Chapter One

He staggers slightly as he carries her up the staircase, grinning despite himself. He had no idea she was this heavy! The other times he had lifted her, she'd seemed so light, so composed. . . The complete opposite of the girl he holds now. She seems heavier than ever before but yet she has never looked smaller. She is almost curled into him, hunched up in as tight as shape as she can manage. And yet. . . Her eyes are shut. Everything about her face is tense. It doesn't get much more unusual than that. Oh sure, she would get embarrassed or shy around people, and that could make her seem tense. But not tense like this. . . For now its tension, fear, pain that he sees on her face. God knows what horrors her eyes would hold. So many emotions mark the face that he is so used to seeing grinning cheekily at him, her eyes gleaming with laughter at some private joke, or flashing with passion in the middle of the dance floor. That was the girl he knew. The lighter, more carefree girl. . . He finally sets her down on the couch, relieved to be free of her weight, but almost instantly missing her closeness. Because he knows after everything that has happened to her tonight she will need him. And this time he wants to help. Its no longer about living up to her high expectations. Its about being the guy she saw him to be the first night he carried her. As he studies her face, she stirs but doesn't wake. He's relieved, he's not sure he's ready for her yet. Because before he can be strong enough for her, he has to come to terms with what happened to her tonight, and his part in it. He has to face up to a reality he never thought her would. He thought they were good people. He thought they would look after her. And, for once, he was wrong. So very, very wrong. . .

How he knows something is wrong with her tonight, he can't explain. When he left the club she was fine, drunk as usual, but fine. The usual hug, the kiss on the cheek, the "see ya" instead of a "goodbye". It was all normal. But this bad feeling, he can't explain it. Its in the wind? Don't be stupid! The stars ain't as bright? Oh please, what kinda trash is this?! But yet, he knows there's something wrong with her. He always does. Especially since she won't answer her phone, something she is virtually surgically attached too. He walks back to the club, and the bouncers are still there, and the red doors are still hanging open. Its unusual, given that the place shut around half an hour ago. He smiles at the familiar faces with no names as he walks past, half smiling at the row she would give him for not knowing their names. But one of them stops him.

"You fancying a piece of the action too then mate?"

His frown is masked by a bigger smile "Aye, its my friends in there after all."

"Yeah, the guys said we should expect you to want in on it."

With that, they let him pass. Only now he's more confused than ever, not to mentioned worried. . . He walks up the familiar stairs, and through the second set of doors. Never has a club looked so creepy. Especially when he sees her lying on the floor. Earlier in the night he'd teased her about her clothes, the top was too low, the trousers too tight, the usual banter. But now. . . Now her clothes are a mess. . . Ripped to shreds, in every horrible, unimaginable place, blood seeping through the scraps of clothes left intact. He walks towards her, and he picks her up without a second thought. He turns his heel on that hell hole and is almost out the door when he hears voices drifting from the curtained room behind him. Voices that chill his spine. Two voices, the voices of her friends, his friends. He pauses, wanting revenge, but sees the vulnerable form in his arms and knows he has to get her out of there. So he walks away. The bouncers are confused, but make no move to stop him. The look on his face is enough to scare even them. Enough to put a chill in the bones and freeze the blood. . .

She stirs, and this time her eyes open, darting wildly around the room. He has never seen her so scared. Even when her eyes meet his, there is no friendly flicker of recognition, if anything he sees disappointment there. Something they had promised each other they would never see. Her frown deepens, and she speaks something that isn't a scream for the first time since he left.

"You as well?"

This time, he's not ashamed to admit he's relieved when she closes her eyes again, the effort of speaking, on top of everything making her faint again. He knows she's not herself but the fact she would even consider he could do that to her. That he would hurt her. The one thing he could never intentionally do. He's never felt like so much of a cunt in his life. And despite that, there's a slight smile on his face. A voice in his head, so familiar and caring, so playfully angry. . . Her voice. . . Yelling. . . Telling him he's wrong, he's so much better than that. . . He knows that right now she would teasingly smack his arm, tell him he's a good guy, and point out that he saved her. He could have left her there but he didn't.