Part Nine

I froze. My apartment was dark. I hadn't turned on the lights but I could see the shape of my father standing up.

"How did you get in?" I asked my voice weak and small and quiet.

"I have my ways. Now Rayne, you are in trouble," he replied. My head began to spin and I heard roaring in my ears. That's what he always said before a beating. This was too much like my childhood, the dark lights, his broad shouldered form coming for me.

"You shouldn't have run away," he growled. He lunged and I fell back panicked. I scrambled back to my feet and bolted for the door.

"Rayne!" he roared but I flung the door wide and raced out into the street. My heart was galloping and only one thought pounded in my brain. Survival. I had to get away. I bolted down the street hearing a car start. I pushed myself even faster but a heel broke and I tumbled to the pavement. I tore the shoes off, jumped back up and bolted once more, leaving the shoes behind. I ran. I couldn't stop running. A car suddenly flung in front of me.

"No!"I screamed as a door opened and hand pulled me inside. I kicked and thrashed and bit. I heard yelps.

"Rayne, Rayne, calm down, it's us," a familiar British voice broke through my panic. I stopped and stared into Tuck's grey blue eyes. I was in FDR's car. He was driving. My father hadn't gotten me. I collapsed against Tuck in relief and began to cry into his shirt. I was shaking and I clenched my hands into fists. I clung to him and he held me.

"What happened?" FDR asked gently. I felt him rubbing my back soothingly.

"Dad, house, came, ran," I stammered unable to string a sentence together. I was shaking and crying too hard.

"Take a deep breath and try to calm down," Tuck told me in a tender voice. I took several deep breaths but my heart continued to race and tears continued to stream down my face.

"My dad was in the house," I finally managed. I closed my eyes, memories of my childhood flickering on my closed lids.

"We're going to go to your apartment and grab you some clothes and then you are coming to my house and we are all going to stay there tonight," FDR told me. His voice shook with anger. I nodded still clinging to Tuck. I heard FDR move then felt the car start up. Tuck kept murmuring random nothings in my ear trying to calm me down.

My father was gone when we got back. I held FDR's and Tuck's hands as we walked inside. There was no sign of him in the living room. I avoided looking at the couch and went to my room. The sight that greeted me almost made me collapse. There was sign he had been here after all. The only way the apartment remembered he had been there was the fact that Angel lay dead on the ground with blood on her claws.