Peyton woke stiff and groggy, curled in a foetal position on the edge of the bed, as far away as possible from a sprawled out Lucas. She pressed her small hands into her eyes as the previous nights events flooded her senses, immobilizing her. Much to her dismay, Lucas had simply laid down with his back to her when she'd demanded he tell her what she had to do to fix them. She'd consequently cried herself to sleep. He didn't have the answer, he didn't know what he could tell her to make it all better and in her fragile state she didn't foresee any way out of this nightmare she was currently living in. They were meant to be happy, but she was far from happy.

Peyton pulled back the bed sheets and sat up, her whole body aching as she stood and walked toward the bathroom. Her head was spinning, the effort of standing coinciding with a sudden wave of nausea. She stumbled through the doorway some what urgently, sinking to her bony knees and shuffling forward on the tiles. The bile crept up to the back of her throat and her shaking hands fell to the toilet, desperately trying to steady herself. She swallowed back the inevitable, fighting with every ounce of her. It was no good. Her whole body convulsed violently as she flung her head forward and heaved into the toilet bowl, the dead weight of her golden locks obscuring her vision. Finally, when there was nothing left inside of her, the retching fit slowly subsided with irregular bouts of throwing up a transparent fluid. Her trembling fingers rose, brushing her hair away from her face, her other hand flushing the toilet. She sighed, her eyes flickered closed as she attempted to catch her breath. Her stomach tightened with apprehension, her gaze pensively following her hand trailing over her lower abdomen. A long minute later she forced herself off the cold floor, scrambling to her feet and turning on the shower. As she stripped off, her stare lingered on the glaring bruises circling her wrists and painting her hips. She swallowed thickly, thankful for the invading steam rising and enveloping her, blurring her image as she crept through the glass door and under the cascade of hot water, hoping to forget her worries, if only for a little while.

An hour later Peyton was sat in her best friends living room. Lucas had still been dead to the world when she'd left her own house. She'd not wanted to wake him. She was well aware that he struggled to sleep these days and after his attack the previous night, she could only assume the more sleep he got, the better.

'Mummy look at me' Isabel chanted, expertly leaping off the sofa. The unexpected night spent at her god mother's had excited her and she was a little hyper to say the least.

Peyton briefly looked up. 'Don't jump on the furniture sweetie' She muttered drearily.

'She's alright' Brooke shook her head, more concerned with what was bothering her best friend. 'What's wrong P. Sawyer?'

'Mummy look'

'Nothing'

'Peyt, come on, talk to me' The brunette coaxed. 'Has something happened with Luke'

Her green eyes glazed over with immediate tears.

'Mummy look' Isabel moaned impatiently, bouncing back and forth in front of her. 'Watch me' She whined.

Peyton sighed, lifting her gaze to watch her roll across the floor in an attempted somersault . 'That's good baby'

'P?' Brooke moved to sit beside her.

'I...'

'Yes?'

'Mummy look' Isabel said in sing song, resigning to skipping round the sofa when she received no response.

'Did he have another attack?'

'No' Peyton shook her head. 'I feel...I feel like I'm being stupid'

'Mummy!?'

'You're not' Brooke cooed, interlocking their hands. 'Talk to me'

'Mumma?!'

'Hush Izzy, Mummy's talking. Play with your toys' Peyton exhaled heavily.

'What's wrong?' Brooke attempted again.

'Everything' She uttered. 'He, last night-'

'Mumma?! Mumma?! Mumma?!' Isabel's chant was becoming progressively annoying and it wasn't long until an exhausted, emotional Peyton snapped.

'For god sake just shut up' She barked angrily, rising to her feet. Isabel's jumping ceased. 'Just shut the hell up' The four year olds bottom lip dropped and her eyes grew wide. 'Urgh' Peyton groaned, storming from the room.

Brooke watched her innocent little god daughter sniffle and real tears begin to roll down her cherrub cheeks. Her motherly intuition immediately came into play. She lifted the small whimpering child into her arms, cradling her tightly. 'It's alright Iz'

'Mu-mummy ha-hates me' She sobbed.

'No, no. Of course she doesn't. You're her baby girl, she loves you. Mummy's just a bit stressed' Brooke reassured her, cupping her face in her smooth palms. 'Look you snuggle up here and' Brooke riffled through the dvd's, smiling at Isabel successfully. 'And you watch Peter Pan' She waved the case at the pouting child. 'Ok?'

'K' She mumbled with a thumb stuck in her mouth.

Brooke expertly put the film on, smiling sadly at the little girl before hesitantly leaving and wandering into her spacious kitchen. 'Peyt?' She rubbed her back as she joined her at the glass table.

'God I'm such a bad mum' Was Peyton's muffled reply.

'No' Brooke shook her head. 'Everyone snaps at their kids from time to time. You're a great mum' Peyton furrowed her brow and gave her a sceptical look. 'Really' Brooke insisted. 'Your only downfall is that you constantly doubt yourself'

'Did you see her face? Haley would never have yelled at Jamie like that and I-'

'Stop comparing yourself to Hales. Seriously if I'm half the mum you are one day I'll be happy-'

'Brooke-'

'You're perfect. Believe that. She'll have forgotten about it in an hour.'

Peyton nodded insecurely, touched by her friend's sincerity, unaware of Brooke's concerned gaze.

'Peyton?'

'Yeah?'

'What happened to your wrists?' Brooke questioned carefully, reaching out to take a hold of her hands, inspecting the evident wounds more carefully. Peyton's green eyes darted to her arms, conscientiously tugging the material of her long sleeved shirt down. 'Nothing'

'It doesn't look like nothing...did he do that?' Peyton twisted her wedding ring around her finger, staring at it absentmindedly. 'Peyton?' Brooke insisted.

She abruptly stood, she was less than eager to reveal the cause of her bruised wrists. She took a shaky breath, her gaze involuntarily falling on the mirror hanging above the mantel piece. A lump formed in her throat as she looked at herself, noticing for the first time, the blatant weight loss. Her hips and ribs protruded prominently through her thin t-shirt making her look anything but healthy. Her normal radiant blonde locks, hung listlessly. Her pale complexion only accentuating the purple sinkholes surrounding her wide ghostly eyes. 'God' She exclaimed loudly. Brooke immediately rose.

'Sweetie' She cooed, watching helplessly as Peyton crumbled onto her knees, her head buried in her shaking hands. 'Peyt' Brooke quickly joined her on the floor, an arm draped around her.

'Is it me?' She choked. 'It's me'

'What?'

'I-I've changed. Haven't I? Am I not the person he wants anymore Brooke?'

'Did he hurt you?'

'Maybe it's, maybe it's just me'

'What? No. Peyt no, of course it's not you. Answer me. Did he hurt you?'

'No' She shook her head adamantly. 'He just, he scared me'

'He needs serious help.'

'What if I've made him like this, what if I-'

'You've done nothing'

'God Brooke, he held me down and I just, I felt' She paused, covering her eyes with her hand. 'For a second I felt like it was, like he was psycho Derek, Ian...I ' a sob escaped her quivering lips. Brooke attempted to hug her but she shrugged her off, shaking her head furiously. 'How can I even think that?'

'Because he scared you, because he hurt you'

'He didn't hurt me'

'Sometimes the people we love can still hurt us Peyt. Lucas didn't mean to, he didn't intend to, he's not well' Peyton looked at her accusingly, ready to defend her husband in every sense. 'I've been looking stuff up on the Internet about people suffering from post traumatic stress-'

'He's not got a problem'

'I know you want to believe that honey, but everything points to this. It's not you that's the problem P. Sawyer. He needs help dealing with what happened while he was away'

Peyton was silent for a long time before she spoke again. 'I was sick for the fifth morning in a row today' The weary blonde announced out of no where. Brooke's hazel eyes narrowed, patiently waiting for her to elaborate and clarify the wild thoughts that were currently running through her mind. 'I think I'm pregnant.'

Brooke gulped audibly, sensing that perhaps she wasn't all too pleased 'That's great...right?'

'Not now, not right now. It's not great' Peyton choked out. 'This can't be happening'

'Have you taken a test?'

'No' Peyton sighed. 'I know though, I just know I am. I feel just like I did with Izzy' She muttered indifferently. Her innate maternal instinct together with the morning sickness she was already suffering was proof enough in her eyes. 'What am I meant to do?'

'You always said you wanted at least one more child' Brooke said gently, subtly trying to get her to see that this was a good thing. Maybe it wasn't great timing but maybe this is what they needed. What they both needed.

'We haven't even talked about it' Peyton whispered. 'And I...Isabel's just gotten used to the fact that Luke lives with us that he's her dad and that doesn't mean she's exactly thrilled about it, she's still getting used to the fact that she's got to share me and now I'm going to throw a baby into the mix too? This is the last thing she needs. I don't want to turn her world upside down Brooke, not again. She needs stability and-'

'P. Sawyer' Brooke placed her hands on her skinny shoulders. 'Isabel will adjust' She said confidently. 'I'm sure she'll love a little sibling. What do you want?'

'Me?' Peyton looked confused. She'd not even considered what she wanted, she was too busy thinking about everyone else around her. 'I-I just want to be happy, for Luke to be happy'

'You need to tell him'

Peyton bit her lip and nodded slightly. That's what she was scared of, she was unsure of how Lucas would react to this unexpected news and wasn't looking forward to finding out.