Julie was slammed against the apartment door, almost losing her grip on her bags. The hall was empty, so there was no one there to help her. She highly doubted anyone would have anyway. Her father grabbed her hair again and rammed her forehead into the door. She suppressed her yelp of pain as he leaned in close.

"Open the fucking door, now," he ordered through clenched teeth.

She fumbled in her pocket for the key, almost dropping it. When her father saw this, he yanked her hair harder. "Quit being stupid and do what I said."

The door finally unlocked, it was pushed open wide as her father shoved her inside so hard she nearly hit the floor. He flicked on the lights and gave the main room a quick glance.

"You leave our nice home for this dump," he spat, picking her up off the ground by her hair.

Julie had let the groceries go, and was trying to pull her hair free of him, but his grip was too tight. She wanted to tell him how stupid it was for him to go bursting into someone's home without knowing anything about it. But that would have led to another slap or two, which she was too afraid to chance. Besides the twins still weren't home to protect her.

"Up, you worthless bitch," he growled. "Get on your fucking feet and start gathering the shit they stole."

He pushed her toward the bedroom door, sending her sprawling across the floor. She scrambled to her feet, reaching the door and opening it while her father stayed in the main room. Since he wasn't watching her, she tore frantically through everything in the room, looking for something to defend herself with. There were no more weapons under the bed, the brothers had taken those with them. She thought about crawling out of the window, but she was three stories up and the fire-escape was in the other room.

"What the fuck are you doing in there, Julie," her father called angrily from the other room.

She quickly ran to the big black bags and stuffed the few things she had puled out back inside. "I'm coming!"

Dragging two of the bags behind her, she went back into the main room. Her father was opening cabinets in the kitchen, pulling everything out onto the floor. She heard several dishes shatter, even the poor, worn coffee mugs she'd only seen them use once or twice. It made her cringe.

"Let's see how those little bastards like their privacy violated," her father chuckled cruelly. "Speaking of, where are those Irish pieces of shit?"

"They went out today," she replied nervously. "I don't know when they'll be back."

She hoped he would take the hint that maybe he shouldn't be there. But if there was one thing Julie could say her father was good at, it was planning ahead.

"Don't you worry," he replied gruffly, pulling out his shining, well-kept pocket knife. "If they show up, I can take care of them. They won't know what hit them."

Julie stared as the knife glittered in the light. She had felt the hilt a time or two being thumped against her head. Even the blade had had the chance to graze her skin once when she had tried to run away from him while he was beating her. It made her shudder, because even though she was sure Connor and Murphy had been wounded by worse things, there was no telling how dangerous the situation could get if they were surprised.

"There's more stuff than that," her father growled at her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She looked up at him dumbly, not understanding, and he slapped her in the face again. "Don't play dumb with me. They took more stuff than that. Go get it!"

Holding her jaw, she nodded and went back into the room to retrieve the other two bags of her things. She made another quick attempt to find anything that would help her. But still there was nothing. Maybe if she hadn't been frantic, desperate, she could have thought of something. But ever since she was little, her father's anger had always paralyzed her mind, like a frightened animal backed into a corner.

She didn't want to waste too much time or piss him off any more, so she grabbed the last two bags and dragged them in beside the others. Her father had moved on to overturning the boys' mattresses. It seemed childish to her, but there was no way she was going to tell him that. He came over to her, opening each bag and looking inside. With a grunt, he said "I guess that's probably all of it. Not like you had a lot of stuff anyway. Now lets get this shit down to the car. And when I get you home, I'll teach you to never pull a stunt like this again."

Julie nodded, trying to keep herself from crying. Picking up two bags, she turn toward the door. Her father's rough hand on her shoulder pulled her back around.

"What's that thing on your neck," he grumbled.

She raised a hand and felt the satin necklace and the Celtic cross. "It's just a necklace."

"Who gave it to you," he pressed, gripping his hand into her skin. "Those Irish bugs?"

She nodded weakly, wincing as he squeezed harder. He held out his other hand to her. "They probably stole it from some jewelry shop. Maybe I can pawn it for something useful. Give it to me."

"No," she replied before she could even consider it.

"What did you say," he father asked, face turning red. "Did you fucking tell me no?"

"I won't let you take it," she replied, backing away from him. "It's mine."

He reached a hand out to yank it off her, but she pulled back. He smacked her hard again, and a second later, his hands were wrapped around her neck, choking her. Julie fought to breathe, gurgling as she clawed at her father's hands. He showed no signs of letting go. She struggled, trying to get away, but his hands only tightened.

"Is it worth it, Julie," her father scowled, never loosening his grip. "Is that fucking necklace worth it?"

She looked him in the eye, trying to swallow and breath at the same time. A sort of calmness overtook her in that second as she watched the edges of her vision begin to go white. Raising her chin as much as she could, she gurgled out "Yes."

The hands tightened around her neck, and she wondered if he had completely crushed her windpipe. She knew she was on the verge of passing out, her vision was growing darker and her body losing strength. Closing her eyes, she realized the strange din she was hearing was blood rushing through her ears. It completely drowned out the sound of her trying to breathe and her father's cruel snicker. But there was one sound that made it through loud and clear, one she recognized.

Someone was opening the apartment door.