Writer's Note:

I'm soooo sorry for leaving this as long as I did. You know how it goes, life gets in the way. I didn't realize I had such a fanbase (yes, I know half of the comments were all from one person! I love you, number one fan!)

If anyone is left there, are you ready for some fanfiction!? WOOT!

Yeah, sorry. I'm writing the next instalment RIGHT NOW.

Uh, one other thing. I sorta decided Cammy's gonna be 15 now. Makes me feel not-so-guilty about what's to come for her on the island.

Okay, I just wrote the next chapter. Here it is. Enjoy!

Claire got attacked. Unless she was just imagining the whole thing, someone had attacked her. My mind immediately went to the most painful possible place.

Was it him? Was it Sawyer?

But I knew that wasn't the case. He was capable of being a jerk. An untrustworthy jerk. But he wasn't some sort of rapist or psycho-killer. No way.

And with that certainty came a different kind of fear.

Who the hell had it been?

I saw him, when I went to help bring water to the beach that morning. I nodded in his general direction on the way to the central area, but on the way back I couldn't pass by without finding out if he knew yet.

"Did you hear about Claire?" I asked bluntly.

"What about her?" I don't think he wanted to talk to me, but he wanted to know about Claire.

"She got . . . attacked, I guess. She woke up screaming in the middle of the night about how someone wanted to hurt her baby."

"Sure she's not just having a nightmare?"

"That's what Jack thinks." I answered. That made him scowl.

"And what do you think, Thursday?"

"I don't know. I guess I think someone did it." I stared at his face for a moment, because he was looking away and now was a rare opportunity for me to study his features without him noticing. Except he did. And he misinterpreted my gaze.

"You think it was me?" He asked angrily. "I know I've told you I'm no good, Cammy, but I wouldn't attack some unsuspecting pregnant chick, I wouldn't try to hurt a fucking baby!"

"When did you ever say you were no good?" I asked quietly.

"I'm saying it now. Stay away from me, for your own good, kid."

"Fine. I'll go back to the oh-so-safe caves you were recommending."

I took a few steps before he spoke, hesitantly. "Do you feel like you're in danger, there?"

"I'm not sure." I said truthfully. "But what option do I have? Jack's at the caves, and isn't he supposed to be the fearless leader? If I came back to the beach, who would protect me?" It was a challenge. I wanted so badly for him to say those two words. Just two words.

"You're right." He said. Wrong words. I was hoping for 'I would.' "I don't know what's going on on this rock, but you're probably pretty safe at the caves. Just . . . don't wander off alone at night, or anything stupid like that, okay?"

"Why should you tell me what not to do? Why should you give a flying fuck about my safety, anyway?" I said, far too heatedly. What had happened to calm, detached, dignified Cammy? Okay, I'd never really been her. When he didn't answer, I left. Back to what Shannon called the rape-caves. I'd wanted so badly for this to be an excuse to come back to the beach, and I'd foolishly wanted Sawyer to step up as my new protector. What a silly, silly girl I was.

In the back of my mind, I worried about Claire's attacker. I wondered what he'd wanted with her. If he was a simple rapist, why go after the inconvenient pregnant chick?

A simple rapist. Ha. But it was true, a rapist would scare me much less. Rape was one thing to me. The unknown, the possibilities of what that person could want, were quite another.

FWOOOOO

I had to sleep sometime. I'd stayed up nearly all of last night. As though this would do any good. Being awake would give me about five seconds' advantage. No, still not an advantage.

I often wondered whether I was being absolutely ridiculous. Maybe my fears were unfounded. Yeah, there were the memories of my last trip to Australia. Those were evidence. But he'd never actually gone through with it. Because he'd never had the chance, or because he was only playing, only fooling around? The visit had been two weeks, and I'd always wondered if, had it been three weeks, or even one day longer than it was, if I'd have made it. What started as inappropriate touching or comments evolved, over my visit, into something more and more aggressive. The day before I'd left, he'd gotten close. Too close. We'd been alone in the house, and had the garage door opened loudly, heralding the arrival of my sister, a few moments later . . .

But maybe I was wrong. Maybe he wouldn't have gone through with it, not really. For six months I wondered. And then before I knew it, I was back in Australia, and I didn't have to wonder any more. I was pretty sure, from the things he whispered in my ear, that he would have, had he had five more minutes alone with me. He would have. And all the time I'd spent in relief of what didn't happen, he'd spent in regret. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice, wouldn't let the opportunity pass him by again.

Which is why I sat, unarmed and unprepared, awake on my bed in my sister's house in Australia at two in the morning. There was still a week before that blessed plane would take me back home. The question was, when I got on it, would I be whole and relieved, again? Or would I be broken and sore?

In the morning, Debbie went to her part-time job. It was Sunday, and me and Jared had the cozy little house to ourselves. Around noon, when I was sure he was in the living room, I crept downstairs and into the kitchen for some much-needed food. But he heard the fridge open, and he was instantly behind me. He put hands on my hips, gently and passively, before sharply spinning me and slamming my body into the fridge I'd closed. He took a step forward, pressing his body against mine. A hand found my chin, forcing me to look up. I glared. He smiled. My heart raced, was this it?

"Later." He said, letting me go.

FWOOOO

A long while later, on the island, I once marvelled that Kate would never have allowed anyone to treat her like that. Not for any reason, not even mine. I wasn't sure if that made her more admirable than I, or less. Maybe, if she'd had a sister, she would have done what I did. Maybe. But still, I wished I could be her.