Um ok. So, I lied. I'd intended for this to become a series of one shots as I mentioned in part 1, as I thought it would make the storyline more dramatic. But I'm scratching that idea, I'm just going to put short chapters into a short story...key word, short. I'm not anticipating this to go past two or three more chaps,nor chapters that are all that long.I want to keep this story pretty vague, so y'all who are following along have something to think about. Sometimes, depending on the story, what's not said turns out to be better, and I hope this is one of them.

Things were moving quickly. Too quickly for Olivia. Suddenly this faceless stranger had a name, Karen she was called, and seemed to be everywhere Olivia turned. The night Daddy had first brought her to the house Olivia assumed had been all but forgotten; at any rate, no mention had ever been made to it, not by Daddy, nor Karen. But then, any words from Karen meant for Olivia or Mason were few and far between, spoken only when they elicited some kind of pointed comment or criticism. It wasn't long before Daddy started talking about marriage, which was almost more than Olivia could bear. She spent the greater part at her time while at the Walker manse trying to avoid Karen as it was, but if Daddy was serious…

But Olivia was about to discover just how much she didn't want Daddy asking this woman to be his wife, and it came in a form far behind the standard hard looks and cold, sardonic disparages.

"Who does that man and a half think he is, trying to reel in the boat in time for the shrimp dinner special at Le Cirque and nearly drowning us in the process?" Karen raged late one Saturday night, a Saturday that had been Karen free for Olivia up to now, since she and Daddy had left for a boating trip early in the morning. After a rather peaceful day of cartoons and a tea party she had managed to lure Mason to participate in by getting the cook to help her bake a triple fudge cake for it, she had gone downstairs for a glass of water and found the calm demeanor of the day about to come crashing down on her when she flicked on the kitchen lights and found a sullen Karen leaning against a spotless chrome counter, furiously nursing a drink. She got lividly to her feet which caused in Olivia a momentary tremor of fear before she realized Karen was just going for the mini bar. She watched as Karen dug through the liquor cabinet, retrieving a wine that Olivia knew was something special to Daddy--she didn't know why, just recalled his incessant warnings about no one ever laying so much as a finger on it.

"Let's just see how the Jolly Rich Giant feels when his precious imported Domaine Romanee Conti is missing," she seethed, moving to uncork it.

"Karen, no, that's--" Olivia knew the words were a mistake as soon as they left her mouth.

"That's what?" Karen prodded evenly.

"Daddy…he…doesn't want…that's his…he wouldn't like it if you…" Olivia's voice grew smaller as she went on, knowing she was fighting a losing battle.

"Did it occur to you," Karen hissed treacherously, "that I don't care what Daddy would or wouldn't like?…Or that I don't take well to a little girl who's age is apparently the same as her Daddy's IQ telling me no? Did it?"

"No…I…" Olivia searched desperately for a way to salvage the situation she was finding herself in and found none.

"Well, maybe I can help you out." She slammed the bottle down on her hardwood countertop, coming toward her with the darkness of a messenger of the devil, closing in on her as a lion on its prey. Olivia's mind had no time to process before an excruciating blow to the side of her head sent her crashing to the floor, and her head connecting with the edge of the counter on her way down reminded her vividly of the bruise that had lingered on her forehead for days after the night when she had been so greatly attempting not to be caught by her father, banging her head on the steps in the process. Her father, after kissing it the following morning, chose to pretend as if it was not there and never said a word about it. She squinted fearfully up at Karen, who was standing over her, a smirk firmly in place. Olivia felt her head gingerly, her small, nimble fingers coming in contact with blood. She brought her hand away from her head and in front of her face, staring at the sticky red substance in dismay, then back up at Karen, whose sneer had faltered slightly at the sight of the blood--what was that in her expression, fear? With a diminutive touch of guilt, or regret? But it was gone so quickly Olivia thought she must have imagined it, especially when Karen then yanked her up impatiently by the arm, ignoring Olivia's cry as pain shot through her at the force of it. Tears stung at Olivia's eyes in spite of her effort not to let them, and again she could have sworn she glimpsed Karen softening but she couldn't be sure as Karen pushed her toward the doorway.

"Go to bed," she ordered, "and be careful what you say next time. If you were really smart, you wouldn't say anything at all."

Olivia stumbled blindly to her bedroom, not bothering to see where her father had gotten to. She knew if he found out what had just occurred, surely he would chuck Karen out by her manicured fingers, but she couldn't think about that now. Her mind was too clouded to think about much of anything.

"Livvy…" It was only a soft whisper, but she gasped all the same, turning her head so quickly that anyone would have figured her for whiplash had they seen.

Her eyes meeting her chubby little brother's, who sat in his doorway watching her with an expression of sorrow.

"Why is she yelling at you?" he asked her softly. "Why do you got all that blood on you?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" she snapped, not meaning to, but unable to help it.

"Did she do that? Is that why there's blood?" He acted as if he hadn't heard her. "Where's Daddy?"

"Mason…" She knelt down in front of him. "Can you do some things for me?"

He nodded.

"Okay. Could you first not ask me questions?"

"But…" He quieted when he saw the pleading crossing her delicate features. "Okay."

"Good. And can you not tell Daddy what happened?"

"Yeah."

"And…" She swallowed hard. "Could I maybe…sleep in your room tonight?"

He bit his lower lip in thought. "Okay, Liv," he said finally, "you can sleep with me." He patted her hand, then wrinkled his nose. "Just tonight. And I don't want that blood on my pillow so you better get it off first."

She laughed quietly, thinking of all the times she would have paid someone to adopt him as their own son, especially on Thanksgiving when he devoured the pumpkin pie before she got to it, leaving her with apple. But tonight, she would have paid for him not to be taken away. Once in the bathroom, she spent a long time studying herself in the mirror, every now and again feeling the tender spot that was just beginning to bruise over. She splashed her face several times and made her way to Mason's room, where he had already dozed off. She crawled underneath the fire engine printed covers and sighed, willing her tears not to return, to stay where they were.

And for once, they did.