Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for a crazy mind.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews (: Now, I got some feedback on the last chapter and not all of it was positive. I'm not complaining because really, not everyone likes the same things I do. I know I hate Twilight and there are a lot of people who love it. I don't particularly care if someone dislikes my work. However, with that being said, there was one person who I believe took the term 'hating' way too far. Now, since they didn't leave me anyway in contacting them to reply, I'll reply at the end of the chapter because I don't want to clog up space now. I also want to say sorry if this chapter sucks. I've been a bit out of it lately what with all the other work I'm doing, so sorry if I didn't pick up on any mistakes.

Oh, before I forget! I'd like to say thanks for all the support I got after that silly, mean review! This chapter is dedicated to tivo, Greys has become my life, and to the lovely Erin (: Thanks for the kind words, the support, and the inspiration to continue kicking ass! (; Enjoy the next chapter and let me know what you think! (:

She could feel everything.

Her heart racing, squeezing and thumping hard against the confines of her chest, her throat constricting with emotion, strangling her until she couldn't breathe. Her muscles tensing, spine straightening, pupils dilating. She could feel panic clawing its way over her mind, taking over. She could feel anger rising slowly under everything else. And she felt the fear of not having an escape, the knowledge of confinement, holding her down, making her body seem heavier than it really is.

Neither of them moved, both watching, waiting for the other to jerk, to run, to pounce, to start their endless routine. Their eyes tracked over the opposite body, taking in the details, noticing the subtle changes from the last time they had seen each other. He had more stubble, she was paler. His eyes were unfocused and distant, her eyes were wide with fear–in her case, not much had changed.

Nothing happened at first. They were too mesmerized; too entranced by the hold they had on each other.

But then, as with everything else in their life, the spell broke.

"Get out," Lexie gritted out as she clenched her hands in fists at her sides. She had found her voice first, and Lexie knew that it gave her the advantage. She spoke first and so, she had the upper hand. "Get out of my room. Now."

His frown appeared immediately. "Why would I do that?" He asked, his words slurred and wavering in pitch.

She could feel the anger rising, the raw, naked urge to lash out. She wanted to run, she could feel the rush of adrenalin surging through her veins, and yet she stood still – the thought of moving and provoking a reaction from him too daunting. And so Lexie stood, fists ready, stance solid, eyes flaring. When she spoke, her voice was like ice – a vast difference to the fire she felt. "Because," she said coldly. "I told you to get out."

It made him laugh. It was loud and uncontrolled, as if it came from somewhere deep inside of him. Thatcher shook his head. "And because you said it, I'd do it? You…You really think I'd do something because you told me to?"

Although she swallowed nervously, her eyes were like steel as she replied, "Yes."

He laughed again and this time, Lexie saw the trembling in his hands and shoulders. She tensed as he staggered forward and then stopped, turning on his heel to walk over to her CD player. With heavy, clumsy fingers, he pressed all the buttons, waiting for the music to stop. When it did, Lexie could hear her own heavy breathing, the subtle thumping of her own heart.

"I…" Thatcher started as he ran his hand over the CD player. "I don't listen to women like you." He paused then and turned around, effectively resting his back against the desk. He narrowed his eyes at her and Lexie felt fists clench tighter. "I don't pay attention to filth like you because you aren't important. You aren't smart. I don't care what you have to say because you aren't important. You're not important. I don't care about what you have to say."

Lexie nodded slowly, her mind working quickly to come up with a solution. "Okay…"

Before she had a chance to think of something else to say, Thatcher spoke, his voice loud and overpowering. "You think because you're a doctor you can say anything to me and I'll listen to you. I won't listen to you. I refuse to listen to scum like you."

If he refused to listen to her, how was she going to get out of this situation? "Okay," she said calmly. "You don't have to listen to me–"

"I'm not going to!" Thatcher shouted firmly, the fire back in his eyes.

"But that won't stop me from speaking," Lexie said, her voice eerily quiet. "I'm not going to stop talking. You can stop listening to me but I won't stop talking."

It took him a moment to register what she was saying, but then Thatcher growled and pushed himself forward. He was pointing at her now, his finger shaking slightly as he tried to gain control. She wasn't allowed to have the control. "You're not allowed to speak," he spat as his lips snarled upwards. "I don't want you to talk to me!"

Her fingernails were beginning to make their marks in her skin, but Lexie kept her fists clenched, her stance projecting the image that she was ready to fight – a stark contrast to the voice she used. Her voice was quiet, calm, void from any anger or panic. She refused to alert him to the emotions he summoned in her. And so, Lexie remained calm although she was silently preparing herself for the fight that was to come.

"I don't care if you don't want to listen to me, and I don't care if you don't want me to talk to you," Lexie replied evenly. "You're not getting what you want this time."

She had done it.

Now, it seemed so simple.

Although there was nothing to alert the outside world to her achievement, Lexie felt something shift between them. His eyes had flickered with something–Lexie is sure it's shock–and her heart swelled with the knowledge that she had stood up for herself. Though she was fighting off the need to collapse because of the fear that was still inside her, Lexie had fought everything inside her and kept calm. As a result she had said something she had always dreamed of.

He isn't going to win. Not this time.

His response wasn't immediate. It took him a while to get over the initial shock, took a while for his hazy mind to process what she had said to him. But then, Lexie saw the moment when he found an answer. His jaw set and his eyes hardened. His body pushed forward, and Lexie instinctively took a step back. He wasn't getting her this time. He tried again and Lexie repeated her actions.

"Lexie!" Thatcher boomed as he suddenly lunged forward. He was too slow. She slipped out of his grips to run into the bathroom. "Lexie!" Thatcher called again and when he heard the lock sliding shut, he began slamming his fists on the bathroom door. "Lexie, you bitch! Open the door now!"

Although her chest was tight and it felt as if her heart was in her throat, Lexie felt the sense of triumph rush over her. "No," she shouted, her voice loud and unwavering. "No!"

He banged his hand against the door again. "Lexie!" He repeated the motion again and again until his hand was sore. He refused to give up until he got her out of the room. "Lexie. Get out of there now. Open this door or I'll, I'll crash it down!"

Lexie shook her head and backed away from the door to go and sit on the edge of the bathtub. "I won't listen to you," she called, repeating his words from earlier. "I don't care what you have to say because you aren't important." Lexie shook her head again and felt sudden laughter bubble out from her. She felt so liberated from being able to say anything to him without getting a slap for it. She grinned and then spat out, "I refuse to listen to scum like you."

She knew it angered him when she heard a loud crash. Faintly aware of it, Lexie thought he might have thrown something large at the door. It was only when the sound occurred again that Lexie began to frown. What could he possibly get his hands on? Her mind scanned through the items that she had in her bedroom. Her desk chair perhaps? As the sounds persisted, the thought that he could break down the door dawned on Lexie. She immediately narrowed her eyes and then looked around the bathroom. Her eyes suddenly fell on her razor. If she slammed it hard enough against the counter, the blade would break free from the plastic and she would be able to use it. But only if she needed to. And really, how sharp was it? Lexie rolled her eyes at her own contradicting thoughts when it came to her father. If it came down to it, if he was ready to hurt her, Lexie decided she would need to defend herself. She had given in too many times before. If her hand fell on the razor blade, she would use it to defend herself. Lexie was nearly convinced.

"Lexie!" Thatcher's booming voice distracted Lexie from her thoughts. "Come out now!"

Lexie rolled her eyes in frustration before shouting, "You can't make me! Just go away!"

"You fucking bitch," he shouted as he slammed his hand against the wood. His motions were becoming more frantic as his voice raised to a scream. "When I come in there–"

"I won't let you in!"

"When I come in there, I'm going to kill you!"

It should have fazed her, the sound of his scream should have been enough to make anyone shake with fear, but Lexie remained calm. The only sign that showed her fear was the fact her grip on the edge of the bathtub had caused her knuckles to turn white, a foreign pain shooting through her hands. But she wouldn't show her fear. She was afraid and she was worried but she wouldn't let him know that. He can't hurt her. Not anymore.

"I won't let you," Lexie called back. "You can't touch me."

His fist connected with the door again. And again. And again. Lexie began to count the hits. One, two, three, four, five. She wondered how long it would take before he began to bruise. Six, seven, eight, nine. Was he bleeding yet? Ten. Eleven. Would he crack the wood? Twelve. Would he get splinters? Thirteen. Fourteen. If he continued to do this, he would break the door. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Lexie dimly registered the fact it would be a lot of hassle to go shopping for another door.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

"God damn it!"

Before she could get to twenty, Lexie's head snapped up at the sound of Thatcher groaning in pain. She had to bite her tongue from calling out to see if he was okay. He must have caused a dent in the wood, he was probably bleeding.

"This is your fault! This is your fault, Lexie!" Thatcher spat as he wiped the blood off his knuckles. "And I can't get to the plasters because you won't open the door! What kind of daughter are you?" He shook his head in disgust. "You're useless."

Lexie waited for more insults but was instead greeted by the sound of a door slamming shut. She wasn't able to hear it, but she was sure he had locked her bedroom door on his way out. She was stuck.

Great.

Mark glanced down at his cell phone again. He had been contemplating calling Lexie for the last ten minutes but had yet to press the dial button. He sighed again and slammed the phone down onto the cafeteria table.

Callie raised her eyebrow as she watched Mark glare at his uneaten sandwich. "You gonna eat that?" She asked and when he didn't reply, Callie rolled her eyes. "Would you just call her already?"

Mark grunted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" Callie drawled before kicking Mark under the table. "Call her."

Although his head remained down, Mark's eyes looked up to narrow at Callie. "The kick wasn't necessary." He looked back down at his food. "I want to call her…"

"Then call her."

"It's her day off," he replied as if it explained everything.

Sadly, it didn't and only caused Callie to frown in confusion. "And that's going to stop you from calling her? Seriously?"

Mark groaned in annoyance. "I said I'd see her tonight. I shouldn't be phoning her now to…"

"To what?" Callie asked but when it dawned on her, she nearly laughed at the hilarity of the whole situation. "You don't want it to seem as if you're checking up on her?"

The only response she got was a reluctant grunt from Mark.

Callie shook her head. "Oh Mark," she smiled. "You really do like her, don't you?"

"Is that so surprising?" Mark asked as he pushed his food tray away from him.

"No, not really. Actually, yes. Yes, it is." Callie laughed and then teased, "Do you just want to hear the sound of her voice?"

Mark looked at her, deadpanned. "Don't you have another dirty bathroom to go kiss in?"

"Ha-ha," Callie replied, rolling her eyes at the joke. "Very funny. Stop avoiding the subject."

"There's no subject to avoid."

"Yes, there is!" Callie leant over and gently smacked Mark on the shoulder. "You and Lexie! I'm assuming it's serious now?"

Mark thought about it for a moment, although it wasn't needed as immediately he knew the answer was a solid yes. But he wasn't prepared to admit that to Callie. Or even Lexie. "No, we aren't serious."

"Then why the need to call her?"

"I have to tell her something," Mark replied defensively.

"No you don't. You just want to see if she's okay." Callie's eyes glittered mischievously. "You just want to see if she's thinking about you."

Mark snorted. "Oh please. Don't compare me to your own thoughts about a certain Peds–"

"Mark!" Callie interrupted. "This is about you and your feelings for someone who I can only assume is your girlfriend."

The use of the 'G' word made both of them pause and look up at each other. Was Lexie Mark's girlfriend? Mark knew they hadn't discussed it, but there was hardly any time lately to think about trivial things such as what to call each other. They've been preoccupied with other things, after all.

Not having a response, Mark shrugged and replied, "I'm just bored. That's why I want to phone her."

Callie looked down briefly, knowing that she had hit a cord inside of Mark by referring to Lexie as his girlfriend. So instead of discussing their relationship, Callie focused on the fact Mark hadn't actually dialed Lexie's number yet. "You haven't actually called her yet," Callie reminded him. She rolled her eyes when he began to glare at his cell. "Give me that thing," she muttered before grabbing the small phone off the table.

"Hey!" Mark shouted but wasn't able to grab the phone back as Callie had already dialed Lexie's number and now had the cell to her ear.

There was a moment of silence between the two friends as Mark watched Callie wait and then frown. "What is it?" He asked, only to be shushed by Callie.

"Damn it," she muttered, pulling the phone away from her ear. "Someone cut it off."

Instantly, Mark frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Callie said as she dropped the cell back onto the table. "I dialed; the phone rang but was cut off half way through the dialing tone. Lexie cut the call."

He should have felt panic, it should have alerted him to the fact something was wrong, but instead Mark felt angry. She had hung up on him. Why didn't she want to talk to him? He had been sitting here, worrying about her, wanting to know if she was alright, craving her voice, and as soon as he phoned, she hung up on him. She didn't think he was worth talking to. Instead of worrying about what was wrong with Lexie, Mark felt himself slowly regressing back to his old self. If she had better things to do than talk to him, then so did he. He shouldn't be wasting his time pining or thinking about her.

Still annoyed, Mark picked up his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. He wouldn't phone her again.

"Piece of junk," he muttered darkly as he carelessly threw the cell into the small trash can.

He didn't need any more distraction. He had to focus on getting his daughter out of the bathroom, so the last thing Thatcher needed was for her cell to ring again.

Thatcher stared at the wooden door, his eyes narrowing at the dent in the wood, the imprint of his fist. He could use that to his advantage.

He would get her out of there. Whether she liked it or not.

A/N: Sorry! I promise guys, give me roughly one or two more chapters of angst and then we're running to the happy ending finish line! Right, now I have just a few things to say to a review I got so, feel free to ignore this. I know they probably aren't even reading this and so this makes me look slightly crazy, but I just *really* need to get this off my chest. I'm one those people that if they don't say their piece, they'll go crazy inside. So:

Right. Liberty27, here is what I think. First of all, harsh words, mate. If you don't like my story, just stop reading and let it go. I'm sorry if I offended you in any way because that's the last thing I want to do. I know the topic I'm writing about is hard to deal with, but for you to disrespect the way I'm writing Lexie's reactions? I think it's out of line because honestly, I think the way I'm portraying her is realistic. I know it's realistic because that's the way I reacted. I never wanted to publically explain where I got my inspiration from, but if it will gain me just a little bit of understanding or respect, then I'm going to say it. I write from experience, always. Work it out. I can take someone slagging off my literary technique, or just my ability as a writer, because to me that's classified as constructive criticism and I'm doing this to better myself so I can take that. But to criticise the emotions and the actions, just because you think it's disgusting? It's just not cool. I know abuse is disgusting and I know it's tough, but it is realistic. I'm not jumping straight to that perfect ending because nothing is that easy, and I don't think it should be easy just because this is fiction.

For those who do like my story, and are reading this, there will be a happy ending – there's no doubt about that. I'm a firm believer in happy endings, but I like the drama, the angst and the suspense. It's what I'm good at, so I'm going to drag it out so that when everything is resolved, it just feels so much better. We haven't got long to go, I'm hoping this reaches 30 chapters and an epilogue, so just hang in there. After all, there will be a hero saving the day (;

But anyway, that was me getting off the point. Back to my point: I have placed a warning on my summary and I'm sincerely sorry that I didn't think to do that at the start. I'm sorry if you hate my work, I'm sorry I couldn't please everyone, but it annoys me that you're so untactful with your opinions. But anyway, so you hate my work, big deal. I just wished you could have said it without being so vile (:

Sorry for this being so long! I don't want anyone's eyes to bleed or anything from staring at the screen for so long! (;