"Go get my pills and a gla.s.s of water," he said to Faisal.

Jennifer rose up on shaking elbows. "What pills?"

He gently nudged her back down by her shoulder. "It's a mild sedative to help with panic attacks."

"You have panic attacks?"

"Sometimes," he nodded.

When his friend came back, Jacob showed her the pill bottle with his name on and shook one out into her cupped hand, and then offered a big gla.s.s of water. She took a small sip and swallowed the pill, then collapsed into the pillows.

"Drink more."

She scowled and sat upright long enough to drain the gla.s.s, and then finally relaxed. Her head still hurt but she didn't feel so dizzy, and the pain in her chest had faded to a cold burn.

"What's happening?"

"I don't know," he said. "I heard someone was breaking into your house."

Her head was heavy. When she moved, it felt like her skull was packed with rubber.

"I feel weird."

"Just relax, and go to sleep."

"I'm not tired," she lied, but she couldn't stifle the yawn.

"Yes, you are. It's okay. You're safe, now. If you need anything, just call."

"Where's my purse?"

"I have it. I'll bring it up. Just don't shoot me."

She blinked. "How did you know I had a gun in there?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Just get some sleep."

Jacob reached for the light switch.

"Leave it on."

He looked back and nodded, and stepped out, pulling the door behind him.

"Leave it open a little."

He stopped the door just before it shut, and Jennifer let out a slow sigh. She curled up on the bed, pulling the heavy weight of the ice pack on her ankle towards her.

The room was richly appointed, all antiques, designed and put together by someone trying to emulate what the house would have actually looked like in its prime. They did a remarkable job. Everything was all dark reds and browns and earth tones, very dark and cozy feeling. There was even a fireplace.

Shifting a little on the bed, she tucked the blankets up around her chin and turned her head to lean on the ice pack, so she didn't have to grasp it in her hand.

The only personal touch was a picture on the far wall. Four people posed in a photo probably taken at the JC Penny on Commerce Street before it closed. A man that looked like a leaner Jacob next to a tall woman with raven black hair, and seated in front of them was a skinny teenage Jacob and his little sister on his lap.

Sleep rolled over her like a wave.

Jennifer awoke still coc.o.o.ned in blankets. The ice pack on her chin was gone, but a fresh one rested on her ankle. Light poured in through a gap in the heavy curtains, slashing across the bed over to the door.

"h.e.l.lo?"

Barely thirty seconds after she spoke, Jacob opened the door and took a halting step in.

"Jennifer? Can I come in?"

Jennifer nodded, and pushed herself up until she could sit up against the headboard.

"Did you kill Grayson?"

"Not that I know of. He's in the hospital. That's the first thing you ask me?"

She shrugged. "Are we in the Dean house?"

"My house. Yes. This is my bedroom."

"Where'd you sleep?"

"Downstairs," he shrugged.

She rubbed her temples. "Oh. I feel funny."

"I gave you one of my anxiety pills last night. I'm a little heavier than you are, so they probably have more of an effect."

"Last night?" She yawned. "What time is it?"

"About one in the afternoon."

"s.h.i.t!" she barked.