December 4, 1995

The first thing Ashley saw when she woke up was Mitch's worried face. "Oh baby, are you okay? You scared me so bad…we were havin a good time till you freaked out and went psychotic on me, and tripped, and oh baby-'

"Shutup! That's bullshit and you know it! GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, knowing him all too well. He had done this before. The first thing she noticed was she was still laying in the alleyway, the second, she was soaked with water, and extremely cold.

"I'm sorry baby, I love you. I'll never do it again-'

"STOP!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, tears filling her eyes. Then she said, in a very low, dangerous voice, "why am I all wet?"

"I tried to wake you up baby-'

"SHUTUP!" she screamed, and doubled over because her stomach hurt so bad.

Mitch's eyes flared with anger and he charged at her, knocking her on her side. Her left cheek scraped roughly against the ground, leaving bright red marks and dribbling blood. He rolled her on her back with his foot, and kicked her in the stomach a few times.

"There baby. Now who's sorry?" He growled, then walked away. Ashley lay, staring up at the sky. It must have been around five or so, because the sky was still dark and starry, yet Ashley could see a tinge of blue light faroff in the east. She sat up, as a tear rolled down her face. She furiously wiped it away, slapping herself in the process. She stood up, and walked back to her apartment to get ready for school.

December 6, 1995

"People, people PLEASE stop talking!" Maxwell cried exasperatedly at the over-worked actors milling about the stage. He finally roared loud enough to get them all quiet, and smiled at his work.

"Good, then. You all know how the play was supposed to be in January? Well they've moved the release date up to the 25th! Of December! Christmas!

"I've got kids at home!" one guy roared angrily.

"Don't worry, it'll be at night. Is that good for everyone?" The reluctant actors nodded their heads glumly. Ashley smiled. A place to be on Christmas.

She looked down at C.C., who was trying to give her some kind of signal. She finally got that C.C. was motioning for her to come over there. Maxwell dismissed everyone for the night, so Ashley bounded right up to her. "Yeah, C.C.?"

C.C. took hold of her wrist, and began to walk. Ashley yanked back forcefully. "I'd rather walk on my own, thankyou."

C.C. rolled her eyes and marched ahead of her. They finally came to Ashley's dressing room. "In" C.C. ordered, and they both entered. She shut the door and locked it.

"Brighton was in here watching you dress last week, and he said he saw bruises on your back." The sentence was said so simply it was as if Ashley and C.C. met at the supermarket.

"First of all, I don't have any bruises. Second of all, that brat shouldn't have been looking at me anyway."

"Prove it." C.C. said.

"Prove what?"

"That you have no bruises."

"Are you kidding me? I'm not taking my shirt off."

"Fine, I'll just alert child services to come take your father away then."

Ashley raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but something in C.C.'s eyes told her she was dead serious. Ashley's back bruises had faded considerably, and she tried putting some cover-up on them before the rehearsal. I should be fine she figured.

She gave C.C. a hideous glare, and turned around. She raised the back of the peasant top, revealing her back, completely free of any visible bruises. C.C. looked at her back in disbelief. "You can put your top down" she said heavily, her ears burning a bright red. "Look, kid, the boy told me and-

Ashley pulled the top down and whirled around in fury. Her eyes were burning with anger, her mouth quivering. "I..hate…spies…like that brat…and I hate…people…who assume. Don't….ever…tell me I don't know….what its like…ever…..just get….the hell out of here…"

C.C. looked at her once more, and left swiftly. Ashley sank to the floor on her knees, her body an aching mess.

December 7, 1995

"Do you know that number of that kid, Ashley?" C.C. asked Maxwell absently. He looked up, a bit surprised. "Why yes, I do."

"Well……can I have it?"

Niles opened his mouth, but Maxwell silenced him with a hand wave.

"Of course you can."

C.C. smiled. "I'm going to get an apple."

She left the room, and walked into the kitchen, where Fran and Sylvia were having an argument.

"I tell you, I can return a cookie!" Sylvia yelled.

"Why Ma? It's your favorite kind! Chocolate chip!" Fran inquired.

"Because, it TASTED like banana's!"

"Do you ever read the signs at the bakery?"

"Signs, shmigns. if it LOOKS like a chocolate chip cookie then it should BE a chocolate chip cookie."

C.C. rolled her eyes and left the kitchen, apple in hand. She returned to Maxwell's office, where he gave her the number to Ashley's apartment.