Hey few readers again! How are you? I'm good! Well I better post this before I go to a softball game. Thanks for the reviews… Um, btw, I decided to change Ava's speech a little bit because it was annoying… hehehe. Sorry for the wait.

Bex

Piper
"I'm going to go to bed! I'm exhausted." I say slowly, although my
stomach isn't sitting right.
Ava puts her finger to her lips, "Shhh! Don't wemind her about,"
She whispers, "Beddy bye. Silly aunt Bec!"
I still don't get why she calls me 'Aunt Becca', though I'm sure
there is a great reason behind it.
Behind me I can hear Prue mention something about putting Ava to sleep, and they're both climbing up the steps.

Prue taps my shoulder, "Can you help me put her to bed? Andy said he wouldn't be back till late, so I can't keep her up until he gets back. I'm not really good at this whole kid thing."

"Prue, of course you are, Ava likes you a lot." I say patting her shoulder. "Just read her a story."

"Okay. I'm gonna put her on my bed. Is that okay, do you think?" Prue tiredly wipes a piece of black hair out of her face and sighs.

"Yes Prue, just do what your instinct tells you." I say, "I'm really tired. Goodnight."

I close my door in her face and lie down in bed. I realize I truly am exhausted. I threw up about an hour ago, when Prue was downstairs with Ava. I have to say, I'm overly neurotic. I can't possibly imagine what would happen if Prue or Phoebe saw me. Ryder has stayed true to his promise, at least so far and hasn't told Phoebe. Prue is getting suspicious though, and she's definitely the one I worry about finding out. I rustle into my bed sheets, and there's nothing to do, but sleep.

Prue

And of course this is the time Piper ditches me. I have a hyper little child to deal with, and Piper ditches me. "Is this your room Poo? Its so pwetty!"

I gently pick her up, and shift her to my right arm, "Yes honey, and you get to sleep in this big bed, see it here?" I put her on it with a bounce, and to my dismay, she starts jumping on it, her tight curls bouncing in the air.

"No sleep!" She says loudly, "I'm not tired!"

I sit on the bed and make sure she doesn't fall off with all her jumping. "Honey you have to go to sleep, uncle Andy said…"

"I not going to sleep 'til uncle Andy comes back!" She announces, and I motion for her to stop.

I try to think of words of encouragement, "This is a big girls bed! You get to sleep in it, and its comfy."

"No!" She says, and starts to cry louder and louder. "I want my mommy! I want my uncle!" She throws herself onto the bed and lets tears run, soaking into the comforter.

I lean over to give her comforting words, stroking her soft silky hair and murmuring that it will be all right. I put my arms around her small body, and kiss the top of her head. I know how much it hurts when your parents aren't around. I wish to say, but of course, I keep my mouth shut. This little girl reminds me so much of… me, at least without the sisters. But I think she understands. Maybe not to the degree of death, but to the degree that she knows her mother is never coming back. And suddenly, I want to be that woman figure for her. I want to take care of her. I can't believe it, I've babysat her once, and now I want to become her mother.

"Shhh, baby, don't worry, you're safe. Uncle Andy will come home soon."

"Just Uncle Andy?" She says, sniffling.

I don't know what to say now, so I just hug her and rock her back and forth.

Phoebe

Once again, I am in front of the mirror, and my tired face is reflected back at me. There is a red mark on my face that is slowly turning into a purpled bruise. I wish I had gotten it by banging my head or whatever I told my sisters. I just wish this whole nightmare would leave me. I have never been good at seeing things coming. I mean these things… You never think they're going to happen to you, but then they do. Gingerly, I sweep my hand up to the bruise and try to figure out the intensity of it all. Imagining him does it for me all over again, and a sorrowful feeling lies in my throat. He seemed genuinely sorry for it. After all he couldn't help it, his dad is like that, it's what he's been raised to think is right. That still doesn't make it right. Even if I try to let go, I probably would just fall right down. He's a good thing, a very good guy, but he needs some guidance. Maybe I could guide him. Of course, I'm probably not the best for that job.

The light reflects back at me, shines in my eyes mockingly. There isn't a real me anymore, and I promised myself I would be who I always thought I was; someone who doesn't care, or maybe, someone who wants to care. I can't figure it out anymore.

But I should trust him; I need to trust him. Putting my head in my arms, I sigh, there is no need to think about this anymore, or ever. It just makes it worst. "Phoebe?" Prue knocks on my door quietly, as she doesn't want to wake Ava up.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"I'm sorry to bring this up now, but I really need my laundry done. It's your turn for laundry duty this week, and I would appreciate you pitching in."

I lift my head, feeling an urge to fight back, but I realize it isn't worth it. Prue has in fact been trying hard, dealing with money issues, and although Grams's social security is pulling through a bit, she has had to work on campus and somewhere else for a job. I don't really know much about it; she never talks about it. She doesn't want us to worry. And Piper has been cooking everything for us, so I guess I have to do the laundry. "Okay, sorry Prue." I locate my hamper, which is covered with clothes I have thrown carelessly over it, and tuck them in. The laundry basket has somehow ended up in my room, so I stuff the clothes into it.

"Thanks," Prue whispers into my door, and I can feel her smiling triumphantly, all because I didn't fight back.

Prue's laundry is outside her bedroom door, she has already thought ahead. I sift through her things, from simple white shirts, to lacy black bras. Picking them up with my thumb and forefinger as if they are poisonous bugs, I move to Piper's room. Trying not to make noise, I tiptoe into her dark room, hearing her assuring soft breathing, in and out, in and out. I pick up her clothes, which smell a bit funny and stuff them into the already overflowing basket. For some reason, she always buys clothes that are one size too big, so they are incredibly baggy on her petite shoulders.

"Phoebe?" She says in a groggy tired voice. Shit.

"Yea, it's just me. Go back to sleep." And her head flops back down, onto the bed. I wonder if she'll remember what she said last night.

I go down the long stairway, and stop at the basement stairs. I've always been afraid of the basement, ever since I was three, and Grams told me the story about the infamous "woogy-man". For some reason I still believe in it. It's just too bad that the laundry machine had to be in the basement. Of course, I have to think of it in perspective, what's worse, an abusive boyfriend or a fictional monster?

Tbc… reviews please, I am SOOO subtle… LOL, anyways hope u liked.