Chrissy sat on the sofa, her knees curled up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. Gene sat across from her. He hadn't said anything since

Alex had left. He'd poured them a drink each, put Chrissy's on the coffe table that stood in the middle of both of them and then sat on the arm chair facing

her. Taking a drink, his eyes stayed on Chrissy's face. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited out the different emotions that were flashing across his face. He'd gone to see 'her'. What had she told him? Watching his face she waited for the disapointment, the disgust, the hatred, the repulsion that she so often saw on her father's face after time spent with 'her'. She saw none of these. What she did see made the hairs on her arms stand up, her heart flutter and hammer all in one beat. She saw sadness and kindness and worry. Three things that she had never seen before in the face of a man.

Her heart ached as she knew she had to break the silence. Leaning forward she lowered her legs and picked up her glass. Tilting her head back she drank

the amber coloured liquid in one. It burned her throat and made her cough, banging at her chest she put the glass down and looked up at Gene, he was

smiling. "Top of the range, one of a kind, bottle of shite!" He drank his down and held the empty glass in his hand. Eyes never leaving Chrissy's.

"What did she say?"

A full minute passed before Gene sighed, put down his glass and leant towards Chrissy. "She said, and I quote 'She chased away her fathers love for her

by screwing around'."

His words hit Chrissy like a blow to the face. It was like she was there in the room. A dark presence standing over her, reeking of her cheap perfume and

cheap wine.

Chrissy struggled to think of the right things to say, what words she could use to let him know that the person her step mother spoke of wasn't who

Chrissy really was, but the words stuck in her throat. There wasn't anything that Chrissy could say that would change the mind of someone that had been

tainted by the vicous words spoken by 'her'. Chrissy lay her head onto her hands and pictured her step mother. The person that had stolen her father, her

youth, her virginity.

"I tell you, she does like to hear the sound of her own voice that one."

Lifting her head Chrissy stared at Gene. He stood and refilled his glass from the bottle on the sideboard, holding it up to her as an invitation for another

drink and taking her silence as confirmation. He filled it and sat down heavily on the coffee table infront of Chrissy.

"Tell me what she did to you."

His blue eyes looked into Chrissy's. They were bloodshot and the lids heavy, yet awake and alert. He sipped his glass before setting it down beside him and

reaching for her. His mouth turned upwards slightly as she let his hands hold hers.

"I want to help you, Chrissy, but I can't do anything without you." Chrissy heard the compassion in his voice, but was looking at her hands in his instead of

at his face. "Tell me what she did to you!"

Chrissy could feel her head shake before she had registered his request. How could you put into words what her step mother had done to her? How could

you explain everything that she had done, and yet she had never laid one finger on her? From the age of fifteen Barbara had destroyed Chrissy inside and

out. Had given her to men. For money and gifts and favours. She had broken Chrissy's body and soul and then turned the one person she had in the world

against her. Turned the love that her father once had for her into revulsion. Her body ached from the most recent 'transaction'. The one that had caused

Chrissy to finally turn on her step mother. Her ribs were bruised and her skin blistered. She was ashamed and yet it was the only way to show Gene. She

didn't have the words but she could show him. Let him know.

Never taking her eyes from Gene's she withdrew her hands from his and moved forwards on the sofa, her knees touching his. His eyes watched her warily

as she grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and lifted it over her head before he had a chance to react.

"Chrissy..."

Holding the t-shirt against herself Chrissy turned to the side and waited while his eyes skimmed the surface of her skin. Taking in the thin white lines of old

scars, the deep purple bruising over-lapping the fading yellow bruises that ran the length of her rib cage. She sensed rather than felt his arms move

towards her body, turning her at the shoulders so that she was facing him head on. She heard him draw in a breath as he lifted a finger to touch the old

cigarette burn scar that was centered on her chest, surrounded by the eight or ten new burns that were brand new.

She didn't realise that she was shaking, didn't know that her eyes were shut tight until she felt a blanket being wrapped around her. It was only when

she opened her eyes and looked into his face that she realised she was crying. Hot tears poured down her cheeks as she sat before the one man, the one

person, in this world that she knew she could trust. He touched her face, his gentle fingers trailing the tears as they ran to her chin. Her head was

suddenly drowsy and her eyelids heavy. He cleared a space for her on the couch and then laid her down on her side, disapearing for a minute before

returning with another blanket. As she curled into a ball she was vaguely aware of him kneeling down beside her, she felt lips press against her temple and

a finger wiping away the last of the tears that fell from her eyes. As she slipped into an exhausted slumber she heard him growl, "I'll get her, Chrissy.

Just you wait. I'll get the bitch!"