Emily stomped into Ian's office, trembling with rage. She'd followed Derek back to his dorm, begging him to listen, but he refused to entertain anything she had to say – not that she could blame him... Well, if Derek wouldn't listen, she'd make damn sure Ian would...

"How dare you!?" Emily growled. Her hands were clenched into fists so tightly that her nails dug furrows into her palms, her knuckles going white, hands shaking with the effort of restraining herself from doing something stupid and violent. "How fucking dare you!?"

Ian looked up from his work as if pleasantly surprised to see her standing there. "Hello again, Emily...something the matter?" he asked almost pleasantly.

She crossed the room to slam her palms down on his desk, rattling the disarray of papers. "Don't bullshit me, Ian," she hissed, "You know exactly what's wrong, you fucking asshole!"

His expression darkened as she lashed out; it had been an unspoken rule of their relationship...never make him angry. "Where's my ring?" he demanded.

She dropped the ring unceremoniously onto the desk, just out of his reach, the metal clattering against the wood surface with a satisfying sound. "I didn't want it in the first place." It was freeing, in a way, to be rid of the thing – she felt like she could breathe for the first time in years.

"Don't lie, Emily," he snarled, "It's unbecoming."

"Fuck you," she snapped.

"You used to like that," Ian replied, that cold smirk on his face that he got when he wanted to cut her with his words.

She shrugged, ready to cut him right back. "Some things are easier to fake than others."

In the blink of an eye, Ian crossed the room until his hand closed around her throat, slamming her against the wall. "You've always been a mouthy little bitch," he hissed by her ear.

"And you've always been a son of a bitch," she retorted, gasping for breath as he pressed harder against her throat. She refused to give him the satisfaction of struggling, of begging, even as dark spots danced in front of her eyes, air quickly depleting.

"I never pretended otherwise." He tightened his fingers around her neck, watching her face turn red, her eyes bug out. "You, on the other hand...you really laid on the good girl act thick – I actually bought it. Then, as soon as I turned my back, you're fucking some other guy." He let one hand wander up her thigh until his knuckles brushed her core through her jeans. "Well, if you want to be a whore, I'll treat you like one..."

With her last bit of air, she managed to push him off her and, inhaling frantically, she drew back and punched him in the jaw making him stumble backwards, catching himself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling.

"Don't ever fucking touch me!" she shouted, lungs still heaving, desperate for air. "Or I swear to God, I will ruin you..."

He glared at her as he swiped away the blood dripping from his nose. "Fucking bitch," he muttered, crossing the room and throwing open the door to his office. "Get out. And consider yourself lucky I can't throw you off the team without arising suspicion."


"Because I like you, I'm not going to say I told you so..." JJ said, with a slight air of superiority, arms crossed over her chest as she stared down at her – half pityingly, half rolling her eyes. She was glad Emily was safely away from the man, but if she'd listened to her, she could have saved herself the whole messy break up with Derek and the almost being strangled to death...

"JJ, I swear to God," Emily mumbled, voice muffled by her hands covering her face. "I'm not in the mood to listen to you lecture me."

Taking pity on her, JJ shook her head a little, but remained silent on the subject. "Move over," she demanded, sitting on the edge of the bed where Emily had dramatically flopped down.

Emily moved her hands to glare up at her, but moved over on the bed anyway, letting JJ lay down next to her. JJ reached over to twine her fingers with Emily's squeezing her hand in silent comfort, letting her know that no matter how badly she'd fucked up, she was always going to be there for her (to comfort and condemn) because she was her best friend.

For a long time, they lay in silence until JJ worked up the courage to say what she'd been thinking for a while now, "You need to go to the police."

"What?" she squeaked, incredulous, turning her head to give JJ an 'are you fucking serious?' stare.

"He just assaulted you, Em! You told me yourself he committed statutory rape and he has a history of preying on young girls. He needs to be behind bars."

"I can't..." Emily insisted weakly. "Jayje, I just... I can't."

"Em..."

"Ian is my only shot at making it to the Olympics – I can't start over with a new trainer. It's just for a little while longer and then I never have to deal with him again," Emily said, nearly begging her to understand. "It's just for a few more months."

"And what about the next girl?" JJ pressed. "The next young gymnast he takes a liking to? You can stop him before that ever happens."

"I don't know," she wavered. "That means police and lawyers and court... What if no one believes me? What if everyone thinks I'm just a slut?"

"Legally, you were a child when he met you, Em. He took advantage of you because he knew he had power over you – that's what a predator does. You can't let him get away with that," JJ urged.

"What about my mother?" Emily asked. "She'd never let me go through with that – she'd die of embarrassment. And what about Derek? He already hates me..."

"Em," JJ whispered, "You know you have to do the right thing. Just look at your neck – you could have died today."

She heaved a sigh. "I'm scared," she murmured.

"I know, Em, I know."