AN- All I have to say this chapter is... **gulp** Review and tell me how you really feel. :)

Ericka POV

When I was young, I was to be great at hide and seek. It was an enviable talent in childhood…. I guess that skill didn't stick with me as I grew up. Wherever Connor was hiding, I couldn't find him. I checked the usual places- his work, Ma and Da's, the bars we used to frequent. Checked with the police department- to which all I got were a few sympathetic looks and a 'sorry, we can't help you.'

He was truly gone.

It was a strange feeling to come home, knowing that he wasn't there. Sobering, actually. I think I sat inside my car for ten minutes, trying to muster up the courage to admit he wasn't there, nor was he coming back. Finally, after letting out a sigh that I couldn't hold in, I got out of my car and walked to the house, letting myself inside with a feeling of dread. It was going to be a very long, and very sleepless night.

I was hit by the smell of lemon pledge and the sounds of someone humming from the kitchen. Instantly, I went into 'holy shit something's wrong' mode and dropped to a crouch, hugging the wall. My heart pounded, my mouth dry.

This is familiar. Too fucking familiar. I had this exact stance at one time, this exact reaction… but when, I couldn't recall. Not that it mattered now, really. I grabbed my gun- a sleek little 9 mil out of my purse, and turned the safety off. Normally, one of the first rules of firing a weapon of any kind would be to keep the safety on until you go to fire. In this case, I made an exception. If someone had broken into the house, I was not going to fight fair.

I slowly made my way down the hallway and to the kitchen doorway. I heard footsteps and the humming sound move close to the doorframe. I waited with baited breath to fire, the palms of my hands sweaty on the textured grip. A man came around the corner.

"Jesus Christ!" he jumped back. "Ericka! The fuck are you doing?"

I froze and stared. "Fuck…." I realized my mistake. "Fuck, Murphy…." I immediately flicked the safety back on. "You scared the fucking shit out of me."

"I scared you?" He looked at me incredulously. "You 'bout gave me a fucking heart attack there."

"Guess I'm paranoid then…" I shook my head and walked past him into the kitchen, intent on getting a glass of… well, something. I wasn't sure if I wanted water and a Tylenol or if I wanted to get straight up drunk. Either way… I think wandering around the house with a locked and loaded weapon is hovering right above rock bottom. The only way my day could get worse is if…. Actually, I don't think my day CAN get any worse.

Murph came up to me and gently pulled the gun out of my hand, setting it on top of the fridge. I had half forgotten I was holding the thing. "Ericka… " he started but then stopped, shaking his head. I didn't feel like pushing the issue. I felt like doing something. Cleaning, Perfect outlet for my slight OCD tendencies and frustration. I went to pull out of a can of Comet and a Brillo bad from under the sink, when I realized that the sink was already clean. No. Not clean. It was fucking gleaming.

Oh.

"Murphy? Did you…clean?"

He snorted. "Of course, NOW you notice after trying to shoot me." He grinned down at me when he saw me raise a fist to punch him, looking a little relieved. "Yeah, I cleaned. I uh… I felt kind of bad that you've been the only one to keep the place in order since we got here….thought I'd help out."

Despite my rather foul mood, I smiled up at him. "Thank you, Murph. It looks great in here." I looked around at everything. He had to have spent the entire day cleaning the joint. I was actually touched by his random act of kindness. "Don't mention it." He mumbled, ruffling his hair with the hand that wasn't in his pocket.

I looked around and sighed, exhaustion weighing down on me. Screw drinking. I just wanted to sleep. "I think I'm gonna try and go to bed…. In my own bed." I didn't miss the slightly sad look to cross his face, but nonetheless, he nodded, reached out and gave my hand a squeeze before walking out of the room.

I stumbled upstairs and took a hot shower, half asleep. I didn't think sleep would be a problem for me. As soon as I laid down, my head started spinning. The sheets smelled just like Connor. The scent was as comforting as it was upsetting. My eyes prickled uncomfortably.

Where the fuck was he? Why did he just run off like that? This wasn't like Connor, not at all. There had to be a reason… even if he didn't want me anymore, he would have told me…

Right?

I couldn't take the mental gauntlet I was putting myself through. I wanted to cry, or scream, or something… but I wouldn't do that. I couldn't do that. I crawled out of bed, and as an afterthought, took off the ring Connor had given me and put it in a dresser drawer. Why wear it when it meant nothing?

I made my way down the stairs and to the couch. I tossed and turned. I stared down at the pictures on the shelf for a while. The people in those pictures were strangers, I decided. I didn't know them. I finally gave up after a while and trudged back upstairs.

I passed Murph's room, pausing for a moment. The door was slightly ajar and I could hear Murph's heavy breathing. I debated for two seconds what I was about to do, and then walked in unannounced and uninvited. It was dark and I was exhausted out of my mind. And I couldn't see. At all. My foot found it's way into a random object, which resulted in me tripping and landing face first onto the wood floor with a loud bang. "Ow…"

I heard Murph almost instantly sit bolt upright in bed, hand already reaching for the gun I know he kept under his pillow. "Just me, Murph. Just me." I looked up to see his silhouette swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing in here?" he sounded sleepy.

"Um… I couldn't sleep. I was going to just sleep next to you or something…" I swallowed. I was being weird. And creepy. Dear God. Time to bail. "Sorry, I'll just-" I started to get up when he was suddenly on the floor next to me.

"No! No, hey, don't go. You're fine, love." he reached out with an unsteady hand and touched my cheek. His hand was warm, almost hot. I felt myself shiver a little. "I know you won't believe me when I tell you this, but it's gonna be alright. Promise you. It's gonna be okay." I couldn't look him in the eyes, but I felt his gaze going right through me, like a knife. A half cocked idea formed in my brain, and there was no stopping it.

"Murph…. "

"Yeah?"

"Promise you won't judge me?"

Pause. "Of course not. Why are you asking that?"

I leaned into him and let my brain shut off. Instinct could guide me here.

Our lips met. I heard him sigh and instantly the kiss deepened. Slow. Sweet. His hand wound itself into my hair; he pulled away and pressed his forehead against mine. "Are you sure about this, love?" I heard the ache in his voice, mirroring my own form of desperation.

It was clear then. This couldn't be a one time thing. He was too invested, too attached to just walk away. I knew then and there, I was going to break his heart. I didn't know when, where or, how…. But deep down I knew it would happen. And the awful, vile, selfish and horrible person that I was kept going with it, not having the goddamned will power to stop.

"Yeah… I'm sure." I whispered.

He kissed me again, and this time there was no hesitation. Frantic, desperate, and lustful. Hands wandered to places they shouldn't have gone. Clothes were tugged off and forgotten. Wants mentioned, then immediately answered. Senses reeled. The wooden floor was covered in sweat, slippery. We crawled to bed, we collapsed and fell asleep.

In every story, there's a darling or a harlot, a sinner or a saint. It just depends on the light you tell the story in that determines if the characters are good or evil.

I don't know which one I was in this case. At the time I just didn't care.