It's such a little thing to weep,

So short a thing to sigh;

And yet by trades the size of these

We men and women die!

-Emily Dickinson

**************

"Oh my God," was the guttural moan that slipped through my lips. To be honest, it pissed me off. I was trying my best to be quiet on this particular night. Any other night I would scream, moan and groan my little head off and love every pleasuring moment of it. But not tonight. Tonight my shitty little apartment was infested with about 30 people that were either in a gang, doing runs for a gang, or were tricks for the people in the gang and doing runs for the gang, and though they knew what was going on in my room, I wasn't about to give them the pleasure of hearing me at my best.

"They can't fucking hear you," was the strained response when I stuffed my face into the pillow below me and muffled another lust filled moan. However, a second later, my face fell flat on the bed when the pillow was snatch from under me and tossed across the room. In an act of aggravation I pushed my hips back into his but instead of getting my annoyance across, I ended up letting another, louder, moan slip past my damned lips and earned a chuckle from behind me.

I guess he was right though. No matter how loud I was, I doubt anyone would hear me. Hell, I am surprised that the cops hadn't broken my door down yet. I could clearly hear the loud ass rap and occasional rock song that blasted through the very expensive sound system in the living room. I could also hear the walls thumping from the sounds of the action movie they were watching. Why they had both music and TV on was beyond me but they did and from what it sounded like, they were having a blast. Every 10 seconds or so I heard a hoot and holler from someone on the beer bong or on the bong itself, in which a loud cough would emerge through all the other sounds.

But, me being me, I was still trying to muffle my sounds because, if I knew any of them in there, they would be walking down he hallway, making up a lame excuse to go pee or puke whilst trying to get a sneak peek or hear a snippet of what was going down in the very back bedroom because if anyone knew the man behind me, they knew it would be quite a show. I'll admit that if I were an outsider, I would try to get a peek too. I heard stories before the man they were about bedded me and I was damn curious to see if they were true. Granted, I would have never in a million years tried to seduce him or flirt my way into his bed because, honestly, I was not that type of girl.

What is that type of girl, you ask? Well, that type of girl is just about every girl that lives in the vicinity of my house, the bar I work at or the one that know someone that lives in those two vicinities. That type of girl is either a junkie, a trick, a stripper or a dirty bitch that wants my man!

Woosa.

Okay, so three years ago I wasn't this possessive either but it comes with the man. You get a little territorial when your guy is the most sought after piece of meat in Boston. But back to the topic at hand.

Three years ago, I was not the woman that I am today. Three years ago, I was the last person that you would expect to the break a girl's face for winking at my boyfriend. I was the last person you'd hear cursing up a storm that would make a sailor blush all because said sought after boyfriend 'accidentally' forgot to tell his loving, trusting girlfriend that he was going to a strip club for a friend's birthday. (Said loving girlfriend happens to like strip clubs...many opportunities to break faces.)

No, three years ago I was the one who would back down from the tiniest argument and let everyone else walk on me as if I was the shit on his or her shoes. Three years ago, I was also the last person that you would find in Billy Darley's bed.

And for that simple reason, I am damn glad that I am not that same person I was or I would be missing out on the best damn sex there is. The raw and primal kind of sex that would have made my old conservative side blush furiously and stutter her words away as she ran away like a little girl.

And yes, Billy Darley made all these changes possible. Unwilling and reluctantly, at first, on my behalf.

In the midst of my internal rant, and on the verge of another earth shattering orgasm, a loud thumping sound, which was not from my bed, filled my ears. Then a familiar voice yelled, "Hurry the fuck up, man. Joe thinks he can out drink you!"

Fucking Heco, Billy is going to kill him, I thought with a grin.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him," was another strained response. And thought I was pissed that Heco had just stolen my boyfriend for at least half an hour after we were done to go kick his ass up and down the parking lot of Stokely Hall, the thrusts increased and so I was content for a little bit.

Suddenly, "Ughn, fuck!" This one caught me off guard. My toes curled, my stomach tingled and my lips parted to release the scream that was a build up of all the muffled ones from the night. I felt Billy grip my hips one last time before reaching his peak and falling next to me in the bed. That did not last long though. Just as I reached over to mold my body to his, he flipped over on his side and sat up into a sitting position.

"Jesus," I muttered. I sat up and leaned back against the headboard, watching him as he sifted through the clothes on the floor to find his boxers. "Ahh the fuck and toss. How original." For the most part, I was teasing. But the other part was dead serious and judging by his face, he knew that. And he thought it was funny.

Bastard.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Oh, how I hate that damn shit eating grin. It's nothing but trouble.

I stayed silent for a moment, letting it sink in that I really am a little annoyed with the fact that we just had sex and he's jumping up to leave me to go kick some guy's ass. How romantic and thoughtful.

His eyes narrowed as he stared back at me and pulled his boxer's up. When he finally spoke, his tone almost...almost...broke my semi-tough barrier. "You know it's not like that, Sarah."

Oh, really?

I raised a brow at him and he sighed. "Why do you always have to do this?"

Me?! Oh, the shit is flying now, buddy.

"Why do I always have to do this? Me?! Are you fucking kidding me?" I screamed, my eyes wide with my hands in the air. Now, you don't go from a scared little girl to a face-breaking bitch without gaining a major attitude. Add that to the fact that I got my attitude from Billy Darley, I was a dangerous bitch to be messing with when I was ticked off. Therefore, I might have been a force to reckon with and just might have been a little scary...if the white sheet that I had wrapped around me wouldn't have slipped off leaving me naked as the day I was born.

Oh, that damn grin again.

"Do not change the subject!" I warned weakly. But he was already stalking towards me.

It was hot. And boy, I would be lying if I said it didn't turn me on.

"Does it physically hurt you or make you ill to show me that you care? Or, hell, to even care at all? Huh? Really, what harm will come from a little emotion?" I spouted off questions as quickly as I could, hoping that one would catch his attention or at least make him stop watching me like I was his next meal.

My tactic worked. He paused at the foot of the bed and dropped his head with a sigh. With his back to me, sat on the edge of the bed and crooked a finger at me. "Come here." He patted the spot next to him. I hesitantly crawled up to him and sat next to him putting my chin on his broad shoulder.

"Do you really think that I don't care about you?" he asked softly. Oh, this is how he wore me down. He would somehow find those buried sweet feelings that he had somewhere inside that rough body and use them on me. Plain and simple, Billy as a hard ass was hot. Billy as a sweetheart was utterly sexy and would melt instantly.

So after all my working up to make him feel bad for ditching me after sex...I had to backtrack and say that I was sorry. I just love how this works.

"No, but-"

"I do care. If I didn't, I would not be here. If I didn't care, I would not have offered you a ride home that night. I wouldn't have kept Jeremy alive and I wouldn't have kept my promise to your father." The words pouring out of his mouth were full of honesty. Full of conviction. Billy Darley was a hard-core man. He was as tough as a rusty nail. Everything he did, he did with an astounding confidence and determination. Whether it was going to rob someone, kill someone or...care for someone. The latter was tougher for him to do than anything but he did. He cared for me.

Now I was feeling even worse than I was a minute ago for wanting to make him feel bad. God, this sucks.

"I'm sorry." I whispered and placed a small kiss on his neck. "I didn't mean it like that, ya know? I'm just annoyed that I didn't get to cuddle with you." I grinned at his manly snort and scooted closer to him. "Come on, you know you like cuddling with me." By the time I kissed his neck again, his arm was around my waist and I was straddling his thighs.

"I hate cuddling." his voice was saying one thing but his body was saying another. Instead of groping me, like I thought he would, he was caressing me. My back, my legs, my sides and my face felt hot under his touch. So loving, so tender. So not, what you would think this tattooed man was capable of at all. But not everyone got to see this side of him. Only me. I doubt his brother has even seen him this way.

Slowly, I pulled back from his embrace and moved off his lap. He watched me with a confused expression as I finished gathering his clothes for him.

"Go on and get dressed. Beat or cuss at who ever you need to beat or cuss at." He started to protest but I waved my hand at him. "No, do what you have to do." I smiled and walked up to him. "But when you get done, I want you back in this room for round 3. Understand?" A grin spread across his face as he leaned down to kiss my head.

"Since when do you give me orders?" he joked when he pulled away. Billy never took orders from anyone. Well, the only exception was his deadbeat father who isn't even worth the thinking time right now.

But I was special.

My hands snaked down his chest and to his boxers. "Since you invited me to your bed and got addicted to what I can do with my tongue and hands." I lightly squeezed his package while I said this and he glared at me.

"Stop." he warned. "You're letting me go without a fight. And if you don't know already, that is very rare. So don't start something that will make me late." I held my hands up in faux defense and walked away to the bathroom.

If my apartment was shitty, my bathroom was even shittier. Now I usually don't diss my apartment. It keeps me warm in the winter, cold in the summer. It is a roof over my head and has a bed for me to sleep on. However, I am a girl and I like to look good. I like to smell good and I like to keep my skin nice and healthy. So when I tell you that my bathroom is tinier than a brook closet, my mirror is broken, my sink is cracked and it leaks, my medicine cabinet is now non-existent thanks to Billy's fit of anger after finding a condom in our bathroom that was half the size of his member and that I have no space at all on my counter, you will understand why I have to take five minutes of my time and be a little bummed without feeling guilty.

I hear Billy walking out the door and look in the broken mirror, which I broke by accident eight days ago when he was late to our anniversary dinner. Note to everyone, do not throw high heels at your boyfriend when he is in the bathroom, it might hit your blessed mirror.

As weird as it sounds, I study my face. I look at the faint dark circles under my eyes from my lack of sleep, a.k.a. my sex filled nights, and the tiny scar that juts out from the outer corner of my left eye. That tiny scar takes me back through these three years. A series of memories flash in my mind. Some make me smile and others make me want to cry. So much has changed. I have changed. My life has changed. Nothing is what I thought it would be. Nothing at all.

But that does not mean I would change it. I wouldn't change my scar or find some way to erase the memories of my bruises for anything in this world. I am stronger, more confident and completely satisfied with how my life turned out. It might have been a tough three years but it was worth it.

Billy was worth it.

"Do you get the seven years bad luck or do I?"

His voice brought me out of my reverie and I looked into the mirror. His arms were wrapped around my waist and he had his chin on my shoulder, face turned so he could kiss my neck.

"It was me that broke it." I reminded me. He nodded against my neck but did not move.

"But I pissed you off." he moved his lips up my neck and to my ear. Shivers ran down my spine and I knew he felt them when he chuckled. "I love the effect I have on you."

Of course he does. He loves that he can make my knees go weak or melt me from head to toe with one glance or touch. He loves that he is the only guy I look at and want.

But I love that too.

"I love you, Billy." I whispered, not knowing if I would get a response or not.

"I know."

I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. He tried to kiss me on the lips but I moved away. He sighed and pulled back from me to lean against the wall, which left a lousy half foot between us.

"Would it kill you to say it?" I demanded. Three years and he still cannot say the freaking L word. Was he afraid it was going to kill him? Hurt him? Burn him? I really wanted to know.

While I glared at him, he glared right back. Great, he was going to stand his ground. "Say what?"

"You know what!" I screeched. Oh my God, really? Was he going to play the dumb card? "Love! Billy, love. I say it, you do not. Half the time you just walk out of the room without saying anything! I'm tired of it. I know you care but, damn, I want to hear it every once in a while."

After my little rant, I realized that he hadn't said a word while I was ranting. That is unusual. If someone yells at Billy, he yells right back and he does not wait until you are done as he just did with me. And even now, while I'm thinking about this, he's quietly staring at me.

"What?" I asked nervously. Did I piss him off so bad that he is silently steaming? Is he going to kick me out and break up with me? Billy is never this quiet.

After another moment's silence he finally spoke. "Yes."

Huh?

"Yes what?" I asked knowing I looked thoroughly confused because a small smile played at his lips.

"Yes, it just might kill me." he explained. With a frown on my face, I turned to walk away but he would not let me. "But so will caring for you." he added, which did not make me feel any better.

"What the fuck are you trying to say, Darley?" I snapped. See, the use of last names is a way to tell if we are mad at each other. I call him Darley. He calls me…

"Watch your attitude, Malone." he snapped back and gently pushed me into the bedroom. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm trying to get rid of you, right?" he asked. Mentally, I nodded and gave him a standing ovation for reading me so well. However, on the out side I stood my ground and stayed still.

"Well, I'm not." he informed me with a smirk. "If I wanted you gone, I would have done-" I could not help but to interrupt him now.

"Oh my God! I know-"

"-by now. So don't go there." he finished but I didn't.

"-that you can get rid of me if you wanted to. You don't have to tell me it every chance you get." I yelled as he glared at me. "But while you are in the mood to tell me things, how about tell me what the fuck you mean?"

"I meant what I said. Caring for ya can kill me," he said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. "It'll be the death of me."

"How in the FUCK," I screeched once more. "Do you figure that?" Again, I should be a little scary here but he was smiling at me.

"Because once Daddy Malone gets out of jail and finds out about us, which he will, he's going to kill me." A hearty laugh erupted from his lips and I knew it was my face.

My father. Oh shit!

I ran across the room to the computer on the wobbly desk in the corner. I clicked on my calendar on my desktop and clicked over one month to January 2009. My eyes skipped over my highlighted 21st birthday on January 1st and kept going through the days until I found the one that made my jaw drop.

January 9th, 2009

Daddy gets out of prison.

Pick up at jailhouse in noon.

Daddy was getting out prison. He had been in since I was 13 and, honestly, I hadn't gone to see him. We talked on the phone and through letters but that was it. He never wanted me to go see him. Some days I wanted to but others I didn't want to see my father in that prison. I never knew him to be a bad person but everyone else saw him as horrible person because he went to prison. My dad was a nice man really. Sure he had a bad attitude and he was very protective of me but-

"Oh my God." I gasped and turned to look at Billy. "He's going to murder you and go back to prison, Billy!" He nodded grimly and pointed to the computer.

"So how long 'till he gets free?" he asked. I looked back at the screen and clicked back to December.

Oh no.

"It's the 29th! We have 11 days." I groaned and let my head fall onto the keyboard.

Life was going to get very rough.

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