Rain was hammering down on the house that four young men shared by the beach. The waves out back crashed on the shore and the wood on the deck creaked. It was much more calm inside where the young men, all aged somewhere in between nineteen to twenty-four lived. They were all lying in various places; the floor, the couch, even the kitchen table. "Ya know, this is really depressing," spoke the one on the couch. He was very tall and thin, wearing a plaid, button-down shirt and jeans, a green wool cap on his head with his dark brown hair peeking out from under it. He stared up at the ceiling with his large dark eyes.
"Then sit up and do something Mike, you're the smart one," said one of the two younger men. He was tall, not but not as tall as his roommate, Mike. He had the same color hair and eyes, except his hair was very thick and curly. He had a far-out look on his face as he watched the rain pouring out the window.
"Way for you to talk, Mickey," said Mike, propping himself up. "What're you doing over there?"
"Nothin' but who are any of us to give anyone a hard time for that?" asked the youngest of the four in a thick Manchester, England accent, who was on the floor. He was very short and stocky, with dark hair just like the other two, with his chocolaty brown eyes set underneath think eyebrows. He, like the others, was very good-looking, but this one had a teen-idol vibe coming out from him. "We haven't had a job in weeks…I mean…maybe the least we can do is practice."
"Good idea Davy," said Mickey. "Where's Peter at?"
"Over here," rose a voice from the lanky body lying on the kitchen table. The three, Mike, Mickey, and Davy looked over in that direction. The man, Peter, sat up on the table. His long legs dangled down onto the floor, making him look rather silly. His hair, in contrast to his dark-haired friends was a dirty blond, very straight and a bit longer than the others. His eyes were a honey color, and were very big and sweet. He had a bit of an absent-minded expression on his face, but that was probably because he had fell asleep on the kitchen table.
"Pete, why the hell did you sleep on the table?" said Mickey.
"Well where else would I have slept?" asked Peter back. "I can only sleep in my bed at night, it just doesn't seem right!"
"Whatever Pete," said Mickey.
"Come on guys, get your instruments and let's practice…" said Mike. "Not that a gig or anything exciting's gonna happen anytime soon or anything anyway…"
If it hasn't been figured out yet, the men, Mike, Mickey, Davy, and Peter, were in a band. They, for whatever reason, called themselves, "The Monkees."
"Come on now Mike, don't say that," said Peter, strapping his bass guitar around his shoulders. "When can you tell if anything's gonna happen anyway?"
Mike was about to retort but Davy cut in, "Don't ruin his blissful ignorance, it's bad for his health." Mike chuckled and picked his guitar up. All four Monkees were set for practice when a loud knocking sound, out of nowhere erupted throughout the house.
Mickey jumped out of his skin and shouted "That wasn't me, was it?" as he searched around and in his drumset.
"It was probably just thunder guys, let's focus," said fatherly Mike. But, just as soon as they were getting ready to play again, the sound came back, this time accompanied by shouts.
"Let me in!" came the muffled cry from outside the door.
"Oh my God, someone's out there!" shouted Davy, rushing over to the front door. "It's storming out guys, we have to let 'em in!"
"Now hold on just a minute," said Mike, coming over with the others. "How do you know the person out there is safe to let in?"
"Don't worry so much," said Davy, opening the door after more knocking and shouting.
"Well finally!" came an agitated, terrified-sounding voice from the doorway above the sound of the rain. The men inside caught sight of who was outside and were aghast.
A young woman, about nineteen stood just inside the doorway, drenched in rain. Her hair looked like it would be a dark, rusty red color when dry. It was past her shoulders, not quite to the middle of her back, and very thick and curly. She had bangs that went across her forehead and rested above her large, brown eyes. She was a small young woman, and she looked very scared.
"Woah, woah, let's get her inside!" said Mike frantically. The girl was lead inside, shivering and shaking. "Peter, get her a towel, she's soaking wet." Peter did not, however, run off to get the girl a towel, but stood transfixed, gazing. Never before had he seen anyone like her, so delicate, beautiful although somewhat rain-damaged. He bet that once she dried up she'd be too beautiful for words.
"Pete!" shouted Mike, Mickey, and Davy at the same time.
"Oh, right," said Peter, bashful and blushing, slinking off to the bathroom to grab a towel. When he came back a couple seconds later, the other three men were circled around the girl.
"Back," said Peter. "Sorry about that miss."
"That's ok," said the girl, still seeming distant as she took the towel a still blushing Peter handed to her. She silently wrapped it around her shivering body.
"Do you need anything else?" asked Peter, surely smitten by now.
"Do you have anything to drink? Something hot?" she asked.
"I can whip you up a nice English cup 'o tea sweetheart," said Davy being...well…just Davy, wink and all.
Instead of how most girls responded to Davy Jones, with a giggle and a smile, with the option of stars in her eyes, the girl wrapped in a towel on his couch in his apartment just gave him a stony look with her dark eyes and said, "I have a name sir…and it's Cara, not 'sweetheart'."
Davy looked stunned at the absolutely-not-charmed young woman. "Oh…ok then…Cara…I'll have that tea out for you." He plodded over to the kitchen, looking and feeling rather crestfallen.
"The hell's his problem?" asked Cara.
"Oh, he's just not used to being turned down," said Mickey. "Must say, I'm proud of you."
"So what's your story?" asked Mike.
"I don't wanna tell it twice, I'll wait till Casanova in the kitchen comes back," said Cara. "What are your names by the way?"
"Well, I'm Mike," said Mike. "Davy's 'Casanova in the kitchen', fuzzy over here is Mickey—"
"—Hey!" shouted Mickey.
"And I'm Peter," said Peter in just about the dreamiest voice anyone in the room had ever hear him speak. His eyes were aglow and his dimpled smile ten miles wide.
"Nice to meet you all, I guess, under the circumstances," mumbled Cara.
"What circumstances?" asked Davy as he was bringing over the tea.
"Well, now that Casanova's back, I can tell the story," said Cara, ignoring Davy's taken-aback look. "I'm on the run."
"What did you do?" asked Davy, looking scared now. What was this girl going to do if he hit on her one more time?
"Well, it's not anything I did," she said. Davy looked immediately relieved. "It's about my boyfriend." Both Davy and Peter looked a hilarious mixture of let down and scared.
"What's wrong with him?" asked Mike.
"Uhg, where do I start?" said Cara, clutching her head. "He's extremely jealous for one, sees me glance at another guy for even a second and he'll go off at me. Bossy and lazy, always telling me what to do. He never does anything by himself, and if I don't do what he wants…" she trailed off for a moment, but started up again. "He never lets me out, not even to see a friend. He doesn't trust me and he's just…horrible…" It was then that Peter, who had not taken his eyes off her since the moment she came in through the door, noticed several bruises, some in the shape of a gripping hand, all over her arms. He winced and reached out to touch her gently on the shoulder, just to show her that a man was capable of being gentle. Upon his touch, she jumped and flinched, but relaxed when she realized…Peter's hand was not the hand of her abuser.
"What is this asshole's name then?" asked Davy. "Cause I'll rip him limb, from limb, from limb…" all the while making tearing motions with his arms.
Cara made a sound that was meant to be a laugh, but instead came out as a dry croak. "I wouldn't, he's a big guy…muscles on his muscles, He'd beat you and anyone here to a pulp."
"Why'd you show up here of all places?" asked Mickey.
"You guys were the first house I came to when I was far enough away. I would've tried farther, but it started storming and I needed to get inside somewhere," said Cara. "I really didn't have a choice. I don't wanna get you all mixed up in this though."
"Do you want to wait till it stops raining and we'll drive you over to a farther place?" asked Peter, not wanting to be rid of Cara, but willing to do anything to make sure she was safe and far away from her horrible boyfriend.
Cara shook her head. "No, I can't risk leaving anywhere while I'm here. I shouldn't be out for a long time." Peter was instantly relieved that she would stay.
"Ya think he'll find you?" asked Davy, sounding terrified again.
"I don't wanna risk it," said Cara. "This man's ruthless."
"Whatever you think you should do," said Mike. "We'd be honored to open up our home to keep you safe ma'am."
"Are you sure it won't be a problem?" asked Cara.
"Not at all!" said Peter. "I can't think of a safer place for you to be right now anyway! We're big, strong men!" The four of them comically flexed their "muscles."
Cara attempted a giggle again. "You would think that, wouldn't you? If Jeff finds out I'm staying with other men…well…all I can say is you'll have to run for it."
"Ew, so that thing has a name, does it?" said Davy, trying to put the charm on again. "Well don't worry, we're better than ya think." He put a hand on Cara's shoulder.
"You better switch the charm off, Casanova or you'll be switched off," she said, eyeing him dangerously.
"Well ya didn't seem to care when Peter touched your shoulder," said Davy, smirking.
"Hands off," said Cara through gritted teeth.
"Yes ma'am…" said Davy quickly, jerking his hand away.
"Don't worry about Davy," muttered Peter to Cara. "We'll talk to him." But what Peter really wanted to do now was smack Davy so hard he's fly across the room. That was no way to treat a girl who'd been on the run from an abusive man!
"He's harmless, just annoying, I think of all people here I'd be able to tell," said Cara. She looked up at all four men. "Thanks by the way, all of you, including Casanova. It means a lot and if he finds out where I am…well…I'll do my best to keep you all out of trouble."
"No problem," said the four Monkees.
"When are you gonna stop calling me that?" asked Davy.
"When you stop acting like it," said Cara.
"Good luck with that," said Mickey. "Man, what time is it? I can't tell day from night in this weather."
Mike checked his watch. "It's round 10:30 right now. Maybe we should get some sleep. Cara, is the couch okay or would you prefer to swap with one of us?"
"Couch is fine," she said. "And thanks again."
"Don't mention it," said Mike. "There are blankets and pillows right over there. Come on guys, let's get upstairs." Mike, Davy, and Mickey made their way up the stairs and to their rooms, but Peter stayed behind with Cara.
"You sure you're gonna be okay down here?" he asked.
"I'll be fine," said Cara. "You're Peter, right?"
"Yup!" said Peter, a large grin on his face. She remembered his name!
"Alright then…good night, Peter," said Cara.
"Night Cara," said Peter, suddenly feeling lighter. He didn't take his eyes off her as he walked upstairs to his room. Mike was still in the hallway as Peter walked through. "What a girl," said Peter to Mike.
"Seems nice…just be careful, don't fall for her to hard, it could be dangerous," said Mike. Peter nodded quietly as he went off to his room, but he knew it was too late for that. He knew as he drifted off to sleep that there was something special about Cara, and abusive boyfriend or not, well…he just did not care.