A/N: Yep another update. #4, in fact. Why? Because I can. Because this story has rusticated long enough, taking up space in the cloud. And if you think this is the nitty gritty, you ain't seen nothing yet.

TRIGGER WARNING: Aggravated Stalking, Violence, Armed Assault

APoV

Jack Hyde behaved very oddly when I received the elaborate floral display from Christian, congratulating me on my first day at work. He repeatedly attempted to quiz me on who they were from and what they were for, almost intimating that they might have been payment for services rendered. He followed up with an invitation to dinner which I swiftly declined, making for a very strained first day.

He must've taken my rejection badly, as my workload piled up quickly. As I looked around, I noticed other assistants casually perusing manuscripts, but they didn't seem to have nearly as many, and their supervisors didn't check on them every five minutes while breathing over their shoulders then stomping off in fits of pique, slamming their office doors loudly behind them.

I was so glad to be on my way at the end of the day. While the bus arrived on schedule, I missed it because Jack held me back after work. But the next one came at thirty minutes on the dot, allowing me to put off the need to get another car so soon. The check Christian gave me sat in my purse like a lead weight. So did the card that came with the flowers. I wondered if I should just mount it in a frame like business owners sometimes do with the first dollar earned.

I felt like curling up in a corner to lick my wounds, but I knew if I resorted to Kate's solution of pajamas, Ben and Jerry, I might never recover. And I had to work. There were bills to be paid, and I guess I just needed the distraction to take my mind off of Christian and our disastrous breakup. I cheered myself with the thought that had our relationship gone according to the contract, we would've been over in less than a few months anyway.

Being with Christian, I couldn't tell up from down. Just when I was sure that we were over, he sends those flowers and he's back in the forefront of my mind. I can usually suppress unpleasant feelings and thoughts but I guess he's in a class of his own. I've been told that a woman never forgets her first love or lover, and Christian was both. I'll also never forget my first heartbreak.

It wasn't like I was bucking for marriage, but being hidden like a dirty secret by a man who'd like nothing better than to fuck and/or beat the bejeezus out of me didn't seem like such a great idea. What I wanted no longer mattered, flowers notwithstanding.

I still don't know what he wants, but I'm no longer going to accept any more vague hints. I tried it his way and my way is far too pedestrian for him. I'll just assume he always planned to send me the flowers and leave it at that.

After making my way upstairs to my apartment, I became alarmed as I realized my door was ajar. I had made sure the apartment was locked and secure, as I was alone until Kate returned from Barbados. Tinkling sounds emanated from within, and against my better judgment, I pushed the door open in trepidation. Nothing could prepare me for the scene unfolding before my eyes…

Our apartment was a total loss. Glass was strewn across every walking surface. The source of all the shattered glass and ceramic became apparent as I noticed that every kitchen cabinet door was open and hanging askew. And empty. No wonder our apartment looked like the skeet-shoot. The perpetrator must've been flinging our dishes around like Frisbees. The beautiful teacups Christian and I toasted my graduation and new home were completely shattered, leaving little more than material for a future mosaic or Kintsugi project.

Kate's furniture was slashed, with their innards sticking out. The walls were dented and the flatscreen television that Elliot had painstakingly hung to Kate's exact specifications featured a star-burst crack slightly off-center. Her coffee table was missing a leg, leaning precariously like a drunken prostitute with her hip out and her arms akimbo.

As I waded carefully through the morass, I heard noise emanating from the area containing our bedrooms. Was the intruder still here, or was there some other cause of the sounds coming from that direction? Though a small voice told me to retreat, something deep inside compelled me to move toward our bedrooms. There was nothing to steal in mine, so why would anyone be after me? Maybe they were looking for something that belonged to Kate. But the vandalism committed on our belongings screamed anger, not avarice.

Our home phone was in the kitchen, and I would have to go in the opposite direction to reach it. I'm not surprised that no-one else heard the disturbance because our neighbors mostly consist of young up-and-comers who work even longer hours than I do. I carefully picked up the broken table leg, making my way as quietly as possible toward the bedrooms.

Still, I checked Kate's room first, just in case. For all I knew a former boyfriend decided to break in and destroy Kate's apartment in a fit of rage. She was never very discreet in her dealings with them. Men in Kate's world are as fungible and disposable as Kleenex. After she blows, there's simply no need to keep them around. She plays hard and works hard, well as much as the family princess with a silver spoon in her mouth would be expected to anyway. I wasn't even surprised when she was selected as valedictorian though I had the higher GPA. She just had that certain something. Like 'Kavanagh' as a last name.

Her room was a clusterfuck, too. Her room was in such disarray, I couldn't tell if anything had been stolen. Her toilet was backed up to overflowing with tissue and feminine items. Someone had slashed all her clothes, poured nail polish, powder and perfume all over her dresser and written "WHORE" on her walls with lurid, red lipstick. Her floor was ruined. Condom packages were liberally sprinkled on her bed and dresser as if 'proof' of her sins… I never thought she fucked any guy as judgmental as this. We were in college where easy, safe sex was more effortless to obtain than healthy food in the resident dining halls. The guys Kate fucked seemed to fuck her back with the same intensity, which means they had hot, but mutual, sexual liaisons which rapidly fizzled out.

I had seen Kate end many relationships in the four years we lived together, but when they left, they never left angry. And the girls seemed to like Kate too though she is so forthright and bigger than life. She never poached on any girl's territory if she could help it, but if she did, she'd put the guy who tried to cheat with her on blast. Because of this, she was basically most of the girls' hero, even though she had been given healthy helping of wealth and sex appeal. I was shocked she'd never been a cheerleader.

I now worried that the perpetrator was totally unhinged. We had just moved here and not many people knew our address. And the only people who'd been inside besides Kate and I were Elliot, Christian, Ray and Jose Jr and none of them would have done something like this. I was very glad we had very good renter's insurance because everything was a total wash. Neither of us could've predicted an event like this.

I slowly retraced my steps, exiting Kate's room and moved toward mine. I don't know why I expected my room to be exempt from this act of terror, but somehow, the realization that my room looked worse than the rest of our apartment completely stunned me. It had never occurred to me that this attack was aimed at me until I saw the complete devastation wreaked on the few belongings I had.

I had very little of value, honestly. Less stuff meant less to spend and less to clean. Most of my discretionary spending was focused on bills, student debt and Wanda's upkeep. For the past six years, I've had a pathological hatred of debt or owing anyone anything. If you owe, you never know when your creditors will collect. Many times I'd found myself in debt when I didn't know I had 'borrowed' anything. That's why I hate receiving gifts. I think that's why most presents come tied with a bow. It's a warning to recipients that there might be strings attached.

My walls were scarred with deep gouges, all of my framed photos had been ripped from the wall, and what little memorabilia I had collected had been scattered to the four winds. Grandmother Steele's jewelry box had been discovered in its hiding place behind my footlocker and the lid hung from its hinges. It was handmade by Grandfather Steele as an engagement present and Ray had handed it down to me as his only child. It was fine craftsmanship like that which infected him with his carpentry bug. Now it was as fractured as his and Carla's marriage.

All of my clothes had been strewn about and someone had tossed my mattress to see if there was anything to steal, but I never put anything beneath my mattress. The vandal had also taken my journals out of my drawer and ripped out as many pages as they could. It was like my entire existence had been violated. But why?

As soon as that question entered my mind, I heard my bedroom door slam shut behind me. I quickly whirled around at the sound and found a small woman standing in front of my door, wearing my borrowed graduation dress…