There's something at the end of this chapter that might sound strange, but I promise I'm going somehwere logical with it.

The song at the end is Morning Calls by Dashboard Confessional, from their CD A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar.

"Hi Mom," I greeted Monica the next day when I found her in the PC Grill. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was crazy. Who knew there were so many people in Port Charles?"

She laughed half-heartedly and gave me a quick hug. Her grip felt weak, and she looked pale. "How are you?" I asked.

She sat back down and seemed to think about her answer for a while. "Honestly, Em, I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I just haven't been feeling well the past little while."

"You've been going through a lot. You've been at the hospital everyday and with AJ being killed . . . mom, you've had more than your share to deal with."

"I know, but it still feels like something's wrong."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Yes." She sighed, and put her hand on top of mine. "I'm sorry, Em. I don't mean to tell you all this."

"You don't exactly have anyone else to talk to."

"I know, but you're my daughter. I shouldn't be burdening you."

"Mom, you're not only family, you're one of my best friends. If you need me, I'm always here."

She sighed again, and squeezed my hand. "You have no idea how much that means."

"Hi Millie!" Michael cried when I came to pick him up from the hospital that night.

"Hi Michael," I smiled. "Look, I drew a picture of your island today!" He brought out a painting of Spoon Island with him and I in front of it. I could see some real talent in his paintings. He had made me when I first started coming to see him, and his paintings had improved immensely. He was working with a recreational therapist, and I think painting had become a kind of release for him. I made a mental note to pick up a paint set for him.

"Are we going back to the island now?"

"Actually, I thought it might be a good idea for us to do some groceries."

"Dinner last night was fine," he said quickly. "We could just have that again." One thing that amazed me about Michael was that he still kept up his sense of humour after everything that had happened to him. I wished I could have said the same."

"I don't think your dad will forgive me if I let you have pure sugar for dinner two nights in a row."

"We don't have to tell him."

I sighed. "How about this- we'll do groceries, and then we can go to Kelly's for dinner."

He thought about it for a minute. "Can we share two deserts?"

"How about we share three?"

"Okay!" He agreed quickly. If only everyone could be bought so easily.

After two hours of grocery shopping, an Oreo sundae, triple chocolate cheesecake, Mississippi mud pie and wrestling with Michael to get in bed, I finally collapsed into bed. I felt exhausted, but at the same time, I didn't want to sleep. I hadn't been interested in sleep lately. I picked up the phone beside my bed and dialed Lucky's number in the darkness of my room.

"Emily!" he answered right away. I loved caller ID- Lucky didn't screen his calls by the answering machine anymore. "I was about to call you!"

"I guess I have good instincts then. What's going on?"

"Helena was just brought into the PCPD. Mac's already working on Nicholas's release."

My mind stopped working. Nicholas. Out of prison. Helena was back. And arrested now.

"Emily?"

"Yeah," I finally stammered. "I'm here."

"This is good news. Nicholas is coming home to you."

"That's great." And I meant it. I was truly happy that Nicholas would be coming home. It was good for him. My only problem was that when I got back, I would be his wife. And he'd want to be with me.

"Are you okay?"

I took a deep breath. "Lucky, I still haven't told him about the rape."

"Em . . ."

"I know, I know." Tears were forming behind my eyes. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed my eyes. "I know I should have told him, but I can't. Not yet."

"You're going to have to tell him at some point."

"Some point," I agreed quickly. "But not yet."

"You don't think Nicholas will know?"

"Lucky, I've only told you and Elizabeth. I'm not ready to tell him yet."

"He's your husband."

"But he looks just like my rapist!"

Lucky didn't say anything for a minute. Then two minutes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be. I should have thought of that. Do you want me to come over?"

I swallowed down the lump again. "No, no, I'm okay."

"Em, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Good. He's in court tomorrow at 11. He should be released right away."

"Thanks for letting me know."

"No problem. And Em, I love you. Don't forget it."

"I love you too. Oh, and, congratulations."

I could hear him grin over the phone. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow. And call me or Elizabeth if you need anything."

"I will. Bye."

"Bye."

I knew I would never call either of them. As much as I knew they would be there for me no matter what, they were happy. They were together again, and I didn't want to come in the way.

I wouldn't call anyone. No matter how badly I wanted to talk, I couldn't impose.

I turned on the light and just on the side of my bed, hands clasped in my lap. Slowly, I lowered my head down, and I felt a couple of tears slide down my cheek. I didn't make any noise, but the tears kept coming, hot and salty, fast and furious.

Pain had been welling up inside me for as long as I could remember. From the time when I was little and lost my dad, and when my mom died when I was fourteen. But I didn't want to feel sorry for myself, and I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me. I had been so lucky in so many other ways. With having the Quatermaines who took me in and loved me like their own daughter. With friends, best friends, like Lucky and Elizabeth. Having married the man that I loved more than life itself.

But this time the pain was bigger than me, and I didn't know what to do about it. I really did love Nikolas, and I did want to be with him, but the idea of making love still made me feel sick to my stomach.

I got up and started picking my clothes up off the floor. I had allowed my room to become a mess, and I didn't want Nikolas to come home to it.

Once I finished picking things up, I started dusting, and then went on to mopping the polished wood floors. Once I had finished with my room, I moved on to the other rooms that I had used in the past months. I had to have things right for Nikolas.

Finally, I was exhausted to the point of barely being able to move, but still not sleepy. I sighed and picked up a bottle of wine from the fridge, that I could reach from where I was sitting. It was the twist off kind. A glass or two of wine always helped calm my nerves.

Quickly one or two glasses turned into three or four. Eventually, I found myself emptying the bottle into my glass.

I looked at the glass in front of me. It had helped me calm my nerves, but I still hadn't figured out what to do about the next night. Nikolas would be back, and I couldn't be with him.

Then an idea formed in my head. I remembered a case study we had done about the effects of Viagra on women. It worked in kind of the same way on women as on men.

Maybe all I needed was a little help.

I finished off my glass on wine, and made my way slowly to the bedroom. I could be there for him. I finally felt a glimmer of hope.

And then I silently cried until Michael work up with a nightmare and needed my help. Then I sat in silence before the early morning light finally broke through my window.

Morning calls for pain relief,
a line above the step beneath
the worst that you could do.
And the best that you could hope for,
is hardly the best.

Tepid waters chase the pills
with turpentine and chamomile,
and don't get cheap on the wine.
You need to be up all of the time.

Shield your eyes, conceal your lies.

Don't blink. Everyone's watching.
They'll think that you're up to something.
They need for you to be everything
that they cannot be themselves.