Sophia. It all started - or, rather, it all ended - with Sophia.

Carol had never been strong. Ever since she married Ed, she'd been willing to take it all. She'd accepted harsh words and heavy fists as easily as she'd accepted the cheap, dime-store bouquet of flowers he'd given her when they first met. She still had them, somewhere. The flowers had long since dried out, but she had preserved them, desiccated reminders of the life she'd wanted. She had chosen Ed and, for better or worse, she was staying with him. She didn't want to face the consequences if she tried to leave.

She got good at hiding what was going on. For one thing, she barely left the house. The only times she did were to pick up Sophia from school and to go grocery shopping. Even when she did leave, only a few noticed the bruises beneath her carefully applied makeup, long-sleeved shirts, and dark sunglasses. Her personality wasn't her own, but it kept her alive and reasonably safe; playing meek and innocent gave her an edge, and she put all the feeling she could into gushing about her lovely husband whenever she was asked.

No, Carol was never strong for herself. But Sophia? That was another matter. She would always protect her daughter no matter how much it terrified her. She had gladly taken beatings for her over the years, hoping that she could hide it all - hide the viciousness and the bruises and the fear - could protect her daughter from the darkness of Carol's life and set her free to have her own.

So, when she saw Sophia's horrified, scared face as Ed smacked her around for yet another triviality, heard her cry out for her mother before sinking frozen and quiet into a corner, Carol knew that something was going to change. She had hoped that Sophia would never find out, but she had, and Carol was damned if she was going to let Sophia suffer the way she had. She didn't ever want to see the same weakness, the same fear and resignation in her daughter's eyes as she saw in her own.

That was when she finally decided to leave. It wasn't an especially bad beating, nor especially unjust compared to the others. It was a day like any other except that Sophia was there and Carol would do anything to protect her.

That was the reason she was sitting in a nondescript waiting room, her daughter clutched to her side. The walls were a bland color, an enigmatic mix of tan and green, and the seats were plush. The coffee tables were smooth, polished wood with nondescript fake flowers set on top. The air wasn't natural; she could feel the odd, artificial quality as she breathed it in. Most people would have found it uncomfortable.

Carol was not most people. The silence that most would have found uncomfortable was a blessed respite from Ed's yelling. The stilted professionalism of the waiting room was space away from Ed's fists. The awkwardly close seating was merely a way for her to be able to hold her daughter close. And the words, bold and black, on the glass door before them - "Ezekiel King, Attorney" - were a complicated mix of frightening, reassuring, and emboldening.

The door opened smoothly, the glass barely rattling in its frame, and someone stepped out. He looked friendly, face split in a wide smile. "Mrs. Peletier?" Carol nodded and stood, ushering Sophia to her feet as well. "C'mon in." He stepped back, holding open the door for her.

For a second, she hesitated. Every fiber of her being felt that she should obey, should yield and just go on through, but that same part of her didn't want anyone at her back, didn't trust someone being in her blind spot. She almost complied, almost succumbed to the years-long sense that she should listen, but then she remembered why she was there in the first place, why she was walking down that hallway at all. She wasn't going to be weak anymore; she would teach her daughter to be strong.

So, she stepped over to the door and gripped it in her hands, curling her fingers into the wood to steel herself and smiled. "Oh, please… after you." The man shrugged, still smiling as he nodded and led her into the room.

The room looked like an extension of the waiting room. The same shining wood made up a desk in the center of the room, windows sending light shining into the room from behind it. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with books that were half-falling off the shelves. Two chairs sat near the desk, a third right beside the door with a bag beside it. Piles of paper towered on the desk, partly blocking out the sunlight.

"Thank you, Jerry." A voice - smooth and educated - sounded from somewhere in the vicinity of the desk, and Carol couldn't help jumping slightly at the unexpected noise. She whirled, finally noticing that the papers on the desk blocked more than just the sunlight; they also obscured the person sitting at the desk. "Please take your seat, Mrs. Peletier, and we shall begin at your convenience."

The sound of shuffling paper filled the room as the man at the desk transferred some of the paper to the floor, revealing the owner of the voice at last. He made a striking sight, like something not from this century; his clothing was old-fashioned, a red feather caught in white dreadlocks. He was smiling as he stood, leaning across his desk with his hand held out. "Ezekiel King."

Carol smiled thinly - feeling far too out-of-place and uncomfortable for real emotion - and shook the proffered hand. "Carol." Sophia shifted around, and Carol smiled down at her. "This is my daughter, Sophia."

The lawyer's already-wide smile widened further. "It's a pleasure to meet you, young lady. My own son, Henry, is in the other room, should…" Here, his eyes flitted to Carol, suggesting it as much to her as to Sophia. "...you care for some entertainment. He's a good boy, all I could ask for in a son."

Carol could feel Sophia shift in her arms, could see the imploring gaze directed at her even before she looked down and actually saw it in her daughter's green eyes. "Go on, then." She ignored the slight twist of worry in her gut at the thought of her daughter running off, playing with a stranger, but she released her grip on the girl's shoulder and nodded.

Ezekiel nodded as well, then gestured at Jerry who was still sitting in the corner. "Show her the way, Jerry." He glanced at Carol, then looked back. "Stay there, if you will. Make sure things are well. I've got this."

Carol couldn't deny the slight relief she felt at knowing that someone would be watching over them, would ensure that her Sophia would be safe. She sank into her seat, a little bit of her earlier optimism reentering her. She could do this. For Sophia, she could do this.

Ezekiel looked over at her, his seemingly-omnipresent smile still on his face. "Well, then… shall we begin?"

For Sophia, thought Carol as she nodded. For Sophia.