A/N: The "study" mentioned in this chapter is real.

Turning Tables

Goodbye, Grace Bowman

Grace kept glancing at the video camera that was staring down on her from the corner of the room. She loathed being the victim, but feeling like she was some kind of suspect in an interrogation room.

"And when did the attack happen?" asked Officer Decker, the first officer who had spoken to Grace when she had come into the precinct.

"March eighth."

"Of this year?"

"Of course!"

The officer made a notation on a paper in front of her. "It's now May fourteenth. Miss Bowman, why did you wait so long to report the assault?"

"I was scared."

Kathleen heartily nodded. "She told me she was sick that entire week. She seemed so. You can check with the school, I had her out every day."

"Please, Mrs. Bowman," Officer Decker said. "We need to hear Grace's side of the story."

"And I'm trying to tell you, but you don't seem to be taking me very seriously. I told you: Grant Volberg raped me. He tricked me into getting into my house and when I was trying to help dress the wound to his hand, he suddenly cupped my mouth and kept insisting that my current boyfriend was no good for me and that I should get back together with him."

"So you're saying that he restrained you with a wounded hand?"

"It's not impossible, if that's what you're implying."

"I'm just trying to get all the facts."

"Then yes: he restrained me despite the injury to his hand. I was terrified and I had no idea what he planned to do. The reason I broke up with him in the first place was because of his anger and jealousy. I thought he was going to hurt me…so I tried to reason with him."

The officer raised her eyebrow. "How so?"

"I tried to appease him by telling him that he was right, that I shouldn't be with Jason."

"And what did he do?"

"He asked me if I agreed to be his girlfriend again...so I lied. I said I would, but he said he wanted more than just my word." Grace turned her head away from the officer as she felt her eyes growing hot and her vision blurring up again. "He said – he said he wanted to 'make love' to me as 'proof' of my devotion to him. I said that we weren't married, but he said it didn't matter as long as we planned to get married in the future." She stared down at the table and lifted her hand to wipe her running nose and wet cheeks. "And that's when he dragged me – kicking and screaming – into my room a – a – and he did it." She looked up, her face contorted into an almost demonic scowl. "'I promise to be gentle with you,' that's what he told me. Well, you can look inside the bags I brought you to see what happened."

The officer studied Grace a while, intermittently making notes from Grace's oral report. "All right, Miss Bowman. I'm going to need you to fill out a written statement with as much detail as possible describing the attack."

"I expected as much."

"I also have to ask: where have you been the past two plus months?"

Grace chewed her lip. "San Francisco."

"Why?"

"To hide."

"From Mr. Volberg?"

"Who else would I need to hide from?"

"Why didn't you report the attack immediately?"

"I think you already asked that: I was scared of what he might do to me. That he might rape me again. Or worse."

"So you took off without telling your mother or friends?"

"Yes."

"Why San Francisco?"

"Because…because there was a support group there, for women who have been victims of sexual assault."

Officer Decker nodded. "I'm going to need the names of the members in this group."

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It's anonymous."

"Miss Bowman-"

"It's just the same as any other kind of anonymous support group, Officer. It's by invitation only and I'm not going to compromise their trust or safety."

"All right," she responded, her voice hardened. "Then please answer me this: why did you come back now? Why are you reporting the assault now, at such a late date?"

"Why now?" Grace snarled. She stood up and slammed her palms against the edge of the table, using it as a support with which to lean against and deadlock her eyes with the officer's. "Because I was a virgin before I was raped and now I'm a teen statistic: I'm pregnant with my rapist's baby!"

The pen Officer Decker was holding slipped between her fingers, rolled off the edge of the table, and landed with a plastic clatter against the waxed floor. "You're saying you're pregnant with Mr. Volberg's baby?"

"Are you deaf?"

Kathleen touched her daughter's shoulder. "Grace," she cautioned.

"I'm going to have to ask you to please sit back in your seat," the officer replied as she stood from her own. She waited until Grace complied, though only after some coaxing from Kathleen. She quickly retrieved her pen from the ground and paper from the table. "I'll have someone bring you the paperwork we need you to fill out and I will be back shortly." She paused in the doorway. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Grace continued scowling. "Yeah, there is one thing."

"Yes?"

"Justice."

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The bell above the door jangled and Ben followed the sound out to the counter where he was surprised to see his ex-girlfriend waiting for him. "Amy, what are you doing here?"

Strands of hair were stuck to the sides of her face, her cheeks were brought, she was coughing intermittently, and she looked as though she just might have run all the way across town. "H – h –" she coughed, her breath coming out in gasping pops "–have you seen the – the news?"

"The news doesn't even come on for another few hours," he replied confusedly. Ben quickly pulled open the gate behind the counter and ushered her back. He took her hand and led her down to the break room where he grabbed her a bottled water from the fridge and twisted off the cap. "Here: drink and catch your breath." He pulled out a chair for Amy and proceeded to sit down after she had. "What's on the news that's so urgent?"

Amy gulped down half the frosty Aquafina before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and pushing the bottle aside. "My dad called Ashley and I this morning. It was supposed to be our weekend with him, but he cancelled. I figured he was just being his regular old flakey self again…but then I was watching the TV after I got home from school and I saw a commercial for this evening's news." She pressed her hand to her chest to catch her breath.

Ben leaned closer to her. "Does this have to do with-"

"Grace." Amy nodded eagerly. "Theyshowedapictureofher," she said, the words rushing out in a single breath as if they were one. "And something about 'local missing girl found' as their headline! Is it true? Has she contacted you? Has she contacted-"

"Adrian – nor I – have heard from her. Although…"

Amy looked at him expectantly.

"Although she did send Mercy a birthday gift."

"What?"

"A scrapbook. We took it to Mrs. Bowman and she took it to the police. But there haven't been any leads that we know of. Nobody's said any more to us than that."

Amy sat upright in her chair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-" Ben opened and closed his mouth. "I didn't know you ca – would, uh, I…"

"You didn't think I'd care?" Amy stood up and away from him like an animal that he'd just struck. "I thought you knew me better than that, Ben? Grace and I may not have been best friends and I may be mad at my dad for being with her mom, but that doesn't mean I'm a heartless bitch."

"I never said that!"

"Well why didn't you tell me? My god, I took the bus all the way down here and ran three blocks to tell you in person!"

Ben flinched. "I'm sorry." He stood up too. "There's nothing I can say other than I am genuinely, truly sorry."

"How long have you been sitting on this?"

"Since the night of Mercy's party. We took the information to Kathleen the next morning. There was hardly anything to go on, Amy: just Grace's handwriting and a stamp from the postal service indicating it had been mailed in San Francisco."

"Three days," Amy replied, her head shaking. "It makes sense. I've barely heard from my dad at all since the party. He must know what's going on."

"He knew about the package."

"I guess I'll be stopping by his apartment then, won't I?"

Ben reached out to touch her shoulder, only for Amy to shrug him away. "Let me go with you."

"You're working," she said bluntly. "Besides, I think-"

"I want to go with you," he insisted. "My dad would understand."

"Wouldn't you rather go with Adrian?"

Ben shook his head. "That's just it: I don't want to say anything to her until I know whether or not this is true. She's already beating herself up over Grace enough as it is and I don't want to get her hopes up if this is one of those misleading news headlines."

"She doesn't watch the news, I take it?"

"She reads more than she watches television."

"Oh."

Ben grabbed another cold water for himself from the fridge. "Why don't you go wait for me out front? I'm going to let Bunny know I'm leaving early and then I'll call my driver."

Amy sighed, not completely satisfied with Ben's proposal, but she nodded nevertheless. "Fine."

"Thank you." He watched her grab her bottle and leave the break room. He slugged down his own water and felt the insides of his chest growing cold as it snaked its way down to his stomach. Ben realized his hand was shaking and he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard was real: had his and Adrian's lead helped to locate Grace? It seemed impossible. Had Grace come back to town on her own? He tossed his empty water bottle into the recycle bin as he headed off to Bunny's office, his head pulsating with questions.

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A persistent ring emanated from Adrian's purse. She dropped it into a cement corner and fished around for her phone. "Hello?"

"Adrian, where are you?" Cindy's voice demanded. "You should've been here over an hour ago!"

"I know," Adrian replied emotionlessly. "I just needed some time."

"For what? I know I told you that I have plans this evening."

"I'll be home in time."

"Why didn't you call me?"

Adrian scowled. "I was busy, okay?" She gripped the sides of her cell phone in frustration. "I'll be home shortly!" She turned off her phone and threw it haphazardly back into her purse. With the distraction out of the way, the Latina returned her attention to the skyline in front of her. It was the skyline she remembered staring at the night she'd lost her virginity to Antonio.

She sighed and sank to her knees in front of the ledge. The summer program and scholarship papers were sitting by her knees. The last time she'd visited the rooftop had been nearly a year-and-a-half ago, in October 2008. Adrian had felt just as frustrated then as she did now and then, as now, she didn't have anyone to talk to about it. The confliction she was feeling needed to be eased away with a best friend, not a boyfriend, not the father of her child, and the only two best friends she'd ever had were both gone.

A part of her felt somewhat guilty, like it was sacrilege, to come back to a place so sacred to her and her first love and childhood best friend when she was now in a committed relationship with the father of her daughter. On the other hand, she felt she didn't have any other choices left, and at the end of the day, Antonio had always been a notoriously good listener. She held up her folder.

"Do I even have to ask what you'd tell me to do?" she asked against the afternoon breeze. "Probably exactly what my mother and Ben want me to do. Thinking back, you always did side with my mother, didn't you?" She laughed and sniffled at the same time. "I guess things just sounded better coming from your mouth, especially when you were holding my hand when you said them." She wrapped one arm around her stomach and tried to imagine Antonio sitting beside her; his arm there, instead of hers. "I wish you could meet her, Antonio. I think Mercy would like you." She tapped one of her manicured nails against the folder. "Answer me this: why is it that summer always comes along and messes with my life?"

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Ricky laid awoke on top of his head with his pillow over his face. His eyes snapped open against the pillowcase when he heard a knock from his door and he lifted the pillow just enough to reveal his mouth. "Who is it?"

"Company!"

Ricky rolled his eyes at the sound of Heather's voice. "Come in." He heard the door open and then footsteps that stopped beside his bed. He waited and sure enough he felt his pillow being pulled up from his face. He didn't resist and once it was up he saw Heather's face smiling down at him. "Hi."

"Yo Misery," she said, shoving him over so she could flop down beside him on his bed. "You're a miserable host." She tossed his pillow over his side of the bed.

Ricky cracked a small smile. "It's in the job description."

Heather laughed and ribbed him. "So what gives?" she asked. "Why weren't you at school today?"

"I didn't feel good."

"Playing hooky?"

"Not exactly."

Heather rolled over and propped her head up against her hand. She studied his face and frowned. "You've been upset."

"How do you –"

"Your eyes are all bloodshot," she said bluntly. "And your eyelashes are matted."

Ricky turned his head away, suddenly feeling too exposed and vulnerable. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough," Heather shrugged. She leaned forward and rested her pointed chin in the curve of his side just above his hip. "But I'm not leaving."

"I didn't expect you would," he sighed.

"Can I guess?"

"No."

"I see." The redhead rested her hand on his hip and began to strum her fingers. "Well, I'm going to sit in here and turn on your television until you have something better to do." She sat up and grabbed his remote control from the night stand. "Don't even fight me about it either because I'm bored as fuck and I'm feeling way crampy today so for that reason alone I will win should you choose to take me on."

"So noted." Ricky rolled over and grabbed his pillow from the floor. He pressed it back to his face and remained silent as he felt Heather wriggling around beside him, making herself comfortable and him not so. Then he heard her clicking the buttons on the remote before finally settling on what he identified as the sounds of 16 & Pregnant. He wasn't so sure she should be watching it, but then he realized that maybe he was as much the company to her misery as she was to his.

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"They're treating you as if you're the one responsible for this!" Kathleen shouted. They were once again at home, in the familiarity of the kitchen.

Grace nodded. "It's expected. I heard enough people in group tell me about their experiences after they reported their rapes. I should've been ready for it, but somehow I wasn't."

"How can anyone possibly be ready for something like this?"

Grace stared down at the table top. "You're right," she sighed. "You can't."

The microwave beeped and Kathleen quickly pulled out a bowl of broccoli with melted cheddar cheese. She grabbed two forks and carried the hot ceramic dish over to the table with an oven mitt. She handed one fork to her daughter, but as Grace began to stab at and chew the yellow covered greens, Kathleen just stared at her.

When it finally occurred to Grace that her mother wasn't eating, she lifted her head and stared back. "What?"

"I just…" Kathleen reached out her hand, touching Grace's shoulder. She moved her hand up to the short curls around her daughter's shoulders. "I wasn't prepared for this. Of all the things I thought had happened to you…" Her eyes glistened in the fluorescent lights. "You look so different."

"I am different." Grace set her fork into the bowl and touched her mother's fingers.

"Why did you cut your hair? You used to love it long. I remember," she smiled fondly, "you used to cry every time I'd take you to the hairdresser's to get it trimmed. You thought they were going to make you go bald."

Grace twisted the ends of her hair. Her left eye twitched and head jerked very lightly.

"Gracie?"

Grant's fingers raked through her hair. "You're so beautiful, Grace!"

"Stop. Stop, please stop!"

Grant grabbed a handful of Grace's hair, holding her head still. "I love you, Grace. Tell me you love me too."

Grace pushed her mother's hand away. "Did you know that in a study on rapists, the majority of those interviewed said that they will go after a woman with long hair or a ponytail or a bun over someone with short hair? It's easier to grab onto and use as a weapon of control."

Kathleen's hand dropped into her lap. "I didn't know."

Grace lifted her shoulders up and down. "Now you do."

Kathleen swallowed uneasily. "It looks – nice."

Grace swallowed. "When I got it cut, I was thinking of you. I – I tried to get them to trim it like yours. Which is kind of ironic now, since I see that yours has grown out since I last saw you."

Kathleen unconsciously touched her hair. "Yeah, I guess I've been too focused on everything else to think about getting it trimmed lately."

Grace nodded. "I donated mine," she said. "They'll make a wig out of it for someone with cancer. I figured that at least one good thing could come out of everything that's happened."

"Speaking of everything that's happened…" Kathleen's eyes moved to Grace's abdomen.

The teenager touched her stomach. "I don't want to talk about that right now."

Kathleen nodded. "When you're ready."

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready." Grace pushed the bowl of cheese and broccoli over to her mother. "I'm not that hungry anymore," she said. She stood up and moved to the door and peeked behind the curtain. "I need to go out."

"Out?" Kathleen leaned forward as though to stand up, then shifted uneasily in her chair. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No, but I need to see someone."

"I don't think you should go alone."

"I can't keep letting him rule my life, Mom. The Grace that got raped and ran away from her life is gone. I've bid my farewell to her. I'm here now and I need to go make amends."

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"What are you two doing here?" George asked, stopping abruptly when he entered his apartment to find Ben and Amy sitting on his couch.

"Waiting to talk to you," Amy said, holding up her key to his apartment.

"About?"

"Grace," Ben said, cutting to the chase.

"You know something, don't you?"

George shrank back. "I don't know anymore than you."

"You were a better liar when you were cheating on Mom," Amy shot back.

"Please, Mr. Juergens. Amy said they're airing a story on the news tonight about Grace being found. You have to tell us what you know. Is she back?"

George pulled out a chair at his circular dinner table and dropped into it. He looked exhausted and gray and small. "She's back," he nodded. "But I can't tell you anymore than that. It's not my place."

"Dad, come on!"

George shook his head. "No." He stood. "It's not my place. If you want to know what happened, you'll have to talk to Grace. I don't even know the whole story, I haven't seen her myself. And frankly, right now would not be a good time."

"Why not?"

George ignored her and picked up his phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Anne, hi, it's –" he winced "–I have Amy over here right now and I wanted to know if you were home so I can come drop her off."

"Dad!"

George held up her hand. "That'd be great. Bye." He pointed at the clock. "Your mom says she just got off and she's on her way over here."

Amy shook her head. "She never gets off this early."

George looked to Ben. "Do I need to call your father too?"

"No," Ben sighed. "My driver's still out front." He looked pitifully at Amy. "I should go."

Amy threw her hands into the air and walked out. A moment later the sound of the bathroom door slammed.

Ben bowed his head. "I'll see you later, Mr. Juergens." With each step towards the door, he felt nausea taking hold of him. He was already late meeting Adrian and he wasn't sure what he was going to tell her when he got there.

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As much as she had been dreading her talk with Ben, Adrian was beginning to grow worried that he hadn't shown up yet, nor texted or called to tell her he'd be working overtime as usual. She sat at the kitchen table with her laptop on and her textbook open at her side, but her word document only had her name, date, and class information so far because she couldn't seem to concentrate. Her eyes kept drifting to the time on the corner of her screen and then to Mercy, who was playing in her playpen. She was about ready to pick up the phone and call the butcher shop when she heard a knock at the door.

Adrian bounced up from her chair and bolted for the door, silently thanking the universe that Ben was finally there. "Took you long enough!" she yelled as she unlocked the top lock, followed by the bottom lock, and then twisted the door handle. "You were really beginning to worry me th –" She stopped abruptly, staring at the face in front of her. It was decidedly not Ben's. For a moment, she even thought she was hallucinating. Or dreaming. "G-Grace?"

"I know you probably hate me by now, but please…hear me out."