AN: Sorry about the short chapter – this was the most obvious break in the story.

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Anne blinked, and opened her eyes. She squinted slightly, suddenly dazzled by the buttery band of early morning sunlight that was leaking in through the kitchen window, bathing her head in a cheery glow; it was perhaps because of the warmth of the sun that it took her a moment to realize why her arms were coated in goosebumps. Slowly, Anne sat up and straightened her back with a groan - had she been sleeping all night slumped over the kitchen table? - and shivered as an early-morning breeze played at her bare ankles. Still blinking with sleepiness, Anne's eyes scanned the room and finally fell on the clock: 5:48AM. Jim must still be in bed. As she glanced toward the staircase, another breeze crept up on her, and Anne reached habitually for the corners of her shawl, before realizing that it was up in her bedroom; she also realized that the front door was open.

Robbed. Burgled. In the middle of the night. While she dozed away at the kitchen table! Anne was so overcome with horror that she didn't even think to call for Jim. A sickening lump in her throat, she rushed to the silverware drawers and pulled them open with trembling fingers: everything seemed to be in order. She shut the door on the way to the store front where she fumbled with her wand, performing the numerous incantations required to open the lock of the safe: after a quick count, the money was all there, and the safe didn't look as if it had been tampered with, magically or otherwise. Her eyes darted around the hall as she moved toward the stock-room: nothing appeared to be missing. She pulled open the stock-room door, expecting the worst: all the boxes were stacked neatly where Jim and Pat had put them just the day before. Pat!

Anne nearly tripped as she ran up the stairs. She knocked gently at Pat's door, but her patience was entirely spent, and the door was open even before her knocking was done. Pat's bed was neatly made, and the whole room looked clean and organized; it was worse than she had expected. Anne flew to the chest of drawers and opened one after another. Empty. Empty. Empty.

The happy smiling people in the family photos atop the dresser did nothing to soothe Anne's temper. With one angry swoop, a picture of Anne and her three sisters hit the floor; the glass shattered, and the occupants cried out in silence, their young faces terrified. The occupants of the other photos looked on in horror, and a colour portrait of Jim's late father exclaimed, "Now see here, young lady!" But Anne ignored him and dashed out of the room.

"What's up, Annie?" said Jim sleepily, yawning as he leaned on the bedroom door, "You never came to bed last night. And it's not even six o'clock in the m-"

"She's gone, Jim," said Anne, pausing only for a second to give him a hard look before starting down the stairs.

"Gone? What do you mean gone?" asked Jim, his voice still laced with tiredness as he followed his wife.

"Gone! All her things are gone, room looks like it's never been lived in. She's gone, I tell you!"

"But why would-"

"Oh for God's sake, Jim, why do you think!"

"Oh..." said Jim, slowing down in his pursuit of Anne.

"It's Ty, dammit," muttered Anne, angrily, "I am going to curse that little bastard if he's done anything to hurt her."

"Anne, do you really think she hasn't left of her own accord? I mean, really, would her room be neat and tidy if she'd been forced to go somewhere with him?" said Jim reasonably, "Do you think a kidnapper would really be bothered to come back to collect the hostage's belongings?"

"He's a sneaky little bastard, there's no telling what that type of slime is capable of. If Pat had left on her own, she would've at least left a note," said Anne, hastily pulling on her wool coat.

"I believe she has," said Jim, leaning in to inspect the kitchen sink. As Anne turned to look, he turned the cold water faucet, and a stream of words poured out, accompanied by a voice that was rather muffled by the running water.

Anne, Jim:

I don't suppose you've failed to notice that I'm not here. Though you didn't seem to notice me leaving tonight, so who knows, really. You could've been going on this whole time, only finding this note when you went to fill your tea kettle or something. It doesn't really matter.

Anyway, I've decided I can't live here anymore. I'm sorry Jim, I know you need help, but it just isn't working. Anne, I needed you to be my sister, not some sort of surrogate mother. Maybe you just don't get it: I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions. You may not think much of what I'm doing with my life, but it is my life, dammit, not yours. I needed you to understand that, to support me in my decisions, but instead you made me feel like shit. You keep telling me not to become something less than what I'm worth: so why do you treat me like some stupid child who doesn't know much and doesn't make much of what she does know. Something to think about.

You probably think I'm with Ty. You're damn right I am. At least he doesn't treat me like I'm a nuisance. I suppose this'll be good for you, Anne, getting the nuisance out of your way. Oh, and don't even think about coming over here. I am not listening to any more of your rhetoric, and I am certainly not letting you freak out on Ty. Besides, a little early-morning feud wouldn't be good for business, now would it?

So Jim, I'm sorry. And Anne, I'm sorry too, but not for anything I've done.

Patricia Laceeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy...

The last syllable lingered whinily as it was washed down the drain. Jim turned the tap slowly to the left, and the flow of water ceased. A slight drip echoed in the silence as Anne began to cry.