Author's Comments: It's okay, Electrikblue, as you can tell, I've been busy lately too. I haven't had time for daily updates like I used to. But I promise to keep trucking along on this story, because I'm into it.

Meanwhile, thirteen more days to go until "Surrender Benson"! Hard to believe I've written four fairly substantial-sized stories since we've been waiting, and I am working on a fifth. Just goes to show how brutal the wait has been.

Rebel in the Dark

Chapter Four

Olivia visited Jessie daily, drawn to her out of the loose sense of family for which she had always longed. Given that Simon Marsden, her half-brother who she barely knew, and Calvin, a boy who temporarily viewed her as a mother figure when she gained custody of him for a short time, were the only family she had left, she had a strange nostalgic tug in her chest toward the woman who turned out to be her only child.

She looked forward to Jamie's outbursts whenever she visited, especially the way she squealed, "Olivia! How are you, girlfriend?"

Olivia tried to question her mother about Jamie's family history, but Trisha evaded even the simplest of questions, quickly returning the subject to Jamie's health. Today, Olivia had been receiving medications for nine days, and she was prepared to donate her bone marrow the following day. Trisha stood in the hallway with her, endlessly grateful for Olivia's cooperation. "I don't know how to repay you," Trisha said. "You're saving my daughter's—our daughter's—life."

Olivia smiled and said, "Well, gotta keep the gene pool going somehow. Seriously, though, I would donate my heart to her, if she didn't have such a big one already."

Trisha looked down at the floor and blushed, saying, "I know, right?" She started to say something, and then caught her breath. Looking up at Olivia now, she said with a wavering voice, "You know how you were asking about Jessie's father?"

Olivia tried to act casual, but her heart started pounding so loud she thought Trisha might hear it. "Yeah?"

"Well, I know I told you we're divorced, but I didn't tell you much else about him," said Trisha, her eyelids turning red as if they held back tears. "That's because I didn't want you to know how abusive he was." Olivia silently gasped, and Trisha said, "To me. I'm ashamed, because he smacked me around good in front of Jessie, and I kept going back to him. I doubted that I could be a mom on my own, and he was her dad, and I couldn't take her away from him. After all, he didn't do to her what he did to me."

She got silent, as if awaiting Olivia's judgment. Olivia put on her most sympathetic face and said softly, "So what happened?"

Trisha shook her head and looked at the wall, saying, "I didn't leave until he put me in the hospital, but then I knew it had to stop. Jessie didn't need to grow up seeing that."

"How old was Jessie when you left?"

"About twelve," said Trisha, glancing at Olivia for her reaction again.

Olivia put a hand on her arm and said, "Well you did the right thing. You know the abuse wasn't your fault, right?"

Trisha nodded, and a tear wet her cheek. Just then, a noise that sounded like a combination between a scream and a grunt came from Jessie's room, turning both their heads, and a tray clattered to the floor. Olivia rushed into the room, Trisha close behind, just in time to see Jessie clamor out of bed, fists held out in front of her, ready to charge at the panic-stricken nurse looking to bolt from the room. Olivia stepped in front of the nurse to protect her from Jessie, a half-lidded scowl replacing the beaming smile usually present on her face.

Jessie bolted toward Olivia, who held out her hands defensively, not wanting to restrain the young woman and destroy the newly-formed trust between them. Jessie may have been sick, but her strength surprised Olivia as she nearly fell over backwards from the impact of Jessie's full weight against her. Jessie started to swing a fist at Olivia, who held up her arm to block. Bringing her other arm up to protect herself form Jessie's remaining fist, Olivia said gently, "Jessie, it's okay. You're safe. Take it easy."

Jessie stopped briefly to pant, replenishing the air in her lungs, and then shoved into Olivia again, alternating her feet as she kicked at Olivia's shins. One foot made contact, and Olivia suppressed a grunt as she shuffled her feet to keep out of Jessie's reach. Through clenched teeth, she repeated, "Jessie, you're safe. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Jessie closed her eyes now, and as they both caught their breath, Olivia realized for the first time that Jessie's fingernails were firmly planted into Olivia's arms, claw marks leading to their present location, leaving bloody trails on Olivia's skin. Without opening her eyes, Jessie loosened her grip on Olivia's arms, backing away from Olivia after a few seconds' rest to plant her seat firmly on the bed. Jessie twisted her fingers reflexively into strained shapes, rocking fiercely back and forth as she sat.

Olivia risked another attack and took a tentative step toward Jessie, saying, "It's okay, Jessie. I'll keep you safe."

Jessie's eyes rolled to the side, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. Olivia kneeled in front of her, ignoring the scratches on her own arms while she looked into Jessie's face. "You're safe here," she said again, hoping the message would get through with repetition.

Jessie's fingers folded into strange shapes, and Olivia knew it was a form of sensory self-soothing unique to people with autism. Jessie's mother stood by the bed, apparently willing to allow Olivia to take charge of the situation. Jessie glanced forlornly at the floor, and then began to speak. "M-m-my d-d-dad," she said, barely able to get the words out due to her sudden stutter.

"Your dad what, Jessie?" Olivia said. "Did he hurt you?"

Jessie nodded, and pointed down toward her crotch, whispering, "Down there."

Pores in Olivia's arms and the back of her neck buzzed, and she said, "What did he do, Sweetie?"

"H-he . . . pulled down my diapers, and he put his pee pee down there. It hurt," said Jessie, and Olivia was shocked more by the rage inflaming her nerve endings than she was by the revelation.

"Did he do that more than once?" she asked Jessie.

"Lots of times," said Jessie, still staring at the wall, her head tilted to the side. "Until Mommy moved us away."

Olivia sighed, catching her breath before saying, "Well, it's okay now, Jessie. He's gone, and nobody's going to hurt you anymore. I promise I won't let that happen."

But she didn't know how she could honestly make such a promise, knowing that the worm who had hurt her child still walked free.