She managed to get through a week of the show, and the searing pain between her legs finally began to fade. The first day back, it had hurt so badly; every twist, every turn, but she couldn't stop dancing. Stopping meant going home directly after school, and that was something she did not want to do. The redness and swollenness of her cheek had faded enough by the time she went back to school that no one noticed, and she didn't have to use much make-up to cover the rest of the minor scratches and bruises. Though her feet didn't want to cooperate, didn't want to twist and mambo and mashed potato, she pushed herself, because it was the only thing she could do.

She had been so late within the last week at coming home that her mother had bluntly told her that Chip had decided she needed to be home by eight o'clock each night. She had wanted to protest, of course, but he had been right there, and she hadn't been able to move her eyes from the floor. She had nodded in compliance, and locked herself in her bedroom for the night, cursing silently at him once she had crawled beneath the blankets.

During the day, she could pretend to be okay. She could pretend to smile and laugh and everything would be fine. Everyone would believe her lies, and if she really tried, she could make herself start to believe them too. But that was only during the day, when she was surrounded by lots of other people, none of them Chip. Night was a different story.

If she'd had trouble sleeping before, it was a million times worse now. Sometimes, if Chip had been particularly testy with her that day or looked at her a little too long, her wounds would begin to ache again. On those nights, she would pull the vanity from its space in the corner of her room, and block her door. That was for extra protection. It helped her slip into an uneasy sleep, and she had spent the last week in that state of rest. She usually got about three hours of sleep per night with the vanity in front of the door, and it was barely enough to keep her from sleeping in school. She always turned her head away from her classmates and tried to sleep in school, but the teachers always caught her. She'd already been threatened with detention, and most days wished they would actually send her there. The detention kids could do whatever they wanted. They had no idea that they had more freedom than even she did. She envied them. She tried to remind herself that it was less than two months; two months until she turned eighteen, and could escape the confines of her prison cell. She could move far away, never see him again. It was the only fantasy she'd had since he'd arrived, though now more than ever.

Because it was demanded of her to be home by eight o'clock, she was forced to ride the bus home with the other council members. Before Chip had come into their lives, and she had ridden the bus home, she'd always sat with Link. It was like an unspoken rule, and everyone expected it of them. She hadn't spoken to him since he had stood her up, and he hadn't looked particularly guilty or sorry for what he had done. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that if he had picked her, if they had gone to the hop, maybe this wouldn't have happened to her. Maybe she wouldn't have nightmares in the few hours of sleep she did manage to get. Maybe she wouldn't feel so horribly filthy and disgusting all the time. Just maybe.

It was the first time she'd been on the bus since before he'd arrived, and she let herself push through the row and towards the back, sliding gently into a seat. The other council members looked at her strangely, as if she didn't belong there. Maybe they were right; maybe she didn't. She sure didn't feel like it. She didn't think that she fit in with their happy, smiling faces. She knew that they didn't have to pretend to laugh; it just came natural. It was supposed to, after all, for teenage girls. It was supposed to be a time of slumber parties and gossip, telephone calls that lasted for hours and first dates. Amber had been the queen of that once; before she became the horrible, charred remains of nothing that she was now. It seemed like a different life.

The ride home was uncomfortable, physically and emotionally. The bus hit the potholes in the road, bumping her seat and sending sharp pains through her abdomen. She let her eyes remain fixed on the windows, as the others around her fell eerily silent. She let her eyes graze the group of her peers once, and noticed that Link wasn't looking at her. His blue eyes gazed stoically at the seat in front of him. She hoped that he felt guilty. It was all she could do anymore; hope. Hope that Chip would die, hope that her mother would come to her senses and kick him out of their house. Hope didn't help much, especially for the hopeless.

When the bus pulled to her stop, she stood slowly and walked down the aisle, all eyes following her as she went. She clutched her books tightly against her chest, and heard the few, desperate cries of goodbye from Tammy and Darla before she gave them a tight smile and descended the stairs of the bus, her feet finally hitting the sidewalk. She swallowed hard as the bus pulled away, and she hesitated before climbing the stairs to the porch. She glanced casually down at her watch. 8:05. Shit. Shit!

There was no more time for hesitance, and she raced up the stairs, ignoring the shooting pain and pushed through the front door. She held her breath, trying to slip through the living room and into her bedroom before he saw her. She was starving, but food would have to wait. She'd trained her body to eat when it was safe to do so, not when her stomach decided to growl. As she walked through the living room, she noticed that his greasy smell wasn't as pungent as it normally was, and she quickly spotted Velma in an adjacent hallway. She wanted to call out to her, but was afraid to be overheard. She scurried towards her, still clutching her books.

"Mom!" The word was barely more than a whisper, and Velma looked up from where she stood, gazing into her closet.

She arched an eyebrow at Amber.

"Yes?"

Amber let her eyes dart around the room.

"Where is he?"

"Where is who?" Velma responded, so nonchalantly that it made Amber want to scream. The man who had destroyed her life, who had robbed her of something he had no right to take. The man who had single-handedly made her life miserable; that's who.

"Chip," she tried not to roll her eyes. She needed her mother's confidence. Needed her to listen without judgment for once in her life.

"Oh, him. He went out of town on business for a few days."

It was the most glorious news she had ever heard. Suddenly, Amber knew that she needed to tell her mother what had happened. She needed to make her see that he was evil. Surely, even she could understand that.

"Mom, I need to talk to you." She could feel the lump growing in her throat and Velma sighed exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Fine, talk!"

"I need you to listen," she reached one hand out, gently touching her mother's bare arm. Velma recoiled like a snake, placing her bony fingers on her tiny hips.

"I'm listening," she hissed the words back at her. Amber took a deep breath.

"I need to talk to you about Chip." She could barely get the words out, and felt the knot in her stomach grow, and wanted to cry, but couldn't. She hadn't, not since that night. She felt her lips beginning to tremble, and looked away for a moment. "Mom, you won't believe what he's done."

She was so desperate for some kind of sympathy from Velma, anything. A touch, a hug, a kiss. But she remained cold as ice, watching her with steely blue eyes.

"Mom, he-"

The doorbell rang suddenly, and Amber sucked in her breath. She pressed herself against the wall; she knew it was him. He had heard her, somehow, and he had come to get her. This was it. She was going to die tonight, she knew it.

"Ugh," Velma groaned, "go and answer the door, I'm trying to decide which dress to wear tonight."

"Tonight?" Amber felt panicked, "Why? Where are you going?"

"Out," Velma responded, "get the door, Amber."

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. She tried to grab for Velma, but she pulled out of her reach, moving so that she slammed the bedroom door in Amber's face. Her legs trembled as she walked to the front door, her heart pounding. She placed her hand on the knob and prepared herself for the heavy blow that was inevitably to follow. She felt her belly clench, and the pain between her legs started again. Slowly, she pulled the door open, letting a dry sob wrack her body as she saw the man on the porch.

"Corny?" It was such a shock to her that he looked confused suddenly.

"Amber?" He tried to mock her expression, smirking at her, but she was too terrified to realize it.

"What…what are you doing here?" She stammered the words, her hand clutching the doorknob.

"What, were you expecting someone else?" He grinned good-naturedly at her, and she watched him, finally shaking her head quickly.

"No. No. I just…wasn't expecting you."

He nodded.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting to drop by, but…" he held an arm out to her, and she recognized the white sweater draped over his forearm as her own, "I believe you forgot this at the studio. I thought you might get cold on your way to school tomorrow without it."

She nodded dumbly, reaching out to take the soft garment from him, her eyes falling upon it as she hugged it against her chest.

"Thank you." She didn't even realize that it was the first time anyone had actually admitted to caring about her; if she had, she might have wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Instead, she stared at the pile of cloth in her hands.

"Amber," he said her voice again, "are you sure everything is all right?" He hesitated for a moment, "You can tell me, you know. I don't bite."

But Chip did.

The thought made her shudder, and she gasped for air suddenly.

"No, I'm fine. I'm really fine," she said the words as convincingly as she could, and took a step back into the house. It was a step away from him, away from the danger of telling him anything. He could not get involved in this; it was her problem, and no one else's. "Thanks again for the sweater. I really have to go, though, I've got homework." She stepped into the house, shutting the door against him. It was the best way she knew how to block him out.

She hugged the sweater, and hurried to Velma's bedroom again. The door was still closed. She rapped her fingernail against it lightly.

"Mom?" She pushed it open a crack, to find Velma already in bed, the lights out. She felt her face flush with anger. "Mother! I really need to speak with you."

She could see Velma flinch, and move slowly to pull down her eye mask.

"Christ's Sake, what is it?" Her tone wasn't kind, or understanding. Velma wasn't any of those things, but she had to try.

"Mom," her chest heaved, and she sobbed, "It's Chip." She tried to find her breath, and could feel the frustrating burn of tears, though she knew none would come. "Mom, he touched me." It was the hardest thing she'd ever said, and the words felt ugly and filthy as she pushed them out, "No, not touched. He hurt me, Mother." Words couldn't describe the hurt, the pain he had inflicted upon her, so she didn't even try.

"What?" Velma ripped her mask off, and for a moment, Amber knew everything would be better. Velma wasn't an awful mother, she wasn't going to stand by and let some worthless scumbag hurt-

"You liar!" She hissed the words at Amber, who recoiled sharply. "You filthy little brat!"

"What?" It came out as a gasp, "No! Mother, I'm not-"

"How dare you accuse that man of even looking at you the wrong way! You're disgusting!" She spat the words at her daughter, and Amber pushed herself against the wall.

"Mother, you don't understand! You don't see how he is! He's a monster!"

"You're the only monster in this house," Velma's voice was cold as ice, "shut your mouth, and get the hell out of my room."

She slipped the eye-mask over her face again and slumped down into the bed. She could feel her body shaking with rage, and she let out a high-pitched shriek before falling out of the room, her hands slamming the door shut behind her as she pelted herself into the living room. She knew she was screaming something, though the words were unrecognizable, even to her. She let mouth say everything she could think of, let herself scream the words at her mother without abandon, and before she realized it, her feet were carrying her down the front steps and into the streets of the city.

She wasn't completely sure where she was going, but it was anywhere but there. Anywhere from that place; that place that made Hell enviable. She let herself break into a full run, her arms still carrying the sweater that Corny had given to her just moments before. The flats of her feet hit the pavement, and it hurt like hell, but she let herself run. Past street lights, past houses, past all of the stores that were closed for the night. She didn't know how long she'd been running for, but it felt like she had been split in half again, and she finally let herself collapse near a bench that sat at the edge of a park, that was at least a mile and a half from her home. She curled herself into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest, pressing her eyes shut tight.

That was where Corny found her, just moments later.