She made a beeline for the nearest bathroom, careful not to knock into anyone as she wove in-between teenagers holding large plastic cups and beer bottles, praying he wouldn't make a scene. A bathroom downstairs would have been preferable, but that would take longer to reach, and she needed to get somewhere safe.

The fifteen-year-old darted into a spacious bathroom, all but slamming the door behind her. Making sure the door was locked, Kensie whispered a quick spell to provide an extra barrier before backing up to the furthest wall and sinking down onto the cold tile, mentally scolding herself for the choices she'd made that night. She'd only wanted to go out with her friends for a few hours. Kensie had told Damon she was headed to the mall with Morgan, that maybe they'd see a movie. She hadn't been lying then. It wasn't until she was in the car that she found out their chauffer, Morgan's brother Felix, had other ideas. There was a party being thrown by one of his college buddies, and he needed to make an appearance. He had no qualms dragging along his sister and her friend.

Kensie knew she should have just called Damon or someone to pick them up, but she'd figured she could wait around for a few minutes, and then talk Morgan into leaving. So, while Morgan and Felix mingled, Kensie found a seat and watched the people around her. After having five different high school and college guys, in different stages of inebriations, hit on her, Kensie had decided to take a mini tour of the house to pass the time.

She'd been checking out the rec room on the second floor when she realized one of the guys had followed her. He hadn't seemed like a threat at first, and she'd tried to maintain polite conversation as she figured out a way to return to the crowd, but things had rapidly turned ugly.

Just thinking about it made her heart pound and her palms sweat. Trying to muster a calming breath, Kensie fished out her cellphone and dialed the first number that came to mind.

"Hello?"

"Caroline?" she asked, hating that her voice shook.

"Kensie? What's wrong?"

"C-can you come get me?"

"Where are you?" Caroline demanded, though without an ounce of sternness. Kensie found it a little comforting; she was sure she couldn't deal with anyone scolding her just then. She rattled off the street address, thankful she was coherent enough to remember.

"I'm going to call Damon and…"

"NO!" Kensie shrieked. She couldn't face Damon or deal with his inevitable disappointment and anger. "Don't tell Damon. Please."

"Kensie, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

"J-j-just come get me… p-please?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Those ten minutes were torturous. Kensie stared at the door, half expecting her magic and the lock to fail, waiting for the door to inevitably open. Every time the handle shook from someone attempting to open it, Kensie jumped a little. She'd glance at her phone every so often to check how much time had passed, hoping that the closer she got to ten minutes, the less frantic she'd feel. If Caroline said ten minutes, she'd be there in ten minutes.

At just over nine minutes, Kensie's phone rang. She hurried to answer it. "Caroline?" she breathed, hoping there wasn't some sort of delay.

"I'm outside. I can't go in without being invited. Where are you?"

"Upstairs bathroom…" Kensie murmured. She didn't like the idea of having to walk from that bathroom to the front door. She might run into him again. Glancing around the bathroom, her gaze rested on a modest window. "Hold on." Pushing herself to her feet, Kensie inspected the window. Much to her relief, it opened. "I'll be out in a minute," she told Caroline before abruptly hanging up the phone and stuffing it in her purse. Carefully, she maneuvered herself on top of the toilet so she could lift one leg through the window. The other leg followed, and she shifted around so she could ease out backwards. Holding onto the windowsill with all of the strength she possessed, she glanced down and over her shoulder for anything she could use to climb down instead of merely jumping. "Damn it," she muttered. She was going to have to let go and hope she didn't do anything worse than sprain something.

Closing her eyes, Kensie counted to three in her head before loosening her grip and falling backwards. She waited for the inevitable landing (and subsequent pain), but it never came. Instead, she felt something catch her behind her back and under her knees. Opening her eyes, she stared at Caroline in surprise.

"Jumping out of a second story window? Have you lost your mind, Kensie?" Caroline demanded as she set the teen on the ground. Once the shock wore off, though, Caroline took a closer look at Kensie and frowned. Her lip was cut and she had a nasty bruise on her cheek. "What happened?"

Kensie shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it. I just want to go. Can I stay at your place tonight? Damon won't have a problem with it."

"He probably wouldn't," agreed Caroline, "but I'm taking you home anyway."

"Caroline…"

"Something clearly happened, Kensie, and Damon needs to know about it. Come on. My car is out front." She moved to drape an arm around Kensie's shoulders, but the teen jumped and unconsciously took a step away.

Caroline's concern quadrupled in an instant. "Come on," she repeated in a much gentler tone, though she made no move to touch Kensie again. She let Kensie take the lead around the house, staying beside her the entire time, and down the driveway to the car.

Wordlessly, Kensie opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. She had a handful of minutes to figure out how to get past Damon when she got home, and Kensie seriously doubted it was even possible. She expected Caroline to just get in the car and start driving, so when the older teen started the car but left it in park, Kensie turned to her, anxiety soaring. Caroline wasn't a threat, but being inside such a small space felt much more uncomfortable than usual.

"Why aren't we going?"

Caroline sighed. She seemed to be deliberating what to say. "Before we go anywhere, I need to know if you're hurt."

It was a loaded question and Kensie knew it. Caroline had seen her react to being touched; with her vampire senses, she'd certainly noticed Kensie's face, even in the dark of the night. She'd probably come to a conclusion or two.

Answering Caroline's question completely would require volunteering information Kensie wasn't ready to divulge.

Though it hurt to do so, Kensie shook her head. "Nothing requiring immediate medical attention," she said.

It was clear Caroline wasn't the least bit satisfied with that answer, but after a moment, she relented and backed up the car enough so she could pull out onto the road.

Thankfully, the drive home was silent. Caroline didn't press the subject further, and Kensie had no intention to volunteer anything in the meantime. Kensie was beginning to feel very tired, but she refused to close her eyes for even a moment.

Sooner than Kensie would have liked, Caroline turned off of the road and onto a long driveway. As the car pulled up in front of the boarding house, Kensie could see Damon standing in the doorway. It didn't matter that she couldn't clearly see his face in the dark; she couldn't face him. Panicking, she slid down in the seat as much as she could within the constraints of her seatbelt. She felt Caroline's eyes on her, but she couldn't manage a coherent thought, much less a coherent sentence.

Caroline parked the car. Kensie made no move to remove her seatbelt.

"I'll be right back," Caroline said softly as she opened her door. Not waiting for any sort of acknowledgement, she walked up to Damon.

Somewhere in the jumbled thoughts of her mind, Kensie wished she could hear what they were saying. The conversation didn't take terribly long, but it appeared whatever Caroline had told him, Damon wasn't thrilled. After a moment, Damon turned to walk into the house, and Caroline approached the passenger side of the car.

"You told him," Kensie realized, the accusation clear in her voice. Why else would Damon have already been waiting for her when she wasn't due home for another hour? The panic swelled inside her, tightening her chest.

"I told him I was going to pick you up," the blonde admitted. "I didn't tell him why, though, and I didn't tell him where you were. Come on. Damon's going to go for a drive and we're going to talk for a bit." Proving her point, Damon walked out the front door once more and strode toward the garage.

Kensie watched Damon disappear in the shadows before inching her hand to the buckle to unfasten her seatbelt. Caroline took a few steps back, and Kensie slid out of the seat. Closing the door, Kensie half-shuffled up to the house, staying by Caroline's side, her eyes darting around in an attempt to remain aware of her surroundings. Part of her knew it was irrational; if Caroline said Damon was going for a drive, then he was going for a drive, and any immediate threats from the party wouldn't have been able to follow her home. Regardless, Kensie couldn't help herself.

Once inside, Kensie headed for the sofa, claiming one end as she curled herself up in the corner, knees pulled to her chest. Despite the unusually warm spring evening, she shivered involuntarily.

"Are you cold?" Caroline asked with a frown. She grabbed a throw blanket from one of the armchairs and gently draped it over Kensie's shoulders. Lowering herself onto other end of the sofa, giving Kensie some room while still remaining close by, she watched the younger teen pull the blanket tighter around her.

Kensie lifted her eyes to meet Caroline's concerned gaze. "I told you I don't want to talk about it."

"I know," Caroline told her. "We can't not talk about it, though. I can tell that something is seriously wrong, and I'm really worried about you."

"I'm…" The word 'fine' caught in Kensie's throat. She wasn't fine, and she could bring herself to say that she was, no matter how much she wanted to.

Caroline nodded in understanding. "I need to ask you a question," she said, her voice still gentle. "I need you to answer it honestly. Do you understand?"

She really didn't want to, but Kensie had a feeling she wasn't going to get out of it. Slowly, she nodded her head to indicate agreement.

It took Caroline a moment to speak, as if she was struggling find the words. "Were you raped?"

Kensie stared at Caroline for several long seconds before slowly shaking her head. It was the truth. She'd managed to break free before it'd reached that point, but she had no doubt that it would have happened had she not escaped. Subconsciously she pulled her legs closer to her chest.

"But you were assaulted."

It wasn't a question, and Kensie didn't bother to ask Caroline how she knew. One look at her face was probably enough. Kensie still hadn't bothered to check her reflection, not even when she'd hidden in the bathroom before, but she'd tasted blood on her lip earlier and her face was sore. Her cheek in particular throbbed. Even so, she didn't respond to the statement.

A small sigh escaped Caroline's lips. "I can see your cheek and your lip. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"It's nothing," Kensie murmured.

"I didn't ask whether or not you thought it was serious," Caroline pointed out gently. "I asked if you're hurt anywhere else."

She didn't want to answer. Acknowledging the physical reminders of that night made her feel like she was living it all over again. There was no way she'd be able to hide them forever, though. The weather was too warm to wear long sleeve shirts or hoodies until all of the evidence disappeared. Kensie inched one arm out from beneath the blanket to carefully touch the back of her head. As her fingers came in contact with a bump, she winced. "I hit my head," she admitted, well aware that it wasn't the only injury Caroline was about discover.

Kensie knew the moment Caroline's eyes spotted the small, round bruises freckling her arm. The other arm, still hidden beneath the blanket, had similar marks, but Caroline didn't need to see that.

Shifting towards Kensie, Caroline reached for the teen's hand. Kensie flinched a little, but didn't object. Caroline cradled Kensie's wrist, her eyes studying every mark. After nearly a minute, Caroline set Kensie's hand in her lap. "Can I take a look at your head?"

"Okay."

Caroline stood, moving to stand behind Kensie. With just as much care, she combed away the girl's hair so she could see how bad it was. At the sight of the bump, crusted with a bit of dried blood, Caroline sighed. She resumed her spot on the sofa, gathering her thoughts before she spoke. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I think you should report this."

"No."

"Kensie, whoever did this needs to be held accountable. He shouldn't be allowed to hurt you or anyone else ever again."

"No," Kensie repeated, her voice more forceful than before. "It's nothing. I'm… I'll be…" She sighed in frustration when she still couldn't say 'fine'. "No."

It was the last response Caroline wanted to hear, but what could she do? She could report her suspicions herself, but she had a feeling Kensie would be less than cooperative if investigators came to interview her. She couldn't force the kid to talk to the cops, though. While she didn't have the full details, she had the sinking suspicion that some kid had mistakenly believed that 'no' didn't really mean 'no'. Kensie had told the truth about not being raped; Caroline could tell just from the conviction in her voice. That didn't mean that someone hadn't tried to do it.

Of course, she still had Damon to contend with when he returned. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to convince him to go for a drive. He knew Caroline had picked up Kensie and that the kid was upset. What Caroline hadn't shared was where she'd picked up Kensie or that the girl had been injured. No doubt he'd be pissed that she hadn't told him when he finally did find out. It was also doubtful he'd take 'no' for an answer when he inevitably asked Kensie what had happened.

Caroline couldn't decide how to proceed. It wasn't as if she had this kind of experience with Elena or Bonnie or even herself. Whatever she did, she wanted to help Kensie feel a little less anxious if it was at all possible. There was also that small voice in the back of her mind, driven by her vampire nature, which begged to hunt down the kid and rip his head off. She couldn't allow herself to give into that urge though. Her head needed to stay clear so she could attempt to keep Damon from giving into that urge himself.

"I'm going to get a couple of ice packs," she announced, figuring she could at least apply basic first aid. Caroline had no qualms using vampire blood to heal Kensie, but she wasn't sure it was the best course of action just then. Kensie's injuries didn't seem life threatening at the moment. "Would you like a Tylenol, too?"

"Please."

"I'll be right back." Rising from the sofa, Caroline headed for the kitchen. Meanwhile, Kensie took the opportunity to wrap the blanket back around her body, covering everything from her shoulders down. Caroline had been kind and gentle, but having the older teen examine her injuries, even if only with her eyes, left Kensie feeling exposed.

She was grateful that Damon had gone for a drive, but it was only a matter of time until he returned, and as much as she wanted to, Kensie knew she wouldn't be able to keep this from Damon. Makeup might hide any marks on her face, but Kensie couldn't picture Caroline letting her out of sight long enough to apply makeup, and Damon would smell the blood from her wounds anyway. Once he realized something was amiss, Damon would prod until he figured out what had happened. Kensie could only imagine Damon's reaction, but she didn't think it would be pleasant. She was sure he'd be mad at the boy from the party, but Kensie was also certain Damon would be angry with her for being at the party in the first place when she'd told him she was going to the movies. It was hard not to blame herself for the events that evening. If she had demanded they leave the party, if she had called Damon or Caroline immediately, if she had stayed downstairs out in the open where she couldn't be cornered… A small voice, somewhere in the back of her brain, reminded her that it wasn't her fault, but her guilt overpowered that little voice.

Caroline's prompt return broke Kensie out of her thoughts, two ice packs and a small medicine bottle in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. Kensie immediately reached for the pills and water, shaking out a single dose and rinsing it down with a large gulp of water. It was colder than she'd expected, and for a moment her head hurt worse as her body adjusted to the water's temperature. Setting down the water and pills, Kensie accepted one of the ice packs, gingerly holding it against the back of her head. There was a small towel protecting Kensie from the harsh chill of the ice, but even the slightest pressure hurt.

Kensie felt sleepy, but she forced her eyes to remain open. As much as she trusted Caroline, she had to know what was going on. Besides, if she fell asleep, her dreams might drag her back to that house. No, Kensie couldn't let that happen.

Caroline set the other pack on the coffee table, deciding it was far too big and bulky for the bruise on Kensie's cheek. She resumed her spot on the sofa, allowing a comfortable silence to envelop the room. It was obvious that Kensie didn't want to talk about what had happened, and Caroline couldn't force her to talk. Also, Damon would surely return soon, and she needed to figure out how she was going to approach him before he saw Kensie. The elder vampire hadn't been happy about being sent away from his own home, all the while being denied any details about what was going on with his kid. He'd demand answers upon his return.

Minutes later, Caroline heard the soft hum of an engine. Damon had returned. She looked at Kensie, who wouldn't have heard anything yet with her human senses. "Damon's home," she told the girl, feeling horrible at the sudden look of panic that spread across Kensie's face. "Listen, I'm going to go talk to him. I'm not going to tell him anything you told me. I'm just going to make sure he doesn't come in with guns blazing." She waited for Kensie to give a small nod before heading for the door.

She had just closed the door behind her when she found herself face-to-face with Damon.

"Wait, Damon," Caroline said quickly as she held up a hand in front of him.

"Move, Caroline," growled Damon.

Caroline's brow furrowed, the blood vessels beneath her eyes darkening in her anger. "Listen!" she demanded. When Damon didn't say anything or attempt to move past her, she continued. "You need to be calm before you go in there. I know you're confused, but you're only going to make things worse if you go in there hot-headed, demanding answers."

Damon folded his arms over his chest. "What did she do?"

"Nothing," she said softly with a sigh. "She did nothing. Just approach her gently."

More confused than ever, Damon reached for the doorknob as Caroline stepped out of the way and opened the door. He spotted the teen immediately, and took the moment to pause in the doorway to study Kensie. She was curled up against one end of the sofa, a blanket wrapped tight around her body, but Damon could see her face clearly. One cheek was bruised and her lip was swollen. It was no longer bleeding, but Damon could tell that it had at one point. From the amount of blood he smelled, he suspected Kensie had to be injured somewhere else. A pair of abandoned half-melted ice packs on the coffee table proved his point.

More than a little miffed that Caroline had kept this from him, Damon crossed the room at a superhuman speed, stopping directly in front of Kensie. The sudden movement startled Kensie; she jumped, eyes widening in fear. Kensie's reaction alarmed Damon; in the three years Kensie had lived with him, he'd never seen her react in such a way to his vampire powers, not even when she was in trouble. Something was very, very wrong.

Forcing himself to move at a human speed, Damon slowly lowered himself onto the coffee table. "What happened?" he asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he could muster.

Kensie knew outright ignoring Damon's question wouldn't bode well, and she still couldn't bring herself to say she was 'fine', despite the fact that Damon would sniff out the lie in a heartbeat. Admitting the truth wasn't an option in her mind, so Kensie opted for another tactic to downplay the situation. "It's really not as bad as it looks," she said softly.

"That isn't what I asked, Mackenzie Paige," he said, his tone lacking any of the sternness that normally accompanied the use of both names. Reaching out, Damon cupped Kensie's chin, tilting it so he could get a better view of her face. He didn't miss the way her whole body tensed. "What happened?"

She pressed her lips together, a nervous habit, and promptly winced. It seemed she'd misjudged just how much she'd hurt her lip. Determined not to admit as much out loud, she opted to shake her head in response to Damon's question. The movement reignited her headache, and this time Kensie couldn't hold back a low moan.

Damon frowned. He'd gotten no helpful information from Caroline, and now he was getting just as little from Kensie. It was becoming evident, however, that the discoloring on her face wasn't the extent of her injuries, and Kensie's reluctance to speak about it was alarming. "Where else are you hurt?"

Apparently, shaking her head wasn't an option unless she wanted a splitting headache. "No," she murmured, well aware of the reaction that little word could provoke in Damon. Kensie was willing to take the chance. She was half expecting Damon's ire once he found out where she'd been anyway.

Frown deepening, Damon turned to the only other person in the room. "You've got to give me something, Caroline," he said in frustration.

She'd been standing against a far wall, giving Kensie and Damon the opportunity to talk while still providing the girl with silent support. Pushing away from the wall, Caroline took a few steps forward and paused, sighing. "I don't know exactly what happened, Damon. Kensie didn't want to talk about it." Damon glared at the blonde in response. "She's got an impressive knot on the back of her head, and her left arm is bruised," Caroline offered. "I don't know if she's hurt anywhere else."

Damon shifted his head back to Kensie. "Let me see your arm, please."

Kensie worried about Damon's reaction to the fingerprint bruises, but now that he knew there was something there, keeping it a secret would be impossible. Like she had with Caroline, Kensie shifted her arm out from beneath the blanket without uncovering any other part of her body. She studied Damon's face intently as he held her arm, turning it with great care, his fingers exerting a surprisingly small amount of pressure on her skin.

"And your other arm?" he asked, gently setting her arm down against her knees.

It was Kensie's turn to frown. "Damon…"

"Your other arm, Kensie."

He hadn't raised his voice or scolded, but the command was clear all the same. Reluctantly the fifteen-year-old extracted her right arm from the protection of the blanket, using it to hold her knees to her chest.

As he had with the other arm, Damon reached out to lift Kensie's right arm, examining every mark that marred the typically fair skin. Without a word from Kensie or Caroline, Damon could tell exactly what had caused the small bruises that peppered Kensie's arms, and it took every ounce of control he possessed not to lose his temper. He wasn't mad at Kensie, of course, but he suspected that letting her see his anger, even if it wasn't directed at her, would only cause further harm.

Setting the kid's arm down, Damon stood. "Where are your shoes?"

The question caught Kensie off guard. "On my feet…" she said slowly. "Why?"

"We're going to the hospital."

"What?" she half-shrieked. "Damon, no."

Damon's heart broke over the terror in Kensie's eyes. Returning to his spot on the coffee table, Damon leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he met the teen's frightened gaze. "Listen to me," he said, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. "Someone hurt you. Someone held your arms so tight that they left bruises, and I'm fairly confident that the marks on your face and head aren't the result of an accident."

Kensie glanced away, unwilling to verbally acknowledge Damon was right.

Reaching out, Damon cupped Kensie's chin like he had before, this time coaxing her head around until she had no choice but to look at him. "I can't force you to tell me what happened, and I can't force you to file a report with the police. What I can do is make sure you're not hurt worse than what I'm able to see, and I can make sure your injuries are documented."

The last thing Kensie wanted was to be poked and prodded by doctors and nurses. She was still afraid of how Damon would react to the knowledge of where she'd been, but she was so determined to avoid the hospital that she was willing to take the risk. "It's my fault," she whispered, hugging her knees even closer to her chest and sparking discomfort in her torso that she hadn't felt before. Determined not to let Damon find out she might be hurt elsewhere, she did her best to ignore it.

"What's your fault?" Damon asked carefully, hoping Kensie didn't really believe it was her fault she'd gotten hurt.

"I… we didn't go to the movies," she admitted, examining Damon's expression carefully for any sign of disappointment or anger. "I thought we were, but then Felix said he had to stop by his friend's party. He made it sound like we'd only be there for five minutes, but…"

Damon shook his head. "It isn't your fault someone hurt you, Mackenzie Paige. Regardless of the choices you made, you did not deserve to get hurt. Now come on." Straightening his torso, he held out a hand to Kensie. "Let's go."

"Damon…" she whined softly, aware that the action made her sound childish.

"I'm not budging on this, kid."

Her frown deepening, Kensie tentatively reached out a hand to place in Damon's, allowing him to guide her to her feet.


Arms wrapped protectively around her torso as Kensie sat on the edge of the exam table, the hospital gown leaving her feel much more exposed than she'd like. She'd been questioned and thoroughly examined, every little scratch or bruise photographed. The doctor had cleaned up her face and the lump on her head, and now Kensie was waiting for Damon.

Moments later, the curtains parted, and Damon stepped into the small exam area.

"How are you holding up?" he asked gently.

Kensie glanced up at her guardian. "I want to go home," she whispered.

"I know." Reaching out, he gently brushed the hair from her face. "As soon as the doctor says it's okay, we'll head home. Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I want to go home now," pleaded Kensie, ignoring the question completely.

"Soon. We'll go home soon."


Damon held the door for Kensie as they entered the boarding house. "Go on upstairs and get changed into your pajamas. I'll be up soon."

She eyed the stairs with apprehension. Damon would surely know if there was someone else inside the house, especially a human, but Kensie still didn't want to go anywhere alone. She couldn't explain to Damon why she didn't want to be alone, though, so putting one foot in front of the other, she slowly made her way up to the second floor and into her room.

Kensie turned on every possible light and looked in the bathroom and every other crevice someone could possibly hide before finally moving to the dresser to pull out some clothes. Despite it being May, she opted for a pair of sweatpants and a heavy sweatshirt instead of the pajamas she'd worn the past few nights. Her arms and torso sore, her face and head quite tender, she moved slowly as she undressed and pulled on her makeshift pajamas. A pair of socks followed, and finally, Kensie took a seat on top of her bed.

A gentle knock on the door alerted Kensie to Damon's presence seconds before the door swung open. Damon paused in the doorway before moving to the side of her bed. He said nothing about her attire, but he did reach out to press the back of his hand to her forehead, just to make sure she wasn't getting sick.

"I'm not going to push you to talk about what happened," he said gently as he took a seat on the edge of the bed so he was at her eye level. "I want you to know that any time you decide you're ready to talk, I'm here to listen."

Kensie sighed. "I'm sorry, Damon."

"What are you sorry for?"

"For going to a party instead of to the movies like I'd said I would."

Damon shook his head. "I'm not upset with you, Kensie. I know it wasn't your decision to go to the party instead of straight to the movies. Would I have preferred you called Caroline or me right away? Sure, but I know you weren't being deceitful when you asked for permission to go to the movies with Morgan." He patted her leg. "Go ahead and slide under the covers."

Kensie shifted so she could slide her legs under her comforter, curling up on her side to keep pressure off the back of her head. The last thing she wanted was to be alone, but she didn't want Damon to think she was acting babyish. As Damon stood and moved to turn off the all the lights save for one low lamp in the far corner, Kensie felt her anxiety skyrocket. "Damon…"

"You won't be able to sleep with all of those lights on," he told her, moving back to the edge of her bed, sitting near her hip. His hand reached out to rub her back. "You're safe. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," Kensie murmured with a sigh of relief.

"You're welcome. Just rest."