A/N: So, I'm catching up with finished and edited chapters, but the flow is slowing to a trickle…

APoV

As Ana floated in and out of consciousness, she felt as though she was living two different lives… She heard disembodied voices, and felt strange hands manipulating her body.

"Look at me, Daddy! I can fly!" Ana shouts, mounted on the powder blue bike she'd received for her eighth birthday. And it didn't even have training wheels, For the first time since she's been pedaling, her father Ray lets go. "You sure are, Annie!"

The girl covered in pink and purple mottled bruises starts to shake and shiver. "She's seizing!"

Something is placed in her mouth, preventing her from biting or swallowing her tongue while another set of hands attempt to press her body flat. She's moved to the gurney where straps are placed to keep her from bucking or falling off.

"Unknown woman, Caucasian, five feet four inches tall, estimated one hundred twenty pounds, approximately twenty five to twenty nine years of age. No ID. Call it."

"Time of death: 7:02pm."

"Why do we have to leave, Mom?" Anastasia asked as she packed a set of knee pads.

"I hate it here. This place is stagnating my growth. Baby, why are you packing those? We're not going to be able to take your bike," Carla explained.

"Well, I'm growing just fine. I should stay here with Dad. There's room for all of my stuff right here. Even more if you're leaving," she muttered mulishly.

"Ray isn't your father. You're coming with me," Mom shouted, as she pulled things out of my bags and stuffed in a few others. Apparently books weren't welcome in Texas.

I hated it there. How could Mom not feel 'stagnated' in this tiny town, practically working two part-time jobs to live in this dilapidated double-wide trailer? At least in Montesano we had a two-story home with a huge yard and a garage instead of a broken down carport.

"I don't like it here, Mom. Stephen looks at me funny," I protested. Only vain hope allowed me to think my words fell on anything but deaf ears. The further away from Ray she got, the less capable she was of common sense.

"Stop making up stories. You're not going back to Montesano no matter what you say. I better not hear you mention this again," said Carla.

Mom doesn't understand. This guy's a creep. He stares at me all the time. There's not even a lock on the door. How many times has he tried to corner me in the bathroom? This week? I wish mom didn't have to work so many late hours. Thank goodness for after-school programs.

"Didn't I tell you to clean this fucking shithole when you got home?" Stephen snarled angrily.

"Leave her alone, Steve. You dropped those beers on the floor when you got here. Otherwise, you could practically eat off the floor!" Carla excused.

"No, little bitch outta learn her place. Clean this shit up! Now, dammit!" Stephen blusters, shoving his way past Ana, shamed to have been gotten caught harassing her again. This is the third time this week he's come home from work drunk and it's only Wednesday.

A few weeks later, when Ana arrived home, she took off her backpack and took her homework out to study. This hour and a half was the only time she'd have to get anything done. Going to the kitchen for a snack, she notices that the fridge is practically empty… again. And the room is basically trashed though it was pristine when she left for school this morning. No-one was due home.

She quickly began to clean it up. Knowing Steve, there'd be hell to pay if the room was anything less than perfect, but there was nothing she could do about the empty fridge. She'd need money and a car to fix that. She felt her belly grumble with hunger.

Suddenly, she's grabbed from behind. She smells Steve's cheap cologne and stale body odor, making her want to gag.

"You lazy slut! Didn't I tell you to clean this pigsty this morning?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"I cleaned the kitchen before I went to school, Steve, and I was the last one here this morning. I swear it was like this when I got home," she explains.

"Likely story, and you have books and papers all over the dining room table," he complained.

"You guys told me I could study there for ninety minutes after I got home from school," she refuted.

"That's what I said. That's what I said!" he shouted in her ear mockingly, his sour, moist breath and spittle hitting her on the side of her face. Shivering in disgust, she sought to move away. He pushes her forward, with a savage pinch to her ass.

"Who knows? Maybe if I had a little bit of this, I could calm down," he said, grinding his erection into her ass, blue jeans her only protection as she's bent over the counter with his forearm holding the top of her body flush to the counter.

As she struggled, his length poked even harder against her, making her want to retch. How could women want this? He took the hand not holding her down and tried to cup her breasts. As he did so, she was able to gain enough leverage to buck him off.

"You bitch!"

"No! Leave me alone! I'm telling Mom!" she shouted, out of breath. As the words left her mouth he delivered a powerful slap to her face. SMACK!

"Your bitch of a mother doesn't give a flying fuck about you! Why do you think she isn't here?"

Ana was pulling away and screaming for help as Stephen shakes her. When he jerks her arm hard, she falls into the wall with a crack, popping her shoulder out of its socket. She was faint from pain and shock. He takes her small frame and shoves her into the wall, causing her to bang her head. His words become gibberish as she comes in and out of consciousness.

She hears her mom call out as if from a long distance, "Steve, what the hell have you done?"

"The little bitch is clumsy. I tried to catch her when she started to fall," he defended.

Carla nodded slowly in disbelief. Ana may have been clumsy, but she was never as clumsy as she's been since they arrived in Texas. While Ana slept, they popped the shoulder back into socket, as Steve refused to take Ana to the hospital and forbid Carla from leaving the house.

As Steve slept, Carla lay awake, realizing that Ana was telling the truth about Steve. While he had seemed like a great guy and made her feel very special, he could've killed Ana tonight. She's been waking her up every hour to make sure she didn't have a concussion.

Carla loves men, there's no doubt about it, but that doesn't mean she didn't love Ana more. She only has money for one bus ticket since she bought groceries today. Steve is a garbage disposal. There's hardly ever any food in the house.

She treads into the kitchen, packing Anastasia a picnic feast to take on the bus. She even tosses in a few bottles of water and juice, some fresh fruit and half the bread and cold cuts as a huge "fuck you" to Steve. She padded to Anastasia's room, just looking at her child. She's made a terrible mistake but Annie shouldn't have to pay for it with her.

Hours later as the night deepened, Carla saw hand and finger bruises bloom across Ana's body. She touched Annie gently on one of the places on her body that wasn't bruised. Ana woke up with a start. Seeing her mother only caused her to somewhat relax. She went to hug Anastasia but she flinched a little before returning it. What had she done?

"Anastasia. You gotta get up, honey. You can't stay here," Carla explained carefully. "I can't keep you safe here."

"But Mom, what about you?" Ana shouted in a whisper.

"I'm your mother. It's my job to keep you safe. I wrote your Dad a letter explaining that you wanted to come home and I let you. I don't know what Ray would do if he knew what happened here tonight. Here's two hundred and fifty dollars. I want you to take the bus home as soon as the depot opens. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you," Carla said.

"Mom, I can stay here. I won't leave you by yourself," Ana declared. Out of nowhere, Carla slapped Ana hard on the cheek. Ana reared back in shock.

"I need you to leave, Anastasia. You don't belong here. You're not safe here. I've made a terrible mistake, and I'm not keeping you here suffer with me. I'll get out of Dodge as soon as I can, and I'll contact you. Don't try to contact me," she instructed. Maybe she shouldn't have slapped her, but they had run out of time to argue.

She put Ana on a bus to Montesano the very next day. Though they never spoke of Stephen again, Ana, as she now liked to be called, never lived with Carla again. Anastasia had no idea how close she was to death that day. Today's altercation with Leila had exacerbated long-forgotten wounds.

She heard, rather than saw herself being boarded into the ambulance. She was so tired, dizzy and sore. She wondered if Leila is being put in an ambulance, too. She tried to give as much as she got. Yeah, Ana got her ass kicked good and proper, but that punch to the witch's 'nads was a thing of beauty.

Do I make you proud, Daddy?

Every day.

She listened poorly as the paramedics take her vitals. She couldn't speak or see. She felt like she does before she fell asleep at night, that strange temporary paralysis that falls upon her, rendering her unable to get out of bed, her body a prisoner of lethargy. Then, after awhile, she hears no more.

The sirens of the ambulance break the still of the night as it races against time to deliver its precious cargo into the hands of the experts, where hopefully they can save this young woman's life. She's gone into shock. They were afraid she wouldn't make it to the the hospital. One of the younger paramedics had never seen such extensive bruising and once you consider that there's broken capillaries under each bruise one wonders if she has enough blood left to support her organs.

If she wasn't unconscious, she'd be suffering great pain. They'll need to give her something really strong to counteract the pain from those contusions. She doesn't seem to have any broken bones which is a blessing but for the most part she's been unresponsive. I really hope they put the monster who would do something like this under the jail.

Are we there yet? Traffic's been a real bitch. It's like Fate is out to murder this girl. Although the cars are generally good about moving over, there needs to be somewhere to move over to. There's been bumper to bumper traffic all night. You'd think this was New York.

The patient's hand has begun to shake. "We have reason to believe she's suffered a traumatic brain injury, but we can't diagnose it. When we got to the apartment it looked like the apartment and the women had been caught in a tornado."

One long uninterrupted beat…

"She's coding! Dammit!"

"Apartment was ground zero. Shit was everywhere, making me wonder if someone had thrown a rave. You can never tell, but she seems like a good sort, not into anything illegal. She's really small, too. Who would want to beat the hell out of someone so slight? She's a tiny thing, but the other woman was small too."

"Featherweights the both of them."

"Bantam, maybe?"