Noah nervously fidgeted on the large leather sofa outside the small auditorium, where, right at that moment, a group of test subjects and sponsors were viewing the first cut of "Rudimentary".

He wasn't able to watch it with them; opting to wait outside. To say he was anxious was an understatement. Despite Luke's insistence he had nothing to worry about; Noah continued to struggle with an undercurrent of self-doubt.

The fact that this stage in the process should come this week of all weeks only aggravated the feelings.

Did he do enough?

He checked his watch and noted the time. By now the film would be over and the viewers busy with a serious of questions to discuss amongst themselves.

His phone beeped and he checked the display to find a text message from Luke.

"Stop beating yourself up! I know you'll do great!"

Noah's stomach flipped.

What if they hate it?

He almost jumped a foot in the air when the door opened and his screenwriter, Harvey Backer, exited the auditorium. Frustratingly, Noah was unable to read anything from the man's bearded face.

"How's it going?" Noah asked, twirling the phone in his hands.

"The viewers loved it." Harvey flatly said.

Noah frowned. "But that's good, right?"

"Oh yes! Brilliant! Except the sponsors aren't happy…"

Noah felt that sinking feeling. "Why not?"

Harvey sighed. "They think the ending's too depressing. They want it to be upbeat. They want the guy to get the girl… ya know?"

Noah irritably shook his head. "But… this isn't a romantic movie… Nathan's love life isn't the plot point. This is about showing how life doesn't always work out the way you plan…"

Harvey defensively held up both his hands. "Hey, preaching to the choir! I'm the writer, remember?"

"I'm sorry." Noah conceded. "But they're crazy if they think we're going to rewrite the ending! It negates the whole purpose! They can forget it!" He started pacing. "I mean… if overall the audience likes it then we can argue the case, right?"

"We can try."

Noah stopped his pacing and stared out the window at the production lot. He started shaking his hand back and forth. In fact, for some reason he couldn't explain, his entire body was shaking. He felt sick with stress.

"Noah?" Harvey asked; confused my Noah's sudden silence.

"It's not perfect," Noah whispered into the air; so softly Harvey didn't hear him.

"Sorry, what?"

Noah turned and looked at his friend. "It's not perfect."

Harvey laughed. "Well, nothing's perfect, Noah."

When Noah didn't join him in his joviality, Harvey frowned, really looking at the director. His expression fell in worry, "Noah?"

"It's not perfect."

…

Noah stood straight and pulled his shoulders back so they didn't slouch. He sucked his tummy flat; put the heels of his feet together and pointed his toes out at 45 degrees from the centre to create the perfect V-shape.

His hands were balled into fists, but not too tight; and he held both arms at his sides with only slightly bent elbows. He faced forward, keeping his chin level with the floor and focussing his gaze straight ahead.

He tried not to let his eyes shift to the right where she stood watching. But he was curious.

"Eyes forward!" The colonel demanded, catching Noah out on his lack of attention.

"Yes, sir," Noah replied, correcting his stance.

He waited until his father had completed his inspection of Noah's appearance, as well as the state of the house. This was a weekly ritual on a Saturday afternoon after Noah completed his chores.

Usually the colonel would find something Noah hadn't completed to task; and Noah would be punished for that. But today the colonel had a visitor; this woman with curly hazel hair that stood frustratingly just outside of Noah's peripheral vision.

His father was keen to get on with the introductions, so without further ado he released his son with a straight, "At ease."

Noah relaxed and for the first time got to really look at the pretty woman standing by the front door, both hands gripping a cream purse.

"Kacy, I'd like you to meet my son, Noah." Winston placed a hand on Noah's right shoulder and pushed his son forward toward the woman. "Noah, this is my good friend, Kacy Riley."

Noah thought Kacy had a nice smile. Her blue eyes sparkled and crinkled up at the sides.

"Hello, Noah," she said. "I'm so pleased to meet you at last. Your father is obviously very proud of you. He speaks about you all the time."

Noah felt a foreign sort of warmth from that statement. He wanted to ask whether it was true, but he didn't dare.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," he replied instead; taking her hand and shaking firmly.

"Your father tells me you're seven," she said, "but I can't believe that!" She released Noah's hand and turned to the colonel. "Winston, surely you must be wrong?"

Winston's eyebrows raised in question.

But before he could speak she laughed. "He must be at least twelve? Such an attractive young man already!"

Noah beamed from ear to ear. He didn't care if he looked stupid. He liked Kacy instantly.

Over the next few weeks, and then months, Kacy became a firm fixture in their lives as her relationship with Winston Mayer progressed.

In private, the colonel was his usual distant and difficult self. But with Kacy around he became a completely different person. Noah liked it. He soaked in the affection the colonel showed him, even though he couldn't be sure it was real. If anything, he was confused by it all.

One day, while he and Kacy were playing a game of snap at the kitchen table, she looked over at him with a serious expression.

"Noah," she gently asked, nervously tapping the playing cards on the table-top. "How would you feel if I were to move in here?"

Noah barely dared to hope. "You mean, live with us?"

She nodded. It was clear she was anxious over Noah's response.

Noah grinned, his lonely heart souring with possibility. "That would be awesome!"

He jumped up from the table and threw himself into her arms; drowning in the feeling of being wanted as she cupped the back of his head, pulling him to her.

"I'm so pleased you're happy Noah. I wasn't sure how you'd feel."

He pulled back to look at her. "What do you mean, Kacy?"

She waited a moment and then said, "You know… I'd never try to take her place, don't you?"

"Whose?"

"Your mom."

"Oh," Noah replied softly; feeling a little guilty that he hadn't even thought about it. Having no memory of his mother he didn't really understand why Kacy seemed so worried. "That's okay."

So Kacy moved in and, for a while, Noah began to believe in happy families.

But he should have known better.

At the time, Noah was really too young to understand there was only so long the colonel could keep his true nature hidden from his new live-in girlfriend.

It started small; just the occasional snapping when Kacy got in his way or did something he didn't like. Painful words she let slide. After all, everybody has their off days.

Gradually it progressed to shoving. The colonel would push Kacy so hard that she often fell over. He'd always apologise afterward; helping her up and promising to change his ways; work on his temper.

The first time Winston Mayer hit Kacy Riley, Noah was on hand; helping her by holding the icepack to her eye. She bravely smiled at him; but the look in her eyes made him feel ice cold inside.

One night, after a particularly stressful day at work, the colonel came home in a mood Noah hadn't seen in a very long time. But that he recognised instantly.

Immediately, Noah embodied his submissive state; sliding into the shadow of a corner. But Kacy wasn't so lucky. How could she have known?

Noah climbed into the cabinet under the sink to shelter from the raging storm that became the Mayer kitchen that night. He watched his father spit his abuse and beat Kacy to within an inch of her life.

He stayed in that cabinet for a full hour, shaking with a fear he'd never experience before. His father had a temper, sure. Noah had seen this plenty of times. But never had he witnessed the rage his father inflicted that night.

He waited until he was sure his father had gone to bed, before crawling over the kitchen floor and curling his body into the sobbing, trembling, bloody heap that was his father's beautiful new girlfriend.

He woke up before the sun had even clipped the horizon; still lying on the kitchen floor. But Kacy was gone.

That night was the last time he ever saw her.

A month later, Noah answered the front door to find two police officers standing there.

"Hello, young man," one of them said. "Is your father home?"

He stood outside the sitting room, listening in as they questioned his father over the whereabouts of Kacy Riley. Apparently her family had reported her missing and a friend of hers mentioned the colonel. Winston explained how he and Kacy were no longer together and the policemen left.

So Noah carried on. He fell perfectly in line with this father's schedule and routine and shut his memories of Kacy away. And he was fine. Everything was back to normal. He was perfect.

But one day he came home from school to an empty house. He stood in the centre of the sitting room, listening to this father's prized grandfather clock ticking its deep minutes away. His schoolbag dropped to the floor with a thud. When the clock began to chime something snapped and Noah's world went black.

Until…

"Are you listening to me?" The gruff voice was angry.

Noah blinked and his father's heated face loomed large before him. His upper arms throbbed where his father squeezed them tight as the colonel roughly shook him.

"What the hell have you done?" His father was yelling at him.

Disorientated, Noah didn't understand what he'd done to get his father so mad. The colonel screamed at him for a full ten minutes; before throwing his son back into the wall.

Noah fell like a ragdoll to the floor and, for the first time, he saw the state of the room.

The clock lay on its face across the floor, wooden splinters and glass shattered everywhere. The sofa's were turned over, the cushions ripped to shreds. There wasn't a lamp that had survived the angry frenzy that must have taken place.

Even the few pictures they had were smashed across the room.

Noah gasped, tears falling fast.

"Explain yourself!" Winston screamed, gesticulating at the room.

But Noah couldn't.

…

The studios were small but it still took Terry a while before she found the auditorium where Noah said he'd be. After asking three people for directions she turned a corner and spotted the universal sign for the toilets.

She tapped lightly on the door to the men's and waited a breath before pushing the door open; cautiously peeping inside. The row of urinals was empty and she sighed in relief.

"Noah?" she called.

"In here." There were three toilet cubicles and the quiet voice seemed to come from the central one.

Peeking under the door she could just glimpse Noah's giant shoes. He was sitting on the floor, leaning up against the stall.

Grateful she'd worn her black trousers that day she slid down the neighbouring cubicle door and bent up her knees.

"So…" she prompted, speaking through the closed door, "…I'm pleased you chose to call me, Noah."

She heard a sniff and a slight shuffling sound.

"Why's this happening?" he asked.

She heard him inhale deeply, as though trying to draw enough air into his lungs to lighten his load somehow.

"It was always going to happen sometime, Noah," she replied.

"But… I was fine…" he insisted. "I was."

She fondly smiled, knowing how untrue that was.

"Noah," she asked after a pause. "Have you ever said it out loud?"

"Said what?"

"Have you ever told anybody what happened?"

"Yes," he replied. "I told you. I told Luke."

"When you reported the crime… yes, you did. But have you ever actually said those three words?"

"I don't follow."

Speaking very clearly and slowly she said, "I… was… raped."

She actually heard him swallow that time, in that characteristic way of his.

"How's that supposed to help?" he asked. There was a tremor in his voice.

"Because," she replied, "when you can say it, then you've accepted it. Until then… you're simply hiding, Noah."

His head made a loud, hollow thump as it fell back into the cubicle wall. Before he spoke again he banged it back a few times more.

"Shit." He finally whispered. After another few minutes of contemplative silence and in a tone like a small boy he begged, "Please… don't tell Luke about this."

"I won't," she replied. "That'll be your job."