WARNING: this chapter contains violence, rape, and swearing. Please read with caution.

Chapter Four: "Can You Keep a Secret?"

Mary Anne

February 14

Dear Diary,

It's been a month, almost to the day, since Stacey moved in with us. So far, it has been a little weird and tense at times, especially since Logan has scared both of us more than once by waking me up in the middle of the night and shoving me in with Stacey (telling me to wake her up, too), while he goes downstairs with his gun to investigate a noise that he thought he heard. It's usually just Tigger or Samantha (the cats), or Stacey's pet chinchilla Arabelle (who makes a lot of noise at night), but Logan still freaks out every time he hears anything. I really wish I knew how to help him, Diary. He's getting so panicked sometimes, which does nothing for poor Stacey, who suffers (though I don't treat her and couldn't say for sure) from acute PTSD…

"You don't think that I'm crazy, do you?" Stacey asked at breakfast Valentine's Day morning.

Logan has just woken up and still had the foggy, blurry look about his face that meant that he wasn't really ready to engage in any kind of real conversation or cerebral functioning for the time being. He simply turned to stare at me, which, I decided, I would punish him for at some later point in the day.

"Stacey, why in the world would you say that?" I asked her. I carried my bowl of Raisin Bran to the table and poured milk into the bowl from the carton that Logan had left sitting out in front of him. "Why would you think you're crazy?"

"Well, besides that obvious?" she asked and I smiled. She glanced between Logan and me. "I'm all alone."

"Again with the crazy spinster talk?" Logan moaned miserably, staring down at his Lucky Charms like he wished he could disappear into the bowl.

"No!" Stacey said quickly. "I just meant I'm pretty and smart, right?"

"Yes…"

"So, it must be the crazy that makes men stay away from me." She sighed and looked down at the kitchen table. "I'm defective."

"Stacey McGill!" I gasped in shock and Logan set his spoon down.

"Don't talk like that, Stace," he warned her. "If you talk like that, you're going to start believing that bullshit and I know you don't really believe any of that."

She sighed again and poked at her breakfast lamely. "I guess."

"Stacey?" She looked up at me with wide eyes. "Is there something else going on right now? I mean, if you told us about it, maybe we could help."

Stacey opened her mouth and glanced a couple of times between Logan and me, clearly torn. "I don't know. I mean, I know you guys want to help me, but I don't think there's really anything that you can do about me."

"Are the nightmares getting worse?" I asked in my best clinically detached voice. She always seemed to respond best to that. She shrugged, tears springing to her eyes.

"Two or three times at night, at least," she said softly then burst into real tears. I started to reach out to touch her gently, but she brushed my hand away, giving me a meaningful look. "Listen, Mary Anne, I don't know what to do anymore, all right? The longer Teddy is gone and nobody knows where the hell he is, the worse all of my nightmares become and the bigger this ulcer in my stomach gets. I don't want to be some whining little brat about this and sound like I'm ungrateful, but I think that, for now at least, I just need some space." She wiped her cheeks quickly. "All right?"

"Of course," Logan said instantly.

I had a more difficult time agreeing. After all, it just wasn't it my nature to sit back and watch placidly while someone, especially someone I loved dearly, suffer the way Stacey obviously was. I folded my arms across my chest and rocked back in my seat, torn.

"Mary Anne?" Stacey asked in a tiny voice. "I mean, if you don't think that this is the best thing for me to be doing right now, I'm not going to push you two away from me-"

"Mary Anne," Logan cut Stacey off firmly, staring at me hard. I closed my eyes for a moment, shook my head slightly, and then sighed.

"No, you're right, Stacey," I told her calmly. "If you don't want us interfering and trailing you, we'll stop."

"I didn't mean that you were doing that," she whispered.

"Mary Anne, come on."

Yeah, come on, Mary Anne. Get a grip and leave the poor girl alone already.

I smiled warmly at Stacey and took one of her hands before she had the chance to sweep it away from me. "Just remember that we're still here if you need us, all right, Stace?"

She giggled. "Duh, of course."

"You girls are insane," Logan declared, pushing his chair back from the table. He looked pointedly at his watch. "Stace? You want a ride over to Kristy's? It's on my way to work anyways."

She nodded. "That would be great, Logan." She stopped to grab onto my head roughly and plant a sloppy kiss on the top. I started laughing and swatting at her to get her away from my head. "Thanks, Mary Anne. I'll see you later."

"It's Valentine's," Logan said, giving Stacey a push towards the door. "Maybe you ought to try and find a single friend to spend the night with."

I laughed as I heard the two of them bickering then began to clean up the kitchen. Somehow, I had Valentine's Day off and, here I was, stuck in the kitchen, washing my boyfriend's and my roommate's breakfast dishes.

Tres romantic.

FOUR

Dear Diary,

It's just you and me again, lover. Stacey's out and about for the day (and probably the evening and night, too, if Logan had anything to do with it) and Logan won't be home again until after work. Even though it's Valentine's, that boy always manages to work overtime and I really doubt that today will be any different from any other day. Even if he was making some big promises last night in bed. I guess, for now, my only lover is you and the mop and, no, I am not going to make dirty jokes about myself in my own diary. What kind of a weirdo does that?

Stacey let it slip that she has an ulcer today at breakfast. Great. Another something for me to worry over. Sometimes, I honestly don't know whether or not she's my best friend, my client, my roommate, or my little girl, the way my stomach is always twisting up in knots about her.

FOUR

The day passed by quietly. Around 2:30, the mailman came to drop off our usual stack of bills, plus a handful of a pink and red envelopes, addressed to each us of. I had a feeling that Kristy and her kids were in on the card swamping of our mailbox. Or, at least a very "bored and desperate to find something to do with her kids" Kristy was.

At about 3:30, Stacey called to tell me that she and Abby Stevenson had decided to celebrate the evening at Abby's by getting hammered and falling over completely drunk. I reminded Stacey several times that she couldn't get wasted like Abby could (though, Abby ought not to be getting that drunk, either) because of her diabetes. Stacey hung up after finally agreeing to be safe and careful, though she didn't see what the point in that was, in the long run.

Things only started to pick up around 4:45, when an unsuspicious knock at the door came and I hurried downstairs from my sewing to answer it.

Now, I had seen Teddy Thomas before, several times, in fact. There was the first time that any of us Stoneybrook girls met him before beating the ever-loving crap out of him. Then, I went and stayed by Stacey's side all through the three weeks of trial. However, with so many eye witnesses, not even the best lawyers could keep good old Teddy out of jail and before giving Stacey a long, yearning look, he shot me a positively murderous one first. I remember squaring my shoulders and biting off the urge to hold up a choice finger and telling him what he could go and do with himself now.

I didn't recognize him for a moment and I know he went through the same thing because we both smiled politely and warmly at one another before mine melted away and his grew positively greasy.

"Mary Anne, right?" he asked in a voice that sounded perfectly friendly and innocent as he held out his hand. It made me almost want to smile and nod. Instead, I simply thinned by lips into a crude version of a smile. The only thought running through my head was 'thank God that Stacey is out with Abby.' Over and over again, like a broken record or a skipping disc.

When I didn't respond to his warm gesture, he dropped his hand and looked over my shoulder and into the house. "Is Stacey home?"

"Get away from my house," I growled, finally dragging my voice up and out of me. It felt good to hear something so angry and savage directed at him. It made me feel braver than I knew I was. "I'm calling the police."

He grabbed onto my elbow as I started to turn and head to the telephone. I was surprised when it didn't hurt or pinch the way I thought his grip would. Instead, it was simply firm and steady, making it clear that I wasn't doing anything without his approval. I looked up into his eyes expectantly.

"What are you going to do, Teddy?" I asked. "What do you plan on doing?"

He smiled again and I knew why Stacey fell in love with him in the first place. "Honey, I can't tell you that. Even if I was going to kill you, do you think that I would want to run the risk of you surviving somehow and being able to help them hunt down me and my little girl?"

I wrenched my arm painfully free. Teddy made no move to recapture it. "She's not your little girl, Theodore," I snapped bitingly. "She's a grown woman and she's not your property that you can do whatever you want with."

Before I could really register what was happening, something struck me hard and fast across the face. I found myself reeling backwards, stumbling and trying to stay upright as my hands went to cradle my hot as fire cheek. Strong hands caught my shoulders and steadied me. I was looking up into his eyes, suddenly painfully aware that there was no place to go but through him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said sincerely, or at least in what sounded like a very sincere voice. "I really don't. All I want is to get Stacey and her things and get out of here, all right? Just tell me where she is and I can even apologize for losing my temper and slapping you like that."

I shook my head slowly. "You son of a bitch. There's no way in hell that I'm telling you where Stacey is."

He shrugged mildly. "I'll take a look for myself."

With that, he steered my still nonfunctioning body carefully away from the doorway and stepped inside my house. I stared at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes, shaking my head slowly as he did.

"Get out," I whispered, my voice trembling and threatening tears. Teddy ignored my protest and began to walk slowly towards the living room, as though he was actually nervous about disturbing anything. I felt tears well up in my eyes and my throat tighten with every single step he took. When he reached the living and picked up the picture holding the first picture of Logan and me together, way back in the eighth grade, something inside me snapped. "I said get out!"

Teddy turned to look at me, his face still pleasant and neutral, but I knew it was all an act. A sick, twisted little act designed just for me so that he could get at Stacey. I clenched my hands into fists and stood there, each of us staring at the other and daring the other to make the first move.

I made it.

Without much thought, I ran from the door and launched myself straight at Teddy, fully intending to rip his smug head off with my bare hands. I got a couple of good swings in before he ducked and grabbed me around the waist. Before I knew what was happening, the back of my head collided with a wall. It made a sickening thump. I gasped.

"Stay out of my way," Teddy said icily, no trace of friendliness on his face any longer. Maybe it was the knock on the head or my own outrage, but I swung another fist at him. He caught it effortlessly and spun me around to yank my arm up my back. "You stupid little bitch, why can't you just listen?"

I screamed as he twisted my fisted hand and I felt something snap in my wrist. Panting with pain, I couldn't stop him when he spun me back around and slammed me against the wall again.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" he growled, his face so close to mine I could smell what he ate for lunch. "How come?"

"She is my business," I retorted through my tears. "She's not yours anymore."

With that, Teddy decided to blacken my right eye and I sunk to the floor, feeling dazed from not only the punch, but from the resulting smash the back of my head made on the way again. Teddy took a step back, his chest heaving with rage. His foot lashed out and caught me in the chest.

Coughing and gasping for air and floundering with lucidity from all the pain, I sagged down to lie on the floor, my back to Teddy. A second kick, to where my kidneys were, landed, but it wasn't as hard as the first one, so I found myself giving thanks for little blessings.

I couldn't move as I heard Teddy storm away from me. Time began to run together like some kind of red hazed watercolor. I pressed my good hand down onto the ground as Teddy moved upstairs and dragged myself towards the portable phone. Clicking it on, I dialed 911 and waited.

"911 emergency," a bored voice answered.

"Help me," I hissed into the phone, nausea almost overcoming me. "Teddy is in my house."

"What?"

"Teddy Thomas!" I said louder. "He's here at 56 Orchard Street and is going to kill me!"

"All right," the woman's voice said, tight with tension and understanding of the situation. "I'm dispatching the police to that address."

"Oh, good." I sighed. "Will you stay on the phone-"

"You bitch!" Teddy shouted, ripped the phone from my hand, and threw it as hard as he could to the floor. We both watched as it smashed down, batteries and black casings rolling away, and my eyes wandered up to look into his.

"Go," I whispered, this time letting my fear come bleeding through. I didn't feel brave at all anymore.

"You're going to pay for that," he stated firmly and hauled me to my feet. Certain he was going to start hitting me again, I tried to pull away the moment I was up. Teddy jerked me back against him before grabbing painfully onto my waist, picking me up, and throwing me onto the couch. "Beatings don't work. There's only one way to teach your kind of woman how to behave."

I didn't have the mind to brush his hands away as he grabbed onto either side of the row of buttons holding my shirt together and pulled. Buttons scattered every which way and Teddy straddled me on Logan's couch. I struggled to pull away, to slip underneath him, use my slight figure to my advantage. Teddy swung his fist once more, hitting my cheek.

The blood at the corner of my mouth made me feel even sicker as Teddy ripped my skirt off in much the same manner as he had destroyed my shirt. The shirt I had picked out especially for Logan; it was a favorite of his. He laughed in my face at the tiny underwear that I was wearing, just for Logan's eyes, and, even though I struggled harder now, he slipped and ripped my underwear from my body. Instantly, I began to sob.

"Teddy, stop!" I whimpered as he loosened his own belt quickly and slid down his pressed jeans. "Please, don't do this. You don't have to do this."

"You're right." I narrowed my eyes. "But, it's fun."

Before I could respond to his horrible remark, he was ripping straight up through me. I screamed, unable to stop, as he tore flesh, shoving in violently. Teddy finally clamped a hand over my mouth as he fell into a jerking, destroying rhythm.

"I hate my partners to be so vocal," he laughed.

I closed my eyes and clenched my good hand around the throw blanket that I hadn't picked up last night after Logan and I finished watching a movie on this very couch.

This was all going to be over soon, I knew. Teddy would probably even kill me to make sure I couldn't tell anyone anything. It never occurred to me that my own body would be all the evidence anyone would need to know what had gone on here.

"Good girl," he whispered, lips close to my ear. I flinched away, squeezing my eyes shut tighter. "That's my girl."

I could only sob in response.

FOUR

Even if this is difficult and even if it is a little dangerous to have her living under our roof, I know that there's no way that I wouldn't protect Stacey. Even if it means putting myself in between her and Teddy. After everything she's been through, the very thought of her having to experience any more pain makes me want to shield her from the whole world. Even though I tell her at least ten times a day that I don't think Teddy will be able to find her, I still worry that I might be lying. After all, the three of us already know what kind of things Teddy is capable of.

Diary, I have to make sure that Stacey never reads you. I have to make sure that she never senses my unease and fear that I could be wrong.

FOUR

The world stopped moving and I nearly fell off from the shock.

Teddy was adjusting his clothing and looking around nervously. Maybe he was worried about the police, but who cared? I didn't anymore. Not now. He leaned down once more to whisper in my ear. I shuddered and squeezed my eyes shut as tight as possible.

"Can you keep a secret?" I didn't say anything, so he went on. "If Stacey isn't here the next time I come over, I will do this all again, even harder than today, then slit your pretty little throat for not telling me where she is."

Teddy's footsteps moved away and I listened as he slipped out the front door. My sobbing increased as he left, even though I knew I didn't have enough strength to cry for long.

I hated keeping secrets.