I'm contacting a bunch of authors in the SA community to write a story
centering on violence against women in honor of the victims of the Montreal
Lépine arrived at the building housing the École
Polytechnique, an engineering school affiliated with the Université de
Montréal, armed with a semi-automatic rifle and a hunting knife.

On December 6, 1989,

He went into a classroom, proclaimed that he hated feminist and that all the
women in the classroom were feminist. None of the men did anything they left.

After Lépine shot all nine women killing six he moved total he killed
fourteen women and injured ten other women and four men in just under twenty
minutes before turning the gun on himself.

Since the event happened on Dec 6 I ask that you post on that date.

Hope you accept the challenge.

Fond regards,

Kaytori

So, I got a message from Kaytori, a fellow writer on this site and couldn't not respond to her challange. Below I've included her message above and I hope you take this subject as seriously as I do. And this song was perfect for it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all. it's all Disney and Taylor Swift.

"Maybe it's you and you're sick need to give love and take it away/ And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors who don't understand/ And I'll look back and regret how I ignored when they said run as fast as you can/ Dear John, I see it all now that you're gone"~ Taylor Swift "Dear John"

"Alison? Alison Hart? Is that you?" Becky called to a ghost of a girl standing near the zoo entrance of Central Park. On her way to class, she decided to cut through the Park, considering she was early and it was such a nice spring day, one that New York City only saw once a year or so. She still had about ten minutes until the train she needed would arrive at the station. As she neared the subway entrance, she stopped and did a double take. "It's me." She tried again. "Beck? From Freshman year?"

The girl who stood barely five feet from her was a dead ringer for Alison Hart, one of Becky's four suitemates her freshman year. She was shorter than Becky; her wavy hair auburn with a hint of red here and there was pulled up into a neat pony tail. Where Alison had been curvy and vivacious, this girl was all elbows, but had a strange grace and sophistication about her. Alison had been a solid t-shirt and jeans (that were always covered in paint drips) sort of girl, this one was perfectly made up in a pair of well fitting jeans, a white lace collared blouse (one that Becky had her eye on for the last two paychecks). Alison always had painted fingernails, fun colors like electric blue or dark vampire red but there were always dried paint to be found in her nail beds and quite often dried under her fingertips. This woman's hand was impossibly smooth and white with a simple but sparkling French manicure. But Becky was sure it the eyes that gave her away. Alison had these huge almond shaped hazel eyes, the kind that you never forgot and here they were on this not quite stranger's made up face.

"Becky Barnes?" The girl rasped in Alison's voice, she swung her black Kate Spade bag over her shoulder and stepped a little closer in her sleek black boots.

They'd been close, bonding since they had two of their five classes together the first two quarters. Both New Yorkers by birth and childhood, they squired the out of state girls on their floors, teaching them the subway lines and stops. Becky and Alison were hardly apart those first few quarters, spending most of their time studying together, eating together, going to class together.

And then, of course, as it always does, life happened. Alison met John, a Junior Finance Major, and Becky saw her less and less until gradually, they didn't speak anymore. By then they'd made more friends in their prospective majors and hardly gave one another a second thought.

"Yeah," Becky grinned and held out her hands for a hug. Alison blinked rapidly a few times in a row and then returned the gesture. As Becky looped her arms around Alison's back, she realized with a start, she could feel the knobby line of her spine. "Yeah, it's me. How are you? I…I haven't seen you around campus for a while."

Alison shrugged as they slid out of their embrace. "Oh, you know….busy."

"Is the life of an artist everything you thought it would be?" Becky wondered, remembering seeing some of Alison's handy work. The paintings, with their bold colors and wild scenes took her breath away.

Alison smiled, but it was a pale mirror of what her smile used to be. "No…no. I…don't paint anymore."

"Oh," Becky smiles uncertainly, wondering why an artist like Alison would have stopped.

"You still doing the music thing?"

"Yeah, I work for the school radio station."

Alison nodded. "Oh, that's great. You were always so…picky about music. You know what you want to do after school's done? John says the economy is still so horrible-"

"You're still with John?" Becky was a little surprised. It wasn't that she hadn't liked John. He was charming and sweet, made it a habit to get to know Alison's girlfriends, Becky included. But Becky had never really been sure that he was the "one" for Alison. He was so ordered, so structured. Once and a while, when they all went out together, Alison, John, Becky and some of their other friends, Becky suddenly remembered how he would…well for the lack of a better word, rein Alison in, as if her voracious laughter was too much to listen to. And it irritated Becky, she remembered at the moment.

"Yes." was Alison's curt reply.

"No, I didn't mean anything by it," Becky held up her hand in surrender. "I was just….surprised is all. So John's good?"

Alison nodded, a lock of dark hair falling in her face. As she swiped it way, the neck of her blouse opened a little, revealing a dark bruise on her collar bone.

"Oh my God," Becky hissed in sympathy. "Are you all right?"

"What?" Alison looked down. "What?"

"Your neck!"

Alison pulled the collar back a little to see and then yanked it back tight over her throat, leaving her hand there. And as she held the shirt closed, her sleeve shifted a little and Becky could see a far older bruise on her wrist. "Oh…you know me, I'm such a klutz. I think I hit it on the shower door this morning….so what about you? You seeing anyone special these days?" Alison had never been a klutz. What was going on?

"Yeah," Becky was a bit taken aback by this sudden change of subject. "Yeah. I've been seeing my boyfriend since February. He's a good guy …" She shrugged, unsure of what to say next. This girl was not the girl she knew two years ago.

The old Alison had fire, passion and desire to set the art world on its ear. She'd be up all hours of the night, much to the chagrin of her roommate, popping peanut butter M&Ms and laughing louder than anyone who cared to join her. She drew inspiration from the oddest places and times, dashing off in the middle of conversations, to go paint.

And slowly, Becky remembered seeing Alison come in after a date with John. There had been a nasty bruise on her wrist, about the same place that it is now, that hadn't been there when she left. But Becky never said a word about it, not that she knew what to say in the first place. Too soon after that they drifted apart.

"Listen," Becky started. "I have to get going soon. But you should give me your number and we should hang out, for old times' sake."

"Oh…" Alison's smile faded and Becky could barely see her old friend there. "Oh, I don't know. I'm so busy and I know you are with your music and boyfriend…."

Becky had already pulled out a slip of paper and penned her phone number on it before Alison stopped protesting. "Seriously," Becky placed it in her hand. "Call me any time."

Alison looked down at the paper in her hand, confusion plaguing her. Confusion and something else. "Becky…"

"I mean it. Anytime. You know, if John's out of town or something or you just need a break from him."

Alison's eyes hardened. "What do you mean by that?"

Becky took a step back. "Nothing, I-"

"Everything is fine…I happen to miss him when he goes away." Alison sniffed.

"Alison, I wasn't trying to-"

Alison looked down the street and pulled a pair of sunglasses down on her nose. "John's here."She indicated a black town car, moving swiftly toward them. "I have to go."

"Yeah, okay." Becky sighed as the car pulled to a stop and Alison climbed in without a backward look.

Becky watched the car until it disappeared, her heart breaking silently inside her. All around her people walked, unaware that such a horrible…. thing was taking place. This woman was not their friend, their girlfriend, their sister or daughter. And so didn't care. She couldn't make them understand; she couldn't tell and couldn't change anything. She didn't have the ability to make them see.

Slowly, she put her headphones back in her ears and continued on her way to class. But for once, the music wasn't making her feel any better. If anything, it was clouding her thoughts and giving her a gnarly headache. For the first time in a long time, she put her music away and just listened the sounds of the city around her. But every yell from every cabbie, every mother screaming after her kid, every argument between a girlfriend and her boyfriend made Becky wince and heart race. She wanted to tap them on the shoulder and say, "Please…please stop. I can't take it. Please."

Her classes passed in nothing but static fuzz and before she knew it, she was on the train to Brooklyn almost unconsciously. The train wasn't any better. She kept seeing Alison's pale, disillusioned face on every girl that got on after Becky. Any of them could be just like her. And then the nauseating swell of pity and guilt rose up higher and higher until Becky wasn't sure if she was going to hurl or cry.

As soon as the train slid into the right stop, she hopped off and trotted down the street in the fading day. With no music to hide behind, everything was louder. Her throat and eyes grew rawer and rawer with each step. She practically ran to the lab and when she got to the door she pounded it until she thought her hand was going to bleed. It flew open of its own accord, something she'd grown used to.

"Hey Beck…" Dave called up to her. "Beck?" She could see his frown from the catwalk as she descended but only barely. The tears she'd been holding back were making their appearance finally. "Is everything okay? Wait…" he held his hands out in a gesture of panic. "Wait…where am I supposed to be? Was I supposed to meet you?"

She didn't say anything, only threw her arms around his and choked out a sob. As much as she would have liked to rationalize what was wrong, she found that she couldn't.

"Becky?" Dave wondered, winding his arms around her as well. "Beck, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, still unable to say a word. She simply pressed her cheek to his and tried to block everything else out. He let her for a while, at least until she calmed down. When she regained some control, Dave led her to the desk and sat her down.

"So…you wanna fill me in?" he wondered, his hand still in hers.

Becky let out a shuddering sigh and wiped her face with the back of her free hand. "I'm just really glad you're my boyfriend."

Dave sat back a little. "Okay. Now, I am super confused. What the hell happened today? Not that I'm not happy to hear that. I mean, I'm really glad you're my girlfriend. I just-"

Becky shook her head. "No. You don't understand."

"Becky. Seriously, I know I'm a sorcerer and all, but…" He shrugged. "I got nothing."

She sniffed. "I, uh… I ran into a girl I used to know. Back in Freshman year. We were really close. And she's different…."

"I'm still confused." Dave shook his head.

"I saw bruises, on her neck, on her wrist." Becky said aloud for the first time. "She's….broken."

Dave became very still. "What did you do?"

"I gave her my number and told her to call me anytime…." Becky could feel the tears threatening to escape again. "I should have known…" She buried her face in her hands. "God. I saw it and I didn't do anything!"

"Whoa…whoa." Dave pulled her hands away gently. "Beck, what are you talking about?"

"One night years ago, I saw her coming back with a bruise on her wrist." She swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice steady. "I didn't say anything. I never liked him…why did I let him…?

"Listen to me." Dave took both her hands in his. "You didn't let him do anything. You didn't know. It's not your fault."

Becky nodded. "Maybe she'll call."

"I'll come with you, if she does." He promised. "Call me anytime."

Becky smiled a little and got up, still a little teary and sat on his lap. She looped her arms around his neck again but first pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Like I said before: I'm really glad you're my boyfriend."

That night, Becky stayed with Dave. She didn't want to be alone and she didn't want to go out into the world either. So they ordered Chinese from his favorite place in Brooklyn and studied with Benet as if nothing were wrong. Throughout the rest of the evening and into the night, Becky didn't let go of his hand. Every so often when her thoughts would stray to Alison and how they didn't all those years ago and the guilt would rise up at it all, Dave would give her hand a squeeze and she'd be back in the present.

They were asleep on the couch when Becky's cell phone rang suddenly. Clutched in her hand, it flickered bright blue and sang until she woke up enough to answer it. "Hello?" She whispered sleepily into it when she flicked it open.

"Becky?" Alison murmured. "Becky? Can you hear me?"

As if shocked, Becky sprang up, waking Dave up in the processes. He looked around, half puzzled, half asleep. "Yeah. Alison. It's me. What's up?"

There was a soft sob on the other end. "Becky?"

"Are you all right?" Becky gripped the phone. Dave was already up, throwing on his jacket and looking for hers.

"Yeah…John…" Another teary pause. "John had a bad day at work…S-said it was my fault." Becky closed her eyes as she listened to the rest. Dave came back and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Said that if he-he didn't have to pick me up…um-He hit me so hard I blacked out.

"Alison, I-"

"I'm…at the 9th Precinct-Can…can you come pick me up?"

"We'll be there soon. Stay put." Becky promised and hung up the phone.

And so, i hope everyone who reads this, takes a moment out of their day to pray/send good thoughts/ do something for women in Alison's position. Abuse is not always as obvious as this case, or in Kaytori's message, but gender violence can be totally eliminated. It all starts and ends with us.

If you are being abused; emotionall, physically or sexually; know it's not your fault. It's never your fault. You have every right as a human being to be happy and safe and so reach out to someone anyone. Someone will be there for you.

If you know or suspect that someone may be abused please say something. YOu may not convince them that what's going on is wrong but the offer will go a long way.

Thank you for your support and I hope many other authors respond to this challange.

Lots of love

T.R.P.D