Disclaimer: I don't own them. :(

Thanks to mingsmommy for the wonderful beta and princessklutz04 for reading and nudging me along. :) All mistakes are my own.

Thank you to everyone who's been reading thus far. :)

I have finals week looming upon me, so posting the next chapter may be delayed due to intense cramming and no time to write.

The room right off the stairs used to be mine.

My parents always thought the bigger of the rooms should be left for the guests. I never minded; I didn't need huge amounts of space to keep me happy. But when the fighting started, I wished my room was bigger, so I could hide and escape the screaming.

I feel a tingle of fear work its way down my spine and settle in the pit of my stomach. Picking up my suitcases, I follow Mary up the stairs and try to absorb how different everything is. I don't remember the house looking this…inviting.

To the left of the staircase, the wall is covered with several different pictures. Some frames are red, some are black, some are white, all creating a kaleidoscope of life memories against the beige walls.

Each picture seems to glow with happiness. Leaning forward, I touch a black and white photo of a man and a woman, whom I assume are Mary and Frank, and have a hard time controlling my emotions. The blatant look of love in both their eyes makes my heart ache.

Mary stops in front of me and smiles. "That was taken the day before Frank and I got married. God, that was nearly forty years ago." Sighing contently to herself, Mary turns back towards the bedrooms and presses on.

The fear taking hold of me worsens as we near the bedroom, all the memories of my childhood starting to boil up from my subconscious, trying to command my attention. I don't know what to expect as she opens the door, but I feel like I'm being led straight to the gates of hell, awaiting the unknown.

I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until I feel my lungs burning for oxygen. Only as Mary opens the door do I release my held breath. She moves before me, pointing out features, busying herself with fluffing pillows, but I can't hear a word she's saying. Blood rushes to my ears, and I can only hear the rapid beat of my heart in my head.

The room is exactly the way I remember it, except fresher. The walls are almost the exact shade of pink, just updated and the chair rail has been painted white. A twin bed is placed under the window with two matching end tables on either side. On the wall directly opposite the bed, there's a dresser and a mirror. Next to the dresser, a door leading to the small half bath.

Setting my suitcases aside, I run my hand along the dresser, feeling the coolness of the wood underneath my fingertips. Mary turns to me with a small smile on her face. "I know it's not much, but will this do?"

I nod and manage to utter out a weak, raspy, "yes," before she continues speaking.

"The bathroom's without a shower, but at the end of the hall is a community bathroom you can use to wash up." She pauses, looking me over. "Lunch is in an hour, but I can make you something now if you'd like. You look like you've had a rough trip."

For the first time since I left, I feel the heavy weight of tiredness pull at my eyes. I want nothing more than to sleep and disappear for a few hours. "No, thank you, I'll be fine."

Mary nods, and walking to the door turns to me and says, "Enjoy your stay." She shuts the door behind her, leaving me surrounded by memories.

Looking up, I catch my gaze in the mirror. I almost jump back, shocked by the person starting back at me. I look like I've been run over and survived; my hair is sticking out in several different directions, there are deep, dark circles around my tired eyes and my skin is paler than normal. I lean closer and notice the light gone from my eyes, their color a muddied brown. This trip has already aged me well beyond my thirty-six years.

Turning away from my haggard appearance, I eye the bed. Toeing off my shoes, I sit on it, my weight depressing the mattress. I nearly let out a sigh as I move to lay my head against the pillow. Pulling my legs into the fetal position, I close my eyes and allow sleep to take over.

Everything seems different as I slam the car door and proceed into the building. I know nothing's changed, but really, everything's changed.

Walking towards the door, I feel like I'm floating, like the faintest of winds will pick me up and send me to places unknown. I don't feel like I'm anchored here any more. Part of me wants to be worried by this, but I chalk it up to time.

I step inside and shove my glasses on the top of my head. Once I would have been thrilled to walk through those doors, know my life had a purpose and that I was going to help people. Now, I feel nothing but despair and ugliness; no matter how hard I work, people will still choose to kill.

I see Judy and I wonder briefly if I should have even come here. Maybe seeing him at work was a stupid idea. My head has been filled with those.

Judy's normally smiling and pleasant face is painted with surprise and without taking her eyes off of me, she picks up the phone and dials what I assume is Gil's office. She tries to smile at me, but fails, her mouth simply twitching on her face. Two words—"She's here"—and she hangs up the phone.

He comes out nearly running, a sad and tired look drawn over his features. I feel sick and resist the urge to vomit all over the floor. All he does is continue to stare at me and I feel the eyes of the lab on us.

"You left me." His voice cracks.

I nod, tears starting to build up. "Yes."

"I hate you for that."

Tears roll down my cheeks, hot and wet, and I shake my head. "No, Gil, please…"

"I hate you for that," he repeats, more venom in his tone.

Taking a step forward, I cry out as he steps back, avoiding me. "I love you."

He sighs and stares at his feet. His voice is barely audible. "I loved you."

Waking with a start, I barely make it to the bathroom before I empty my stomach. Leaning back, I grab some toilet paper and wipe at my mouth. As I flush the toilet, I finally let my tears fall.

I don't remember it, but I must have crawled back to the bed and fell asleep. A groan escapes my lips as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and feel my tired muscles ache in protest. Rubbing at my eyes, I sit up and see Mary walking in with a tray of food. Setting it down, she turns to me with a smile.

"I didn't know what you liked," her voice is soft, "but I've got some tomato soup and a grilled cheese."

Softly, I hear my stomach rumble and realize it's probably been about sixteen hours since I last ate. "Thank you," I say, reaching for the grilled cheese.

Mary looks at me, her head at an angle and I feel like I'm being studied. Slowly, she beings to speak, "Long trip?"

I swallow and shake my head. "Vegas."

"Ah." A smile creeps up on her face. "Needed to get away from all the commotion?"

I stare down at the half eaten sandwich. "Something like that."

"Frank and I went there once. Thought it would be interesting to see what part of the country we were missing living here." She paused to sigh. "It was nice for a while, but the business of the whole town made it hard to think sometimes."

For the first time in what felt like years, I laughed. "I understand that."

"Well, I hope you find it relaxing here," she said with a smile. "I'll come get the tray when you're done."

Just as she was about to leave the room, I blurt out, "Wait!" She looks at me with quizzical glance and I wonderful if I should have just let her go. But there's a nagging curiosity tugging at me like a two-year-old at her mother's leg.

I don't know why, but I feel like I can open up to her.

"Yes, dear?" She steps back into the room, her soft smile ever present.

I look down at my hands as if hoping they have all the answers. I pick idly at my nails before looking back up at her. "How'd you come to own this place?" I finally ask, my voice soft and my eyes fixed on a random spot above her shoulder.

I thank whatever higher being there is she doesn't ask my why.

"Oh, well," Mary starts, moving further into the room and taking a seat on the small chair next to the dresser, "Frank and I were looking for a place to fix up and we'd heard of this place."

"Laura, this place is gonna be fantastic." Dad pulled Mom closer to him, his arm curling protectively around her waist. "It's gonna be something."

I look up at the house in wonder, wanting nothing more than to run around on the porch, but knowing I should stay put.

Mom looks up at Dad and smiles. "It's wonderful, John."

Turning towards me and Daniel, he smiles. "What do you kids think?"

Daniel scrunches up his nose, "It looks broken."

Dad just laughs. "We're gonna fix it up, son." Dad ruffles his hair and looks down at me. "What do you think, Sara?"

"I like it."

Mary lets out a soft sigh and continues speaking. "It was owned previously by a family, but it was a violent one, and apparently, the fighting escalated way past the point of angry words and fists."

I huddle under my bed, clinging desperately to the stuffed bear under my right arm. At nine, I felt too old to be drawing comfort from stuffed animals, but sometimes it was the only comfort I could find.

Their screams seem to echo across the floor, shaking everything, including me. The vibrations of their words travel through my bones and burrow deep down within me.

"What the fuck's your problem, Laura? Can't get a goddamned dinner on the table at a decent hour?"

A dish broke.

"Shit, John, you know I'm here every day, taking care of the house, taking care of the kids! I try my best!"

"Don't talk back to me, you stupid bitch!"

The sound of skin on skin resonated up the stairs.

Curling into the fetal position, I press my back against the wall and try to sleep in the dark corner under my bed.

Mary's voice got softer and softer as she spoke, as if trying to protect herself from the information she was telling. And I tried my best not to show any emotion, even though within me, I was a whirlwind of painful memories.

"I believe that poor mother was just trying to protect her children. But unfortunately, the courts didn't see it that way." Mary shook her head sadly.

"Daniel, what's going to happen to us?" I whisper, hoping to keep our conversation from the many policemen and various members of law enforcement moving in and out of the house.

His face never turns towards mine, only continues to stare out towards the ocean. He seems so strong sitting there, his face almost hard as stone, but his hands shake in his lap.

"I don't know, Sara."

Turning, I look back into the house, most of the men moving about blocking my view of the kitchen. I shudder at the thought of all that blood and resist the urge to vomit again. Looking down at my hands, I see the remnants of the blood I couldn't wash off and start shaking.

Mom's screams seem so loud as she's lead from the house in handcuffs, struggling against the two men leading her from the house. They push past Daniel and I and take her towards a squad car, forcing her into the back seat.

As they drive off, I see her face through the window, crying and yelling for her children.

"After everything was…cleaned up, they put the house back on the market and well, we found it. Knowing the history, we wanted to start fresh and make it new."

My voice is small and it's only now I notice I'm shaking, "That's quite a history."

Pushing herself from the chair, she stands and smoothes out her shirt. "It's like I always say, 'rich histories make rich people.' I suppose that's true for houses, too."

I make a wordless noise and watch as she moves towards the door. Picking up the tray and my half eaten lunch, she turns back and gives me a quick smile before leaving the room.