Songs I listened to while writing this chapter: Black Tower by Michael Salvatori & Martin O'Donnell, Shifting Skies by Really Slow Motion, Mayday by Immediate Music, and Fate by Brian Tyler.

1988

Montana, U.S.

Rita was working on her homework when Carol approached her carefully. She looked up, feeling slightly concerned. There was an expression on her face that made Rita feel uneasy. Carol sat down across from her and reached to take her hand in hers.

"Rita," she said calmly. "You know if anything happens to you that you feel is wrong or that scares you, you can tell me, right?"

Rita blinked. Where had this come from? She felt intense fear in her stomach. Simon would bury her alive if she told anyone what he did to her. His frequency of assaults had slowed again in the last year, but every now and then he'd trip her or shove her into something or smack her. Sometimes it was just a little rough and sometimes it was intentionally hard.

"I know," she said, knowing Carol was looking for a response of some kind.

"Sweetheart," Carol said, leaning closer to her. "Does Simon go into your room at night?"

Rita's heart was starting to pound. How could she know about that? Simon was always careful when he came to visit her in the past, and he hadn't for a while because her father had been staying up later than usual. She shook her head slowly, knowing that if she told on him, he'd do good on his word and kill her.

"No," she said quietly when the head shaking didn't seem to be enough.

"Rita," Carol said, still calm. "I heard him come out of your room last night. When did he go in there? How long was he there? What did he do? Did he just come talk to you about something or did he hurt you? I need to know before I confront him."

Rita was trying to control her breathing. Since the first time after she'd almost drowned, he hadn't touched her privates again until last night. He had talked about his sexuality and that he was using her to help him figure it out, and Rita had no idea what he was talking about, being eight years old and all. He had told her he did it to make her feel good too. If he wasn't hurting her, she wasn't complaining, but she didn't like the guilty, bad feeling she got afterwards.

"He was just playing," she blurted out, and Carol closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and giving her a sad look.

"Oh, honey," she said. "How long has he been doing it?"

Rita licked her lips, feeling very anxious now. She kept quiet.

"What else does he do to you? Does he hit you? That time in the river, did he try to drown you?"

When she still didn't say anything, Carol nodded her head.

"Okay," she said. "This stops now. Where is he?"

"Outside," Rita whispered. Carol sucked her teeth and nodded again. There was a bit of anger in her eyes now.

"Stay here," she instructed. "He won't touch you ever again, Rita. I promise you that. I'm so sorry, baby. I wish I'd found out sooner." She patted Rita's hand gently and got up to go find Simon. Rita felt scared. She waited at the table, too scared to follow and see his reaction. She didn't want him to think she'd told on him because she hadn't. Carol had found out all on her own.

After almost ten minutes, she got up and went outside, deciding to hide and watch what happened. She didn't make it far when a gunshot went off and Carol cried out. Rita ran as hard as she could, and she came to the place where her father had set up a shooting range for the when he did target practice to help with his hunting skills (it was mostly so he could protect their animals from predators, but he did go hunting the odd time too). Simon was rarely allowed access to it, and Rita was surprised he was there today when her father wasn't home to supervise. She soon saw that Carol was unmoving on the ground while Simon stood with the rifle in his hands, an indescribable look on his face and blood spatter on his clothes. Rita stopped in her tracks.

Then she screamed.

Simon jerked his head up to see her, and she saw the fear and panic in his eyes.

"Rita!" he shouted. "Call an ambulance!"

"You shot her!" she screamed.

"No! It was an accident!" he yelled back. "I swear!"

"You shot her!" she screamed again.

"She...she tried to take the gun off me. It went off..." he tried, but Rita just screamed louder and went running back to the house. Her father had arrived since it was almost dinner, and he parked the car and got out quickly after seeing Rita running towards him screaming.

"What happened?!" he exclaimed.

"M-Mum's dead!" Rita cried.

"What?!"

"Over there," Rita said, pointing. Lance broke into a fast run towards Simon, who was crying now. Rita came up in the rear, watching and sobbing.

"What the hell happened?!" Lance shouted. "Carol? CAROL!" He fell to his knees beside her and turned her over. Rita watched him press his fingers into her neck and wait a moment before he rested his forehead against hers, fighting off tears himself as he breathed hard. Simon just stood there crying until Lance looked up at him angrily.

"What did you do?" he demanded. "Huh? Did you shoot her?!" He got to his feet and yanked the gun from Simon's grip.

"No!" Simon cried. "It was an accident! She grabbed the gun and it went off!"

"Why did she grab the gun?"

"I don't know! She just came out all angry. She didn't say why she was mad," Simon lied. Rita knew he was lying. She knew Carol had come out here to confront him about what he'd done to her. She had a strong belief that he'd killed her on purpose, but he was doing a really good job at acting hysterical about her death.

"What are you even doing out here with the gun? I'm supposed to be here when you do this!"

"Mum said it was okay..."

Another lie, Rita was sure. Lance swore and cried as he looked at Carol again. Rita felt scared looking at her unmoving body. She was still crying hard too.

Everything after that was a blur. She talked to the police officers about what happened. She said nothing about why Carol had really gone out to talk to him, using Simon's homework reason as why instead. Simon told them she'd grabbed the end of the rifle to take it from him and it had gone off by accident. He claimed the gun had misfired. Lance looked like he didn't believe it, but he said nothing. When everyone was gone and Carol was taken away, Rita went to hide in her room. She knew Simon would be visiting her to give her a good beating for this. She knew he'd blame her and think she had told Carol about his hurting her.

Shouting made her sit up, curious. She opened her door and went to stand on the stairs.

"I can't prove it, but I know you did it," Lance was saying to Simon. "I know that Carol was on to you about something. She wouldn't tell me what, but it was enough to deal with you. She was planning on sending you away to boarding school."

"I'm not going to boarding school," Simon said hotly. "I'm leaving."

"Fine. You're 13. You'll figure shit out," Lance replied angrily.

"Fine."

"What did you do my daughter?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, you little shit. What did you do her?!"

"Nothing she didn't have coming," Simon retorted. A hand slapping skin sounded next, and Rita flinched.

"Get out of my sight," Lance hissed, "and don't you ever, EVER, come back here. You hear me? I'll put you in a hole so dark no one will ever find you. You're lucky I don't do that to you right now."

Rita had never heard her father speak to anyone that way, and it startled her a little. She ran and hid when she heard Simon coming up to his room. She heard her father follow to supervise. When Simon was done thumping around his room and had gone down the stairs, she went to watch out the window. He stepped out into the yard and walked down the driveway, a backpack over his shoulder and a suitcase in his hand. He didn't look back.

"Rita?" Lance said, making her jump. She braced herself for a lecture on eavesdropping, but he said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she said tearfully.

"Oh, baby. Don't be sorry," he said, going to pull her up into his arms for a hug. "I'm sorry. I had suspicions he was hurting you, but I couldn't prove it."

"Is he gone?"

"Yea, he's gone. He won't hurt you ever again."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"I miss Carol," she whispered. Lance held her tighter.

"So do I, baby girl," he agreed. "So do I."

Two Weeks Later

The funeral had been small. Lance didn't know a lot of people here outside of his two neighbors, and it was just as well. He'd buried both of his wives in a matter of eight years. He had no desire to find someone new again. He had Rita, and she was all he needed.

He spent the first week hiding in bed, only getting up to feed Rita and the animals. She spent a lot of time with him, trying to coax him to get up or eat. He felt bad that she felt the need to do this, but he just had no energy. After his boss called and implied he needed to come back or lose his job, Lance finally got up. Everyone at work gave him space. His boss apologized and indicated he was too busy to give Lance anymore time off. Lance understood. It was the work that slowly brought him back. That and Rita.

Simon had gone to stay with one of his friends whose parents didn't care what went on in the house or who came and went. Lance knew he wouldn't stay there long, that it was a stepping stone for him. He didn't care. He was glad to be rid of him. If the boy didn't want to go to boarding school, then he could figure his own shit out, just like Lance had told him. There was too much of Greg in him, and he needed to keep Rita safe.

Now, he found Rita watching Willow grazing with the wistful look on her face. He'd promised her that when she was old enough, he'd teach her how to ride. He figured today was the day. They both needed something to help with the grief and pain and trauma.

"Hey, Rita luv," he called. She turned to see him, a hopeful expression on her face. "It's time." He held up a helmet, and her face broke out into a huge grin.

...

Rita was beyond thrilled. She still missed Carol and felt sad, but her father was letting her finally ride Willow, so it was hard to feel sad entirely. She knew Carol wouldn't want her to be sad anyway. Carol didn't like people being sad.

When she was on top of Willow, she felt like the queen of the world. She was on her mother's horse, and that in itself made her feel safe and secure.

"Okay," Lance was saying. "Let's just go for a little walk, okay?"

"Okay," Rita said eagerly. Her father was holding the rope in his hands. Willow was snorting and flipping her mane about. Norma was with her youngsters in her pen. Hank was off to the side watching with curiosity. Rita refrained from shrieking in joy as Willow started to walk alongside her father, but she couldn't stop from making a sound altogether, and the sound that came out was like a half squeak, half yelp.

"You okay?" he asked, giving her a concerned look.

"Yes!" She flashed a huge grin at him.

"Good."

They walked the perimeter of the fenced in area. Rita felt so tall and proud. Willow was strong underneath her, and it made her feel strong. She loved it. Her father walked them around a few laps before stopping.

"I wanna go more," she said.

"I know, but one day at a time, okay? Soon you'll be doing this all by yourself. Savor each step. That's important."

"Okay."

He helped her down, and she went to stroke Willow's face and gave it a kiss.

"Thanks for not throwing me off," she said to her, making Lance snort with a small laugh. She smiled. She liked making him laugh. It didn't reach his eyes, though. He still looked sad.

"Come on," he said, reaching to pick her up to sit on his shoulders. "Let's have some pizza."

It was just the two of them now, and Rita preferred it that way. He was all she'd ever need.

London, U.K.

Luke sat on his bike and watched the kids playing on the street ahead of him. A small part of him felt wistful inside. He'd never played with the neighbor kids. He was always with his mother or by himself. He wondered what it would be like to have a friend. At 11, he was growing up fast, and soon he'd be helping his mother with jobs. He knew she'd taken him on jobs when he was younger, but he didn't remember them.

A boy his age spotted him and made his way over. Luke tensed. This was a first.

"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Tom. Who are you?"

"Luke."

"You wanna hang out with us?"

Luke felt a twist inside. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He turned his head to see his mother watching from the window. She warned him constantly about not getting close to people. They didn't want to put themselves at risk of getting found out for who they really were. It also avoided getting them emotionally hurt when the people left them or when they got used as leverage against them.

"I can't," he answered.

"Alright," Tom said with a shrug. "If you change your mind, just come over."

Luke didn't say anything in return, and Tom ran back to his buddies. Luke felt an ache of loneliness inside as he watched them laughing and shoving each other.

He really wanted a best friend.

"Luke!" his mother yelled. He sighed and aimed his bike towards the house, pedaling slowly. Maybe one day he'd have a best friend.

A Week Later

Bulgaria

Luke was accompanying his mother on a job, one that Amelia had given her. Luke knew that Amelia didn't come around very often, and when she did, that meant the job was very important. Johnny had come, too, this time, but he was staying back at the safe house provided to them. He'd done most of the recon work and was letting Jess do the job.

They were in Bulgaria, and Luke was sitting on the end of the bed in the hotel room they'd gotten, watching Jess get ready. There was a party going on downstairs, and Jess was attending because that's where their target was going to be.

"You gotta make 'em interested in you," she said, applying lipstick carefully while looking in the mirror. "Don't be the life of the party, but don't be a dud either. Lure them to you with something that attracts them."

"Like your clothes?" Luke asked, noticing her rather revealing dress.

"Yes. What else?"

"Conversation," Luke replied.

"Uh huh. And?"

"Money?"

"Flash a little bit around and people are suddenly your best friend," Jess chuckled. "Especially if you offer to buy drinks. No one likes to turn down a free drink."

"What if none of that works?" Luke asked.

"Then you go to flirty and charming," Jess replied, finishing her makeup and grabbing her hand bag from the table. "Laugh at anything, even if it's not funny. Touch someone enough times to show you're interested. People can't resist being told they look handsome or beautiful. Some people crave being touched. Other people crave self-esteem boosts, and if you can give them that, you'll have them where you want them."

Luke was very new to the concept of guys liking girls. He'd learned enough at school to understand it all, but he felt nowhere near ready for anything like that. He had started noticing the way his father would look at his mother sometimes, and the noises he heard at night every now and then became understood. More often than not, they fought and yelled at each other, but sometimes his father's touch on his mother would be gentle. It confused the hell out of him.

They left together, going down the elevator, and Luke tugged at his collar absently. He felt like he was being choked by his tie, but he left it on. He was to blend in as best as he could.

"If anyone asks why you're here?" Jess asked as they slowed down for the floor of the party.

"I'm looking after people's coats and am on a break."

"Good. If that fails?"

"I'm lost and looking for my father."

"Excellent."

They went inside the ballroom where the party was going full swing. Luke followed his mother to a corner where not many people were watching. He sat down on a chair.

"Stay here," Jess ordered, going to mingle with the crowd. Luke didn't argue. His job was to record everything he saw. He got comfortable in the chair, pulling out the pad of paper and pen with his fingers. He jotted down different things he saw, which were mainly how many bodyguards there were in the place and where they were standing. He took note of their target and what drink they liked based on what was in their hand. He wrote down where all the exits and all the cameras were. After he surmised he'd gathered all pertinent information, he sat back and looked away from his mother, who was resting her hand on their target's shoulder. Johnny always said sometimes you had to do something for the good of the job, but Luke struggled with that one. How could his parents kiss and do stuff with someone else other than each other?

He spied an adult watching him, and he knew he was going to have to move in order to avoid being asked too many questions. He acted casual as he got up and melted into the crowd. He was very aware that he was the only child there, but no one paid him much attention as he dodged and weaved everyone. He was nearly invisible, which made him the perfect one for the job. He got all the information needed; now he just needed to get it to his mother. He found her again and jostled into her, tucking the piece of paper with his notes on it into her pocket.

"Watch it!" she exclaimed, sliding the room key into his. Luke felt relieved. She'd forgotten to give it to him earlier.

"Sorry," he said, slipping away before anyone tried to stop him. He made his way out of the party and headed back upstairs to their room. Once inside, he tugged off his tie and fell down on the bed, sighing. Now he just had to wait for his mother to come back.

...

Hours later, Luke was jolted awake to the sound of his mother crashing into the room. He sat up, bleary eyed. She turned the lights on and stumbled into view. There was blood on her dress.

"Mum?" he asked.

"We gotta go," she said. He felt frightened by her voice. What had happened?! She grabbed her backpack while Luke grabbed his. It was time to run. They walked out without any issues, his mother keeping him in front of her to hide the blood, but then bullets started to fly once they headed for the car. Jess grabbed Luke's hand, and they ran faster. Just before they reached it, she cried out, falling forward onto the car before sliding off and hitting the ground.

"Mum!" Luke cried. He saw the new blood on her and knew she'd been shot. She was gasping in pain.

"You have...to drive," she instructed between gasps. Luke felt frozen. He knew how because Johnny had insisted he know how. He just hadn't expected to actually be driving before he was of age to do so legally.

"I can't," he started.

"You can," she countered. "And you have to. I'm in too much pain. Don't let the fear stop you, Luke." She handed him the keys and crawled into the back seat. Luke got into the driver's seat and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands. He felt very scared, but he knew he had to do this. He couldn't let the fear stop him.

"Now!" she shouted as bullets struck the back of the car.

He threw it in gear and peeled out of the lot, skidding around the corner and onto the road. He could barely see over the dashboard, but he made do with it. He could hear his mother groaning in the backseat and pressed harder on the gas. He drove until they got to the safe house about twenty minutes later. He parked and twisted to look at his mother, who was now passed out in the backseat. He was so sure she was dead. He got out and screamed for his father.

Johnny burst out of the safe house and ran towards them. Luke stood to the side as his father picked Jess up and carried her inside in his arms. He followed, listening to his father mutter to himself as he set Jess down on a cot. Luke stood frozen as Johnny moved quickly to get their kit and other instruments he needed.

"Hang on, luv," Johnny said, unwrapping the gauze and getting to work. Luke watched in horror as his father dug out the bullet and removed it after sanitizing his tools and the wound as well. Jess groaned in pain the entire time, and Johnny kept talking to her in a soothing voice.

"Dad?" he asked after a moment when his father was wrapping her back up.

"Go clean the car," he ordered, not looking at him.

"But..."

"Now!"

Luke gave up trying to ask if his mother was going to be okay. He went to get the bleach and rags and went out to the car. They'd taught him how to get rid of evidence too; it was his least favorite job. The smell of the blood hit him hard, and his stomach rolled. He got out and looked at the bullet holes. He had no idea how to fix that. He left the license plate off, figuring his father was going to ditch the car.

He went back inside and found his father washing his hands and arms vigorously.

"Is she...?" Luke started, unable to say the word "dead."

"She'll be alright," Johnny answered. "Not her first time." He looked at Luke, who was pretty sure his misery and fear was on his face even though he was working hard to hide it. Johnny gave a sigh and reached to pat his shoulder.

"You got her back just in time, Luke," he said. "You saved her life. Good job." He patted again before walking by him towards the towel rack.

"I cleaned the car," Luke said, not knowing how to address the compliment, which was a rarity from Johnny. "I don't know what to do with the bullet holes." Johnny looked at him before swearing softly and reaching for a towel to dry off. He didn't say anything as he took the keys from Luke and disappeared out the door. He heard the car start moments later, and he knew his father was ditching it like he predicted. He knew Johnny would get a ride back somehow or walk.

Luke went to check on his mother, and she was breathing still. She wasn't awake, so he left her alone. He curled up in the chair across from her and watched her breathe. This was a reality check for him. He'd always known a mission could go bad and you could die, but seeing it firsthand was scaring him. He knew he had to get over that, though.

And he would.

Montana, U.S.

Rita rode Willow every chance she got. A month after Carol died, Lance approached her and suggested she talk to someone. He called the person a therapist, and Rita felt like she'd done something wrong.

"I'm okay," she insisted.

"No, you're not," he countered. "You've been through a lot, and you should talk to someone about it."

"I can talk to you."

"I'm not enough," he said, shaking his head. "I can't help like a counsellor can."

"I don't want to do it."

"Rita, it's not up for debate. You've got an appointment tomorrow afternoon."

Rita wanted to yell at him, but she didn't want to make him hurt anymore than he already was, so she held it in. She just nodded, and he nodded back, and they went about making dinner together. Rita fretted over meeting this counsellor. She didn't know what she'd say. She certainly wasn't going to talk about what Simon did to her. That made her feel bad and ashamed inside, and she didn't want anyone judging her for it.

She went outside after dinner and spent time with her animal friends. She knew her father was concerned that she didn't have friends her own age. She just didn't want them to find out about her pain. The animals could sense her pain, but they were just there to help her feel better. She always felt better when she was with them.

"Hi, Hank," she said as the donkey approached her. She slipped him a treat, and he chewed it noisily. She smiled, wondering what he was thinking. She wished he could talk. She moved on to the other animals and saved Willow for last.

"Hi, girl," she said, rubbing Willow's nose and running a hand over her mane. She enjoyed the warm air being blown back at her from Willow's nostrils. She stayed there talking about her anxiety around meeting the therapist tomorrow until her father called her in for bedtime.

"Thanks for listening," Rita whispered to Willow, kissing her snout before leaving. She didn't need a therapist. She had Willow.

If only she could get her father to see that.

...

The next day, Rita sat in front of the therapist. She felt intimidated by this woman, who was sitting there with her pad of paper and pen and was staring at her with a smile on her face. Rita wanted to hide under the table.

"I hear you've had a lot happen recently," Tammy said. She had insisted that Rita call her by her first name, which Rita found strange. She thought all adults were supposed to be addressed by their last name.

Rita said nothing. She just looked down at her feet. She didn't know what to say. Her father had already told Tammy about Carol, so what was left to say?

"Are you getting along with your father?" Tammy asked next. Rita felt fear in her chest. Would they think she was unhappy and send her away with Child Services? She had heard of that happening to some of the kids at school. She didn't want that either.

"Yes," she answered strongly.

"That's good. What do you like to do for fun?"

"Ride Willow," Rita answered. It was the most logical answer. Surely her father had already told Tammy this.

"Who is Willow?"

"My mum's horse."

"I see."

"Not Carol," Rita said, seeing that Tammy was misunderstanding. "My real mum. She died when I was born."

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry to hear that."

"I wish I had met her," Rita said wistfully.

"Do you imagine what she's like?"

"Sometimes." Rita liked talking about this. It wasn't as painful as the other things she knew her father wanted her to talk about. He had stopped asking her what Simon had done to her. She knew he'd seen some of the bruises over the years, so she let him think it was only physical assaults she received. She felt too ashamed to tell him about the rest of it anyway.

"Tell me more about that," Tammy said with a smile, and Rita did. She told her everything that she imagined about her mother, Rosie. Before she knew it, their hour was up, and Tammy walked her to the waiting room.

"Will I see you again?" Tammy asked, tilting her head at Rita. Lance was standing and waiting, not saying anything. It had been nice to talk about her mother. It made her father sad when she tried to talk to him about it.

"Okay," Rita agreed. Tammy smiled, and Rita smiled back. She liked her. Tammy gave another time to meet to Lance, and then she said her goodbyes. Rita took her father's hand and walked to the car with him.

"See?" he said once they were alone. "I told you she was nice."

"Yea," Rita said with a nod. She smiled as they drove home. Maybe she'd tell Tammy about what happened, and maybe she wouldn't. Time would tell.

London, U.K.

Luke's mother healed, but none of them talked about what had happened. No one came looking for them, and Amelia had let them know the heat was off, so they all could breathe a little easier. Jess was slow in her movements, and Johnny left her alone for the most part. Luke had nightmares about that night, but he kept them to himself. There was no sense in getting yelled at for being ridiculous. He was a big boy. He'd get over it, just like Johnny always told him.

His parents didn't go to work for a while, and Luke continued to train and go to school. He knew there were things his mother was waiting to train him for. She needed him to be a bit older. He knew eventually he'd be put to work. After all, who would expect a teenager to be an assassin? It was their ultimate secret weapon, something he was proud to be, or at least, he thought he was proud to be. He felt confused by everything lately, but he didn't dare voice it. This was who he was. This was his legacy.

He didn't know how to be anything else.

Before you get too mad at Lance, just know that more information is coming... :)