It was the eyes. Ange thought, those beautiful eyes. Ange's own eyes were gray. Her mother used to say they were silver, but to Ange they were dull, Glasgow, gray. But her daughters, were different, blue, green, gray. Ange wasn't sure, it depended on the light, and if She had been crying they looked more green. Her daughters eyes reminded her of a misty day on holiday in the highlands. Beautiful but dangerous. 100% Scottish. Just like her Chloe. The only way her daughter was anything like her father. Nature Vs Nurture. So she'd taken her baby girl and not let her leave her side until she was 1, and left her with her wonderful grandmother. Maybe if they nurtured the heck out of Chloe then that tiny bit of her nature, her father, wouldn't matter.

She'd had a heart to heart with Chloe that evening and was mostly relieved, that her daughter had eaten some cake, but even more so that Chloe had only asked about her brother's father, not her own. Because all Ange knew was the eyes. An evil man in a balaclava but those fiery eyes. Those beautiful and dangerous eyes. Chloe's eyes! She was sure Chloe would ask one day and she'd have to admit she knew nothing about him. He was never found, never charged, never convicted. That wasn't the scary thing, the scary thing was he knew her. He knew her name "Angel" he'd said it as he'd raped her. Yet another reason she'd dropped the L from the end of her name. She racked her brain over and over and couldn't think of anyone with those dangerous eyes.

She did a quick tidy of the kitchen and decided she'd head to bed to. She took a step into her bathroom and her heart dropped. A drop of blood on the floor. It was tiny but it was significant. Her daughter's blood, more likely than not from a self inflicted cut. But she'd seen her daughter since she'd last been in the bathroom, but she didn't see. Didn't notice a thing. Ange had a shower and wiped the blood off the floor. She opened the door to the spare room a crack. "Chloe?" She whispered quietly into the darkness. "Are you awake?"

"Yes" came her reply. Ange came in the room and turned on a small salt lamp she'd got on holiday with her daughter to Poland. It was very dull but illuminated the room a little and sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you okay Chloe?"

"I'm fine" her daughter replied. Which caused alarm bells to ring in Ange's head.

"Are you sure, because there was blood on the bathroom floor?" Ange asked and anger flashed into those beautiful, dangerous eyes.

"Time of the month?" Chloe said but it came out as more of a question than an answer, there eyes locked. And Chloe's lie collapsed. "I'm sorry mum," she said "it's the only thing that makes me feel calm."

"Let me look." It was a statement. It made Chloe cry with shame every time but her mum needed to see if she needed to pull out her huge first aid kit. She looked at her daughters hips. Full of cuts and scars but it never shocked her anymore, unlike the first time. No medical treatment was needed. "Mum?" Chloe asked barely audibly with little hiccups as she tried to control her tears "will you hold me, like you used to when I was sacred when I was wee."

Ange looked into her daughters eyes. "Is something scaring you, or worrying you? Making you anxious?"

Chloe took a breath as if she was about to say something then paused, let her breath out and shook her head "no mum, You know me...I'm just...me." She finished. It broke Ange's heart, wishing her daughter could confide in her. What was it? Work? Food? Friends? Dom? Evan? Ange pulled her daughter into her. Holding her like she always had. Whispering into her hair "yes you're you. You're Chloe, my daughter, beautiful, clever,brilliant, capable, kind.." she continued to whisper all her daughters positive attributes. She remembers back to when Chloe was small. A specific month, September 2001. It was far before Chloe's panic attacks started but 9/11 had happened. Chloe had slept with her mum the whole month, running to the door every time she came home from work, to check she was still alive. Ange worried but everyone else she knew with kids assured her it was normal for the children to be a little anxious. But she worried none the less. She knew her little girl was delicate, fragile, Chloe was an oxymoron strong yet fragile. Brave yet delicate. Maybe her reaction should have indicates that she might be predisposed to anxiety disorder. She was a law unto herself. She was Chloe, the only thing Ange would change about her daughter was that she wouldn't have to fight against her brain so often. Her brilliant, intelligent brain, that had a chemical imbalance somewhere deep inside which made Chloe suffer so much. Feeling her daughters heart beat against hers pulled Ange back into the present. "You will always come first to me Chloe, and Dom knows that. He has Carole, and Barry and me. But to me you are most important and you will always come first ok. I will always be here for you and you can tell me anything, you will always come first and matter more to me than anyone else ok?"

"Ok" came her daughters sleepy reply. Ange continued to hold her daughter and felt her breathing become slower and more regular and her heart rate slow. She went to leave the room and clicked off the salt lamp. But looked at her daughters small, sleeping form in her spare double bed, and climbed in beside her. She needed to be near her grown up baby. Chloe had always depended on Ange, needed her. But Ange had needed Chloe too, more than she'd ever let on. That tiny six pound 4 ounce baby placed in her arms all those years ago. The most wonderful thing out of the most awful circumstances. Being pregnant with Chloe had saved her. She could have self destructed after what had happened to her, the rape. But as soon as she realised that there might be a tiny life inside her, she realised that to look after that little life she had to look after herself. So she did. They depended on each other, Chloe just didn't realise it.