Burning tears blurred Andy's vision as she drove down the street. The salty liquid fell from her eyes and into the numerous cuts and bruises on her face. Her head was reeling from the past few hours.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't clearly straighten her thoughts. All she saw was the blinding white fury she felt. Every now and then, it did occur to her that she should go to Rittenhouse, but the thought quickly passed each time.

Seeing a red light vaguely resembling a stoplight, she stopped her car. Looking at the street, a pawnshop caught her eye.

Not even waiting for the light to turn green, Andy pulled her car over to the side of the street. Tightening her coat around her, she made her way into the shop.

Andy didn't even bother looking around at the place. One thing and one thing only occupied her mind.

"Can I help you ma'am?" A small, squirrelly man of at least 60 stood behind the counter.

Andy walked up to the counter and removed her wedding ring. Up until a few hours ago, when Andy looked at it, she felt pure euphoria. Now, however, she saw an evil darkness in it.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?"

"Fine." Andy didn't even bother to be polite as she walked up to the counter. "I need to make a trade." She placed the ring on the glass and slid it towards the man.

The man examined her ring. "This is a beautiful ring. What did you have in mind?"

Andy gazed around the store. "That." She pointed to a hand pistol.

If at all possible, Andy was now more confused than she had been before purchasing the gun. Only two things made sense to her right now: Les had hurt her, so she was going to hurt him.

In an attempt to drown out her conscious, she turned the car radio on.

"And that was Green Day with American Idiot. Now here's a new one from Kimberly Locke. It's called Wrong."

You presume I'm weak, presume I'm frail
But your presumptions won't prevail
I'm made of more than what you see
You tell me to twist
Tell me to bend
But I won't break to just to fit in
Just shut your mouth and listen up
I was so naïve
To let you have control of me
But now that I believe in me I know
You're wrong
And I'm strong
Unafraid, I'm moving on
'Cause I'm free to be me
Nobody tells me who to be
You're wrong
I'm strong
Unafraid I'm moving on
'Cause I'm free to be me
Nobody tells me who to be, yeah
I'm on the outside looking in
No longer do I pretend
To be something that I'm not
I don't run and I don't hide
Behind a comforting disguise
What you see is what you get
I was so naïve
To let you have control of me
But now that I believe in me I know
You're wrong
I'm strong
Unafraid, I'm moving on
'Cause I'm free to be me
Nobody tells me who to be
You're wrong
I'm strong
Unafraid, I'm moving on
'Cause I'm free to be me
Nobody tells me who to be, yeah
I wouldn't change a thing
'Cause life is how you grow
You live, you learn, and then you know
You're wrong
I'm strong
Unafraid, I'm moving on
'Cause I'm free to be me
Nobody tells me who to be
You're wrong
I'm strong
Unafraid, I'm moving on
'Cause I'm free to be me
Nobody tells me who to be, yeah

Listening to the song, Andy felt she could definitely relate to it. She had been stupid to allow Les to control her, but no more. She wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't weak and he was going to find that out the hard way.

Just as the song ended, Andy pulled into her driveway, right behind Les' car. She took a deep breath and patted the coat pocket holding the gun.

As she opened the front door, she drew the gun out.

Throwing the door open she walked inside to find Les sitting on his recliner with his back to the door, watching TV as if it was just another normal day.

Hearing the door creak, Les looked up to find his wife pointing a pistol straight at him.

"Andy…" Les cautiously stood up. "What are you doing?" He held his hands up in front of him in a calming motion.

"What's the matter Les?" Andy was shaking in anger as she spoke with a cold, emotionless voice. "Do I scare you?" She advanced towards Les as she spoke.

"Andy, just put-"

"SHUT UP!" Andy screeched at him. "Don't say my name! You have no right to say my name!"

For every step Andy took forward, Les took two backwards.

"Come on Les." Andy taunted him. "Come get me. What? Are you scared? Can't you over-power little me?" She was now a little less than a yard away from Les, who was backed up against the wall. In a shaky whisper, Andy spoke. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't pull this trigger."

Les just looked at the gun as he tried to think of something to say.

"God, you are pathetic. You can't even come up with a reason for your wretched existence." Andy moved her finger to the trigger. Just as she was about to commit murder, something stopped her. She couldn't fight it anymore. Her conscious was bubbling to the surface. Deep down she supposed she had always known that she could never actually pull the trigger, but the past few minutes of Les being at her mercy had given Andy back a little of her power. Looking at Les though, she saw herself begging at his feet. She refused to give him the satisfaction of dragging her down to his non-existent level of morals.

Seeing Andy's hesitation, Les made a quick spilt decision to save himself. He lunged at Andy and grabbed the gun.

Andy, though caught off guard at first by his attack, refused to allow Les to take the only sense of security she had. Both of them frantically fought for the gun.

Suddenly, a shot rang off. Someone had bumped the trigger, causing it to go off. The gun fell to the ground and Les backed off of Andy.

Andy's mouth was gaping open. She looked down. There was a dark stain rapidly forming on her blue shirt. The bullet had pierced her stomach, right above her right thigh.

Seeing the blood, Les freaked out and backed up. Andy slowly fell to her knees, clutching her wound. Only concerned for his own safety, Les grabbed his car keys and ran for the door.

Pain shot through Andy's body as she fell on her uninjured side. She had never experienced anything like this before. Slowly, darkness began creeping around her vision. Andy realized she was going to lose consciousness any minute. Her hand shaking violently, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and hastily called Rittenhouse.

"Hello, RWHC." Lana answered the phone.

"Lana." Andy was panting and her voice came out stressed and broken up.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"An…Andy." She struggled for her voice.

"Dr. Campbell? What's wrong?"

"Shot… st…st-stomach."

"Where are you?" There was a sense of urgency in Lana's voice as she realized the seriousness of Andy's condition.

Andy struggled to answer. "H…H…" Then with her last ounce of energy, "Home." Then the phone fell to the ground as Andy's head lulled down, her eyes closed.


Song credits go to Kimberly Locke (Second runner-up in season two of American Idol) for "Wrong". That's also where I got the title of the story.